“I don’t believe I’ve ever felt this incredible,” he replied, planting a small kiss on each of her breasts as he repaired her bodice. “Just think, once we’re married we can do this every day.”
Once they were married…
Varya bent her head to kiss him so he wouldn’t see the tears filling her eyes. She would have a lifetime to prove how much she loved him. A lifetime to make him love her.
“I do.”
From the minute the words left his lips, Miles wondered if he had truly lost his mind.
Standing at the front of St. George’s, in the sight of his peers, friends, family, and the Almighty, Miles Edward Thomas Christian pledged his troth to the woman who had held him at gunpoint, accused him of murder, and turned out to be a princess. He had to be crazy, because he was happier than he had been in years. One thing was certain—life with Varya would never be boring.
Now, standing in the receiving line at his parents’ home, Miles’s mind wasn’t on the wedding at all. The only thought he had been capable of retaining—other than that of being insane—was of his wedding night.
Ah yes, his bride might have pulled off one deception, but his body ignored her betrayal and reacted to her in a way that defied all reason. When it came to Varya, Miles feared he was ruled by an organ other than his brain—and not the one Carny would suggest either. Miles had been ruled by
that
part of his anatomy before, and knew that the only thing
more
dangerous to a man’s reasoning was his heart.
“I’d like to know where your mind is.”
He gazed down at the woman beside him. His wife. Clad in an elegant gown of silver silk with her thick black hair pinned high on the crown of her head, she looked every inch the princess, every inch the blushing bride. But it was the inches hidden from view that tantalized him the most.
“You’d probably slap me if I told you,” he murmured close to her ear, his lips brushing the velvety flesh.
Varya shivered. “That would depend on where you wanted to be slapped,” she replied, her voice low and husky.
Miles laughed, and all the guests turned at the happy sound. Some were surprised to see the marquess so pleased. Of course, it stood to reason that only the deepest affection—and the dowry of a princess—could have induced him to marry again after losing the wife he had so
obviously
adored. Some
guests thought it unseemly for him to so publicly display his affection for his bride. Other guests didn’t care—they had come only for the champagne.
“What did Lord Dennyson say to you?” Varya asked when there was a break in the receiving line.
“He congratulated me on my ‘prize’ and wished me luck on my wedding night—not that he thought I’d need it,” Miles replied wryly.
“Has your investigator uncovered anything?”
“Not yet.” Guilt made him avoid her hopeful gaze. No, his investigator hadn’t discovered where Dennyson had spent the days surrounding Bella’s death, but he had completed his investigation into Varya. He would send the information package by special messenger later that day.
“What a beautiful wedding and what a lovely bride you make, Your Highness!”
Varya rolled her eyes at her husband before turning to Lady Pennington. The older woman’s smile was as false as her compliment. Miles bit the inside of his mouth to keep from chuckling.
“Thank you, Lady Pennington,” Varya replied graciously. “Lady Jersey arrived just a few moments ago and is waiting for you near the punch bowl. I expect the two of you have much to discuss.”
Lady Pennington had the grace to blush. No doubt she couldn’t wait to discuss the wedding
and
the bride with Sally Jersey.
“Indeed. May I wish you both great happiness.” Lady Pennington walked away, her back as stiff as her well wishes had been. Lord Pennington skulked silently
behind her. Ever since Miles had beat him senseless, Lord P been very careful not to approach Varya again.
“I hink m’ mowth ith beeing.”
“I beg your pardon?” Varya stared at him quizzically.
Miles moved his tongue away from the torn flesh of his inner cheek.
“I said, I think my mouth is bleeding. I bit it so hard trying not to laugh at you and Lady Pennington that I think I broke the skin.”
She shook her head in disbelief and fixed him with a smile. “Let’s get you some champagne, then. It seems we’ve finally come to the end of the guests.”
They drank and ate and danced continuously. After their first waltz, Miles didn’t see much of his new bride as she danced next with Czar Alexander, and then Prinny.
Miles took advantage of his wife’s popularity and sought out his former sister-in-law. Caroline was only too happy to dance and chat with him afterward.
“Are you in good health, Caroline?” he asked, handing her a glass of champagne. “You look a little peaked.”
She brushed away his concern with a wave of her slender hand. He frowned at her offhandedness. “I am well, thank you, Miles.” She gazed up at him with large sad eyes. “Please forgive me, but I was just remembering your last wedding.”
“Of course.” How stupid of him not to think that she would be upset seeing him marry another woman. She had been thinking of her sister while Miles had been completely focused on his new life.
“I still miss her, Miles,” she confessed with a small sob.
“So do I, pet,” he replied, offering her his handkerchief. He missed Charlotte’s friendship and her kindness. He missed their son.
“No you don’t! You had that French girl to console you.”
Her sudden, sharp bitterness threw him. Of course it must have wounded Charlotte’s family to see him run to his mistress so soon after his wife’s death.
“Yes, I did, but she left me for another man soon after.”
A strange expression crossed her delicate features. It was full of such foreboding that Miles almost shivered.
“You seem to have a habit of losing women, Miles,” her voice was so low he had to strain to hear it. “Take care that you don’t lose Varya as well.”
He turned his back on the crowd, forcing her into a corner. “Are you threatening my wife?”
Caroline’s laughter eased the tension that had suddenly knotted the muscles in his neck and shoulders.
“Of course not!” Her merriment faded to a friendly smile. “I just hope you don’t get scared and run this time, that’s all.”
He raised a brow. “Since when have you ever known me to ‘get scared and run’?”
Caroline’s smile faded. “You’ve done it with every woman you’ve met since my sister died.”
Miles felt her words as sharply as though she had stepped on his toes with the heel of her shoe. He
had
been running ever since Charlotte’s death.
He cast a quick glance toward Varya before returning his attention to his sister-in-law. “I think you have to agree that I’m not running anymore.”
“Miles, I—”
Whatever else she might have said was cut off as a commotion stirred near the entryway.
Standing in the door were a man and a woman. Their regal bearing and dress spoke volumes about their consequence, and one look at the older man told Miles who he was. There was no denying the black of his hair or the blue of his eyes.
His gaze shot over to Varya. She couldn’t have known, could she? The guilty way she lowered her gaze from his confirmed his suspicions.
She had known. She had been
expecting
them and never told him they were coming. Even after he had asked her about them she hadn’t said a word. Was that why she had agreed to marry him?
“Varvara!” the man at the door barked in heavily accented Russian as if he were commanding an army and not his child.
Miles watched as his deceiving bride stepped forward, her shoulders somewhat slumped, her face white save for two red splotches on her cheeks. He could almost see her tremble as she kissed her father on the cheek. He strained to hear her greeting, wondering what she would say.
“Papa, Mama, you’re just in time to join the dancing.” It wasn’t much of a hello, but what was she expected to say after five years?
Varya tried to step away from her father, but he held
her tightly by the upper arms. She cringed, waiting for his censure, and when it didn’t come, she glanced at him in surprise.
There were tears in Vladimir Ulyanov’s eyes. Horrified, Varya turned to her mother, but Ana faired no better than her husband.
This was not what Varya had expected. She had expected ranting, raving, threats even. She hadn’t expected that her father, of all people, would actually seem happy to see her.
The realization that he was pleased to see her settled in her stomach like a lead ball. She suddenly had the feeling that she had been running for nothing these past five years. Surely she couldn’t have been that blind?
“We have much to discuss,” her father told her in Russian. His eyes were still watery, but he kept the tears at bay. He seemed content just to study her face.
Out of the corner of her eye, Varya watched Miles approach. The expression on his face was all politeness, but his feline eyes glittered with anger. She should have told him about the letter, but she hadn’t been expecting her parents to arrive so soon! She thought she’d at least have a few days to prepare before they arrived. She had just wanted to make certain she and Miles were married before she told him—so he couldn’t change his mind.
Oh, she had made such a mess of things.
“We’ll talk once all the guests have left, Papa,” she replied in Russian, then said in English, “but may I introduce to you my husband, the Marquess of Wynter?”
“Husband?” her father exclaimed, releasing his grip on her as his shocked gaze fell on Miles.
Tentatively, Varya glanced up at her husband. His expression said that he wanted to talk to her as well, but he wouldn’t accept “later” as an option.
“Yes,” he said with a charming grin as he offered Vladimir his hand. “How wonderful that you arrived in time to help us celebrate.”
“But this is impossible!” Varya’s father blustered.
“Oh, I assure you, Your Highness,” Miles replied, still smiling as he wrapped a possessive arm around Varya’s shoulders, “it’s entirely possible.”
“I
cannot wait to discover what you’ve got planned for me next.”
Miles kept his fists clenched at his sides—probably to keep from strangling her, Varya thought. He had kept his anger in check since the arrival of her parents, but now that he had her alone in his study she could feel his restraint slipping.
“There are no more surprises, I promise.”
“Well,” he retorted stiffly, “that will no doubt make the
rest
of our lives together relatively boring, won’t it?”
“I am sorry,” she mumbled, rubbing her aching forehead with the heel of her hand. She leaned against the back of the sofa. God, she was so tired.
“Why couldn’t you have told me so that I might
have prepared for their arrival? God, what a fool I must have looked! If you won’t trust me, you cannot expect to be trusted in return.” He smiled bitterly. “Never fear, though; I’ve seen many marriages survive on less.”
“I cannot imagine either of us being happy with such an arrangement.” She spoke with all the dignity she could muster. It wasn’t much.
He crossed the room swiftly to stop directly in front of her, his eyes narrowing in distaste.
“I daresay
that
was the least of your concerns when you accepted my proposal.”
“I never meant to hurt you,” she whispered, and she meant it. She had been thinking only of saving herself.
Miles caught her jaw in his hand. She flinched as his fingers bit into her flesh.
“Hurt me? You sought to
manipulate
me,” he seethed. “I am not your piano, Varya. You cannot press a key and have me do what you want. I am a
man
.”
She tried to twist away but he cupped both hands around her head, not hurting but holding her captive.
“From the first moment we met you have sought to control me. I have tried and tried to earn your trust and yet you willfully deceive me every chance you get.”
“It wasn’t intentional!” she cried. “I was afraid. I never thought—”
“No, it’s clear that you never thought.” He released her and stepped away, as though he couldn’t bear to be near her.
From where she sat, Varya could see he was shak
ing. She wondered if he had heard even half of what she had said.
“What more do you want from me?” His wide shoulders slumped. “You have my name, my life, my pride. I have nothing left to give.”
Your heart
, Varya screamed silently. Dear Lord, she wanted his heart, and she wanted to give him hers.
“I would’ve married you anyway, if you had only told me,” he was saying. “I wouldn’t let anyone hurt you. Don’t you know that by now?”
The anguish in his eyes was more than she could bear.
“I know that. That’s why I married you.”
Obviously she had said the wrong thing. His expression hardened and he paled.
“Yes, to protect you from the parents who thus far have done nothing more evil than weep over how much they have missed you. I saw this
horrid
father of yours weep in happiness at having found you! The poor man had actually believed you were dead! Don’t you think you have paid him back for all his many sins?”
“You know nothing about my father!” she shouted. Oh, but he had struck a nerve. Vladimir Ulyanov had looked so old, so tired. Varya wondered if maybe she had been wrong in believing her father would punish her…
Instead of arguing with her, Miles shrugged. She hated this cool indifference.
“Varya, you must tell me why you were so afraid of their arrival that you broke your vow to never marry. We have to start somewhere. Tell me about Ivan.”
Varya’s breath froze in her lungs. How did he know about Ivan?
Alexi
. He was the only one who could have told him. Inhaling deeply, she gathered her courage. Yes, it was time to tell him the truth. If they were going to have any future at all, she had to tell him everything.
“Five years ago,” she began, noting that he seemed surprised to hear her speak, “I was betrothed to a prince. Ivan. My father had arranged the match. Something about Ivan frightened me, but I was even more fearful of disappointing my father, and so I agreed to the marriage.” She drew a steadying breath.
“During our engagement party at Ivan’s palace, my father sent me to find Ivan so that Papa might toast our marriage. I…I found Ivan upstairs in his chamber. He was raping a servant girl.” She didn’t want to remember this. “I believe he killed her.”
The color drained from Miles’s face. “He attacked me when he discovered me there. I hit him over the head and I ran. I left that night for Italy, then went to France.” She smiled sadly. “I’ve been running ever since.”
“No wonder you were terrified.” Obviously disturbed by her words, he turned his back to her.
“Miles, please.” She stood and moved toward him, slowly closing the gap between them physically as well as emotionally. Gingerly she placed her hand upon his sleeve.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you. I was frightened. I was certain my father would force me to go back to St. Petersburg and marry Ivan.” She swallowed. “He would have killed me.”
“How do you know someone hasn’t already killed him?”
Varya laughed—a brittle sound. “If anyone could get away with murder it is Ivan.”
A strange expression flickered across his features, only to be replaced with a cool mask.
“You told me marriage robbed a woman of her independence.”
She nodded. “That’s what I believe, yes.”
He turned to face her, shrugging off her hand. “So I’m the lesser of two evils?”
Varya felt a guilty flush creep up her cheeks. Hadn’t she used those exact words to describe him?
She reached up to touch his cheek. “There is nothing evil about you, but I am more afraid of you than of my father and Ivan combined. They cannot touch me now, but you…you have the power to wound me with a glance.”
He caught her hand in his own, pressing her cold fingers to the unyielding warmth of his lips. His eyes seemed unnaturally bright as he regarded her.
“Yet you put yourself in my hands, under my control.”
She nodded. Miles would never hurt her; she knew that.
“I think I must trust you.” She could scarcely hear her own voice, but the softening of Miles’s expression told her that he had no trouble distinguishing her words.
He pulled her closer, so that their bodies were touching. She could feel the heat of him through the thin silk of her gown, feel the hardness of his body
against the softness of her own. Her nipples tightened in response as tingling warmth blossomed in her loins.
“You drive me mad,” he whispered hoarsely, his fingers toying with the hard, sensitive tips that pushed against the fabric of her bodice. “I think I must be mad, wanting you the way I do.”
Varya gasped as sharp stabs of pleasure raced from her aching breasts to that equally hungry place between her thighs. His touch shattered her equilibrium and she leaned back against the mahogany desk, bracing herself against this sensual onslaught.
He advanced on her like a cat on a mouse, slowly, purposefully. His face was set, his expression intense. His eyes pinned her where she stood, mesmerizing her with the stark longing in their golden-green depths.
With the toe of his boot he nudged her feet as far apart as her narrow skirts would allow and stepped between them. His hips were solid and hard in the narrow cradle of her thighs. The thin silk of her gown and chemise were pathetic barriers against the solid ridge of his arousal.
As his deft fingers sought to release her straining breasts from her bodice, Miles pressed his lower body deeply into hers. Varya moaned at the shock of sexual pleasure that pierced her. She rocked her hips against him, seeking more of the incredible pleasure, the undeniable rhythm that could bring her to climax.
She didn’t care if he trusted her, didn’t care how he felt about her at that moment. The one thought in her mind was the need that set her body throbbing. Her body craved the release that only he could give her,
craved the physical love that neither had any intention of denying the other.
Groaning like a man who knew he was lost, Miles ground himself into her, shoving her buttocks against the desk, arching her back until her breasts thrust against him.
Varya felt a violent tug on the neckline of her gown, felt the bite of seed pearls high against her skin as her breasts were freed from the bodice of her wedding gown. Pushed up by the stretched fabric, they were incredibly full and taut. Her nipples were tight and red, aching for the sweet pinch of his fingers, the hot, wet pressure of his tongue.
Delirious with desire, Varya thrust against him, reveling in the hard flesh rubbing her through his trousers. He was fully erect and ready for her.
“God, how I want to be inside you,” he growled, meeting the rhythm of her hips. His fingers massaged her breasts, pushing them together. Very gently he touched the tip of his tongue to each puckered crest before taking both nipples into his mouth.
It was more than Varya could bear. The sensation of his mouth and tongue on both breasts at once made her head spin.
He released her breasts and raised his head. His gaze locked with hers as his hands lifted her skirts. His fingers slid up her thighs to the wetness between, sending her over the edge in just a few strokes.
Without waiting for Varya to recover, Miles laid her on the polished surface of the desk, sweeping aside anything that might prevent him from reaching his goal—feeling her flesh wrapped around him.
Lord, but she owned him. All it had taken for him to forget his anger, his disappointment, was her telling him she trusted him. He hadn’t quite realized until then how much he wanted her trust.
Almost frantically, he grabbed her skirts, shoving them up over her shapely legs until they bunched beneath her hips, leaving her bare before him. Her fragrance teased his nostrils; the damp curls at the juncture of her thighs parted to reveal the tantalizing pink flesh he longed to claim.
He slid his thumb along the damp cleft, delighting in the moist warmth that greeted him and the soft, panting gasps Varya issued as he gently stroked the petallike folds.
With one hand he teased her while the other struggled with the front of his trousers. A tiny bit of moisture met his fingers as he released himself. He closed his eyes and groaned with the effort of controlling himself. He was ready to explode.
He opened his eyes to find Varya staring at him from behind heavy lids. Her cheeks were flushed and her lips parted with every labored breath. Her nipples were still dark and hard. He wanted to taste them again, but the need to bury himself inside her was even stronger.
“Touch your breasts for me,” he whispered, removing his hand from between her thighs.
She didn’t hesitate to do as he asked. The sight of her long white hands against the fullness of her breasts brought a tortured groan to his lips. Reaching down, he hooked a hand beneath each of her knees, lifting her legs to rest her calves against each of his shoulders.
“I want you inside me,” she murmured huskily, cupping her breasts. “Now, Miles. Please.”
He could not deny her or himself any longer. The fingers of one hand sought the throbbing little nub within her again, while the other guided his shaft into her hot wetness. The position of her legs made her passage incredibly tight, and Miles ground his teeth as he slid deep into her. He would not last long.
The sound that escaped Varya’s throat sounded like the low purr of a lioness. Miles’s erection throbbed at it. Closing his eyes, he buried himself to the hilt within her.
Slowly, he withdrew and filled her, wanting to prolong the pleasure. With every languid thrust, his thumb mimicked the movement along her cleft. Varya panted with the rhythm, arching her hips against his hips and hand.
“Touch your nipples,” he urged hoarsely, knowing that if she did he would ride her right off the top of the desk.
Miles watched in excruciating pleasure as she caught the rosy buds between her thumbs and forefingers, rolling them, lifting them. Varya met his gaze with dark, smoky eyes. The tension in her face told him she was close to climax again.
Muffling a curse, Miles shoved himself into her, gripping her hip with one hand to keep her tightly against him. With every fevered thrust, he jerked the pad of his thumb against her, heard her keening cries, until she convulsed around him.
Her orgasm sent him over the edge. He tore his hands away from her, curling his fingers around her
ankles. Splaying her legs wide, he pulled her toward him as his hips pumped wildly into her. As he threw his head back, his mouth fell open and a guttural cry tore from his throat.
His release was intense, threatening to buckle his knees with its sheer force. He pitched forward, dropping Varya’s legs and falling over her, one hand braced on either side of the desk.
Still panting, he stared at her. She stared back, neither one of them prepared to break the silence.
Lowering his head, Miles brushed his lips across hers, deepening the kiss until their mouths were fused, their tongues lazily stroking each other in languid fulfillment.
“That was incredible,” Varya whispered when they finally broke apart.
“Yes,” Miles agreed, reluctant to remove himself from her.
“Um, Miles?”
“Yes, love?” He nuzzled her hairline.
“I can’t feel my legs.”
Laughing at her rueful tone, Miles straightened and withdrew from her. He quickly tucked himself back inside and fastened his trousers before helping her into a sitting position. He watched with some disappointment as she tugged her now sagging neckline back into its original position.
As she smoothed her skirts, Miles sought to straighten her hair. Somehow a quill had gotten tangled in her coiffure and tiny grains of sand from an overturned canister had found their way into the silky strands.
“We can’t have you looking like you were taken on a desk when your parents come in,” Miles remarked with a humor he hadn’t felt in some time. He wasn’t in the least bit concerned about the meeting he had promised the prince and princess. Varya was his wife and nothing could change that.