Scandalous

by Jenna Petersen

  Silence surrounded them again, but it was no longer the awkward one that plagued them earlier. This time there was comfort to it. Then she glanced back over at him with a guilty look.

  “Do you mind if I ask you a question now?”

  With a shrug, he answered, “It only seems fair. Ask away.”

  “Where have you been all these years?” She caught a wayward strand of her black hair and began to curl it around her fingertip in a nervous circle. “Why did you leave your family?”

  He drew back in surprise. He had asked her favorite color and she responded with a question that was deeply personal, and dangerously close to the truth behind why he wed her. Those facts were something he wasn’t ready to reveal yet. Perhaps he would someday. It wouldn’t be fair to keep her in the dark indefinitely.

  Clearing his throat, he turned to look out at the snowy road passing by his window. “With my family, it’s complicated.” There was an understatement if ever he made one. “It always has been.”

  “Family is,” she said quietly, more to herself than to him. “But that doesn’t explain where you’ve been.”

  So avoidance wasn’t a tactic she would accept. He made a mental note as he glanced back her way. Perhaps he could reveal part of his story without telling it all.

  “When I was sixteen I had a break with my family. My father and I had a row, partly caused by something my brother told me a few years before.” The memory caused him to swallow back bitterness that filled his mouth.

  “What did he tell you?”

  He shook his head. “It isn’t important now. Perhaps I’ll tell you another time.”

  “Very well,” she said softly, and there was no pouting in her demeanor or promise of punishment to come in the future. Unlike most women, she seemed to understand his need to keep a part of himself private.

  He continued with a growing respect for his bride. “After I left, I returned to school and befriended several men who became benefactors to me. They tutored me in business, cards, and I’ll admit, a bit about being a proper rake.”

  She laughed quietly. “Well, if I ever meet them, I shall compliment them. The last lessons, at least, seem to have taken.”

  “You haven’t seen the rake in me yet, dear lady,” he teased. When her eyes widened with interest, heat spiked through his blood. He had to struggle to regain focus and continue. “And I’m sure you shall meet them. The man who was closest to me, Baron Adrian Malleville already planned to meet with me in a fortnight. I extended him an invitation to Lansing Square as soon as you agreed to marry me.”

  “I’ll do my best to make him welcome,” she promised. She hesitated and he thought the conversation was concluded, but she continued, “It was good you had friends, but it must have been difficult to be so young and cut off from your family.”

  He waved her concern off with one hand, though he knew in his heart how much truth she spoke. It had been a lonely existence until he taught himself not to feel the rejection. He had dragged himself up and now he no longer questioned his value or worth.

  Only his heritage.

  “It isn’t important.”

  A small shiver wracked her. “Yes, it is. I know from my own experience how frightening it is to be alone in the world.”

  “How?” he asked, eager for insights into her life now that he’d inexplicably shared such a large part of his own. Giving her so much information hadn’t been in his plans.

  Her face twitched with emotion he couldn’t place. “My parents were killed when I was just thirteen.”

  Pity moved him. “Oh, Katherine, I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

  Somehow he had assumed her guardians were a later addition to her life. Now he could clearly picture her as a frightened young girl. The image struck a long-hidden chord in him.

  Reaching out, he weaved his fingers through hers for a gentle squeeze. To his surprise, she didn’t pull away.

  “Why would you know?” she asked with just a small choke to her voice. “After all, favorite colors aside, you and I don’t know each other at all.”

  For a moment, he only looked at her. She returned the gaze evenly, as if in challenge, but the defiance hid a plethora of pain and betrayal. These past few days had been a trial for her. Now that they were over, he wanted to reassure her that the rest wouldn’t be so difficult. Even if he never gave her much of himself, he still wanted her to feel safe. Secure.

  Slowly, he moved across the coach to sit beside her. He brushed a lock of hair off her shoulder with light, tender fingers. “In time, that will change. We will come to know each other.”

  She drew in a harsh breath through her mouth as he raised his hand, but this time drew it across her cheek. Her eyes fluttered shut as if she were resigned to a fate she couldn’t control. Neither could he. He was going to kiss her. There was no choice, only that fact.

  Slowly, deftly he gathered her into his arms and eased his lips down on hers. She whimpered a response as her fingers slid through his hair and shots of fire raced through his body. The kiss deepened, the feelings intensifying each time he stroked his tongue over hers.

  With each little moan she breathed against his lips, a point of no return moved ever closer, a place where his thin band of control just might break. He didn’t want her first experience with lovemaking to be in a drafty carriage. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t touch just a little, enough to give her a preview of the pleasure to come, but not snap that wire of restraint.

  Now her hands slid down from his neck to his chest. He thought her plan was to push him away as she had so many times before, but instead she slipped them inside his coat to where his body heat was trapped. He could have sworn she purred with pleasure and that small noise nearly undid him.

  Slowly, he kneaded her thigh through her gown. Her breath caught when he made contact and she tensed a fraction. Still, she didn’t pull away and her kiss continued with just as much desire as before. Gently, he massaged until her legs fell open a fraction. He glided his hand up until he brushed the apex of her thighs where he was greeted with intense heat, even through the confining layers of her gown.

  She pulled back immediately with a gasp of surprise. Panting, she stared at him. Her eyes were moist with desire, but there was wariness there, too. But why wouldn’t there be? She had never been here before, the new experiences were bound to startle her.

  “I won’t hurt you,” he whispered as he placed another featherlight kiss on her lips while he stroked her with his hand.

  Though she didn’t pull away, she shook her head. “You can’t promise me that, Dominic.”

  His hand stilled and he didn’t go back in for a second kiss. He stared at her. Why would she say that? Because her reply seemed to be about more than just a simple kiss or touch. Did she truly believe he would physically harm her?

  Before he could ask that very good question, the carriage began to slow. It shuddered as the driver climbed down. Reluctantly, Dominic returned to his own seat across from her. Katherine straightened her wrinkled skirt, but refused to meet his eyes. Instead, she kept her gaze focused on the damp carriage floor.

  “This is the inn, Mr. Mallory,” the man said as he opened the door.

  Dominic kept his eyes on his wife for a moment before he nodded. “Thank you. I’ll help Mrs. Mallory down. You tend to the bags.”

  “Yes, sir. Very good.” The man turned away, but left the door open for Dominic to exit.

  “Are you ready?” he asked, but even as she murmured her answer in the affirmative, he wondered if he, himself, were ready. Because when they entered that inn, it would be as near strangers, but by morning they would know each other intimately.

  “There is only one bed,” Katherine muttered as the innkeeper’s wife bustled into their room ahead of them and motioned around her.

  “This is our best, Mr. Mallory,” the woman gushed, obviously pleased to have a wealthy man like Dominic as a guest. She seemed more than eager to impress him. Enough that she hardly even ac
knowledged Katherine’s presence beyond a polite greeting upon their arrival. Was Katherine the only woman not completely taken in by Dominic Mallory’s charms?

  She blushed at her private question. No, she wasn’t completely taken in by her husband. Only partly.

  But much more than she should be.

  The innkeeper’s wife continued. “When the carriage arrived, I brought up a tray of food and wine. Is there anything else you’ll need tonight?”

  Dominic shot his gaze in Katherine’s direction and heat flooded her cheeks. It was clear the look was meant to say, I need you.

  “No, this looks wonderful. Thank you.”

  “I’ll have bath water for you in the morning.” The slender woman gave the two of them a knowing smile that made Katherine all the more aware of what was expected that night, then backed from the room and shut the door behind her.

  “One bed,” Katherine repeated, more to herself than to Dominic.

  He swept up one of the glasses of port by the fireside table and took a long sip. “What did you expect, Kat? This is our honeymoon.”

  She shook her head as she began to yank off her gloves. Tossing them on the table, she looked around. The room was large, but it was still dominated by that bed. A big bed. A bed meant for two people to roll around in. And she had a sneaking suspicion it had seen little sleep over the years.

  She fiddled with the hem of her sleeve, but couldn’t pretend not to see the way Dominic stared at her from the short distance between them. A predatory look.

  Yes, she was in a great deal of trouble if she didn’t manage the situation, and quickly.

  “You must be hungry. Why don’t you eat?” she said, motioning to the small spread laid out for them. If she stuffed him with food and plenty of wine, perhaps he would pass out.

  “I’m not hungry,” he said softly as he took a small step in her direction. “Not for food, not yet. But if you are…”

  She shook her head. Yes, eating might put him off for a while, but her stomach was already aflutter with anxious butterflies. Adding food to the mix would only make her feel more unsettled.

  Eustacia’s advice about a wedding night returned to her. Just lie there and bear it. She didn’t think that would be possible with Dominic. His hands forced a response in the carriage right before they arrived at the inn, one she’d somehow known to give even without any experience. It was a far cry from what she once imagined this night would be like with Cole.

  Cole would have been businesslike. Not emotional. Gentle. And though she didn’t believe Dominic would hurt her, there was an animal quality about him that struck a nerve she’d long ago buried. Dominic would expect—no, demand—her response, just as he’d done in the carriage. There would be nothing polite or tidy about it.

  Her wayward thoughts drifted again to the books in her parents’ home. Only instead of thinking about the naughty drawings she’d seen on their pages, she pictured Dominic acting out those images with her. His hands on her bare backside. His mouth on her breast. And God help her, she pictured touching him, too. Gliding her hands over his bare skin and tasting him.

  Trembling at the powerful desire those images created, she spun away from his dark, heated stare. Desperate, she searched her mind for a diversion.

  “Shouldn’t you be outside, er, g-guarding the carriage?”

  Oh, she was a blithering idiot. Years of schooling and the best she could come up with was to ask the man to guard their carriage?

  His smile was fast and wide. “This is the best inn along our route, possibly one of the best in the country. The rooms are expensive enough that the place can afford a night guard.” Another step brought him ever closer. She could almost smell the musky heat of his skin. Her nostrils flared in anticipation of the masculine, good scent. “Besides, that’s what I hire grooms for. I have duties tonight, but keeping watch over our carriage is not one of them.”

  He stopped talking, but kept moving, and Katherine found herself backing up until she was nearly in the fireplace. His smile fell.

  “Are you afraid of me?”

  She shook her head, but a shiver belied her denial. “You must understand, I didn’t even know you just a few days ago. I wasn’t supposed to face”—she looked around her at the softly lit room—“this for a few days more. When I did, it was meant to be with…with—”

  “Cole.” He cut her off in a voice as cold and hard as ice.

  She shut her eyes at the anger that lay just under the surface of his every move and word. It was clear by the way he reacted every time she said Cole’s name that Dominic thought she preferred his brother to him. Although she hated to do so, using that belief might be her only chance at salvation.

  Slowly, she nodded. “Yes, with Cole. I need time to adjust to my new circumstances. Perhaps you could get another room—”

  “Ha! On my wedding night?” His laugh was brittle. “We’re trying to avoid a scandal, Katherine, not create a new one. No. We will share a bed, as we were meant to do, but I will make you this promise. I swear I won’t do anything you don’t consent to.” Again he advanced, and because she had nowhere else to go, she held her ground. “Is that agreeable?”

  No. No, it wasn’t. Sleeping in a bed beside this man was going to be difficult. She had somehow hoped he would take her offer and go away, but of course that had been folly. A man like Dominic Mallory wouldn’t be ordered about by anyone, least of all her.

  “Er, very well.” She turned to the changing screen by the fire. Her valise was close by and someone had already taken her nightclothes out and laid them in easy reach. “I’ll just put on my nightgown, then we can go to b-bed,” she stammered. “To sleep. We can go to sleep.”

  Dominic arched an eyebrow, and with a quiet curse, Katherine grabbed her night shift and scurried behind the screen, safe, if only for the moment, from her husband’s stare.

  But not from the ever-growing knowledge that no matter how she tried to avoid the inevitable, tonight she would become his in every way.

  And she secretly thrilled at that thought.

  Chapter 6

  E ven behind the so-called protection of the changing screen, Dominic could see every line of Katherine’s body in the firelight. He supposed he should feel guilty, but that was the furthest thing from his mind as he watched her shadow stoop to pick up her nightgown.

  By God, she was perfect. From the soft curve of her breasts as the shift slipped over them, to the long lines of her arms and legs, it seemed her body had been plucked from his most detailed, sinful fantasy.

  With a growl of frustration, he turned away. This wasn’t helping his raging desire any. He wanted to finish what they began in the carriage. Suddenly, he wanted to make Katherine his, to erase any claim Colden had on her—but she couldn’t, or wouldn’t, let his brother go. Her comments a few moments before proved her hesitation had to do with lingering feelings for Cole.

  That stung.

  The only way Dominic knew to combat her remaining desire for Cole was to make her want him more, which he had promised not to do, or at least not to force.

  With a blush, she came around to the front of the screen. Her nightgown was high-necked and plain. It allowed him no access to her body, except for the visions he created in his mind.

  “A modiste,” he muttered under his breath as she moved with uncertainty toward the bed. Yes, he was going to have a dressmaker come to Lansing Square as soon as he could convince one to travel. His wife needed new nightclothes. Ones that didn’t make her look like an old woman. He wanted access, at least visually, to her skin. He wanted to see the way her breasts curved. To watch her hips sway when she walked.

  “What was that?” Her voice trembled.

  “Nothing.”

  “I’ll ring for someone to take my hair down.” The tremor in her voice grew stronger and struck both a primal and protective chord in him.

  “No.” He held up his hand to keep her from crossing to the bell at the door. The idea of someone invading their
privacy was actually physically painful to him. “I’ll do it.”

  “Take my hair down?” Her eyes widened. “You?”

  Nodding, he motioned to the dressing table. She sat and he found himself staring down at the crown of black satin that was her elaborate hairstyle. Had he ever taken a woman’s hair down? He didn’t think so, but the scent of lavender that seemed to hang around her addled his mind and filled his senses until he couldn’t have moved if she paid him good money.

  Slowly, he eased his fingers into her hair and she let out a long sigh as he massaged her scalp.

  “Did I hurt you?” he asked, surprised he could breathe, let alone speak.

  “N-No.” In the mirror, her eyes darkened and dilated.

  If that was her reaction to his touch, he planned to take her hair down each and every night. With trembling fingers, he set about finding the pins. Finally, her hair cascaded down her back in a long, flowing cloak. It wafted out sweetness as a few strands brushed his legs and fell to her hips. He might have believed he’d died and was in heaven if he weren’t so aware of his body’s sinful reactions to touching her.

  “Brush,” he requested softly.

  She complied with shaking hands.

  Stroke by stroke, he glided the brush bristles through her hair—gently, so as not to hurt her, he smoothed the waves. How had he not known how erotic a woman’s hair could be? He prided himself on his experience, but for the first time in a long time, he questioned his prowess.

  It affected her, too. In the mirror he could see her shut her eyes, and apparently try to bite back soft moans each time his hands weaved through her hair. Triumph coursed through his every nerve and vein.

  “Thank you,” she murmured as she suddenly skittered out of the chair. She touched her hair briefly, then shook off whatever effect he had on her, and glanced toward the bed. “I—I’m tired.”

  It was a lie, and he knew it. It wasn’t sleepiness he saw glittering in her gaze. No. It was time for a seduction. If she pushed him away, so be it, but he had no choice but to try. Not when his body called so insistently.