When she turned to him, she sent him a quiet smile of thanks. The smile caught him without warning, and in her gray eyes, he caught a glimpse of warmth. As if she were glad to have him at her side. He sent her a nod, but beyond all else, he wanted her to feel safe with him. To know that he would protect her from anyone who might make her uncomfortable.
From the outskirts of the room, he was distracted by the other guests. Most were staring at Victoria with a blend of curiosity and some of the ladies eyed her with resentment. He knew several of the matrons had wanted their daughters to wed him, but he’d not expected them to view Victoria with such open hostility.
He met their gossiping whispers with his own dark stare. Offend her, and you offend me.
To their credit, most retreated to their own devices, some joining in the next dance set.
It was then that he spied Lady Meredith Baldwin approaching. His former fiancée ventured a quiet smile, but his suspicions sharpened. For a woman who had abandoned him when she’d believed him penniless, he wanted little to do with her.
“Your Grace,” Lady Meredith greeted him. “I was quite surprised to hear of your marriage.” She dropped into a curtsy before turning toward Victoria. “This must be your new duchess.”
Though her words were courteous, he didn’t miss the ice beneath them. Her gaze centered upon the diamond and pearl necklace around Victoria’s throat as if she envied it. It was clear that she’d never cared about him a whit. She had wanted control of his fortune, a fortune she’d mistakenly believed was lost. Jonathan took Victoria’s hand, sensing that Lady Meredith intended to cause trouble.
His wife murmured a polite greeting, but her face held a strain, almost as if she knew who the young woman was. Lady Meredith added, “It must be so different for you, having lived in Scotland for so long. London must be positively overwhelming.”
“We lived in London when I was a girl,” Victoria responded. “It’s quite the way I remember it.”
Jonathan resisted a smile. Good. She’d recognized the woman’s intent and parried it with her own response.
“As the daughter of a baron, I’m certain you must be feeling intimidated in your new station,” Lady Meredith continued. “Especially enduring the scandal of what happened to His Grace’s parents. Everyone here is still talking about it.” With a trill of false laughter, she added, “Perhaps your house is haunted by their ghosts, Your Grace.”
Jonathan made no effort to hide his anger. “You’ve overstepped your bounds, Lady Meredith.”
The young woman paid him no heed. In her eyes, he saw the desire for vengeance, and she saw no reason to sheathe her claws.
“I’m merely trying to warn Her Grace that it will take some time for people to stop talking of the scandal. She should be prepared for it.”
Victoria studied the woman and remarked, “I would think that after a year, most polite ladies would no longer speak of something that causes pain to others.”
Lady Meredith’s expression hardened. To Victoria she said, “I was betrothed to Worthingstone once.” Her mouth curved in a dark smile. “After what happened to his family, I suppose it’s best that our engagement ended. Who knows if that sort of thing passes down from father to son?”
A smug look spread over her face as she left. Jonathan took Victoria’s arm and guided her away. “We’re leaving.”
“She’s upset you.” Victoria stopped walking, her face concerned. “I’ve not seen you this way before.”
Meredith’s barb, suggesting that he was just like his father, had hit too close to his darker fears. The rage he’d felt toward her was an inhuman anger, barely held in check.
Jonathan gathered his control, not letting his wife glimpse any emotion at all. “I don’t want to speak of it.” His tone was harsher than he’d intended, but Victoria thankfully didn’t ask again. Instead, she fell silent and watched the women dancing. As time passed, he sensed her growing discomfort, but he’d fought hard to silence the talk over his mother’s death. He wasn’t about to enlighten her on things best forgotten.
His aunt Melanie interrupted at that moment and smiled at Victoria, greeting them both. “Have you told your wife how well she looks this evening, Worthingstone?”
He bowed to his aunt and nodded. “Of course.”
To Victoria, the older woman asked, “Forgive me, Your Grace, but I should like to steal my nephew away for a moment, if that would be all right?”
Jonathan started to protest, but Melanie wasn’t at all listening. “She’ll be just fine, won’t you, Your Grace?” She took both of his hands in hers, adding, “There, now, you see? Her sister Margaret is coming to speak with her.”
Before Jonathan realized what she was about, his aunt had guided him into the next dancing set. “My leg isn’t fully healed,” he pointed out, not wanting to leave Victoria.
“I’m twice your age,” she countered. “I think you can survive one dance with your aunt. Your wife is safe with her sister; you needn’t worry.”
He took his place across from her in the line, and Melanie sent him a discerning smile. “Her Grace is lovely, isn’t she? Everyone is talking about her and wondering how you came to marry her. But she’s so terribly shy.”
Jonathan pressed his palm against his aunt’s as they turned in the opposite direction, walking side by side. “She’s been very isolated for the past few years.”
“But she came here for you,” the older woman insisted. “Because she wanted to be your duchess.”
He took her hand in the promenade, not really believing that was the reason. But Melanie pressed further, “Sometimes, Worthingstone, you can be quite blind. That young woman cares a great deal for you.”
“I’ve provided well for her. Neither she nor her family will want for anything.” And within another few days, he would ensure their safety in Scotland.
“She doesn’t want your money, my dear boy. And I suspect you know that.”
He did. But neither did he want Victoria to look upon him with revulsion when she learned of his past. Nor did he ever want her to be afraid. He wanted to keep her shielded in his house where no one could bother her.
“She has a soft heart,” Melanie told him. “And if you love her, you’ll—”
“She didn’t marry me for love, Aunt.” Victoria had sacrificed herself on the marriage altar because he’d forced her into it.
“Whether or not she did, you have only to look upon her face to see her feelings. And if you’re wise, you’ll do everything in your power to protect them.”
The dance ended, and Jonathan bowed, taking his leave from her. He searched the room for a glimpse of Victoria.
She stood beside the door, waiting.
Jonathan stared into the embers of the fire, hours after they’d left the soiree together. Victoria had held her own as the duchess. Her quiet nature had made her appear timid to the others, but she had done nothing at all to warrant their disapproval.
He loosened his cravat and rested his head against one hand. Inside, his frustration was brewing. He should have known that the stories surrounding his parents’ death would not be silenced, even after more than a year.
After a quiet knock, the door to his room opened, and he saw his wife still wearing the emerald gown. “I thought you had gone to bed already.”
“Not yet.” Crossing the room, she came to stand before him. He could see from her posture that she was tired, but he didn’t know why she hadn’t called her maid to help her get undressed.
“Do you want me to ring for Mary?” he asked.
She shook her head and took his hands in hers. For a moment, she stood before him, as if trying to decide whether or not to stay.
“Will you tell me what happened to your parents?” she asked at last.
“No.” He had no desire to see disgust in her eyes, not when he could shelter her from it. “They died, and that’s all I’ll say.”
She came to stand behind his chair, her hands resting upon his shoulders. �
�It hurts you still.”
“Yes.” He stared into the burning coals, feeling as if the burden of the past year still weighed upon him. He’d journeyed from estate to estate, consoling his grief by escaping from his responsibilities. And the last thing he wanted was for his wife to look upon him with pity.
Her hands moved to his neck, caressing his skin. Every part of him went rigid as she bent and touched her mouth to his throat.
“I don’t want your pity,” he said, jerking away from her.
Victoria stared at him as if he’d struck her, and he took a breath to calm the edge within him. She didn’t understand how the lightest touch weakened his control. He didn’t trust himself with her right now. After the last time he’d hurt her, he wasn’t about to frighten her again.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’ll go.”
But that made him feel like even more of a bastard. She’d come here to talk with him, and his bad temper wasn’t making it any easier.
“No, you don’t have to. I’m not angry with you,” he said. Her hand stilled upon the doorknob and she returned to stand before him.
“Will you help me?” she asked, turning her back to expose the fastenings of her gown. She began pulling pins from her hair, and the honey length slid over one shoulder, entrancing him.
Jonathan unfastened the back of the gown before she raised her arms for him to lift it off. Her chemise was a pure, virginal white… but the corset was a deep green silk. It lifted her small breasts up, giving him a glimpse of curves. One of her creations, he guessed.
“Why did you come to my room, Victoria?” he asked. If she’d only wanted to talk, he was a dead man.
In answer, she guided his hands to the laces of her corset. “Because I wanted you.”
Jonathan didn’t trust himself not to take her this very moment, for as soon as he touched her, he suspected he would lose sight of everything.
“Are you sure?” he murmured, his hands clenched at his sides.
Her gray eyes regarded his with a simple trust. “You taught me not to be afraid in Scotland. I don’t want to be afraid of sharing your bed, either.”
He freed the laces, pushing the loathsome corset and the chemise away until she stood before him naked from the waist up. Her breasts were soft, tempting him to lean in and take her nipples into his mouth.
He grazed his knuckles across her breasts, watching the nipples tighten. She let out a low breath, then guided both of his hands to cup her flesh.
Chapter Eighteen
NEVER BEFORE had her heart beat this rapidly. Victoria stood in front of Jonathan, his hands tracing the outline of her small breasts. In the firelight, his face revealed tension, as if he were struggling to keep control.
She did care about this man. He’d given her the priceless gift of freedom, and although his world was foreign to her, she was glad she’d broken out of her fear.
For a time, she simply stood with her hands upon his shoulders, letting him touch her however he wanted to.
“You remind me of my mother,” he said quietly. “She was small, like you. A softhearted woman who never would have hurt anyone in her life.”
He removed his waistcoat and cravat, before lifting his shirt away. Then he drew her to stand between his legs, moving her hands to his heart. Beneath her fingertips, she felt his rapid pulse.
“And your father?” she asked.
“He was the most evil bastard I’ve ever known. He didn’t deserve a woman like my mother.”
She drew her hands over his chest, caressing his skin. His pain ran deep, mingled with guilt.
“It’s my fault she’s dead,” he confessed, his gaze empty. Victoria moved to sit on his knee and pulled him into an embrace. His head rested beneath her chin, his arms around her bare skin. “She told me to go away, not to interfere, for it would make him even more angry.”
His muscles were taut with tension, his mouth heated against her throat. The warmth of his body against hers was a comfort she hadn’t expected. And it was as if she were granting him absolution for his sins.
“He imagined all sorts of crimes against her, believing she had committed adultery.”
Victoria stroked his hair, letting him speak. Even though she didn’t truly want to hear it, she knew that he needed to let it out.
He drew back, his eyes gleaming with pain. “He used to beat her sometimes. She stopped going to parties and balls because others would have seen the bruises and scars. I remember watching her cry when I was eight years old and hating myself because I wasn’t strong enough to stop him.”
“And when you were older?” she asked.
“I went after him one night. I warned him never to touch her again, and I broke a few of his ribs.” His expression turned bitter. “He did the same to my mother the next day. I realized that the only way to keep her safe was to take her away, somewhere he wouldn’t find her.
“I gained the property in Scotland from the Earl of Strathland when he owed me a gambling debt. It was so isolated, I hoped she would leave him. But she swore she’d never abandon my father, that he loved her.” A grim expression settled over his face. “How could she love a man who treated her like that?”
Victoria touched his cheek, and he captured her hand with his. “She’s dead now, because of him.” The fierce hatred spilled forth, and a horrifying thought occurred to her, one she’d never before considered.
“Did you kill your father?” she whispered.
His features hardened, and he stared into her eyes. “I wanted to. Does that shock you?”
She shook her head, letting out a slow breath. She hadn’t believed he could do such a thing, but then, she understood his protective nature.
Jonathan released her, his gaze fixed upon the wall. “He lost his temper one night. The servants told me he struck her so hard, she fell down the stairs and broke her neck. After my father killed her, he put a pistol to his head and pulled the trigger.”
The hollow timbre of his voice held a weariness of a man who didn’t want to relive such a moment. She understood the burden he’d carried within him, and the pain of losing someone he loved so much. Her heart was filled with the need to make him whole again, to heal his grief.
“And you locked yourself away from the world.”
He nodded. “I didn’t want to see or speak to anyone. I heard the whispers, and I wanted to escape it all.”
“It’s not your fault,” she whispered. “You tried to save her.”
“It is. I should have taken her from him, no matter how much she protested. If I had, she’d still be alive.”
“It’s not your fault,” she repeated. “You gave her the choice, and she refused.” He needed to hear it, to overcome the guilt he carried.
Victoria took his face between her hands and pulled him down into a kiss. At the first touch of her mouth upon his, he grew impatient, forcing her to open. When she did, his tongue slid inside, sending a shock of sensation that echoed between her legs. His hands were upon her everywhere, spinning her own feelings into a storm of sensation and need.
“Jonathan,” she whispered, holding him close as he swept her up and brought her to the bed.
He stripped off the remainder of her clothing, before removing his own. At the sight of his naked body, she thought of the first time he’d tried to make love to her. Inside, she felt tremulous, her body rousing to his touch.
“I left London afterward because I didn’t want to face anyone for a time.” He pressed her against the cool sheets, touching her hair as he moved her to her side. “I wanted to forget how they died.”
“It will get easier. In time,” she murmured, reaching out to touch his chest. He captured her hand and held it there, and he covered her legs with one thigh.
He stretched over her, his body pressing against hers. She could feel the thickness of his arousal upon her stomach, and she reached out to touch it, cupping him in her palm. He inhaled sharply as she caressed his length, her thumb touching the blunt head
of him. A bead of moisture coated her thumb, and he pinned her wrists to the bed. “No, Victoria. Not yet.”
He held her prisoner while his mouth began a slow descent over her body, nudging her legs apart with his knee. She was shocked to feel his shaft sliding against her folds, and her body grew wet. When he drew his tongue over her nipple, she struggled against his hands. Below her waist, she strained against him and was rewarded when he slowly drew his erection against her intimate flesh.
He swirled his tongue across one breast while he guided her hand to the other nipple. “Touch yourself,” he ordered.
Embarrassment flooded through her, and she protested, “I’ve never—”
“Do it,” came his command. “You know what you like to feel. I want to watch you.”
Her cheeks burned, but when she touched her own erect nipple, a burgeoning sensation pressed downward, creating an answering ache within her swollen folds. Jonathan surged against her, and she felt herself grow even more aroused.
Emboldened by the forbidden nature of touching herself, she rolled the nipple between her fingertips. Jonathan moved her hand and licked at the delicate flesh, replacing her fingers there until the arousal grew more intense. She closed her eyes, and he guided her other hand to the other breast, murmuring words of encouragement as she touched herself. Both nipples were wet from his mouth, and she couldn’t stop her shuddering breath, a moan catching in her throat. There was a thrumming within her skin, a rise to the call he’d evoked.
His mouth moved lower, his hands spreading apart her legs. When she felt his breath against the warmth of her womanhood, she arched her back in instinctive response. His fingers found her wet, and he rubbed the hooded flesh that made her grow even more swollen. While his fingers moved upon her, she felt the warmth of his tongue licking her intimately. It was soft and wet, as if he were afraid of hurting her.
The light sensation became a slow torture as he intensified the pressure, building it higher. She needed him inside her, needed his touch to push her over the edge.
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