His Lordship Commands – Intolerable Pride

“May I kiss you, Bryn?” Will’s face was so close to hers, she could feel his hot breath panting against her. He had her pinned down on a pile of hay, the musky scent tickled Bryn’s nose. The faint nicker of horses watching their childish wrestling match turn into something different kept them out of silence.

Her gaze flickered down to his hand. It had fallen on her breast and curled around the roundness of her bosom. Something about the gesture lit her being afire with a rush of pleasurable tingling.  

“Yes, you may, Will,” Bryn whispered to him, breathless. 

His lips touched hers in exquisite warmth. The kiss lingered, and she mouthed back against him. Their tongues for a brief moment met and—

“Lady Westwood, I don’t think you’ve been listening to me,” Lord William Roland grumbled.

“Huh, what?” Bryn Westwood blinked herself out of the daydream she’d found herself in and glanced at Lord Roland, or the man who used to be a boy she’d called, Will, sitting across from her on the terrace.

“You do take our betrothal seriously, do you not?” Lord Roland asked.

“No,” Bryn said, her eyebrows rose in challenge. “Do you?”

“Not until now,” Lord Roland said and paced in front of her. He sighed. “But it alarms me you don’t. I was worried you’d be like this when I came back to marry you, Lady Westwood.”

“Oh come now? Lady Westwood? And I suppose you want me to address you by your title too, Lord Roland? You know, I used to think we may have had something, Will.” Bryn gave him a half smile, and studied him further. The adolescent acne gone, the awkward limbs too long for his body she’d always teased him about he’d grown into. The way his dark hair always slightly tousled across his forehead was the same, but how he looked in those gentlemen’s clothes… oh my, he was a handsome man to be sure. But Bryn knew handsomeness did nothing if one’s character lacked passion and humor. Passion and humor her “Will” had overflowed in abundance with.

“Lady Westwood, is that really the way you want to speak to your intended?”

“There it is again! Lady Westwood this! Lady Westwood that! I’m tired of it. I want back to our youth where it was you and me making pacts in the garden and you and me experimenting with kissing in the stables.” Bryn stood and smoothed out her skirts. Her last words had caused Lord Roland’s cheeks to redden.

Bryn rolled her eyes and gave him a quick curtsey. “Good day, Lord Roland. I suppose if I must get married to you I shall. But I won’t do it happily to this self righteous, arrogant ass you’ve become.”

“Oh, come now,” Lord Roland stood, and almost grabbed her hand. But she was too quick for him. “Wait… Bryn!”

She didn’t turn back as she stomped off into the stately manor the Westwood family resided in. Once inside however she found herself coming close to tears, while leaning against one of the stone columns inside the house. What had happened to Will? This stiff gentleman certainly wasn’t him.

The wedding was in a week. She knew there was no stopping it. An arrangement this long in the making certainly couldn’t be stopped. Perhaps it wasn’t so bad, marrying Lord Roland, Bryn mused. He’s not an ape. With all that properness he’s sure to treat me respectfully at least.

The sound of echoing footsteps on the marble floor made Bryn jump and scramble to regain her composure.

“Bryn, what is going on with Lord Roland?” her stepmother, Emilia, stated. Emilia was a beautiful, slender and tall redhead whom Bryn’s father had married just last year and was about the same age as Bryn.

Bryn liked Emilia, but was still getting used to her presence. Since her own mother had died in childbirth she’d been the only woman of nobility at Westwood Hall until Emilia’s arrival.

“He doesn’t look happy,” Emilia said with her hands on her hips.

“Well, maybe I’m not happy either,” Bryn mumbled.

“Did you get into a fight?”

“Not really.” Bryn sighed.

“Good,” Emilia smiled. “Please, smooth things over. He’s a wonderful match for you. Besides, I thought you told me you were friends? Not many girls are so lucky to marry a friend.”

“We used to be friends, now he’s very different,” Bryn admitted.

“Different or not, you’ve been betrothed since your eighth birthday. To go back on this match now would insult the Roland family more than a little.”

“I’ll go back to him,” Bryn promised.

“Good girl,” Emilia said, giving a nod. “He’s in the garden.”

Seeing as she had no choice, Bryn found her way back outside and walked into the garden. Sure enough, there stood Lord Roland, tall and dark. His handsome face set in a frown.

“Lord Roland,” Bryn called out. She hated being formal with him. But she’d submit to his wishes. “I apologize for the way I behaved. I’m too old to act like a child.”

“Bryn,” Lord Roland started.

“No, I understand. Lady Westwood is my title. You were only being polite and proper,” Bryn said, although ever part of her being rejected the words. “You are my intended and I had no business behaving the way I did. We will marry in a week and I am pleased with the arrangement.”

Lord Roland bowed and offered his hand. “Thank you, Lady Westwood. May I kiss your hand?”

Oh, Bryn’s jaw dropped a little, but she quickly closed it. The way he’d said that made her think of that time in the stable. It brought back all those memories. “Yes, you may,” Bryn responded, trying to keep her composure. She extended her lace-gloved hand out to him and he took it gently in his own. He brought it to his lips. The warmth of them on her hand triggered every memory of that day in the stables.

His tongue moved against hers. Her arms wrapped in an embrace around him, and pulled him closer.

How wonderful she felt pressed up against Will! Her legs squirmed beneath her skirts as something in between them stirred to life with unexpected moisture. Will grasped her wrists in one hand and pinned them above her head. A rush of heat went through her body. Oh, this was–

 “Lord Roland! Lady Westwood!” Nanny Annemarie shouted, interrupting their impassioned moment.

Will released her and stood up like a soldier in salute. It was then Bryn noticed the large bulge in his trousers. How curious. Bryn found herself staring at it wide-eyed, rather than looking toward Annemarie.

 “Lady Westwood!” Annemarie snapped and hauled Bryn out of the hay. “Such impropriety! Lord Roland, that was no way to treat a Lady!”

The incident in the stables had led to their four-year separation. Now she understood why his trousers had gotten a bulge. Cynthia Kingsley, married at her same age of fifteen at the time, told her in a fit of giggles about her naiveté on the male phenomenon of an erection. “The man part that hangs between their legs—you know, you’ve seen statues and paintings—Well, it gets hard and points upward when they are with an attractive woman.”

Bryn hadn’t at first understood why their families hadn’t let them marry at fifteen like Cynthia. But Father had said it was different because Cynthia’s husband was much older than her and Will was only two years her senior and his father wanted him to be established as a Lord before taking a wife.

“Lady Westwood,” Lord Roland said. “I do believe you’re not listening to me again.”

“Oh,” Bryn couldn’t keep her cheeks from growing hot. Suddenly she was fighting to keep her eyes on his face. “Well, Lord Roland. Continue, please. What were you saying?”

“You’re very beautiful, Lady Westwood. It’s been four years and I can’t believe how much you’ve changed.”

“I was ugly before?” Bryn gave out a half laugh, considering the memory she’d just visited.

“No, you’ve never been ugly,” Lord Roland covered. “Just, you’ve well… you are even prettier than I remembered.”

“Thank you,” Bryn smiled. “You are prettier than I remembered.” She realized how improper the words sounded, but she couldn’t help but feel a glimmer of hope when Lord Roland laughed at them.

“Shall we discuss our wedding?” Lord Roland asked releasing her hand from his own.

“No need,” Bryn stated. “It is already planned.”

“What do you want to discuss?” Lord Roland asked. “Is there anything on your mind? What led to your change of heart?”

“I realized I shouldn’t expect things to be the way they were. We are now quite grown and have left our childish ways far behind.”

“I am glad you feel that way,” Lord Roland said with a grin lighting up his handsome face. “You will make a perfectly obedient and proper wife. I can tell. Before coming out here I remembered the little wild cat you once were, always out riding on your horse or playing in the garden making mud pies. You’ve outgrown it all and I am glad. High society circles will embrace us as the perfect couple. None will know the uncivilized country girl you’d grown up as.”

The words sunk in. He’d said them. Of all the asinine things to say! Things he’d once told her had made her endearing to him were now apparently repulsive.

All feelings of positivity flew out the window. She put on a mask of polite behavior, but knew she was dreading her marriage to the now seemingly pompous Lord Roland. A brief thought of the wedding night to come made her shudder with apprehension. How could she even feel comfortable with such a man? A man who required her to be so boringly proper?

She considered herself a moral, Christian girl. She believed in propriety and marrying before having intimate relations. She’d known what had happened in the stables four years ago hadn’t been headed in a direction an unmarried couple should go. She’d even understood why they’d needed to be separated. But all the things she’d looked forward to in marriage to “her Will”, the friendship, the chemistry they’d shared, the dreams they’d made… well, he wasn’t “her Will” any longer. A point he’d made quite clear with intolerable pride.

Note From Marriage Heat: This is the first chapter from BlackLace’s up and coming book from Marriage Heat Publishing, His Lordship Commands. We accepted her story as our first Historic Marriage Erotica. The rest of this story will be released this June on Kindle and to order as a paperback. Please let us and BlackLace know what you thought of the teaser.