A Scandalous Past (Regency Romance, Book 4) (27 page)

“You
are
thirty-five, already with
one foot in the grave,” she teased.

Brendan slid her from his lap and edged
Cordie towards the other end of the bench. Then he stalked towards
her before she could bolt, not that there was any place she could
hide from him inside their coach. In the blink of an eye, he had
her trapped beneath him, ruthlessly tickling her sides until she
begged him between squeals of laughter to stop.

His hands stilled, settling on her waist and
he kissed her. She opened instantly for him, and their tongues
touched, nearly melding together.  Cordie’s hand slowly slid
down, until she cupped his ass, making him groan against her mouth,
wanting her, needing her all over again. “How sore are you?” he
growled.

She grinned. “Is
that
what you were
asking this morning? You should have been more clear, Brendan. I
was sore, but not that sore.”

A mistake he wouldn’t make again. He reached
for the hem of her ball gown, and began edging it up her leg, a
rakish smile on his face the whole while.

Cordie’s mesmerizing green eyes widened in
surprise. “Not in
here
.” She slapped at his hands.

“Why not?” he asked, ignoring her blows and
tugging her skirts to her waist.

“W-well,” she gulped. “There’s Wilson for
one thing.”

Brendan chuckled. “Wilson won’t hear us, and
if he does, he values his employment too much to mention it.” He
untied her drawers and kissed her neck.

“B-but in a coach?” she continued. “Is that
even possible?”

His lips moved to her earlobe, where he
nibbled. “I assure you it is.”

“Oh, Brendan!” Cordie moaned.

He slid her drawers from her legs and made
quick work with the buttons of his trousers. His cock sprang free,
hard and straining, anxious for the soft, feminine folds nestled
between her legs. With his knees, he nudged Cordie’s legs wide,
with one of them falling over the edge of the bench.

Gently, he ran a finger along her warm
feminine folds, thanking God she was already wet and waiting for
him. The heady scent of woman, his woman, filled the space between
them and he reached for his cock, guiding himself to her swollen
entrance. He pushed inside her and his head fell back. A guttural
sound escaped his throat as her warmth closed around him.  Her
arms slid around his waist, pulling him closer.

Her core melted as he slowly pressed deeper,
the warm honey of her essence coating him, pushing him to the edge.
It took all of his strength not to pour himself into in her that
very instant, but he wanted their pleasure to last beyond just a
moment. He braced his hands on the wall of the coach for purchase
and started his slow, deliberate torture.

Cordie’s eyes fluttered closed until he ran his
tongue along the creamy skin of her breast, dipped to tease a rosy
nipple out of hiding. Her eyes flew open and she started, clenched
her legs around him in response. He covered her face and neck with
kisses, whispering words of love and encouragement with each
thrust. Her breath came in pants as he rocked them towards climax.
He clasped her to him as they found their release, not wanting to
leave the intimacy of their joining.

The rocking carriage was more arousing than
soothing, and within a short time Brendan found himself as hard and
wanting as a man in the first throes of manhood. It was only
concern for her newly aroused femininity that had him withdrawing
and cradling her while she slept. 

***

Somehow, Cordie slept through the remainder
of the day, and only awoke when Brendan laid her across a bed at an
inn.  She’d had the most wonderful dreams all afternoon, each
of them ending the same, wrapped in her husband’s arms.

“Are you still tired?” Brendan
whispered.

She shouldn’t be, not with all the sleep
she’d gotten.  Still, she could barely find the energy to
answer him. “Uh-huh,” she said dreamily.

He chuckled as he kissed her cheek. “My
sleeping beauty. Do you want to stay in your gown? Or sleep in your
chemise?”

Cordie blinked her eyes open, trying to
adjust to the light in the room. “No more nightrails you’ve charmed
out of innkeepers?”

A smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
“I’ve only been successful at charming
you
today, love.”

She returned his smile. “I am glad to hear
it. I don’t like the idea of maids all across England falling in
love with my husband, trying to woo him with their nightrails.”

Brendan dropped on the bed beside her, and
cradled her against him. “If anyone deserves to be jealous, Cordie,
it’s me. In the last fortnight, you’ve received two marriage
proposals—both right in front of me, I might add—and just today I
learned you had a fiancé. We’re going to have to do something about
your proclivity for attracting men.”

“I received
three
marriage
proposals,” she corrected him with a giggle. “Brookfield’s, yours,
and then Haversham’s. But the marquess wasn’t sincere.”

“How do you know?” his voice sounded
strangled.

“Because he’d just agreed to take me home
before you barged in and punched him in the nose. Poor fellow.”

Brendan growled, deep in his chest.
“Blackguard deserved more than that.”

“He only asked me so that it would seem like
I had a choice. But he knew I’d never pick him. He knew I loved
you.”

“You told
him
?” Brendan asked with
wonder.

Cordie shook her head. “He guessed. 
When I couldn’t…”  She
couldn’t
finish that sentence.
What a mistake she’d nearly made. Thank heaven Brendan had found
her, had whisked her off to Scotland.

“I’d prefer not to think about the
scoundrel. From now on I want to be the only man in your thoughts,”
her husband whispered in her ear, before rolling her onto her back.
Then he made love to her over and over again.

Cordie stared out the coach window with
anxious anticipation, as her new home grew ever closer. Bayhurst
Court, a sandstone Tudor mansion, stood proudly against a backdrop
of Derbyshire’s rolling hills.  She looked back at her husband
over her shoulder, to see him smiling at her.

“You’ll love it,” he told her again.

“And you’re sure they’ll like me?” she asked
for the hundredth time.

Brendan nodded. “Why are you so
worried?”

How could she explain it to him? “Well,
they’re your family…and I’ve never met them, but suddenly I’m one
of them, and I...”

“I’ve never met your brother, Lord
Avery.”

Cordie shrugged. As if Gregory would care
one way or the other. He’d just be glad she wasn’t publicly ruined.
“It’s not the same thing, Brendan. We aren’t going to live with
my
family.”

“Rose and Thomas are your family now,
Cordie. And they’re going to love you. I promise.”

As if on cue, the carriage rambled to a stop
on the drive. Brendan gave her a quick kiss, then she took a
steadying breath before Wilson opened the door. Her husband stepped
out first and then offered her his arm.  Cordie glanced up,
stumbled slightly as her knees went weak. An entire household staff
littered the front lawn.

“Did they know we were coming?”

Brendan quirked a grin. “I sent a note from
Gretna Green. It probably arrived a few days ago, as the mail coach
didn’t stop along the way like we did.”

Cordie blushed, remembering their stops.
Each inn where her husband made passionate love to her. Brendan
winked at her, and Cordie felt certain he was remembering the same
things she was at the moment.

“Uncle!” a boy shouted, running towards
them. He was a handsome boy with light brown hair, and Brendan’s
twilight eyes. He stopped short before he reached them, furrowing
his brow.

“Thomas,” Brendan greeted his nephew with a
smile. “Allow me to present my wife, Cordelia, the Countess of
Clayworth. Cordie love, this is Thomas.”

Thomas Reese bowed slightly. “My lady.”

She nodded to the boy and smiled. “I’ve
heard so much about you, Thomas. It’s very nice to meet you.”

“He looked surprised at her words. “Thank
you.” Then he looked at Brendan. “Uncle, if you have a moment, I
need to speak with you.”

“Is she here?” screeched a voice from inside
the house. Cordie froze to her spot, as she recognized it
instantly.

So did Brendan. His handsome face turned at
once to a scowl. “Lady Avery is here?” he asked his nephew.

Thomas glanced first at Cordie and then at
his uncle before nodding. “And her sons.”

Cordie’s eyes flew to the front of the manor
house. Her mother was here? Her brothers? She felt faint, but
Brendan’s arm snaked around her waist. “Breathe, love. We knew we’d
have to face them sooner or later.”

She had been hoping for never, but before
she could respond, her mother bolted from the house. “You
ungrateful child!” she wailed, causing the staff assembled on the
lawn to all draw a collective breath.

“My dear mother-in-law,” Brendan called
smoothly over the crowd. “We are so pleased you have come to
visit.”

He really was an excellent liar. Her mother
stopped in her tracks, though she glared at Cordie. “Thank you for
your generosity, Lord Clayworth,” she clipped out.

***           

The ability to maintain his temper under
extraordinary circumstances was one of Brendan’s better qualities,
or at least he’d always thought so. However, keeping calm in Lady
Avery’s presence was a test of wills. Between the strained look on
Thomas’ face and the way Cordie shook at the sight of her mother,
his blood boiled. Still he needed the letters from the woman. He
couldn’t lose his control.

Thomas tugged on his jacket and he looked at
his nephew. It was obvious the boy had great need to speak with
him, but he couldn’t let Cordie go unguarded either—not with images
of her scarred back fresh in his mind. He wouldn’t leave his wife
alone the entire time that harridan was under his roof.

“Fielding,” he addressed his butler, who
looked rather confused on the lawn along with several footmen,
maids, grooms. “Please have tea delivered to the blue salon for our
guests. My countess, Thomas, and I will be there shortly. We have a
bit of business to attend to first.”

His nephew gulped, and Brendan winked at
him, hoping to relieve the boy of his anxiety.

 Lady Avery harrumphed, but retreated
to the house, trailed by half his staff.  After waiting a
moment, Brendan led his wife and nephew toward the gardens. 
With everyone else inside, it seemed the safest place to talk.
“Thomas, what do you need to tell me?”

The boy frowned, glancing at Cordie, then
shrugged, unwilling to speak.

His wife gently touched Thomas’ shoulder.
“She hasn’t been too awful, has she?”

His nephew’s eyes lit up. “We were
afraid…”

“That I was like her?” his wife
supplied.

The boy shrugged again and Brendan ruffled
his hair. “Not to worry, Tom. Nothing could be further from the
truth. How’s Rose? Where is she?”

Thomas smiled. “Well, Richard Lester’s come
back to the village—”

Richard Lester
? Brendan’s day just
went from bad to worse. When the young man had left Sudbury two
years ago, Brendan had despaired for Rose’s health. She’d been so
desperately in love with the fellow. “Oh, God,” he moaned. “What’s
he doing here?” And what was Brendan going to do when Lester left
again?

“Well, he took Mr. Pitney’s position at the
vicarage.”

Richard Lester was the new vicar? Brendan
rubbed his brow. The village had been trying for some time to
replace the late Mr. Pitney. Never in a million years would he have
thought the position would be filled by their old neighbor. “She’s
with Lester?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

Thomas nodded his head. “Old Mrs. Lester
invited her for lunch.”

Damn the woman! She knew exactly how badly
Rose had handled her son’s departure. He heaved a sigh.

Cordie touched his arm, concern etched
across her brow. “Is everything all right?”

He scoffed his answer. His immature sister
was bound to get her heart broken a second time—not that he could
do anything about it—and his offensive mother-in-law was visiting
for an indeterminate amount of time. Cordie was right. They should
have stayed in Scotland. “I’ll tell you all about it later,
love.”

“Are you home for good?” Thomas asked. “Did
you finish whatever business of grandmother’s you went to London
for?”

He should have already told Cordie about the
letters. He’d have to do so soon, but not now. They had too many
other things to worry about at the moment. “Not quite. I’m still
working on it.”

He avoided his wife’s questioning gaze.

***           

Cordie had been anxious about her arrival at
Bayhurst Court, but now she was very nearly trembling. Why had her
mother come here?  Brendan excused Thomas, who was relieved
not to have to suffer through tea with Lady Avery. For that, Cordie
was relieved too. Who knew what awful things her mother had said to
the boy?

Brendan led her into his home and down a
corridor. “Don’t worry. She can’t stay forever.”

 After a few turns, he directed her
into a parlor, and Cordie caught her breath. They were
all
here. Her mother, Russell, Tristan, even Gregory! “Goodness, was
all this necessary?”

Her brothers all rose from their spots when
she entered the room. “Good to see you too, Cor,” Tristan said with
a wink.

They all resumed their places when Brendan
led Cordie to a settee and sat beside her.

“So, are you married?” her mother demanded
from a frilly chintz chair, scowling.

“Of course we are,” she replied. What did
her mother think? That she’d taken off for Scotland with the earl
but had gotten sidetracked?