Chapter Twenty-Six
It had taken him nearly an hour, but he’d found out what he wanted. He’d finally solved the mystery of what had happened to his carriage that fateful night.
He hoped Kitty was all right—he hadn’t expected to be gone that long. But she and the coach were surrounded by other coaches, and at this point, after the loss of Dancey Miller-James, many people had added a footmen or two to their retinue. He doubted there would be any risk, other than to her temper.
But even that was negated, since when he quietly opened the door, it was to find his new wife sound asleep.
He slid in beside her, tapped gently on the roof and took her in his arms as they swayed into motion. She stirred enough to snuggle into him, then sank back into sleep.
Oddly enough, he was quite happy with that. Yes, he had news, and yes he was looking forward to telling her what he had learned. But for now, the sensation of travelling back home to Mowbray House with his new wife in his arms…well it surpassed anything he had experienced up to now. He’d never expected anything like this. Never thought about having, or wanting, anything like this. His life had simply never included the matter of his own family, or producing an heir, or any of the other more customary goals. No, he had single-mindedly pursued his business interests, with the aim of enlarging them in a sensible and solid fashion, and spent his leisure time on the occasional trip into London, and more often a visit to one of the many dungeons catering to his particular sensual tastes.
He’d found he had to choose those carefully, since he disliked brutality or cruelty of any kind. He liked dominating a woman, but not abusing her. He liked controlling her body, and her mind, but not destroying her ability to think or act, or punishing her if she did so.
His preferences were not for the cane or the whip; nor did he want to see welts or blood.
To him, those were best left to whoever would accept such treatment, and to those who had no compunction about delivering it.
In Kitty, the woman sleeping so soundly in his arms, he had found the best of everything. And she’d erupted into his life so recently, it seemed all but impossible…but there it was. And there she was.
He knew she would please him in bed, and his pleasure had been multiplied by her responses to his actions. And yet she was not of a submissive character at all. On the contrary, she would stand up for herself if necessary, without a second thought. She had spent so much of her life tucked away in the country, which might have explained her intelligence. All those years reading…she had acquired a brain that worked rapidly and efficiently. Debating and discussing matters with her would always be a delight.
She was, he decided, the only woman he could possibly have considered marrying. If he’d asked her yesterday evening, he knew she most likely would have said either a definitive no, or that it was too soon. Both of which would have been valid answers, and both of which he knew he could not have tolerated.
So now he had one last task ahead. To bind this woman to him so tightly she would never leave. To make sure she understood that she was his, and their marriage was real.
That, he decided, was what really mattered. Everything else was mere detail.
They rolled smoothly to a halt in front of Mowbray House, and Max gave Kitty a gentle shake. “Time to wake up, my dear. We’re home.”
She stirred, yawned, smiled sleepily at him and eased herself upright. “I am sorry. I fell asleep waiting for you.”
“I know. It’s all right.” He stepped down from the coach and turned back, putting his hands at her waist and swinging her bodily out and onto the ground. “Let’s go in. It’s late and I’m tired.”
She nodded. “Me too.”
Before she could say another word, he lifted her once more, this time in his arms, and carried her up the steps and into Mowbray House. Deery, who was waiting inside, looked alarmed. “Sir? Miss Ridlington?”
Max grinned. “You may welcome your new mistress, Deery. This is no longer Miss Ridlington. I’m proud to say she’s now Mrs. Seton-Mowbray.”
Deery, to give him credit, did not faint. He did look stunned for all of three seconds, and then a smile began to curve his lips, soon becoming a full-blown expression of joy. “Sir. Madam. I’m—I’ve no idea of what to say, except for congratulations. And best wishes. Oh my goodness. The staff will be thrilled indeed.” He looked at Kitty, sitting comfortably against Max’s chest, with her legs over his arms. “Welcome, Mrs. Max. Welcome home.”
“Thank you, Deery. I’m thrilled to be here.” She turned in his arms. “You can put me down, you know.”
“Yes, but I don’t want to.” He glanced at her. “I’m quite happy with the way things are.”
“Oh.” She thought about that. “Very well, then. Carry on.”
“I intend to.” He smirked. “Deery, if you would lock up? We will be retiring immediately and will not need anything else tonight. My wife’s maid can deal with all the arrangements in the morning.”
“Very good, sir.” Deery bowed.
Turning, Max eagerly headed for the stairs. Then he paused. “Oh, Deery? Would you make sure my sister joins us for breakfast, and send an invitation around to Sir Peregrine’s first thing. I’d like him here too if it’s not too early.”
“As you wish, sir.” Deery bowed again.
“Good night.”
“And to you, sir. Madam.”
Max was almost at the top of the stairs and barely heard his butler’s last words. He was too intent on his wife—and the way she was looking at him.
*~~*~~*
Welcome home.
Deery’s words rang in Kitty’s ears as her husband carried her upstairs and down the corridor to his rooms. She looked at him, his face so strong and determined, and yet—when he glanced down at her—an expression of something like hunger flickered in his eyes.
She felt desire sweep over her, followed by heat and a desperate need to touch him. To run her hands over his skin, to smell his fragrance, to learn every inch of him over and over again.
She licked her lips. “Hurry.”
He nearly tripped over the threshold to his bedchamber, and she laughed as he stumbled them both to the bed and dropped her on it with a grunt. “I am.”
She slid off the quilt and kicked her slippers off, reaching for the ties at her knees to release her stockings. He tore off his jacket and waistcoat, cursing when his cravat refused to unravel immediately.
Her stockings joined her slippers on the floor, next to Max’s boots. He threw his cravat on the bed and his shirt fell away in seconds.
Kitty purred at the sight, went to him and turned her back, lifting the heavy curls of hair away from her neck. She jumped at the sensation of his teeth grazing her skin as his fingers went to work on her lacings. In moments her dress was a pile of shot silk on the carpet, and his hands were on her body, pulling away the delicate silk undergarments, leaving her naked and breathless.
“My necklace,” she said, keeping her back to him.
“Just a second…”
She heard noises and realized he’d shed his breeches. Then the clasp of her necklace loosened and she reached up to catch it in her hands.
“Wait.”
She froze at the command, shivering a little as she recognized the sound. “All right.”
“Leave the necklace where it is for a minute. Put your hands behind you.”
Doing as she was bid, Kitty jumped as she felt his cravat—linking her wrists as he firmly tied them in place. “Max?”
“Sssh.” He tested the bonds and apparently found them to his satisfaction. “Now. Turn around.”
She did, eagerly, although frustrated that she could not touch him. She pulled a little at the fabric binding her wrists.
“Not too tight?” he asked.
She shook her head. “No, but…”
He put a finger on her lips. “You promised to obey me, wife. Obey.”
Her head lowered in silent assent, and she waited for his command. It came quickly.
“Onto the bed, please. Head on the pillow, lying on your back.” He helped her mount the tall bed, and made sure her hands were as comfortable as possible, given her position. “Good. Good girl.” He leaned over and kissed her, a long deep mingling of tongues and lips and breaths.
Kitty’s heart swelled at the embrace, and she took a deep breath as he finally took off her necklace and held it up to the light.
“This could have been made for you. My grandmother would be proud.”
A sting of unshed tears made her blink, and then she jumped as the diamonds touched her nipple. He was dragging the gems over her skin, each one a cool, unyielding, sharp-edged bite of arousal. The moan crept from her throat and she could not hold it back. But it seemed to please him as he played with her nipples and her jewels with equal pleasure.
Each caress sent shivers of sensation darting low in her body and eventually she could no longer keep still. The moisture was dampening her thighs and she ached with the emptiness between them.
“You are needy, my sweet.”
She glared at him.
“Perhaps my fingers would ease your need.” He stroked downward, over her belly, to find the soft curls at the junction of her legs, letting the necklace slide away. “But that would leave your breasts untended. That will never do.”
His head lowered, his mouth opened, and he sucked, strongly, eliciting a cry of pleasure from her throat. At the same moment, he slid a finger inside her, moving it around, teasing honeyed liquid from her inner darkness.
It was sensual torture, and her hips responded by lifting from the bed toward him, an unmistakeable plea he was apparently going to ignore. At least for now.
He withdrew his hand and gave her swollen sex a tiny, sharp slap.
She gasped. “Ow…” Then subsided, breathing hard, as the area he’d punished heated and grew incredibly sensitive.
He suckled her again, hard, nibbling at the hard nipple as he delivered one more slap to her pussy. “Mmm.” His murmur resounded throughout her body, stoking the fire that was already burning, hot flames licking down her limbs as she moved restlessly against the onslaught of his desire.
He climbed up onto the quilt, pushing her legs wide. She parted them with alacrity, hoping that now he would put his own hard flesh inside her, rather than his fingers.
He paused, looking at her, sprawled helpless before him. “My wife.”
The words surprised her, since they were more of a whispered thought than a command.
She nodded. “Yes. I’m your wife.”
He reached for her hips as he knelt above her, pulling her forward, lifting her and finally thrusting his cock deep within her slick folds. “My wife.”
She struggled, her bound wrists an annoyance that was becoming a severe cause of distress. She wanted to touch him, to join with him on equal terms. This night of all nights should be filled with mutual pleasure.
He smiled as he saw her fighting to free herself. “Wait.”
She eased, wondering what would come next. But instead of some new punishment, he leaned forward and lifted her into a sitting position, tucking her legs around him as he moved his to a more comfortable position. Kitty found herself sitting on her husband’s lap, his cock inside her, and their chests all but touching. His arms went around her and untied the cravat.
“Oh thank God,” she whispered, slinging her arms around his neck. “Better.”
Catching on to this new position, she tightened her legs around him, working their bodies into an embrace that locked them together.
Thus joined, she stared into his eyes, knowing the fire would explode before too long. “I must tell you something.” She breathed the words into the inches of space between their lips. “I love you, husband.”
His arms tightened around her and he leaned his forehead against hers. “I love you too.”
Then he moved, as did she, and it was passion, whispered sighs of limbs moving faster and faster to a crescendo, and finally cries as both Max and Kitty let themselves go and clung to each other as the raging inferno claimed them.
They collapsed in a heap, caring not which leg ended where or whose hand was trapped beneath whose shoulder.
“Ouch.” Max groaned and shifted, reaching beneath him. “These are pretty, but I think they just stabbed my arse.” He extracted the necklace cautiously from the tangled linens.
“They weren’t designed to be treated so cavalierly, you know,” observed Kitty as she settled herself between the covers.
“Everything is designed to be treated cavalierly, if you know the right way to do it,” answered Max, with a tired grin. “Even wives.”
“Especially wives.” She cuddled close, knowing he’d turn her and pull her into his arms.
They were quiet for a while, regaining their breath, and simply enjoying the calm after the storm.
“I meant what I said, Max.” She pulled his arm more tightly around her. “I can’t put my finger on the moment it happened, but today…there it was.”
“Yes,” he murmured. “That discovery hit me over the head with a brick today as well. We are well matched, love. Fate put us together, perhaps knowing we were already half-enamored of each other.”
“Possibly.” She sighed. “Shall you like having a wife?”
He chuckled. “I think so, yes. And I will try and make sure you like having a husband.”
She smiled into the pillow. “Just keep doing what you did tonight, and I will like it very much indeed.”