Charlotte's Brides: Vivian
Sable Grey
She'll give him everything if he's willing to play for keeps.

Blurb:

Vivian just knows that she is being sent to be the new bride of a man as detestable as the town he lives in. She doesn't expect Corde Ashley or the wickedness she discovers in him or herself.

Corde thinks he's sending for a new bride for his son but Vivian Bardsley and his son have different plans. When she turns his world and his lust upside down, will he let her go or hold on to her forever? 

Excerpt:

Vivian Bardsley peered out the window and wrinkled her nose at the unpainted wooden slat lean-to buildings as the stagecoach rumbled into the town of Polar, Missouri. Dread filled her as she stared at the plain-dressed women and men who walked along the dusty street. This was her new home?

The only person left in the small compartment, she leaned back against the seat, thankful there was no one to see the tears that threatened in her eyes.

As the carriage began to slow, she took a quick, deep breath and pushed her tears away. She’d not wanted to leave Boston but was given no choice. She would just have to make the best of it until her father came to retrieve her. If he came, she thought mournfully.

She’d pushed him too far this time. His reaction had been drastic. Even Charlotte Oberman, the woman who had sent her on this retched trip, agreed. She prayed Charlotte could talk some sense into her father, to convince him to have mercy and come for her.

Her stomach knotted when the carriage’s rumbling finally ended. “Last stop.” The driver sent her a toothless grin when he swung open the door. “Your Highness.” He held out a dirty, wrinkled hand.

She sat there, unable to move.

“It won’t be so bad,” the driver offered, his tone softening.

Yes, it would. It would be horrendous. She was bred to be a lady, to be surrounded by fine culture and gentlemen callers. Instead, she’d been reduced to living in some hayseed backwater town with a man who might prove to be even more despicably filthy than the one who now waited to assist her first steps into her hell.

She took another breath and reached to accept his hand. Careful of her skirts, she stepped gingerly to the ground and looked around, lifting a hand to shield her eyes from the unforgiving sun. The view was no better than from inside the carriage.

“Miss Bardsley?” A deep baritone voice brought her attention away from her surroundings to a man standing a mere few feet from her. Her throat tightened as she let her gaze slide across his thick shoulders up to the sand-colored hair long due a cut. The dark hint of a beard scratched across his solid jaw and down over his square chin. He stood a head taller than she, his body hard and clad in a plain cotton shirt, brown trousers, and worn leather work boots. At least he was attractive, she reasoned. Aside from his lack of grooming technique, she should be thankful she was not sent to meet an ugly man.

“Yes?”

“Corde Ashley,” he responded. His gaze slid to the bags the driver continued to unload, then lifted to those yet to be hauled down from atop of the carriage. His blue eyes glittered with amusement, no doubt at how much she’d brought with her, but he said nothing.

Instead, he turned and lifted his hand to his mouth, inserted two fingers, and whistled loudly, grabbing the attention of several of the men working outside the sawmill. They looked up and stopped what they were doing when he waved an arm. Their gazes all darted to Vivian as they approached, and some of them grinned widely.

“Haul these up to the house,” he told them.

One of them snickered. “Brought half of Boston with her.”

Vivian’s cheeks warmed, and her temper flared. How dare they pass judgment on her when every one of them looked as if they’d never bathed in their lives!

She lifted her chin. “And do be careful. I would guess that most of the contents cost more than you make in a year.”

The man’s grin faded, and his gaze darted to Corde before he bent down and heaved up one of the larger pieces of luggage.

Corde faced her again. “The house is just behind the mill.” She stepped forward and slid a hand under his arm, waiting for him to show her the way. For a moment, he didn’t move, then dipped down, grasped the handle of one of the bags, and strode forward.

Vivian lifted her skirts with her free hand and hurried to keep pace with Corde’s long-legged stride. She wrinkled her nose at the scent of the dust that swept from the mill. All of the men looked her way as they passed, and she stepped closer to Corde’s side. He hadn’t ogled her as the others were doing, so perhaps she was safer at his side.

The house was nested in a group of trees several yards back from the mill. It wasn’t large, but at least it was in better shape than most of the buildings on the street and shaded from the hot sun by the surrounding trees.

“Just leave it on the porch. I’ll haul it all inside,” he called back to the men as he led her up the steps then reached forward to open the door. “Go on inside. I’ll help them bring the rest of your things. You can look around if you like.”

She nodded and stepped forward, taking in the front room. The furnishings were rather plain, but thankfully, it was clean. The rest of the house proved the same. Small kitchen with a table just big enough for four at most. Three bedrooms, one much smaller than the others. The back door led from the kitchen to another porch, occupied by a place to wash clothes and a rather large washtub. At least the one she’d been sent to was one who knew what a washtub was.

Vivian turned and looked out at the thick growth of trees. A path led between them to the left and down a hill to an outhouse. To the right, a large pond glittered beneath the sun. A small boat was tied near the bank.

As she took in the scenery, she wondered if her father missed her already, if he felt guilty for sending her to Charlotte Oberman. Most of the women had no choice but to become a mail ordered bride. Vivian didn’t fit in with them, and they had kept their distance, often not including her in their activities. She’d never felt so alone…until now.

She stood there for long minutes, worrying over her situation, until she heard the door behind her open quietly. The heavy step of his boot made her clasp her hands nervously. What would he expect of her? Would he demand they consummate this paper marriage immediately? Perhaps he was cruel. That thought sent a shiver down her spine.

“It’s quiet back here. The trees shield a lot of the noise from the mill and the street.” He stepped next to her, and when she looked up, he was staring out at the lake.

“It’s lovely.” She forced the words, hoping they sounded sincere. When he said nothing, she searched for anything to say, to fill the uncomfortable silence. “Have you children?”

“Two. John and Jacob.” He nodded without looking at her. “Their ma died ‘bout two years ago.”

So that was it. He wanted a mother for his children. The nervous knot in her stomach clenched tighter, and she prayed that they were all old enough to visit the outhouse alone.

“What are their ages?”

“Twenty-four and eleven.”

His eldest was four years her senior! She looked up at his face. He didn’t look old enough to have a son that age.

At that moment, she hated her father. Damn him. He’d acted irrationally. And now she was faced with being the wife of a man she did not know, who had children older than her, for heaven’s sakes! He’d meant to punish her. He would feel guilty when his anger passed, but she would make certain his guilt was tenfold.

“I admit, you are not what I expected, Mister Ashley. I can only imagine you sent for a woman like me because you wished me to help raise your youngest son. I’ve no experience, but I will do my very best to educate and teach him refinement and manners so that he grows to an upstanding gentleman.” She licked her lips as she dug the folded paper from her reticule. “You only need to sign this paper as my husband and mail it back to Charlotte Oberman.”

Slowly his gaze slid to her and then dropped to the paper she held out. “I think we should go inside and talk for a bit.” He turned and opened the door, waiting for her to step inside.

She stepped forward, placing the document on the table. “I am not what you expected.” He’d most likely been waiting for a woman much like the other girls she’d met at the Oberman building.

“You are exactly what I sent for,” he corrected, causing her to turn and look up at him with surprise. He motioned for her to sit before settling in one of the chairs.

“I am?” She glanced around the kitchen and then looked back down at him. “I have never tried to cook a meal, and the only washing I’ve ever done was only a few months ago. It did not suit me.”

His face creased slightly around his mouth. “No, I imagine it doesn’t. I didn’t send for a woman to do those things.” He leaned forward, resting his corded arms on the table’s smooth surface.

She stared at him as realization washed over her. Corde Ashley was lonely for intimate attention. Of course. Charlotte had chosen a man that would not care if she could cook or clean, one that would not expect her to know of tending children or of spoiling her hands with household chores. She’d sent her to one who was merely looking for a warm body at night to chase away the loneliness left by his wife’s passing.

She knew a thing or two about men and women. While she wasn’t experienced with the actual act, she’d learned a number of wicked things from her friend, Rebecca, about bringing a man pleasure. The prospect of sleeping with a man was a lot better than cooking and cleaning. Most of the beaus she’d had in the past had been her own age. A dark ripple of excitement found her at the thought of an older, more experienced, man.

A sudden laugh spilled from her lips as relief washed through her. “Oh, but I cannot tell you how very relieved I am for that. I thought my heart was going to pound right out of my chest when I first saw the looks of this town. I’d imagined a man of no tastes at all, perhaps as toothless as the driver who brought me here.”

Those creases deepened as his lips curled with an actual smile. A rather warm smile, Vivian noticed. One that reached all the way to his eyes. A soft flutter in her stomach let her know that she might not mind being married to this man at all. It would serve her father right if she had been sent to a man she actually liked.

“I’m well read. I can play piano also. I shall send a letter to my father at once demanding he have my piano brought to us. That is the least he can do. And he will do it because he is most likely already ridden with guilt from reacting so drastically. He meant to punish me, you see. But it shall be delightful when he comes for me—and I know he will—that I am settled with a man like you. “ She reached forward to touch his hand. “I could teach your youngest, Jacob, to play.”

“My youngest is a little rambunctious. I doubt he’d sit still long enough to learn anything.” He chuckled, a low sound that sent shivers down her spine.

She stood, taking a breath, and stepped around the edge of the table. When she reached out and touched his shoulder, he turned and leaned back in the chair to look up at her. “I shall accommodate you as best as I can.” She licked her lips and then leaned forward. He didn’t move when she pressed her mouth to his.

“Miss Bardsley,” he spoke against her lips, and she boldly ran her tongue along the line of his mouth. The sound he made in his throat caused her to giggle. Tilting her head, she slipped her tongue between his lips. For a moment, he didn’t move a muscle, and she began to feel self-conscious that he didn’t find her appealing. She breathed out with relief when his hands lifted to her waist.

She ran her fingers through the length of his thick hair with one hand, while the other worked the top button of his shirt. At long last, his tongue responded, dancing against hers gently, while she worked those buttons all the way down to his stomach. When she pushed the shirt open so she could touch his hot skin, his tongue thrust forward, and his hands tightened around her. A moment later, he pulled her forward, onto his lap, and leaned her back so he could feed off of her mouth.

Desperate passion wrapped around her as he cradled her with one strong arm and his free hand dragged from her waist to her breast. When he caressed through the fabric of her dress, she moaned at the sweet sensuality that enveloped her. Every thrust of his tongue brought a tremble to her body. Her nipples hardened and pressed out against the bodice of her dress, and she arched her body into his hands. His rigid arousal pushed out boldly beneath her.

When she instinctively moved against him, he groaned against her mouth, and his hand left her breast, sliding down to her hip then around to squeeze her ass. With heart pounding and hands shaking, she pushed his shirt open farther, scratching her nails against the hair of his chest. She moaned when his fingers curled on her hips and he angled his pelvis so his arousal thrust upward against her.

“No. Damnation. What in hell am I doing?” His words tore his lips from hers, to her dismay. His breaths were ragged as he stared down at her. Wanting more of the unexpected passion she’d discovered, she reached up and curled her fingers into the collar of his shirt, attempting to pull him back to her lips.

“Setting me afire is what you’re doing,” she whispered. “Don’t stop.” She pressed her lips to his stubbled jaw. When he didn’t move, just sat there staring at her, she reached for his hand and brought it back to her breast, squeezing his fingers into her flesh. “I don’t mind. I like your kiss and am relieved I’ve not been sent to be a housemaid to someone. I can do this.”

Corde growled deep in his throat but jerked his hand away from her. Then he grasped her waist and hauled her off of him as he stood. He took several steps backwards, running his large fingers through his hair and then down his face. When he looked back at her, a strangled laugh crept from his throat.

She almost laughed herself. She’d not expected a man of such passion, not here in this dusty place. And her own reaction to him had been equally surprising. She’d prepared to hate whatever man she’d been sent to. She quickly found she didn’t want to hate this man at all. She wanted to eat him.

“You don’t like me?” Most of the gentlemen she’d entertained had enjoyed her kisses. They often begged her for more than she was willing to give. She moved toward him, reaching for his shoulders. “Kiss me again. I’m certain that I can please you.”

“I sent for a woman to be wife to my son.” The words came out choked, as if he fought to say them.

Vivian blinked. She took a step back. Then another. “Your son?”

“John. You are for him. Not me.” He drew a deep breath into his chest.

She stared at him in bewilderment. Her body did not burn for his son. She wanted him to kiss her again. What was he talking about? Her gaze dropped to his chest of bronzed skin and dark hair that trailed in a thin vee down his stomach. Lower, she found his body hard, seemingly as heated for her as she was for him.

“But I want you.” She lifted her hand to her stomach and pressed, trying to still the fluttering that was the cause of the heat.

“I didn’t send for a woman for me. He picked you out of the catalog.”

Vivian moved forward again, wanting to touch his bare skin again. “You could tell him there was a mistake.” Her fingers met his stomach, and he sucked in air through his teeth.

“There is no mistake.”

Finally, she lifted her gaze to his face. She wasn’t stupid. She could see desire in his eyes. “Then why did you kiss me back?” She arched a brow before smiling slyly. “I’ve never had a man kiss me like that. I quite like it. Didn’t you like kissing me just now?”

He swallowed, the sound loud in the still room.

“Kiss me again, Corde Ashley.” She lifted her face and parted her lips. “Kiss me.” He leaned forward then closed his eyes and took a deep breath. After a moment, he stepped around her. She turned and watched him button his shirt.

“I’m twice your age, and I shouldn’t have let you kiss me in the first place.” He didn’t look at her. “My son should be home soon. He’s a good young man, and he’ll treat you well.”

Shame and anger filled her, and she reached forward to snatch up the letter Charlotte had sent with her. “I shall see. If I do not like him, I will leave with my father when he comes for me.” She sniffed. “And you are correct. You are far too old for me. I can’t imagine you would even remember what to do with a woman at your age.” But when his blue gaze lifted to meet hers, there was no question in her mind that he knew exactly what to do with a woman.

“You will like him. A lot of girls do.”

“Humph!” She lifted her chin. “I’m not the same as these silly, simple girls around here. I have had many beaus and gentleman callers. And do not think I could be reduced to wearing such drab dresses and milking cows and scrubbing floors.” She shook her head. “It doesn’t suit me.”

“And what if your pa doesn’t come for you?” He crossed his thick arms and met her gaze.

“He will come for me. He’s emotional and reacted rashly. But he will see his error. He will come for me. He wouldn’t dare leave his daughter in a place like this.” Tears threatened to fall, and she took a shaky breath. “I will go back to Boston and find a man who does know what to do when I grant him my attention.”

Corde frowned. “I was wrong to have kissed you. There is no need to become hysterical over it.”

“Which room is mine?” She needed to get away from him, away from her embarrassment.

“The smallest. I’ll have Jacob sleep with John until…”

She didn’t wait for him to finish. Turning on her heel, she marched from the kitchen.