As the luxurious carriage pulled by a team of four ambled on through the English countryside, Winter found himself at the receiving end of a disapproving glare. His beloved had fallen asleep and strands of her lovely hair fell over his body as her chest rose and fell in slumber.
'You should have asked me for permission, English.' His soon-to-be brother announced finally when Winter did not pay much heed to his murderous looks. 'Now that Da is not here, I am the patriarch of this family. If you were an honorable sort, you would have asked for my permission to court Phina. And then you should have asked me if you could marry my sister. That's how you toffs go about this business, don't ya?'
'Patriarch?' Winter chuckled and the boy's glare intensified. 'That is an impressive word. And perhaps a little generous for a boy of nine, no?'
'I am ten.' The boy snapped, puffing his chest out and sitting taller on his seat.
Winter just chuckled some more and ruffled his hair. He'd never had a sibling before. 'That explains your impressive vocabulary, then.'
'I go to school,' Caelan shrugged. 'And I like to read. But, about my sister.'
'Your sister is a grown woman capable of making her own decisions, Caelan.'
'Still. It is about respect, English. And since we are not well acquainted, you may refer to me as Mr. Macleod.'
Winter resisted the urge to point out that if they were observing proprieties then Caelan ought to refer to him as My Lord instead of English. Nor did he point out that the boy's speech held no inflections of his Scottish brogue, likely a result of his schooling.
'Ah, but we are to be brothers, are we not? Surely we can dispense with such formalities. You may call me Winter, if you wish.'
'Well, Winter. Be honest, why would a toff like you marry a nobody like my sister? You're too rich to want her inheritance.' The boy demanded. 'Tell me the truth, you got her pregnant, didn't you?! That's why we're rushing to the border like the devil is on our heels.'
'Why the devil does everyone keep assuming that?! Little boys should not speak of such things.' Winter choked. 'I love your sister and want to marry her as soon as possible. I've wasted a stupid amount of time already. I have not touched your sister in any untoward way, with anything other than the utmost respect, I promise.'
'I don't trust you, Marquess.' The boy sniffled. 'If you had good intentions, you'd be marrying her at Whitechapel, with a license and a pastor, so that all the rest of you toffs could see you're not ashamed to be marrying her.'
'I have the best of intentions, I assure you. When we are back, I am sure my mother will throw us a gigantic ball and invite everyone she can possibly think of. Is that enough for you to see that I am more than willing to show your sister off to the world?'
The boy nodded gravely, but the disapproval did not leave his eyes.
'Will you stop me from meeting my friends because they aren't fancy like you?'
'No, we will live in London for most of the year so I don't see any reason why you should not see your friends. In a few years, we can think about Eton. I am also thinking to buy property in Scotland, perhaps near your village, so that we may spend summers there. I would wish for my children to know their mother's homeland.'
The boy nodded again. 'She would like that.'
'And what about you? How can I get you to like me?' Winter leaned forward to look the boy in the eye. 'You are important to her, and thus by extension to me. I am to be your family, and I would very much like to be your friend.'
When the boy remained in a contemplative silence, Winter decided to change tactics. Bribery had yet to fail him.
'I have a country estate in Richmond with a riding course. You would be welcome to it, we could go on weekends.'
The boy's eyes gleamed with interest.
Catch more flies with honey than vinegar.
'You'd let me have one of your fine horses, Marquess?'
Marquess was certainly a step up from English.
Right?
'Of course not. I'll take you to Tattersalls to get you one of your own.'
The boy gasped, but then his brows gathered into a troubled frown. 'We cannae afford to keep a horse like that.'
Ah, so the boy had his sister's habit of slipping into his brogue when surprised. Winter felt affection bubble inside his heart.
'Why not?' Winter leaned back. 'You're about to become the ward of a very wealthy man. You can do whatever you wish.'
'You're trying to bribe me, old man.' The boy scowled.
'Who the devil are you calling old?'
'Thirty is practically ancient.' The boy informed him archly and shot his sister a pitying look. 'Lecherous cradle robber.'
'She's only five years my junior!' Winter hissed at the boy who finally beamed at him in amusement.
'Donnae worry, English. I was just teasing.'
'You're half English.' Winter pointed and the boy finally laughed. 'Is the bribery working?'
'Let's talk pin money and then we'll see.' The boy was, at last, smiling at him with mirth.
'A pound each month.' A generous amount indeed.
'A pound and fifty.'
'Absolutely not, you little extortionist.'
'Can't blame a man for trying.' Caelan grinned, winking at Winter.
'Man?' Winter raised a teasing eyebrow and the boy grinned again, not minding the good-natured ribbing.
'Scots mature faster than ye pansy English. My whiskers will be out come winter.' The slip in brogue deliberate this time and they both shared a soft laugh before lapsing into amiable silence.
A moment passed in silence before the boy spoke again.
'When I was younger, I always wished I had a brother. I would like for us to be friends too, Winter.'
'So I take it that I meet your approval? Was it the pin money or the horse? You'll happily say I do when the officiant asks Who here gives away the bride?'
'Yes, I will. And yes, they were factors, certainly. But really I like the fact that even so early on you are looking out for what would make her happy. You be a good husband, aye?'
'Aye,' Winter replied with a pleased smile.
Bribery never fails.
Seraphina was married. Married. She stretched her fingers in front of her face, gazing at the lovely ring she wore, glittering in evidence. She shot an apprehensive look out of the window, where the sun had long since gone down, and then another at the door that separated her suite from her husband's.
Not only was Seraphina married, but this was also her wedding night. The night of one's deflowering that married women either grimaced about or blushed about. The night that prospective suitors looked forward to greatly.
The bedding of oneself by one's husband.
The only trouble was that her husband seemed in no hurry to deflower her. Now, given that he had been sneaking kisses from her at every opportunity, she sincerely doubted that he had lost his enthusiasm for the marital bed, which only meant that he was being overly considerate. She heard movement in the adjoining suite and waited patiently for the door between their chambers to open.
Which reminded her, she really had to have a conversation about this separate bedrooms business. How stupid it was! He was welcome to store his clothes in a separate room but if he had any illusions about where he was going to spend every night henceforth, she would set it to rights!
When the door remained closed and Seraphina remained very much un-deflowered, she irritably considered going to sleep. And then she let out a sigh and her heart filled with affection. The fool was likely trying to let her rest, given the breakneck speed at which they had been traveling, with minimal stops for rest.
She slipped out of bed and padded over to the door, slowly twisting the knob, half afraid that he would already be asleep, half afraid that he would rebuff her.
'Winter?' She whispered, his eyes snapping to hers from where he was sitting by the fire, enjoying a cup of tea.
Tea at this time of night?
Ah, because he did not drink, of course.
'Hello, madam wife.' He greeted her amiably, but there was tension in every movement as he stood in greeting. 'May I help you? Anything you find not to your liking?'
'Yes, indeed.' She answered flatly. 'My husband.'
His eyes blazed with an unidentifiable emotion, even as a half-smile tugged at his mouth. He prowled closer until he was near enough that their breaths mingled.
'Oh? And what about him do you find less than adequate? I shall have a stern word on your behalf.'
'You see,' she began and pressed a kiss to his lips. 'He talked a rather big game about lovemaking.'
'He must be rather confident in his ability.' They kissed, their hands exploring each other's bodies so tenderly and lovingly that Seraphina thought she might be dreaming.
'Certainly, but he told me that he'd been celibate for over two years. Mayhap he is out of practice? I hear it is very normal for one to be nervous on their wedding night. He really ought not to forget that I am the virgin and not he.'
'Why, Lady Graham, I do not think he is afraid of underperforming.' He nibbled on her lower lip in punishment but even that made her want to press closer to him.
'You ought to know he all but begged me to marry him-'
'Begged?' He choked as his possessive hands gripped her bottom and squeezed.
'Oh, aye. And now it is several hours into our wedding night and I remain sadly virginal.'
'Did you consider, perhaps, that he does not want to make demands of his delectable wife after he rushed her to the border?'
Even as he said the words, he eased Seraphina onto the bed, his hands slipping over the skin of her legs under the night rail. He made a sound of approval at the back of his throat, savoring the contact.
'Perhaps he might have considered that his wife is rather eager to get her hands on him?' She raised herself up and began tugging at his shirt, pulling it over his head and God he was magnificent. Lean, but not very slender, with strong arms and the most exquisitely beautiful hands she had ever seen. His nails had been trimmed and buffed and they enhanced the masculine beauty of those long fingers.
'You're sure?' He asked, his breathing ragged and a telltale bulge at the fall of his trousers.
She nodded with such enthusiasm that he laughed.
'Um- of course, unless you are tired? Or not up to it?'
'Seraphina Hastings, I ought to confess right now that I have thought the most horrible, scandalous things about you. It's a blessing that I have a lifetime to demonstrate.' He was guiding her night rail over her legs, then her stomach, and then her shoulders, leaving a trail of gooseflesh in his wake until she was completely exposed. She fought the urge to cover herself with her hands. 'I would be up to it even if I was dead. But God, you're lucky I didn't realize what a sight you are like this, or else I would have had my way with you sooner.'
His appreciative gaze roamed her figure as he settled between her thighs, encouraging her to splay them wide to accommodate him.
'You didn't wear any drawers.' His voice sounded almost feral.
'Ummm,' she was certain her face was beet red. 'I believe in efficiency?'
He threw his head back and laughed at that and then his gaze turned tender. 'I can't believe you're mine. I am a lucky, lucky bastard.'
'I was almost from the very first.'
'Wife.' He breathed against her skin as he trailed kisses down her scar, her throat, and then his mouth found the taut peak of her nipple. She cried out as she was assailed by his tongue, the sensation rushing down to intensify the ache between her legs, she had not yet become accustomed to the feeling when his fingers swept through her cleft, spreading her slickness over her, his fingers locating the point of pleasure at the apex of her sex.
'Do you know what to expect?' He asked tenderly, brushing soothing kisses across her chest. She nodded, unable to form the words as sensation quickened over her. She felt a rush of love for him, knowing that the women from his circles were so sheltered that the wedding night was most likely a surprise to them and he was merely trying to put her at ease. Knowing that he was taking his time with her, in spite of his two years of abstinence.
'Oh! Oh, heavens!' She whimpered as he toyed with her, sliding a finger inside her. 'Please. Oh, God, please. Winter, I need you.'
'Not yet, sweetheart.' He curled his finger inside her, slowly. 'Do you feel how tight you are here? Christ. It's enough to drive a man mad. It will hurt too much if we do it now, so find your release for me, love. It'll be easier after that to take me.'
He changed his angle, his finger somehow curling inside her and hitting something that made the heat inside her blaze to a raging inferno, and when he managed to add a second finger, she found her release in a diving crescendo that took her several minutes to recover from. In the meantime her husband had (thankfully, might she add) divested himself of his trousers and smalls.
She shamelessly ogled him as he approached her once more, aligning their bodies. Perhaps it was unseemly and she ought to avert her eyes, but she even found his manhood to be beautiful.
'I'm told that this part hurts, but only this once. I promise. I'll be gentle, don't worry.' He rested his brow against hers and slowly pressed forward. The sensation was foreign but not uncomfort-
She cried out in pain as he thrust forward a little more firmly. He stilled immediately, his brows drawn in concern and his jaw tight with restraint.
'Are you alright?'
'That w-was not as n-nice as the other parts,' she confessed, her body tensing against the pain.
'I'm sorry.' He pressed apologetic kisses to her face. 'I'm sorry, but that was the worst of it. Should we stop?'
No, she did not want them to stop.
'I want to be yours in every way, Winter. I love you. I want us to share his.'
And she was fairly certain he would die if they did, with the way his entire body was thrumming with tension. With shallow, easy dips of his hips, he worked himself to the hilt and then stilled to allow her to get accustomed to him. She saw the tension with which he held himself and brought her hands to cup his face.
'Are you alright?' She pressed kisses to his taut cheeks.
'I'm actually distressingly close to the edge and I wanted this to last. I wanted this to be perfect.' His frustration was evident.
'Oh, Winter, it is already perfect because of you. Just be with me. Take your pleasure. I do not hurt anymore.'
'Christ, you feel like heaven.' He hissed as he began to move in earnest, still his movements were measured and gentle and Seraphina was reminded of all the reasons why she loved this man. Soon, her own body was moving with him, her hips raising to meet him for each thrust. 'God, I love you. You were made for me.'
With a few more fitful movements, he groaned his release against her throat and gently eased off of her.
'It'll be better next time,' he promised, still a little breathless. 'God, darling, you were fantastic. Just perfect.'
'It was wonderful already,' she confessed. 'The girls back at the Sanctuary speak of this so casually, I never knew how intimate it could be.'
'It felt that way because we love each other. This is the first time I have ever felt like this; grateful to be here. Grateful to be sharing this with you.'
They were both silent for a beat, reveling in the afterglow of their lovemaking, reveling in the knowledge that they would be together for years and years afterward, reveling in the fact that they were incredibly happy to be here.
'I am also realizing that I am somewhat possessive,' he laughed softly as he tucked her into his side. 'The idea that no one else knows you like this gives me far too much pleasure.'
She laughed and relaxed into him, the press of his body against hers feeling so natural as if it had been waiting for this for years. They both drifted off to sleep with smiles on their faces.
Seraphina Macleod Hastings, Marchioness of Graham, had never been happier.