Her Lovestruck Lord: 2 (Wicked Husbands)

by Scarlett Scott

  “I could have helped you,” she said, giving voice to the thought that had been a constant, painful reminder during his absence. “You pushed me away when all I wanted was to lessen your suffering.”

  His grip tightened upon her. “You would have thrown yourself beneath an oncoming carriage for me. I saw it in your eyes that night, and I couldn’t bear it. I had already hurt Eleanor, and I couldn’t bear to hurt you too.”

  Had he truly been motivated by fear that he would do her harm? It would explain his abrupt departure, certainly. She wanted to believe him. He looked suddenly forlorn, the fierceness of his anger drained from him, replaced by a vulnerability he’d never before exhibited.

  “Your leaving hurt me more than anything else could have done,” she told him quietly, taking pity on him but not enough to relent.

  “I’m sorry.”

  The simple statement shocked her. The Marquis of Sandhurst, the man who had once lived with his mistress in flagrant disregard for their marriage, stood before her, thin and sad, utterly humbled. She never would have thought she’d see the day. Oh, he had apologized to her before, but only for trifling matters, and it had never been so complete, so earnest. In a sense, she was vindicated. In another sense, it was still far too little from him, given far too late.

  When she didn’t respond, he continued. “I’m sorry I began our marriage as I did. I’m sorry for every hurt I ever inflicted upon you. And I’m sorry as hell that I left you in the manner I did. I have nothing to say for myself, Maggie. I don’t blame you if you can’t find it in your heart to forgive me. I’ve done wrong by you, and I know it.”

  His admission startled her as much as his apology had. She longed to show him a sign of tenderness, to cup his bristled cheek, to draw his mouth down to hers. But she could not. Her heart wouldn’t allow her to trust him. Another blow would be too much.

  “I’m afraid your apology, while appreciated, is too tardy to be of consequence,” she forced herself to say, feeling numb.

  “Goddamn it, Maggie, what would you have me do?” he demanded, reverting to the stern stranger who had strode through the doors of Nell’s drawing room not long before.

  “Return to your life just as I shall return to mine,” she said, even though it was truly the last thing she wanted. It had become a matter of what she must do instead. The choice was a heavy one.

  “No.” His lips compressed into a firm line. “I don’t want my old life. I want a life with you. I want what we were beginning to have, damn it.”

  So had she. Once. Now she couldn’t trust herself with him. She struggled to remove herself from his grip and succeeded this time. After taking a step in retreat, she hugged herself protectively. “If you require me to live with you, I will have no choice but to acquiesce. However, I’m afraid that our month as lovers is all we shall ever have.”

  “If I require you?” He clenched his jaw. “What the devil do you think I am, some sort of tyrant?”

  She stared at him, wishing it were easier, that they could turn back the clock and avoid all the misery between them. Wishing she did not have to remain so steadfast in her determination not to allow him back into her life in any way that truly mattered.

  “I suppose I should be glad you didn’t answer,” he said grimly. “Christ, I won’t force you into anything you don’t wish. You ought to know that much.”

  “Very well,” she said firmly. “Then I want to remain here with Lady Needham for the time being.”

  “With that reprobate Tobin slobbering all over you like a horny dog? I think not,” he scoffed.

  “Sandhurst,” she protested, growing frustrated.

  “Damn it to hell, call me by my given name,” he bit out. “If you want me to fight for you, I shall. But at the very least you can cease your pretense of unfamiliarity.”

  He wanted to fight for her? A foolish spark of hope ignited in her breast. She forced herself to snuff it out. “You’ve proven to me that it’s not a pretense.”

  He raised a brow, his eyes hot upon her. “Need I remind you, my dear?”

  There it was again, a glimpse of the polished gentleman she’d once come to know still hiding beneath his rough exterior. How she wished none of the awfulness had ever happened. If only Lady Billingsley were still alive and well, if only Maggie had never left that day, if only Simon had not followed her, if only they had found love immediately instead of a year too late. The possibilities were innumerable for how they might have never reached this current, desperate crossroads.

  But they had.

  “I don’t require reminding,” she told him stoically.

  “I think perhaps you do,” he returned, closing the distance between them in two strides.

  He reached for her, his hands clamping on her waist this time, drawing her body flush against his. She couldn’t fight her response. She had missed him, his touch, his kiss, his glittering green eyes, everything about him. Even his arrogance and his bluster. Despite her misgivings, she slid her arms around his lean waist, splaying her palms on his back. He felt different now than he had before, harder, stronger. Her gaze never left his.

  With a surprising show of gentleness, he caressed her cheek. She could almost believe that he cared for her. Emotion flickered dark and demanding in his eyes. Perhaps he had missed her as she had missed him. Perhaps he too had suffered in his self-imposed exile.

  “My God, Maggie,” he half whispered, half groaned.

  Before she could manage further thought, he lowered his lips to hers. She kissed him back because she had to, couldn’t not, and as much as she knew she shouldn’t allow him to breach her defenses, she reveled in the feeling of his mouth on hers. She hugged him to her, her breasts smashed against his chest, wishing she could wrap herself around him, cling to him always. Wishing there wasn’t so much melancholy hiding beneath the simmering desire between them.

  His tongue swept inside her mouth, toying with hers, tasting and claiming as she longed for him to do. Her resistance was fast unraveling, a great ball of yarn tossed down a mountainside. He sank his fingers into her hair, undoing her lady’s maid’s elaborate pinning of earlier in the day. She didn’t give a damn. They kissed again and again, neither one of them particularly caring for taking a breath. She remembered. She remembered everything, every glorious moment of being in his bed, in his arms.

  Her breasts tightened, her suddenly aching cunny going wet. She wanted him still. Wanted him more than she wanted to write another poem or take another dance in the rain. Wanted him more than anything, even after all that had transpired between them. Dear heavens. She had to stop the madness before she lost her head and her heart both.

  She turned her face away, breaking the seemingly endless kiss. When she would have disentangled herself from his embrace, he held her fast with the hand that still clung to her waist. He pressed his cheek to hers, his whiskers a not entirely unwanted abrasion on her skin. His nose sank into her hair just behind her ear as he inhaled deeply of her scent. She tried not to notice that he held her as if she were the last possession he had on earth.

  “I need you,” he murmured into her ear, his breath hot, his lips grazing the delicate shell. “You haven’t any idea just how much.”

  Maggie squeezed her eyes shut against the tears that threatened to fall. So many emotions coursed through her that she couldn’t make sense of what she felt, what she ought to be feeling. Her heart was decidedly at war with her mind. “I cannot do this,” she managed to say.

  “You can.” The hand that had undone her coiffure slid to the nape of her neck, gently caressing. “I won’t lose you, not now.”

  “You already have,” she argued, hating herself for saying the words, wishing she could recall them the moment they’d been spoken. But it was necessary, wasn’t it? She had to force him away, keep him at a safe distance while she rediscovered her defenses.

  He drew his head back and looked down at her, pinning her with his gaze. “I haven’t, Maggie. I can feel it in your response to
me.”

  She wished he wasn’t so perceptive. “I will always treasure the time we shared, but it’s over now and can never be again.”

  “Look in my eyes and tell me that you feel nothing for me,” he demanded, unrelenting in his quest to win the battle if not the war.

  She couldn’t. He knew it. Her gaze went past his shoulder, focusing on the oversize desk on the far side of the room. “Please release me.”

  He surprised her by doing as she asked, removing his embrace and stepping away from her. She felt the absence of his touch immediately. “I’ll release you for today. But not for forever. You’re mine, and I’m bloody well going to win you back.”

  Wrapping her arms protectively around herself, she turned to flee the room. She couldn’t remain in his presence a moment longer, for if she did, she feared she would lose herself to him all over again. And surely that would be the greatest mistake she’d ever make, even if resisting him would prove nearly impossible.

  Chapter Ten

  Well, good sweet Christ. He was going to have to court his wife. Simon hadn’t anticipated that. He had expected—foolishly, he acknowledged—a warm homecoming, a happy wife who threw her arms about him and took him promptly to bed. Instead, he’d been met with a rigid spitfire who refused to bend even after he’d kissed the bloody hell out of her.

  She hadn’t been unmoved, of course. He’d felt it in her response to him, the way her body had melted ever so slightly into his. He had seen her determination wavering in her eyes. But she had remained firm in her resolve to keep him at a distance. In the end, she’d walked out of Nell’s study, slamming the door at her back and leaving him in her dust with nothing more than a hard cock and a battered heart.

  But he certainly wasn’t defeated. His gracious hostess had given him a chamber, and he’d had a bath and change of clothes. Admittedly, he should have seen to the two latter items before striding into Nell’s drawing room in a frenzy of fury. But he had been desperate, his mind whirling with the implications of Maggie leaving Denver House for Nell’s den of iniquity, and he hadn’t stopped to think about the vagaries of polite society. It had been foolishness fueled by a lack of sleep, he realized. He’d been stupid and cruel to her, ass that he was.

  Now it was a new day, and he was prepared to undo his first disastrous attempt at winning back his wife. He stopped before her chamber door and delivered a series of loud knocks. He’d learned from Nell that Maggie had been hiding herself away from the company since his arrival the previous day. She hadn’t been to breakfast. It was time for her to emerge from her cocoon.

  The door opened to reveal her lady’s maid’s plain, frowning visage. “My lord?”

  “Is Lady Sandhurst within?” he asked, trying not to allow his irritation to show. He very much felt as if the woman were acting the part of a guard at the castle doors.

  The maid blinked. “I’m afraid Lady Sandhurst isn’t receiving visitors.”

  Giving her a frown of his own, he caught the door in his hand lest she attempt to close it on him. “I’m afraid that I’m not a visitor. I’m her husband, and I require an audience with her at once.”

  “I’m sorry, my lord.” The woman’s expression went from displeased to anxious. “She’s given me express instructions not to allow anyone to enter.”

  “Well, where the devil is she?” Christ, this was bordering on ridiculous. He didn’t appreciate being treated like a vagabond at his wife’s bloody chamber door.

  “She’s at her bath,” the maid responded.

  The simple sentence brought a host of sensual images to mind. Maggie sleek and glistening, her breasts bare, her glorious red hair down about her creamy shoulders. He imagined her soaping herself with a cloth, his hand replacing hers, imagined rubbing her stiff nipples. Oh bloody hell. He was getting hard already. He forced his mind back to the moment.

  “Excellent,” he snapped, putting his shoulder to the door and creating enough leverage to push the unwanted female aside. He stepped over the threshold and into Maggie’s chamber.

  “But my lord—”

  “Your services are no longer needed,” he interrupted her smoothly. “Her ladyship shall ring if you’re required.”

  He could tell the instant she knew she’d been thoroughly routed, for her eyes lowered to the floor and her face went ashen. She had been torn between loyalty to her mistress and the knowledge that he was her employer, he knew. He had won. She dipped into a curtsy. “Yes, my lord.”

  Simon waited for her to hastily exit the chamber before turning to the closed door that undoubtedly led to a bathing chamber. And his naked wife. His cock twitched. He forced himself to rein in his desire for her. She needed time. Wooing. He had hurt her again, and he understood that. He damn well couldn’t rush into the room, pull her warm, slippery body from the tub, bend her over, and sink deep inside her sweet cunny. No matter how much he wanted to.

  No.

  Winning Maggie back would require far more tact and control than that. If he even could win her back. The unwanted thought struck him like a lead ball to the gut. He’d meant what he said. He couldn’t lose her. He hadn’t managed to make sense of much in the time he’d been gone other than to realize that he couldn’t be without her. He needed her smile, her silliness, her passion, her poetry, and every other dizzying American bit of her.

  He crossed the chamber and opened the door keeping him from her, taking care to be as quiet as possible. The tub was large and deep, dominating the small tiled room. Her back was to him, her hair not unbound as he had imagined but piled high atop her head. He took in the graceful sweep of her neck and shoulders. Her bare arms were stretched over the lip of the tub on either side of her. In the silence, he recognized the hushed sound of her breathing.

  She was asleep. Simon crossed the threshold, thinking perhaps it was a boon. After all, if he took her by surprise, she wouldn’t have the chance to throw her soap at his head. When he reached the tub, he sank to his knees behind her. The delicious, floral scent of her bathwater reached him. Roses. He pressed his face into her hair, inhaling. He’d never get tired of her sweet scent. Unable to stop himself, he ran his palms over her bare shoulders, down her arms, stopping when he reached her hands. He tangled his fingers in hers as he kissed her ear. No one had ever made him feel as passionately as Maggie did.

  No one.

  She shifted suddenly, jolted awake by the contact, and turned to face him. Water sloshed over the side of the tub, some of it landing on his boots, but he didn’t care. The expression on her face flitted from frightened to taken aback.

  “Simon?” She sounded breathless as she eyed him with undisguised trepidation. “Where is Osborn? What are you doing in here?”

  He almost smiled at her quick round of questions. The lady was not immune, that much was apparent. Good. His gaze traveled hungrily over her face, appreciating the undeniable beauty she possessed. She was rare, his Maggie, like a wildflower bright and defiant amongst the weeds.

  “That’s rather a lot of questions,” he remarked slowly, wanting to touch her again but not wishing to make her retreat any farther than she’d already gone, to the opposite end of the tub.

  “It’s only two,” she said, licking her luscious lips in her obvious nervousness.

  “Three,” he corrected, ignoring his knees as they began to ache from remaining so long upon the hard floor.

  Her brows snapped together. “Did you come here to quibble over arithmetic?”

  Ever stubborn, his Maggie. “Of course not.”

  “Then perhaps you’d care to answer one of my three questions,” she rejoined.

  And ever the quick wit, even nude and gorgeous, attempting to shield her breasts from his gaze. Too late. He’d already caught a mouthwatering glimpse of her pretty nipples. “I came here to ask you if you’d like to accompany me on a ride,” he said honestly. “But when I arrived, you were at your bath.”

  “I haven’t any idea why Osborn would allow you in here.” Her vibrant eyes n
arrowed in suspicion. “What have you done with her?”

  He would have smiled were the tension between them not so very deep. “I’ve dismissed her.”

  “You had no right to do so. I still have need of her assistance.” Twin patches of red marred her cheeks as her ire grew.

  “I’ll assist you,” he said helpfully. “I shall do a most thorough job of applying soap to your breasts.”

  She stared. “Are you making a jest?”

  Well, Christ, he supposed he was. Fancy that. Being back in her presence did things to him. Warmed his cold heart. Made him feel as if he weren’t so unbearably alone in this life of his. He cleared his throat, wondering if he’d truly gone mad in the wake of Eleanor’s death or if it was simply that Maggie somehow cast aside everything he’d ever thought he’d known about himself. Perhaps a bit of both, he decided.

  What the devil had she said? He was having difficulty focusing with her breasts barely shielded by her arms and her luscious legs visible beneath the water. Ah, yes. “I would be happy to help you,” he offered again.

  “That’s not necessary,” she denied quickly. “I can do for myself.”

  She didn’t want him to touch her, he realized. He hoped that it was because she couldn’t trust herself and not because she despised him. He knew he had never treated her with the respect and consideration she deserved. He had hurt her too many times to hope she could forgive him, but he was a selfish bastard and he was willing to try to earn her forgiveness anyway.

  “Nonsense,” he countered. “Tell me what assistance you need, and I shall but give it.”

  She pursed her lips together, looking as if she smelled something rotten in the chamber. “I need you to leave.”

  Certainly not the answer he’d been seeking. He’d had enough of the peculiar game they played. He stood, deciding to press his advantage after all, and then walked to the opposite end of the tub. She stared up at him with wide eyes, but didn’t slide away from him immediately as he’d thought she might. A small victory. He sank to his knees so that they were once more gaze to gaze. She was very near to him, close enough to kiss.