The Flighty Fiancee (6 page)

The image of her lying resplendent on his bed at
Grasswood Park hit him and he growled again. Imagining tasting her
wetness, licking up everything she had to offer. He was so aroused,
more so than he’d been in months. It was the kiss of course. He’d
finally taken her lips and they were as sweet as he’d always
suspected they’d be. And that rounded cheeks. He swallowed, dropped
the brandy glass on the side table and palmed his cock. Those
buttocks were as plump and rounded as he’d imagined. Visions of
driving between her cheeks assailed him and he released his
erection, wrapping his long fingers around its length.

He was hard and hot, his cock head reddened with
desire, aching to bury itself in her. Teeth gritted he pumped
himself up and down, head spinning against the images dancing in
his mind. India, naked beneath him, begging him to take her.
India’s nipples on his tongue, hardening when he licked them.
India, legs open and ready for him.

She’d be tight and wet, he knew she would, and he
pumped harder, imagining burying himself in her glistening
folds.

He hadn’t lied when he’d told her he’d leave her
trembling. He pumped harder, his balls begging for release, urging
him on. He’d do everything she’d allow and more besides. He thought
of her cheeks again. Of rubbing a thumb along her puckered hole,
maybe even dipping that thumb in. She’d be shocked, might not even
allow it, and his heart raced at the thought of making her
submit.

He could spank her every time she denied him he
decided. A thumb in, a ‘no’ from her and then one hard spank. She’d
screech and moan but he’d make her comply. Her juices would drip
over his fingers, allowing him to lubricate her there, and
then….

Heat travelled up his length and he felt his seed
begin to build. The climax approached but he knew it wouldn’t be
enough. Nothing would be until he plunged himself into her.

He’d put the thumb back in, rubbing the entrance
until she opened up and then before she could begin to guess his
intentions he’d slip his prick into her waiting ass. She’d be so
tight, too tight maybe? So he’d reach down and take her clit
between his fingers. He’d tug it and tease it whilst he pumped
himself in and out of her little asshole. She’d scream in pleasure
now, mixed in with a little bit of pain—exactly the sort of mix a
woman like India needed.

He pumped his cock harder, pleasure racing up his
thighs, centering on his cockhead. When the orgasm came he let it
our in a guttural moan, spilling his hot cum over his breeches, his
hand, everywhere. Shudders ran through him and he moaned,
“India…India….”

It should have been her hand pumping an orgasm from
him.
Soon it would be,
he vowed. Lady India would take him
in hand and do this for him. He’d teach her how to pleasure him.
How to lick and tease and arouse him.

He would go to her in the morning, take her to his
estate, and once there.... Bartholomew would ensure that Lady India
knew no other man but him.
For the rest of her life.

Chapter Seven

India tiptoed to the door of her father’s study and
pressed her ear against the crack where the door wasn’t quite shut.
Bartholomew had arrived mere minutes ago and India was damned if
she’d let them make plans without her knowledge. After all, she’d
been making her own plans and she’d need as much information as
possible in order to put them in place.

“A week you say?” she heard Lord Grayson ask.

“I’ve procured a special license,” Bartholomew
answered. “With your agreement we will be married in the family
chapel on Sunday.”

Sunday? India gasped. So he’d meant what he said.
We’ll be married by the end of the week.
Why did that
thought cause a strange excitement to fill her? Especially
considering the fact she had no intention of allowing it?
Damn
him
.

“Well it is about time!” her father agreed. “I
thought it was nonsense leaving India to run wild for so long. You
should have taken her in hand at the beginning of the year,
Bartholomew. I would have myself, but it didn’t seem appropriate
once you were betrothed.”

India clenched her fists. ‘Run wild’, that was
hardly the case. She wasn’t in hoyden territory yet. And besides
her father had spoilt and pampered her for more years than she
could count. The idea of him doing anything beyond a stern glare
was laughable. Her marriage to Bartholomew was the first thing he’d
ever insisted on.

Lining her eye up to the crack in the door India was
confronted with Bartholomew’s muscular physique. A strange quiver
assailed her body and she clenched the door frame to steady
herself. The image of him that filled her when she rubbed her most
intimate parts returned and she felt a blush spread through her
body. What would Bartholomew think if he knew what she’d done a few
hours ago? Would he brand her a wanton or would it please him? She
had no way to know.

Bartholomew nodded. “I see that now, sir.”

Oh did he indeed?

“There is no way I can come down with you today
though, my boy,” Lord Grayson added. “I’ve matters to wrap up here
in London, there’s an important meeting at the Royal Academy.
Sunday will be difficult enough.”

Bartholomew smiled, as if he’d suspected as much.
“That is not a problem, Lord Grayson. I will take Lady India down
with me today. Introduce her to the estate, ensure she has time to
get comfortable.”

Lord Grayson nodded his approval. “An excellent
idea. We spent so long travelling I warrant India barely remembers
Grasswood Park. She’s spent so little time on our own estate, and
none on yours.”

That was not true. Though India had left England at
just seven years old, mere weeks after the death of her beloved
mother, she remembered both estates perfectly.

“It’s time that was remedied, sir.”

“I agree. India can take her maid as chaperone.
You’ve been betrothed long enough for us to dispense with any other
formalities. India will, no doubt, be perfectly safe with a man of
your honor.”

Bartholomew nodded and India’s eyes narrowed.
Clearly he hadn’t expected Lord Grayson to put up any difficulties,
however she was slightly shocked that her father was so willing to
send her off alone. Lord Grayson was more desperate to see her
settled than she thought, and trusted Bartholomew to act as a
gentleman would.

A day ago India would have too.
A day ago he’d
never kissed you senseless.

“Perhaps you’d be so good as to ask India to join
us, sir?” Bartholomew asked. “I’m eager to see my betrothed.”

Fuming and excited all at once, India pushed the
door open to its widest arc. Hands on her hips she faced the men
who were so intent on settling her life for her. “Father. Lord
Bartholomew.”

Lord Grayson smiled in genuine pleasure and stepped
forward to grasp his daughter’s hands. “You look beautiful today,
my dear.” He turned to Bartholomew. “Don’t you agree?”

Bartholomew leaned back against the desk and smiled
languidly. “She always does.”

India glared at him. “I couldn’t help but hear your
conversation as I passed by on my way to complete my floral
arrangement.”

Did Bartholomew just snort?

Lord Grayson beamed. “Bartholomew has
suggested—”

“I discussed this with Lady India at the ball,” her
devious fiancé interrupted. “Forgive me for anticipating you, sir.
I can only attest to my eagerness to move matters apace, and Lady
India was in full accord.”

“Well then!” Lord Grayson beamed.

“Full accord?” India hissed.

Bartholomew abandoned his relaxed pose by the desk,
stalked forward—yes stalked—and smiled down at India. “Yes, India.
Full accord.”

The warning in his voice sent shivers racing through
India’s body and she felt a blush travel across her skin. Looking
up into his amber eyes she shivered again at what she could see
within them.
Lady India is mine....

“How long do you need to pack, my dear?” Lord
Grayson asked.

“I—” Looking away from Bartholomew India found
herself at a loss for words. Refusing to go would do nothing but
upset her father, and Bartholomew would find some way to make her
go anyway. She was beginning to suspect that Bartholomew was quite
used to getting his own way. But then wasn’t this almost what she
wanted? Hadn’t she made her own plans, and they involved being
alone with Bartholomew didn’t they?

She rubbed the spot on her head that had been aching
since the moment she’d awoken. Or maybe just from the time when
she’d decided on her course of action. Bartholomew wanted her, and
she wanted him. No, more than that—she was desperate for him.
Something had to be done to ease the ache, it was driving her mad,
and after the feel of Bartholomew’s erection prodding her belly,
was enough for her to make up her mind.

He’d kept her dangling for too long. Well, no more.
Marriage he might be set on but India was set on one thing and one
thing only. She was going to have him and then she was going to
leave him dangling for marriage just as he’d left her dangling for
satisfaction.

Time to turn the tables.

“If we leave within the hour we can make Grasswood
Park by mid afternoon,” Bartholomew prompted.

India cursed the day their ancestors had chosen
estates so close to the capital. “I’m not sure it’s appropriate for
me to stay at Grasswood Park,” she said on a sudden spark of
inspiration, because fending him off from marriage would not be
easy if they were residing in the same house. “Perhaps I should
stay on Papa’s estate and we can—”

“You can hardly be compromised, India,” Bartholomew
drawled. The meaning of his words was clear only to her—he’d
thoroughly compromised her the evening before. “After all,” he
added, “we are betrothed and will be married by the week’s
end.”

“Bartholomew’s quite right,” Lord Grayson agreed.
“Take Anjika with you for company. An hour should be sufficient.
You’ve packed in shorter time than that when abroad! I remember
that time we had to hot foot it out of Balajai when the monsoons
hit.”

“But—”

“Or when the Raj—”

“Come along, Lady India, no time to waste,”
Bartholomew said, interrupting Lord Grayson’s reminiscing and
steering her towards the door. The feel of his hand on her elbow
caused her breath to hitch, and she felt her nipples begin to
harden again from his proximity.

More to disguise that fact that anything else, India
cast him a withering sort of look and he, villain that he was,
smiled. A wicked curve of his lips that promised all sorts of
things, and India—damn it—found herself shivering in response.

Shiver all you want
, she told herself,
soon you’ll be shivering a whole lot more.
Because she was
going to have those things she resolved. He was going to make the
throbbing go away because it was all his fault! He owed her that at
least. And then he could go to the devil for all she cared.

Marriage or seduction. It was one or both, or none
at all. She knew what she wanted, and what he did. Lord Bartholomew
was determined to get his own way. She was resolved on hers, who
would prevail?

Chapter Eight

Bartholomew paced back and forth next to the fire.
The heat alternatively scorching and cooling his legs. The clock
ticked upwards to the hour and with each passing second he grew
tenser. Lady India was nowhere to be seen. After arriving at
Grasswood Park she and her exotic maid had cast him a venomous sort
of look, and then gone off God knew where.

Giddings, his butler, ensured him that she would be
down for dinner, but that was a half hour ago, and Bartholomew
could count on nothing where his flighty fiancée was concerned. It
was just as likely that she’d packed her bags and fled to Cheetham
Hall, her own residence.

“Damn it, India,” he hissed to the flames.

“My Lord?”

He turned to see Giddings directing the servants to
move around some of the silver wear. They’d set far too many places
and Bartholomew wondered what they were about.

“You know it is just Lady India and myself for
dinner?” he asked.

Giddings cast him a disapproving sort of look. “We
want to ensure Lady India sees the room in its full glory,” he
said. “It is not appropriate to serve dinner in the library when
you wife to be is in residence, my Lord.”

Bartholomew raised an eyebrow but said nothing
whilst the servants scurried around. No doubt they were trying to
impress their new mistress. If she ever bothered showing up.

“Just for tonight then, we certainly don’t need this
fanfare all week.”

“Of course, my Lord.”

Bartholomew was not fooled by Giddings tone and
resolved to have another word with him at some point tomorrow.
Right now he simply desired his fiancée to actually show up.

The butler made to station the servants around the
room but Bartholomew shook his head. “We’ll serve ourselves.”

Giddings blanched. “But, my Lord...on Lady India’s
first dinner...surely?”

“My Lady and I would prefer time alone,” Bartholomew
insisted. “It is her first meal at Grasswood Park, as you say. We
do not want to overwhelm her.”

The butler nodded though Bartholomew could tell the
older man thought his explanation thin a best. Yes it was all a bit
havey cavey, he knew that. After all, many of his servants would
remember India from when she was a girl and no one could ever
suggest anything could overwhelm her. He knew too that the servants
would gossip about it but he was determined to have India to
himself. They had unfinished business after all.

“Best to put your efforts into the wedding feast,”
Bartholomew continued. “I imagine we’ll have quite a crowd from the
capital.”

Giddings brightened and nodded. “Yes, my Lord, we
have an awful lot to do. Rooms to get ready, menus to plan….”