His Contract Bride (27 page)

A burly man with broad shoulders and hands the size of hens walked from their front door and climbed up into a large delivery wagon. The sun was almost gone from the sky now, making it nearly impossible to read. She squinted her eyes to read the faded blue lettering along the back:
Willis.

Regina's heart stopped beating.

Or perhaps it just felt that way due to the invisible vice that had just been clamped onto it.

If there was any chance of Edward ever loving her, it was gone right along with Mr. Bruno Willis and his delivery wagon.

~Chapter Twenty-Seven~

“
Did you order something?”

Regina sat frozen, unable to form a word, or even a thought.

“
Regina?” He gave her arm a gentle squeeze.

She still couldn't answer. Like her father and Lady Sinclair, Edward would soon think her incompetent, and she had nobody to blame but herself and her own quick actions.

Edward nudged her forward. “If what you ordered is making you this silent, it must be something naughty, indeed.”

“
Please, Edward,” she breathed.

“
Please, what?” He jumped down from the carriage then lifted her boneless body down next to him. “I thought ladies enjoyed showing off their purchases.”

“
Not these,” she muttered.

He lifted his brows. “Indeed? I can hardly wait.”

Regina couldn't wait long enough, and before she knew what she was doing, she’d moved to block his way to the front door.

Heedless to the human wall that had been erected in front of him, he reached behind her and opened the door.

She placed a hand on either side of the doorjamb as if her five foot, four inch frame would actually keep every one of his five foot, ten inches from getting inside.

His firm hands found their way to her waist and he lifted her as if she were nothing but a bag of feathers. He set her down just inside the door then wordlessly walked down the hall to where a dumbstruck Calvert was standing like a carved statue outside the drawing room.

Squaring her shoulders, Regina followed. She'd created this mess, and she needed to take responsibility for it. Even if it meant losing what little esteem Edward held her in.

Edward disappeared from sight, entering the drawing room.

His stepping in front of Calvert's line of sight must have awoken the older man from his trance, for he turned to Regina with wide eyes. “It's as you requested, my lady,” he said in his usual tone, handing her the diagram she'd drawn for the man at the shop.

She acknowledged him and took the paper from his loose grasp then turned her eyes to the atrocity she knew the drawing room would be. Had she any breath in her, she'd have gasped.

The room looked identical to the drawing she'd left and far more hideous than she'd imagined in her mind.

Green carpets had been laid. Shimmery gold wall paper had been plastered to the walls. Purple drapes hung in front of the large window that, when opened, would spill a generous amount of light across the person sitting on the blue ottoman and writing at the cherry secretary. A red settee positioned across from a pink settee was in the center of the room with a small oak end table placed at the end of the pink settee. Two chairs, one with orange upholstery and the other with yellow, were placed on either side of a small whitewashed game table in the back corner.

Slowly, Edward turned around to face where she was standing. His eyebrows were near his hairline. His lower jaw was fighting a losing battle against gravity. And his blue eyes were blinking so rapidly one might think he was trying to flush out a bug.

Regina opened her mouth to apologize, but instead, the most inappropriate sputter of laughter crossed her lips. “Oh Edward,” she said, trying not to giggle at his expression.
This isn't funny, Regina, and laughing about it will only make it worse.

“
I—I—”

“
Have been rendered speechless,” Regina suggested before she could think better of it.

He nodded. “The only thing that's missing is portraits of jesters mounted on the walls.”

That was it. Regina could hold her laughter no longer. Her body convulsed as peals of laughter rent the air.

***

Edward was dumbfounded. What the devil had just happened? His wife who rarely cracked a smile, and laughed even less, had turned into a madwoman.

Her face glowed with her merriment. Her smile so wide, her cheeks must hurt. The corners of her eyes resembled fans from the laugh lines. Her cheeks shone in the candlelight with freshly shed tears.

She was a sight to behold.

“
I—I'm sorry,” she gasped, laughter still wracking her body.

He stared at her in awe. As startling as the room had been, her mirth captured his attention far better. He didn't want the moment to end.

She straightened—or attempted to, at least. “Your face,” she said, swiping at the tears on her flushed cheeks.

“
I can't help how my face looks,” he teased, making her start laughing all over again as he'd hoped. Where had
this
woman been these past months? The answer hit him like a musket ball to the heart. She'd been hiding; hiding behind his interests and duty; hiding so not to cause a disruption or be scorned. She'd been taught that her only role in life was to marry well in order to elevate her father to the higher circles.

Nothing was about her. Ever.

His heart squeezed.

Hopefully, after tonight, she'd never again feel she had to hide her true self.

“
Regina?” His voice was uneven, but he didn't care.

“
Forgive me,” she said, sobering.

“
For what?” he burst out. “For decorating the drawing room?”

She nodded. “I didn't think... I'm sorry, Edward.” All the mirth she'd been bursting with but a moment ago had evaporated. “Forgive me, please.”

He scowled at her words. “Regina, have I ever told you how much I hate it when you ask me to forgive you?”

“
Y-you do?”

“
Yes. I find it demeaning toward someone I care a great deal for: you.”

Her lips parted. “Oh.”

“
Yes. And I don't wish to ever hear you say those words to me—or anyone else—again.” He hoped she wouldn't mistake the roughness in his voice as anger or disdain directed at her. He took a deep breath to push aside his anger toward her father for the maddening habits he'd instilled in her. “Why did you do this, Regina?”

Tears filled her brown eyes, but not the happy ones that he'd glimpsed before. “I—I was angry.”

He studied her fallen face. “That gruel must have been bad, indeed.”

“
I can pay you back, Edward. I promise. I'll sew a thousand gowns if that's what—”

Edward's lips descended on hers and his hands found her tearstained cheeks, cupping them. “Enough,” he said, raggedly. “There will be no more of that kind of talk. Now, tell me the truth; why did you decorate the drawing room to look as if a carriage belonging to a circus troupe unloaded in here?”

“
I already told you,” she whispered. “I was angry.”

“
Why?” His heart raced in anticipation of her answer. What had possibly angered her to do
this
?

“
Do you remember the day Lady Sinclair came over to offer me her flawless help?”

He nodded. “This is what you'd found mildly entertaining to amuse yourself with for the rest of that day?”

Her skin heated under his hand. “I was so angry because of the things she'd said to me about being an embarrassment to you and not deserving to be married to you. She'd mentioned the need to redecorate your townhouse half a dozen times. And, I knew you wanted me to, because I'd overheard you mention to Lord Sinclair that you'd asked me to redecorate, but I hadn't. Then, he told you to remind me of my duty.” She closed her red rimmed eyes and sniffled. “I remember when you first gave me the tour, you mentioned that I couldn't possibly make it worse if I tried. I was so angry, I wanted to prove you wrong and just acted without thinking. I'm so very sorry, Edward.”

“
I'm not,” he said, his voice hoarse and raw. “And you shouldn't be, either.” He glanced around the atrociously decorated room as new respect for his wife, and the strong person she really was under it all, built in his chest.
Nobody
would ever dare do something like this. Her reasons for doing this might not have been ideal, but at least she'd shown signs of having a backbone and being capable of standing up for herself. “Regina, can I interest you in another room at Watson Estate that would benefit from your extraordinary redecorating skills?”

~Chapter Twenty-Eight~

Regina's breath caught at hearing those words, all the former terror and feelings of shame she'd had a moment ago forgotten. She turned to look at him, and the heated look in his blue eyes sent a shiver skating down her spine. There was no misunderstanding his meaning.

Regina made no protest as he led her from the drawing room to the staircase. At the top of the oak staircase, he steered her to the right.

Excitement pumped through her when he opened the door. Never before had he said anything so forward nor had he initiated intimacies before her maid had helped her into that atrocious nightgown that she'd vowed never to part with as it was quite apparent that her husband enjoyed seeing her in it.

Perhaps she should put it on for him...

“
Edward, should I put my nightgown on for you?”

“
Unless by that you mean put it on fire for me, then the answer is no.” He opened the door to his bedchamber and ushered her in. “I want nothing separating your skin and mine.”

“
But—”

He put a finger to her lips to silence her. “I don't know who put such a foolish notion in your mind that I'd think of you as a lightskirt for exposing yourself to my gaze, but I intend to drive that from your mind before the night is through.” Then, without allowing her time to protest, his lips took hers in a kiss that made her weak in the knees.

His right arm snaked around her midsection, keeping her upright, as his mouth continued its gentle assault on hers. His tongue licked the seam of her lips and she gasped. Edward took full advantage of her response and pushed his tongue past her lips to explore the inside of her mouth. He swept his tongue across her left cheek, then right.

Spurred on by a boldness she didn't fully comprehend, Regina mimicked his actions, marveling at the way he tasted.

“
Regina,” he panted, pulling back. “I want to see you. All of you.”

Regina trembled at his words and the determination in his voice. What if he didn't like what he saw? “Edward, must you?”

Edward's Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. “Trust me, Regina. Please?”

Her former thought turned to dust. Edward was different. He was not the sort who looked for her flaws and mocked her for them. She could trust him. She lowered her lashes, hoping he'd take her meaning.

He must have for his lips were suddenly back on hers while his nimble fingers worked the buttons along the back of her gown.

“
Turn around,” he rasped when he'd freed the last button.

Regina turned her corseted back to him then nearly fainted when she realized she was now facing a large upright mirror that showed her reflection from her head down to her knees.

“
No protests,” he murmured, pressing his lips against the curve of her neck just below her jaw.

Regina moved her head to the side to give him better access, which he took. Dropping openmouthed kisses along the expanse of her neck, he continued to unlace her corset. When he finished untying her, his hands settled on her hips, his lips still exploring every inch and contour of her neck. Slowly, his hands inched up her sides then moved to her back. His fingertips reached her shoulders, slipping underneath the top of her gown.

Edward moved his mouth to the spot where her shoulders joined her neck and gently nipped the skin, then soothed it with his tongue. She sighed. His warm tongue drew a path across the back of her neck to the same spot on the other side, where he repeated his former action, eliciting the same response from her. Never taking his mouth from her skin, Edward moved his head to the left, kissing each inch of freshly exposed skin he was revealing with his slow removal of her gown from her shoulders. He reached the tip of her shoulder and lifted his head. In the mirror, she could see the rigid expression on his face as he watched her reflection while he lowered first her gown and then her stays to the floor, leaving her clad in only her chemise.

Regina kept her eyes trained on her husband's image in the mirror as she stood in a heap of satin and cloth that reached just below her knees. He'd seen her wearing this much, and less, yesterday. But he hadn't looked at her thus when he'd seen her then. Before, he'd been red in the face, and had kept running his hand through his hair or looking away at something of interest off in the distance. But not now. Now, his jaw was clenched. His eyes were dark and intense, looking directly at her image.