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“Why should Mary have to do all that work to keep her husband interested?” Josie asked, sounding a touch affronted. “Should he not have to put forth effort as well?”
Cynthia laughed. “One day, you should ask my husband exactly how much effort he has to put toward keeping me happy.” Her hazel eyes danced with mischief. “I can assure you, he feels much more put upon than I do. He tells me so regularly, all while exerting himself to satisfy me. Besides, this only works for a man like Rex. If Arabella were to tax Thomas with such measures, he would likely clam up.”
“Thomas chases after me as much as I want him to.” Arabella sniffed. “Besides, I never had to worry about a wandering eye with him. He is not the type to seek out a mistress.”
“No, he is the type to wallow in resentment if he was not satisfied and make both of you miserable in the end. You are good for him,” Cynthia reassured her.
There was a quick knock on the door, and Aunt Elizabeth came bustling in, causing all of them to start guiltily.
“It is time to go, ladies,” Aunt Elizabeth said brightly, clasping her hands in front of her. She appeared only slightly harried from her efforts to organize everything for the brunch following the ceremony. When she took in the sight of Mary, her eyes turned even brighter and suspiciously shiny. “Oh, Mary, you look wonderful, an absolute vision.”
“Yes, she is,” Arabella said fondly, picking up Mary’s veil. “Hartford is going to swallow his tongue.”
“Let us hope not,” Mary heard Cynthia mutter under the laughter that rang out. “There are far more interesting things he could be doing with it.”
Unable to stop giggling, Mary made her way downstairs with the help of her friends and aunt. She was getting married. The little nonsense song Arabella had made up rang in her head, spinning around Cynthia’s advice. No, she could not make the Marquess fall in love with her, but she thought there was a good deal of wisdom in Cynthia’s words. If she followed that line, maybe she, too, could reform her rake and find love in marriage.
Chapter 16
Rex
“Inow pronounce thee, husband and wife.”
The simple declaration set off a shocking swell of possessive furor in Rex’s body, solely directed at the beauty clinging to his arm—his wife. She was stunning and looked rather stunned as he led her down the aisle past their guests, no longer Miss Mary Wilson, now the Marchioness of Hartford.
With her by his side, Rex felt every inch the lion thetoncalled him. Suppressing the urge to drag his new bride off to his lair, he bowed to the social dictates and did the pretty by her side, engaging in the dully monotonous receiving line. Still, having Mary by his side did much to assuage his impatience. Knowing she was finally his, truly and completelyhis, in the eyes of both the law and the ton, eased some of his impatience. He had waited this long for her… what was a few more hours?
The only sour note of the day was Lucas’ absence, but Carlisle filled his place admirably. Arabella had played her part to perfection as well, clearly glowing with happiness for him and Mary. If anyone was looking for a chink in the family’s relations, they were not going to find it there.
Glancing over the throng outside the church, Rex noted Julian Mitchell’s scowling face. He kept his own expression impassive but reminded himself to have a word with Warwick about the man. It boggled the mind that Warwick could have sponsored such two different men to the Society. Rex thought Captain Jones to be the superior specimen in every conceivable way. When he glanced back over, Mitchell had disappeared into the crowd.
Hartford returned his attention to his new wife and their receiving line as each guest left the church. She handled herself with aplomb, smiling and conversing easily, only the slightest bit of strain beginning to show as the minutes ticked onward. It was not until they were in his carriage, on their way to the brunch her aunt had organized, the social mask slipped, and she slumped on the seat across from him, eyeing him warily.
Perhaps, like him, she was remembering the way their last carriage ride had gone. His cock twitched, but he could wait. His new wife, however, was so tightly wound, he felt it would be beneficial to both of them if he helped her relax.
“Alone at last,” he murmured. She blushed, awareness and arousal flaring in her eyes. Skirts rustled as she squirmed in her seat, and Rex grinned wickedly. All the interest he had lacked at the Society’s masquerade surfaced with a vengeance, focused onher.
The bodice of her dress did not lend itself to rakish endeavors, but Rex would make do with what he could. Kneeling on the carriage floor, he enjoyed the way her eyes widened, surprised, fascinated, and utterly curious.
“What are you doing?” The question came out as a breathless whisper, even though he knew she had seen enough at the Society to have some idea of his goal.
“Exploring,” he replied, winking before flipping up her skirts and diving beneath.
It was a humid, ivory wonderland, the material just thin enough he was not in total darkness. With her legs slightly parted, he could already see she had forgone drawers. Rex smiled in delight, placing his hands on the insides of her knees and spreading them far apart.
“Rex!” The quiet hiss of his name was further muffled by the fabric around him, and Rex ignored her. She was finally, completely his in a manner no other woman had been, and he was going to do as he pleased. Besides, he knew she did not want him to stop—not really. The proprieties might be worrying her, but she did nothing more than say his name, rather than telling him ‘no’ or even asking him to cease.
Sliding his hands under her buttocks, he pulled her hips forward on the seat, enjoying her little squeak. His broad shoulders kept her legs spread, though he could feel her thighs pushing against his arms, trying to close. Sadly, it was too dark to make out any details of her pretty pussy, but he was not here to look, anyway.
Bowing his head, Rex pressed a kiss to the soft flesh of her inner thigh. His cock jerked in response to her gasp and the sudden pressure on his head, where she was now pressing atop her skirts. Scraping his teeth over her sensitive skin, he licked the spot as an apology for the nip, then turned his attention to her opposite thigh, quickly working his way up to her apex.
Later, he would be able to take his time and complete a more thorough exploration, but for now, he only had one goal—to satisfy his new wife before they reached their wedding brunch. No one would know, but the two of them, which somehow was gratification enough.
Mary
Oh, glory… Mary whimpered, one hand over her mouth to stifle the little sounds she could not entirely suppress as Rex kissed his way up her thighs and the other atop the lump where his head was beneath her skirts. She felt achy and itchy all over. She did not know if she could bear it if he stopped, yet she also did not think she should let him continue.
What if they reached the house before he finished?
