No, his little wife was innocent in spirit, even if her body had been used. But Alderley had tricked him thoroughly and was, most likely, expecting Dexter to confront him. That old bastard would do anything to destroy Dexter’s reputation and would relish spreading tales around the clubs of London of how he’d conned him.
The woman sitting before him now was not to blame for her father’s machinations. Doubtless she lacked the wit to understand what was happening. Tucked away in obscurity lest her status as a bastard threaten her father’s good name, she was, most likely, uneducated and naïve—an unwitting pawn, a minor piece which Dexter’s opponent chose to sacrifice at a minimal cost.
Every chess player knew that a pawn had little value compared to his other pieces. Pawns were disposable. Alderley would never have consented to give him Elizabeth, for she was a more powerful piece. A queen—the one piece a chess master was reluctant to sacrifice.
A mere pawn his wife might be, and she must be removed from London with all haste.
Removed for her own well-being. Tucked away in the country, in the confines of Molineux Manor, she’d want for nothing, and she’d be safe. She may be the last woman he wanted for a wife, but he had no wish to make her life a living misery. He’d seen the bruises on her wrist. And he’d seen the fear in her eyes each time she looked at him. She was like an injured animal—and he was the last person in the world capable of giving her comfort.
But, for now, as promised, he would give her pleasure.
He grasped the bedsheet and pulled it back. At first, she resisted, then she met his gaze and yielded. Though she was thin, her body had lovely curves. Her breasts were full and shapely, and the prospect of tasting them pleased him. His gaze wandered across her body—the softly rounded belly, the delicate flare of her hips, and the nest of curls at her core.
“Lie back,” he commanded.
Her lips parted in surprise. At first, she remained still, then she complied. He lay beside her and reached toward her face. She flinched, and he stopped.
“Are you afraid?”
Her eyes glistened, but she shook her head. He placed his palm on her face and caressed her skin in the manner of a stablemaster taming a filly. Her body tensed as he continued, following the lines of her body, stroking her neck, her throat, until he reached her breasts. Her nipples were already peaked for him. She gave a little whimper of surprise.
“W-what’s happening?”
Whoever claimed her first had known nothing of pleasure. The true mark of prowess was the ability to give a woman pleasure rather than merely rutting her. And he could think of nothing more pleasurable than having his wife writhing underneath him, begging him to take her.
He placed a light kiss on her breast. She gave a little gasp, and he circled her nipple with his tongue. When he covered her breast with his mouth and sucked hard, she bucked and gave a sharp cry. The air filled with a sweet, musky smell, the unmistakable aroma of female need, and he found himself caught in a wave of powerful lust.
Jealousy overcame his lust, and he suckled harder, relishing the cries which erupted from her throat. He thrust his hand between her thighs, and she parted them for him. He almost came undone as he touched the damp curls at her center, and his fingers met her needy heat. She may not know it, but she was ready for him. He ran a fingertip along her flesh until he found the secret bud, and her body jerked, and she cried out.
How could he resist? He lowered his head, drinking in the sweet, exotic smell of female desire. Why the perfumers of Paris saw fit to distill flowers and spices was beyond him. All they need do was bottle the essence of female need, and they’d make a fortune.
He placed a light kiss inside her thigh, and she drew in a sharp breath and tried to clamp her thighs together.
He held her firm, and she let out a whimper. “Please…”
“Please what?” he asked, relishing his conquest. He knew he’d have her begging for him but had not imagined victory would come so quickly.
“Please, don’t let it hurt again.”
Her desperate plea doused his need for conquest.
He lifted his head. “Did I hurt you before?”
She nodded. “Does it always hurt?”
“Usually only the first time.”
“But the second time hurt also.”
“Did your mother not tell you about the marriage bed?” he asked.
“I never knew my mother.”
“Then I must show you myself. Hold still, and trust me.”
Hardly silver-tongued words of seduction, but she complied, and he slipped a finger inside her.
“What are you…oh!” she cried out as he teased her little nub.
Once more, she parted her legs. She may not beg with words, but her body knew what it wanted. He lowered his head and dipped his tongue into her folds, breathing in her sweet scent. She shuddered, the tremors of her body vibrating through him. Her legs shifted in a slow dance as she reached her peak.
Little mewing cries escaped her lips, and she thrust her hips toward his face. Her body rippled and contracted around him as she peaked again while he kissed and licked her.
Eventually, her cries subsided, and her body relaxed. By the time he lifted his head, she had fallen asleep, a woman well pleasured.
Her mouth had curled into a small smile of contentment. It was the first time he’d seen her smile, and the peaceful expression tore at his heart. His manhood strained with the need to be buried inside her, but he clenched his hands and sat back. Though she was his to do whatever he liked with, he had no wish to see that beautiful smile disappear. What might she look like if she smiled when awake?
Would she ever smile at him?
He shook his head. He was turning into a sentimental fool, ruled by a pretty smile and a willing body. Better for her if she learned her place sooner rather than later — and it was better if she did that in the country.
***
When Meggie woke, the fire had gone out, and the chamber was in darkness. She smiled to herself. Her predicament was not as bad as she’d feared. When her husband had realized she wasn’t a virgin, he’d been angry at first—those cold, blue eyes had flashed like a steel blade. But then he seemed resigned to it.
The memory of her pleasure pulsed through her, and she shifted her legs to recall the delicious sensation of his intimate caresses, his mouth on her flesh…
And he’d joined her in bed. Rather than be abandoned and unloved, hope sprang forth that she would be cherished and cared for.
She reached across the bed to find it empty.
Her husband had abandoned her during the night.
He was no different from the others. Her mother had abandoned her when she was a baby. Her father had tucked her away out of sight. As for him…
She cursed herself. Resurrecting that memory only led to pain
Like the rest of them, her husband had taken what he wanted, then had no further use for her.
He hadn’t even kissed her.
What might he do now? Find another to satisfy his appetite, just as Elizabeth said he would? Was that why he had a separate chamber, so he could enjoy women he desired, while the woman he’d never wanted slept next door?
She rolled onto her side and succumbed to the tears.
Chapter Nine
Dexter looked up as his wife entered the breakfast room.
“Good morning, husband.”