His Wanton Marchioness Read online

  Lizzy sat there in her bed, confused and rather upset by the fact that her husband had leapt from their marital bed, apologized, and then fled. What in the world was going on?

  ~

  Carlisle stood just outside of his wife’s bedroom door, nervous as a schoolboy. Should he knock? Of course, he knew it would be poor form to barge in, but he hoped to make his apology and then quickly escape. With that in mind, he knocked once. His wife’s lady’s maid opened the door, her eyes widening in apparent surprise at seeing him.

  “My lord?” She seemed unsure of what to do.

  Taking control of the situation, he nodded. “I need a word with my wife.” Wife. It was both thrilling and foreign on his tongue.

  The woman turned away from him. “It’s your husband, my lady. He’d like a word with you.”

  “Of course, let him in.” He could hear his wife from where he stood. “That will be all for now, Sarah.”

  “Yes, my lady.” She curtsied and then scooted past him as he stepped into the room. The door closed behind him with a decided thump.

  “Good morning, Carlisle.” She stood near the window, limned by the morning sunlight streaming in. She seemed to glow.

  He cleared his throat. “Good morning, Lizzy. I apologize for the early morning intrusion, but I wished to speak with you privately.”

  “It’s no intrusion. You are my husband, after all.” She offered a small smile.

  “Yes, well, I wanted to apologize for…” he paused, struggling to find the right words. He was sorry for spanking her, for handling her so roughly, for treating her like a common whore. But he wasn’t sorry they had married, that she was his wife. That he had been the only man to slip inside her so intimately. And by God, the woman’s curves would drive him mad! He jerked his focus back to the subject at hand and not his wife’s delectable body. “Well, for being so rough with you last night. I simply wanted to assure you there will not be a repeat of what occurred.”

  She blinked at him. “What exactly are you apologizing for?”

  He could feel the heat creeping up his neck and into his face as he tried to form a response. “For, uh… handling you so roughly. Using you as I did…” The words seemed to strangle in his throat for a moment. “For spanking you. It was unconscionable on my part. As I said, it will never occur again.” His face was aflame, but he had made his apology, and he was desperate to escape now. “Yes, well. That was all. Have a good day.” He turned and took a step toward the door.

  “Carlisle, do you not wish to hear my response?” she asked calmly.

  His belly curdled as he turned to face her. He had hoped she would merely nod and let him be on his way, but it seemed his wife had something to share. “Of course.”

  “Excellent. I thought about what occurred between us, and I must say, while I was rather confused, at first—events unfolded quite differently than my mother suggested. You see—I can’t say that I was offended by what transpired. I’m not sure what you are apologizing for.”

  Carlisle nearly choked on his surprise. “You aren’t sure what I’m apologizing for? Lizzy, I licked your—your cunny, flipped you on all fours, took you as a man would a whore, and then slapped you on your arse! I’m ashamed of what I did… how I treated you!”

  “Oh, pish! Don’t be ridiculous. I’m sure that plenty of men—”

  “Do not dismiss what I am saying. I treated you poorly, but more importantly, I could have hurt you.” He was shocked she was being so forgiving, but then it was Lizzy. Perhaps he should have expected this reaction. “You are too naïve to understand—”

  “Are you suggesting that I do not know my own mind on this matter?” Lizzy asked, anger and shock lacing her words.

  He flashed back to when another woman had been furious with him. When he had spanked his mistress and then fucked her hard. She had asked him to do it, goaded him until he lost his head with lust. Afterward, she had called him a monster and demanded he leave and never return. He’d been two and twenty, barely a man, but he’d gone too far. Had liked it too much, and he knew the truth of her words would haunt him. He’d stuck to women who understood his proclivities after that, but a wife could never be such a woman. He’d known he needed to give up his desires. Had planned to do so, and then his wife had appeared wearing that damn filmy cotton night-rail, and he’d lost his head. Had licked her pussy and then fucked her hard, like the beast he was.

  He drew in a breath and tried to stem the tide of self-disgust. “I am merely trying to get you to understand that what I did was inappropriate, and I am sorry. It will not happen again. No further discussion is required. Have a good day.”

  With that, he turned and left her room before she could further the discussion. Good, God! He must have the most accommodating wife in the history of all mankind. Which, of course, made him even more of a brute for how he’d treated her. But she would see, with time, she would come to understand that he could be different. He could be the man she thought she’d married, the kind, gentle man of their courtship. He would be that man if it took every last ounce of his restraint.

  Chapter Three

  April 1859

  He was an utter fool. He knew this about himself because he currently stood in his study staring out the window at his wife, who strolled through the garden with her sister, and all he could imagine was taking Lizzy over his knee and paddling her behind until it was as warm and pink as her pussy. A month later and the red of his handprint on her delicate white skin still haunted him. He hadn’t meant to spank her on their wedding night, but then he’d flipped her on to her hands and knees and ploughed into her from behind. He should have known the temptation would be too much.

  How did one explain to their sweet, petite little wife that they enjoyed spanking women? That he wanted nothing more than to warm her behind before he sank deep into her cunny and planted his seed? He groaned and turned away from the window. He was torturing himself again.

  He had to cease this ridiculous fixation he had with her bottom. Of course, he hadn’t known when he married her that she would have such a deliciously round derrière, but he’d suspected. He’d seen the curve of her waist and the swell of her breasts under her gowns. Bloody hoop skirts hid all the best parts. But nothing had prepared him for that nightgown she’d worn on their wedding night.

  He had sent her to get ready for bed in hopes that if she were fully draped in her night clothes when he arrived, he would find the will to control the lust that had been raging all day since he’d seen her in her wedding gown. The pale ivory silk had only made her skin more translucent. And then there had been the neckline of the blasted thing. It plunged so low he worried her breasts would spill out all day. It had taken every ounce of his self-control not to stand over his wife and snarl at every male in attendance.

  He flopped into the chair behind his desk. What he’d done to his wife that night, the way he’d fucked her, was beyond the pale. He knew it. Had known it then and had known it the next morning when he apologized. He’d been a monster. But she’d not complained and instead had refused his apology. She’d been bloody confused by it! But he knew better. She had born everything he’d done to her—until he spanked her. Then she’d gone still as stone, and he’d known instantly it was a mistake.

  He’d gone too far.

  He knew men made love to their wives. He knew many married couples actually enjoyed having sex together, and he’d wanted that with his wife. But his deviant needs had reared their head. Since that night, he’d tried to keep himself in check. He went to her at night, dousing all the lights but the fireplace to fight the chill. He climbed on top of her under the covers and rucked her solid white night-rail up to her waist before sliding into her body. And then he balanced on his arms, afraid of smothering her with his hulking form as he pumped in and out of the tight clasp of her sheath. He worked his hips until his orgasm broke, and he planted his seed inside her.

  After that first night, he’d resigned himself to sex the old-fashioned
way. He wouldn’t risk scaring—or worse, hurting—his wife because he lost control. And he would never take a mistress because that would devastate Lizzy. Not to mention, no other woman held any appeal. He cast a resentful glance at the correspondence scattered across his desk. Standing around, mooning over his wife, was an utter waste of time. And yet, he could not bring himself to focus. He was ridiculous.

  A knock at the door preceded his wife’s appearance. “There you are, Carlisle. I wanted to see what you might like for dinner this evening. I was about to sit down with cook to discuss the menu.”

  He picked up a page of writing and tried to feign indifference, despite the eager twitching in his pants. “You may have whatever you wish. I’ll be taking the evening meal at my club.”

  “You will?” Lizzy sounded surprised, as she should, considering he hadn’t been home for anything, let alone dinner, in weeks.

  It was too hard to sit across from her and make conversation when he lusted after her so intensely. He went to his club to meet with his secretary and to get work done because her presence in the house was too great a distraction. He had finally convinced himself that if he got her with child, his desires would fade, which was why he went to her bed nearly every night.

  Lizzy stepped into his study and closed the door with a decided thump. “Carlisle, I have taken nearly every meal since our wedding a month ago alone. Despite your nightly visits to my bed, I am wondering if you perhaps regret marrying me.”

  “I have no such regret. I am simply a busy man. You knew this when we married.” He barely looked up from the paper that he was reading for the third time.

  “Well then, I respectfully request that you start acting like a husband rather than a bachelor with a new housekeeper,” his wife snapped at him—dear Gods!

  He looked up, surprised by the bite in her tone, and found her face had turned beet red while her hands fisted at her sides. The flash in her eyes intrigued him, but he needed to keep his distance. Both physically and emotionally. It was the only way to keep himself in check. “I’ve been very busy with preparing for the next session of Lords and managing my estates.”

  “I don’t care if you are corresponding with the Queen herself! I would appreciate taking a meal with my husband.”

  Guilt and shame swept over him. She was right; he had been avoiding her at meals. He had hoped she might not notice, but clearly, that wasn’t the case. Feeling like a horrendous bastard, he sacked up and did what he knew he had to do. “And I would appreciate not having my wife nag me. Perhaps you could work on that instead of being nosy about how I spend my time.” He shot back at her coolly and waited.

  His wife stood there looking stricken. Then she turned on her heel and stalked from the room. He groaned as he let his head collapse onto the desk. “Bloody hell!”

  He was an utter arse and would rot in hell for the rest of his days for treating her in such a manner. But he couldn’t fall more in love with her. It was already too much. He barely had his desires leashed, and he knew if they had a cosy dinner for two and chatted as normal couples did, he would only fall more under her spell. Disaster lay down that path.

  With a curse, he rose from his desk and left the house. He would retreat to his club earlier than expected.

  ~

  Alexander stumbled in the darkness of the hallway as he tried to navigate to his room. The house was pitch black, not a single lamp left on to light his path. Well, he supposed that answered the question of whether his wife was still angry with him. Pain shot up his foot as he tripped over a chair in the hallway. Where the devil did that come from? Next, he banged into a table, nearly knocking a vase of flowers over. He managed to catch the fragile container before it crashed. Manoeuvring past all of that, he finally found his chamber door. Slipping inside, he closed it and began stripping off his cravat and then his coat. His valet knew he was not required in the middle of the night. The man was getting on in years, and Carlisle couldn’t ask him to wait up to all hours of the morning for him. But he couldn’t let the man go, either. He was a long-standing family servant.

  He continued stripping down until he was naked and then started toward his bed. He was about halfway there when a thought occurred to him. How angry was she? Would she have locked him out of her room tonight? Curious, he turned and made his way over to the adjoining door. He reached out, gripped the cool brass knob in his hand, and turned it. Except the knob didn’t move. She had actually locked her door! He was shocked. Really, he shouldn’t have been. After all, he’d acted like an utter ass earlier, but his wife was so tenderhearted. Truly, it was one of the things he loved most about her. She never had a cross word for anyone, not even her awful mother. That she’d snapped at him had been both surprising and exciting.

  He snorted. Obviously, he had tested and found her boundaries.

  With a shrug, he turned back toward his bed. He was far too inebriated to have gone to her bed in any event, but he could admit that it rankled that it was out of his control. He imagined being sober enough to get through the door and pull his wife from her bed. He would bend her over his knee and spank her soundly for her—wait. For being angry with him? Lord, he was horny and truly desperate for his wife. He was going to have to do something about it soon. If he didn’t find a way to exercise this desire, he would do something regrettable. More so than what happened on his wedding night. That simply could not be allowed.

  Chapter Four

  May 1859

  Lizzie entered the grand salon of her mother-in-law’s townhouse. It was an elaborate setting, with silks and brocades on every surface in shades of green and gold. There were a dozen or more women already gathered, and she could hear more arriving in the foyer. She sighed. She remained upset with her husband and truly had been in no mood to pay a visit, but it was her husband’s mother, and the Duchess of Brookshire had been nothing but kind to her from the moment they’d met. There were far too many among the Ton who found her to be too much of a wallflower for their tastes. They’d all been rather shocked when Carlisle had asked for her hand.

  “Lizzy, dear. Do come here and say hello.” The duchess waved her over to where she stood with a rather striking older woman with blonde hair and deep green eyes.

  Lizzy did as she was bade and crossed the room. “Good afternoon, your grace.” She curtsied, as was proper.

  The duchess made a huffing sound. “I’ve told you there is no need for such formality among ourselves. You must call me Mags as all my close friends and family do.”

  Lizzy cast a quick glance at the elegant older woman witnessing the exchange. “My apologies, I wasn’t sure in front of all your guests—”

  “Bah, friends, every one of them.” Mags smiled. “And this lady is one of my most trusted among them. Lady Carlisle, allow me to introduce the Baroness of Heartfield to you.”

  “Lady Carlisle.” The woman smiled and curtsied to Lizzy. It still struck her as strange to have a woman, clearly her elder, paying such respect to her. But that was the way of titles and the peerage.

  “Lady Heartfield, it is a pleasure to meet you.” Lizzy smiled back.

  “Good, now Marie, I have to tell you this girl may be quiet, but she stole Carlisle’s heart from the moment he saw her. It took him weeks to finally ask her to dance at a ball.” Mags laughed in delight. “The poor dear was afraid he’d scare her with his great hulking form.”

  Marie laughed as well, but Lizzie looked at her mother-in-law in surprise. “Did he?”

  “Did he, what?” Mags asked.

  “Did he think he’d scare me because of his size?” Lizzie clarified her question. This was news to her and certainly shed some light on their wedding night, not to mention the month of nights since.

  “Did he not tell you? How like him. Goodness, yes. He was terribly afraid that as petite as you are, you’d take a fright if he approached you. It took him weeks to work up the courage to ask you. Of course, had another man approached you during that time, I imagine he would have moved a
little quicker. But you hid yourself well amongst the wallflowers.”

  Lizzy’s face heated gently at the mention of her being a wallflower. She had often sat with them because very few men bothered to notice her when her sister was about. Theo was so vibrant and lovely that Lizzy just sort of faded into the background. And most of the time, she was fine with that. She’d never enjoyed being the center of attention. “I suppose I did. I must say, the first time he asked me to dance, I was so shocked I barely said a word to him the entire time.”

  Mags chuckled. “He thought you were the most enchanting creature. He was quite pleased that you danced with him.” She turned to Marie. “And of course, it was only a few weeks after that he asked for her hand. He was besotted from the first.”

  Marie laughed. “I can see why. You are lovely, Lady Carlisle.”

  “Oh, please call me Lizzy. If Mags holds you so dear, I am sure we shall be fast friends.”

  “Please, call me Marie then. I agree; Mags has excellent taste in friends.”

  “Wonderful!” Mags clapped her hands. “Oh, please excuse me. I see Mrs. Brown looking for me. She must have a question about the tea service.” Mags excused herself, leaving Lizzy alone with Marie.

  She struggled to remain serene as she smiled politely at the ladies milling about. She was miserable—utterly, unequivocally miserable. Her husband still avoided her except for the now sporadic visits to her bed. It seemed the nights he bothered to have dinner with her, which she suspected was in response to her outburst a month ago, he had stopped coming to her bed for sex. The nights she ate alone, he would appear, as was his custom, cloaked in darkness for a quick tup, and then he would scamper back to his rooms. She had no idea what to do.

  Prior to their wedding, her husband had been a gentle giant. He was a rather large man, but he had always been so careful with her. She’d felt protected, safe even. What Mags had told her was surprising and yet not. It all aligned with how he behaved before the wedding.