MY FISTS ARE STILL BRUISED, and each knuckle is busted from having beaten that idiot to within an inch of his life last night. I’d simply gone mad—much like during the secret cellar fights I used to have with the guys back in Havering. The fights where I would lose control and my fists would guide the destructive path until someone pulled me off my bloody opponent.
To let loose and have the rage flood through me—rage I’d been pretty schooled at containing—was invigorating. Had it been under any other circumstance, I would have felt drugged from the pleasure of the release.
However, it was not under any other circumstance.
No, it was to protect what belonged to me.
Edith.
At first, I was pissed when I heard the noises coming from her room. I wanted to make my whore—whatever the hell her name was—scream out my name in ecstasy just to rile Edith up.
But the moment I heard her scream my name in terror followed by the brutal banging against the wall, I saw red.
Bloody fucking red.
The prick was smashing my wife’s head into the wall like it was his God-given right. So help me, had I not seen her crying and looking so vulnerable, I would have killed him with my fists. But she needed me. She was broken like never before. I wanted to protect her.
Now?
My eyes skim over her appearance from across the table. Her normal prissy attitude has been replaced by that of a sadder one. One that concludes she’s been made aware of her fragility being that she’s a woman. Her bottom lip is swollen, and just seeing it causes rage to flare through me.
Now? I still want to protect her.
“You’re quiet this morning,” I say gruffly.
She’s peering out the window, watching the scenery flash by. We boarded the train a short while ago and settled into our private sleeping quarters of the car. I paid an outlandish amount to reserve this car for us. I also reserved the one beside us for Jasper and Elisabeth. Upon Edith’s wishes, we boarded after them to avoid a confrontation between her and her sister.
“Not much to say,” she whispers with her eyes trained on the window.
Ever since last night, after I’d helped her clean up and tucked her into bed, she’s behaved differently. Not at all like herself. It rattles me that she’s lost inside of her head and I’m not allowed in there with her.
“Want to discuss what happened?”
She shrugs her shoulders but still won’t meet my eyes. I’m seconds from physically shaking the words out of her when she finally huffs out her reply.
“Discuss the fact that my gigantic wedding ring given to me by my ‘husband’ became tangled in my lover’s hair? And that, when I teased him about it, he lost his mind?” she snips out. Her bottom lip quivers, but her eyes remain affixed.
“Look at me.” My demand seems harsh even to my own ears.
She flinches but shakes her head. “I’m rather happy looking out the window.”
I slide out of my seat and launch myself into the one beside her. Her breath hitches in what seems like fear, but the stubborn woman holds her ground and won’t look at me.
“Look at me,” I growl as I inch my face closer to hers. Her scent invades me, and I inhale the sweet perfume she’s taken to wearing lately.
“No, Alexander.”
When I slide a palm across her belly, she yelps.
Not in fear.
Pain.
“Are you hurt here?” I demand as I gently rub my thumb over her stomach.
This time, she does look at me. The tears are back, and they spill out. “Yes.”
I clench my teeth together and attempt to keep myself from exploding. My fists itch to smash something to smithereens. How dare that monster hurt my wife?
“Show me.” I know I sound like an arse, but I need to see.
“But you’ll see me naked and . . .” she trails off when I slide the top of her dress over her shoulder.
I noticed earlier that she’d chosen one of her simpler frocks and forgone a corset. Now, I know that it was because she was in fucking pain.
“You’re my wife. I’m going to see you naked plenty of times,” I murmur. My lips graze the top of her shoulder, and she gasps. I hadn’t meant to kiss her there but it felt right.
I can tell she wants to argue, but instead, she slumps her shoulders and allows me to unfasten the back of her dress. Once I’ve undone it, I slide the material down her arms and let it fall into her lap.
My eyes land first on her pert, bare breasts. I nearly groan aloud when my cock hardens in response. Her chest rises and falls in rapid succession as she watches me watch her. The urge to taste them is overwhelming and my mouth waters accordingly.
I blink my eyes to clear my mind and meet her brown ones. “Where?”
Her small hand slides out of the sleeves of her dress, and she tenderly strokes a place on her stomach. I lean down to take a closer look, and when my ear grazes her nipple, she gasps. The moment I see the green-and-purple bruise the size of a fist on her stomach, I become livid.
“That fucking pig! I should have killed him!”
She whimpers when I lean forward and place a gentle kiss on her flesh—such a stark comparison to my harsh words.
Being this close to her naked body, inhaling her, I become hungry for her. A hunger that never existed to this degree for this woman begins to furl its way through me. When I kiss the bruise again, her hands thread themselves into my hair.
The action is intimate, and my cock begins to painfully ache to be inside her.
I drag my nose along her skin upwards until I feel the curve of her breast. The tiniest of kitten-like mewls escapes with her ragged exhalations. Not waiting for permission, I flick my tongue out and taste her breast. My tongue drags along the pale flesh until it encounters her pebbled nipple.
“Alexander,” she hisses as if my name is a curse word.
As I tease her nipple with the tip of my tongue, I notice she tastes sweet like the sugar cubes I devoured as a boy. It is just as I always imagined. Needing more, I suck her into my mouth with an urgency I don’t understand.
A knock on our door startles me, and I pop off her nipple.
“Who’s there?” I snap.
I’m frustrated that she’s frantically sliding the dress back into place. With a sigh, I set to helping her fasten the back.
“It’s me—Jasper,” the voice answers on the other side of the door. “And Elisabeth.”
Edith’s eyes widen, and I know she’s terrified at the idea of meeting with her sister.
“Hold on a moment,” I call out and turn to her.
“I can’t talk to her,” she whispers. “She hates me.”
I slide an arm around her and pull her to me carefully. “It will be fine. Trust me.”
She relaxes in my arms as if my words calm her.
“Come in,” I bark.
The click of the doorknob causes Edith to sigh raggedly. I hate that she’s so anxious about meeting with my best friend and his wife.
“Good afternoon, you two lovebirds,” Jasper smirks as he enters.
I nod my head at him. Behind him, he tugs his wife along. Both women avoid the eye contact of the other. Jasper assists Elisabeth into the chair before sliding in next to her. I give Jasper a look that says, Tread lightly, and being that he knows me so well, he simply nods.
“Have you told Alfred of your marriage yet?” he asks.
I groan, because even though my intentions had been to send him a letter of my marriage, I hesitated to go forth with it. The letter sits folded in my breast pocket along with the contract Edith signed and our certificate of marriage.
“No. I shall inform him upon our arrival.”
Jasper’s eyes widen, and his gaze flickers over to Edith. “I’d like to suggest the two of you begin acting like a married couple. Alfred is no fool, Alexander. He will call you out on the authenticity of the marriage. And what about Alcott? You know your idiot brother will be eager to ruin you if at all possible—that’s his life goal.”
I grumble and clench my jaw. Father will question our relationship, no doubt. And Alcott? That bastard will do whatever he can to blow our secret wide open. We have to up our game before our arrival.
“I guess I don’t understand why you would go along with this,” Elisabeth whispers, but she doesn’t raise her eyes to meet Edith’s.
Edith stiffens beside me, and instinctively, I reach over and take her hand in mine.
“I mean, when did you become this person?” Elisabeth asks.
“I forced her into it. Much like you were forced into a marriage with Jasper,” I snap.
Jasper sits up straight and pins me with a glare. “Enough, Alexander. And, honeysuckle, they’ll work it out just like we did.”
Everyone sits in tension-filled silence until finally Jasper speaks again.
“I apologize for being forward, but have the two of you even kissed? Made love? How do you intend to convince your father?”
He’s absolutely correct. We’re going to have a hell of a time convincing my father. Edith and I never even sealed our marriage with a kiss. I’ve looked after her, but we’ve carried on with our lives. Bloody hell! What was I thinking? We should have spent more time with each other rather than with our lovers. Father will figure it out immediately.
“Kiss me, wife,” I murmur to Edith.
She turns to regard me with surprise. I can feel the eyes of Elisabeth and Jasper upon us.
“What?” she asks.
“Kiss me. The act begins now. We’ve had our time of holiday, but now, it’s time to work,” I inform her.
Her eyes widen. The woman who agreed to this has gone and left the goddamned train, because the one before me seems terrified. Hell, I’m fucking terrified but it needs to be done.
I slip a palm over her cheek and thumb it in a gentle manner. “Edith, it will be okay. Just close your eyes and go with it.”
After a moment’s hesitation, she slams her eyes closed and parts her lips. The sun shines in, and a few strands of red sparkle in the sea of her mahogany hair. Her face is free of any color, and she is simply beautiful in her natural skin. I’ve never wanted to kiss her as badly as I do now—now, it’s all I can think about.
Leaning forward, I graze her lips with mine and relish how soft they feel. Her breath smells of the sweet honey she added to her breakfast tea. I want to taste her.
Knowing that her lip is injured, I press my lips more firmly to hers, careful not to hurt her, and kiss her deeply. Then her tongue darts out and meets mine. The moment they connect, I’m flooded with the taste of her. Honey. Cinnamon. Vanilla. And her.
I want more of her.
My hand slides into her hair, and I pull her to me. She lets loose a moan that I devour with my mouth as I kiss her. Suddenly, the metallic taste of blood warns me that I’ve kissed her too hard—that I’ve reopened her cut.
When I wrench away to inspect her, I see the small trickle of blood, and once again, fury floods through me. That bastard did this to her. Then she opens her eyes and explores my face as if she’s trying to uncover why our kiss was so decadent.
I know the answer.
Edith.
Leaning forward, I suck her bottom lip into my mouth and run my tongue over her cut. She whimpers but allows me to clean her with my mouth. There’s something carnal about the way I nurse her wound with my tongue.
A clap startles me, and I jerk my head over and see Jasper grinning crookedly at me.
“That. Keep doing that and you’ll convince him.” He shakes his head. “Hell, you convinced me.”