Lady Ruthless by Scarlett Scott

Author:Scarlett Scott
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 2020-06-24T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

Have I convinced you of my depravity yet, dear, gentle reader? If not, do read on. There is more…

~from Confessions of a Sinful Earl

CALLIE WOKE UP in the Earl of Sinclair’s bed, her body aching in strange places, naked, and alone. The bedclothes were twisted around her body. They smelled of him, and to her shame, that scent made a pulse of yearning pound to life between her thighs, where her soreness reminded her the earl was no longer a stranger.

He had been inside her.

And this tall, magnificent high tester—one of the few pieces of furniture in his townhome bearing any value—was her husband’s bed. And that equally tall, magnificent stranger was her husband.

Husband.

What a strange word. An even stranger notion. In the span of one day, her life had been forever altered. She could not go back to being Lady Calliope Manning. She was the Countess of Sinclair now.

Once, that fact would have filled her with dread and fear.

Last night, however, had altered her perception of the earl. Her cheeks went hot, and a swirl of embarrassment joined the longing churning within her as she remembered in vivid detail what had passed between them the night before. Aunt Fanchette had told her not to expect a grand passion, for that was rare even amongst love matches.

She had been quite specific during their talk.

No lights. It would be quite quick. There would be pain.

How wrong Aunt Fanchette had been. Instead, there had been nowhere to hide. The earl had seen, touched—even tasted—her everywhere. He had been demanding yet attentive, making certain to give her pleasure, worshiping her body in a way she had not even imagined possible.

The consummation of her marriage had been nothing at all like what Aunt Fanchette had warned. And what had come afterward had been equally surprising. He had tended to her with a basin and cloth, and then he had kissed her long and slow.

Sleep here, sweet, he had ordered her.

And she had been too sleepy and sated to defy him.

She had fallen into her first deep, dreamless slumber since he had abducted her from London. Callie ran her hand over the dent in the pillow from where his head had rested. It was cool to the touch, which meant he had been gone for some time.

She sat up with a frown, noting the light pouring in through the window dressings. Just how long had she slept? And where had he gone? Most importantly of all, how would she face him after all they had shared?

There was a subtle rap on the door adjoining his chamber to hers.

Her lady’s maid, Whitmore, she realized.

Callie was sure her flush extended to her ears as she clutched the bedclothes to her chin, covering her nudity. What, precisely, was the etiquette for waking up the day after the consummation of one’s marriage, in one’s husband’s bed, without a stitch of undergarments?

She adored her lady’s maid. They had been together for years—indeed, Whitmore had seen her at her lowest, after Simon’s death.

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