The water in her tub grew cool and sloshed as she moved in pursuit of pleasure, but Marianne couldn’t think of anything but chasing the feeling of satisfaction.
It was as she circled her button the third time that she had a thought: wouldn’t it be lovely if Frederick could use her so? If he covered her body and drove himself home?
And what if he could locate a stag mask, just like the ones used by those men at the townhouse? Like the man she’d locked eyes with that night when the tapestry came down.
At the memory of that man’s jerking cock, Marianne convulsed in the bath, her hand slipping as she gripped the side while rubbing herself to completion with the other.
Shame washed over Marianne as she regained her composure. She was only just married to the most wonderful and gentle of men, and she thought to violate her body? Her husband was a duke who had not allowed her far lower status to keep him from proposing marriage, and she still let her thoughts wander to another man. Here she lay in his marvelous bath, thinking of a libertine with whom she’d not even exchanged a word.
Marianne rubbed her skin red as she sought to scrub off the shame of what she’d done. What was wrong with her? That townhouse must have twisted something in her mind andbroken her moral compass; the needle now pointed to the forbidden part of a forbidden man she should not seek.
Chapter 6
Frederick was having amost unproductive time at his club.
He had met Anthony Paschal-Lamb, Viscount Corbet, for tea — the man having sworn off spirits — but one Sir Francis Pinchpenny had interrupted their planned tête-à-tête. Sir Francis had barely opened his mouth to speak before Corbet had laid the man out with a haymaker worthy of the center ring.
“He hadn’t even said anything,” said Frederick, confused as he surveyed the sniveling man on the rug.
“Saved him from a worse punishment,” said Corbet, unapologetic as he used the toe of his boot to adjust Sir Francis’s face and see that he was still breathing. “Terribly sorry, chap, but I should get home to my wife. If she hears of this before I arrive, she’ll have my arse.”
Unexpectedly, Corbet didn’t seem upset at the thought of his wife having his arse. He raced off to collect his hat and coat all the same, clearly under the spell of newlywed bliss.
Newlywed bliss, thought Frederick to himself. As the most recently married of the old Grand Bucks, he should have been at home, slobbering over his young wife and troubling her at all hours of the day for conjugal relations.
And he wanted to. Oh, did he want to. The idea of her drifting about the house when she could be pinned by his cock seemed like the greatest tragedy.
Yet his shameful performance during their consummation mortified him. What must she think of her husband! He’d barely gotten his tip inside before he’d erupted from the sensation and reality of being within her at last.
Frederick sipped his drink. Was he cursed with having a way with all women — except his own wife? He decided on a training regimen for his overeager cock when he saw Matthew Bohun, Earl of Peverel, making his way towards the entrance.
“Peverel,” he said, “a word, if you don’t mind.”
Matt came up short, as if just realizing he was there. “FitzOsbern, I didn’t think we’d see you for a few weeks.”
They shook hands, though Frederick couldn’t help but notice that Matt’s eyes darted to the entrance.
“Expecting someone?”
Matt shook to attention. “Expect…oh, no, not expecting just yet.”
He rubbed the back of his hair embarrassedly. “It’s just that Sophia sent word that her photographic equipment has arrived.”
Frederick didn’t need Peverel to remind him that the Grand Bucks had recently ruined his wife — with the help of photographs. Did this mean…they engaged in taking debauched photographs even now? For their own pleasure? Frederick hadn’t imagined that aristocrats would do such a thing within a marriage. It was lewd, pornographic, and oh so arousing now that he thought about it.
Peverel clasped him on the shoulder, his eyes containing no small measure of pity, as if he understood how his friend was struggling to make sense of this new information.
“She likes it,” he said in a low voice. “Likes it a lot.”
“You’re a fortunate man,” said Frederick with quiet dignity, hoping not to offend him. After all, he’d had his cock inside Sophia’s mouth not so long ago, when she was still Miss Stafford.
“We can all be lucky men, provided we allow our women into our inner lives and most private desires. Call on me should you ever need help.”
Frederick thought about his friend’s words well after the man had departed to cavort with his wife before the lens. If his friends — his raking, libertine, secret sex society friends had found love and acceptance with their wives, could the same be possible for him?
But could Marianne, who had more knowledge of what happened at the Forest than he wished, reconcile the idea of her loving husband with the dominant animal inside? The one he was trying to prevent her from seeing?
A poor showing on his wedding night was one sort of disaster, but roughly using his lady wife was a whole other nightmare. Why, if he mistreated her or shared information about the Bucks and his role, she’d even have grounds for divorce!
