B-Sides and Rarities Page 11

  He sat across from me at dinner and his eyes never left mine. Of course, my eyes left his to watch his lips move when he talked or the way his strong hand would grip his wineglass, reminding me of how he’d gripped my hips several times today. My head swam with lust-filled thoughts and by the end of the meal, I was flustered and irritated.

  Tomorrow can’t come soon enough.

  “Sir,” Emmett says to my father as we all gather to leave. “I want to give your daughter something as a token of my promise to marry her tomorrow.”

  My eyes find his twinkling brown ones and I nearly melt on the spot. The gasp from my mother tells me she feels the same. Father nods and I step over to Emmett.

  “Dearest Cora,” he murmurs as he takes my glove and slowly slides it from my hand, baring my warm flesh to him. “While I waited for your return, I went to town and purchased this token of my affection.”

  I blink several times when he produces a stunning gold ring with a yellow, multifaceted diamond on the top. It’s quite possibly the most beautiful piece of jewelry I’ve ever laid my eyes upon.

  “Oh, Emmett,” I breathe. “It’s perfect.”

  He flashes me a grin and slides it upon my marriage finger. It glistens and reflects the lights in the hallway. Lifting my hand to his lips, he kisses the knuckle of the finger that now proudly wears his ring.

  “Until tomorrow, darling.”

  I accept his kiss on my cheek and then follow my parents from the place that as of tomorrow will become home.

  And I shall not sleep a wink until I’m here with him in it.

  “I love you, and your father and I will come to visit in a couple of months,” Mother tells me with a sob.

  Tears well in my eyes, but I blink them away because I’m excited about this new leg of my journey. The wedding was intimate, yet beautiful, and Emmett was the perfect, doting husband. It truly is a fairy tale. But I’m looking forward to the wedding night and our future.

  “I’ll take great care of her,” Emmett vows as my family leaves.

  The moment they’re gone, he snatches my hand and drags me down a series of hallways, my giggles echoing off the walls.

  “You’re eager, Mr. Claxton,” I laugh.

  He squeezes my hand and tosses a wicked grin over his shoulder. “And you pretend that you are not, Mrs. Claxton?”

  I blush at hearing him call me by my married name. “I’m actually thrilled, dear husband.”

  Our banter continues until we’re standing outside of a solid mahogany door. Unease creeps its way through me and I drop my gaze to the wood floors.

  “Emmett, I’m frightened that it will,” I sigh, “hurt.”

  He draws me to him and tangles his fingers in my hair. “I’ll be gentle, sweetheart.”

  His soft words calm me and I lift my eyes to his smoldering dark ones.

  “Well then, let’s do this,” I tell him bravely.

  My eyes flutter closed when he leans in and kisses me. Our kiss is sweet at first, but soon it becomes fervent, and his hands are all over me. The dress I’m wearing feels thick and heavy—I want it gone.

  “Come,” he growls and drags me into his bedroom—our bedroom. A lone gaslight flickers beside the gigantic four-poster bed but aside from that, he doesn’t bother with lighting the space anymore. Instead, he sets to tugging at my dress and fussing with the buttons that run down my spine.

  My dress loosens around my middle and soon falls to the floor around my feet. The air chills my flesh and I shiver in anticipation.

  “My wife,” he chuckles. “I never thought I’d hear those words and enjoy them. My God, you’re such a vision.”

  He steps away from me and begins plucking through the buttons of his dress shirt. When he drops it to the floor, my eyes fall to his masculine, sculpted chest. I’ve never seen something so breathtaking in all my life. Our eyes remain fixed on each other as we remove the rest of our clothing and stand naked before the other.

  I whimper when he prowls toward me, but our romantic encounter is interrupted by a brisk pounding on the door.

  “What is it that cannot wait on the eve of my wedding?” Emmett snarls and snaps his head to the door.

  The angry glint in his eyes only makes me crave him more.

  “Son,” Hugh barks from the other side. “This is important. I’ll only keep you a moment.”

  Emmett casts an apologetic look my way and I smile at him. “I’ll wait for you on the bed. It is fine, Emmett.”

  He waits until I’ve climbed onto the bed and covered my naked body with the blanket before cracking the door open. I’m awarded a fine view of his bare arse that I knew would be every bit as delectable as I had imagined.

  “Yes, Father?”

  Their voices become hushed as they speak and I sit up to listen. Words like “shipyard,” “entire fleet,” and “arson” rise above the rest. Finally, he closes the door with a soft click and rests his forehead against the door. The muscles in his back tighten and his hands draw into fists.

  “Of all the bloody damn luck!” he roars and slams one of his fists into the door.

  All heat evaporates and a chill slithers down my spine.

  “What is it?” I squeak out and tug the blanket over my quivering breasts.

  Like a wild animal catching whiff of its prey, he jerks his head over to me and pins me with a furious glare.

  “Women mustn’t worry themselves about the business affairs of men,” he grumbles and prowls over to me. His body ripples with rage and despite how handsome he is when he’s angry, I can’t help but be afraid. In this vulnerable moment, with me as his wife and naked upon his bed, I fear for the fact that I do not know a thing about this stranger I married.

  “I was only attempting to help,” I whisper.

  He grabs hold of the edge of the blanket and yanks it away from me. “I need to see you,” he hisses, ignoring my explanation.

  The room blurs with my unshed tears and I hold out a shaking hand to him. “Please share your burden with me, Emmett.”

  His hand starts to reach for mine and his gaze softens for a moment before he runs a frustrated hand through his hair. “Cora, darling. I beg of you to give me this one night to distract me from what I must do.”

  I find myself nodding because I want to help him, even if I do not understand what is plaguing him. It is difficult not to shrink away from him as he climbs on the bed but instead, I lift my chin and meet his stare.

  “Kiss me and forget about the rest,” I murmur.

  He relaxes briefly before launching himself on me. The moment his bare skin slides against mine, the heat once again ignites to life from within me. Our mouths are a flurry of tongues, nipping teeth, groans and moans. And it is without warning that he enters me.

  Stars obliterate my sight as I recover from the pain of having lost my virginity. But soon his kisses distract me and I’m writhing in his arms, enjoying every bit that he delivers to me. When an odd sensation steals over my entire being and I cry out in a voice I don’t even recognize, I realize he’s brought me the ultimate pleasure. Soon after, the heat of his own desire surges inside of me, hot and explosive.

  After our breaths even out and the sweat on our chests begins to dry, I run my fingers through his hair and sigh. I’m truly a woman now. No longer a girl. A happily married woman.

  “Tomorrow morning, I leave for the coast.”

  His words confound me and I blink several times to process them. “I shall pack my things tonight so we may have an early start.”

  He lifts from me and shakes his head in disappointment. “No, I am sorry, but I must handle this on my own. You will be needed here to manage the household staff.”

  My body stings as he pulls away and my core throbs from the loss of him there. “Emmett, I simply do not understand. Are we not married?”

  Sauntering off into the washroom, he doesn’t answer me. Peeking down between my legs, I suck in a sharp breath to see some droplets of blood staining the linens. I’m still f
ixated on it when a warm, wet cloth is dropped into my lap.

  “You should clean up and find a dressing gown to sleep in,” he tells me in a bored, gruff tone.

  Tears do win over this time and I sniffle. “Emmett. Please explain to me what is happening.”

  He begins rummaging through his chest of drawers and tossing garments onto the bed. “An arsonist has set fire to every ship in our fleet at one of our most profitable shipyards. Father is needed here to tend to our busy factories here locally and has requested I survey the damages of the crime.”

  I climb off the bed and quickly clean myself before clambering over to him. “I shall go with you—assist you with the affairs.” My hands slip up his bare chest but he grips both wrists, stopping my movement.

  “It is dangerous being that someone purposefully committed this crime against us. Having you there would be distracting, not to mention foolish. You will stay here until I return.” His voice is firm and leaves no room for negotiation.

  I lean forward to kiss him—to beg for him to bring me but he drops my wrists and stalks away to find more garments to toss on the bed.

  “Will you at least tell me when you will come back to me?”

  He shrugs his shoulders—and his unaffected stance has me believing he doesn’t care that he must leave me. “Could be three months. Six, perhaps.”

  This time, the tears rush from me and I slide to my knees on the floor. “I will miss you.”

  A dark chuckle reverberates off the walls and I shiver. “You hardly know me, Cora,” he snorts. “It is doubtful you’ll truly miss me. We shall pick up where we left off when I return. Until then, behave.”

  Behave?

  “Emmett, please…”

  He slams the drawer shut and pins me with a furious glare. “Enough, woman. I am leaving without you and the matter is done. Don’t speak of it again or I’ll be forced to quieten you.”

  And so my marriage begins.

  Chapter Five

  Four Months Later…

  I sit in the armchair in our bedroom and stare out the window. The leaves on the trees are beginning to turn vibrant shades of red and orange, while the sharp wind attempts to steal them from their branches. Typically, September is warm, but this day is chilly.

  Having been alone, aside from the company of Hugh and the servants, I spend a lot of time in this chair overlooking the city. I feel as if I am queen in my own silent world. And at times, I pretend that my husband was killed in some heroic battle leaving me a lonely widower.

  Unfortunately, he didn’t leave me because death had stolen him away. He left me to tend to business. I’m left bitter, wishing he had taken me with him. Instead, he left me to reign over our kingdom all alone.

  A soft knock on the door startles me and I gather the expensive silk on my dress and stand. Eloise, a woman close to my age, is my favorite servant. Oftentimes, she brings the linens into my room to fold so that she can keep me company. I adore her and think of her as a friend.

  Affixing a smile, I jerk open the door and prepare myself to hug the slight woman. When my eyes land on the leering, dark eyes of Hugh, I shudder.

  I cannot stand Emmett’s father.

  At first, he seemed jovial and similar to my own father.

  But, oh, how I couldn’t have been more wrong.

  I see the lust that swims in his eyes whenever I dine with him each night. Some evenings, he sips his wine and stares at me, wordlessly. It’s come to the point that I’m sickened to be anywhere near him. I detest that I feel as though I’m a rabbit that he’s waiting for to step in his trap.

  “Can I help you, sir?” I clip out.

  His eyes drop to my chest, like always, and he grins before dragging his eyes upward. “I received a letter from Emmett.”

  My disgust dissipates as hope surges through me. Perhaps he will finally come home to me. I reach my palm out for him to hand me the letter that he’s tugging from his breast pocket. But instead of giving it to me, he takes my hand with his and winks at me. I begin to pull it from his grasp, but he jerks me forward into his arms.

  “You poor, lonely woman,” he murmurs, his grasp on my hand crushing.

  “Mr. Claxton! You’re hurting me,” I hiss through my clenched teeth.

  When his eyes flicker over to the bed and his arousal presses against me, horror floods through me.

  “I could keep you company, you know. Our little secret.”

  “Get your hands off of me!” I shriek and attempt to wriggle from his grasp.

  The letter falls from his grip as he mauls me with his greedy hands. “Cora, if you want to read the letter then…”

  I spit in his face and he finally releases me.

  “Don’t you dare ever put your hands on me—”

  He slaps me across the face and I’m blinded by the pain and shock of the act. Tears spill over my cheeks and I gape at him.

  “That’ll be enough, Father,” a voice thunders from behind him.

  Emmett!

  The voice is familiar, yet different.

  But I miss it nonetheless.

  Pushing past the monster, I rush right into the arms of my husband.

  His strong arms collect me and he inhales sharply. I catch a whiff of his scent and it’s different. Gone is the scent of lingering tobacco and liquor. Mint and cloves fill my nostrils. Perhaps things are different on the coast.

  Something about him is most definitely different.

  “If I knew this welcome awaited me, I’d have come home much sooner.”

  The hands that are stroking my back suddenly don’t seem familiar at all. Jerking my head up, I find myself staring into the palest brown eyes I have ever seen. A man with similar facial features to that of my husband is the one holding me. Caressing me. Inhaling me.

  “Oh, my,” I squeak out and wriggle from his embrace. “I am so sorry.”

  Hugh storms past me, clipping my shoulder with his as he passes, and I’m once again in the handsome man’s arms.

  “Oliver. My study. Now.”

  Hugh doesn’t wait for a response and stalks away, leaving me shaken up and confused.

  This time, I don’t free myself from his grasp and instead stare into his beautiful eyes. His amber colored hair is slightly longer than Emmett’s and hangs in his face. My fingers twitch to brush it away. His mouth quirks up into a half smile and my skin flushes.

  “I’m sorry. Um, thank you for, uh, stepping in with your er father. He was awfully presumptuous, that I, a married woman, would willingly let him bed me.”

  Oliver’s brows furrow at my words and a frown plays at his lips. I find myself fixated on his mouth.

  “Well bloody hell. Here I’d thought I had found me an angel. Turns out, she’s already spoken for by the Devil.”

  His words have a clipped, menacing throb behind them and I tug away from him to pin him with a firm stare.

  “Emmett is a fine man and my husband. Certainly not the Devil. The Devil is the one that has summoned you to his study,” I snap.

  His lips draw up into a broad smile and I force myself to look away from him.

  “Ma’am,” he chuckles. “I was only saying so in jest. Emmett is my favorite brother. I’m happy to have learned about his marriage to such a spectacular and fierce woman.”

  My guard drops and I lift my eyes to his. “Oh, I see. Well then, I’m Cora. Pleased to meet you.”

  He takes my gloved hand in his and draws it to his lips, his honeyed eyes never leaving mine, and presses a kiss to the back.

  “You smell lovely, Cora.”

  I gape at him and jerk my hand back. “You’re an odd fellow. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to collect myself before supper.”

  With a wicked flash of a grin that reminds me so much of Emmett, he winks and struts down the hallway. I stare at him, noticing his lean, muscled legs stretching the fabric of his trousers and his broad shoulders that stretch his topcoat with every movement.

  Why am I even noticing such things a
bout the brother of my husband?

  My heart aches at the thought of Emmett. I miss him and it kills me to know what was in that letter. He hasn’t written, not once, and I grow more and more upset about the fact that I have not seen him in months each day.

  With a sigh, I close the bedroom door and collapse on the bed staring up at the ceiling. I do pray he comes home soon.

  When I enter the dining room a little while later, both Hugh and Oliver stand upon my arrival. Even though I hate the man of this house, I can’t help but feel a pang of sympathy for him. A few years ago, he lost his wife to illness. Emmett, nor Hugh, never spoke of Oliver, nor did they display any portraits of him anywhere. There was one room in the house that Eloise told me they kept locked up with storage items, but now I discover this must have been Oliver’s room.

  His sudden arrival. The lack of pictures. The locked up room. It all smells of something peculiar.

  “Please sit. Catherine has cooked up a special meal fitting for my son’s return. Fricando veal and harrico,” Hugh smiles as if he didn’t attempt to maul me earlier. “And I even hear she whipped up some transparent pudding. I’m especially looking forward to that one.”

  I shudder at hearing him speak to me as I take my seat and give him a slight nod. Then, I affix my eyes on our guest. After four months of dinner with only that of the disgusting Mr. Claxton, I’m eager to have someone else to talk to and look at.

  “I don’t mean to be impolite, but your father never spoke of you,” I blurt out before I talk myself out of it.

  Hugh huffs and Oliver nearly chokes on his wine.

  “My, my,” Oliver finally chuckles. “You are a lively one.”

  I shrug my shoulders and sip the wine that has been placed before me. “Simply speak my mind is all.”

  “It will do you some good for Emmett to return. A woman should know her place in a man’s world,” Hugh grits out.

  I ignore his offensive statement and raise a brow to Oliver.

  “Well, Mrs. Claxton,” he drawls out my married name. “My family and I had a falling out some time ago. It was in my best interest to pursue some other endeavors. However, my father and I are able to put the past behind us. Therefore, it would seem that you shall now see quite a bit of me.”