Cocky Baron: Regency Cocky Gents (Book 2) Read online

  Bethany trailed her lips back to the tip and clasped them around him again. She sucked him in, reminded of the cigar.

  Breathing through her nose, filling herself with his essence, she wanted more of him. She willingly gave, as she took him into her mouth, as she’d take him into her body.

  The similarities of this act to their consummation spiked her own desire. Her confidence growing, she grazed the silky wand along the roof of her mouth toward the back of her throat. She slid it out and then in again, teasing him the way he’d teased her the night before. He had played with her entrance, the quivering flesh that beckoned him inside.

  His hips moved with her now, his muscles flexing against her breasts and beneath her arms and hands.

  “Bethany.” He released her hair, pumping himself into her mouth.

  She barely recognized her name, his voice gravelly and strained. Was she doing this right? He hadn’t stopped her. Was it too much?

  She took a moment to glance up at him and nearly faltered at what she saw.

  One fist clenched against his mouth, eyes pinched shut and… tears streaming down his face.

  She closed her own eyes, allowing him the privacy he needed and then took him even deeper into the channel of her throat.

  She would provide him relief. He needed this.

  And oddly enough, she needed it too.

  He’d shared a deeply held secret and she had the ability to comfort him. It was her purpose in life. It was her calling. Giving was the one thing she had power over.

  He’d told her to keep her love to herself because he hadn’t understood that love went both ways. It meant having the capacity to give as well as the ability to take. He hadn’t realized that she could never be happy simply being protected or cared for.

  I need to give. I need to matter.

  He didn’t always have to be the protector, the comforter. She appreciated he wasn’t only sheltering her from the ton, and from nasty gossip, but he’d wanted to protect her from himself.

  Her throat convulsed but Bethany continued, allowing moisture from her mouth to ease his way.

  If possible, he’d grown larger, harder, and this incited her to lap at him with greater enthusiasm. He was close. He needed this. He needed her. This was all she’d ever wanted.

  His hands clamped onto her shoulder, and with a sudden jerk, he moved to push her off and away.

  To protect her, once again, from himself.

  She held tight instead, outlasting his efforts to spare her. As he throbbed inside her mouth, Bethany experienced a moment of fear, of panic, but it just as quickly went away. She didn’t let up her hold until all of the tension flowed out of him. Feeling protective, she swallowed, released him and then rested her cheek on his lap.

  Life presented one with moments to give and moments to take. As his wife, she wanted to embrace both. She marveled at how naïve she’d been before all of this happened. She had not understood love at all.

  They’d not been married even a week. How much more of love was there to learn? A tear trailed down her cheek, but it wasn’t because she was sad.

  It was because she was alive.

  Chapter 27

  Damn Blackheart!

  Chase had no idea how much time passed before he landed on earth again. Nor did he understand how it was that he felt empty and yet overflowing at the same time.

  And shaken.

  His hand rested in Bethany’s hair. Silky, soft, curling tendrils he was becoming increasingly familiar with.

  “Bethany?” His voice caught. She’d humbled him. Again. “Are you all right?”

  She sat upright, resting on her heels. He could barely make out dried streaks on her face, left from the salt of her tears. When he reached out to touch the corner of her eye, she shook her head.

  “I’m fine. Please. Please, don’t apologize. I’ve… never felt anything like this. Like I matter. Please, don’t take that away from me.”

  Her words broke through his last argument, and he scooped her up onto his lap, tucking himself away in the process.

  Like she mattered? Of course she mattered.

  Who was this precious person he’d married?

  “I won’t. I promise. I won’t,” he vowed.

  Her hair tickled the side of his face when she snuggled against him.

  Damn, Blackheart had been right.

  With Bethany at his side, in this moment anyhow, he felt like he could take on the world.

  “I like this.” Chase soothed her hair with one of his hands. “Holding you.” When he was in the company of Stone, Greys, Mantis, Peter, and even Blackheart, he pretended all was right with the world. All day he’d felt off-balance—until now, that was.

  “I do too.” Her breath whispered against his neck.

  “I thought you were leaving me. The things I said…”

  “You don’t have to explain.”

  He squeezed her. He wanted to promise that it wouldn’t happen again. With her in his arms, he could almost believe it. “I don’t want to lose you.” He’d found something special—someone special—and needed to fight to keep her. Even if that fight was with himself.

  She squirmed and sat back. “Did you see your sisters today? I was thinking… Remember when Lady Rockingham sponsored Lady Darlington in society, but then Lady Danbury’s mother exposed her as a maid? The plan would have gone perfectly if not for Baroness Crone. What if I sponsored your oldest sister, but we said she was your cousin? Couldn’t Blackheart have some papers made up for them? Seeing as you’ve kept the secret so well…”

  Chase raised his brows. She wanted to discuss… his sisters?

  “It’s possible, I suppose. We can explore the idea. It wouldn’t be without risk—for them and for you…” And his mother. But for some reason, the normal flash of fear didn’t strike at the thought. His mother wasn’t the same person she’d been ten years ago. Was she stronger? Or did he feel differently because he wasn’t alone in this secret? “I actually didn’t go by Farm Street today.”

  She had every right to ask him where he’d gone but she didn’t.

  “I ran.” He’d share himself this way. After all he’d told her, this didn’t seem nearly so difficult. “And then I went to Knight Manor. Spent much of the day—”

  “Drinking?” She inhaled, and then sniffed the lapels of his jacket before leaning back, a teasing glint in her eyes. “And smoking and making wagers?”

  “You know me too well.” This was a new sort of intimacy for the two of them. Perhaps compromising hadn’t been such a terrible thing after all. Which reminded him. “Your brother is expected in London any day.”

  “And Charley,” Bethany added, although that went without saying. “I feel guilty that they’ve cut their honeymoon short because of me. I begged Mother not to send word. It wasn’t necessary.”

  “None of it is your fault,” Chase insisted. He didn’t need to tell her that he had sent for her brother. Marriage or not, he and Westerley were going to have to hash this out. He had no doubt that would only be accomplished on a field of honor at dawn.

  She slid one arm around his neck while absentmindedly stroking his chest with her other hand. And then, presumably, counting his buttons.

  She could count his buttons anytime.

  She frowned but then met his eyes. “Will you promise me something?”

  He wanted to promise her the world but wasn’t so arrogant to think he could give it to her. “You need to tell me what it is first.”

  She nodded. “If Westerly calls you out, if he challenges you to a duel, promise me you’ll decline? Please?”

  Such a notion was akin to fingernails being dragged along a chalkboard. Refusing to defend one’s honor would emasculate the most giant of men. Hell, he’d be more ruined than she had nearly been.

  Worse than that, it would be an unforgivable insult to her brother. And to her.

  “He won’t. I won’t let him.” Chase had married her. The scandal had already been dealt with to
everyone’s satisfaction. He’d do his best to talk sense into Westerley. He had to.

  “It’s just that…” Bethany bit her lip. “He is my brother and you’re my husband and I love … and I love him. I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to either one of you.”

  “It won’t come to that.” Chase smoothed the muscles along the back of her neck.

  “After what happened with my father—what with Westerley thinking his death was all his fault—I’m not sure he’ll be thinking clearly.”

  “It could have happened to anyone, and we’ve all told him as much.”

  “Westerley won’t listen to me either. If it’s anyone’s fault, it’s mine.”

  “Greys thinks—wait. What do you mean it’s your fault?”

  Her fingers trailed up and down the lapel of his jacket. “You probably don’t remember, but it was the year of my come-out.”

  “I remember. Three years ago.”

  She swallowed hard and stared unfocused at something behind him. “My brother arrived late to my debut ball, and when he finally made an appearance, he was foxed, worse than that, he was drunk as a wheelbarrow. He said things to one of the other young ladies… I was embarrassed and I…I complained about his behavior to my father. My father promised he’d take him in hand and true to his word, he took steps to rein him in. He cut Westerley’s allowance, canceled memberships at a few of his clubs. Unfortunately, he also became involved in one of my brothers… affairs… I overheard him telling my mother that he’d had a talk with the lady’s husband—suggested the man keep a closer eye on her. But instead of removing his wife to the country, the cuckold called Jules out. Why else would my father act as his second?”

  “Does Westerley know this?”

  “Oh, no. I couldn’t say anything. It would only make it worse. But the truth of the matter, Chase, is that if I hadn’t been so selfish, none of it would have happened. So please, please, promise me you won’t meet him at dawn?”

  He remembered again how withdrawn she’d become at the time. “Your father’s death wasn’t your fault.”

  “But I—”

  Chase cut her off the best way he knew how. With a kiss.

  “I’ll not have you disparaging my wife.” He spoke against her lips, losing interest in the conversation when he realized the salty taste in her mouth was from him.

  He deepened the kiss and drew her closer.

  She didn’t require much coaxing at all.

  Chapter 28

  Sisters

  “I was going to wear this gown, but Delia told me Coleus Mossant wore a similar one to Lucinda and Lydia’s ball. So I’ve decided on this one instead.” Tabetha tucked a pale rose gown beneath her chin and lifted out the skirts. “Such a bother, but I can’t wear something so similar to a gown another lady already wore. Not for my debut!”

  “You are lovely enough you don’t need to worry about that ever happening.” Perched on the small bench near the vanity, Bethany watched her sister fuss and fidget, all the while experiencing a warm inner glow.

  For the first time since entering society, Bethany wasn’t worrying about looking frumpy or out of place at a ton event. Her husband’s attention didn’t seem to be affected by the color of gown she wore or if her hair was fancy enough, in fact, he seemed most amorous when she wore nothing at all.

  Chase had woken early that morning and he’d invited Bethany to come along to meet his sisters. His invitation had thrilled her, but she had already promised Tabetha she’d come over early, to help keep her calm for the evening ahead.

  She’d very nearly canceled on her sister, as eager as she was to meet Collette, Diana, and Sarah, but Chase had told her not to worry. He’d promised he’d take her some morning later that week. “We have all the time in the world,” he’d assured her, right before sweeping her into his arms for a long, slow kiss that nearly delayed his departure altogether. He was insatiable.

  He made her insatiable too.

  After he’d left, Bethany had stared at the door and then sprawled on the bed again. The moment before she drifted to sleep, she realized the feeling in her heart was happiness. And having experienced the phenomenon herself, she wanted everyone around her to feel the same.

  “Of course, it matters, you ninny.” Tabetha’s protests brought Bethany back to the question at hand. “It goes without saying that I could easily marry a Mister or, no offense—even a baron—wearing any of my older gowns. But if I’m to land a duke, I have to be perfect.”

  “Titles aren’t everything. Be careful, promise me?” Bethany had thought she’d known all there was to know about Chase but there had been so much more. She was utterly grateful that everything she’d learned revealed a greater depth to his character. Familiarity could just as easily go the other way. “Take your time. You needn’t rush.”

  “Just as you did?” Tabetha was only half-teasing when she smirked at her from across the room. “How long have you loved him? Hm…” Tabetha made some calculating motions with her fingers. “Fourteen, fifteen years?”

  Actually, it had been twelve.

  “My situation has no bearing on yours. I was lucky—very lucky. I just…” All the things Chase had told her about his father came to mind. The man had fooled his own family right up until his death. “A moral mister is far better than a disreputable duke.”

  Tabetha giggled. “Next you’ll be telling me to settle for a principled pauper.”

  “You know my meaning.”

  Tabetha carefully laid the gown on her bed and then joined Bethany at the vanity. “I much prefer your hair looser. You’re a baroness now—not some spinster.” She played with a few curls and began rearranging some of the pins Polly had placed earlier.

  Bethany closed her eyes, feeling sleepy while Tabetha fussed with her hair. It was something her sister had done for as long as she could remember… when she was bored, anxious, or nervous.

  Replaying moments from the night before, Bethany bit back a secret smile.

  “Mother got word from Westerley. He’s cut their travels short and plans to be in London before week’s end.” Tabetha’s announcement ought to have been a happy one. Bethany had missed her brother and she’d even missed Charley, his new wife. But he’d no doubt feel it his duty to weigh in on the entire spanking incident.

  “You don’t think he’s going to make a fuss about…” Bethany met Tabitha’s stare in the mirror. “Not now that we’re married.”

  Tabetha shrugged. “When Mother sent word to him, she was outraged. We can only hope someone explains the situation to him first thing when he arrives.” Her eyes widened. “You don’t think he’d call Chaswick out, do you?”

  Bethany hated that she wasn’t the only person who considered this a valid possibility. “I asked Chaswick to promise me that if Westerly does, he’ll refuse.”

  “What did he say?”

  “He said…” Bethany lowered her brows. He had promised he wouldn’t, hadn’t he? Bethany’s heart skipped a beat. “He told me not to worry.”

  Tabetha huffed. “It’s not as though any man could agree to such a request. No matter how much he enjoys… spanking you.” Tabetha grinned but at Bethany’s scowl became serious again. “It wasn’t a fair thing to ask, Beth. No gentleman of honor could refuse a challenge—not if he intends to hold his head up amongst his peers.”

  Bethany had realized this but the two would-be combatants were her brother and her husband. Surely, that ought to nullify some of that gentlemanly honor business. “But they are good friends,” she insisted weakly, perhaps more to reassure herself than to convince Tabetha.

  “Which, in Westerley’s eyes, possibly renders the spanking incident even worse.”

  S-p-a-n-k-i-n-g. Eight. D-u-e-l. Four. Dead brother. Ten. Dead husband. Eleven. Darkness encroached on her vision, and her stays suddenly felt as though they were crushing her ribs.

  “What’s the matter?” Tabetha’s voice sounded far away.

  “Can’t,” she gasped. “Breathe.”
She reached for the back of her gown but Tabetha pushed her hands away, and within moments, she was untied and unbuttoned. Gasping for air, Bethany dropped her head between her knees, drawing in gulping breaths, vaguely aware of Tabetha kneeling beside her.

  “It’ll be all right. Beth. Westerley would never do anything that would make you unhappy.” A cool, wet, lavender-smelling cloth was placed in Bethany’s hands. “I’m fairly certain, anyhow. He does have issues with the whole dueling business. Ever since Papa…”

  “But that wasn’t his fault!”

  “Of course, it wasn’t his fault. You and I both know that. But he doesn’t.”

  “This isn’t helping.” But Bethany was sitting up again. She’d broken into a cold sweat.

  Her best course of action was to get to her brother before her brother got to Chase. Having married, surely, Westerley would understand that she was happy and in love. Chase hadn’t spoken the words back to her, but she felt… something from him. Tenderness. Affection.

  She could almost embrace hope.

  With that decided, Bethany straightened her spine. Without fail, she would get to Westerley first.

  “Well, seeing as big brother won’t be back for a few days yet, it doesn’t do any good to worry over it now.” Tabetha crossed the room and crouched down. “Especially when I have far other, much more important matters to consider.”

  “Such as?”

  “Which shoes I ought to wear tonight! Should I wear the satin or the soft leather?”

  “We missed you yesterday, Chase.” Collette served his morning hot chocolate as graceful as any titled lady and then lowered herself onto the wooden chair across from where he sat with Sarah curled up beside him.

  “Don’t listen to her, we know you have a life apart from us.” Diana wasn’t one to hold her tongue. “A rather glamorous life, if I say so myself. No doubt you’ll be taking your wife to her sister’s debut tonight?”