Hide and Seek

Maria has remarried, and unlike her unreformed rake of a first husband, her dear second husband Frederick is sweet, kind and incredibly proper. He is not the sort of man to take liberties with a lady who is not his wife.

Except now, after a quiet service in the village chapel, Maria is his wife. The boundaries have shifted. And after a two-year courtship and an agonising one-year engagement, Maria and Frederick can barely keep their hands from one another once they enter the front door. Perhaps a brief respite before departing for their honeymoon might make the long train ride bearable?

Interruptions abound, and to keep their desires in check until they can find some privacy, Maria proposes they play parlour games to keep themselves distracted. But during a game of Hide and Seek, Maria finds more than she was expecting.

Is Frederick really the man he claims to be? Or has Maria been duped by a cad again?

Hide and Seek is a light-hearted steamy romantic short story about love, trust and second chances.

It is the perfect quick read for those who believe that nice guys really do finish last.

Hide and Seek is a steamy short story set in the late Victorian era. With a guaranteed HEA, Hide and Seek has HOT consensual scenes. It includes strong language and sexy times.

This short story contains themes of parental death, spouse loss, grief and misogyny that some audiences may find confronting.

Her husband.
When Maria, then barely twenty-three, had watched the undertaker close the lid on the casket six years earlier, she didn’t think she’d ever utter that phrase again. And yet here she was, being carried across the threshold by her beloved husband, Frederick Fitzherbert.
‘Watch your head, my dear,’ Frederick said as he eased through the front door of his country house before he lowered Maria to the rug in the entry. Frederick tucked an escaped curl behind her ear, and Maria’s heart thudded a little faster at the delicate brush of his fingers. He pulled her into his arms and his lips against hers were as light as a butterfly’s wing.
‘Welcome home, Mrs Fitzherbert.’
Mrs Fitzherbert. How easily she had shed marchioness dowager, the moniker that had weighed on her these past six years. Before that she had been Lady Maria Christie, Marchioness of Walsham, and before that, Miss Maria Helena Parlow, daughter of the Baron of Norwood. And this morning in the little village church she had discarded every title and honour that had been bestowed upon her in deference to her second husband, Mr Frederick Fitzherbert, country solicitor.
With a flex of his hand, Frederick pulled Maria closer. Silk and lace rustled as her petticoats pressed against the firm length of his body. His eyes flicked to hers, then down, across the swell of her breasts, before he met her gaze again. The warmth in Frederick’s gentle brown eyes burned with an energy that Maria had only seen in scant glances before, although she recognised it instantly. Desire. Throughout their two-year courtship and one year engagement, Frederick had always been so proper with her. He had never stepped beyond the boundaries of propriety, but now they were married, those boundaries had shifted. A soft ache uncurled from her stomach and inched lower. A slight thrill hummed between her thighs.
Frederick lowered his mouth to hers again. His yearning coursed through the firm press of his lips as his tongue sought hers, and she welcomed his warmth. After they announced their engagement, kissing was the one thing they had done a lot of, and after learning the steady rhythm of each other, they had become rather good at it. In quiet corners of the park, Frederick would slide his hand around her waist, and they would stay lost in each other until the sun dropped and the air became cool. But he never once asked her for more than a kiss. Frederick always behaved as if her reputation was sacrosanct. As if she hadn’t been married to a scoundrel and a rake who didn’t give a damn for reputations: hers, his own, or the ladies he kept company with.
‘What time does the train depart?’ Maria asked, slightly breathless.
‘Three o’clock. I have ordered a hackney for two. In the meantime, shall we…’ His eyes flicked over her shoulder, to the stairs that led to the bedrooms on the upper floor.
‘Oh yes.’ She cupped her hand behind his collar and tugged him closer, heady and hungry to taste him again. Frederick’s palm on her back slid lower, while the other, on her waist, inched upward. Every inch of her body that he touched sizzled. It had been so long.