by Tarah Scott
The older woman chuckled. “I doubt that. Mr. Halloway was quite gallant, as was your Bartholomew.”
“Indeed they were,” she agreed. “I thank God for all of you.”
“Speaking of Halloway,” Henry said, “where is he?”
“I believe he was seeing to the two highwayman we captured.”
“Captured?” the marquess blurted. “You said nothing of this.”
“Didn’t I?” she said.
“Madam, after you have that talk with your daughter about obedience, you and I will have a talk of our own.”
“Of course, my lord. But for now, I should like to return to Barthmont Keep.”
“Aye,” he agreed.
She looked at Lady Mary. “Your brother is in good hands and Lady Arlington is a most gracious host.”
“She has been most kind, ma’am. She has offered to let my brother stay until the doctor gives him leave to make the journey home.”
“Where is home?” Montagu asked.
“Fortose.”
“That requires a journey by ship. It will be some time before your brother can travel.”
“The doctor estimates a week, maybe two,” she said. “Lady Arlington has been so kind—everyone has been so kind.” Tears began to roll down her cheeks and Lady Montagu took the girl into her arms.
The marchioness looked at Montagu. “Perhaps we will leave a little later.” She pulled back from Lady Mary, who swiped at her tears and straightened. “Why don’t we have a cup of tea?” Lady Montagu asked.
“I believe I would rather sit with my brother—if you don’t mind.”
“I don’t mind at all. I fully understand. And since you will be here for an extended stay, we will come and visit you again.”
Lady Mary’s eyes glistened with more tears. “Would you?”
“Why, of course,” the marchioness said. “We are to be at Lady Allaway’s home for another nine days—or more. You know how these parties go. I wager you and your brother will leave before we do.”
“I would be so pleased to see you—all of you.”
She left, and Wylst said, “Crawford. I don’t recognize the name.”
“Her brother is the Earl of Crawford,” the marchioness said. “Their father died suddenly a little more than a month ago. I doubt they get to London much, I gather the Earl was something of a recluse.”
Nicholas caught the lecherous glance Wylst cast at the girl as she disappeared out the door. The man was a parasite.
“I will say our goodbyes to Arlington,” Montagu said.
Josephine rose and surprised Nicholas by slipping her hand into the crook of his arm. She had, he realized, remained uncharacteristically quiet the last few minutes.
“I am very ready to return to Barthmont Keep,” she said. “Our horses ran away, however.”
Nick covered her hand with his. “Perhaps Lord Arlington will loan us his carriage.”
She nodded, and Nicholas noted the tired look in her eyes. He also noticed that she kept a firm hold on his arm as they chatted while Montagu arranged for transportation back to Barthmont Keep. Something was wrong, but what? In the weeks since his return, she hadn’t encouraged him, much less clung to him as she was doing now. What had changed?
“It’s a shame you weren’t able to have your picnic,” Wylst said.
“There will be other days,” Lady Montagu said.
“It is early yet,” Wylst said. “The afternoon might yet be salvaged.”
Josephine’s fingers tightened around Nicholas’ arm, then relaxed as she said, “We have lost our horses and food.”
Nick suddenly knew what it was that had her worried: Wylst.
Chapter Nine
Josephine’s hand shook as she stared at the note that she found sitting on her nightstand.
Meet me tonight in the chapel at one a.m.
There was no signature, but she knew the sender’s identity.
She sank down on the bed. Dear God, she had to end this. Nicholas was not going to call off the wedding, and Lord Wylst would eventually tell everyone the truth. It wouldn’t matter that she had given him all she had, maybe even all she could take from Nicholas. All that would matter is that her funds would eventually run dry. He would fly into a rage and tell everyone the whole terrible story. She had to put an end to this. Put an end to him.
Fortified with brandy she’d filched from the drawing room, at two minutes to one, Josephine closed the door to the tiny chapel with a click. The meager light that shone from a lone candle sitting on the altar seemed to glow against the small alcove. Jo shook her head to clear her senses. A pew sat to the left and right of the altar. Lord Wylst sat on the right.
“What do you want?” she demanded.
“Sit down,” he said.
“I will not be staying.”
“Sit down, Josephine.”
She hesitated, then crossed to the pew opposite him and sat down.
“Why did you not return to Barthmont Keep with the other women when you encountered the highwayman?” he asked.
She blinked in surprise. “What?”
“I will not have you getting shot in some ridiculous robbery.”
It took several heartbeats before she understood. “You are afraid I will die and you will no longer be able to extort money from me.”
“You will take no more such chances,” he said. “Defy me on this point, and I will shatter your familial bliss. You are to marry Grayson and bear him sons.”
Rhoslyn stared. Of all the things she had imagined the baron saying, this wasn’t one of them. Then she understood. “If I give him children, he is less likely to shut me up somewhere where I do not have access to his money.”
“You are very shortsighted,” the baron said. “I am intelligent enough to know that you can filch only so much from your husband’s accounts.”
A more terrible truth hit with the force of a gale wind, causing her heart to pound. “You intend to tell him the truth once we are married. You believe he will pay to protect my reputation.”
“What he will do is make a good business partner.”
“Business partner? You think—” She could scarce believe it. “You are mad if you think Nicholas will make you his business partner. It is far more likely he will kill you.”
A malicious smile spread across his face. “Even your husband would not dare kill his wife’s father.”
* * *
A howl of wind rattled the shutters in Nicholas’ bedchamber. He looked up from the book he was reading in front of the fire as the shutters broke loose from their hook and swung open. He set aside the book, rose, and reached the window in time to grab the shutters as another blast of wind whipped through the room. Nick started to pull them closed, then paused at sight of a cloaked figure emerging from the trees onto the garden path leading to the castle.
Which of Lady Allaway’s female guests had braved the cold night for an assignation outdoors? They might easily have met in one of the myriad of vacant rooms. He hadn’t missed the byplay between Mrs. Cowan and Lord Hartley. Mrs. Cowan was a widow, but Lord Hartley’s wife was alive and well—though not present at the party. A convenient happenstance that allowed for all sorts of opportunities.
The woman lifted her skirts and hurried her pace along the path. She neared the turn that would take her out of his view and led toward the path beneath the arched bridge. Nicholas laughed. Apparently even a widow of middle age could be as lustful as a young woman. He recalled Josephine’s response to him yesterday afternoon and—the woman’s hood whipped from her head with a gust of wind. Stunned disbelief froze him.
Josephine.
Josephine’s bedchamber door creaked open and Nicholas drank the last of his whiskey in one gulp, then rested the glass on his knee. He considered refilling the glass from the decanter on the floor beside the chair where he sat. He’d finished off two glasses before she reached her bedchambers and he had begun to wonder if she had left one man to meet another.
He relaxed against the cushion of the wing backed chair and watched as she carefully closed the door then turned and collapsed, her back against the wood. Her eyes were closed in obvious relief. He waited, body tense, for the moment she opened her eyes. Only embers lit the room, but once she took a step or two, she wouldn’t be able to miss him sitting before the hearth.
He’d believed that there was nothing she could do to force him to let her go, he had sworn as much to Montagu. But he now wondered how many times he could watch her return to her bed—his bed—knowing she’d come from another man’s arms. How long would it take to chip away at his heart until there was nothing left...until he could feel nothing for her, or any other woman?
This assignation wasn’t like the one with Beaumond. There was no one to flaunt her indiscretions to here as there had been yesterday afternoon. There was only one reason she would meet a man in secret: she loved him. Nicholas had racked his brain in an effort to guess the identity of her lover. No one at the party made any sense. Then he’d realized the man didn’t have to be a guest. It would be a simple thing for a man to meet her on the grounds.
Was another man the reason she was trying to get out of the marriage? Could there someone else? Every fiber of his being screamed no! He remembered the hunger in her eyes when he first returned...the hunger in her touch only yesterday. No woman could respond to a man that way and want another man—not her...not with him. Yet, she’d said a woman’s kiss could lie.
She didn’t move and he almost thought she had fallen asleep standing. Nick wanted to jump to his feet and shake from her the name of the man who made love to her tonight. But he forced himself to sit like a statue. He wanted the man’s name—and he would have it—but he also wanted to see the surprise and fear in her eyes when she saw him. He wanted to read the truth in her expression. Then he would kill the man.
Another moment passed, then Nicholas heard a small sound from her. At first he thought she’d seen him, then realized her eyes were still closed. How long was she going to stand there? Was he mistaken? Had she seen him? Was this her childish way of trying to avoid him? His heart hardened. He wouldn’t be swayed by childish ploys—and he wouldn’t give her up. He had burned for her this last month...these last six years. Now he would make her burn for him.
Josephine abruptly pushed away from the door. She took two steps, then their eyes met. She stopped so abruptly her cloak swished around her ankles. Nicholas saw the glisten of tears in her eyes. His heart hardened harder. He would not be moved by tears any more than he would childish tantrums. Aguish flooded her gaze, then she threw her face into her hands and gave a sob that wrenched his gut and shattered the ice around his heart in one ear-splitting blow.
In an instant, he was on his feet and at her side. “Love, ‘tis all right.” He grasped her shoulders. She stiffened, but he drew her gently to him and wrapped his arms around her. “Shhh,” he soothed. “Never mind. I care nothing for where you have been tonight. You’re here, safe with me now.”
Another wretched sob from her twisted him soul-deep. He closed his eyes and held her close. He couldn’t let her go, no matter what she’d done. Never.
Nicholas felt the tug on his shirt and realized she had fisted the fabric. Her tears weren’t abating and he feared she would work herself into a serious state of nerves
“I promise, love, whatever it is—” whoever it is “—I forgive you.”
She began to shake her head. Nicholas grasped her face between her palms and forced her to look up at him. She tried to turn away, but he held her firm. “Look at me.”She shook her head. “Josephine.”
Her eyes lifted to his face.
“I will not let you go. I do not care—” the words lodged in his throat, but he forced them out “—I don’t care who he is. I can make you forget him.”
Her dark eyes widened, and Nick found himself lowering his mouth onto hers. Her mouth parted in surprise as his lips touched hers and desire exploded in him. He thrust his tongue inside her mouth, kissed her deep. God, he wanted to toss her onto the bed and drive into her to prove once and for all that she belonged to him. But a quick rutting between her legs was probably all her lover had risked. Nicholas intended to give her more, so much more. He swept her mouth with his tongue, teasing, thrusting gently to show her what he intended to do to her with his body. She drew a sharp breath, sucking him deeper. Blood roared in his head.
Nicholas yanked the tie on her cloak and pushed it from her shoulders. She went up on tiptoes and slid her arms around his back. He crushed her so close it seemed their two hearts beat as one. A soft mewl from her sent his head spinning. With a growl, Nicholas slid his mouth along her cheek then down her throat. Her throat shifted beneath his lips when she swallowed and he flicked his tongue against the rise of her smooth flesh. He felt her shiver, and cursed. He needed her skin to be against his. Nick drew her backward until they tumbled onto the mattress, her on top of him. When her feather-light body crashed down on his erection in exquisite discomfort, pleasure ripped through him.
Insane. She was going to drive him insane with need.
He slid his hands down her back and over the curve of her buttocks. She jerked in obvious surprise causing pleasure and pain to collide in his cock. Her hair tumbled across his jaw. The firm flesh of her buttocks molded to his hands perfectly and he undulated her mound against his rigid length. She drew a sharp breath and Nicholas knew he couldn’t turn back.
Palms flat on her back, he slid his hands back up her waist to her shoulders—bare shoulders, he realized, and she wore no corset.
Easier for a dalliance, a voice whispered.
Could he slide inside her knowing another man had already filled her with his seed? More important, could he walk away?
No.
Nicholas rolled over, pinning her beneath him on the mattress. Carefully, ruthlessly, he shoved aside the whispers inside his head and tugged the tiny sleeves down her arms until her breasts were bared to him. The pink tips puckered under his scrutiny.
“Beautiful,” he whispered.
He bent and closed his mouth over one perfect bud. She cried out and her grip on his shoulders turned fierce when he sucked the hard tip into his mouth. The feel of the marbled nipple against his tongue was an aphrodisiac unlike any he’d experienced with another woman. He flicked the tip with his tongue. She drew in a sharp breath. He broke away and slid his mouth along her velvet smooth skin down the curve of the breast to the valley and up the side of the other breast until he found the nipple. She exhaled on a shaky breath and Nicholas was in heaven.
He clamped his teeth around the tip, laving and sucking until she whimpered. Slowly, he flattened a palm on her belly and tugged her dress up to her waist, then inched his hand downward along her flesh to the moist heat between her legs. When his finger dipped into her curls, the room darkened around him and need pressed hard against his very soul. Whatever it took, whatever the price, he would make her his, now and forever.
As he stoked her, Nick showered wet kisses along her skin up to her mouth again. Jo opened for him and greedily sucked his tongue into her mouth. Nick thought he would go out of his mind with need. But he wanted to go slowly, show her she wasn’t a woman to be taken in the woods then sent on her way through the cold night to sleep alone in her bed. She was to be cherished, worshipped...protected.
Nick stroked with his finger, while thrusting his tongue into her mouth, until Josephine gripped his arms in a fierce hold and clamped her legs around his hand in a spasm of pleasure. He swallowed her cry as she shivered. His heart thundered, body tense with a need beyond even that he had expected. Still, he gently petted and soothed, adding kisses, and whispered that she was beautiful. When her breathing at last slowed, he pulled back. She gave a cry of protest.
“Easy, love.”
He rose to his knees and stared down at her. Desire glazed her eyes and a sheen of sweat glistened on her skin. She was beautiful.
“Nick,” she murmured.
; “Aye, love. I know.”
He rose and shucked his shirt and trousers, then knelt on the bed beside her again. Her gaze fixed on his engorged cock and her mouth parted in a silent gasp. Nicholas didn’t bother denying the satisfaction her response elicited in him. She wanted him. No other man mattered.
She shifted and Nick froze when she reached out a hand and tentatively touched him. Sight of her slim fingers, pale against the darker skin of his rod, sent the blood pumping through him with a madness he feared would shove aside any noble notions he harbored of making gentle love to her. He wanted to drive into her until she exploded around him.
He intended to shove her hand away. Instead, he watched as she brushed her fingertips along his rigid cock. Lust tightened his bollocks in pleasurable pain as she slowly wrap her fingers around him. When her grip tightened, he thrust in her grasp. His member glided upward until her fingers encircled him at the base and her palm edge bumped against his bollocks. Pleasure streaked through him, but he eased downward, not stopping until the crown disappeared into her fist. She squeezed, clearly thinking she would lose her grasp, and he jerked.
Her eyes flew to his face. “I hurt you.”
Nick gave a hoarse laugh. “The most pleasant of pain. Please, do no’ stop.”
Her brow furrowed in uncertainty, but she shifted her gaze to his cock and he held his breath as she slid her hand downward until her palm edge once again bumped his bollocks, pulling the skin so tight he feared he would spew his seed on her hand. This was not how he wanted her to remember the first time she brought him to climax. But he couldn’t pull away until she had once more slid her hand upward and squeezed the moist tip of his cock. He would never grow tired of this. With a slow release of breath, he grasped her hand and pulled free.
“You don’t like that?” she asked.
“I like it too much,” he said. “But that would please only me.”
Gently, he pulled her dress downward. She lifted her hips and he tugged the dress down her legs and dropped it, his gaze fixed on the light curls that hid her secrets. Heart pounding, he came down on her, covering her mouth with his. She entwined her arms around his neck and held on as if she would never let him go. For an instant, he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t believe she was at last in his arms as he’d always imagined. This was how it was supposed to be between them.