Since the recitation of their vows that morning, Stone had barely spoken to Theo. Nerves stirred again as he glanced at the brave face she had pasted on upon their arrival at the wedding breakfast her parents were hosting. Despite the tension around her eyes, he assumed most of their guests wouldn’t notice it, or would chalk it up to bridal nerves as she smiled and welcomed all their well-wishers.

Concern filtered past his walls until he asked, “How are you holding up, Lady Stonemere?”

Her cheeks flushed an enticing shade of pink. “I am fine, Lord Stonemere.”

“Good. I believe these are the last of our guests and we may take our seats soon.” He nodded at the group of arrivals just entering her parents’ foyer.

Stone watched his bride beam at each guest and wondered how much longer they would be required to indulge their company. The last group filed past until they stood alone in the dark-paneled entry hall. The impulse to take her there and then, feed off her vitality, soak up her liveliness, and mark her as his lanced through him. He burned to stretch her out across his bed, bind her to it, and make her scream her pleasure. Yet he knew to use her thusly would at best shock her and at worst send her screaming from their breakfast.

Without any indication of his filthy thoughts, he tucked her delicate hand into the crook of his arm and led her into the dining room to their table. What kind of man desired to use his wife in such a coarse manner? Did his need to command her body and soul stem from some cancerous mass that tainted his own soul?

“Regrets so soon, my lord?” She watched him warily as she sipped champagne from a delicately etched crystal flute.

“Regrets? No.” He frowned, confused by her query.

“Then you may wish to consider schooling your features when you look at me, or our guests may be led to believe that you intend to whisk me away and thrash me as opposed to ravish me like a dutiful bridegroom.” She set her glass down and smiled sweetly at him.

Chagrined at being caught out by his bride, he dug deep to smooth his features and shut down his lecherous line of thought. Casting his most devastating smile in her direction, he took her hand and carried it to his lips. Skin against…moleskin. A strong reminder that his wife was a lady, not a prostitute, or even a widow. And yet his desire refused to abate.

His gaze lingered on the swath of skin exposed above her neckline. It pleased him to see the gooseflesh his touch raised. And the soft sigh that escaped her kissable lips teased his inner beast, made him desperate to elicit more such sounds from her.

She softly cleared her throat and lifted one silky eyebrow. His lips curved up at her less-than-subtle reminder. “I suppose I should have gathered from our previous conversations that you have a tendency to say unexpected things in the most inappropriate of places.”

“If by unexpected you mean true, then I suppose you should.” The little minx agreed so effortlessly with his observation that he couldn’t resist smiling.

“Quite so. I see you shall keep me on my toes. Be warned, madam. You will find me equal to your challenge.” A strange sense of contentment chased away his consternation and left little room for his previous inner debate. As long as his wife continued to engage him in conversation, he had no time to worry about things he could not change.

---

Toward the end of the breakfast, Theo excused herself and headed upstairs to gather her things and ensure Mary had everything under control. If she were being honest, she simply needed a respite from all the commotion and congratulations.

Only that morning, Theo had rolled out of bed and swept the drapes open. Sunshine had drenched the world in a sparkling display that rivaled the Crystal Palace. Of course there had been sunshine. And birds. The birds had chirped merrily.

All she had wished for were gray skies and formidable clouds to match her mood. Instead, she had the glorious day every girl dreamed of for their wedding.

Theo found Mary upstairs, flame-red locks still tamed in a neatly braided coil, as if to demonstrate that the orderliness with which she governed was the natural order of things. Everything was well in hand, leaving Theo no excuse to remain above stairs. No more time to brood on her fate of marrying a man—particularly one of questionable reputation with decidedly overbearing tendencies—simply because she’d come part and parcel along with the title he’d inherited. Certainly not the storybook wedding day every young girl dreamed of.

Though, if she were honest with herself, her husband’s lusty ways had led to a rather pleasurable interlude not so long ago. Would that be the way of their marriage? Or would her mother’s rather impersonal version of marital relations be the norm? It was hard to reconcile the two versions. She shook her head as she left her bedchamber.

On her way to rejoin the breakfast, she remembered her favorite shawl was in her reading spot in the library, and dashed inside to grab it. Wrap in hand, she turned to leave when she discovered she was not alone. A man—her husband’s cousin, if she remembered correctly—sat in a wingback chair cradling a scotch, and it was not yet noon!

“Oh, please excuse me. I did not see you there.” She took a step toward the door. What was his name? Hugh. Mister Hugh Denton.

“Don’t run off on my behalf, Countess.”

The sparkling new title felt uncomfortable, especially considering it would have been hers regardless. She thought of Odysseus and his tragic end, and a new sense of guilt washed through her. How was it fair that she should stand there the new Countess of Stonemere, and he lay somewhere at the bottom of the ocean?

Hugh shifted in his chair, a drink in his hand, and drew her attention back to the moment.

She gripped the length of cloth in her hand. “I was just collecting my shawl. Stonemere will be expecting my return any moment.”

“I’m sure he’s counting the moments until you return to his side. I certainly would be, with a bride as lovely as you.” He tipped his glass in salute and returned to brooding, or whatever it was he’d been doing alone.

She paused and considered him for a moment. “Forgive my intrusion, Mr. Denton, but is all well with you?”

He turned to look at her. “How kind of you to inquire.” His lips tilted up in a sham of a smile. “I’m afraid I’ve had some bad news today. I had hoped to hide away a bit so as not to dampen the spirits of your guests.”

She stepped close enough to lay a hand on his shoulder. “I do not pretend to know what weighs upon you, but perhaps joining the party will help dispel the gloom? Come, escort me back to my husband. I am sure they will be cutting the wedding cake soon.”

Hugh set his drink aside and, being a gentleman, escorted her back to the festivities. But sadly, it did not chase away her earlier thoughts of her first fiancé. All through the cake cutting and boxing, she could not help but consider how the wedding might have been different with Odey by her side. But then she realized, as far as husbands went, she found Stonemere far more attractive than his brother. There was a sense of danger about her husband that made her heart race and her blood thrum. As much as she had liked Odey, even missed him, she could not remember him stirring her passions in such a way.

The guests were preparing to leave when she spied her husband speaking to a man across the room. When he stepped away, Stonemere turned to her. “Are you well, my dear?”

Surprise that he had both noticed her discomfiture and inquired after her well-being caused her to hesitate. “I am quite well, Stonemere.”

He stared at her for a long moment, causing her to fret as she imagined explaining her thoughts of his brother on this, their wedding day. Determined to set aside what she could only accept as regret that a man she had come to like and respect was gone too early, she tried to bolster her words with a sense of cheer.

“Very well. I believe it is time for us to depart.” He motioned toward the crowd gathering in the foyer to wish them well.

“So it is.” She nodded with more confidence than she possessed, but ever the intrepid woman, she refused to start off her marriage on less than a strong footing.

---

Theo ran the boar-bristle brush through her hair until the strands shone. Mary had laid out her nightgown—if one could call the diaphanous garment a nightgown—and departed. Grateful to be alone, she strove to gather her inner reserves against what lay ahead.

If her mother were to be believed, Stonemere would creep in under cover of darkness, push up her nightclothes, go about his business, and then leave her. Her job was to lie still and not impede the execution of his duty. If the experience became oversetting, she was to imagine something pleasant, such as gardening or shopping.

All guidance aside, Theo hoped she might find the entire undertaking more enjoyable than her mother had. If her response to his kisses and the way he’d touched her in her parents’ salon were any indication, then she had much to look forward to. A shiver of anticipation chased down her spine, followed by a shock of cool air striking her skin as she discarded her chemise. Determined to be properly prepared to await her husband, she slipped the filmy negligee on and climbed beneath the covers. A single lamp sat by her bedside as she nervously waited for what would come next.

A single sharp rap on the door that connected their chambers was all the warning given before her husband emerged from the darkness of his room. Covered head to toe in black but for the slash of skin exposed by the gap of his robe and the pale gleam of toes poking from his trousers, he all but melded into the shadows of her room.

“Theodora?” He scrutinized the bed, where she attempted to appear calm despite her body’s determination to twitch in an uncontrolled and unladylike manner.

Her pulse pounded against her temples, a dizzying throb of panic urging her to hide. Or did it command some other response? His gaze traced over her flesh with an intensity that felt like a physical caress. Her nipples hardened in a distressing display that had her clutching the covers to her chest. Dear God, what if he should see? When he’d touched her in her parents’ house, she’d been fully clothed. With only a thin layer of silk for coverage, she felt exposed and unsure, even as she clutched the bed covers to her breast.

Silent and brooding, Stone turned from her, and her heart skipped a beat. Had he found her a disappointment? Somehow lacking? Her gaze dropped to her lap as mortification enflamed her cheeks and cracked her resolve.

Then the sound of metal scraping on stone alerted her to his continued presence. He stoked the fire to a roaring flame and added wood to the conflagration. As he worked, the muscles in his back slid under the silk robe and caused her breath to catch in her throat. The sound drew his attention as he set the poker down. Still mute, he turned and faced her, his back to the fire.

With a lift of his hand, he broke the silence at last. “Come here, wife.”

---

Stone waited with bated breath to see his tantalizing wife naked. She hesitated.

“Stonemere, I believe you are supposed to come to me in the bed.” Her confusion was evident by both her words and the little ridge that resided between her brows.

“Drop the covers and come here.” He paused in hopes she would simply respond. Still, she remained rooted. “Do not make me repeat myself.”

Finally, she moved. The covers sank to the bed, taking every ounce of his blood with them. The silken web of a snow-white nightgown skimmed her delectable figure.

The very one he had fantasized about every night for the last seven nights as he waited for this particular night to come. Despite his having tended to his own needs every day, and again that morning, his staff throbbed and his bollocks ached with the intensity of his desire. He shook with the need to shred the sheer material of her gown and bury himself deep in her cunny. As she approached him, he curled his hands into fists to control his basest instincts. This was his wife, not some prostitute or merry widow who might enjoy or be accustomed to being used roughly.

He subdued the beast—for now.

“Turn around.” The words were difficult to form since his mouth had gone dry, as though packed with cotton.

Again, she hesitated, chewed her delectable lower lip in indecision, and then complied. As she revealed the plunging back of the night dress that exposed her creamy white skin through a wisp of lace, he groaned. When she faced him again, he reached out and cupped her jaw. The first brush of his lips on hers sent a jolt of electricity straight to his erection.

A small gasp escaped her.

He pulled back and smiled, pleased with her response. “You feel it as well?”

“I don’t understand precisely what it is, but my heart is racing and my mouth is dry.” Pink dusted her cheekbones as he looked his fill. He could see her pebbled nipples pressed against the fabric.

An image of her hands bound behind her with her breasts forced forward by the tension in her arms teased him. Taunted him. Tortured him.

He reached out and drew her back into his arms and kissed her, again. Another slow press of lips. The same energy arced between them and spurred him on. He traced the seam of her mouth with his tongue. She opened like a flower seeking the sun and allowed him entrance.

He swept over her teeth and then delved farther inside. With a groan, he slanted his head for easier access and used his hands to angle her appropriately. Her hands wandered up from his arms to explore his chest. The delicate, unsure touch sent shivers down his spine as her cool fingers found his heated flesh. He burned with a desire he had not experienced since he’d first discovered The Market.

As he continued to drive his tongue into her mouth, she whimpered and then ventured her own reciprocal exploration. The feel of her tasting him and caressing him made his heart pound. Honey and cinnamon flooded his taste buds as he repressed the urge to drag her to the floor and ravish her.

Once her seeking hands snaked their way around his neck, he found himself pressed against her full length. The softness of her belly cradled his cock as her legs became practically entwined with his. Meshed against him in the most intimate manner possible—short of him being inside her—his wife was quickly succumbing to their mutual passion.

Breaking the lock of their lips, he trailed kisses across her jaw and over to her earlobe. There, he nibbled and sucked her flesh until she writhed in his arms. His thigh became trapped between her legs and tangled in her nightgown.

As he swept his lips down her neck and over her collarbone, her hips shifted restlessly against his leg. He locked one arm around her back and used his free hand to nudge the dainty strap off one shoulder. The material dipped and hung on her thimble-like nipple in defiance of his need to take that sweet bud in his mouth.

He yanked the fabric aside and, with a ferocity he could hardly contain, sucked her flesh. She gasped, but instead of cringing in fear as he had expected, she arched into the heat of his mouth. The little wanton shoved her nipple deeper and moaned. Then, to his shock and great pleasure, she commenced rubbing herself against his leg.

“Yes, that’s it, love. Find your pleasure.” The raspy voice he heard sounded nothing like his. Like most men, his voice typically grew deeper with arousal, but never so rusty sounding. She did this to him. Drove him to the edge of sanity to tease and titillate like the most practiced courtesan. Yet he knew she was a virgin.

“Stone—” The rest of his name was cut off by her cry of satisfaction. She continued to grind against him as he uncovered and suckled her other breast.

The remnants of her climax shuddered through her and into him. He caught her behind the knees and around the shoulders to carry her to bed. Their bed. He let her feet touch the rug but helped her to stand long enough to push the lingerie to the floor.

Glorious in her nudity, she moaned as he rained kisses over her flesh, across her well-loved breasts, and down her stomach. He pressed her backward onto the mattress. “Lie back, pe—sweeting.” I shall not slip into those habits with her. It’s unthinkable.

“Stone?” The intimate form of his name on her lips had his blood at a simmer.

He wanted to thrust into her and impale her on his cock in one driving, claiming motion. Instead, he took a deep breath and knelt between her thighs. Tipping the velvet had always been a favorite for him, and he expected doing so to Theo would be sublime.

“Lie back, Theo. Trust me. Trust me to make this good for you.”

She nodded and reclined upon the mattress.

Stone knelt on the floor and slid her forward until her feet dangled over the edge of the bed, spread her thighs, and then used his fingertips to fully open her up. The pink folds of her pussy glistened with her juices. The tissues were swollen and hot as he leaned in, and then his tongue swiped up one side and along her nub. Her breath caught as he followed suit on the other side. Then he traced around her tight entrance and plunged his tongue inside. Salted caramel burst over his tongue as he tasted her. She moaned when he swirled his tongue around and again when he drew it out and up over her pearl. Her hips bucked against his face, and he had to press them into the mattress or be pushed away from his treat.

While he feasted on her, fucking her with his tongue, she moaned and thrashed. “Oh God, Stone. Don’t stop!”

Never. He drove deeper and then used the flat of his tongue to swipe across her engorged center. She was close, so very close. With hurried movements, he untied his dressing gown and fumbled with his trousers. He centered on her bundle of nerves and sucked it until she exploded for him. As she arched up, he pressed her hips into the softness of the bed and drank in her honey. He rode out the crest until she seemed to calm.

With a restrained curse, he rose up, letting his trousers sink to his ankles. His cock ached to be inside her, but he had to go slow or he would hurt her unnecessarily. “Theo, this is going to hurt, but I shall get you through it, and next time will be pure pleasure. I promise.”

She looked at him, still muddled from her peak. But he couldn’t wait any longer. Standing between her creamy thighs, he notched his prick at her opening and pressed in. The high bed placed her at the perfect height for his entry.

“This is the part I can’t make any better. I’m so sorry.” And then he thrust into her in a swift stabbing motion.

“Ouch!” Her gaze sought his and the worry, pain, and confusion froze him. The emotions that flitted across her countenance had him pulling out.

As he withdrew, she gasped again, but somehow the minx knew what to do to keep him with her. She locked her heels around his arse and refused to let him remove completely. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.” She smiled shyly and nudged him with her heels.

And then he was lost as he plunged into her welcoming heat. Mine, his soul cried as he pumped into her in a pistoning motion that would see him to his end. He controlled the impulse to pound into her long enough to see himself over the abyss. As pleasure rushed up from his bollocks and through each of his muscles, his cock swelled and her cunny clasped tighter. And then all went hazy, lights battering against his closed eyes as he drowned in the pleasure of planting his seed in her womb.

Withdrawing from her heat sent shivers of delayed pleasure rippling through him. On his feet still, he hovered over her for a moment, absorbing the beauty of her satisfied sprawl as she stretched lazily. Heart thundering, a feeling he dared not name surged to the fore. But he’d come prepared for just such an occurrence, and so he ruthlessly crushed any wayward feelings under the power of his control.