Page 7 of The Marquess’s Stolen Bride (Dukes Gone Dirty #3)

7

H ayden’s home was lovely.

Too lovely, in fact, if such a thing was possible.

Madeline toyed with the knife beside her plate, too nervous to eat the dinner his staff had prepared. The dining room was so very large. The silverware was so polished and the furniture ornate…

Nerves made Madeline’s belly swarm.

The servants were very deferential, almost as if…

Almost as if you are their marchioness?

She reached for a glass of water.

You are the marchioness, you ninny. And she’d better get used to it.

“Will you give us a moment, please?” Hayden’s voice from the far end of the candlelit table startled her. For a moment, she thought he was talking to her. But he was addressing the footmen who were hovering nearby. They filed out, leaving her alone with Hayden.

Hayden stood and strode toward her, stopping at the seat beside hers. He pulled it out and sat. “There, that’s better.” He reached for her hand. “Now, what can I do to put you at ease?”

She smiled, ready to deny that she was uneasy, but how could she? “I…I don’t know. I’m sorry. I’ve just…I’ve never even seen a place so grand.”

“You grew up in a grand home yourself.” His eyes were kind, but there were questions there she didn’t want to face.

She didn’t want to talk about her childhood, or how he’d come to find her. She’d always known it was unusual. Even without Albert’s guidance, she would have figured that out. But he’d made sure to teach her what life was like outside their estate walls as a child. And with his stories, he’d given her glimpses of the outside world when she’d matured into a young lady and her father had locked her away.

For her own safe keeping, her father had said.

Her father was prone to paranoia, as well as fits of rage. When he wasn’t punishing her for some made-up misdeeds, he was protecting her virtue under lock and key.

No, not normal.

Indeed, Albert had long since convinced her that their father was just as mad as his enemies suggested.

“Our house might have been grand once,” she said. “But my father had sold off most of the furniture and paintings when I was a girl. And the countess sold off the rest these last few years since…well, since she took control.”

He nodded. “Well then,” he said in a more cheerful tone. “Would it make you feel better if I told the servants to hide the fine furnishings and paintings?”

She laughed at his teasing. “No, my lord.”

“Hayden,” he chided gently. “Or William, if you prefer. Though no one’s called me that since my mother left.”

“When was that?”

He looked away. “I was ten when she left us for another. She died shortly after that.” His gaze darted back to her. “That’s not public knowledge.”

She smiled. “Who would I tell?”

He returned her smile. “My father remarried.”

“Did you get on well with your stepmother?”

“No.”

She blinked at his tone, but the coldness was there and gone by the time he spoke again a second later.

“But she’s gone as well, so there’s no need to talk about her.”

“Did she pass away as well?”

“No. I sent her away.”

“I see.” Her belly tightened at the flare of anger she caught in his eyes. She’d gotten so used to seeing nothing but warmth and kindness, anything else seemed unnerving.

He glanced down at her plate. “You’ve barely eaten a thing.” He arched his brows. “That won’t do at all.”

Her lips parted in surprise when he plucked a berry from the bowl of fruit beside her plate. He held it up to her mouth, his thumb grazing her lower lip, which sent a shock of sensations through her. Suddenly she was very, very aware of how close he was.

She also couldn’t stop thinking about how it had felt to touch her lips to his.

It had been a quick, and quite possibly foolish act, but it had felt necessary at the time. She’d been so afraid—well, she was still a little afraid—of what it would be like when he touched her…intimately.

She couldn’t imagine his touch without stirring up memories of those vile men. And she had to be certain…

She couldn’t have married him if his touch made her feel so wretched, if a mere kiss made her want to be sick.

In that particular moment it had seemed a good idea. Like perhaps if she took control, she could overcome her fear.

It had worked…to some extent. The touch of his lips to hers hadn’t been the same at all. But it had led to a shocking sensation that left her skin feeling raw and sensitive while her belly had dipped low.

And now that sensation was back as his thumb brushed her lip and his dark gaze met hers. There was no laughter but no anger either. He looked at her like she was the only person in the world, and Madeline wondered if this was what men felt like when they imbibed.

Surely it was something like this because it made her head swim.

“Go on,” he urged, his voice husky.

She parted her mouth further, and when he pressed the berry between his lips, she gasped at the brief touch of his skin to her tongue. It was an effort to swallow. But he was back soon enough with another berry. “It’s my job now,” he said. “To make sure you are fed and content.”

She smiled this time as she let him feed her. And when her tongue touched his thumb, she didn’t jerk away. Twice more he fed her, and then his gaze dipped to her lips. “How are they?”

She didn’t exactly mean to moan, but there was something intoxicating about the intimacy. For a girl who was rarely touched in anything other than anger, his gentleness was…well, delicious.

He leaned in closer, his gaze dipping to her lips. “May I have a taste?”

Her breath caught, and something odd happened between her thighs. Heat was building, uncomfortable and embarrassing. “Y-yes.”

He did exactly as he’d said. He tasted her. He caught her lower lip between his and sucked gently.

She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Was this…

Was this kissing?

He tipped his head slightly, until he was gliding his lips over the corner of her mouth. Then his tongue flicked out and he tasted her upper lip. Her eyelids fluttered closed at the sweet assault. Her breath was shaky.

“You taste delicious,” he murmured when he moved his mouth to her ear. His breath there made her shiver. But she wasn’t cold.

Oh no, she wasn’t the least bit cold. If anything, she felt as though she’d caught fire. Her veins seemed to sing with this newfound pleasure, and that heat between her thighs had turned to a throbbing ache.

“Let me take care of you upstairs,” he said, reaching for her hand. “Let me show you pleasure.”

She went with him willingly. For a little while, she even forgot to be nervous. He wanted to bed her. She understood this. But it didn’t feel so terrifying when her heart was fluttering so wildly and his every touch was so gentle and warm.

He led her into her room. The room she’d been shown to only earlier today. Her new lady’s maid had already unpacked her few belongings, and she hadn’t dallied long. Once again, the sight of the opulence threw her.

She stopped short just inside the door, and her hand fell from his as he continued inside.

He turned with an expression of concern. “Are you all right?”

“Yes, just…” She swallowed hard. The room was well lit, with a fire roaring in the fireplace and wine set out on an end table. “It’s all just so new.”

“Of course.” He sounded serious. “I should have realized.”

He went to her and ran his hands over her shoulders, her arms. “This all must be quite the transition.”

She nodded. It was. It most definitely was.

“You’ve been very brave throughout all of this, Madeline.” He leaned forward and kissed her nose, and the innocent gesture made her smile despite her nerves. “I am in awe of your courage.”

She blinked, searching his gaze to see if he was mocking her in some way.

He was not.

“I am not brave,” she said. “I wish I were.”

I might have been. If I’d run away. But instead, you came along and saved me.

“You are.” He was gripping her shoulders, his gaze intense. “You have survived the wicked cruelty of others. Being a survivor is courageous, Madeline.”

Something in his intensity. Something about the way he said it…

He understood. Maybe not all of it, but he understood.

His thumb brushed over her cheek. “Did they hurt you, love?”

She blinked up at him. Did they hurt her? Her family? Her lips parted, and for a moment she did not know how to answer. “They did not beat me, if that is what you mean.”

They had treated her horribly, but the abuse was not physical. She winced at the memory of her stepmother’s cold, hard slaps. Not usually, at least.

Her heart felt heavy in her chest, and for the first time in the week since she’d escaped that tower, she felt an urge to talk. To tell this man every hurt done to her and every injustice.

“You survived,” he continued. “But you don’t have to merely survive anymore, Madeline. You are my wife now. You are a marchioness. You have power and wealth and influence?—”

She made a choking sound of disbelief, and he stopped with a smile.

“Well. Maybe I cannot make you see that today. Your new life has only just begun. But this is the start, Madeline. Today we start anew. Both of us.”

She searched his gaze. He was trying to tell her something. “You wish to start anew as well?”

His smile suddenly struck her as tired and weary. “You’ll likely hear stories about me when we make your debut in society. So, you ought to hear it from me first, I suppose.”

She tensed.

“I’ve been a bit of a wastrel these last, oh…ten years or so.” His huff of amusement was rueful.

“How?” she asked.

“I have a well-earned reputation for drinking and gambling, and…” He winced. “Reckless acts.”

She couldn’t stifle a giggle. “Do you mean, for example…climbing up crumbling old tower walls?”

He grinned. “That’s one example, yes.”

“Is there anything else…” She wet her lips. “Anything I should know about?”

His brows drew down in confusion.

She swallowed thickly. “I, er, I know what it is to be the illegitimate child of a —”

“No! Oh Christ, no,” he said quickly, clearly horrified by the question.

“Sorry, it’s just?—”

“No, no,” he added hurriedly. “You have every right to ask. But the answer is no. I have no children outside of marriage. And I’ve never been married before so…no. None.”

She nodded. “All right.”

He smiled. “All right.”

The sudden silence terrified her. She forgot to be nervous when he was talking to her and making her laugh. But moments like these, when she realized she had no idea what to say, what to do…

Her eyes widened.

He tugged her forward so she was in his arms. “It’s all right, love,” he whispered against her ear. “I promised you pleasure, and pleasure you shall have.”

She shivered even though she wasn’t quite sure what to expect.

But then he was dipping his head, his lips moving gently over the skin of her neck. Her gasp sounded far too loud as a blistering heat swept through her from head to toe.

“That’s it,” he murmured. “That’s my good girl.”

Her next shiver left her trembling. My good girl . The words ought to make her feel like a child, but they didn’t. She just felt…safe. And cared for.

Like she truly was his, and that he would take care of her.

She wondered if he had any idea how wonderful that felt. Better than any physical pleasures ever could.

Her hands fumbled for a bit before she rested them on his shoulders. He stiffened for a second before exhaling loudly. “That’s it, love. Touch me anywhere you please.”

She kept her hands precisely where they were. Where else did he expect her to touch him?

His hands were roaming. Not aggressive and not so firm as to be painful, but his hands were on her waist and then moving up.

She gasped when they brushed against the underside of her breasts.

His mouth moved to her lips, stealing the gasps as his hands continued the exploration, over her back and up to the exposed skin of her shoulders.

“I want to touch you everywhere,” he murmured. “I want to kiss you all over.”

She tensed. She squeezed her eyes shut, but it was too late. Images assaulted her. Their faces, their smirks, the dark dangerous lust in their eyes.

Go on. Show us what she’s got.

That was what the man with the oily beard had said.

I wouldn’t buy a horse without checking its teeth, now would I?

The others had laughed.

Foley had laughed.

The countess had smiled.

Now fingers were tugging at her bodice, seeking out more skin?—

“No!” Her voice was shrill and loud.

“Madeline?” Hayden brought his hands up to cup her face. “What is it? Am I moving too quickly?”

She kept her eyes shut, and he muttered an oath.

“Of course I am.”

She felt a blast of cold air when he stepped away from her, letting her go. And all at once, she was freezing, inside and out. Adrift and at sea and— “No. Don’t go,” she said, opening her eyes wide in panic.

His gaze was so beautifully tender. “Madeline…love. I don’t want to scare you.”

“I cannot help that I’m scared. But I…I don’t want you to go.”

His lips rolled inward as his brows drew down in thought. A muscle ticked in his jaw as he said gently, “Did your father or your brother…” He cut himself off with an oath. “Did any man in your household ever…touch you.”

She blinked in confusion as her mind turned over his words, but her gut coiled in horror as the memory of that night began to play all over again.

Touch her like that, he meant. Had they ever touched her…like that.

He cleared his throat and tried again. “Did anyone ever force you to?—“

“No.” Her voice was too loud and sharp and for a moment she shut her eyes, blocking out the memory. She did not wish to acknowledge it, let alone speak of it. “No man has ever touched me like…like you were just touching me.”

She opened her eyes to meet his gaze. It was not a lie, she told herself. No man had ever touched her with such care.

Still, guilt pooled in her belly when she saw the relief in his eyes. It hadn’t been a lie…

But it hadn’t been the truth either.

The space between them seemed to widen with each passing second, and finally she reached for him, her hands fluttering nervously against his chest. “Don’t leave me.”

His expression grew so tender, it made her heart ache. And after a long silence, he nodded, seemingly decided. “You’re wary of undressing before me, is that it? You’re…shy?”

She nodded. That was part of it.

“I will go to my rooms,” he said. “I’ll have the maid come and get you changed into more suitable nighttime attire.”

Relief was fierce, but on its heels came fears of being abandoned. “But you will…you will come back?”

“Oh love, it’s our wedding night,” he said with a rueful smile. “I will most definitely be back.”

She nodded, her breath too shaky to say much at all.

He left, presumably to call for her lady’s maid, and she slumped against the bed, trying to make sense of all that had happened.

She was married.

To a marquess.

She shook her head. How she wished she could talk to Albert. He’d know if she’d been right to leave with Hayden. He’d know if she was putting her trust and faith in the right hands.

She thought so, but…

But what did she know of the world? Of men?

Blessedly little.

She drew out the letter that the physician had drafted for her. It was slightly crumpled. She’d had it in the slim pocket of her gown all day, even during her own wedding. Which seemed a little sacrilegious in an odd sort of way. Making a vow before God while her means of escape sat heavily in her pocket.

She wasn’t even sure it would work if it came to that.

It would be something, though. It would be better than being stuck again with no way out.

But for now…

She tucked it into the top drawer of her writing desk. For now, she would hold on to it.

Just in case she was trusting the wrong man.