Cocky Mister Read online

  He licked his lips and then shook his head. Released from the intimate moment, Tabetha’s heart slowed back to its normal pace when he crossed to the bureau. When he returned with the handheld looking glass, despite his reassuring words, she hesitated before taking it from him.

  “Doctor Finch charged me with keeping you calm. I wouldn’t allow you so much as a peek if I thought this would upset you.” He nudged it into her hand.

  Believing him, she raised it to her face.

  She exhaled the breath she hadn’t even realized she’d been holding.

  “It’s a wonder you haven’t run screaming from the room.” She grimaced. “And the cat too.”

  Because her hair did look as though a nest had been built in it. But it was a pleasing color. And although she’d have preferred her eyes to be blue, they were wide and fringed with thick lashes. Not an offensive nose, pert, rather, and full lips with a cupid’s bow—almost too full but acceptable. All in all, she could have discovered much worse.

  “Satisfied?” He stood watching her, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, showing a restlessness that struck her as being familiar.

  “Have you always teased me so?” But she smiled up at him. His jesting, rather than provoke her, made her feel special. A memory flickered—a voice telling her that boys only teased the girls they preferred—but then melted away like mist in the sun.

  “I like teasing you.” He sat at the foot of the bed, keeping his hands to himself—distant.

  “You seem… distracted. Is it because you are worried? I promise I’m going to recover. I can feel it. My memories are there, I just can’t reach them.” Tabetha smiled, hoping to bolster his mood.

  By the look on his face, it was easy to see that he was still blaming himself—wrongly. But it was her fault. She was the one who’d left their room. She looked down at her gown and frowned. “Why did I attempt to go downstairs in my dressing gown?”

  The thought had bothered her a few times when she’d woken up during the night.

  “We had an argument.” He closed his eyes. “And you wanted your own chamber.”

  She sat silently. What was so horrible that it would have sent her running from the room after being married only one day?

  “What were we arguing about?” She wished she could summon the reason herself.

  The cat, Archie, hopped off the chair where he’d been perched, and then jumped onto the bed and settled on Rock’s lap.

  Rock’s hand looked large and strong as he stroked the cat’s loose but downy skin. “You are determined to dress Archimedes like a baby. I told you it was emasculating.”

  “We were arguing over the cat?” This was hard to believe.

  He moved Archie onto the bed and then crossed the room to a pile of packages stacked in the corner. After rummaging through a few of them, he lifted out a lacy gown, made for either a doll or…

  A cat.

  And the cat did appear almost indecent in his nakedness… It was not that outrageous for her to have wanted to clothe him.

  “You can be obstinate when you want to be…” Her husband pulled out a second garment, this one a delicate pink.

  “Oh…” She blushed. “Still, it seems petty of me.”

  Rock’s eyes shuttered as he rose, the lacy costumes looking conspicuously feminine in his capable-looking hands.

  “Not petty. I never should have let you leave the room like that.”

  “I’m sorry. For arguing with you over something so ridiculous. Will you forgive me?”

  He tossed the little dresses onto the table and then rubbed a hand through his hair. “You’ve nothing to be sorry about. Tabetha. You need to know…” He returned and lowered himself onto the bed again.

  “Then we will put it behind us.” Her hand went up to halt any more apologies.

  She glanced down at the floor where the cat was grooming himself and swallowed hard. Rock was all she had for now. He was her entire world.

  Regardless of anything he could say, her tumble down the stairs had been nothing more than an accident. She wished she understood him better so that she would know what to say to absolve him of guilt—something to prove that she didn’t blame him.

  Almost before forming her thought, an idea came to mind.

  She swallowed another drink of water and then set the glass aside. He was her husband, after all.

  Inspired by her feline friend, she leaned forward and crawled to the end of the bed to where Rock sat.

  He stared at her cautiously but she wasn’t going to let that deter her. In all likelihood, he only felt that way because he considered her injured and fragile. He was heroic like that.

  But she didn’t feel at all fragile.

  She halted and then kneeled before him on the mattress. “Will you kiss me?” She would have initiated the kiss herself, but she was not that bold. She tilted her head. “We are newly married, are we not?”

  A rueful grin tipped up the corners of his lips. “We are.”

  “I won’t break. I’m well on the mend.” She scooted closer and landed one hand on his shoulder. A thrill shot through her at the hardness of his muscles, and she couldn’t help but massage the sinewy cords with her fingertips.

  His skin broke into gooseflesh.

  “Am I not a stranger to you?” He met her gaze, looking almost pained. So very much the gentleman. He was so very honorable. Was it possible he feared that his kiss would frighten her? The poor, dear, foolish numbskull of a man.

  “You are not a stranger. You are my husband.” Her voice caught. “You are my Rock.” And feeling no fear, no discomfort or embarrassment, Tabetha leaned forward and pressed her lips against his.

  Chapter 11

  Rationalizing

  At the first touch of her lips, Stone didn’t move. Instead, he steeled the inappropriate desires that roared to life, hoping she would become shy and push away.

  She did not become shy.

  Nor did she give up easily. She parted her lips, and he responded instinctively.

  He’d give her this kiss. Finch had instructed him to keep her happy—not to upset her. Who was he to deny her anything?

  Her mouth tasted sweet, reminding him of candy, and her lips were soft—and plump. And more talented than he’d have imagined with her limited experience.

  When her slender arms curled around his neck, the image of a seemingly innocent spider weaving her web flashed through his mind. Because she felt like silk beneath his hands, luring him into her trap.

  And succeeding.

  Fire and confusion swept through him. Fire, because his blood flowed hot with desire. Confusion, because his body was taunting him. This was Tabetha! The woman who’d made herself the bane of his existence these past weeks.

  The woman who’d scoffed his very existence as beneath her notice—who’d only ever valued gentlemen of rank.

  And yet the desire that came to life had him wondering if he’d wanted her all along—just like this—warm, willing.

  In bed, beneath him, surrounding him.

  This was everything a kiss should be—hot, demanding, searching, fulfilling one promise even as another unfolded. And now his racing heart matched the throbbing in his cock. A tortured groan rumbled through the room. The groan came from him.

  “Rock,” she pleaded. “Rock.”

  Rock!

  He tore his mouth away from hers, gasping. She believed she was kissing her loving husband—Rock Chester. It was all a lie. He was her husband, yes, but the rest of it was make-believe.

  He couldn’t do this. She is not herself.

  He was the only person who could anchor her to the world she’d forgotten. She depended on him. She trusted him.

  But most of what he’d told her had been lies.

  He struggled to catch his breath at the same time she tucked her face against his shoulder.

  “I knew it would be good but it’s even better than I thought. I’m so glad I’m your wife.” She tilted her head back and gaze
d at him again, raw emotion showing in her eyes. “That felt like a first kiss—our second first kiss.”

  Her fingertips danced along his jaw, stroking his beard, exploring, claiming an intimacy that shouldn’t exist between them.

  Stone needed to slow her down and yet he rationalized that she wanted him, they were legally married, and perhaps…

  She deserved this.

  For as long as he’d known her, she’d dismissed any man who didn’t hold a title. She’d mocked him for being his father’s spare.

  So why did she claim that her heart recognized him? Had she been attracted to him before, or was this supposed affection the only way her brain could cope with her loss of memory?

  It had to be. The real Lady Tabetha never would have been so openly demonstrative.

  Not to him, anyhow.

  She trailed a gentle hand to the bare skin of his chest. He was only half-dressed, and she wore nothing but a night rail.

  A thin and silky night rail.

  Sitting together like this, it was almost as though they really were husband and wife.

  “What was it like? The first time you kissed me before?”

  I’m going to go to hell for this.

  He’d always suspected she could be sweet like this, alluring and seductive. He’d just never imagined he’d be on the receiving end of it.

  But how was he supposed to answer such a question?

  “You set me on fire,” he admitted. “I knew I had to have you.”

  Amazing that in this he was at least being partially honest. He cleared his throat. He was growing surprisingly partial to having her in his arms.

  She held his gaze, her pupils growing larger, her breaths shorter.

  Warning bells sounded, likely his conscience.

  “And now you can,” she said.

  Stone tucked her head below his chin, stroking her disheveled hair.

  No way in hell was any of this going to end well. Unless she never regained her memory, that was. He froze at the thought. Such a scenario posed altogether different complications.

  He was not Rock Chester, nor was she Mrs. Tabetha Chester. At some point in time over the next fifty or so years, she would no doubt discover these facts.

  And then it wouldn’t matter that she was, in fact, Mrs. Spencer. She wouldn’t care that they were legally married.

  But this… holding her. Kissing her. Her wanting him to make love to her… None of this was real.

  She was grasping at a fantasy. Once she realized the true nature of their relationship, she’d no doubt hate him more than ever. She would regret moments like this, and damn his eyes, she would resent him.

  And yet, she was the one making advances.

  She seemed to actually need this… need him.

  Tabetha was putting him between a rock and a hard place—a painfully hard place.

  If he resisted her, she would suspect their marriage wasn’t the safe harbor she believed, which, according to the doctor, could possibly harm her recovery. Thinking herself in love might be the one thing preventing her from flailing in despair.

  He smoothed a hand down the gentle curve of her back.

  He needed to provide her with just enough affection that she didn’t doubt she had a loving husband. A kiss here, a gentle caress there…

  And as far as making love to her…

  He wasn’t a randy youth. He could keep his urges in check.

  And once her memory returned, he would explain that he’d simply played the part she had needed him to play. Essentially, he was merely following the doctor’s orders. That was it! Doctor’s orders.

  “Rock?” She pulled away and licked her lips. They were sitting on a bed. She believed they were in love and newly married.

  There was no mistaking her invitation.

  “Doctor Finch.” Stone cleared his throat. “He advised against marital relations until…” He searched his mind. “For at least a week.”

  That ought to buy him plenty of time. He’d have not only delivered her back to her family but likely she’d regain her memory by then.

  An annulment must remain a viable resolution to their predicament.

  She pouted prettily. “But I feel perfectly fine.” Twin vertical lines appeared between her eyes. Damn, he’d known she was beautiful, but to have her focus her charms on him sucked the air out of his lungs.

  He grazed the backs of his fingers along her delicate cheek. “I refuse to compromise your health. No matter how much I want you.” This, at least, was true. Even if everything else was a lie.

  Until she realized the true nature of their relationship, he’d do what he could to keep her from becoming upset.

  Disappointment clouded her eyes. And something else… vulnerability.

  He tipped her chin up so she had nowhere to look but at him. “Never doubt that I want you, though.”

  He’d have thought she would blush and drop her lashes, but she met his gaze boldly. “I want you too. I’ll simply have to settle for more kisses over the next six days.” She grinned impishly. “And as your bride, I shall expect lots and lots of those.”

  “Seven days,” he corrected her.

  “Six and a half.”

  God help him.

  He leaned forward and claimed her vexing little mouth. He savored her sweet taste and perfume... distinctly woman. Hungry for more, he nipped at her bottom lip, and then her tongue, even clashing with her teeth. All the while, he cradled her cheeks in his hands. He could not explore her curves or test the weight of her breasts.

  Blood roared through his brain and then… lower. How would she respond to a much more intimate kiss? Would she writhe beneath him? Would she clutch the sides of his head, begging for more?

  Desire thrumming through his veins, Stone plundered her mouth, thrusting his tongue against hers, and then past it, mimicking what he wanted to do between her legs.

  She sighed, and moaned, her tiny hands clutching his wrists now. Damnation, but this was a tortured combination of heaven and hell. He never would have guessed that self-denial could arouse him to this extent.

  Although, in truth, it wasn’t self-denial.

  It was self-preservation.

  Chapter 12

  Jonquil and Primrose

  Tabetha smoothed the coverlet. Rock had slept in the same bed with her again, he’d even held her for a while, and they’d kissed.

  She fanned her hand in front of her face… Because…

  Those kisses!

  She frowned.

  Afterward, he’d placed a pillow between the two of them, insistent that they hold firm to following Dr. Finch’s orders. She’d lain awake for what felt like hours before she’d been able to fall asleep.

  Rock hadn’t allowed her to venture outside of her chamber yet, even to dine downstairs, adamantly maintaining that she needed quiet and rest.

  Although he’d slipped outside a few times the previous day, he never abandoned her for long. They’d made the most of a deck of cards he’d purchased. He’d even tried to teach her how to play chess—a game that baffled her completely.

  She glanced toward the door, the lock slid firmly in place. Her husband, who was inordinately protective of her, had insisted she only open the door for him. Surely, they would venture outside together after he returned.

  Tabetha trailed her fingers along the bodice of her gown.

  Apparently, she had lost her valise, along with all her belongings on their journey to Gretna Green. Which seemed odd, but Rock had explained that it had fallen off of the mail coach. He’d taken her shopping shortly after they’d arrived.

  Upon opening the boxes, she was delighted to learn that not only did she have a most adoring and generous husband, but that she herself had excellent taste. The purchases included two fashionable gowns, underthings to go with them, and all manner of accessories.

  A married couple now, they would not return to London in the same manner they’d left. Earlier that morning, Stone had gone in search of a conv
eyance they could rent so that she would be comfortable, and so that they would not be beholden to anyone’s schedule but their own. And although her brother, mother, and sister would be anxious for their return, Stone said it was more important that they travel at a pace she was comfortable with.

  Mrs. Hettrick, the innkeeper’s wife, had gone out of her way to assist her. She’d not only had hot water sent up for a bath, but had also excused Wilma from her morning chores so she could assist Tabetha with her bath and then help her dress and fix her hair.

  Looking her best was almost as good as getting her memory back.

  Tabetha leaned forward, studying her reflection in the small looking glass that she’d propped up on the bureau again, and bit her lip.

  Nothing was as wonderful as Rock’s kisses. Even the thought of them had her skin flushing pink. What had making love been like? He was a passionate man. She felt it vibrating beneath his calm and it… excited her.

  No wonder she’d fallen in love with him. He bought her gifts, held her when she needed comforting, cared for her health, and even though she knew he wanted to make love to her, refrained in deference to her doctor’s orders. Nothing in the world could convince her that she hadn’t married the perfect gentleman.

  She almost didn’t want to go back to London, which didn’t make sense. She ought to be more concerned about learning who she was than getting to know this man she’d married.

  But she was happy. So, so happy. It was ironic, really.

  She twirled one way, and then the other, billowing the skirts of the pale sprig muslin she’d chosen to wear that day. It felt heavenly to be changed out of her nightclothes.

  “What do you think, Archie? Will he like it?” she asked the cat.

  Archie glared at her and then went back to clawing and chewing at the pink gown she’d dressed him in that morning. Much more of that and she’d need to secure it with a ribbon.

  “It’s for your own good. Running about naked like that isn’t at all proper.” She wagged a finger and then turned back to stare at her reflection.

  A knock sent her heart leaping. Because it would be him. A last quick glance in the mirror and she padded across the room and slid the locks back.