Amelia (The Marriage Market Book 1) (7 page)

"Any chance you might come and steal her away now?" Hugh asked, feigning hope.

"Nary a one," he assured Hugh. "I may be old, but I'm not foolish."

"I didn't think so, but it never hurts to ask."

Opening the door, he escorted Amelia from the room.

Upon leaving the judge's chambers, they set off immediately for the photographer's studio and sat through the standard poses. When her new husband approached the photographer Amelia assumed he was taking care of the bill until he returned and resumed his seat. Resting her hand on his shoulder she was shocked when he took it and pulled her onto his lap. He leaned her back and claimed her lips in a kiss. While the young man took a few pictures, Hugh held her firmly in place. Too shocked to struggle, Amelia ended up with her arm around his neck and slightly out of breath.

"Why ever did you do that?" she asked, dazed by his behavior.

"I wanted something different, something unique," he replied with a smile. "Sometimes when I look at my mother, I find it hard to believe she was ever a sweet young bride. I want these photographs to always remind us of how we are today."

"Hugh, that's very sweet," she said with a smile. "I guess as long as we don't display them on our mantle and they are only for our eyes, they will be a nice reminder."

"Oh no," he said, grinning as he stood with her in his arms. "I'm going to have a huge portrait painted of the most outrageous one and hang it over the fireplace."

"Now you're teasing me. Put me down," she whispered. "The photographer must think we are crazy."

"He's welcome to think anything he likes," he said, setting her gently on her feet, "as long as he does a good job. Come along, Mrs. Jordon, we need to get to the telegraph office and send off some cables. I want your father to know I've made an honest woman of you and I want to let my family know we will be on our way tomorrow. It will also give my mother time to throw a tantrum or two before we get there."

"Is she really that bad?" Amelia asked with a worried frown. "Doesn't she want you to marry and produce grandchildren?"

"Oh, she wants my brother and me to marry, but to women she's chosen. Frequently, she brings back young women from her travels in an effort to tempt us. Once she even brought an Arabian girl trained for the harem." He laughed. "It was the one time I can remember my father losing patience with her. She did not stay at home long before she returned to France for a visit."

"What if she doesn't like me?" Amelia asked quietly as the photographer stepped back into the room.

"Then I'll consider myself a very lucky man," he replied with a laugh. "I'd prefer she have no influence over you. Amelia, my mother is a lovely, charming woman, when she wants to be. She's also capable of causing havoc wherever she goes."

"And your father?"

"My father is a strong, opinionated man, except when it comes to my mother. If she could put a ring in his nose, she'd lead him around joyfully. They are a very strange couple, to say the least. They want different things out of life."

"Will that happen to us?" she asked, tilting her head and looking up at him. "What if we don't suit? We don't know each other very well, not really."

Hugh smiled and patted the hand she placed on his arm.

"Let's continue this conversation in the carriage."

Amelia nodded in agreement.

"Do you think we could arrange to have some copies sent back east? I'm sure my father would like one and I'd like to send one to Effie and Grace."

"Certainly, but who are Effie and Grace?"

"Grace Wentworth and Effie Lane are my very dearest friends. I think a copy of our wedding picture will go a long way in assuring them I'm safely married, and that you're not an ogre," she teased.

"Then by all means, we must send them a photograph as soon as possible," Hugh agreed. "I would hope that will set their minds at ease."

Amelia carefully wrote out the addresses and handed the paper to the photographer.

"Thank you so much. My father and friends will appreciate this," she told the young man.

"Think nothing of it, Mrs. Jordon. I'm pleased to do it and it's a request we get all the time."

"Let's get those cables sent," Hugh said as he opened his pocket watch and noted the time. "It's been a long time since breakfast and I'm starving. What would you say about having dinner in our room tonight? We have to get up very early to catch the morning tide."

"Truthfully, I think it's a wonderful idea. The last few days have been exhausting. I think you've dragged me to every point of interest in a fifty mile radius," she teased. "And I'd just as soon not be on public display. I think dining quietly in our room will give us more time to really get to know each other," she said with a blush as she realized how that sounded. "Goodness, I don't think that came out quite right."

Hugh laughed and winked at her as he opened the door and they left the shop.

As soon as her new husband assisted her into the carriage, Amelia was ready to resume the conversation.

"How do you know that won't happen to us? I'm sure your parents didn't intend for their marriage to turn out the way it has."

"My father was blinded by love. For some reason, he couldn't see that her name fit her personality. Mother is tempestuous by nature. She flourishes in constant chaos and upheaval and my father has the ability to ignore it. I do not. I want a calm and peaceful home and I believe you have the gentle nature required to ensure that."

"How can you possibly know that? I'm not a saint. I do have a temper, and I have very strong beliefs regarding certain issues. We'll definitely have disagreements."

"If and when we have a disagreement, I will listen to your concerns, and then you will do exactly as I say." Hugh teased her with a huge smile on his face. The sight of her mouth dropping open in surprise had him laughing aloud.

"Let me rephrase that," he said. "We will discuss any problems we have as adults and come to an agreement, providing it's a subject open for debate. Some things will not be," he continued in a serious tone. "Anything I consider unsafe, you can immediately cross off your list of things to do."

"Just like that," she asked. Her brow wrinkled in annoyance as she snapped her fingers.

"Yes, my love, just like that. I will not spend the next twenty years of my life arguing with you over nonsense and petty issues. You will have much freedom, but my final word on something is exactly that, the final word."

"What if I don't agree with you? What if I feel too strongly about something to be dissuaded?" she demanded.

"Then you will pay for your disobedience," he stated simply. "I think you know what form that will take."

"You intend to strike me?" she accused with a pout he found nearly irresistible.

"Amelia, it is my intention to be a good husband to you. However, if you behave in a childish manner and ignore my wishes, or you are stubborn to the point of foolhardiness, I will not hesitate to discipline you. By that, I mean you will spend time over my lap while I spank your naughty little naked bottom until you see the error of your ways. Does that make things clear?" he asked, grinning as her face turned a charming shade of pink.

"Perfectly," she snapped turning away from him.

Hugh smiled. "Amelia," he drawled. "Pouting is a spankable offense."

Turning back to face him, Amelia smiled, her eyes flashing with emotion.

"Husband," she said sweetly. "If I ever end up in the position you describe, you can rest assured it will have been brought about by something far more serious than a pout. I also have a limit to what I will tolerate. What you refer to as discipline, I call by its proper name, retaliation."

Slipping an arm around her, Hugh pulled her close and kissed the top of her head.

"Sweetheart, do you realize we're having our first argument as husband and wife?" he teased.

Amelia sighed and relaxed against his strong chest.

"I know, I don't think it will be our last, either. You're stubborn man, Hugh Jordon."

"Are you sorry you answered my advertisement?" It surprised him he even asked. He was a practical man. There was no turning back, so what did it matter? But he found it did matter. Suddenly her answer mattered a great deal.

Amelia took her time before replying. Angling her head back she looked into his serious eyes and stroked her fingertips along his jawline.

"Not yet," she said softly. "Please don't make me sorry, Hugh," she pleaded before snuggling into his arms.

"I'll do my best," he promised, and he meant every word.

* * *

Hours later Hugh lay on the big mahogany bed in his suite, naked but for the sheet as he waited for Amelia to come out of the adjoining bathing room. He'd had her things transferred to his room when they left the hotel that morning and also ordered flowers to be delivered before they got back.

After sending the cables, they took in the sights one last time before returning to the hotel. Hugh asked at the front desk for a bottle of champagne to be brought up despite Amelia's frown. As soon as it was delivered, he toasted his bride, insisting she take a small sip. He was delighted when she giggled and ended up drinking the entire glass.

During their meal, they talked of trivial things and when the waiter came to remove the cart, Hugh kept the bottle. He offered for Amelia to take her bath first, but she declined and said she would get her things ready for morning. .

While in the bath, Hugh pondered the best way to approach his new bride. He made a point of not bedding virgins and was slightly uncertain how to proceed. After weighing his options, he decided she was not likely to enjoy it anyway, so it was best to get the deed done as painlessly as possible. There was no point in dragging out her embarrassment. He would be matter of fact and efficient. Later he would introduce her to the finer arts of lovemaking, once she'd learned what to expect. Satisfied with his decision, he washed, shaved, and gave her the use of the room.

When he returned to the main room, she'd gathered her things rushed into the bathroom. Looking around, the first thing he noticed was the bottle was half empty and he smiled. A little wine might make the situation easier.

Now, noting the time, it seemed to him she'd been in there an inordinate amount of time. Listening intently, he thought he heard her humming. He was about to toss off the sheet and go investigate when she open the door.

The thin white nightgown clung to her body in places she hadn't dried properly and she smiled at him crookedly. Her dark hair, usually so neatly contained was in wild disarray, rampant curls hanging down her back.

"Come to bed, Amelia," he encouraged, patting the empty spot beside him.

Amelia held up one finger, moved to the side table and poured herself another glass of wine.

"Husband," she said curiously after taking a big gulp. "You have no hair on your chest. I thought all men were hairy beasts."

"It varies from man to man," Hugh informed her with a smile. The glow from the fireplace highlighted every detail of her body through the thin gown and she had no idea. "Come to bed now, sweetheart. We have an early start in the morning."

"Do men vary in other ways?" she asked thoughtfully. "I mean under their clothes."

"Basically we all have the same standard equipment, some larger than others, but still the same. My you are a curious girl," he said with a grin.

"A woman should know these things," she said seriously as she finished her drink and refilled her glass yet again. "Is your equipment very big?" She spread her hands about two feet apart. "Or very small?" she continued holding the index finger of her left hand an inch from her thumb.

Hugh laughed. "Are you always so full of questions?"

"Yes, I think I am," she answered, her brow furled in concentration. "I like to know what to expect."

"All right then, I'll tell you. My equipment is adequate to get the job done. As far as what to expect, you can expect me to come and fetch you in about three seconds if you don't come to bed. If that happens, you will get a very clear view of my equipment."

"Oh, all right." She pouted prettily, finishing her drink. Setting the glass down, she missed the table entirely and it landed on the carpet. "Oops," she said, bending to pick it up.

"Leave it," he commanded.

Sighing, she obeyed him, although she listed slightly to the left on her walk to the bed.

"You know, I've been thinking," she murmured as she began to pull her nightgown over her head and found herself caught up in the voluminous folds. "Perhaps there is a manual for this," she suggested hopefully, her voice muffled.

Hugh sat up and shook his head as he untangled her.

"A manual?"

"Yes, Mrs. Pettigrew had books for every occasion. Rules of etiquette she called them. Maybe there should be a book of rules for the wedding night. Maybe I will write one myself, tomorrow."

"You do that," Hugh said with a chuckle as he smoothed her gown back down.

Suddenly Amelia's shoulders slumped and a pitiful expression came over her face.

"Oh, I'm sorry. You wanted to undress me yourself, didn't you? Yes, I'm sure that's what you said and now I've gone and ruined it," she said sadly, looking down at her gown. "Did you see much?"

"No, not much," he replied, biting his cheek to keep from laughing.

"Thank goodness," she breathed in relief. "I don't want to spoil this for you."

"I'm pretty sure you're safe there." Hugh struggled mightily to maintain his composure. "Come up on the bed with me and I will remove your gown as I originally intended."

"Don't rip it," she admonished. "It's very fragile." Stepping on the bedside stool, Amelia flopped on the bed and flung her arms wide. "Do with me what you will, husband," she cried dramatically. "I'm ready."

"You're drunk."

Instantly she sat up and tried to focus on his eyes.

"That's not possible. You know I don't believe in imbibing spirits," she insisted, lying back down. "Perhaps you over indulged and are not seeing things correctly," she continued, patting his hand in sympathy. "I've heard that can happen."

"Happily, I'm seeing very clearly," he retorted as he slowly inched her gown to her waist. Stopping, he caressed her limbs, savoring her silken skin. "Yes, very clearly indeed." Slipping an arm under her, he held her up and pulled the gown over her head.

"Don't tear it," she repeated on a sigh as he moved to cup her breast.

"If I do, I shall buy you another," he promised.

"Two," she insisted. "You must buy me two if you damage it. I must come out ahead and benefit in some way. Otherwise you will not learn your lesson."

Hugh grinned and kissed along her jaw line.

"Two then, my love," he whispered into her ear. She was delightful and he made a mental note to always have champagne in the house. Gently he stroked her breasts. "Lovely."

"Yes, it is lovely," she agreed. "You have fine hands, husband."

Closing her eyes she arched her back when he plucked at a nipple, coaxing it into prominence. Hugh noted each little sigh and gasp as he kissed his way down her body and drew the tight little bud into his mouth. Suddenly her head popped up.

"I have a question."

"What is it, sweetheart?" he asked as he moved to lick her other nipple.

"Why when you touch me here," she asked indicating her breasts, "do I feel it here?" Laying her hand on her abdomen she showed him the exact area in question. "And it appears I'm leaking from somewhere."

It was too much. Hugh rested his forehead on her breast and chuckled.

"You are adorable," he remarked, before taking her nipple into his mouth again and sucking firmly.

"Oh," Amelia cried. "My thighs are wet now. Maybe I should go check."

"Not necessary, my darling," he assured her. "As your husband, I will attend to that for you. Spread your legs and let me see if I can find the trouble."

Instantly Amelia obeyed, splaying her legs open in concern.

"Now bend your knees a bit," he instructed.

Again she complied, slightly worried at his suddenly serious tone. Perhaps she was truly ill.

"I swear, Hugh, I was in perfect health when I arrived," she said a bit shakily.

"I'm sure there's nothing to worry about, sweetheart. Let me have a good look and we'll see what's what."

Moving to the bottom of the bed, Hugh slipped his hands under her bottom and lifted her slightly. My Lord, he nearly cried. She was perfect in every detail. Her little clit was peeking out from the lovely pink covering that protected it. The lips on either side of her opening were slightly swollen and glistening with dew. It was all he could do not to position his engorged member between those sweet lips and plunge inside her. However, that original plan was scrapped. He had in his hands, a most responsive, compliant and excited bride and he planned to reward her, hopefully several times."

Lowering her back on to the bed, he rearranged his body, letting his legs hang over the edge of the footboard.

"Everything looks normal, stunningly beautiful in fact," he told her, letting his breath bathe her in moist heat.

Amelia let out a sigh of relief.

"However, there is a bit of a bump here that bares further investigation. What happens when I touch this?" he asked, although he knew quite well. His fingers softly stroked her clit several times before he took it between his fingers and plucked it.

"Oh my goodness," she squealed. Her hips lifted off the bed entirely of their own volition. "What is that? It's… it's… I can't even begin to describe what happens when you touch it, but my tummy is having some sort of cramp."

"Are you in pain?" he asked. Kissing the inside of her thigh he released her nub.

"No, not exactly," she panted. "Maybe you better try again and see if it persists."

"I have a better idea," he whispered. Lowering his head he began to lick and lave the small protrusion until it stood out, begging him for more. Amelia tossed on the bed, deep moans coming from her throat as she shivered.