How to Catch an Errant Earl

by Amy Rose Bennett

  Arabella tightly plaited her fingers together, mustering the courage she needed to share every shameful detail about her past. So he would understand what drove her. “Yes, but it wasn’t for some time. Six years in fact. You see, my grandfather didn’t approve of my parents’ match as he’d heard rumors my father, William Jardine, was a scoundrel of the first order—by all accounts, he was a handsome corporal but without means. My mother Mary met him at an assembly ball—his regiment was stationed in Edinburgh—and she was instantly smitten. When they eloped, he deserted his post—my grandfather later heard that William had been charged for assaulting another soldier—and they effectively disappeared. But after eight months, when William had abandoned my mother, she wrote to her sister out of desperation; she was penniless and heavily pregnant with me in Glasgow. But Aunt Flora, who’s always been very devout, was so scandalized by what her sister had done—that she’d eloped and had entered into an irregular marriage rather than a church-sanctified union—she hid the letter . . . as well as the very last one Mary sent, which contained the details of my whereabouts and the scrap of her kerchief after she’d felt compelled to give me up. Flora believed my mother was a wanton and deserved to be shunned. And it was clear she didn’t want to have anything to do with me.”

  Arabella sighed shakily. “But that’s not the worst of it . . .” Apprehension gripped her heart, but she needed to tell Gabriel the most disturbing part of her mother’s sad tale. She plowed on. “In her last letter, my mother confessed she’d become a prostitute and that she’d taken me to the orphanage because she feared she was unwell. She hadn’t been able to find work and she’d become so desperate . . .” She swallowed to clear the ache of tears gathering in her throat. “She pleaded with Flora to ask my grandfather if she could return home, but apparently Flora was so disgusted, she completely washed her hands of her sister.”

  “Good God, Bella. I’m speechless.” Sympathy and horror colored Gabriel’s voice. “To say I’m shocked at how merciless your aunt was would be an understatement.”

  Gabriel’s words of support gave Arabella the strength to continue. “It wasn’t until years later, when I was six, that my grandfather discovered Flora had kept the letters from him. He’d forgiven my mother for eloping by then and was incensed that Flora had denied him the opportunity to reach out to his daughter, to help her when she’d needed him most. He traveled to Glasgow to claim me. And I’m so glad he did. Who knows what would have become of me otherwise.”

  “Yes, thank God he did.” Gabriel’s eyes burned with anger as he added, “And your aunt Flora is a spiteful, callous witch.”

  Arabella breathed a sigh of relief. “You’re not upset your wife might very well be the illegitimate daughter of a prostitute? I’ve been too frightened to tell you.”

  “Of course not.” Gabriel’s expression softened. “My heart weeps for what happened to your mother. It makes me despise your aunt all the more.”

  “Thank you for being so understanding.” Arabella firmed her gaze. “So you can see why supporting the poor and improving their lot in life is so important to me, Gabriel. The Great Clyde Hospital and Poorhouse was a cruel institution, and from an early age, I knew what it was like to be hungry and cold, and yes, to be unloved. If I can make things better for others in similar circumstances, I will.” She lifted her chin and added in a determined voice, “And I pray that you will help me, and not stand in my way.”

  A muscle flickered in Gabriel’s lean jaw. “By that you mean you’ll disobey me and continue to visit Dr. Radcliff and that god-awful dispensary?”

  “How dare you describe his clinic in that way,” Arabella retorted, her voice stiff with indignation. “Dr. Radcliff is a wonderful physician with progressive ideas, and my grandfather esteemed him highly. And I have nothing but the utmost respect for him too.”

  “You do, do you?” Gabriel’s expression had turned savage. “And you’d really defy me to keep on seeing him?”

  Arabella bristled. “I don’t want to defy you, but if you give me no choice, what else am I to do?” She attempted to soften her tone. “Surely we can reach a compromise. I could take more of your footmen with me to Seven Dials. Or I could arrange to see Dr. Radcliff at the Foundling Hospital. He’s on the board.”

  Gabriel’s nostrils flared with anger as he demanded, “Why are you so set on seeing him? How long have you been corresponding? Don’t think I didn’t notice that you wrote to him from Switzerland, the day after our wedding day.”

  Arabella gaped at him as she was struck by the oddest thought. “Are . . . are you jealous?”

  Gabriel’s glare was fierce. “Damn right I’m jealous. You’re my wife and you’re cultivating a relationship with another man.”

  “It’s a working relationship,” she fired back. “He’s only a friend. And you have no reason whatsoever to distrust me.”

  He snorted. “Yet you kept me at arms-length for weeks before you decided to let me into your bed again. Not that we got very far before we were interrupted. I’m beginning to wonder if you’ve been harboring a secret tendre for this medical paragon of perfection all along.”

  “That’s not fair. My reasons for keeping you at bay were quite clear. I didn’t believe I could trust you with my heart.”

  The carriage drew to a halt outside Langdale House, but before the footman opened the door, Gabriel growled, “This conversation is far from over, my sweet.”

  “Good,” huffed Arabella as she gathered up her skirts to alight. “Because I still have plenty of things left to say.”

  Ignoring Jervis’s greeting at the front door, Gabriel reached for Arabella’s hand and all but pulled her across the entry hall. He set a rapid pace and by the time they reached her sitting room, Arabella was out of breath and flushed with exertion.

  Nevertheless, she shivered when Gabriel shut the door and locked it. Tension radiated off him in waves as he turned back to face her, pinning her with a narrow-eyed, penetrating glare. “In the carriage, you didn’t immediately deny that you have tender feelings for Radcliff, my lady.” His voice was laced with suspicion. High color flagged his cheekbones. “Why is that, I wonder?”

  A fiery blush scalded Arabella’s entire face as she pulled off her pinafore and dumped it onto a nearby chair.

  “Stop . . . stop twisting things,” she countered, holding her ground in the face of her husband’s unjustified displeasure. She was still breathless, and her chest rose and fell in rapid pants. She’d done nothing wrong and had nothing to be ashamed of. She did have a girlish infatuation for the doctor once, but not anymore. “I do not care for Dr. Radcliff in that way . . . And in any case . . . I don’t see why you have cause to complain.” Resentment and outrage sharpened her tongue as she continued, “You’re the one who’s stated over and over again that you don’t think you can ever be faithful to me. I’m not the one with a long history of mindless, indiscriminate philandering. You are.” She punctuated each point with a slashing wave of her hand. “The night before our English wedding, when I had no idea where you were, you might very well have been with any one of your paramours. Someone like Lady Astley.”

  Gabriel’s eyebrows shot up. “You know about her?”

  Arabella batted away a loose curl that had become plastered to her hot cheek. “Apparently everyone in London knows about your affair with her, so why should it bother you that I know too?”

  “You have nothing to worry about where she’s concerned,” Gabriel said gruffly. He loomed over her, his own chest heaving. “I never gave a fig about her.”

  “And according to you, you don’t give a fig about me either,” she snapped. “And you never will.”

  “That’s not true. I think about you every minute of every day.” Gabriel caught her about the waist, spun her around, and pushed her up against the door, trapping her there with his lean, hard body. “Don’t you remember what I said to you before I left for Scotl
and, Bella?” Capturing her face with one large hand, his eyes seared hers. “I burn for you. I promised to be true.”

  He dipped his head, and his mouth grazed across her lips, then upward over her cheek to where her pulse beat frantically at her temple. “God help me.” His breath was hot and ragged against her ear. “Since I’ve been away, all I’ve thought about is kissing you. Peeling the clothes from your body until you are gloriously naked.” The hand at her waist slid upward to cradle her breast, and his thumb brushed over her taut, throbbing nipple. “I’ve dreamed about burying my face in your dew-drenched cunny, my tongue sliding through your golden thatch, licking and tasting every delicious little part of you until you scream my name. As I’ve lain in bed, unable to sleep, night after night, I’ve pictured myself thrusting into your beautiful body again and again until we both quake with pleasure.” Drawing back, his blazing gaze locked with hers. “I swear I want no one else but you. Let me love you.”

  Arabella fisted her hands and pushed against the rock-hard wall of Gabriel’s chest; her body urged her to surrender but her head said no. Her heart pounded in her ears. “But don’t you see?” she whispered, her voice snagging on a sob. “The problem is, you don’t love me. And I don’t know if I can believe a word you say.”

  “Well then, perhaps you will believe this.”

  Before she could draw breath to protest, Gabriel claimed her mouth in a fervent, desperate, devouring kiss. His tongue plundered, lashed against hers. His hands roamed over her body, touching and stroking everywhere, her throat, her breasts, her hips. When he seized her derriere and pulled her hard against him, his steel-hard erection pressed into the softness of her belly.

  And Arabella’s resistance melted away like a snowflake in the summer sun. She wanted Gabriel too. Wanted his drugging kisses, wanted his touch, wanted everything he had to give, even if she couldn’t have his love.

  All of a sudden he dropped to his knees, his hands gripping her hips. His eyes burned with brilliant green fire as he looked up at her from beneath hooded lids. “Tell me you’re wet for me, Bella.”

  Her throat was so tight with desire, she had to swallow before she could respond. “I am.”

  “Part your legs. I want to pleasure your honey-sweet quim with my mouth.”

  Oh, dear Lord. He hadn’t been jesting before. “Are you sure?” she whispered as she moved one foot to the side.

  “Of course I’m sure.” He reached beneath the hem of her gown, the cotton fabric bunching as his hot hands slid slowly upward over her silk stockings to the tops of her naked thighs. “Hold your skirts. I can’t wait to taste you.”

  Inhaling a trembling breath, Arabella complied with his request. Now that her most intimate parts were exposed to her husband’s gaze, she felt vulnerable yet so excited she could barely breathe. Her pulse leapt wildly as Gabriel kissed and then touched his tongue to the bare flesh just above the ribbon garter at her knee. When he pushed his nose against her mound and inhaled her scent, his warm breath stirring her curls, she gasped. One of his long fingers traced a path along the damp seam of her sex.

  “How lovely and wet you are,” he crooned huskily as he gently parted her plump, swollen folds even further. “I knew you would be, sweetheart.” In the next instant, his tongue darted out and the tip flickered against the tight, throbbing bud of her clitoris. She jolted and whimpered as every nerve ending was set alight. She’d never experienced such exquisite sensation.

  She felt Gabriel’s mouth curve in a smile against the tender skin of her thigh. “Hook your leg over my shoulder.”

  Now that she knew what he could do with his wicked tongue, Arabella did as he asked without hesitation. She should be ashamed to be doing such a wanton, even depraved thing, but at this very moment, she wasn’t.

  Her sex spread wide, Gabriel slid two fingers into her slick entrance, thrusting gently in a maddening rhythm. Arabella moaned and leaned back against the smooth oak panels at her back; her thighs trembled and her inner muscles gripped him, drawing him deeper. There was no discomfort, only burgeoning pleasure. His mouth pressed against her clitoris and he teased the straining, oh-so-sensitive hooded peak with little nibbles and licks and sucks. His fingers plunged harder and faster, and Arabella rippled about him. She couldn’t control the noises escaping her—a mixture of tiny whimpers and rapid, shallow pants. The tension inside her was building, winding tighter and tighter until she almost couldn’t bear it.

  When Gabriel began to suckle in earnest, his eager lips drawing hard on her pulsing, quivering flesh, she couldn’t suppress a joyous cry as incandescent rapture suddenly flared to life inside her. Yes. Oh yes, oh yes, oh yes.

  Arching against his hot, wicked mouth, his lips and tongue continued to torment her until she was shuddering violently. “Gabriel, stop. Have mercy,” Arabella gasped, her fingers spearing into his silky black curls as she tried to push him away.

  He groaned low in his throat. “I can’t get enough of you, Bella.”

  “I’ll fall.” She clutched at his head. Indeed, her legs were so weak, she could barely stand.

  “No, you won’t.” He bathed her sex with one last languorous lick before he relented and raised his head. “I’ve got you.”

  He surged to his feet and crowded her against the oak door, pinning her body there with his weight. Then his mouth crashed over hers and he kissed her with such ruthless, breath-robbing ardor, Arabella’s head began to spin. There was a trace of muskiness on his lips and she realized it was her own essence she tasted, but rather than being repulsed, she was aroused. Even though her womb still pulsed with the aftermath of her climax, desire sparked again.

  All at once, Gabriel dragged his mouth away. “Forgive me, I have to be inside you.” His hoarse whisper gusted across her ear, making her shiver. “I can’t wait a moment longer.” He ripped off his coat, then tore open the fall of his breeches, freeing his hot, hard erection. “Raise your leg and wrap it round my hip, darling girl.”

  As she did so, he slid an arm beneath her bottom, lifting her so she was on tiptoe. The broad head of his manhood nudged at her entrance.

  “How . . . how will this work?” Balancing on one leg was difficult, so Arabella clutched at Gabriel’s wide shoulders. “You’re so tall. I don’t think I can do this.”

  “Trust me, we’ll manage.” Gabriel hoisted her higher as though she barely weighed a thing. “Wrap your arms and legs about me, Bella,” he rasped, “and hold on tight.”

  * * *

  * * *

  With both hands clasping her delectable arse, Gabriel lifted Arabella off the ground. Need seared though him like a lightning bolt, stealing his breath and his sanity. He had to have this beautiful, passionate, remarkable woman right now or he’d die. Pressing forward, he anchored her against the door and pushed into her glorious heat and wetness with one sure thrust.

  Oh, God. Gabriel groaned and buried his face in Arabella’s deliciously scented neck. Lust beat hot and hard through his veins, making his cock throb in a way it never had before. She felt so fucking good, he had to hold perfectly still to stave off the overwhelming urge to come immediately. How had he managed to go without this woman for so long?

  As he fought to regain control, he was aware that Arabella’s breathing was short and shallow. She gripped his shoulders so tightly, he suspected she’d drawn blood even through the cambric of his shirt.

  Guilt crashed through him. Christ, this was only Arabella’s second time, and he was taking her roughly like a doxy on the street. “Sweetheart,” he gritted out. “Are you all right?”

  She feathered a kiss across his temple. “Aye, I’m absolutely fine.” Her soft, warm breath caressed his ear. “It burned a little at first but now it just feels wonderful. Marvelous in fact.”

  As if to prove her point, her internal muscles quivered and clenched around him so tightly, Gabriel wondered if she might be about to come too. “I’m g
oing to move now,” he murmured. “I’m afraid I won’t last long.”

  “Do what you will,” she whispered and kissed him again. “I’ve had my pleasure. Take yours.”

  Gabriel didn’t need any further encouragement. Gripping Arabella’s hips, he began to rock his pelvis, pumping in and out of her tight, moist heat. His frenzied, desperate plunging soon had him gasping and swearing and shaking. He could feel his orgasm gathering, charging toward him like an inexorable force, tightening his muscles, making his balls contract. Arabella was almost there too. Her silken, feminine core was rhythmically squeezing him, milking him, like a tightly fisted hand.

  He bit down on her neck, then groaned, “Tell me you’re mine, Bella.” He had no idea why he wanted to hear her utter such a thing, but he did. “Tell me,” he panted. “Say it.”

  “I’m yours,” she cried on a ragged gasp. And then she came.

  Screaming his name, Arabella spasmed around his swelling, throbbing cock, and Gabriel couldn’t hold back. Passion rose in a hot, hungry wave and he gave in to its pull. Shuddering, moaning, he crushed Arabella’s trembling body against the door as his seed erupted inside her in long, hard, violent spurts. Pleasure flooded through him in great pulsating waves. He’d never experienced a climax so sublime. So perfect.

  It was earth-shattering. Cataclysmic.

  Soul changing.

  “Bella.” Gabriel raised his head and sought her mouth. He’d just had her, yet he still craved her taste. Her warmth. “Sweet Jesus, that was astounding.”

  “Yes . . .” She kissed him back, her tongue dancing with his. “I’m beginning to understand why you enjoy bed sport so much.”

  “This wasn’t sport. This was—” Oh, hell. Gabriel’s heart all but stopped. “Arabella . . .” He caught her drowsy gaze. “I didn’t withdraw. I came inside you.”

  “Oh . . .” Arabella’s forehead dipped into a frown. One of her hands came up to cup his jaw, but then her kiss-swollen lips twitched with a small smile. “You’re not about to tell me you have the pox or the clap after all, are you?”