What shall we do now?'  She questioned awkwardly.

'We could play cards,' he ventured.

'"Cards?'" She echoed in a deflated tone.  She was finally his wife.  It was their wedding night.  She had hoped he would carry her to his chamber and love her all through the night... and he wanted to play cards!  Granted, it was still early evening and they had already taken supper.

Everything worked like clock-work in the Hampton estate seeming to illustrate an aura of wealth and professional organisation.  The food that had been laid out for them had been sumptuous, course after course of superb nourishment accompanied by exquisite wine.  Braeden was extremely wealthy and of late he had become bored with his success until his attention was caught by Lady Fallon.  Now he relished going to bed each night and he woke up with a spring in his step each morning.

'What cards?'

Braeden laughed softly.  He leaned closer and whispered in her ear.

Her eyes widened disbelievingly, her cheeks coloured profusely.  'You cannot be serious.  I have never heard of such a game!' 

He sipped from his glass, the fire dancing in his eyes made him look all the more attractive.  'If you lose a hand, you remove an item of your garments.  If I lose a hand, you instruct me to do the same.'

Her interest sparked, she swallowed excitedly; thoughts of her husband completely naked heightened her arousal.  He was certainly so well built, so muscular, so desirable, 'but what if she lost every hand?  He was assuredly a skilled card player.

'What are the rules?' She questioned curiously.

'Why do you look so disappointed?'  He teased.

'Perhaps you are rather an accomplished player at this game.  I may never win a hand and then?'

He laughed heartily.  What his dear wife had not asked and he was sure she was dying to know the answer to, is who had he played this game with previously?

She sipped on her delicious champagne.  'You have an unfair advantage,' she challenged.

'I have never played it before,' he grinned, 'although I hear from the conversations at Whites, that it's certainly entertaining and most rewarding.'

She was curious, excited, keen to play the game.  'You will not talk of us ___ of me playing this game with you, would you?'

He smiled, his eyes caressing her in a heated gaze.  She hoped he would not.  She would die of embarrassment if he revealed the goings on of their private lives.  And why were the others speaking ill of their lovers?  They were supposed to be gentlemen.

'I would not want to lose,' she admitted.

'So chose your game my lady wife,' he invited.

Yes ... I am his wife.  She was consumed with wild fierce want.  Candlelight danced over her skin and glowed in her sapphire eyes that locked with his, hungry with desire, excited to test her strength in this new game.  Nervously she looked over her shoulder at the door. 

'You know I have given all the servants the night of.  Grandmère is away, offering us all the privacy we need.  It is just you and I.'

'What ___ if somebody comes?'  She was hesitant.

'None shall be so bold to enter the drawing room,' he assured her.  'There are footmen on duty outside.'

'Let us take leave to your chamber,' she pleaded.

He drew her out of her sofa and onto his lap.  'We play here,' he asserted, pressing his hot lips to her throat. His teeth bit gently into her soft flesh.  If he did take her upstairs, a game of cards would not be on the agenda.

'Braeden ___,' she gave a tiny shiver, dragging his lips to hers.  His breath was sweet and intoxicating like the champagne she was drinking with him.

He pulled away, resolutely setting her away from him.  'We are not making love.  We are playing cards.' 

She heaved a heavy breath, sighing disappointedly.  'Please promise me, you will never ever talk of the game ___ of what we will do,' she pleaded.

He chuckled softly.  'I promise,' he pressed his palm against his heart illustratively.  'Now name your game,' he instructed.

She rubbed a hand to her brow.  'Fine,' she answered with cautious anticipation.  She was pretty good at whist.  She may not beat him outright, but she could hold her own.

Braeden allowed her to win a few rounds.  He made sure her champagne glass was continuously full.  Fallon clapped happily when she won.  He thought she would begin with his cravat or coat.  Instead she went straight for his trousers. 

'I first have to remove my Hessians, before you can have my trousers,' he protested.

'No!' she declined.  'I want your trousers.'

'Two can play that game, my sweet,' he warned.

Fallon warmed at his endearment, but looked up wide-eyed at his threat.  She hadn't thought of that.  Then again if she removed her drawers and was still fully clothed, what harm could there be? She threw some rather unsavoury words at him, when he began to take more than a few hands. 

Giggling and deliriously drunk, Fallon ran in an effort to escape the voice behind her, but he was quick, his strides like the speed of lightning.  She had humiliatingly lost the game.  Braeden still had his undergarment, shirt and waistcoat on, whilst she ... should have been stark naked, had she played fair.  For the only item she still had on, was her petticoat, and by rights she should have surrendered that to Braeden as well when she'd lost the final round, but Fallon chose to run instead of conceding defeat. 

She screamed laughingly when Braeden's hands restrained her ankles in a fierce vice grip.   She found herself falling, but it was not the cold hard floor that her body encountered, but rather her husband's warm, protective chest.  But how ___? 

Her hands desperately clutched onto his shirt for dear life even though Braeden's sturdy arms were comfortably holding her at the waist.  The smile on her lips was replaced by lust and desire in her expressive eyes.   They lifted...locked with his. 

The clock that had been relatively silent when they were playing cards sounded  annoyingly loud.  Her heart was hammering.  His lips touched hers... His tongue darted out, met hers, retreated and returned.   His hands moulded her round breast through the fabric of her silky petticoat.  His fingers searched and found an erect nipple.   He felt her surge against him as he stroked her.

Mirroring hers, dark hunger made his eyes look jet black .  He knew underneath the petticoat, she had nothing covering her modesty.  For when Braeden had demanded her petticoat, she had complainingly begged him to have her drawers instead.  Highly aroused and seduced by his wife's pouting lips, he had yielded to the negotiated settlement, for he knew in the next hand, before he conceded another item of clothing, he would see her as naked as the day she was born.  Now, his one hand slipped under her petticoat.  Fallon had wanted to scream at him, demand he release her...but the words froze in her throat.

'Why are you running from me, lady wife?' his voice was a husky growl. 

'Braeden .... This isn't fair,' she whispered woodenly.  'You should have let me win,' she urged.

Braeden laughed throatily.  'There is no chivalry in sport, darling wife,' he murmured, as his hand caressed over her shapely bottom.

'No!'  She struggled to escape him.  Still apprehensive that a servant may find them shamelessly coupling on the floor.

His lips teased at her barely concealed cleavage.  'Oh, but I thought you had a preference for this position,'he murmured.

Her cheeks became inflamed.  She remembered their first coupling on the barn floor.  He should not have mentioned that.  How rude of him!  Fallon struggled to resist him.  His hands roamed freely all over her body.  His lips had worried at the V of her petticoat, until his tongue got access to one very aroused and hardened nipple.

'My sweet wife .... You are more delicious that a glass of wine ___.'

'Stop!'  She shoved him off her and awkwardly got to her feet.

He shook his head lightly to gain some measure of control and stood up.  'What is it?'  He uttered in a voice still thick with desire.  She was torturing him.  All he wanted was for her to lay beneath him so he could immerse himself inside her and have his fill of her.  The agony he was in was excruciating.

Fallon looked away, battling the desire raging through her own body.  Self -consciously her arms wrapped around her chest, when she saw Braeden's eyes feasting on her breasts. 

'You have not even showed me around your home.' 

The explosive desire in his eyes died a sudden death.  'You wish to have a tour of the mansion, right at this minute?' He tried unsuccessfully to hide his anger.

'I ___ I,'  she took an involuntary step back at the threatening dark eyes.  This time she knew it was not desire.  She did want to make love with her husband, why was she stalling.  Was she disappointed that she had married a man who did not love her?  Yes there was lust, tons of it, but would he ever love her as ... she loved him.  And after they consummated their marriage tonight, would she just become his property, like the rest of his assets?  And when he got tired of her, would he send her to pasture in one of his country estates whilst he cavorted about with his myriad mistresses?

'Yes?'  He questioned, his crisp tone, demanding an answer.

'Where  are ___ our sleeping chambers?'

His eyes shuttered.  He turned away, disappointment and frustration consuming him in equal measures.  What had happened?  They were having a perfectly good time, playing cards.  And now she wished to retire to her chamber?

'Follow me,' he instructed and did not wait to see if she did.

Fallon sprinted to the drawing room, picked up her clothes and his and ran back to find Braeden waiting halfway up the stairs.  Her traitorous heart lifted at the sight of him...her breath caught in her throat.  She smiled back and rushed up the stairs, pleased that he was not angry any more.  She smoothed a gleaming lock of her wayward hair. 

Braeden's eyes swept down her frame, it lingered at her bosom and returned to capture her eyes.  She looked adorable, tightly clutching their clothes to her chest, bare-footed and only in her petticoat. 

'Come,' he smiled, his earlier anger diffusing at the delectable sight of his wife.

Fallon awoke to discover it was morning ... late morning, judging from how hot and bright the sun was and disappointingly she discovered she was alone in the huge master bed.  She sighed regretfully.  Stretching lazily, she smiled to herself.  Last night had been spectacular.... all of the previous night and the early hours of the morning had been spectacular.  She could not remember how many times they had made love.  She vaguely recalled in the early hours of the morning, Braeden drawing her into his arms, kissing her awake.  Sleepily, she responded by wrapping her arms around his neck and it wasn't long before she was wide awake and was being made love to one more time.   She was still tired from a lack of sleep.  Hunger pangs forced her to wake up. The thought of hot chocolate made her stomach twirl...

Fallon lifted herself up against the pillows and looked around the room.  It was large.  The huge bed chamber was draped with silk curtains.  A smile broadened on her face.  Finally she got to spend a whole night with Braeden and in a bed; the hugest, most comfortable bed she was to discover.  Not that she had sampled any other beds.  The smile broke into soft laughter on her pretty face.  And where was that brand new husband of hers?  Wasn't he as tired as she was?  If she hardly had any sleep last night, then neither had he.  She lifted the covers to get up and realized from the cold air giving her goose bumps that she was completely naked. 

Fallon grinned and quickly covered herself again up to her chin.  Oh it is so wonderful to be married.  She hugged the covers to her body.  She wished Braeden was still in his bed.  She wanted to look into his eyes, to see that dark lustful look that had stayed in his eyes all of last night.  He was such an amazing and incredible lover ... and to think Braeden had almost made her sleep in the designated lady's chamber.  Fallon had been aghast when Braeden had stopped outside what purported to be her chamber.  He had gathered her in his arms, embraced her and had dismissively bid her good night.

'I ___ am sleeping alone?'  She had questioned.

'Yes my lady,' he had nodded, with hooded eyes.  'This is the Countess's Chamber.' He had announced.

'Where ___where is your chamber?'  She had demanded.

'Right next to yours,' he had offered with a wry smile.

Fallon had brushed past Braeden and inquisitively opened the master chamber.  She had stared admiringly at the masculine furnishings in dark wood.  It was befitting for this tall, virile earl all right.  The chamber was enormous.  A giant bed took up most of the room.  Two huge drawers stood on one side.  She assumed all his fashionable and expensive garments hung in there.  The room was dark, not many candles had been lit.

'Expecting to find somebody in my chamber?'  He had quirked.

'I ___ I ,' she had been at a loss for words.  If he was going to take on a mistress, she hoped he would not have the gall to do it under her nose.

'And where does that lead to?'  She had demanded, when her eye had caught a door that seemed to be a concealed exit or entry point into the master chamber.

'Why don't you find out for yourself?'  He had challenged, folding his arms.

She had swallowed uncomfortably, her cheeks inflamed.  Perhaps there was an ugly harlot lying naked on a bed there ... waiting for her husband.  Fallon determined she would not play second fiddle to any of his mistresses.  She was now the Countess of Hampton and she, Fallon Kerrich was the Lady of the Hampton estate.

'I shall do just that,' she had answered and with her chin held high, had stridden to the door purposefully.

'Oh!'

Fallon had been surprised to see, it was a wash room that adjoined her chamber to the master chamber.  There was a beautiful vase filled with fresh white lilies.  The tiny room held a looking glass.  Candles were already lit up to provide sufficient light.  Steaming hot water had been poured out into a bath.  Clean fresh towels were folded on a stool, all placed at her disposal.  Her eyes shifted to the adjoining room to what was her chamber.  It was a pretty lavender coloured room. There were two similar drawers as in the master chamber.  Only they were not the dark wood as Braeden's but a beautiful fresh rustic white colour.  The room was inviting and appealing.  Her valises were neatly on the floor next to her bed.  Night garments were laid out on her turned up bed ... ready for the new countess.  A feeling of dread and disappointment had consumed her.

'I am not sleeping alone.'  The clothes she had been carrying fell to the floor.  She had rushed to Braeden throwing her arms around his neck.  'I am sleeping in your bed,' she had demanded.

'Fallon,' he had cried out hoarsely, tightening his arms around her narrow waist.  'I thought you would want your own chamber, my lady wife,' he had uttered gruffly.

'No.  Never,' she had whispered, her lips reaching for his.

'All the countesses before you, preferred their own sleeping chamber,' he had murmured, returning her kiss with equal fervor.

'This countess is changing the rules,' she had murmured back. 

Fallon was not going to allow Braeden to have his own chamber.  She was never going to provide him the opportunity to entertain his mistresses here in the Hampton master chamber.  If Braeden intended to lay with his mistresses, he would have to do it at any one of his many other properties.

'I am in absolute favour,' Braeden had laughed throatily.  He lifted his wife into his arms and carried her into his chamber.  'Finally, I get to make love to you on a bed ___ as is proper,' he had laughed again.

Fallon had laughed softly, thrilled to be in her husband's arms.  Possessively her arms had draped around his neck, eagerly anticipating the end of the short walk to his enormous bed.

Fallon rose, stepped into the bath room and found two jugs of steaming water for her wash.  She looked for the most beautiful morning dress in her new drawer, a sapphire blue dress.  She looked at herself in the tall looking glass.  Even she acknowledged she looked striking this morning.  Her glossy blonde hair shone.  Her emerald eyes looked like a new bride fully satiated.  The dress curved around her hour glass frame, emphasizing her full round breasts and shapely bottom.  Fallon turned around in her room, only to find another morning gown in soft grey laid out for her on the unused bed.  She smiled to herself, rapturous that she'd spent the entire night in Braeden's strong arms and not alone in the huge bed designed for the Hampton Countess. 

She walked into the massive breakfast room and found it unoccupied save for the two servants preparing breakfast for her.  No husband in sight.  How did the servants know she was awake?  Did they secretly send messages to each other?   Hot water had been ready for her before she could tug on the bed side bell pull.  A morning dress had been neatly set out for her in her chamber and now she had not one but two servants waiting on her.  One held out the chair for her, the other, ready with the pot to serve her coffee.

'Good morning,' Fallon greeted with a polite smile.  'Where is my husband?'

'The earl is out,' the male servant holding out the chair for her supplied economically.

"Out!"  Out where?  It's the first bloody day of our married life!

'I will have hot chocolate please,' she declined the coffee.

'Yes countess,' the female servant bowed and retreated to the serving tray for the hot chocolate.

Fallon was served bacon, eggs, ham, grilled tomatoes and deep fried potatoes with toast, pancakes and syrup.  She wondered where the hell Braeden was.  Surely he had not abandoned her on the first day of their marriage.  The servants discreetly retreated to the far end of the breakfast room.  Fallon wondered when the dowager would return as she chewed on some delicious bacon.  Why didn't it taste so nice at home?  Fallon smiled broadly thinking about her home, Emma and her parents. 

'May I have some writing paper and a pen please?'  Fallon requested, thinking to write to Emma.

If the servants thought the breakfast room was only for that purpose and not for writing, nothing reflected on their stoic faces.

'Thank you,' she nodded, when the male servant hastened back with writing paper embossed with the Hampton insignia.

As she indulged in the sumptuous breakfast, Fallon wrote an endearing letter to Emma.  She related the events of her first twenty four hours, as the countess in her new home.  She tactfully omitted details on the card game she had lost to Braeden, but her words and writing clearly depicted a very happy new Countess of Hampton.

'Breakfast was lovely, thank you,' she acknowledged with much courtesy and received two spontaneous smiles. 

Fallon placed the letter in the mail tray for delivery and knew Emma would receive the letter by the afternoon.

The male servant cleared his throat apologetically.  'The earl suggested I show you the rest of the mansion, countess,' his feet shifted awkwardly.

Did he now?  And why the hell was he not providing the grand tour himself?

It was a beautiful day.  The Hampton estate was appealingly picturesque.  She decided to explore a little of it, to help digest the enormous breakfast she had indulged in. 

'Perhaps later,' she declined.  'I wish to take a walk,' she placed a pretty bonnet on her head.

'Yes, countess,' he bowed low.

Fallon purposefully walked towards the open balcony and stepped out.  She admired the vast rows of trees in the various flower beds.  Rose bushes in  myriad colours, asters, chrysanthemums, daffodils, primrose, lilies,  and many more covered the area as far as the eye could see.  And this was just one tiny part of the vast estate.  Fallon snapped a bright yellow daffodil, adjusted her hat and tucked the daffodil above her ear.

'Good morning my lady.'

Fallon spun around, her heart raced at the sight of Braeden.  'Morning my lord,' she rushed to him and threw her arms around his neck, smiling happily.  Fallon observed her husband was rather restrained in returning her embrace.  His lips touched her cheek briefly, his hands lightly at her elbows.  She looked beautiful with the bright yellow daffodil adorning her hair.

Only then Fallon observed they were not alone.  Servants with heads bent inconspicuously low, were busy tendering the garden.  She allowed her hands to fall to her sides.

'Where have you been?'  She demanded.

He smiled adoringly, placing her hand on his arm as they walked.  'Grandmère will be returning at the end of the week,' he announced.  'I was preparing the Dowager House for her return.

'She will not be staying with ___  with us?'

Braeden laughed again.  'I'm sure grandmère will find your offer gracious but she understands there can be only one countess to rein as Lady of the Manor.  And that is your place my lady,' his eyes held hers meaningfully.  Fallon gushed silently.  She felt heat pool low between her thighs.  Her eyes lowered to his lips hungrily.

'Would you like to see the Dowager House?'  Braeden broke the spell.

She shifted her eyes disappointedly.  'Yes,' she sighed.

Every morning Fallon awoke to find she was alone in the master chamber.  Her husband rose rather early each day.  Some days, he would return to join her for lunch.  On the odd morning, surprisingly, he would still be in the breakfast room.  Fallon had to restrain herself.  The earl seemed not in favour of public display of affection.  She would smile at him, walk up to him.  He would arise from his seat and offer her a courteous kiss on her cheek.  She hated his conservatism, especially since privately; he was so demonstratively passionate and loving.  She was his wife for heaven's sake.  Why did he treat her like she was a maiden at her debut season?  His servant's cold, dispassionate demeanor seemed to rub off on him.

A whole month had flown by and Fallon could not untangle whether she made the right decision to wed with Braeden.  When they were together she relished every second but it seemed to Fallon, Braeden spent more time away from her than he did with her. 

Where the hell did he go to each day?  What the hell was he getting up to?  Hah!  As if you did not know...silly girl. 

Fallon fumed silently.  How could he desire other women, when he had become her entire world?  She could not believe she did not satisfy him... unless he deceived her in bed.  Fallon dismissed that notion.  Nobody could be that good an actor.  Every night, Braeden held her, caressed her, gazed adoringly into her eyes ...loved her ... like she was the only woman in the world, yet he seemed to be living a double life.  She was loathed to admit, but clearly she was unwillingly sharing her husband with his secret mistresses. Where else could he be spending all the hours of the day?  He was an earl, a highly ranked gentleman of the ton.  He did not work like commoners did, so where the hell was he going each day?  It was pointless to ask the cheating fiend.  He would not answer her or he would infuriatingly remind her of her place.

Fallon was fed up with her own company.  Occasionally she would walk over to the Dowager House and take lunch with the dowager.  She always welcomed Fallon with a broad smile and warm greetings but Fallon did not want to impose too often on the dowager neither was Fallon keen for anybody else's companionship.  Braeden had taken her thrice to visit her family, but on each occasion, Fallon could not wait to return to the Hampton estate, her new home ... to be alone with Braeden.  Oh why did she fall in love with the most insufferable rake of all in the ton?

Perhaps she should walk away from Braeden.  If he did not love her as she did him...she could not continue living with him as his trophy wife ... but would Braeden return the dowry her papa paid him?

            -end chapter twenty-