To Protect An Heiress (Zebra Historical Romance) (16 page)

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Authors: Adrienne Basso

BOOK: To Protect An Heiress (Zebra Historical Romance)
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A sunny, though quivering smile, broadened the housekeeper’s face. “Her ladyship’s maid is down in the servant’s quarters having a spot of tea. I’ll send her up, along with two of the housemaids, to unpack your clothes. Do you require anything else?”
“I cannot think of anything, but I have no doubt you shall efficiently provide whatever I deem necessary,” Meredith said.
The words and tone smoothed over the awkward moment. Mrs. Pritcher bobbed up and down twice, then exited the room, this time wearing a genuine smile.
“Are the accommodations to your liking?” Trevor asked.
“They are splendid.” Meredith strolled casually about the perimeter, then froze in the act of reaching for one of the porcelain figurines that graced the marble fireplace mantel. “Are these the same rooms you shared with Lavinia?” she asked in a troubled tone.
“That was our original plan,” Trevor said carefully. “However, when in town we lived in a house on Berkeley Square I purchased shortly before we wed. These rooms were being made ready for us when she died.”
“I remember your home in Berkeley. Lavinia called it her haven from the bustle and noise of the city. What ever happened to it?”
Trevor gave an uncomfortable shrug. He had not thought about that charming home for many, many years. “I sold the property the week after Lavinia died. It was impossible for me to cross the threshold without her.”
Meredith pressed her lips together. “If it troubles you, I am sure we can stay in a different section of your father’s house. I would be happy to make the arrangements with Mrs. Pritcher, if you prefer not to be bothered.”
She was trying to make this easier for him, and for some strange reason that angered the marquess. This was not supposed to be easy. “Lavinia was my wife. We cannot erase all memory of her existence now that you are in her position.”
Meredith gave a deep sigh. “She was my dearest friend, my lord. I loved her, too. I would never want either of us to forget her.”
The silence in the wake of those gently spoken words was thick and heavy. He saw how pale Meredith’s face had become, how the emotions she was feeling turned her beautiful eyes into bottomless pools. He was struck suddenly with the urge to reach for her, to hold her in his arms, to accept and give the comfort they both seemed to need so desperately.
Yet he could not. Ignoring the stabbing of his heart, Trevor willed himself to remain impassive. He had married Meredith to avoid a scandal, to set to rights the part he had played in her fall from grace. It would benefit neither of them to let these raw emotions cloud their relationship.
Trevor reached for the door that led to his chambers, but experienced a moment of acute discomfort. The expression on her lovely face haunted him. “I shall call for you in two hours, so we may go downstairs together.”
“I will be ready.”
Keeping his back to her he added, “I have no doubt you will charm and dazzle them all tonight.”
Trevor heard her sigh softly. “Including the duke?”
“Especially the duke.”
The rustle of silk alerted the marquess that she had come closer, but he still refused to turn around and face her. He waited with both dread and anticipation for her hand to fall upon his shoulder, but she resisted touching him.
“And what of the duke’s brooding, wild, hedonistic son?”
Bloody hell, she is relentless
. Trevor clenched his teeth. “The marquess would never have taken a bride who was not worthy of his regard.”
This time he did not hesitate, but turned the knob and fled to the sanctuary of his rooms.
 
 
The duke’s party was hardly the small, intimate gathering Meredith had expected. Though she had spent most of her life among the aristocracy, she had forgotten that dukes did most things on a grander scale than other peers. There were forty-nine guests for dinner. The inclusion of the marquess and his new bride brought the number of people seated around the table to fifty-two.
At the start of the meal, the duke stood and made an appropriate though not overly enthusiastic toast to the health and happiness of the bride and groom. Given his attitude toward her and his initial reaction to the marriage, Meredith felt it was more than adequate.
This announcement was met with flurries of whispers and glances of speculation, but no one dared to make even an insinuation of an insult while in the ducal residence.
As the only female relation, Meredith was seated to the duke’s left. There was a brief moment of awkward tension when she was introduced to Lady Anne Smithe, the attractive woman seated on the duke’s right. Meredith quickly deduced this woman was the true reason for the party that evening, for she was the one handpicked by the duke to marry Trevor.
Lady Anne was a slightly built woman in her late twenties with pleasant features, lovely dark hair, and a full, lush figure. As much as she hated to admit it, Meredith was curious about this woman the duke had selected. While the formally garbed footmen, dressed in their silver livery and powdered wigs, served course after course of rich, elaborately prepared food, Meredith observed her rival.
Lady Anne had a quick wit, a keen mind, and an ease of social graces any woman would envy, including Meredith. She graciously included all those around her in every conversation and encouraged lively, appropriate debate.
Yet the true test of her character came when a footman, in the act of refilling her wine goblet, upset the glass.
“Fool!” the duke yelled, startling the servant further. “How dare such a clumsy imbecile serve at my table? You are sloshing wine all over Lady Anne!”
The young man glanced down with beseeching eyes and made a fateful grab for the crystal goblet. The duke’s outburst had attracted the attention of many of the guests and they all turned to stare in fascinated horror as the red nectar spilled over the tumbling goblet, staining the stark white linen of the tablecloth and soaking Lady Anne’s fingers.
“My apologizes, my lady,” the servant stammered, as he hastily tried to wipe away the evidence of his mistake.
“There is no cause for alarm,” Lady Anne said in a mild tone. “The wine barely touched me. I commend you, young man, for catching that goblet so quickly. If not, I might have ended up with a lap filled with wine. Would that not have been a sight to behold, Your Grace?”
It seemed as though the entire dining room held its collective breath as they waited for the duke to react. The older man muttered something under his breath about hiring more competent servants. “He’s not fit to serve in my household if he can’t pour a simple goblet of wine without making a mess of it,” the duke said.
“Nonsense, Your Grace,” Lady Anne interjected. “I have already said no harm was done. May I have some more wine, please?”
Meredith saw Lady Anne give the footman an encouraging nod as she held out her glass. His sagging shoulders straightened and he filled her goblet without spilling a drop.
The move succeeded in diverting the duke’s attention to other matters, and he was soon engaged in conversation again. As the footman retreated respectfully behind Lady Anne’s chair, Meredith thought she heard him whisper, “Thank you, my lady.”
The rest of the meal concluded without incident. When it was time for the ladies to withdraw so the men could indulge in port and cigars, Meredith conceded that her new father-in-law had excellent taste in women. Lady Anne would have been a good match for the wayward marquess.
Once in the drawing room, the women separated into groups. Tea was brought in and served to those who desired a cup, cozy clusters of friends settled into smaller circles to visit and gossip, and others congregated around the pianoforte. Discussion among the mothers as to which of their young, eligible daughters would play and sing first became a heated debate that soon threatened to become uncivilized.
Meredith, in the process of supervising the tea service on the other side of the room, tried to hurry across the room to intervene, but Lady Anne arrived first. She diplomatically managed to sooth all the ruffled feathers and organize an order of performance that was agreeable to everyone.
“She is rather a marvel, our Lady Anne,” a deep male voice whispered in her ear.
Meredith shivered. She need not turn around to identify the speaker. It was now easy and quick for her to distinguish Trevor’s voice among all other men’s.
“Lady Anne is a virtual paragon,” Meredith intoned, trying hard to fight the jealousy she felt, for she truly liked the woman. “You would have done well to heed your father’s advice and consider making a match with her.”
“ ’Tis not necessary for my father to chose my women,” Trevor said. She felt his hand close around her elbow.
Meredith turned and angled her head to look up at him. The marquess gave her a wicked half grin. For some bizarre reason, the force of that gaze made her press her knees tightly together in a combination of fear and anticipation.
The words he had spoken to the duke earlier in such a cavalier manner echoed through her head:
This is our wedding night.
“There are several young ladies who are eager to showcase their musical skills,” Meredith said. She licked away the dryness of her lips. “I imagine the entertainment will continue well into the night.”
“We certainly cannot be expected to stay,” Trevor said gruffly. He backed her against the wall and swiveled so he stood with his body nearly touching hers. A heavy, sweet ache formed inside Meredith. She strained toward him, wanting desperately to mold herself against his large muscular form.
“It will cause a great deal of commotion if we leave now.” Her breasts rose as she breathed in deeply.
“Then we must be very clever and slip away without being noticed.” He spoke quietly, his warm breath caressing her face.
“How?”
His eyes deepened to a stormy blue. “Do you think you can find your way to the third floor landing of the main staircase?”
Though it was difficult to concentrate with these feelings of shimmering tension between them, Meredith forced her mind to recall the layout of the mansion. “Yes, I believe I know how to find it.”
“Good. I want you to exit the room in five minutes. I shall follow after another five have passed. There is a portrait gallery on the west wing of the third floor. Wait for me there.”
She held his gaze for an instant. Then she nodded her head unsteadily. Once he had her agreement, the marquess turned and walked away. His abrupt departure deflated her, but she kept her features bland, in case they were being observed.
Meredith dared not move from her secluded location against the wall, fearing to be drawn into a conversation that might delay her departure. She forced herself to wait five minutes and then an extra minute for good measure before discreetly slipping out the door.
Grinning like a giddy schoolgirl, she scurried down the hall, around the corner and up the main staircase. Though there were many servants positioned in various locations along her route, no one questioned her. Her heart thundering with nerves and excitement, Meredith proceeded to the third floor to meet her fate.
Ten
In the luxurious gold, blue, and ivory bedchamber, Rose helped Meredith prepare for bed. She was glad the young maid had accompanied her, for Rose’s friendly face and usual chatter helped calm Meredith’s nerves.
The servant provided a much needed connection to her past, and that was a comfort to Meredith as she prepared to move toward her future. Tonight she was going to start to make a new life for herself, to assume a role she never honestly thought she would achieve: wife.
Trevor had been moodily silent on the walk to their rooms earlier, and Meredith was at a loss to understand why. She had hoped for a kiss when they met on the third floor gallery, conspirators sharing the victory of their escape. But the marquess had only nodded his head in greeting when he found her waiting exactly where he requested and had moved quickly forward.
Thankfully she was tall and long legged, or she would have been forced to run to keep pace with him. That would have almost been too humiliating to bear, for she got the distinct feeling he wasn’t hurrying to get to their bedchamber, but rather hurrying to get away from her.
Gone was the look of potent sensuality he seemed to delight in bestowing upon her, replaced by an impassive look that grew distant and tense with each step they took.
Something seemed to happen to Trevor as they walked down that long corridor, and it disturbed Meredith greatly, for she felt incapable of reversing the coldness that had come upon him. He had left her alone to prepare for bed, as any considerate husband would do for his bride, yet it had not felt like consideration. It had felt like abandonment.
Meredith shook her head at her fancy wonderings. Her nerves must be making her melancholy and overly dramatic. It was far too soon to worry if Trevor would ever reciprocate her feelings. If she continued with these gloomy thoughts, she would never be able to survive the night to come. What could be more depressing than facing a bleak, loveless future?
Meredith forced her mind to change directions. This was her wedding night! It was hardly necessary for Trevor to lose his head over her. His kisses and caresses had aptly demonstrated his desire. For now she possessed more than enough love for them both.
“You look beautiful, my lady,” Rose said with a trace of awe.
Meredith smiled her thanks and glanced in the mirror above her dressing table. The pale blue silk nightgown was of simple design, low cut and sleeveless, with an open front guaranteed to tempt any warm blooded male to reach inside and explore. In a show of bravado, Meredith declined the matching robe, clearly shocking her maid.
“I will see you in the morning, Rose.”
“Late morning, I expect.” Rose giggled briefly at her own daring and hastily left the room.
Meredith’s nerves kicked up again once she was alone. She glanced at the door along the far wall, the one that led to Trevor’s sitting room, but it remained shut tight. Sighing, she picked up her silver-handled brush, sat before the dressing table, and rhythmically stroked her hair.
He arrived suddenly through the connecting door that linked their rooms. Though she had been expecting him, she nearly jumped when he appeared as a glimmer of movement in her mirror.
“Should I have knocked?”
“Of course not.” Rising from the padded seat, she turned to face him fully.
He wore a brocade dressing gown of sapphire blue, loosely belted at the waist, that accented the width of his shoulders and the broadness of his chest. His feet were bare. She could not see much beyond his ankles, but surmised he wore nothing else beneath the garment. The flickering candlelight flattered his fair complexion and refined facial features.
Meredith nearly sighed. He was such a compelling, handsome man. The intensity of his gaze made her heart begin to thud. Yet his face could have been carved from stone, for he showed not a hint of emotion.
“Your maid?”
“Rose has retired for the night.”
“Good.” She felt his gaze travel over her, taking in every detail of her revealing attire. With effort, she was able not to flinch. “I assume you are a virgin?”
There was a long pause as Meredith told herself not to be insulted or angered by the question. “Yes. Does that disappoint you?”
His expression broke and he grimaced. Yet he did not answer her question but instead said, “Your mother is not here to offer you advice or address any of your concerns. Is there anything you would like to ask me?”
Ask him? About what?
Though she had vowed she would not, Meredith felt a blush creep into her cheeks as she finally caught his meaning.
“My mother already explained . . . that is to say, I already know . . . I mean I am aware—”
Abruptly she stopped, not believing how flustered she felt by this discussion. Taking a deep breath, Meredith tried again. “I am very aware of all aspects of marital relations. Physical relations. My mother has always felt it was most important that a woman not remain ignorant of such matters, so she took it upon herself to enlighten and explain everything to me when I reached my eighteenth birthday.”
“Everything?” The notion seemed to amuse him. “Hmmm, now
I
am nervous.”
Meredith felt herself relax. It was going to be all right. Trevor seemed to be in the grip of some strange emotion, but it no longer frightened or disturbed her.
She lacked the nerve to suggest they move to the bed, so instead of speaking she acted. Rose, or some other servant, had drawn back the spread. Meredith could feel the coolness of the satin sheet against her bottom through her sheer nightgown as she sat in the middle of the bed.
As she waited for him to follow, she admitted she was looking forward to this aspect of their relationship. He had already demonstrated his passion for her with his soul-melting kisses and languid caresses.
She had always been curious about the physical side of the male/female relationship, but never more so since the marquess had kissed and caressed her. Even that first night in the garden she knew there was something different about him, different about them.
The intimacy they were about to share would create a bond between them, a bond that would grow stronger as the days and weeks passed.
Meredith was not a love-struck fool. She did not believe this would instantly solve all the obstacles they now faced. But it could be a start. A most important, pleasurable start.
But still she waited. The marquess had not moved from his position. He seemed to be wrestling with some internal dilemma, some indecision. He turned and Meredith nearly cried out, for she thought he meant to leave.
She quieted when she saw him unbelt his dressing gown, then inhaled slowly as he removed the robe. As she had thought, he was naked beneath and achingly beautiful. Hard, solid muscle, broad shoulders and chest, narrow waist, long, fit legs.
The mattress shifted slightly as he sank down beside her. His nearness brought on a longing and hunger that started somewhere deep inside her. Never had she been so acutely aware of her body.
“Are you still nervous?” Meredith asked with a small smile.
“Terrified.” His expression was so serious it made her heart ache. Something
was
troubling him.
Tenderly she raised her hand and laid it on his chest. “I promise I will not bite you, my lord.”
“Regretfully, I cannot make the same vow, my lady.”
Her fingers strayed to his hair, caressed the outline of his ear, then moved to the back of his neck. “I do not mind in the least,” she whispered in a sultry voice, pulling his neck forward.
Arching against him, she drew him into a deep, warm kiss. He remained totally still for a moment. Then he ran his tongue along her lips. Eagerly Meredith parted them, and his tongue sank inside to tease and tangle with hers.
It felt so good, warm and sensuous and wild. Their mouths fit perfectly. Trevor’s tongue began plunging slowly in and out, and Meredith became lost in the wonder of it as she tasted him fully.
Trevor placed his hands on either side of her face and gently pulled back from the kiss, his mind in complete turmoil. She leaned forward, pressing every part of her scantily clad body against his. His arms encircled her and she settled herself beneath his chin, burrowing closer. Then Meredith lifted her lips and pressed them gently to the pulse that beat rapidly at the base of his throat.
It was a gesture of trust and caring that rocked the marquess to the core of his being. His heart swelled with a deep, painful yearning he had previously associated exclusively with his relationship with Lavinia.
The urge to protect and cherish grew strong, and he nearly laughed out loud of the absurdity of his predicament. For the one he needed to protect this delicate creature from was himself.
He had bedded many women in the past eight years, more than he could count. More than he could remember. At first he had been mistaken in believing that his passion for Meredith was yet another of his typical reactions to a woman of such beauty, charm, and spirit.
Now he knew better. He knew he was not prepared to be the type of husband she would demand. She had told him that before when she refused his proposal of marriage, but he had not heeded her warning.
She would not allow herself to be ignored, though in the end it would be best for both of them. Was it fair or honorable to allow himself to feel only desire for her? Would that not make an already difficult situation nearly intolerable?
Trevor lowered his chin until it rested on the top of her head and sighed. He felt a surge of guilt as his conscience warred with his sexual desire. Before entering her bedchamber tonight, he had resolutely put his attraction to his wife aside. That resolve had already been sorely tested when she looked at him with such open longing. And yet he had managed to control his urges, had managed to refrain from unleashing the pent-up passion that was tormenting him. Thus far.
“Is anything wrong, my lord?”
Her caring tone made him feel vulnerable, an emotion he despised.
“Lie back on the bed, Meredith.”
He felt her hesitation, her reluctance to leave the warmth of his arms, but she obeyed him without comment. Her breasts rose and fell with her harsh breaths, whether from excitement or fear he could not be certain.
He closed his eyes briefly and fought for mastery over himself, pushing aside all the wild, erotic things he wanted to do with her. He almost wished she was lying stiffly, fists clenched and eyes pinned to the ceiling, awaiting her fate with the martyred indignity of an aristocratic princess.
Then he could lift the hem of her nightgown, move her thighs apart, and couple with her, swiftly and fiercely.
But she was neither stoic nor shy, his exquisite bride. And she seemed incapable of keeping still. Her questing fingers searched through his chest hair and found his nipples. Using the flat of her fingertips, she gently circled the outer rim, then pulled on the puckering buds.
“Our bodies are not completely so different, are they?” she said in wonderment.
“You had best wait a few moments before making such rash statements,” he replied.
Trevor lowered his head and nuzzled her neck and jaw. The sheer joy of discovery in her eyes was too much to endure. He felt his cock twitch, then harden further as she slid her hands along the side of his hips and down his thighs.
He knew he should discourage her, but her touch felt so good, so right upon his burning flesh. Ever bold, she closed her wandering fingers around the base of his stiff erection and squeezed experimentally.
Hot waves of hunger poured through his body. “You must remember, I am rather nervous,” he said hoarsely, as he reached down and pulled her hand away. “And shy of you.”
“Shy?” Meredith laughed, throwing back her head and exposing the column of her long neck. “You do not feel shy, my lord.”
He smiled, despite his determination not to enjoy himself. Her innocence and enthusiasm were beguiling. He dipped his mouth to her breasts, kissing her erect nipples through the silk sheerness of her nightgown. Meredith drew in a sharp breath and arched her back.
Trevor moved his hand down below her waist, found the entrance to her body and circled it lightly with his finger. She made a small sound of pleasure deep in her throat and lifted her hips. The hot wetness at the juncture of her thighs let him know she would be able to accept his length with a minimum amount of pain.
He gathered her close, shutting himself off to all emotions except the relentless drive of his passion. Somehow her nightgown had become tangled around her waist. There were no impediments as Trevor opened her legs with the thrust of his knee and placed himself between them.
He entered her partway, then drove forward slowly. Meredith struggled, her legs shifting restlessly around him. He paused.
“Does that hurt?”
“It burns, stings.” She bit her lower lip, then tossed her head back and forth on the pillow. “Don’t stop. Full. I feel so full and stretched.”
He rocked his hips forward and she whimpered. “Better?” he asked.

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