The Stranger I Married

“We cannot all have hearts of steel,” she grumbled.



“Gold.” His smile faded as he expressed his concern. “The dowager is not a woman to take lightly. She is determined, although I do not know why. You are a duke’s daughter and a fine pairing for any peer. If you make a true match with Grayson, I cannot see the objection.”



“No one makes her happy, Rhys.”



“Well, she will find her path damned uncomfortable if she thinks to tangle with our pater, and he will intercede, Bella.”



Isabel sighed. As if their pasts and personal issues were not dilemma enough, she and Grayson had external combatants as well. “I shall speak to her. For all the good it will do.”



“Good.”



“There you are,” Gray purred behind her, the moment before his hands cupped her waist. “Trenton. Do you not have a watch to hunt?”



Rhys sketched a slight bow. “I believe I do.” His parting glance at Isabel spoke volumes, and she gave a slight nod before he turned about and moved down the gallery.



“Why do I feel as if the mood for play is lost?” Gray asked when they were alone.



“It is not.”



“Then why are you so tense, Pel?”



“You could correct that.” She turned in his arms.



“If I knew the cause,” he murmured. “I’m certain I could.”



“I wish to be alone with you.”



Nodding, he led her toward their wing, but when she heard voices approaching, Isabel pulled him into the nearest room. “Lock the door.”



With the drapes closed, the room they entered was so dark she could not see, which was just what she wanted at the moment. She heard the lock click into place.



“Gerard.” Turning, she surged into him, her hands slipping beneath his jacket to embrace his lean waist.



Caught off guard, Gray stumbled backward until he hit the door. “Christ, Isabel.”



She lifted to her tiptoes and buried her face in his neck. How she loved the feel of him!



“What is it?” he asked gruffly, his arms coming around her.



“Is this all we have? This craving?”



“What the devil are you talking about?”



She licked along his throat, consumed by a fever for him in her blood. She had never surrendered to him. Not completely. Perhaps it was that last bit of resistance which goaded his pursuit. If so, she needed to know that now. Before it was too late.



Cupping his ass, Isabel rubbed her body against his.



He shuddered. “Pel. Do not provoke me thusly here. Let’s go to our room.”



“You seemed game for the chase earlier.” She kneaded along his spine through the thin satin back of his waistcoat. All the while she pressed into him, her breasts to his chest, her belly to the rigid length of his cock.



The darkness was freedom. All there was in her world at the moment was the large body she desired, the smell of Gray, the deliciously raspy voice, warmth. Heat. Need.



“You were playful then. I anticipated a bit of fondling, stolen kisses.” He gasped as she stroked him through his trousers, but he did not stop her. “Now you are…you are…Bloody hell, I’ve no notion what you are, but it requires our bed, my cock, and uninterrupted hours.”



“What if I cannot wait?” she breathed, squeezing the thick head of his shaft through her glove and his broadcloth.



“You would have me take you here?” His voice was thick with lust. “What if someone should come? We’ve no idea what room we are in.”



Her fingers worked at the placket of his trousers. “Someplace unused, since there is no fire in the grate.” She hummed her pleasure as he sprang free, hard and straining. “I am offering you the opportunity to take me in a public arena, as you said you were quite capable of doing.”



He caught her wrist, but undeterred, her other hand reached around and squeezed his ass. Enflamed, he growled before twisting swiftly so that she was against the door. “As you wish.”



As his hands delved beneath her skirts, he bit hard at her shoulder.



Her head drifted to the side as he parted her and stroked her clitoris. She widened her stance shamelessly and reveled in his expertise. He had once spent hours fucking her with his fingers and his tongue, determined to know every nuance of her body’s ability to orgasm.



“What has possessed you? What did Trenton say to you?” His long fingers slipped inside her, stroking skillfully. Wetness spread across her flesh at the point where his bared cock thrust impatiently against her. “Jesus, Pel. You are soaked.”



“And you are dripping semen down my leg.” She shivered with the first stirrings of release, every part of her aching for more than just this. “Take me. Please. I want you.”



As she had hoped, it was the last words that moved him. He cupped the back of her thighs and lifted her effortlessly. Isabel reached between them and guided him to her, moaning in near delirium as he lowered her onto his jutting cock.



Gray leaned forward, his chest moving against hers in harsh, uneven breaths. She held him, breathed him in, absorbed the feel of his weight against her, his thickness inside her.



Did you not learn to be practical with Pelham?



“Is this all that we have?”



“Isabel.” He nuzzled against her throat, his open mouth hot and wet against her. A hard shudder coursed through his frame when she tightened around him. “I pray this is all we have, for I cannot survive any more than this.”



Pressing her cheek to his, she moaned softly as he moved. Withdrawing. Sliding back inside. Slowly. Savoring.



“More.” It was not a request she made.



He paused, tensing.



“Damn you,” Gray muttered finally, his fingers digging painfully into her flesh. “Can I ever pump deep enough? Can I ever fuck you enough? Sate you enough? Will I ever be enough?”



Bending his knees, he increased his pace, thrusting high and hard and deep, until she felt him in her throat. Startled by his sudden vehemence, she could say nothing.



“Is this all we have, you ask? Yes!” He rammed her into the door, bruising her spine, pinning her there. Making her cry out softly with pleasure and pain, unmoving except for the heated length throbbing inside her. She writhed and scratched at him, on the edge. She clung to his shoulders, his hips, trying to move, but there was no way. “You and I and no one else, Isabel. If it drives me into the grave, I will find a way to be what you need.”



In her heart, warmth unfurled. Gray was not like Pelham. He was open and honest. His passion was real and truly heartfelt.



Perhaps she was not practical when it came to marriage, but with her husband she had no need to be. “I want to be what you need, as well. Desperately.” She made the admission without fear.



“You are.” He pressed his sweat-dampened face against hers. “For God’s sake, you are everything.”



“Gerard.” Her fingers tangled in his silky hair. “Please.”



He moved, building a steady rhythm and maintaining it. She allowed him the lead, becoming limp except for the inner muscles she tightened around his pumping cock. He grunted at every tight squeeze. She moaned with every deep plunge. There was no race to the finish, only a giving, one to the other, using their knowledge to ensure the greatest pleasure.



When he set his mouth to her ear and panted, “Christ! I cannot…Pel! I cannot stop! I’m going to come…”, she gasped, “Yes! Yes…”



His hands at her thighs spread her wide, he thrust to the hilt and groaned, a tortured sound so loud she heard him over the roaring of blood in her ears. His orgasm was violent, his powerful body shaking, his cock jerking, his chest heaving as he gave her what she’d once spurned. Filled with him, overflowing with the essence of him, she held tight and came around him in a breathless, burning release.



“Isabel. My God, Isabel.” He crushed her to him. “I’m sorry. Let me make you happy. Let me try.”



“Gerard…” She pressed kisses across his face. “This is enough.”



Chapter 16



As he left Bella behind, Rhys was so lost in thought he failed to look ahead. Turning the corner, he ran into a hastily moving body and had to reach out swiftly to prevent her fall.



“Lady Hammond! My apologies.”



“Lord Trenton,” she replied, straightening her skirts and touching a hand to her golden curls, which showed a faint trace of gray. When she looked up at him with a bright smile, he was startled, considering how he had very nearly run her over. “I apologize, as well. I was not minding my path in my haste to ensure my guests’ enjoyment.”



“Everyone is having a fine time of it.”



“I am so relieved! I must thank you for the attention you paid to Hammond’s niece this evening. The poor dear is so beleaguered by destitutes. I am certain discourse with a non-marital-minded man was refreshing. She was in as fine a mood as I have ever seen, which pleases me greatly. I appreciate your forbearance in speaking with her for such a length of time.”



He held back a grunt. The image of him as a benign figure who had no sincere interest in Abby irked him in a way he could not understand. He longed to retort and refute, to say she was unique and desirable for more than her purse. But why he wished to defend her so fiercely eluded him. Perhaps it was guilt.



“No thanks are necessary,” he assured her with practiced smoothness.



“Are you enjoying the scavenger hunt?”



“I was, yes. Now though, I will bow out and leave the rest of the guests to the glory.”



“Is anything amiss?” she asked, the concerned hostess.



“Not at all. I am simply very good at such pursuits, and it would not be very sporting of me to win tonight, when I have every intention of winning tomorrow.” He winked.



She laughed. “Very well. Good eventide to you, my lord. We shall see you over breakfast.”



They parted ways and Rhys took the shortest route to his rooms. Once he’d undressed, he dismissed his valet for the evening and settled before the fire with a decanter and glass. Shortly, he was in his cups and somewhat eased of his regret over Abby, at least until the door opened.



“Go away,” he muttered, making no effort to cover his legs, which were bared by the part in his robe.



“Rhys?”



Ah, his angel.



“Go away, Abby. I am not in any condition to receive you.”



“You look perfectly conditioned to me,” she said softly, coming over and circling the chair until she stood between him and the fire.



Divested of her underskirts for ease in undressing, he could see the outline of her lithe legs through her gown. He grew hard, a condition he was unable to hide, dressed as he was.



She cleared her throat, her gaze riveted.



Feeling the urge to shock her, Rhys yanked aside one edge of his robe and bared his upthrust cock. “Now that you have seen what you came here to see, you can go.”



Abby sat in the chair across from him, her back ramrod straight, her gaze curious and capped with a studious frown. She was so damned adorable, he had to look away.



“I did not come here to simply gaze at what I want and not have it,” she said primly. “A sillier concept I’ve never heard of.”



“I have something sillier for you,” he retorted gruffly, shifting his half empty glass to create prisms from the firelight. “You working so industriously toward an unwanted pregnancy.”



“Is that the impetus behind this mood you are having?”



“My ‘mood’ is called ‘guilt,’ Abigail, and since I’ve not felt that particular emotion before, I am not comfortable with it.”



She was silent for long moments. Long enough for him to drain his drink and refill it. “You regret what happened between us?”



He did not look at her. “Yes.”



A lie, for he could never regret the time he had spent with her, but it was best if she did not know that.



“I see,” she said softly. Then she stood and came toward him. She paused beside his chair. “I am sorry you regret it, Lord Trenton. Know that I never will.”



It was the wavering undercurrent in her voice that made him move lightning quick to capture her wrist. When he forced himself to look at her, he saw tears, which cut him so deeply he dropped the glass in his other hand, the thud of its impact drowned by the roaring of blood in his ears. The feel of her, just that slight, fragile piece of her, set off memories of touching other parts. Impossibly, he began to sweat.



She tried to pull herself free, but he held fast, rising to his feet, gripping the back of her neck roughly. “See how I hurt you? How I can do nothing but hurt you?”



“It was heaven,” she cried, swiping furiously at her tears. “The things you did…the way you felt…the way I felt!”



Abby struggled, but he maintained his grip. She glared at him through her weeping, her cheeks flushed, her lips red and parted. “I see my mother was correct. Affairs are physical release, nothing more. I suppose sex must feel this way for everyone. With anyone! Why else would so many indulge?”



“Cease!” he barked, his heart racing as he saw the path of her logic.



Her voice rose. “Why else would the experience mean so little to you? Stupid of me to think you and I are unique. I am so easily replaceable for similar intimacy. I conclude that any other man could provide a like orgasmic event for me!”



“Damn you. No other man.”



“To hell with you, my lord!” she cried, glorious with indignant fury. “I am no great beauty, but I am certain there are men who could make love to me without regret.”



“Let me assure you,” he bit out, “any other man who touches you will regret it immensely.”



“Oh.” As she blinked up at him, her free hand fluttered to her throat. “Oh my. Are you being possessive?”



“I am never possessive.”



“You threaten any man who might touch me. What do you call that?” She shivered. “Never mind. I love it, whatever you call it.”