Though their engagement was a shock to all of London, including themselves, Priscilla was ecstatic to learn that their parents entirely agreed upon the match. She had not been concerned with her own father, but the thought had crossed her mind that Lord Sinclair’s parents would be against it. 

Yet when the big day finally came, she found that their parents got on like a house on fire. Though the shock was still written plainly on the faces of some of their guests, the day went swimmingly, and time seemed to move so fast that before she knew it, she was standing in the master bedroom of Lord Sinclair’s countryside manor house in Oxfordshire, feeling the desire pulsing off her new husband in waves as he unlaced the back of her silk wedding gown.

It had been a long day. Priscilla would have liked to simply drop onto the bed fully clothed if not for the desire that was burning in her  stomach. 

The moment he slipped her gown off her shoulders, Priscilla turned, and the material pooled around her ankles. Stepping out of the gown, she urged her husband backwards, already working on the buttons of his jacket and waistcoat. 

They made quick work of undressing each other, both having waited for long enough to finally show their true feelings for one another. Just days earlier, they had been forced to watch Max and Caroline marry. They saw how easily they were able to embrace and kiss in public the moment that they wed. Now it was their turn.

Though what they were about to do, Priscilla was most definitely glad it was not public. She wanted Lionel all to herself. 

Once she had removed the top half of his garments, Priscilla stepped backwards and unpinned her hair, allowing the long, black curls to cascade around her shoulders. She then started to unlace the front of her stay, relieved that she had chosen a front fastening one when the option had become available.

Never blinking, she watched Lionel’s eyes consuming her hungrily as she exposed her breasts to him. Soon she stood before him in nothing but her stockings, kicking off her slippered shoes with a sigh of relief.

“You are angelic,” Lionel told her. Before she could respond, he closed the distance between them and brushed his fingers through her hair. Taking hold of the back of her head, he kissed her so passionately that it made her head spin.

Instinctively, she reached for the lacings of his britches, tearing at them until they made her flesh sore. And when he finally shimmied out of them, Priscilla only managed a glance at his huge manhood before he gripped her up in his arms and carried her towards the bed.

Yet a glance was long enough for Priscilla to grow nervous. She wasn’t at all certain her small body would be able to handle him. After all she had heard from Caroline on the matter after her wedding night with Max, she was nervous. 

Oh, come on, Priscilla, she scolded herself. You are not the first married woman. 

As though he sensed her sudden tension, Lionel hovered over her with his member just gently caressing between her thighs. Stroking back hair from her face, he whispered, “Don’t worry. I will be gentle with you.”

Slipping a hand between their bodies, he kissed her as he stroked the tips of his fingers over the most sensitive parts between her thighs. Shocked by the pleasurable sensation, Priscilla instinctively opened her legs wider.

Running her fingers through his hair, she looked him deep in the eye and whispered, “Make love to me.” 

Smirking down at her, Lionel rubbed the tip of his nose against hers and stated, “Your wish is my command.”

And just like that, he entered her. Slowly at first and with great care and control, he thrust himself inside her and allowed her body a moment to grow used to him before continuing. 

He quickened the pace and slowly but surely, Priscilla’s entire body started to sizzle with pleasure. Her insides twisted and tightened with it until she thought she might not be able to take anymore. And then, just when she thought she might have to beg him to stop, she felt an explosion of pleasure unlike any she had ever felt before.

Her moaning and panting turned to all-out screaming as he continued to work her body through climax after climax. The way her sex tightened around his member only seemed to urge him on faster until suddenly, he stopped abruptly. His entire body suddenly grew tense, and his breath seemed to catch in his throat. 

Just when Priscilla began to grow concerned, he let out a pleasure-filled groan, and she felt his essence spilling deep inside of her.

It was only after, when they lay side by side, Priscilla’s head upon his chest, that she suddenly realised something she had never thought. She actually hoped that his seed would quicken within her, that she would actually have all of the things so many women of the ton prayed for. 

Already knowing she was half-way there, admiring the wedding band that now decorated her finger as she stroked the small amount of chest hair beside her face. She breathed a deep sigh of relief. 

One Month Later 

Though it felt strange to be back in London after their lengthy honeymoon, Priscilla was content to shop with Sophie and her mother. It felt good to return to a little normalcy after spending half of her days in bed with the viscount. She hoped that they might have some news to share when they returned. 

Although she could not say yet whether or not that news would come, she was pleased that Lionel had chosen to join them for a walk through town, even if he did complain about their stopping to look in every single window. 

They were just doing so when out of the corner of her eye, Priscilla caught sight of something she never thought she would see. 

Mr. Kenyon and Miss Kendall were walking side by side towards them. And it was clear from the way that they were talking together, their heads bowed close, that neither of them had noticed her or her husband standing there. 

“I must go in and enquire about that necklace,” Sophie insisted but Priscilla barely heard her. 

“Go on ahead,” Priscilla insisted, gesturing her friend inside without taking her eyes off the couple who were wandering towards them down the street. “I have something I need to do.” 

Mrs. Lyttleton seemed to follow Priscilla’s gaze, offering her a warning expression before she started to follow her daughter into the jeweller’s shop. 

Priscilla could understand the woman’s look. After all, there was a time when she and Miss Kendall might have caused a scene out on the streets. But that would not occur today. 

“Mr. Kenyon! Miss Kendall! How wonderful to see you both!” Priscilla called to them. Even as she stepped up to greet them, she felt Lionel’s hand press firmly upon the small of her back. 

The two looked entirely startled, coming to a halt a few metres away, stepping away from each other as though they did not like the thought of being seen so close together. The maid walking behind them, likely as a chaperone, looked just as startled when she very nearly walked right into them. 

“Lord and Lady Sinclair,” Mr. Kenyon said curtly and Miss Kendall only added a bow of her head to his greeting, otherwise remaining silent. “I hope that you are well.” 

“We are,” Priscilla said sweetly. Half-turning, she slipped her arm around her husband’s waist and pressed her free hand to his chest, giving them both a good view of her wedding band. “And just back from our honeymoon in the country.” 

The scornful expression that crossed Miss Kendall’s face told Priscilla everything she needed to know about the woman’s hatred of her. And yet, for once, Priscilla did not feel her own hackles rising towards either of them. 

Perhaps it was her husband’s protective arm around her, or maybe it was the fact that she no longer felt a need to defend herself against either of them. 

Either way, she continued to smile sweetly and said, “I do hope that you are both well. It is good to see that you have both remained close.” 

At that, Miss Kendall started to blush. 

“We are, thank you, Lady Sinclair,” she responded, sounding shy and not at all like herself. Priscilla almost felt sorry for her, wondering whether she had found any contentment since they had retired to the countryside. 

“Congratulations to you both,” Mr. Kenyon said, as though the silence between them had made him uncomfortable. Bowing his head to them both, he held out his hand to Miss Kendall and suggested, “Shall we be on our way, Miss?” 

Again, she blushed, looking at Priscilla as if she still felt some amount of shame for what had occurred all those months ago. Then she nodded and gave a quick curtsey. “Good day.” 

“Good day to you both,” Priscilla responded, stepping out of the way to allow them both to pass. 

The moment that they were out of earshot, Lionel pulled her close and placed his fingertips beneath her chin, forcing her to look up at him. When he kissed her firmly, he took her breath away, and she closed her eyes instinctively to enjoy the feel of his lips upon hers. 

When she blinked again, she couldn’t help but ask in a whisper, “What was that for?” 

Blinking her eyes open just before his response, she saw the smirk that spread across his handsome face. 

“I am proud of you,” he announced with obvious affection. Kissing her again, he stroked a stray curl back behind her ear before finally adding, “It appears to me that the ice-queen is finally dead.” 

Feigning offence, Priscilla playfully tapped him on the shoulder with her fingertips, imitating a slap. “How dare you?” 

“How dare I? How dare you?” Lionel protested, pulling her flush against him with another kiss. Priscilla groaned against his lips, wishing he didn’t elicit so much desire within her still. Suddenly, she longed to be back in the countryside, taken to their bed for long hours of lovemaking. 

And it was in that moment that she realised he was right. The ice-queen that had been frozen within her had finally melted away, and it was all thanks to him. 

Since the very moment they were wed, that woman had died. She had been reborn that day as a true woman, a woman who loved her husband, one who was not afraid to show her emotions or allow others to get close. 

“My lord, I am afraid I must warn you to put her down!” Sophie exclaimed almost the moment she exited the jeweller’s shop and although there was humour in her tone, there was also warning. “The two of you are not in the countryside anymore.” 

Priscilla turned a scowl upon her friend, one icy scowl that was reminiscent of the old Priscilla. And immediately she started to chuckle to herself, knowing that if she needed to, she still had the potential to be the ice-queen when it was required.

But just as quickly, she smiled at her friend, a good and kind smile, as she asked, “Did you get what you wanted?” 

Sophie shook her head and sighed. “It wasn’t quite right.” 

“Perhaps you shall find what you are looking for in the next window,” Lionel suggested humorously and Priscilla gave him an amused look out of the corner of her eye. 

Even as they turned and followed Sophie and her mother towards the next shop, Priscilla leaned into her husband and whispered, “It is I who should be proud of you.” 

Lionel looked out of the corner of his eye at her and asked, “Why?” 

“Because it takes a strong man to put up with the likes of Sophie while she is on a shopping mission,” Priscilla said, chuckling and blushing slightly at the situation she had forced him into. 

Wrapping his arm around her waist once more, walking alongside her, he pressed his lips to her hairline and whispered, “I would endure anything for you, Lady Sinclair.”

THE END

---

Readers who read this book also liked