His Mischievous Bride (Regency Matchmaker Book 2) Read online

  His Mischievous Bride

  Regency Matchmaker Book Two

  Celeste Jones

  Blushing Books

  ©2017 by Blushing Books® and Celeste Jones

  All rights reserved.

  No part of the book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

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  Celeste Jones

  His Mischievous Bride

  EBook ISBN: 978-1-61258-497-3

  Print ISBN: 978-1-61258-521-5

  Cover Art by ABCD Graphics & Design

  This book is intended for adults only. Spanking and other sexual activities represented in this book are fantasies only, intended for adults. Nothing in this book should be interpreted as Blushing Books' or the author's advocating any non-consensual spanking activity or the spanking of minors.

  Contents

  What’s Inside

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  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Celeste Jones

  Epilogue

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  Blushing Books Newsletter

  Blushing Books

  What’s Inside

  My fingers clutched William’s scalp as my vision went hazy. My legs trembled, and I feared I might lose my footing and tumble to the floor. A wave of feeling thrummed through my body and surrounded me in elation that built and built, finally peaking and exploding before I floated back to a semblance of reality.

  As I caught my breath, though my heartbeat continued to hammer, I untangled my fingers from William’s hair. I feared I might have injured him, but in the throes of my climax, I had no thought and such an utter lack of control over myself that if I had caused pain to my husband, I had no manner of preventing it.

  Based upon the way he lifted me in his arms and placed me upon the bed, all the while gazing upon me as a starving man might view a laden table, it appeared any harm I may have inflicted was completely forgotten, if it ever registered with him at all.

  Still wearing my corset, I gazed up from the bed, my brain in a fog, as William quickly stood and removed his clothing, coming to me in all his naked glory. His desire for me was apparent in the stiff rod of his cock. Firm and ready, I longed to feel it inside me, filling me and making me his. His forever.

  My eyes raked over him as he hovered above me. His chest muscular and taut, I reached my hand out to feel his bare flesh for the first time beneath my fingertips. A charge ran up my arm at the contact and I spread my fingers wide to take in as much of him as possible, despite knowing this was only the first moment of the rest of our lives.

  We had believed ourselves at the cusp of the rest of our lives years ago, but a foolish quarrel had sent us on separate paths. Only fate, and a matchmaker with an odd name and warm smile, had brought us back together. I dared not take any moment for granted or assume that forever would last as long as I might hope.

  As though granting my wish, time seemed to stand still as I gazed upon William St. Clair, my husband. ’Til death do us part. My breath caught in my throat and, in a moment of brutal honesty, I realized I had been waiting for this precise instant in time for all of eternity. This man, my sweet William, was all I had ever wanted or needed.

  And currently, need and want were at the forefront of both our minds. William straddled me as I lay upon the bed, supporting himself on knees and elbows so as not to crush me and also, I noted, to allow him the opportunity to look upon me at his leisure, though there was nothing leisurely about his gaze, full of intensity and desire that it was.

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  Prologue

  Thornthwaite Hall

  Eighteenth Birthday Fete in Honor of Lady Calliope Winterbourne

  William St. Clair

  Mine. She was mine and tonight I would stake my claim.

  Drawing in a ragged breath, I exhaled and willed myself to relax. Seeing the ballroom of Thornthwaite Hall filled with eager young men, all of whom were transfixed by the person in whose honor this event was held, gave me little reason for sanguinity.

  The receiving line stretched before me in a seeming river of polished and pampered obstructionists. Dark jackets, shiny shoes, pristine gloves. Each wore the requisite uniform of our class, a sea of sameness broken only by the colorful gowns, fans and feathers of the ladies in attendance.

  No amount of primping and priming by even the most beautiful young ladies of the district could hold a candle to the shining beauty of my Calliope.

  And now, she was eighteen. No longer a child, as any fool with eyes could see, she perched on the edge of womanhood. Though I still could not even glimpse her for the mass of humanity separating us, the luminescence of her smile, the tumble of her hair, the lilt of her laugh were seared upon my mind and heart.

  Not a patient man, I had forced myself to wait, biding my time. The postponement made the prize all that much richer.

  Taken in at a young age by my childless aunt and uncle, I had been raised as their own. My father had been the fourth son of a respectable but spendthrift earl. His eldest brother, my benefactor uncle, had inherited the title upon the death of my grandfather. My uncle had made an admirable recovery of the family fortune, but still it was not enough to provide for so many households. Having shown promise in academics as well as those athletic endeavors which were esteemed by fashionable society, I was favored by my more established relatives and offered a place in their home, their family.

  Though rai
sed as a son, the title would never pass to me, as the rules governing inheritance were well established and absolute. I knew my uncle had made ample provision for me in his will. Additionally, a trust had been established to provide for a home and income once I was married.

  I cared little for titles, except for the fact I wished to bestow upon my dear Calliope the best I could offer her. Riches, wealth and prestige befitting her singular magnificence.

  I first encountered Lady Calliope Winterbourne on a fresh spring morning soon after my arrival in the county a few years earlier. I had taken to the woods filling the acres between Thornthwaite Hall and my uncle's estate. In the solitude of the forest I heard a most animated conversation several yards away. Unsure of what I might discover, I crept up as quietly as I could and observed the scene before making my presence known.

  What I had expected to be a gaggle of girls chattering away turned out to be a single girl of approximately twelve years of age sitting upon a tree stump. Thick braids of mahogany hair flapped around her head as she carried on a lively confabulation with herself.

  In a matter of moments, she had spoken more words than I used in an entire week. Working my way through the trees, I positioned myself, so I could see her face. So full of joy. She sparkled. Though I was a few years older than this mysterious chatterbox, I envied her confidence and joie de vivre.

  'Twas not as though I had no reason to be joyful, but exuberance was not encouraged amongst young men, or young ladies, of the aristocracy. Her refreshingly unabashed behavior was rare, indeed.

  I must not have been as stealthy as I had imagined for she called out to me. "You there. What are you doing?" She stood and stepped toward me. Whether she was fearless or simply too naive to be concerned about a stranger in the forest, I do not know. She paused directly in front of me and curtsied. "I am Lady Calliope Winterbourne," she said, suddenly all perfect manners and gentility. "You may call me Callie, since I expect we shall be friends."

  I marveled at her ability to shift from girlish gibberish to ladylike polish in a snap. Acknowledging her curtsy with a bow of my own. I introduced myself.

  "William St. Clair," she said, gazing up at me. "I am pleased to make your acquaintance. Would you care to sit down?" She indicated a felled tree next to the stump upon which she had been sitting.

  Having no other plans and a trifle enchanted by the waif in the woods, I did as she bid. Thereupon she set about telling me, with elaborate terms and gestures, all about herself, her family and her pets.

  Over the next few months, I encountered Callie on a regular basis and sat with rapt attention as she chattered about her lessons and tutors, books she read and her many questions about people and the world around her. My sudden interest in solo morning sojourns into the woods raised some eyebrows with my aunt and uncle, but they said nothing. We, my aunt, uncle and myself, were early in our acquaintance, despite being family, and they allowed me considerable freedom to explore. Had they known my ‘explorations’ consisted of sitting upon an overturned tree while Calliope told me of her fancies and imaginings, they might not have been so liberal. Life with my aunt and uncle was quite pleasant, but Callie brought a unique blend of sunshine wherever she went, and I cherished her company.

  That Autumn, I went off to boarding school, as was expected of young men of my station. Though eager for an education and to bring credit upon my uncle for his generosity, the sterile dormitories and dry studies left me yearning for Callie and the light that shone from her.

  I knew nothing of her during that period. Letters from my aunt and uncle included no news of her, in part because she was a mere neighbor child but also because, to their knowledge, Callie and I were strangers to one another. I never divulged our encounters in the woods.

  In a life filled with duty and expectation, those moments with Callie were my respite and refreshment. I had no wish to share them with anyone else, and kept them close to my young and lonely heart.

  It was not until just a few months before her eighteenth birthday that I saw Calliope again. Rather than finding her wandering the woods, I encountered her in the drawing room of my aunt and uncle’s home when I returned from an early morning ride. She and her mother were calling upon my aunt who had recently returned from a trip to London. As I approached the open doorway and heard feminine voices, I braced myself to say hello and vacate the room as quickly as possible, not wishing to engage in discussions of lace and sleeve lengths.

  To my shock, the little girl I had chatted with in the woods had moved into young ladyhood. Prim and proper, she sat ramrod straight upon the edge of the sofa cushion listening attentively to my aunt's descriptions of recent changes in fashion. Only the barely discernible bounce of her heel beneath her long skirts revealed her youthful impatience with the strictures of grown up behavior.

  The heavy plaits of hair were now thick curls captured with pins atop her head. My childhood friend had been transformed. And judging from the small gasp which escaped her mouth when my aunt made the introductions, she had noted my own transformation as well.

  No longer a gangly boy, I had grown to manhood and looked to my future with determination and expectation. I knew then and there that Lady Calliope Winterbourne would be my wife. If I had learned nothing else at school, I at least came away with fierce tenacity, which I intended to use to achieve my goal.

  After we became reacquainted, I made it my singular mission to win her heart. Though she had not been formally introduced at court, she still attended local balls and dinner parties within the neighborhood where I was able to spend precious moments engaged in conversation or dancing with her. The slightest touch of her delicate, gloved hand against mine sent a shiver of desire shooting through me, though I kept such raging passions tamped down. Despite being nearly eighteen and a suitable age for marriage, Calliope had seen very little of the world—as was the norm for a girl of her age and pedigree.

  Hardly a well-traveled man of the world myself, still I had attended school with the sons of privilege and had been exposed to much more than a cloistered young lady.

  I had spoken of my plans with my uncle and he had been encouraging. "I am sorry you will not inherit my title. A son of my own could not make me more proud. Calliope's father is a wise man, I am sure he will see you are an upright gentleman and would make a good husband. You may trust me not to divulge your confidences, but the next time I see him, I shall make sure to mention my intention to leave the bulk of my personal estate to you. That ought to ease his mind a bit."

  My uncle's words warmed my heart and fortified my resolve to have Callie as my own.

  At last, I arrived at the head of the receiving line. Calliope's mother greeted me warmly and with a sparkle in her eye. Her father gave my hand a hearty shake with his right hand and clapped me on the shoulder with his left. "Pleased to see you, William. I had a most interesting conversation with your uncle recently," he said, and I swear he winked at me.

  A bit startled by the attentions of my beloved's parents, I managed to accept their good wishes with grace before I turned to greet my Callie.

  The air froze in my lungs.

  Our eyes locked upon each other and time stood still.

  I had seen Calliope in formal attire many times over the past few months, but nothing like the confection she wore that evening. The hue of her gown matched the golden flecks in her green eyes. Her delicate pink mouth parted in a smile. "Hello, William. Thank you for coming to my party."

  She bobbed a curtsy then stood, awaiting a response from me.

  "Uhm... h-happy birthday," I finally managed to say. Once the first words cleared my lips, I found I was able to speak a few more. "You look very beautiful this evening, Lady Calliope."

  A bit of surprise crossed her face at my use of her title. I was surprised as well, but for the first time, I truly saw her as an adult. Lady Calliope Winterbourne, soon to be my wife, Lady Calliope St. Clair.

  The line of other eager suitors hurried me along, but not before I h
ad claimed two dances with the guest of honor.

  The large number of single men in attendance, no doubt all vying for the attentions of Lady Calliope, made it difficult for me to find additional dance partners. This dismayed me not at all, for I cared only for the attentions of one young woman. However, having to stand around watching as others were touching the woman I intended to wed, enjoying her smiles and laughter, put me into a foul mood. At least if I were in the dance I might have something to occupy my mind, however slightly.

  I wandered to the terrace in search of fresh air and was startled to find myself standing next to a chap I had met while away at school, Lord Thomas Harley, eldest son of the Earl of Knox. Though we had not been the closest of chums, I knew him to be a decent fellow. I acknowledged him with a nod. He did the same.

  "You've traveled quite a distance from Primrose Park," I said, aware of the impressive estate which was his family home.

  He glanced toward the ballroom which could be seen through the open door to the terrace. "Word of Lady Calliope's charm and beauty has spread far."

  In theory, I had no reason to hate Lord Thomas Harley. But in practice, a white-hot rage filled me at the notion of my Callie with any other man. Of course, I was well aware of the many potential suitors who had trekked to the ball in celebration of her birthday, but to have it in my face so blatantly made my blood boil.