Page 33 of The Viscount Needs a Wife (All for Love #2)

A nnis’s next test was a ball held by the duchess to present her sister, Miss Deborah Watson, to the ton .

Emrys knew this was going to be difficult for her, and he went to some lengths to make sure his own appearance did her credit.

For the first time in his life, he was paying attention to how he looked.

Not because he cared for himself, but because he wanted her to feel as confident as possible in her new role, and having him look a shabrag wouldn’t help.

He’d taken to sparring with the duke at Gentleman Jackson’s, too.

He’d decided he preferred to keep off the extra pounds he had shed in the wake of Caro’s perfidy and death.

He knew he had a disastrous tendency to gain weight—he liked his food—so it behooved him to do some more exercise to keep it off.

Technically, he should still be in mourning and not attending balls at all, let alone with a new wife on his arm.

He was a walking scandal after Caro’s disaster, but the weight of public opinion was on his side, and he hoped that would be extended to Annis.

He wouldn’t dance, which was a shame, because he liked dancing, and he’d very much like to dance with Annis.

He’d been giving her lessons round the drawing room at home, for she’d never danced in her life in public, although she knew the rudiments of the steps.

There was inevitably some gossip and some ill-meaning comments that he hoped fervently did not come to Annis’s ears, for they would wound her terribly.

The weight of the duke and duchess’s approval counted for a lot and quashed much of the incipient scandal.

But there were still a few who muttered that Annis was no better than she ought to be and had snared the viscount when he was most vulnerable.

“A governess, you know, no family to speak of—a nobody. Appalling, but she is received everywhere, for the Duke of Troubridge approves her, so there is nothing more to be said, really. He and Ashford have been thick as thieves since Cambridge.”

Annis was to wear another delicious gown for the ball, green satin with something gauzy over it.

A more sophisticated version of the one she wore to dinner with him the first night after her shopping expedition.

He’d even had the foresight to ask Sarah what color her gown was, so he could get her something to wear with it.

She had no jewels of her own except her father’s ring, which he had stashed in the safe, and her sinful little seed pearl brooch, which still brought him undone when she wore it.

So, he had ordered a teardrop-shaped emerald pendant set in gold with a gold chain just the right length to have the emerald nestle into the top of her cleavage.

She began to cry, of course, when he gave it to her and stared at it, nestled in its white velvet box, with her hand over her mouth. “Oh, Emrys, it’s beautiful.”

“I’m glad you like it. Sarah assures me it will go with your gown for her ball.”

“Yes. Yes, it will.” She sniffed and wiped her eyes. “Thank you. You are by far too good to me.”

“I am not,” he said roughly and put an arm round her. She put hers round his neck, holding the box in one hand, and kissed him.

“Let’s see what it looks like on, shall we?”

She nodded, and he took the pendant out of the box. When she turned, he set it round her neck and fastened it. Looking down from above he saw that it sat perfectly just where he liked it most. He slid his arms round her and kissed her neck, rumbling, “Perfect!”

His hands slid up to squeeze her breasts in her day gown, pushing them up and dropping the emerald deeper into her cleavage. “When you wear it with your ball gown, it’s going to drive me to madness all night, you know.”

She relaxed back against him with a sigh as he continued to massage her breasts. She lifted her chin as he nuzzled kisses into her neck and pressed his rapidly hardening cock against her rump. She rubbed against him suggestively, and he growled in her ear.

“Keep that up, and I’ll want to fuck you, right here, right now.” She glanced up at him, and he groaned, “Annis!” He kissed her hard and deep, pressing her back against him with a firm arm across her middle.

His hand moved down her front to cup her through her gown and press his fingers just where he knew she wanted them.

“Emrys!” she said, breathless.

“Just a moment, I’ll lock the door,” he said and crossed the room to shut the door and turn the key. He came back to her and pulled her back against him, renewing his assault with his fingers on the place between her legs.

“You’ll ruin my gown,” she protested, whimpering.

“Bend over the damned table!” he said, his voice gone gravelly with need. He couldn’t fathom how much he wanted this woman. Repeatedly.

She bent forward over the small round table, her hands clutching the far edge as he lifted her skirts and nudged her legs apart a bit.

He took in the view for a moment before he dropped to his knees and leaned forward to set his mouth on her exposed peach, his tongue circling and plundering her entrance.

She whimpered and moaned, pushing back on him, and he reached down to undo his falls where his cock was being strangled by the fabric of his breeches.

He brought his hand up between her legs to fondle and stroke her clitoris, making her jump and moan louder.

Her flesh clenched under his mouth, and he groaned into her.

His other hand distractedly stroked and squeezed his cock to assuage its throbbing ache.

“Please, Emrys!” she begged.

Rising he brought his cock level with her entrance and thrust firmly forward and sank to the hilt with a groan.

“This will be quick and hard!” he warned.

“Please!” She pushed back on him, and he grabbed her hips and jolted her and the table with the fierceness of his thrusts.

Hot, hard, quick! He leaned forward over her back and kissed the nape of her neck with an open-mouthed kiss that scraped her flesh with his teeth and bathed it with his tongue, reaching around to stroke her rapidly where she needed it.

His other hand went to her shoulder, holding her steady as he pummeled her.

Fuck, yes!

She cried out, her legs trembling and her body convulsing round him. The sensation ignited his own orgasm, and he came hard, her name a loud groan disintegrating into grunts as he expelled his seed and slumped forward on her back in a knee-trembling heap.

“Fuck!” he muttered breathlessly against her neck. She slumped under him against the table and sighed.

“Oh, yes . . .”

“I’ll have to give you jewelry more often if that is my reward,” he rumbled in her ear.

She laughed and tried to clench on him as he slipped out of her.

She stood up slowly, her gown falling back into place. She put up her hands to her hair. “Have you ruined me?” she asked, turning to face him.

“No,” he said, cupping her face and kissing her nose.

“You look flushed and sated, very appealing.” He did up his buttons and went to unlock the door.

It was to be hoped that the servants hadn’t heard them, but he rather suspected they might have.

They hadn’t exactly been quiet. But damn it, if I want to fuck my own wife in my own drawing room, in the middle of the afternoon, I bloody well will.

*

The ball was a success for the duchess by all standards set for such things, and Deborah and Lady Ava did not lack partners.

For Annis, though, it was a trial of sorts.

Emrys was attentive. He had gone to the effort of purchasing a new set of evening wear, all black of course, and his attempts to look kempt for her sake touched her.

All the same, she rather liked him rumpled and slightly scruffy.

This new, more polished Emrys was a trifle too handsome.

What if he starts attracting the attention of other ladies?

Can I compete? Her old insecurities gnawed at her.

She tried to push them away. Emrys was the faithful sort.

She didn’t need to worry about him straying.

At least not yet. He was as hot for her as ever, as this afternoon’s little encounter in the drawing room amply demonstrated.

His cronies teased him about his new look, in particular Lord Ravenshaw, who was, as usual, impeccably dressed and extraordinarily handsome.

To think of her, little Annis Pringle, mixing with dukes and marquesses!

She quailed when she thought about what they would all say if they knew the truth about her.

She had never truly discussed the actual status of her birth with Emrys.

She wondered if he had guessed. It was implied, after all, in the fact that she had her father’s ring and that someone wanted her dead because of it.

But he had never taxed her with it, and she was too afraid to raise it with him now that they were married.

If her baseborn status came to light, it would cause yet another scandal for the poor man to bear, and she would hate to be the cause of that.

For not even a duke’s imprimatur could overcome such a stain.

When he left her with the ladies and disappeared into the card room with his friends, Lords Ravenshaw and Pendrell, she tried very hard not to mind.

After all, he couldn’t dance, as he had explained to her, so what was the poor man to do, prop the wall all night?

But she couldn’t help feeling exposed not to have him at her side.

They had been virtually inseparable since their wedding, usually spending a significant portion of each day in each other’s company and all night wrapped up in each other’s arms. The viscount was still sleeping wrapped round her like a limpet.

She had grown used to it. If he stopped, she would miss it.