Chapter One
London, 1816
“That will be all, Parsons, thank you.”
Nicholas March, the eighth Earl of Stortford, nodded at his valet and re-tied the sash of his brown silk dressing gown. He waited until Parsons had left the room and then strolled across to the internal door that connected his bedroom to the dressing area between him and his wife.
Light shone under Louisa’s closed door, and he smiled. It wasn’t that late. He’d even remembered to send word to his wife to ask her if it would be convenient for him to visit. He was punctilious like that, tried to respect Louisa in ways his father had never done with his mother. She would have no cause to complain about his boorish manners or his drunken outbursts. No fears that he would openly demean her in public.
His marriage was going to be a pattern card of respectability. Nicholas found himself sighing as he tapped on the door. It was harder than he had imagined to abandon his rakish bachelor ways and treat his wife as a lady should be treated: with respect, gentleness, and forbearance—especially in the marital bed. He knocked again. “My lady?”
There was no answer, and he frowned and tried the door handle. It opened easily and he stepped inside the room. The bed was empty, the tasteful silver and blue drapes he’d chosen for his new bride drawn back, the satin coverlet undisturbed. Nicholas looked around the large cozy space. His wife of almost one year sat curled up in a chair by the fireside, her bare feet tucked under her and her brown hair neatly braided for bed. A pair of spectacles balanced on the narrow bridge of her nose as she read intently from a leather-bound book.
She wasn’t beautiful. Nicholas hadn’t chosen her for her looks, but she had a lovely smile and warm brown eyes the color of toffee. He’d been attracted by her quiet demeanor, her obvious intelligence, and, to be perfectly frank, the size of her dowry. Her family was on the up, her father one of the new industrialists willing to pay to hoist his daughter even higher.
He’d met Louisa at one of his older sister’s interminable parties, and she’d made no effort to capture his interest. That alone had guaranteed his. It hadn’t taken him long to persuade her to marry him with both families’ avid support.
She still hadn’t noticed him. He cleared his throat. “My lady?”
She held up one finger as if he were a servant or a child interrupting her, and didn’t look up. Nicholas moved closer until his shadow blocked the candlelight. With a martyred sigh, Louisa raised her gaze to his face. He swept her a bow.
“Am I interrupting?”
She took her spectacles off and regarded him seriously for a long moment. “Yes, you are.” She gestured at the book she held. “Couldn’t you see that I was reading?”
For a moment Nicholas stiffened. She’d known he was coming. Why wasn’t she in bed waiting for him like a good wife should be? His ready sense of humor resurfaced, and he found himself smiling at his own conceit.
“I’m sorry, my dear. I thought you were expecting me.”
She glanced at the clock and jumped. “Oh, my goodness! You did say you would be visiting my bed this evening, didn’t you.”
Nicholas’s good humor faltered again. “You don’t sound very pleased about that.”
She bit her lip and slowly shut the book with a longing look. “It’s just that this novel I’m reading is so exciting. The pirate king has taken the heroine on his ship and is threatening to ravish her if she doesn’t reveal the secrets of her family’s hidden treasure.” She sighed and hugged the book to her bosom. “It was so diverting, I could hardly put it down.”
“It sounds like the sort of book that should be put down the drain.” He realized he sounded quite caustic. Good Lord, was he jealous of a book?
“It’s a love story.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Exactly. Who reads such unrealistic drivel?”
She raised her chin at him. “I do, and I enjoy such books excessively.”
“So I can see.” He simply looked at her. A flush rose on her cheeks.
“I’m sorry. I’ll get into bed immediately.”
He waited as Louisa rose to her feet and placed the book on the small table beside her chair. She walked across to the bed with all the enthusiasm of a child going off to receive a beating. Nicholas stared after her. Was he really so unwelcome?
“I can leave if you are tired.”
She turned to look at him as she shrugged out of her dressing gown and summoned a wan smile. “No, that’s all right. You are here now; you might as well get on with it.”
He strolled toward her, aware of the thrust of her nipples beneath her simple white nightgown. “If it won’t inconvenience you too greatly.”
She climbed onto the bed, giving him a glimpse of long pale legs and the rounded curves of her buttocks. “I know my duty, my lord.”
He sat on the edge of the bed until she was completely under the bedclothes. He blew out the candles around the bed and stripped off his dressing gown. Despite his reservations, his cock was erect and also ready to do its duty. With a sigh, he carefully folded back her nightgown and fitted himself between her thighs.
She didn’t protest his presence, but she didn’t seem to welcome him, either. With sudden resolve, he grabbed her hands and linked them behind his neck. She could at least hold him while he made love to her, make him feel like more than a beast ravishing an innocent.
Her cold fingers settled against his skin, and he nudged at the entrance to her sex with his cock. She wasn’t wet for him. Did ladies ever get wet with desire? Was that why his father had strayed? He shoved that thought out of his head as he eased his aching cock inside her tight passage. Her fingernails dug into his flesh, and he tried to move more slowly. Was he hurting her? If he asked, he knew she would deny it.
With exquisite care he began to move, tried to keep his weight off her to minimize the effect of his thrusts and save her from his more aggressive instincts. He sensed her move her head to one side and opened his eyes. She was staring over at the fireplace where her book lay. He went still.
“Louisa, am I boring you?”
Spice:
