The Lyon's Lady Love: The Lyon's Den Read online

  He recognized she was nervous and tired on top of that. He kissed her hair and said, “It’s been a long day, Emma. We will get a good night’s sleep and then depart for Shorecrest in the morning.”

  She frowned. “Do you mean . . .” Her voice trailed off, obviously uncertain how to phrase her question.

  “It means just that. We both are exhausted from the wedding and our journey. We will sleep.” He kissed her brow tenderly.

  “Oh.”

  The coach stopped and he leaned forward to open the door. Climbing out, he reached for her, capturing her waist and setting her on the ground. She yawned sleepily. Marcus kept one hand about her waist and sipped his arm behind her knees, sweeping her off her feet and bringing her into the inn.

  “Please. No. This is embarrassing. Put me down, Rutherford,” she protested.

  “No,” he said firmly, rather liking the feel of her in his arms.

  His wife . . .

  She buried her reddened face against his chest as he greeted the innkeeper, who told him his usual room was ready. Marcus thanked the man and headed up the stairs with his bride, who now murmured against his chest. He felt the rumble but couldn’t decipher her words and chuckled.

  Lifting her head, she said, “It’s not funny,” and buried her face against him again.

  He reached their room and opened the door, crossing the large bedchamber and placing her on the bed. The footman followed and set their two valises down. The trunks would remain atop the coach.

  Emma sat up. “I have never been carried anywhere in my life.”

  He grinned. “My advice is to get used to it. I enjoyed it.”

  She smiled up at him. “Actually, I quite enjoyed it.”

  “I’m glad.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “Let me help you undress.”

  Her eyes widened in panic.

  “You have no lady’s maid. We’ll remedy that once we return to London. For now, I will help you. No worries,” he assured her. “I am as tired as you are and longing for my head to rest against that pillow.”

  “So, we will sleep together?”

  He looked around. “I only see the one bed. I hope that is all right. After all, we are married, Lady Rutherford.”

  “I suppose we are,” she said and yawned again.

  Marcus took her hands and pulled her to her feet. He helped her remove her traveling gown and corset, leaving her in a thin chemise. Her firm, round breasts called out to him and he ignored their whispers. They would get plenty of his attention tomorrow.

  “There’s a screen. Take your valise and change into your night rail behind it.”

  She did as he suggested. The moment she was out of sight, he tugged off his cravat and stripped off his coat and waistcoat. His shirt came next. As he pulled it over his head and tossed it on a chair, he heard a gasp.

  Emma had reappeared. Her eyes were as wide as saucers as she studied him.

  “I’ve never seen a man stripped to the waist.”

  He heard wonder—and approval—in her voice.

  “You may explore me all you wish tomorrow. Get into bed, Emma.”

  She pulled the covers back and scooted beneath them, facing away from him. It was a good thing because the sight of her in her night rail had him salivating.

  “My pins. I forgot.”

  She sat up, her back still to him, and began pulling them from her hair. Marcus removed everything below the waist and then climbed into bed, pulling the bedclothes to his waist. She yawned again loudly and set the last pin on the table next to the bed.

  “I should brush it. Braid it. But I might fall asleep if I tried,” she said.

  “Then lie down. We’ll worry about your hair in the morning.”

  She slid back under the covers. They were so close and yet not touching.

  He wanted to touch her. Everywhere.

  “Emma, I know we said we weren’t going to be intimate tonight but may I hold you as we fall asleep?”

  “I suppose.” She sounded very timid and unsure.

  Marcus reached out an arm and brought it around her, pulling her to him until they rested as two spoons nestled together. That wonderful vanilla scent surrounded him. He doubted he would get much sleep tonight but it would be wonderful having his new wife in his arms.

  “Marcus?” she asked softly.

  “Yes, Emma?”

  “Thank you for marrying me.”

  He kissed her shoulder. “Thank you for having me.”

  Chapter Nine

  Emma awoke, blanketed by warmth—and man.

  Her husband.

  They were as close as two people could be. His heated skin burned through her thin night rail. She could smell a trace of the spiced cologne he wore and something else, something masculine, a dark, deep, wonderful scent that had her thinking forbidden thoughts. His arm rested against her waist, keeping her snug against him.

  Mrs. Blackwell had tried to tell her something about when a man and woman coupled but Emma had stopped listening because it was just too embarrassing. She couldn’t imagine herself doing some of things Mrs. Blackwell said men liked.

  Until now.

  Marcus Rutherford was all male. His size. His smell. The twinkle in his eyes. They weren’t quite the strangers they had been when they’d shared a kiss. They had taken vows with one another. Eaten their wedding breakfast together. Spent hours conversing in the carriage yesterday. He was intelligent and amusing and thoughtful. Emma knew him about as well as anyone, other than Mrs. Blackwell.

  But could she do some of the things her employer had told her?

  If she had to, she would. Her husband was a wonderful specimen of manhood. She’d rather touch him than anyone else.

  She felt his warm breath on her neck. The rise of his chest. The golden hair on that magnificent chest she’d glimpsed last night. His shoulders were broad and his belly flat, with ridges of muscles. She had the desire to stroke that hair. Feel the muscles. Oh, Lord, she even wanted to kiss it. Kiss him.

  She also felt something pressing into her backside and knew from Mrs. Blackwell’s descriptions that it was his manhood. What he would put inside her. It was the way they would make a baby. Her employer had said the first coupling hurt but all the ones after would be most pleasant.

  He began to stir and she lay still. His breathing changed and she knew he was awake.

  “Emma?” he asked softly.

  “Yes?”

  His arm tightened possessively as his lips pressed against her nape. He had the most delicious lips. They glided across her skin. Then his tongue flicked along the side of her neck, bringing a shiver of delight. His arm moved so his hand could lightly stroke her belly. That brought a quick throb to the place between her legs, somewhere she’d never thought about much. As Marcus’ fingers danced along her belly and up her ribcage, the throbbing increased in intensity, leaving her wanting . . . something.

  His hand cupped her breast, kneading it gently, causing it to ache. His fingers skimmed lightly in circles which grew smaller and smaller until a lone finger circled her nipple. She felt it tightening, begging for attention. From him.

  Then his thumb grazed it. Her breath quickened and the throbbing grew. He rolled it between his thumb and forefinger, tweaking it playfully. She heard sounds coming from her, sounds she’d never heard before, ones she didn’t even know she could make.

  “Do you like that?” he whispered in her ear, his lips brushing the lobe, causing her to shiver.

  “Yes,” she managed to get out, words beyond that one syllable too difficult to conjure.

  He released her nipple, bringing disappointment, but his hand splayed against her belly and started stroking it again. He moved lower, toward the throbbing. Anticipation filled her. He reached her nether curls and cupped her mound, causing her breath to hitch. As his lips caressed her neck, his fingers danced back and forth along the seam of her sex. Her pulse beat rapidly. Blood rushed to her ears. Her breathing became more shallow and rapid.

 
Then he pushed a finger inside her. Emma tensed.

  “It’s all right,” he assured her, stroking her hair. “Try to relax.”

  “I don’t know if I can,” she admitted.

  “You will. Don’t think. Just feel.”

  She did her best, knowing he knew what he was doing. He was thirty. Of course, he’d had experience being with other women. Part of that bothered her. It shouldn’t have. But it did.

  “Marcus? When will you take a mistress?”

  His finger stilled. “What?”

  “You heard me. I know that’s what men do.”

  His finger slipped from her and he turned her so they faced one another.

  “I will never take a mistress. I promise you, Emma. I will never break that promise.”

  “But . . . what if I’m no good at this?”

  He kissed her. “I think you’re very good at this. From the kiss we shared before we wed, I believe you’ll be extremely good at this.”

  His words pleased her but she asked, “What if you get tired of me?”

  Marcus gazed steadily at her. “I could ask the same. What if you tire of me?”

  She hadn’t thought about that. “I don’t think I could,” she replied. “You are very handsome. My fingers are itching to touch your wonderful body.”

  A smile lit his face. “Then we share something in common.” He brushed her hair from her face. “Believe me, Emma. I will be faithful to you. I take the vows we spoke very seriously. I want to be a good husband and father to our children.”

  “Because my money saved you?”

  He frowned. “No. Because I am drawn to you. We may have met in a most unusual way but I feel we were fated to be together. I already enjoy your company a great deal.”

  “You do? I feel I am rather boring.”

  He shook his head. “You are the opposite of boring. You are my wife. This is our life. Now, may I get back to what I was doing?”

  Emma felt the blush rising up her neck, spilling onto her cheeks.

  He cradled her face in his large hands. “Intimacy can be difficult at first. We are becoming friends but we will continue to learn about each other. This can help bring us closer together. Do you trust me?”

  She looked into those piercing blue eyes. Her heart answered for her. “I do.”

  His answer was to kiss her, long and deep, no rush. Her skin warmed as the kiss continued, his hands running up and down her arms. Then his fingers sought her again and returned to where she throbbed. He caressed her and slid a finger inside her once more. She fought tensing up, losing herself in his kiss and the feel of him touching her. Another finger joined the first and fondled her, causing her insides to go wobbly. Her hips began rising, meeting his stroke, as something inside her built to a fever pitch.

  Then she tumbled fast and hard, falling, falling, all the while certain he would catch her. Her body shook with tremors. Her nails dug into his back. She rocked and rose and gasped into his mouth. Then the sensation subsided. Emma lay prone on the bed, her hands falling away from him, out of breath, no thought capable of forming in her head.

  Marcus lay next to her and pulled her to him, his arms going about her. One hand stroked her back. He pressed a tender kiss against her brow.

  “Was that a good start, Lady Rutherford?” he asked.

  Emma raised her eyes to meet his gaze. “It has left me breathless, my lord.”

  He kissed her mouth softly.

  They lay together several minutes, no words necessary. She felt treasured. Protected. Happy.

  Finally, he said, “We need to rise and dress. We can be at Shorecrest by a little after noon. I’m eager to show your new home to you.”

  He untangled himself from her and tossed the bedclothes from him. As he rose, Emma was able to see how glorious he was since he hadn’t a stitch on. A slow smile spread across her lips.

  This beautiful man was hers. All hers. She wouldn’t have to share him with anyone else.

  She watched him dress, enjoying her view, wishing he would take it all off again and come back to bed with her. She understood they hadn’t made love yet because what he’d done hadn’t hurt at all. On the contrary, it had felt most wonderful. Emma realized that he must know how nervous she’d been about this part of their marriage and was slowly bringing her along. Her respect for him grew. His kindness was something she would not forget. She swore she would be a good wife to this man.

  And prayed he never learned who she truly was.

  “I can smell the sea!” Emma said, leaning out the carriage window and inhaling deeply.

  Marcus laughed. “I always knew I was almost home when I could smell the salt in the air.”

  He squeezed her hand and she turned from the window to him. The remainder of the journey to Shorecrest had passed quickly. They had talked some. Kissed quite a bit. She knew he wanted her to grow comfortable with him touching her. If that had been his goal, he’d most certainly accomplished it. The kisses hadn’t been enough. Emma had wanted far more from him and had almost told him so. She’d been too shy to admit it, though. Hopefully, she would learn to open up more with him as time went on.

  “I cannot wait to see the estate. I have missed living in the country.”

  “Were you in London long with Mrs. Blackwell?”

  “Five years.”

  She left it at that. Marcus had said he didn’t wish to talk about their pasts. Of course, parts of it invariably would come up. She would pick and choose what she told him, though, not wishing for him to know who her father was and how he’d swindled half of London society. It was even possible that Marcus’ father was one of the men her father had defrauded.

  “I grew up in Derbyshire,” she added, not totally wanting to shut him out. “The only water I ever saw was a small pond on our estate. It took coming to London to see a great river like the Thames. I find myself drawn to the water. Mrs. Blackwell and I would walk almost daily along the Serpentine. I am eager to see the Channel.”

  “I can’t imagine not ever having seen it. Growing up at Shorecrest, I went to the sea almost daily. To walk along the shore. Fish. Ride. Oh, do you ride? If not, I’d be happy to teach you.”

  “I haven’t for many years and have missed it.”

  “I only have one horse now,” he apologized. “I sold the rest last year to cover various debts.”

  Emma squeezed his fingers. “Don’t be ashamed. That part of your life is over now. No more troubles. You have my money.”

  “Our money,” he said quickly. “I don’t want you to think of yourself as having nothing, Emma. You may have whatever you wish for. Of course, I’ll settle a monthly allowance on you for small needs. You can charge other goods at the dressmaker’s. The milliner’s. That kind of thing.”

  “I suppose I do need a new wardrobe. I haven’t ever been out in society. Mrs. Blackwell and I led a very quiet life.” She saw confusion in his eyes and knew he was determined not to ask her about it. “I was her companion when I came to London. She lost Major Blackwell in the war and was lonely.”

  Marcus nodded, taking her words in. “Well, when we return to London, you will want to have a new wardrobe made up. We will be attending society events.”

  Her throat grew tight. She knew that was expected. Her only saving grace was she’d never made her come-out. Never met anyone in London society since she’d always stayed home with Mama when Seton disappeared to the city for months at a time. The ton wouldn’t know her connection with Seton. She had a new name. She prayed no one would discover her true identity.

  “I will. Perhaps Amanda or some of her friends could help me.”

  He nodded. “She would be happy to. She has already grown fond of you. I can tell. Soon, she’ll like you even better than me.”

  “I hope we will become friends.”

  “You will. She always begged Mother to have another baby—but only if it were a girl. Amanda loved me and we have always been close but she always desired a sister. You can be that to her, Em
ma.”

  The carriage turned and they started up a long lane. She stuck her head out the window again and said, “Oh, my! I can see the house. It’s lovely.”

  “It has some work that needs to be done. It could use a new roof.”

  “And horses,” she added. “Could we find some in Hastings?”

  “We can. Or at a nearby farm. A neighbor breeds horses. We can go visit him if you’d like and get mounts for us both.”

  “Could we also have horses to ride in London? Is that too much to ask for?”

  “I told you, whatever you wish for, you may have. Tattersall’s has the best horses in the city. It will be easy to find mounts there. Are you a good rider?”

  “I used to be. Mama loved riding and we went often before she became too ill to do so.” A wave of sadness swept over her. She wished her mother could have met Marcus.

  “I’d like to have you meet our tenants while you’re here, as well.”

  “Can we walk the property to do so?” she asked.

  “It might be too far.”

  “We could share the horse you now have and make our rounds tomorrow,” she suggested. “I very much want to meet your farmers and see the estate.”

  “And go to the sea,” he prompted.

  “Most certainly see the sea,” she agreed, giggling.

  “We can walk to it this afternoon if you’d like.”

  Excitement filled her. “Could we?”

  “I don’t see why not.”

  The coach came to a halt and Marcus opened the door and ventured out. He reached for her and swung her to the ground. Emma turned and saw about a dozen servants in two lines, waiting to greet them. It surprised her. With the size of Shorecrest, she would have expected two or three times the amount. Then she realized Marcus must have had to let many of them go due to his financial difficulties. She determined to speak to the housekeeper and see about hiring back as many as they could.

  Tucking her hand through the crook of his arm, her new husband led her to a couple she guessed were the butler and housekeeper.

  “Greetings, my lord, Lady Rutherford,” the man said, his brown eyes kind. “It is so good to have you home. I am Perkins, my lady. This is Mrs. Perkins, who is your housekeeper.”