The Bad Luck Wedding Night, Bad Luck Wedding series #5 (Bad Luck Abroad trilogy) Read Online Free PDF

whimpers escalated to cries. The obstacle held strong.
    Panic joined the passion barreling through him. He was hurting her. He'd promised he wouldn't. But he couldn't slow down. He couldn't stop.
    His climax was upon him.
    Nick yanked from her body just as she began to scream and his seed began to spurt.
    Waves of exquisite sensation crashed over him. He shuddered, but not with pleasure. He'd gone off before he'd even breeched her innocence to the music of her screams.
    It was by far the most humiliating moment of his life.
    * * *
    She lay by his side, not touching him. Without speaking. A single thought kept running through Sarah's head: Mama was right.
    The private side of marriage was painful and distasteful and downright messy. It burned her, made her so sore. She wanted to get up and wash. How could she bear to go through this again? How often would he truly wish to do it? That was one question she'd never thought to ask her mother.
    She certainly wasn't going to ask Nick. In fact, she might never speak to him again. He'd said she'd think she had died and gone to heaven. Under her breath, she said, "You had half of it right, anyway."
    "What?"
    "Nothing."
    Silence settled between them like an unwelcome guest Sarah didn't know what to do. What was proper etiquette between a husband and wife following the folly of the marriage bed? It was yet another question she'd not known to ask.
    Finally, Nick took care of that problem. Heedless of his nakedness, he climbed from the bed and crossed the room to the wardrobe where a change of clothing hung. Though she didn't intend to look, her gaze strayed to his backside. She fleetingly wondered how those firm, sculpted muscles would feel to the touch, and wished she'd explored the answer to that when she'd had the chance.
    When she realized the direction her thoughts had taken, she choked and coughed.
    Fastening his trousers, Nick glanced over his shoulder. "You all right?"
    "Um, yes."
    He removed a shirt from the cabinet and slipped it on. "I'm hungry. I thought I would go down to the dining room and order something to bring up. Is a sandwich all right with you?"
    Sarah didn't want a sandwich, but she did want a few moments alone. She guessed that might be what Nick wanted, too. "That's fine."
    He finished dressing without further talk, then headed for the door. There he paused. He raked his fingers through his hair, then addressed her without looking at her. "Sarah, I am sorry. It will be better next time."
    Then he was gone and Sarah darted from the bed in a rush to wash and dress before he returned, the words "next time" echoing through her brain like a death knell.
    Nick took longer downstairs than she expected, so she had time to fix her hair and bolt back another fortifying two sips of brandy. She wasn't certain if the liquor had made it any easier or not, but under the circumstances, if Nick wanted to do it again, better safe than sorry. She decided to keep the bottle close.
    As it turned out, nothing would have prepared her for what happened next. Her husband returned to their room a pale, shaky imitation of the man who had walked out half an hour earlier. Shocked by his appearance, she said, "Nick, what is it? What happened?"
    His deep blue eyes were dazed and glassy as he lifted the sheet of paper he held in his hand. "A letter arrived for me at the rooming house. The Widow Larkin sent it over. It is from England. From my father. My brothers were racing horses. There was an accident. Both of them. They're dead."
    "Your brothers? Oh, Nick. I'm so sorry. Were you close?"
    He shook his head. "I never met them. They were my only brothers and I never even met them. He wouldn't allow it."
    Compassion swept through Sarah. "That's terrible. I understand why you're upset."
    "No, you don't. Think about it, Sarah. My father is the Marquess of Weston. His eldest son is the Earl of Innsbruck. Sarah, that's me. I'm now legally my father's heir. We must depart for London