Celeste Bradley - [Royal Four 01] Read online

  The sheer fabric did nothing to keep her from chill and the hearth was only beginning to glow, so Willa slid beneath the thin coverlet on the bed.

  She had to admit a feeling of relief that she needn’t share it with anyone. With nothing more than a stretch and a yawn, she felt herself slipping gratefully away into sleep. She hoped Mr. Nathaniel Stonewell would be as comfortable as she was.

  Just before she slid completely off, a single thought crossed her mind.

  This morning, when she’d offered him her hand during the wedding …

  He’d said he had no ring.

  5

  Wrapped in his blanket on the hard plank floor before the fire, Nathaniel wasn’t able to rest. It was always worse at night, feeling the weight of his disgrace, the pain of his lost honor excruciatingly memorable in the dark and the quiet.

  Without the busy noise of his day with Miss Trent—Willa—in the quiet his mind began to willfully recount what he had lost. His father disdained him. His family rejected him. His engagement had been dissolved.

  Well, that had turned up a twist, hadn’t it? He had a wife at last but, like Peter, Peter Pumpkin-Eater, couldn’t keep her.

  The isolation only bit more deeply in the sprightly company of the woman. She simply made him think all the more about what he could never allow himself to have.

  Finally, he slept.

  Willa slept restlessly despite her exhaustion. She’d not slept anywhere but her own bed for twelve years. To be sure, her own bed was finer than this one, but still, one would assume that a long day of equestrian exertion would leave one inclined to sleep.

  As she lay there, staring at the cracking plaster ceiling yet again, a soft, low snore emerged from the blanket across the room.

  “I just knew it,” Willa muttered.

  She sat up and glared in Mr. Stonewell’s direction. One bare, muscular arm was the only thing visible, outflung as it was. The snore subsided after its single foray into the room, but the damage was done. Willa was thinking about what Mr. Stonewell was wearing beneath that blanket.

  She tried to lie back down and erase that wicked thought from her mind.

  No. Not effective at all.

  After a moment of indecision, Willa left her bed and padded silently across the room. If he woke up, she would simply say that she was tending the coals. She knelt next to him and peered into his face. He truly was extraordinarily handsome. She’d often been told she was pretty herself, but Willa had the uneasy feeling that Mr. Stonewell’s looks were quite another degree of attractiveness.

  He still smelled good, except that now Moira’s homemade soap was added in the mix. Willa didn’t mind. It made him smell a bit like home, as well.

  Was the rest of him as fine as his face? She couldn’t bear not knowing. With two fingers, Willa lifted the covers and peeked down the length of Nathaniel Stonewell. The nightshirt went quite properly past his knees, but she could still see muscled, naked, hairy calves and square, naked, hairy feet.

  “Goodness,” whispered Willa. “What big feet you have.”

  She didn’t live over a tavern for nothing. Willa knew a bit more about life than either Moira or John suspected. If one sat at an open window on a summer’s night, one could hear all sorts of conversations from the tavern window just below. One of those conversations had once touched upon the correlation between the size of a man’s feet and the size of his … parts.

  It seemed a little indecent to be peeking at Nathaniel’s naked body parts, but Willa couldn’t resist lifting the loose placket at the front of the nightshirt and peering down his wide, naked, hairy chest.

  It was a handsome chest, plated with firm, powerful muscles even in his lax state. She could see a little line of light brown hair trailing down his flat, hard belly. Now where did that go? Lifting the shirt a bit higher, she peeked lower—

  Oh … my.

  Clamping her eyes shut, she flipped his collar back to his chin and shot back to her own bed. No, she definitely shouldn’t have been looking at big, naked, hairy … parts. Bad Willa.

  But definitely intrigued, curious, slightly mystified Willa. What she had seen and what she ought to do about it was surely a puzzle.

  Oh, she had a vague idea. She lived over an ale room, after all. Yet those accounts had usually assumed male willingness. But if he wasn’t going to do his share, could it even happen? How did that work? Various incomplete images came to mind. Oh my.

  Suddenly the room was on its way to being stifling. Willa dropped the blanket from her shoulders with relief. No point in hiding from a man who didn’t even know she was in the room.

  To be truthful, Willa liked watching him sleep, at least since he had stopped snoring. He was terribly handsome, especially now that he had been cleaned up a bit. Lying back down on her cot, she willed herself to sleep once more. She was hoping she’d dream about what she’d seen….

  Nathaniel was dreaming. He dreamed he rested on a vast lush mantle, surrounded by satin and velvet. The air was warm and fragrant, and he heard the soft lilt of music.

  Peace. Comfort. Ease. He felt as though he were finally home.

  Gradually, he became aware of the rising dawn and the hard floor beneath his shoulder and hip, but still the velvety warmth remained.

  It was lovely, but it was just a dream. In a moment, he would wake entirely and the sweet comfort he was feeling would disappear, as dreams always did.

  Inhaling deeply, he shifted, burying his face into a fragrant pillow of silken hair and sliding his hand up Willa’s warm belly to cup her satiny breast.

  “Oh, bloody hell!” Flinging himself away from her, Nathaniel stumbled to his feet. Willa gave a feminine little grunt and rolled into the warm spot his body had left in the blankets.

  Daylight peeked through the clumsy shutters that were hung over the window.

  With a rush, the memories flooded back into his mind. He remembered the girl, the innkeeper, and the twin giants with their casual sympathy and their never-ending vigilance.

  Oh, bloody hell.

  Then came the memory of the wedding ceremony. His wedding ceremony. Witnesses, white lace, and all.

  Oh, bloody hell.

  Willa got up on her elbows on the mattress and blinked vigorously to wake herself up. Then she rolled her head to rid herself of the crick in her neck. Goodness, she felt as though she had rested on a rock all night.

  It wasn’t until her bleary vision cleared enough to see the man stalking about the room that Willa remembered that she was now a married woman.

  “Hello, Husband,” she chirped brightly.

  He turned to her, evidently about to speak. Instead, his eyes widened with astonishment.

  Curious as to why, Willa looked down at herself. She still wore the gossamer scrap of lawn that Moira had given her. Blushing a bit, she shyly returned her husband’s gaze.

  She wiggled uncomfortably, feeling very exposed in the light of day. His eyes bulged at the motion, and hope began to stir in Willa.

  “I wore it especially for you. Do you like it?”

  For a moment, Nathaniel didn’t take the words in. He was too busy staring at the appetizing sight before him. Huge dark eyes looked at him from the midst of a cloud of tumbled hair that trailed down to white shoulders and the beginnings of succulent round breasts.

  She wore only a sheer white nightgown with no sleeves and a scooped neckline that did nothing to hide the mouthwatering shadow of her cleavage. The night rail did nothing to hide anything at all.

  Moreover, her excuse for a nightdress gaped open all down its laced front, and somehow Nathaniel knew that he himself had done the unlacing.

  “Hellfire! How did you get here?”

  Willa looked around as if surprised herself by her location. “I don’t remember. I think I was cold.”

  Nathaniel gestured wildly to her gown. “Well, close that up or you’ll be colder yet!”

  Jerking at her gown, Willa glared at him. “Well, that I didn’t do!” Standing to
face him, Willa planted a fist on each hip. Unfortunately, she also released her hold on the front of her nightdress, and Nathaniel could see everything from the valley between her breasts to her navel.

  It was very distracting.

  “What are you looking at?” she demanded, then looked down. Quickly wrapping it shut, she frowned at him. Her chin went high. “I’m going to get dressed now,” she said grandly, hardly faltering at all. Her blush gave lie to her poise, however.

  With that, Willa strode across the room to the splintery screen provided in the corner. She never looked back to see Nathaniel standing in the circle of morning sunlight, smiling his first smile in a very long time.

  The road had widened considerably since Derryton and they had passed through a number of entertaining-looking villages on their way, but at the moment the view held little more than fields bound by stone walls, and sheep.

  Since this was nothing that Willa had not seen every day of her life, she cleared her throat and tried once more to talk to her husband.

  “If you are embarrassed about being too incapacitated last night to bed me, rest assured that I am willing to try again tonight,” she called helpfully.

  Then again, she’d heard men were sensitive on this subject.

  “Not that I am in any hurry or anything. No pressure at all.”

  Nothing. Not a nod, not a word.

  “I am sure that when you are feeling better, you’ll have no trouble performing your duties.”

  Still no response. This would never do. She took a deep breath and increased her strength of voice. She had marvelous strength of voice, since she often needed to make herself heard over the din of the taproom.

  “I apologize for disturbing your contemplation of the dust on the road, but I must know. It truly is quite necessary that you are capable, you see. You are able to perform, are you not?”

  There. He had to have heard that. The folk from miles around should have heard that.

  Nathaniel reined in his gelding and his temper at the same time. Twisting in the saddle, he watched as the she-demon from hell rode up beside him. “I hardly think my ability to perform is a topic for discussion on the open road,” he said frostily.

  Despite his scowl, she brightened. “Well, I want to know. I have asked you a great number of questions these past two days, and you have answered none of them.”

  Now that was an understatement. Nathaniel had lost count of her interrogations somewhere after a hundred. “What an odd creature you are.”

  “I know. But I fear you must answer this one, for your own safety.”

  “My safety depends upon it?” Nathaniel tilted his head. “Well, in that case, I have never had any difficulty ‘performing’—if sufficiently interested.” That should close that rather unnecessary subject. He turned to ride on.

  The mare hurried again. “Are you?”

  He was not going to turn around. “Am I what?”

  “Are you sufficiently interested?” Her tone was conversational. “In me?”

  Nathaniel stopped again and turned to look at her. “You are so odd.”

  “You repeat yourself. My mother said that only people with no imagination settle for repeating themselves.”

  “I shall endeavor to improve. You are incredibly odd.”

  “Yes, I believe we have established that. It isn’t my fault, you know. I’m an orphan.”

  “Ah, that explains all.” Nathaniel gave his gelding a subtle nudge to speed his walk slightly. Surely she would grow weary of shouting over a distance.

  The dainty clip-clop of the trotting mare came up next to his gelding, but Nathaniel refused to acknowledge it.

  “It won’t work to ignore me. It never does.”

  Nathaniel heaved a great sigh, although he despised sighing on principle. “No, I don’t suppose it does. What was it that you asked?”

  “Are you sufficiently interested in copulating with me?”

  Copulating? Where did she get that word? “No.”

  Silence. Nathaniel couldn’t believe it. He stole a look sideways, only to make sure she wasn’t dead or some such. She still breathed, but there was such a look of concentration on her face that Nathaniel began to fear in earnest.

  “I am considered attractive enough in Derryton. I’ve had no end of suitors, you realize. None as attractive as you, of course, although you are well on your way to being a bit pretty for my taste.”

  “I am not pretty!” Damn, she was doing it again. Nathaniel took a deep breath and held it for the count of ten. Then another, for the count of twenty. His mood eased and he began to hope she’d finished—

  “I shall have to cut my hair, then,” she said thoughtfully.

  Nathaniel was beginning to see why the village had been so eager to get rid of Willa. The girl was as mad as a caged cat. Nathaniel edged his horse to the side, just in case she carried any concealed weapons.

  “How’s that?” he asked, keeping his tone mild.

  “I shall cut my hair and wear trousers to entice you, since you prefer boys.”

  That tore it.

  In one deadly motion, Nathaniel leaped from his horse and scraped the little snip off her mount. Holding her tightly, he bent her over his arm despite her squeak of dismay.

  “I do not prefer boys,” he growled into her startled face, then kissed her half-open mouth before she could say one more maddening word.

  I’m going to catch fire. Her heart jumped through her ribs. Kisses were much better with cooperation.

  It was all new tastes and sensations and hot breath. It was strange and invasive and intimate.

  It was marvelous. Wrapping her arms around his neck, Willa threw her whole spirit into returning the kiss.

  His lips were hard and forceful at first, his beard stubble coarse against her face. He drove his tongue into her repeatedly, startling her and exciting her, and chewed roughly on her lips.

  Then his mouth softened and gentled, and his angry grip turned to a caressing embrace, until Willa began to shiver from the pangs of arousal that shot through her.

  When his mouth left hers to bury itself in her neck, she gasped but couldn’t slow down her racing breaths. All she could taste and feel was him.

  His hard hands slid to her backside and pressed her close to his harder body. Pressure built within Willa, until she feared bursting from it. She rubbed restlessly against him, trying to combat that hungry ache that consumed her, that ache to be touched all over.

  “Wildflower…,” he murmured into her neck, his breath hot on her skin.

  “Oh, Nathaniel,” she sighed.

  Nathaniel came to himself with a jolt and sprang away from the girl in his arms. Breathing hard, he backed away from her as if she were venomous. What was he doing? He had only meant to prove his point, and to shut her up for a moment.

  How had she aroused him so completely and mindlessly that he had nearly taken her on the dusty road?

  Nathaniel turned away from temptation and shoved his hands through his hair. He still found himself attuned to her, aware of her halting breath and shuffling feet. He heard her go back to her horse and the squeak of leather as she struggled back into the saddle. She gave an offended sniff. Then, when he didn’t respond, a louder, more emphatic, furious sniff.

  Still he didn’t turn. He had to think.

  The last thing his convoluted life needed was the further complication of a wife and family. He still wasn’t quite sure how the wife had happened, but if he kept on the way he was headed, there would be family indeed.

  It was only the intimacy of traveling together, surely. Only his solitude weighing heavily on his desires. Once in London, he could put her in the farthest chamber of Reardon House and keep his distance until the time came to send her off.

  Until then, for the good of both of them, he had to stay well away from the diabolical little minx who would be his wife.

  Thinking back on his overwhelming response to her untutored kiss, Nathaniel had to admit that might be e
asier said than done.

  As he mounted Blunt once more, Nathaniel hoped that at least his instant of madness had made her angry enough to keep her own distance.

  6

  Unfortunately, her resentment didn’t seem to last, and Willa was back to her normal chatterbox self by noon. However, it didn’t bother Nathaniel so much today. With her forthright manner and her odd Willa-esque insights into life, she was actually rather refreshing company.

  “Are there many bookshops in London?” she asked at one of their infrequent rests.

  “A few,” Nathaniel said drily. He had avoided most of her questions again today, but what could be the harm of answering this one?

  “I’ve read every book in Derryton many times, except for Dulcie Mason’s copy of The Housekeeper’s Exploration of the Uses of Vinegar. I could only read through it twice.”

  “All of two times?” Nathaniel was impressed. He couldn’t imagine reading the title twice without falling asleep.

  “Whenever someone from Derryton traveled, they would always bring back a book for me,” she said, her fondness for her far-reaching family evident in her tone. “Of course, since some of them don’t read themselves, this did make for rather unpredictable variety. Of all, my favorites were my parents’ collection. Have you read Linnaeus?” she asked eagerly.

  “A bit,” Nathaniel replied, startled. Carolus Linnaeus was a bit deep for a country miss, for the naturalist’s works had yet to be translated from Latin into English as far as Nathaniel knew. It seemed she was indeed a well-educated country miss!

  “My mother did so love Linnaeus,” Willa commented. “‘The flower’s leaves … serve as bridal beds’,” she quoted rapturously. “Really, I find it so much more satisfying than mere romantic poetry, don’t you? All that ‘heavenly bosoms kissed by moonlight and dew’ rot simply leaves me cold,” she said matter-of-factly.

  Nathaniel nearly choked. What the devil had she been reading? “Well….”

  Thankfully, she didn’t wait for him to reply.

  “I’m glad I’m not angry anymore,” she said cheerfully. “It’s a lovely diversion once in a while, but so tiring.”