The Stranger I Married

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.”

“Abby,” he growled, furious at the tightening he felt in his gut. Would she forever drive him insane?

“That growl…” Her eyes widened, then softened. “Your roguish tendencies turn my insides to jelly, did you know that?”

“I did not growl!” Against his will, his arm drew into his body, pulling her with it.

“Yes, you did. What are you doing?” she gasped when he licked the very edge of her lips. “You intend to ravish me, do you not?”

His half-drunken brain was inundated with the warmth of her slender body, the soft scent of her, and the voice he loved. Her cries in orgasm were enough to make his cock weep with joy. It was leaking even now, he was so aroused, and she had done nothing to make him feel this way. It was simply her. Something indefinable about her.

“No,” he murmured in her ear. “I intend to fuck you.”

“Rhys!”

When he released her wrist and reached for her breast, he was not surprised to find her nipple hard against his palm. Those long, delicious nipples. He pulled her to the floor.

“What? Here?” Her shock would have made him laugh, if he weren’t concentrating so fiercely on yanking her skirts out of the way. “On the rug? What about the bed?”

“Next time.”

Finding her slick and hot, Rhys began to work his cock into her with a groan of surrender. Abby whimpered softly.

“Will you regret this, too?” she asked, squirming beneath him.

He knew she was sore, could feel how swollen her tissues were, but could not desist. Watching her as he forced her body to take him, he nearly drowned in those blue eyes with their golden flecks. “Never,” he vowed.

“You lied earlier.” Her smile was brilliant and watery with renewed tears. “I have never been so happy to have been lied to.”

He had never been so happy either.

Which was a torment worse than hell itself.

Unwilling to leave Isabel after her apparent upset the night before, Gerard found himself walking several feet behind her as the Hammond party left their horses with grooms and walked to a location prepared for an alfresco picnic. Dressed in flowered muslin with a large satin bow at the back and a wide-brimmed straw hat upon her upswept auburn tresses, his wife looked both elegant and young. The latter effect was enhanced by her sparkling eyes and wide smile.

That he was responsible for her look of contentment was astonishing to him. Prior to four years ago, he had never pleased anyone but himself, and he’d never in his life made a woman happy outside of sexual intercourse. He had no notion how he’d managed the deed. He knew only that he would continue to keep her so blissful if it killed him.

To wake to Isabel pressing kisses to his chest with laugher in her eyes was beyond heavenly. To feel her turn to him, snuggle with him, reach for him when she grew cold…It was a type of intimacy he hadn’t known existed, and he had found it with his wife, the most beautiful and wonderful woman in the world. He deserved it less than anyone, but he had it. And he would cherish it. Spilling his seed inside her had been a foolhardy lapse, one he would not repeat. He could not risk impregnating her.

Glancing aside, he studied Trenton and said, “You still look morose. The country air not working its wonders on you?”

“No,” Trenton grumbled, frowning. “My ailment cannot be cured by fresh air or anything else.”

“What kind of ailment is that?”

“The female kind.”

Laughing, Gerard said, “I hope to be slowly developing a cure for that myself. Unfortunately, I doubt it would help you if I do.”

“Once Isabel discovers a dalliance on your part,” Trenton warned ominously, “the saints above will not be able to cure you.”

Gerard came to an abrupt halt and waited for Trenton to face him. The rest of the party continued on until they were quite alone. “Is that what you told my wife last night? That I would stray?”

“No.” Trenton stepped closer. “I merely told her to be practical.”

“Isabel is one of the most pragmatic women I know.”

“Then you do not know her well.”

“Beg your pardon?”

Trenton smiled wryly and shook his head. “Isabel is a romantic, Grayson. She always has been.”

“Are we talking about my wife? The woman who discards men who become too attached to her?”