Heart’s Temptation Books 1–3

by Scott, Scarlett

  He bowed as a footman closed the door behind him. “Mother, sister. I expect that Levingood has already informed you of the arrival of Lady Scarbrough and all her family.”

  “Indeed.” She inclined her head, unwilling to give. This man, so cool, was of her own flesh and blood and yet he seemed so strange and foreign.

  “Lady Scarbrough and I are to wed within a fortnight’s time,” her son continued, his tone unchanged. It was as if he spoke of nothing more than the beeswax on the floor. “I trust that you will act with courtesy and treat both Lady Scarbrough and her kin with utmost respect.”

  “Of course,” she answered stiffly. They were, after all, peers. Even if the chit acted as a common gutter wench. “Forgive me, son, but how shall you be marrying a chit already wed to another?”

  “As you know, the earl is dead, leaving me free to marry the countess. And wed we shall, mother.” Her son eyed her as if she were his enemy. And it quite made her poor heart ache, it did.

  “Son, this is precipitating indeed,” she offered, at a loss.

  “I believe you mean to say ‘precipitous’, mother,” corrected her imperious, hateful son. “I suspect that it may be to yourself. However, there are other circumstances that render a union imperative.”

  “Imperative?” Her heart felt weak.

  “The rooms shall be prepared for the countess and her family.”

  Never let it be said that she did not know her duty. The dowager raised her chin. “They are being prepared as we speak. Where shall we place the Lady Scarbrough?”

  “In the east wing as well.” Thornton bowed again. “It is essential that we maintain propriety.”

  Her smile was cold. “Then I do not understand your pressing nuptials, son.”

  “You are aware, of course, that the countess and her husband had been estranged?”

  “Indeed.”

  “Then let me be perfectly frank, mother. Cleo is, quite possibly, carrying my heir.”

  Her heart began a dance to rival the waltz. “Possibly?” She cast a glance at her daughter, who watched the exchange, enrapt. “Bella, go to your chambers at once.”

  “Maman?”

  “She may remain, mother.” Her son’s voice matched the iciness of his smile. “I am, after all, the head of this family. If I say she stays, she does. Bella has every right to know that Cleo and I will wed. She is of age.”

  “Who has created this abominable carelessness within you?” Desperation bubbled up within her. She was fast losing whatever tenuous grasp of control she’d maintained upon her family and she did not savor the sensation.

  “I am the head of this family,” he repeated, impassive. “When I say that Cleo is possibly carrying my heir, I mean to say that she certainly carries my child, but whether it shall be male or female remains to be seen. You will oversee the preparation of rooms for her entire family yourself. You will see that she is treated to the utmost respect. And you will never show a bit of displeasure.”

  “Of course,” she bit out. “She is with child for certain, Alexander?”

  “Yes.”

  The world swam before her and then it disappeared.

  One week into her rather ignoble return to Marleigh Manor, Cleo swore she’d go mad. The servants slipped about the house in silence, fearing, no doubt, an attack by the dowager, who could be heard shrieking from even the east wing. Yesterday, it had been the state of her eggs, then a fine sheen of dust having the nerve to settle over the late marquis’s portrait, then a slouching maid.

  For Cleo’s part, the dowager refused to speak to her or be present in the same room as her. It was not a secret that she took all her meals in her rooms to avoid Cleo. Lady Bella cut Cleo with accusatory glares. Thornton, despite his admonition to her in the carriage for the impersonal nature of her conversation, treated her with the polite care he would show an utter stranger.

  To compound matters, it rained for five days straight. When the weather finally cleared, she took the opportunity to wrap herself in a heavy shawl and make her way to the garden. She had not gone a few steps before Thornton’s voice stopped her.

  “Cleo, darling. Should you be about in this weather?”

  With a sigh, she turned to find him striding toward her with great purpose. He was beautiful, his black hair falling over his eyes like some sort of gothic hero. In just a week, he would be hers. She tried to take comfort in that knowledge.

  “Why should I not be?” She gave him her best smile, hoping it might soften him.

  “It’s damn cold, for one thing.” He approached her and rubbed his hands down over her arms as if to warm her. “With all the rain, it’s so bloody damp I’m afraid you’ll catch a lung fever.”

  “It’s not as cold or damp as that, Alex.”

  “Come inside,” he urged, pulling her back to the house without awaiting her response.

  “No.” She planted her feet on the stone walk, feeling mulish. “I won’t.”

  He stiffened, his mouth going flat in that way it did whenever he was angered. “Have a care for the child, if not for yourself.”

  “I am having a care for the child. I’m wearing my warmest wrap even though I am quite warm, in truth. I have withstood all that I can of being trapped inside those walls.”

  He frowned. “You do not find the east wing to your liking?”

  “It is quite lovely. You misunderstand me. I don’t object to your home but to the stifling air within it.”

  “You’re overheated, then?” Concern shaded his voice. “Perhaps you’re with fever. I assure you I find the air perfectly temperate.”

  Really. She wanted to stomp her foot. Thornton was being such a man. How could he not comprehend that being trapped inside a home with one family who loathed her and another that smothered her would make her mad? If her mother brought her one more tea, she’d die of…of…tea over-consumption. Yes. That had to be possible. Did it not?

  “Cleo? If you’re with fever, I shall have my physician here in a trice. I won’t have any unnecessary harm coming to you or the babe.” He caught her elbow. “Come inside before it worsens.”

  She wrenched her arm from his grasp. “I do not have a fever, you duffer. Nor am I overheated. When I said I found the air stifling, I meant to say your mother can be heard throughout the house raving at the servants like a madwoman, yet she obviously abstains from my company at all meals as if I were no better than a dairy maid come to snag her son for his guineas. Your sister despises me. My family follows me everywhere—I dare say to keep a safe distance maintained between your mother and myself—and when you see me, you look at me as if you don’t know me.”

  “Calm yourself.” His tone turned irritable. “You’ll harm the child.”

  “Now I am not allowed to experience emotions, either?” She was incredulous at his gall. “Pray, Thornton, make a list of what I may and may not do as your property.”

  “You’re overset.” He reached for her again.

  “Damn right I’m overset.” To emphasize her point, she kicked a flower pot that contained some sort of dead-looking herb. Pain radiated from her big toe to her ankle and up her leg. Moaning, she hopped about, wishing for once she’d gotten the best of her temper.

  “Is it the babe?”

  “It’s my bloody toe.” She was shrieking and cursing, but she found she didn’t care. Quite possibly, she’d broken the dratted appendage and her husband-to-be was an utter ass.

  “Stop that hobbling about.” Having issued the order, he scooped her up into his arms as if she weighed no more than her hat. “I’ll take you inside so I can have a look and see what you’ve done with your temper.”

  Gritting her teeth against the pain, she held her tongue and allowed herself to be carted back into the house. After all, if shaking off the shackles of being trapped inside the house had been lovely, being in Alex’s arms was lovelier still. She linked her hands around his neck and admired the manly slash of his jaw. The delicious scent that was his alone teased her senses and s
he couldn’t refrain from pressing her face to the crook of his neck and inhaling deeply. If they passed anyone, she didn’t know—her face was pressed to his skin.

  He cleared his throat. “Cleo, you’re kissing my neck.”

  Dear me, so she was. His voice sounded pained, but she recognized the banked desire, knew she could claim it as her own. She suddenly forgot why she’d been infuriated by him. Her tongue darted out to taste his warm skin.

  This time, he coughed. “You’re, er, licking me.”

  “I’m doing no such thing,” she lied.

  The pain in her toe lessened considerably. She missed him. She missed being free to touch and kiss him as she pleased. They couldn’t go on being at sixes and sevens with one another forever. Perhaps she knew how to move them beyond their impasse after all.

  She had an idea. “I feel horridly ill of a sudden, Alex.”

  “What?” He looked down at her, questioning.

  “I need to lie down.”

  “I’ll take you to your chamber.” He lengthened his stride.

  “No.” She made her voice become thready and weak. “It’s too far.”

  “My chamber,” he said decisively. “You can rest there.”

  Much better. She hid her satisfied smile against his solid chest, kept her ear to his heart, listening to its steady beats. Before long, they had made their way to his rooms. She heard him barking an order at someone to fetch her some tea and then they were alone inside, door closed. With gentle care, he deposited her on his bed, then hovered, looking worried.

  “Shall I call for the doctor?”

  “No.” She leveraged herself into a half-sitting position against his pillows.

  Grimly, he rucked up her skirts to reveal her ankles. “Which foot did you hurt?”

  “The right one.” Surreptitiously, she inched her gown higher, leaving a generous swath of her calves exposed as well. Thank heavens she’d worn her pretty silk stockings that morning.

  Thornton unbuttoned her shoe and removed it, allowing it to drop to the floor with a thud. His large hands encompassed her small foot, tenderly moving it about. “Where does it hurt, darling?”

  “A bit higher.” Goodness, she was growing rather adept at prevarication. His hands crept to her ankle and warm, lazy heat slid through her.

  “Your ankle?” He glanced up from his task, eyes darkening. “I thought you said you hurt your toe.”

  “I was mistaken.” She raised her hem again.

  His palms skimmed up over her calf, approaching her knee. “Where does it pain you?”

  “Everywhere,” she whispered, gaze fastened to him.

  “God, Cleo.” Thornton’s hands were traveling without provocation now, gliding past her knee to the delicate skin of her thigh. His fingers caught in her garters and unfastened them. “I’m about to lose control.”

  “Then lose it,” she dared.

  He lowered his head like a supplicant and placed a kiss on her bare skin. “I don’t want to hurt you or the babe.”

  “You can only do that by holding yourself apart from me.” She reached out to him, running her fingers through his thick, beautiful hair. “I know you’re doing your utmost to see to my every comfort. But without you, I find I’m quite miserable.” Cleo sniffed, trying not to embarrass herself with a display of tears.

  “You are not without me, love.” He met her gaze. “I’m right here before you.”

  Of course he was before her, the dolt. Did he not understand the difference between physical and emotional presence? “You are not here. You’ve grown cold and I…I miss you, Alex. I need you to come back to me.”

  “It was you who left.”

  “Will you punish me forever?”

  Thornton yanked his hand from her leg as if he’d been scalded. His jaw clenched as he stood. “Were you lying about your toe?”

  “No. It hurt like the devil.” He had begun pacing, so she rose from the bed. “But not as much as my heart hurts.”

  He stilled, but kept his back to her. Cleo toed off her other shoe and followed him, wrapping her arms about him from behind. “I love you,” she told him. “I have always loved you, from the first. It seems that where you’re concerned I’ve made foolish decision after foolish decision and if you do not trust me, I cannot blame you. But know that I love you, with all my heart. I couldn’t have found a better husband or a finer man than you. I do not deserve you.”

  He kept silent for what seemed like forever. Had she revealed too much? Did he no longer care? Before any more questions could pass through her mind, he turned in her arms. “I’ve been an ass.”

  The bald pronouncement startled her. He cupped her face in his palms and kissed her. It was deep, thorough, hungry. It was a kiss that spoke to the torment within him, the confusion, the anger, the—dare she think it—love. Her tongue played against his. He tasted like the hot chocolate he must have had with his breakfast and desire. Her fingers were in his hair again, his hands pushing her wrap from her shoulders and going for the fastenings of her bodice.

  He still loved her. Damn it, of course he did. Always had, always would. But he had wanted to hold onto his anger and use it as a weapon against her. He was afraid of everything when it came to Cleo, that he couldn’t trust her, that she didn’t love him enough, that he loved her too much. Christ, he did love her too much. It was as if he carried a giant splinter in his chest each moment he spent knowing she was somewhere within Marleigh Manor and yet separated from him.

  He wanted to consume her, taste her every inch of sweet skin, bury himself inside her so deep he never had to leave. Of course that wasn’t possible. But his cock wanted him to at least give it a go. He heard fabric tearing, but he was so bent on ravaging her delicious mouth that he didn’t stop to see the damage he’d done. It seemed he had a habit of destroying her attire.

  Her hands came between them abruptly and he was dimly aware of her pushing him away. He broke the drugging kiss with reluctance, his breathing ragged and raw as he looked down at her beautiful upturned face. Truly, no woman could compare. Her pale skin was flushed with passion, her full mouth swollen from his kiss.

  “What is it?” he demanded, not feeling particularly generous at the moment. He hadn’t seen her naked in ages and all he could think of was how beautiful it would be to weigh her delicious breasts in his palms and suck the tips into his mouth until she was as far gone as he was.

  “There’s a servant at the door,” she murmured. “I believe it’s the tea you requested.”

  “To hell with the frigging tea,” he yelled in the general direction of the door. “Go away and don’t come back or I’ll see you sacked.”

  “Alex!”

  “I don’t give a shite, Cleo. I’m starving for you.”

  “You certainly have not been acting it.”

  Ah, ever a ready tongue. That was his Cleo. Always ready with a retort, an argument. She was not a manageable female, never would be. Fortunately, he knew how to silence her. He kissed her again and pulled her bodice completely open. The chemise was short work and she happily wore no corset. His hands were filled with warm, soft flesh and his prick was stiff as hell.

  “I love you.” The words left him in a rush, a mad release. He couldn’t run from it any longer. He kissed her neck, her collarbone, her ear. “Promise me you’ll never leave me again, my darling.”

  “I promise.” Her fingers scrabbled over his buttons, yanking them from their moorings. “I love you, Alex.”

  They did away with one another’s clothing and fell to the bed in a frenzy. He’d wanted to savor her, to go more slowly, but it wasn’t going to happen that way. He tongued her nipple, her answering moan going straight to his groin. With his knee, he nudged her legs apart. His fingers found her wet flesh. His thumb worked her sensitive nub while his fingers teased in and out of her passage, working her into a crescendo of passion.

  “I can’t wait,” he muttered into the curve of her breast.

  “Nor can I.” She moaned
again. “Hurry, my love.”

  He didn’t need further encouragement. Bracing himself over her, he sheathed himself in one, sharp thrust. Her breath hissed and he felt quite certain his heart stopped. She undulated her hips beneath him, bringing him deeper, tightening around him and nearly making him climax instantly.

  “Jesus.” He was going to embarrass himself. A month without being in her bed and he’d turned into a bloody callow youth. “You’re going to kill me, woman.”

  “I can’t think of a better way to die.”

  Her smile was gorgeous, fey, alluring. He kissed it from her lips, claiming her with his mouth the same way he claimed her with his body. They began a rhythm together, straining against one another, almost violent in their mutual desire to possess one another completely. Again and again, he pumped his cock into her until he recognized the hitch in her breath, the change in her smoky green eyes, her soft, breathy moan of pleasure. She tightened around him sending him climaxing along with her.

  He rolled to his side, spent, taking her with him and molding her body to his. They were mutually breathless. He felt as if he’d been thrown from a moving train and had miraculously survived the fall.

  “Don’t leave me ever, darling.” He dropped a kiss on her flushed cheek. “I’ll send my mother to the dower house and give my sister a dressing down. I can’t lose you again.” There was a slight, perfect curve to her soft belly now, the first sign of the changes that were about to unfold for them.

  “I don’t want you to pack off your family for me, though sending away the dowager is indeed a tempting offer.” She sighed. “I think she shall just have to accustom herself to me as I will accustom myself to her. When the child comes, she may soften.”

  Thornton thought that was rather generous of her, since he’d known his mother for his entire life and the old bird had never softened a bit. Instead of pointing that out, he dropped another kiss on her cheek, nuzzling her silky skin. “Have I told you that I love you?”

  “Mmm.”

  “And that you have the most brilliant breasts I’ve ever seen?” He cupped one as he asked.