Page 29 of The Lady
“We’re what?”Delilah stared at Henry, sure she had misheard him. She was still very tired, despite sleeping until the early afternoon. She’d woken to a gentle kiss on her brow and gentle fingers stroking her hair. Then he’d pulled her from the bed and rather than her plug and collar, dressed her in an actual gown. It was a beautiful pale blue gown with a white lace overlay, although far lower cut than anything she’d ever worn as a debutante, and certainly, she’d never worn a gown with a slit up the side of the skirt. Rather than gathering her hair to each side of her head, he brushed it, then let it hang freely down her back.
Then he told her they were getting married.
“Married,” he said firmly, taking her by the hand and pulling her behind him to the door. It felt odd to be led this way, rather than by a leash. She followed him in a daze, still utterly baffled. “That way, in the eyes of the law, no one will ever be able to take you from me again.”
He did not trust Lady Felton, she realized. Truthfully, neither did Delilah. She had not thought past getting out of Lady Felton’s clutches, but it did not surprise her Henry had.
“But the banns...” They could not be married now. Not without eloping to Gretna Green, but that trip took days. Certainly, Henry could not be gone from his hells for so long, and it did not explain why he’d dressed her so prettily.
Butch and Frank were waiting for them in the hall, as usual, and Delilah shot both of them a smile. They grinned back at her, although Frank’s happy expression was a little marred by his black eye. Delilah felt a surge of guilt at the sight.
“We do not need banns,” Henry said, opening the door to his office and pulling her inside. There was a very nervous man waiting there for them, dressed in a cardinal’s robes. “Do we, Cardinal Burr?”
“No, no.” The cardinal shook his head, dabbing at his sweaty forehead with a handkerchief. In his other hand, he held a bible. “The Archbishop was happy to provide a Special License and thanks you for your very generous donation to the church.”
“A Special License?” Delilah asked, awed. She had heard of them, of course, but they were so rarely issued, most couples relied on Gretna Green if they were looking for a speedy marriage. How much money had Henry spent to procure one?
“For my special lady,” Henry said, curving his arm around her and bringing her forward. The cardinal gulped as they came closer, and Delilah realized he was afraid of Henry. She did not know whether to be horrified, awed, or amused. Why would a cardinal be afraid of Henry? How far did the Tramp’s reputation extend?No wonder he had originally thought he could keep her safe, with such connections. “Cardinal Burr, please.”
The ceremony was short, without any of the usual trappings and only Butch and Frank as their witnesses, but Delilah did not care. Her heart swelled as she looked up at Henry and vowed to love, honor, and obey him and nearly wept when he vowed to do the same—without the stipulation of obeying, of course. Slipping a gold ring onto her finger, there was an almost manic gleam in his eye, the same way he looked at her when he put the collar around her throat but even more so.
“I now pronounce you husband and wife.” The cardinal began to recite some scripture about love, but Henry waved his hand, bring him to an abrupt halt.
“Give us the registry, Cardinal,” Henry said, although his gaze was fixed on her. The cardinal seemed more relieved than aggravated at being interrupted. They signed their names, and it was done. Happiness welled inside of her as she gazed back at Henry. Her husband. A gentle look for her, then a harder one for the cardinal. “Consider your debt paid. Now, get out.”
The cardinal did not balk at Henry’s disrespectful tone, just scampered with an expression of supreme relief. Delilah’s jaw dropped open—the cardinal was a gambler?
She did not have more than a moment to reflect on that before Henry was sweeping her up into his arms. Not over his shoulder, the way he had the night before, but with one arm around her back and the other under her knees—the way a man might carry his bride across the threshold. She giggled wildly as he carried her up to his… their room.
* * *
The Tramp
Married.
He did not feel any different, other than relief Delilah was now legally, irrefutably his. He should have taken this step before, but in his arrogance, he had not truly thought it would be necessary. Not even after Bow Street began searching for her. Which reminded him, he still had Roddy to deal with, but that was for later.
Right now, he was going to fuck his wife. His pet. His cock had been hard as a rock since he’d first woken her, although he’d ignored its insistent demands.
The blue gown was beautiful, but not his preferred state of dress for her.
As soon as they crossed the threshold into the bedroom, he leaned her back for a hard kiss, his tongue dueling with hers before sliding away. Dropping her feet down and steadying her, he kept kissing her as he undid the buttons down the back of her dress. He might have torn it from her if he had not seen how much she liked it when she put it on. Occasionally, she may require a dress, and this one did look particularly comely on her. Even better, it was not pink.
Once the dress slid from her body, leaving her naked, he pulled away from the kiss and reached into his pocket for the collar he’d bought her that morning. No longer a thin strip of leather, this was gold-plated steel with a special lock, once set, could not be undone. The only way for it to be removed was for it to be cut off, and even then, it would take a blacksmith’s tools.
“It’s beautiful...” Delilah stretched her neck out, eagerly accepting its cool clasp about her throat.
“You will not be able to take it off,” he told her, the lock clicking into place.
“I will never want to,” she said firmly.
“Good girl.” Spinning her around, he bent her over the bed and smiled when he saw her pussy was already swollen, wet, and eager for his cock.
First things first, though. He opened the box with her new tail and liberally smeared oil across its surface before pressing it against her anus. She wriggled and cried out, her bottom lifting as it swallowed the plug, leaving her panting and even more aroused than before.
“Please, Master, please,” she begged. “I need you inside me.”
He was certainly not deaf to such a pretty plea, but... Running appreciative hands over the swells of her bottom, he squeezed her flesh, then turned slightly, lifting one hand and bringing it down with a hefty whack.
