CHAPTER 22
CLIFTON
Diana was correct, of course. It would be best if we faced her uncle together so he could see for himself that he was too late. There would be no annulment of our marriage. But that didn’t mean I wanted to subject her to this confrontation.
I couldn’t forget the threat Tuttleford had issued against her, but at least she was safe from danger now. We were legally married, and her uncle would gain nothing from harming her.
We left the cottage and followed the path through the trees. I kept my arm wrapped around her waist, hating that with every step we took, she seemed to retreat more into herself.
As soon as we broke through the tree line, we spotted Tuttleford outside the inn, gesticulating wildly before the innkeeper.
The man said something, and Tuttleford turned around.
Even from this distance, illuminated as he was under an outdoor lamp, I could see that his face was haggard, his clothing and hair unkempt.
He’d clearly felt every one of those miles he spent in furious pursuit of us.
His eyes narrowed as he took in the two of us, and rage had him turning an alarming shade of red. If I hadn’t been aware of the way Diana was holding herself unnaturally still next to me, attempting to pull away, I would have been amused.
I was glad when he stormed across the clearing. We were far enough away from the inn that we wouldn’t cause a spectacle for the guests. It wouldn’t be the first time an enraged family member had followed a couple to Gretna Green, but I wanted to shield Diana from any additional unpleasantness.
The innkeeper remained just outside the doors of the inn, his solid presence a reminder that he would step in to offer assistance if needed.
But I was confident of two things. The first was that Tuttleford would be no match for me in a fight.
And the second was that he wouldn’t be foolish enough to try.
“Listen here, girl—” Tuttleford started when he reached us.
“You will address her with respect. As my countess, she is above you.”
His head swung to me, his mouth working for several seconds. “If the marriage hasn’t been consummated—”
I allowed a small, triumphant grin to spread over my face. Although what I really wanted to do was punch him. “I assure you that our marriage would pass every legal requirement.”
He turned to glare at Diana. “You would allow him to defile you?”
“He is my husband,” she said. “I would allow him everything, as is my duty under God and the laws of England.”
Tuttleford’s fists clenched at his sides. “I’m sure that arrangements can be made to forget this nonsense. If it’s money that you want—”
“I have no need of her money.”
He snorted. “But I’m sure you’ll take it.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Tell me, Baron, does she still have an inheritance? Or have you and your wife already spent it?”
His mouth opened, but I continued before he could fabricate whatever lie was on his lips.
“My solicitors will be contacting yours. I can assure you they’re very thorough.
For your sake, I hope they find nothing out of the ordinary.
” I released Diana and took a step closer.
“If you think to hide any assets that belong to her, I have the connections to ensure you regret ever having made the attempt.”
Tuttleford’s jaw clenched, and he glared at Diana with impotent fury.
His gaze swept over her from head to toe, no doubt taking in just how much her appearance had changed in the short time since she’d escaped.
My control was about to snap. If he uttered one more word, I was going to plant my fist in his face.
The innkeeper chose that moment to join us. “I’m afraid we have no vacancies tonight. If you’re hoping to stay in town before returning to England, you’ll need to find accommodations elsewhere.”
Tuttleford didn’t acknowledge him, but he did storm toward the stables.
When I thanked the innkeeper, he shook his head. “I’m glad she is well away from him.” He lowered his voice. “You should take your wife back to the cottage. I’ll arrange for dinner to be brought to you.”
I clapped him on the shoulder and, without another word, turned to Diana. She was holding herself unnaturally still, her face devoid of expression. It was the same way she’d behaved during Kendrick’s wedding breakfast when she’d been seated next to her aunt and uncle.
I was tempted to go after Tuttleford and unleash my anger, but Diana needed me more. There would be time to deal with them later.
When I offered her my arm, she took it without looking at me, and we made our way back to the cottage in silence.
With every step, I tried to think of ways to make Tuttleford’s life miserable when I returned to London.
If he was smart, he and his wife would have already quit town.
But he’d never struck me as an intelligent man.
Shrewd, yes. Manipulative, definitely. But I would wager he’d press his luck, and I looked forward to taking him down.
When we reached our small sanctuary, I held the door open for Diana. She walked over to the wall of windows and stood still, staring out onto the pond. Was she taking in the scenery or replaying in her mind the unpleasantness of seeing her uncle again?
I locked the door and stood there, uncertain what I could say to erase the memory of the ugly encounter. If I could, I would take away every unpleasant memory of all she’d had to suffer since her mother’s death.
When I saw her shoulders begin to shake, I could no longer remain silent. “Diana, please don’t cry.”
She lowered her face to her hands, and I closed the distance between us. Only after I’d wrapped my arms around her waist from behind and leaned my cheek against the top of her head did I hear it.
Laughter.
Shocked, I spun her around and stared down at her. She was no longer silent, but instead of sobs, giggles burst from her. I found myself smiling in return at the joy emanating from her. How had I ever thought her plain?
“He was so angry…” And then she doubled over with laughter. There were tears now, yes, but they were caused by amusement.
A strange warmth settled in my chest. “I thought you were upset.”
She looked up at me, then she threw her arms around my neck. I gathered her to me and waited, grinning now.
Her giggles slowed, and she began pressing kisses along my jaw. The interaction was probably the most innocent I’d ever had while holding a woman, but it inflamed me immediately.
The soft knock at the door had me gritting my teeth in frustration as I pulled back. “Don’t move.”
I strode to the door and opened it. I took the tray from the startled maid without a word, then closed the door, locking it with my free hand. The crockery shook, but I managed not to drop the damn thing as I walked over to place it on the small table before the settee.
Then I returned to Diana, who was watching me with undisguised amusement. “You’re not hungry, husband?”
“Famished, but for something else entirely right now.”
I swept her into my arms, loving the small squeal she made as she settled against me. And then her lips were pressing kisses along my jaw again as I carried her to the bedroom.
When I placed her back on her feet, her hands moved to my shoulders, and she slid the coat down my arms. I wasn’t wearing my cravat or waistcoat—there hadn’t been enough time to dress fully when her uncle had arrived.
She pulled my shirt from where I’d tucked it haphazardly into my trousers and burrowed under, her small hand smoothing over my abdomen.
“You’re so hard,” she said, her voice low and husky.
“You have no idea.”
There was a twinkle in her eye when she looked up at me. And then, without warning, she cupped my cock through the fabric of my trousers. At my hiss, she stilled, frowning slightly.
“Is it painful?”
“The opposite.”
A grin spread over her face. “Oh, good. Because there’s something I want to try.”
I waited while she unbuttoned my trousers. Her hairstyle had wobbled off to one side, as though struggling valiantly against the few pins she’d managed to find while we were dressing. I buried my fingers into the mass, which was enough to cause it to tumble free.
Then, to my utter shock, she lowered herself to her knees.
“What are you doing?”
My breath hissed when she freed my cock and took me into her mouth. She’d clearly never done this before, but her enthusiasm more than made up for her lack of experience. She looked up at me, her cheeks hollowed, and I found myself teetering on the edge of release.
But not yet. I wanted to be inside her again.
When I pulled out of her mouth, she frowned. “You didn’t like it?”
“I liked it far too much. But I’m not ready for this to be finished.”
I helped her to stand then promptly divested her of her clothing again before tossing her onto the bed.
This time, when I followed her down, I began my own thorough exploration of her body.
She wasn’t shy, though she did hesitate when I kissed her hip and tried to spread her legs.
But only for a moment. And then when I kissed her there, between her legs, she let out the most delightful moan.
In that moment, I had the most unsettling realization that I was becoming addicted to making love to my wife.