Morgan rubbed her aching toes as she sat on the hillside overlooking the manor. Edward was by the front of house, running a hand through his hair as he talked to the estate’s butler, Truman. All the while his city butler, Boswell, glared on from the side of the house, clearly still upset that Truman existed.
The scene between the three would have proved comical had she not been too tired to laugh. Only her endearing husband would have forgotten that he need not have two rival butlers. She felt herself sigh.
The fire was out, thank God. The staff and townspeople who had rushed to help were now assessing the damage insofar as what could be salvaged, and what could not. A few men were already wheeling out debris. It had been a gallant effort on everyone’s part. They had lost one room, rather than an entire house.
Edward, for all his efforts, had been unsuccessful in stopping her from helping. She had lifted, doused and dug right alongside the others. Morgan glanced down at her dress. So much for the pristine white silk that had been expertly knife pleated and embroidered with sequins, lace, flowers and ribbons.
Her bigger concern was for Edward. She had heard the word sabotage from some of the staff. Her mind had flown to the only person who she could imagine would do such a thing. Roderick!
She heard her name and looked up. “Lady Sinclair…I mean, Lady Wellington.” Perry corrected himself.
The angelic-faced footman had surely proven his worth to his new master. Edward would not be able to overlook how quickly the young man had leapt into action.
“The earl wishes me to take you to the hunting cabin, where you will be staying for the evening while the manor is cleaned and made ready with repairs.”
Morgan glanced up at the setting sun. It was getting late; not much more could be done at night.
She allowed Perry to take her hand and help her to her feet. “Will Lord Wellington not be joining us?”
“He said to tell you he had a few more lose ends to tie up and that he would be joining you later.”
“Oh, I see.” Morgan held onto Perry’s arm as he walked her down the sloped hillside, where her husband had all but demanded she stay put an hour ago.
“Food is being brought from the village and the cabin is being made right for you,” Perry explained.
“Where will you, Boswell, and Bertrice stay?”
“There is a servant quarters there as well. Bertrice, Boswell, Truman and myself, will reside there until the estate is occupant ready.” Perry smiled. “I wonder how long it will take Boswell to try to kill Truman.”
“Perry!” Morgan chuckled. “What an awful thing to say,” she mockingly scolded, despite him having a valid point.
They reached the carriage and he helped her inside.
Closing the door, Morgan looked back toward the house. Edward was still deep in conversation. He seemed to sense her eyes on him, for he looked right at her and smiled. Even though his expression was tight, and obviously not filled with mirth, she felt his smile as if it were a ray of morning sunlight. She drank it in.
The hunting cabin, located on the east side of the property, was a far cry from a lodge. It was as big as a modest townhouse in the city. Perry, Boswell, and Bertrice got right to work unpacking, while the local village storekeeper’s boy laid out their evening meal and stored the rest of their supplies. Morgan thanked the lad and went to set the table.
Bertrice noticed and hurried over. “Let me do that. You must be exhausted.”
“I am fine. I need to keep busy.”
“Well, at least let me help you get out of this dress and into more comfortable attire, my lady.”
Morgan followed Bertice to the master bedroom and allowed her to undo the buttons on the back of the dress. The weight of it coming off was such a relief. Every muscle in her body seemed to exhale.
“Perry is preparing a bath in the room next door,” Bertrice explained with a bit of a blush. “It is a special night, after all.”
The day’s previous tension came flooding back with a vengeance. Dear heavenly Lord, tonight was her wedding night. She had not thought about that aspect since this morning. Morgan took a calming breath.
“All will be fine, my dear.” Bertrice effectively read her mind. “I will have a tray of food brought up while you bathe.”
Morgan tried to coerce her lips into what she hoped was a convincing smile. She really must take notes on how her new husband did it so well. Calm under pressure, and whatnot.
Bertrice assured her that she was just on the far side of the house if Morgan needed anything and then quit the room. Morgan finished undressing, down to her shift, and made her way to the room next door. She rapped on it to make sure Perry was done, and gone.
When no reply came, she entered and smiled at the sight of the steaming tub. This would do nicely. Her aching limbs were already beginning to relax in anticipation of the soothing water.
She padded over to the tub’s edge, the steam from which was already filling the room. Morgan pulled her shift over her head and tossed it to the ground before stepping into the hot bath and slipping into the water. Heaven.
She was just starting to recline when the unmistakable scraping sound of a chair being dragged across hardwoods reverberated right behind her. She froze in place. Then screamed.
Edward had barely closed the front door when the blood-curdling scream filled the cabin. He flew up the stairs, taking them two at a time, his heart pounding and fear lancing his mind like a cleanly driven arrow. Morgan!
Once at the top of the stairs, his thinking caught up to his pulse.
Only one scream, and then dead silence. That notion drained the life from his very soul.
He ran down the hall, nearly colliding with a door when it flew open. A half-falling, half-flailing, Perry came scrambling out backwards. Edward was on him in a blink, murder his only focusing thought.
He grabbed the man by the throat, hauled him to his feet and lifted him off the ground. The footman thrashed about in his attempt to find solid ground beneath his feet. Clutching at Edward’s hands he gasped, his face turning purple.
“Where is my wife?” Edward ground out.
“Edward, stop!”
Edward’s head snapped around at the sound of the familiar voice. Morgan was standing in the doorway Perry had just alit from, dripping wet and naked at her name day except for a towel. His grip on Perry’s throat tightened.
His bride rushed forward. Edward brought his free arm up so fast and so straight that she had to awkwardly immobilize to avoid running into his unyielding flat palm. She stopped dead in her tracks, unbridled fear in her eyes.
Fear of him, herself, or for her beloved footman’s wellbeing? Edward was not sure what distressed her, so he squeezed Perry’s neck tighter just to be sure. The footman’s struggle’s halted and he went limp against the wall. Edward let him drop like a sack of wheat.
“Edward, no!” Morgan cried out.
Edward was having a hard time compartmentalizing his warring emotions. He was livid. His new wife looked about ready to faint. His footman already had. And no one was talking.
He fought for understanding for all that he was seeing. If Perry had attacked her, why did she care what happened to him? Edward saw red! Unless…
“Is he?” She swayed where she stood.
“He is breathing.” Edward’s eyes raked over. “You better start explaining quickly, or he will not be.”
“It is not what it looks like, Edward,” she implored him.
“You have to the count of ten to tell me what it should look like,” he warned. “One.”
“I was just beginning my bath.”
“Two…”
“I thought I was alone.”
“Three.”
“Please stop doing that, I cannot—”
“Four, five…” He was moving toward her.
“Perry was in the room, and I did not realize.”
Edward stopped midstride and turned back to his intended victim, who lay on the plush carpet. “Edward, no!” She placed a pleading hand on his arm. “He had fallen asleep. I think I woke him when I got in the water.”
Edward turned back to her slowly. “Six, seven, eight, nine.”
He looked down to where her hand rested on his sleeve. “Did he touch you?”
She began to shake where she stood, tears welling up in her gold eyes. “No. He was just as shocked as I was. I screamed on instinct and he panicked and ran for the door. In his haste to depart, he tripped and fell out into the hallway.”
She begged understanding with her eyes. “He did nothing more than make a mistake by falling asleep in the wrong room. It has been a long day for everyone.”
Edward could take no more. Before she could finish the sentence he was pulling her to him. Between the tears and the logical explanation, for which there was one, it all made since.
He felt like a complete arse. He had overreacted, which was always his first reaction. That would have to change! If he was going to have a shot in hell at this husband role, he had better get a tighter rein on his emotions. Quickly!
She wrapped her arms around him and sobbed into his shirt. “I am so sorry. I should not have screamed. I should have looked about the room more closely. I should have…”
“Shh, stop.” He wrapped his arms around her tightly and held her close. “It is not your fault. I assumed the worst.”
He took a deep breath and pushed her gently away. “I will see to Perry now. Please do not worry, I only made him black out; he will be fine.”
About that time, Perry started to stir behind them. “Go back in,” Edward urged. “I will join you once I get him to his quarters and make sure that he has everything he needs. Starting with an apology.”
Morgan felt the urge to protest, to insist she be allowed to help with Perry, but she bit back that impulse. Now was not the time for continued support of the footman that her husband had nearly just killed, under suspicions of manhandling his wife.
No, something told her that silence was best. Her husband was weathering his own emotional storm right now and did not need any more push back. She did as he suggested and turned, closing the door behind her.
She heard Edward lifting Perry, and the footman’s rush of muffled groveling as their voices faded down the hall. She wanted to cry. So many emotions were coursing through her in the day’s aftermath, but the strongest one was still fear. Fear that the movement from the chair, that had started this downward spiral, had been Roderick. Coming to make good on his threats.
Morgan shuddered. She wanted to crawl into bed and hide, but the tub was still steaming, and she still needed a bath. Drawing on courage alone, Morgan set the towel aside and stepped back into the warm water.
She washed quickly and climbed out just as she heard the adjoining room’s door open. Instincts stilled her mid-step. A light rap fell on her door.
“Do you need anything?” Edward asked, his deep voice soft.
How quickly that voice had changed, she noted.
“I am good.” Morgan donned a dressing robe. “I am just finishing up. I will be right out after I comb out my hair.”
“Don’t.”
“I am sorry, do not what?” Anxiety danced on her every nerve.
There was a moment of silence from behind the door, a space where time and thought were held captive. She saw the massive door give slightly, as if being pressed upon, and heard an exhaled breath. Morgan could tell her husband must be leaning against it.
A sudden realization seized her and she moved quickly across the room, picking up the brush from the vanity. She reached the door and turned the handle slowly. As she had expected, he stood just on the other side.
Taking in the longing in his eyes, she held out the brush. “Will you?”
Edward stood speechless as his new bride handed the silver brush to him. She knew what he had not been able to put into words. She understood he needed to comfort her, as much as he needed the comfort himself.
Morgan gracefully glided past him to the dressing table and sat down. He followed and pulled up a chair behind her, lowered himself onto it, and looked at her reflection in the mirror. Her skin was pink from the heat of the bath; her eyes were soft when she looked back at him, kind and absent of judgment.
He had been so worried that he might have scarred her for life, but the strength radiating off her now was proving that he had once again misjudged her. She was made of much stronger stuff than that.
Edward reached up and traced the back of his hand down her cheek. She bent her head into the touch and softly kissed his knuckles. God, she was beautiful… He gathered her thick mane of auburn hair in his hand and took his time brushing it out, savoring the way she closed her eyes.
Edward set the brush on the table when he was done and pushed the glossy waves to the side, exposing the thin column of her neck. He kissed right behind her ear and she sighed. Encouraged, he trailed the kiss down to her collarbone, coaxing the robe away enough to reach the sensitive skin beneath. When he glanced back at their reflection in the mirror, her eyes were aglow with a look he knew well. She wanted him as much as he wanted her.
He slowly slid his hand down and between the layers of her robe, skimming a finger over one taut nipple. She shuddered when he took the whole breast firmly in his hand. Edward bent forward, watching her watch him.
She turned her head to the side and he claimed her mouth, kissing her deeply as he brought his free hand around to cup her other breast, enjoying the weight of both in his palms. She gasped when he undid the garment completely and slid his hands between her thighs, parting them slowly. She closed her eyes.
“Look,” he commanded.
Morgan did as instructed and watched, eyelids hooded with passion, as he moved his fingers between her glossy curls. Her head lay back on his shoulder and her body arched when he reached the sensitive nub and began his skilled torment on the silky flesh. Already slick with desire, she began to circle her hips as he divided the folds and slipped one finger inside. Slowly, he inserted a second. Her breathing caught as she clutched at his other arm.
Her body’s natural response, the way her voice grew raspy when she said “please,” and the intoxicating view in the mirror were nearly his undoing. His cock was as hard as stone and tortured beyond anything he had ever experienced. But, Edward reminded himself, he would take his time. Even if he did nothing more than bring her to climax.
He was leading, but he was also following. Taking cues from her body’s reaction as to how much she was willing to do this night. He would not rush her. Even if it killed him.
Her body began to shake. Just as she was about to completely lose herself to him she looked up at their reflection. Staring right into his eyes, his new bride said the best three words Edward had ever heard.
“Take me, now.”
Faster than he had ever moved in his life, Edward scooped her up and moved her to the bed. He was out of his shirt in seconds and removing his trousers when Morgan inhaled sharply. He looked up, suddenly remembering she had never seen a naked man.
Her eyes were huge, but they were not fixed on the part of his body he expected might bring shock. Instead they were anchored to his chest. He stilled. How could he have forgotten? The branded reminder that his barbaric past was real.
“I am sorry. I should have prepared you for the ghastly sight.” Edward grabbed his shirt and begin putting it back on.
“Stop!”
He slowly turned his head to her, expecting to see disgust. He didn’t. In place of revulsion was something akin to understanding. A strange sympathy that did not make him feel ashamed.
“How could anyone find a scar ghastly?” She stared, unbelieving. “On second thought. Do not answer that. I care not for the opinions of others before me that might have placed such a stupid notion in your head.”
Edward stood, utterly bewildered by her words. “You do not find them unsightly? I could leave my shirt on.”
“Don’t you dare threaten me on our wedding night, Edward Kingston!” She propped herself up on one elbow, hooked a come-hither finger and smirked. “I want to see all of you. Up close and personal.”
Edward had never been able to fathom the sensations that led up to a swoon, but he was pretty sure Morgan Kingston had him close. He tossed the shirt to the ground and prowled toward her. What on earth had he done to have gotten so lucky?
Climbing onto the bed, he took possession of her mouth as he parted her thighs with his legs. Testing the entrance of her womanhood, he nudged inside a fraction. Sweet pain coiled around his tightened balls as he fought for the control required to not bury himself deep inside her in one demanding thrust.
Edward took a deep breath. She was like a fire burning for his needed warmth. She was his! They were about to be bonded for life. He kissed her again.
Her arms came up and hooked his shoulders encouragingly. Edward looked down and into her eyes. Holding her gaze as he slowly pressed into her, pausing only when he reached the last thin barrier. She closed her eyes.
“Open your eyes,” he coaxed.
She complied and he thrust deep, stilling immediately. “Are you all right?”
She nodded and he resumed, as gently as possible. After a few strokes her body began to relax. Clinging to him, her hips began to join in his movement. Matching his set pace, she kept her eyes glued to his. Completely trusting in his lead.
He grew bolder, his body driving him, demanding he fulfill its primal need…to lose himself in her. Unable to be harnessed any longer, he heard a tortured groan escape his lungs just as she called out his name. All self-control shattered. He thrust into her with a passion unlike any he had known before.
She was his wife now; he need not take precautions. He felt her body tighten around his cock. He drove harder as she began to shake. She lifted her hips and circled his back with her legs, granting him greater access. As he buried himself deeper inside her velvety heat, Morgan moved her arms down his back and grabbed his ass with both hands, nails digging forcefully into the muscle.
The bold sensation of her needy grip on his straining tight cheeks sent him spiraling over the edge. The force of his orgasm pumping deep inside her was blinding. He gave one final thrust, feeling the warmth of his seed fill her womb as her body continued to spasm and milk him like a fist.
His! She was his.
Morgan could not draw enough air into her lungs. It felt as if she had been on the edge of a high cliff and someone had pushed her off. She landed just fine, but the adrenaline from the fall was still coursing through her body.
She was not sure what to compare it to. She knew only that she had never, in her wildest dreams, thought anything could feel this satisfying. Morgan looked up into Edward’s eyes as he rolled over beside her, pulling her into his arms.
He smiled before drawing her in tight to his chest and resting his chin on the top of her head. He smelled divine. The rapid drumming of his pulse synced with hers. She felt safe and happy and, for the first time in her life, where she was supposed to be.
Morgan felt his chest vibrate low and realized he had spoken. She looked up. “Hmm?”
He grinned, and she wanted him all over again. “Are you hungry?” He chuckled.
She looked to the tray on the side dresser, right where Bertrice said it would be. Morgan gasp. When had her maid delivered their meal? She wondered how much Bertrice knew of what had happened earlier.
Edward must have read her mind, for he intercepted her thoughts precisely. “I brought it up once I saw to Perry,” he said.
“Oh.”
Still smiling, he rolled to the side of the bed and stood. Morgan was gifted with a backside viewing of what looked like a Greek God’s sculpted rear. She shook her head. That perfect male body had just been on top of her, inside her, and had done things to her that she had never thought possible.
She could feel the blush race up her throat when he glanced back. Oh, the rogue! He knew what effect he is having, too. And by that smile, he is enjoying every moment of it.
She tried to compose herself, but the attempt was for not when he sauntered back with a plate and a still very much erect manhood. She blinked. Did they not deflate afterwards?
“Are you always like that?” She blatantly gawked. They were well past bashfulness.
He followed the path of her gaze downward and laughed. “No, not unless I am thinking of you.”
“Well.” She felt her lips curving up. “Does that mean you might be in the mood for a second go?”
He set his plate down by the bed. “Absolutely!”