Deliciously Wicked (21 page)

M
eg had not gone into the factory today. She wasn't quite certain why, but she hadn't been ready to put in an appearance. Gareth, on the other hand, had gone to work. Even though her father had told him it wasn't necessary, that they would rearrange his position to one more fitting for a viscount and son-in-law. Gareth could have his selection of the opening staff positions. Her father had even gone so far as to offer him Mr. Sanders's position. Not to replace him, per se, but to be an additional factory director.

But Gareth would hear none of it. According to him, there was nothing about his work that was unfit for a man in any station in life, and until those positions were available and it was evident that he was qualified, he would continue working the grinding machine.

Surely Gareth wouldn't expect her to change everything about her life. He'd said she could continue
working, but had he meant it? She needed to speak with him and make certain he understood what she wanted.

If he wasn't too good to have a position, then he shouldn't believe anything different of her. She could continue to work at the factory, and together they could build it into the most profitable confectionery in all of England. And her father could retire a wealthy and happy man, knowing that his beloved factory would be well cared for.

She straightened the pillows on the bed one last time. Her first full day as a wife, and she had no idea how to fill her new role. What was expected of her? Was she to join Society and have tea with duchesses and the wives of earls?

How scandalous would those other wives think her if they knew she'd spent most of the day remembering all the delicious things he'd done to her body? They'd tried two positions and both had worked rather nicely. Were there more? Additional pleasures that were still to come? Could they, for instance, make love outside a bed? She looked around the room. On the floor, perhaps, in front of the fireplace?

No sooner had she eyed the plush rug than Gareth stepped into the bedroom. She felt the blush heat her cheeks. Would he know where her thoughts had been? She sat in one of the chairs facing the hearth.

“Hello,” he said.

She nodded. Things were awkward; she couldn't pretend they weren't. They'd made love last night, but it hadn't really changed anything, at least not in the big sense. They weren't strangers, but the lovemaking had not created an enduring stretch of intimacy. They were
still here, married not by choice, but by necessity.

She was tempted to rise from her chair and throw herself into his arms. To kiss him again as she had last night, boldly and passionately, despite the awkwardness hanging in the air. But she refrained.

“How were things today?” she asked.

His lips tweaked in a half smile. “Word spreads fast. It was different. Munden ignored me, but everyone else was a lot friendlier. They called me ‘Your Royal Highness.'” He shrugged out of his jacket and hung it on the back of the chair.

He didn't seem annoyed, mostly amused by the new nickname. He sat in the other chair in front of the fireplace, facing her. The fire still lingered from the morning, casting only a soft red glow onto the floor.

“Perhaps they think you'll be taking over now that you're in the family,” she said.

“No, marrying you should have no bearing on my position,” he said.

“That's simply not true. You're correct that you can keep your current position, but doing so will affect the way you're treated. And there's simply no reason to keep that position.”

“So you agree with your father that I should take a management role at the factory?”

“I do. It is not as if you haven't earned it, or that you wouldn't have. You're a hard worker, Gareth, and you deserve the recognition. Had Munden not accused you of the theft, you no doubt would have impressed everyone there with your intelligence and work. My father would have given you one of those staff positions. Now you need only tell him which one you want.”

“I don't want to take something I don't deserve,” he said.

He was living under the assumption that he was like his father, which simply wasn't the case. She knew he'd never gamble away their money or risk his life in a boxing ring. But Gareth couldn't see that. “You're not like him, you know,” she said softly.

His eyebrows slanted down. “Like who?”

“Your father. I know you worry about that. But you're not like him.”

He crossed his arms over his chest and gave her a sardonic smile. “I'll consider taking one of those positions.” He said nothing about her comments. “What about you?” He made no secret of his desire to change the subject. “When are you going to speak to your father about your wish to work at the factory?” he asked.

He wasn't pestering or teasing; he was asking a legitimate question. Which could only mean that Gareth believed in her, and did so without reservation. He accepted the possibility that she could manage the factory and did not question her unconventional desire. Inexplicably, tears sprang to her eyes. She quickly turned away and looked into the quieting fire. “I will do that. I will speak to him soon, I promise.

“I think it's time we tell my father about Munden's extra activity,” she said. She wanted to change the subject before she broke down and cried like a complete ninny. “I don't see much chance of the real thief contacting him now that we've proved you didn't take those boxes. Therefore there's no reason not to show the ledger sheets to my father.”

“I suppose you're right. Remind me and I'll get them
for you later. Right now I want to talk about why we've been in the same room for several minutes and I have yet to kiss you. As I've thought of little else today.”

Her pulse thumped faster. She had thought of little else today as well. Just fantasized about his hands on her body and the things she wanted to try with his. She hadn't yet had the opportunity to explore his body. Had only touched his chest and arms and back. She wanted to run her fingers up his long legs. She wanted to follow that trail of hair down his belly. Gareth moved from the chair to the floor and beckoned her with his hand. “Come here, wife,” he said.

She went to him and knelt beside him.

Then he reached behind him and snatched a tiny box out of his jacket pocket. He opened the box and took out a piece of chocolate. “I nearly forgot. Here.” He held it out to her.

She leaned forward and opened her mouth.

He chuckled. “So now I must feed you?”

She met his glance and nodded.

“I will have you know that this is from the first batch of the chocolate they're mixing with the condensed milk. It's supposed to be creamier. We all got a taste today. None of them are molded yet; they're just pouring it out in sheets and then breaking it apart.”

“This is your piece, then?” she asked.

“Yes.”

She sat back. “Then you should eat it.”

“I thought you might like to taste it.”

“I would. Together?” she offered.

He broke a piece off, then reached forward. She opened her mouth, and he placed the piece on her tongue. She closed her eyes and enjoyed the dark flavor.
It was creamier than the regular chocolate. When she opened her eyes, she found her husband's rich hazel eyes on her.

He bit into his piece, and she watched his lips close around the sweet morsel. It was a sensual experience and she found she was ready to touch her lips to his and see if the chocolate lingered.

She swallowed. “I think this is going to be a big seller.”

“I think you're right.”

Gareth kissed her mouth then. His lips met hers in a hungry dance. She could, in fact, taste the chocolate on his tongue, and it fueled her desire. He cradled her face with gentleness as his mouth teased and tantalized her. Pulling her hand to the front of his trousers, he pressed her against him.

“Do you feel how much I want you? I thought of you all day at the factory. What it was like to touch you and have you touch me. What it felt like to be inside you.”

He gave her no time to answer before he kissed her again. He couldn't wait. He'd wanted her too long, and now he could have her. Completely. Anytime he liked.

Kissing her was the same as tasting a delightful treat for the first time. Addictive and tempting. He could never get his fill of his mouth on hers. His hand found her breast by merely slipping beneath the low-cut fabric of her dress. One move of the muslin and he was touching her. His skin on hers, so soft, so sweet, just as it had been last night. And she'd been so willing and passionate. Never before had he experienced a woman with such passion.

Tentatively she moved her hand against his hardness. He sucked in his breath and clenched his eyes closed. She was inexperienced and naïve, but bold. It was a heady mixture. Enough to send him over the edge, else he controlled himself. Bolder still, she slipped her hand inside his trousers and beneath his drawers.

“You're so warm,” she said.

He moaned when her hand made contact, and he pushed himself against her. He could wait no longer. No man could have that much control. He quickly removed his clothes, then slowly pulled off her dress and her underclothes until she stood before him gloriously naked.

“You are so beautiful. Your legs. Your breasts.” He moved his hands up the insides of her thighs and spread her legs. The dampness that met his fingers shook his constraint. It was time.

He turned to walk to the bed, but she grabbed his arm.

“Why not right here?” She motioned to the floor. “The rug is well padded.”

He nodded and gently placed her on the plush blue carpet, then situated himself on top of her. He pressed against the apex of her thighs, begging for entrance.

“Please,” she said.

It was all the encouragement he needed. He entered her with gentle force and she shuddered against him. She was so hot, so wet. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to rein himself in, all the while wanting to let go and ride the sensations. Her legs wrapped around his back and she bucked up to meet him.

Sweet, delicious torture. It might be enough to kill a man, but it was worth the risk.

He leaned down and suckled her right nipple and felt the muscles inside her contract as she found her release. His name was still ringing in his ears when his own climax came. Intense, deep, powerful, it shot through him and he growled in response.

“That is a nice welcome home,” he said.

She nuzzled closer to him, but said nothing. He stared at the fire for what seemed like an hour, neither of them speaking. It was nice. He and his wife. He might not have all of Meg, but he had her body. Her hand traced up his abdomen, and he shivered in response.

“I almost forgot to tell you,” she said. “This morning I ran into Henry in my father's study. He seemed most urgent and offered to save me from our marriage.”

Sniveling bastard. “Did he now? And how did he think to do that?”

“An annulment.”

“So he has not yet given up on marrying you.”

“I've never encouraged his attentions,” she said.

“Has he let his attraction be known before?”

She shrugged. “He has made it known in the past that he fancied me. Until recently, though, I didn't give it much thought. I actually didn't even think it was more than him being friendly to his employer's daughter. Apparently I misread him.”

“Apparently.” He ran his hand down her back and cupped her bottom. “Did you tell him that our marriage can no longer be annulled? Once I claimed your body, you cannot belong to another man.”

“Not in so many words, but I insinuated that our window to file for an annulment had passed.”

Perhaps next time he saw Henry Sanders, Gareth would tell the man himself. Meg was his, in every way possible. He leaned over and kissed her passionately. He needed to take her again.

 

“Mr. Munden.” Henry cleared his throat. “I would like to see you in Mr. Piddington's office at the close of today's work.” He nodded to the factory workers surrounding Munden.

Henry made his way up the stairs to the office, well aware that the men he'd left in his wake were discussing him. They thought him a dandy; he knew that. But it mattered not. In the end he would win, and they would see the truth.

Apparently Munden waited not only until he'd completed his shift, but also until the factory had emptied before he knocked on the office door. Sanders knew Munden was attempting to annoy him by making him wait. But Sanders appreciated the opportunity for privacy, as the discussion was to be a sensitive and important one.

“Sit down, Mr. Munden.” Henry liked how it felt to sit behind this desk, powerful and in charge. “I'm afraid I have bad news for you. It seems I have discovered your extra source of funding, and I must inform Mr. Piddington of your theft.”

Munden visibly swallowed, but said nothing.

“It was quite clever, I'll grant you that. To remove the pages from the ledger. It took me a few months to piece together the information, but I found it nonetheless. You've pilfered a handsome sum. Tell me, what is it you planned to do with the money?”

Munden sat on the edge of his seat. “I bought a racing horse. He's racing this Saturday.”

Henry was enjoying this. It wasn't as perfect as his original plan, but it would afford him a hefty income. “A racing horse? Interesting. Well, my knowing this bit of information will obviously unsettle your plans, but rest assured I have a plan of my own that can work to your benefit. You will continue as you've been doing. Fixing the book, taking the money, only now you'll be taking that money for me.” He clapped his hands together. “A perfect plan, don't you agree, Mr. Munden?”

“I don't agree.” Munden came to his feet. “I have a different plan, actually. I was telling the boys downstairs. I'm moving on from Piddington's.”

No, that was not how this was supposed to happen. Henry clenched his hands. Ignorant bastard. “This is not a negotiation, Munden. You will do as told and take the money for me. Or I will ensure that your little embezzlement will not go unnoticed by the authorities. Prison. Do you think you can survive that?” He didn't wait for the man to answer. “I will make sure you are adequately compensated for your trouble. But make no mistake, you will work for me.”