Claiming His Bride Read online

  Evernight Publishing

  www.evernightpublishing.com

  Copyright© 2013 Marie Medina

  ISBN: 978-1-77130-289-0

  Cover Artist: Sour Cherry Designs

  Editor: JS Cook

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  DEDICATION

  To Howard, who seems to have developed a passion for historical romances.

  CLAIMING HIS BRIDE

  Marie Medina

  Copyright © 2013

  Chapter One

  Spring of 1897, London

  Victoria tried very hard to avoid Bastian’s gaze during the reception, but every time she turned around, she found him looking at her. She felt as if he were circling the room, purposely trying to stay in her line of sight. She looked down at the rings on her left hand. So now they were married. She sighed.

  She’d always been given her older sister Isabella’s hand-me-downs and cast offs, but she’d never expected to be handed down a husband. However, she’d been given very little choice. Her father, a bankrupt baron, needed the Earl’s money, and the marriage to his only son had been the security the Earl had wanted for the loan. The Earl and his wife wanted grandchildren, and since they only had one child, the Earl had been obsessed with marrying Bastian off.

  The engagement had been announced, and the wedding set for two months later. However, her sister had been unable to fit into her wedding dress two weeks before the ceremony because she was very obviously with child. And it was not Bastian’s, as he had only returned from four months of visiting family in Italy two days before the very revealing dress fitting. Isabella had been sent to a cousin in Wales to have the baby, and Victoria had been literally ordered to prepare herself for married life.

  The Earl had insisted that Bastian was pleased because he had said upon returning from Italy that he would have “been happier with the sweet, pretty sister.” The well-meaning Earl had reported this with a smile moments before Bastian had entered the room the day the new wedding plans had been settled. He’d obviously thought sweet and pretty were high compliments, but she’d been called sweet and pretty all of her life. The words fell flat on her ears because her sister had always been called beautiful, enchanting, captivating, and breathtaking. Her sharp tongue and fiery temper had earned her both a reputation and an eager train of suitors. Obviously, though she’d treated most of them with disdain, one of those suitors had been to her liking. Her sister still hadn’t said who the child’s father was, but if they were in love, as Isabella insisted, Victoria believed he would reveal himself when he learned Isabella had left London.

  “My lady, would you care to dance?” came a whisper in her ear.

  She turned, clasping her hands together to dispel the shiver that had gone up her spine. She nodded and slid her hand into Bastian’s. She couldn’t refuse her new husband a dance at their wedding reception with two hundred people watching, no matter how wary she was of him. She hardly knew him, and his quiet intensity had always intimidated her.

  He led her to the center of the room, and then the music began again. “Am I so unattractive you can’t even stand to look at me as we dance?” he teased.

  She raised her eyes, his light and playful tone surprising her. “I’m sorry.” He wasn’t unattractive at all. He towered over every person in the room, and his healthy complexion and dark hair and eyes had more than enough appeal. His lean, muscular form left little to be desired as well. “Can you blame me for being uncomfortable?”

  He frowned. “Why are you uncomfortable?” he asked as they spun amidst the other couples coming onto the floor with them. “What can I do to remedy it?”

  She couldn’t keep from furrowing her brow and letting every ounce of her confusion show. “I don’t think you understand. I’ve been sold to you, to your family, all because my father needs money, your father wants grandchildren, and my sister is foolish.”

  His frown deepened, reaching his eyes. “So you aren’t simply shy or nervous? You truly didn’t want this.”

  She felt her face flame. “May we discuss this in private? I shouldn’t have said anything. I let my frustration get the better of me. I’m all nerves today, my lord.”

  “All right. And please call me Bastian. I don’t want to be ‘my lorded’ by my own wife. Will you allow me to say one last thing though?”

  She nodded.

  “I’m sorry this has made you unhappy, but I was relieved to learn I wouldn’t have to marry your sister. I couldn’t stand her.”

  “So you were forced into this as well?”

  He shook his head. “No. My objection was not to getting married—it was to your sister. I told my father I would marry you gladly.”

  “Marry me?”

  “Yes.”

  “But I was not the original bride.”

  He smiled and leaned close. “I had every intention of running away, my dear. I have a fortune of my own, and I don’t like to be told what to do. I was thrilled to learn your sister was no longer qualified to seal this deal.”

  “What?” she whispered, darting looks around to see if anyone was listening.

  “My father and I get along very well in public, but in private we are constantly at odds. I refused to marry your sister. He kept insisting I had no choice. He told me all the details of the deal, and I told him I would agree if I could marry you instead. He told me to forget you because Isabella had to marry first. I was already making plans to flee. But then, fortune smiled on me.”

  “What man would choose me over my sister?” she said before she could stop the words. Then she gasped at her forwardness and lack of manners, and her face flamed again.

  He actually laughed. “A man with a brain. Your sister is a shrew, but you are charming.”

  They’d known each other for years, but until today, they had only had half a dozen conversations. “Oh.”

  “Is that the best reaction I’m going to get?”

  “Yes.” She gathered her thoughts, wanting to change the subject to hide her embarrassment. “Where would you have gone?”

  “Some place exotic.” The dance ended, and he led her to the balcony. “We can still go, if you like. Would you like an exciting honeymoon, Victoria?”

  She felt a strange flutter in her stomach at his words. “Whatever has been planned for us is fine.”

  “Nothing has been planned. I told father we would both be exhausted, so we’ll stay in a hotel here in London until you decide what you want.”

  She pulled her arm from his and just barely made it to a bench.

  “I suppose I’m overwhelming you.” He sat beside her.

  “I’ve been beyond overwhelmed for the past two weeks.”

  “However will you make it to the morning then?” he whispered, his voice warm and seductive.

  She sat perfectly still as his words washed over her.

  He leaned in closer. “I had every intention of leaving your sister standing at the altar, but watching you walk down the aisle sent quite a thrill through me.”

  She swallowed, but she couldn’t have spoken if she’d had to.

  “You’re worth ten of your sister, Victoria. Your hair is beautiful, all the rich reds and browns of an autumn day, and your constantly lowered lids cannot hide your lovely brown eyes. This marriage will not be in name only. I’m not going to fall at y
our feet and pretend I’m madly in love with you, but I would not have been in the church today if I had any objections to taking you into my home or my bed. You’re going to receive a very warm welcome in both.”

  His hand slid over hers, and she stood up quickly, pulling away and supporting herself on the balcony railing.

  “Please get me some punch, Bastian. I’m a bit parched.”

  He stood as well and drew close to her. Leaning forward, he brushed a kiss across her cheek. “Very well, my dear.”

  She stared down at the street as he walked away. Her mind raced, trying to reconcile her earlier expectations with the ones Bastian’s words now inspired. For once, was she going to be grateful for a mess her sister had gotten her into?

  ****

  Bastian had been waiting for Victoria to emerge from the bathroom for over an hour. He’d intended to put her at ease and inspire her. He could only conclude he had failed. However, all her pretty blushes and gasps and wide-eyed stares throughout the afternoon told him she was nervous, not fearful. Tired of waiting, he opened the bathroom door, thankful it hadn’t been locked. It gave him hope she wasn’t dead set on leaving him cold and alone on his wedding night.

  Victoria sat in a tub full of lavender-tinted water and stared at him with her mouth hanging open. She immediately drew her legs up to her breasts. “Do you mind?” she said sharply.

  “I do. You’re going to catch a cold.” He sat on the edge of the large claw foot tub and ran his hand through the water. “As lovely as the fragrance of bath salts is, I can’t believe you’d prefer sitting in tepid water to coming to bed with me.”

  “I certainly didn’t say that, did I?” She drew her legs closer though and made no move to rise from the water.

  He pulled the drain from the tub and stood to unfold a large towel for her. “Out. I’ve seen it all by now and will be getting a much closer look soon, so no need to be shy.”

  After a moment, she stood and stepped out of the tub, turning her back to him and drawing the towel around her. Then he swept her up into his arms, making her squeal.

  “I was hoping for a contented sigh the first time I took you into my arms.”

  She lowered her eyes, her breasts heaving, the nipples almost peeking out of the towel.

  “Stop worrying, Victoria. You aren’t a piece of chattel that was sold off.” He placed a tender kiss on her forehead. “You’re a treasure that is about to be cherished all night long.”

  He swiftly carried her to the bed and placed her in the middle of it. He turned down the gaslights, leaving only a candle by the bed lit as he stripped the final pieces of his clothing off.

  She watched him, her eyes no longer lowered.

  Her curiosity both aroused and pleased him. “Am I less frightening in the dark?” he asked as he climbed onto the bed, not missing the way her eyes shyly took in every inch of him.

  She looked into his eyes. “I’m not frightened,” she murmured.

  “Then why are you trembling?” He drew the towel down and trailed kisses over the tops of her breasts. His tongue circled her nipple, making her sigh as he straddled her.

  “I’m cold,” she said, her reply barely audible.

  “Good thing I pulled you out of that bath when I did then.” He parted the towel, kissing his way down her body. She gasped when he kissed her stomach. He licked her thigh, and she tensed beneath him. He hitched her leg up and parted the delicate curls to touch her clitoris.

  “This is a very special spot, my dear. I’ll be spending a lot of time here.” He began making slow circles with his finger, briefly dipping it lower and smiling to find her quim wet. As he watched her reactions, his cock hardened almost to the point of pain, a dull ache of longing settling in his groin. She stared up at the ceiling, and she seemed to be struggling to keep her breathing steady, but despite this effort, her breasts heaved beautifully. He moved up her body to draw one nipple into his mouth.

  She gasped and arched against his hand, her juices coating his fingers as he drove her higher and higher. He captured her mouth with his, their first real kiss. This embrace was quite different from the cold brush of lips she’d offered during the wedding ceremony. She opened to him completely as her arms moved up his back. She moaned, and he felt her sex quiver as she found her release. He slowed his movements, cupping her sex and massaging it.

  “Oh God,” she cried when he finally broke off the kiss.

  “I’d prefer a less exalted pet name, but call me anything you like, my sweet,” he said as he moved back down her body.

  She giggled. “Why are you so serious around everyone else?” She sat up a little, still catching her breath. “I’ve never seen you act this way before. You like teasing me. You seem determined to make me laugh.”

  “That is not my main focus at this moment though.” He kissed her stomach and thoroughly enjoyed the way she trembled when his lips brushed the soft skin.

  Her expression sobered, then softened. “I expected you to be very serious, intense. I suppose I was a little frightened of you at first.”

  “And now?” He met her gaze and held it as his mouth hovered close to its goal.

  She shook her head, giving him a smile before demurely shifting her gaze.

  “Good.” He lowered his head, spreading her nether lips and tasting her.

  She gasped, but then she gave him another delighted moan.

  ****

  Victoria collapsed back on the mattress, both shocked and elated. Her sister had told her quite a bit about sex, more than she’d cared to know at the time, but she’d never expected that a man would want to do any of those decadent things to her. She felt Bastian’s tongue sliding in and out of her. His fingers toyed with her as well, spreading her as he licked. His mouth focused at the top of her sex again, and before long another orgasm took her. She writhed beneath him, feeling too good to care what he thought of her.

  He moved up her body and kissed her hungrily. She loved the feel of his hard body against hers. As he nudged her legs apart, she clung to him more fiercely. He feathered kisses across her face and smoothed her hair, whispering very tender words, the kind of words a man whispered to a real bride, not one given as collateral. Tears formed in her eyes.

  “Don’t cry, my dear. I won’t hurt you.” The pained look in his eyes pierced her heart.

  “I’m happy,” she whispered. “I expected tonight to be … an unpleasant duty.”

  He kissed the tears away, moving his body against hers. She felt his shaft running against her sex; he was thick and hard. He continued his soft kisses as he entered her. She tried to relax when she felt the pain. Soon it dulled to an ache, and he gently rocked their bodies together. He took her mouth again, his kisses far more urgent now. To her surprise, she felt the pleasure build again. Her nipples were tender and very sensitive, and they ached as they rubbed across his chest. He lifted her left leg and angled down, the grinding increasing her pleasure.

  Finding release with him buried inside her was different, a mix of pleasure and pain far more intense than her first two orgasms. She pressed her face into his neck as she moaned.

  “Oh, Victoria.” He stilled above her, emptying his seed inside her. He drew away and looked down at her, and his hand trembled as he caressed her cheek.

  She caught his hand and held it there. “And why are you trembling?”

  He smiled and rolled off of her, drawing her with him so they both lay on their sides. “Perhaps I’m afraid I’m dreaming.”

  She reached out and pinched him.

  “Ouch!”

  “You aren’t.” She giggled happily, loving the surprised expression on his face.

  “Vixen!” He pulled her beneath him, tickling her and making her thrash wildly.

  “Vixen?” she said with a faux gasp.

  He laughed and soon seized her arms and pinned her against the bed, finally stilling her. “My sweet little vixen.” His mouth descended on hers again, silencing any further protests quite effectively.
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  Chapter Two

  Bastian snuck out of the room just after dawn and retrieved a package from the hotel’s safe. The amber necklace had arrived the day before the wedding, and he’d meant to give it to Victoria the night before, but he’d completely forgotten. It would compliment her hair and eyes perfectly, and now he could have the pleasure of waking her up to give it to her.

  He’d told her he was not in love with her, and for the most part it was true. But she had always interested him, though she’d been hard to engage, always willingly slinking back into her sister’s shadow and hardly ever speaking until she was drawn out. For two weeks, he’d been thinking of Victoria constantly. And his affection for her had grown far more than he’d expected. He’d scoured his memory for every conversation they’d ever had. They had danced once at her sixteenth birthday party. He’d escorted her in to dinner twice at Lady Winterbourne’s house party one Christmas. He’d once sat beside her and an Oxford professor at dinner, listening to her timidly ask questions about a poet named Blake while the older man had delightedly rambled on for the entire meal, obviously pleased to have engaged her attention. His most amusing and endearing memory was of her asking him to escort her to her parents at a party. A little of her fire had shown that day, as she’d stood from her position on a divan beside her sister—who had been casting a few vitriolic remarks toward a suitor she had rejected—and announced that she needed “a change of air.” He’d been lucky to be the nearest gentleman to her at the time, as her fuming and then her demure apology and thanks had convinced him completely that she was far superior to her sister in every way.

  He turned to go back up to his room, but someone called to him.

  “Yes?” He turned back to the desk.

  “A delivery late last night, my lord.” The man shuffled away and came back with a dozen pink roses. “For the lovely bride. We thought it ill-advised to disturb you.”