Scandalous

by Jenna Petersen

Katherine set her precious roll of fabric onto a chair, folded her arms, and glared at Dominic. “That was very rude. Matthews and I were having an important discussion.”

  Dominic motioned to the fabric with a dubious look.

  “Yes, fabric is important! I’ll have you know I intend this room to be the main sitting area in the house.” She turned to motion to the streaked window. “It has the best light and will be warm and comfortable in the afternoons.”

  Dominic arched an eyebrow. His irritation was fading. How could he be annoyed when his wife had a smudge of dirt across the creamy perfection of her cheek? He stepped forward to wipe it away with his thumb.

  “Why did you leave our bed this morning?” he asked.

  She jumped at the contact of his fingers on her skin, but didn’t pull away. “What do you mean? I woke up and went to my chambers to dress.”

  His annoyance returned at her reminder of the work she had been doing on the lady’s chambers adjacent to the master suite. He didn’t like the idea of her wanting another bedroom.

  “Ah, yes, your chambers. How soon will your work be done there?”

  Shrugging one shoulder, she paced away from him. “Soon. A few days I would think. And then you’ll no longer be troubled by my constant presence.”

  “Where, in my bed?” he asked with a wicked grin at her blush. “Ah, Kat, you may trouble me in bed any time you like. Even now.”

  Her skin colored even darker, but she struggled to maintain a posture of outrage. “Were you looking for me for any particular reason, sir, or just to practice your considerable talents as a rake?”

  He hesitated. What could he tell her? That he’d spent a good part of an hour searching the house because he missed her? Even if that suddenly felt so true, it wasn’t something he intended to admit. It broke all the boundaries they established the evening they arrived at Lansing Square.

  Besides, those feelings weren’t real. His desire drove him to her side, not something deeper. The fact that he was beginning to like her was completely separate from the fact that he longed to touch her.

  “You’ve been avoiding me,” he said instead.

  She blanched at his directness. Pacing away, she motioned wildly around the room. “I—I…Perhaps you would like to see my plans for the estate?”

  He sighed. The house again. Every time she didn’t want to have a meaningful exchange with him, she brought up Lansing Square and her plans. He had heard enough about paint and carpeting to last him until his dying day.

  “No.” His tone was much harsher than he planned it to be. Enough that she stopped short with a glimmer of hurt in her eyes.

  “No?” she repeated.

  “You heard me. I don’t care what you want to do with the house. In fact, I don’t want you to do anything with the estate. I don’t want the servants disposing of one thing,” he continued, tamping down his guilt over her upset and confused expression.

  “I don’t understand,” she said softly. “The furniture is innumerable seasons out of date and the walls need new paper and paint. I would love to purchase a new rug for the west library. How am I to make this estate one you’ll be proud to hold if you won’t allow me to make even the simplest of changes?”

  He frowned. “I’m telling you I don’t care about the estate. I’ve no plans to keep it. I intend to complete my business here and then we will return to London. My town house there is in no need of repair or renovation. You’ll find it more than comfortable. In town, you can spend your days shopping—”

  Her mouth fell open. “You don’t intend to keep up Lansing Square?”

  “I thought I said that,” he snapped, sharp again in the face of his discomfort. He never expected her to become attached to the worn-down place so quickly. Actually, he never imagined she would be interested in it at all.

  She shook her head in protest. “But this is a lovely estate, Dominic. With a bit of care and money—”

  “Neither of which I want to venture.”

  She drew in a shuddering breath. “Then why are we here? You claim indifference, but you could have easily taken me straight to London or another of your properties. What kind of business could you have when you search the attic all day and keep yourself—” She stumbled over her words. “Occupied with me all night?”

  Dominic clenched a fist. There was no way to explain his motives. Not without telling her the truth, which he wasn’t prepared to do.

  “My business is none of your affair,” he said softly.

  She barked out a burst of laughter. “I’m your wife.”

  “Which does not entitle you to be privy to everything I do.”

  She frowned. “Very well. Perhaps you will tell me what will happen to the servants if you don’t utilize this estate? Are they to continue on such a small pittance that they can’t even have half the rooms open? That they would be embarrassed to present the estate to visitors?”

  He ran a hand through his hair. How had the conversation gotten so far out of control? He had plans when he found her. Topics to broach. This wasn’t one of them.

  “I have no idea. I’ll be sure they have references when they depart, of course—”

  “You’re letting them go?” Her face twisted in horror.

  “When we are finished here, yes, I intended to close the estate completely and send the servants away.”

  “No! Why? Why not sell it to someone who will understand its full value? Or use it yourself?” She gripped his arm to accentuate her plea, and he winced with guilt at the contact.

  There was no way to explain how hateful he found this place. Here he’d been conceived from some kind of affair. Here his father had turned away from him. Shutting up the estate like it was unimportant always seemed like poetic justice to Dominic. It turned Lansing Square from an ugly part of his history into a piece of land he could do with as he wished. A memory he could discard as easily as he had been discarded. He certainly had no wish to live amongst the reminders of the past.

  “This is none of your affair!” he growled.

  She held out her hands in mute entreaty. “Sell it to me.”

  Dominic froze. Her words were a sharp reminder of how he had given Katherine’s money to Cole. She had nothing to buy the estate with. Guilt filled his every fiber. Along with a strange urge to tell her everything. About his father, why the estate was so important, and how he had come to inherit it. Even how he made a devil’s bargain with Cole to take her in trade.

  Instead, he turned away. There was no purpose in sharing those things with his wife. To do so only confused their marriage and opened him to emotions he had controlled for a long time.

  “This subject is closed, Katherine. We won’t discuss it further.”

  “But—”

  He spun on his heel. “There is nothing more to say.”

  She stared at him with hurt and anger flashing in equal measure in her eyes. Her lip quivered as she nodded briskly. “You may dismiss me like you would a child, but you cannot stop me from continuing on as I have been. I won’t ask you for funds, but I will continue to give this estate the attention it deserves.”

  With that, she stalked from the room and slammed the door behind her. Dominic stared at the place she stood a moment before, his heart giving the oddest ache.

  “Damn,” he muttered to himself as he took a long glance around the room she wanted to make their main parlor.

  She was right, the window was lovely, affording visitors a full glimpse of the large lawn and cluster of trees in the distance. In another life, in another house, he would have let her do as she wished. He might have even helped her, if only to watch the unexpected pleasure she took in making a home. Their home.

  But not here.

  Dominic slammed the trunk shut and sat down on its lid. With a curse, he wiped his brow with a handkerchief, then rubbed his eyes. He wasn’t to the halfway mark of his search yet, and he had found nothing. No clues to who his real father was, or where the man was now.

  Of co
urse, it was silly to expect an instant answer, but his patience was wearing thin. He had pursued these answers for so many years, he could hardly remember a time when they didn’t plague him.

  After Cole told him of his bastard state that ugly night, he had turned to his mother first. As a child, he felt the distance between them, the coldness she displayed more toward him than Julia or Cole. Yet, he still prayed she would give him the answers he sought.

  Instead, she responded to his query with shock, anger and denials so shaky they only confirmed his brother’s story rather than put it to rest. Repeated questioning only gave him the same results.

  Except for one night.

  He’d found his mother crumpled by the fire on the floor of her private library, sobbing uncontrollably. She was normally so cold and collected, the perfect image of a lady, but that night she had been drinking. He could still recall the sharp scent of sherry on Larissa’s breath when he ran to her, thinking she had been injured.

  For once, she hadn’t shaken his help off. In fact, she clung to him, weeping as he helped her to her feet, begging him not to tell Harrison Mallory what he had seen.

  There had been a brief moment when he thought of doing just the opposite. Let his mother feel the wrath she had never protected him from. But he couldn’t do it. Instead, he had quietly led her up the back stair to her room.

  Only then had she whispered the one thing she ever admitted about his real father.

  “I loved him, Dominic. If I hadn’t been forced to surrender him by Harrison, everything would be different.”

  She had truly looked at him then and touched his face with the only warmth he remembered feeling from her. And then promptly slipped into drunken unconsciousness before Dominic could take advantage of her unusually candid mood.

  But the next morning, she claimed no memory of the encounter. The rift between them grew ever wider until he stopped asking questions she refused to answer.

  With a sigh, he shook off the memories. Reliving the disappointments of the past served no purpose. Not when there was still so much to be done here. So much to search.

  He peered around him. Trunks and boxes were scattered with no rhyme or reason across the attic floor. The ones he’d opened, he moved over beside the pianoforte by the round window in the corner. Odd to see such an instrument all the way up here, but Matthews said the piece was damaged. Oddly, it had not been destroyed.

  That was the problem. Nothing in this house seemed to have been thrown away. He had hundreds of years of history to examine in order to find one tiny clue. And he hadn’t even started on the other rooms in the estate and hiding places on the grounds.

  “Blast!” He rose to his feet and gave the crate a kick. Sometimes the search seemed hopeless.

  Exhaustion suddenly overwhelmed him. He wasn’t getting enough rest at night, though he had no complaints about Katherine in that respect. Then there was their disagreement earlier that afternoon. Her hurt face danced before his eyes every time he paused in his work.

  He pushed away the guilt. It was only fatigue and hunger that made him dwell on emotions he normally kept at bay. After a bite to eat he was sure he would be able to forget Katherine’s questions and face yet another crate.

  With a slightly lighter step, he hurried down the many flights of stairs toward the parlor below. Already, he could taste Mrs. Matthews’ tea and scones. The woman wasn’t just his butler’s wife, but a magnificent cook and housekeeper.

  Just as he was about to turn to the last flight of stairs into the foyer, he heard Katherine’s voice. Katherine’s laugh, to be more specific. It was a sound he hadn’t heard more than two or three times since he met her, and none of them had anything to do with him. Yet he found the sound soothing after his tumultuous days of hide and seek with the past.

  “Oh, Matthews, you needn’t worry about that!” she said and he could hear the smile on her face. If he closed his eyes, he could picture it. “No matter what Mr. Mallory said, I assure you, I’ll make sure everything works out. Whether or not he wants it, I’m going to change his mind about this place. I’m going to make him proud.”

  “I hope so, madam. I shall make those arrangements right away.”

  Despite the fact that Katherine was completely ignoring his earlier order, Dominic was warmed by her statement. She wanted him to be proud. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone considered what he wanted. Yet this woman who shared his last name, but who he knew very little else about, did.

  “I’ll be outside taking a stroll through the gardens if you require anything else, or if Mr. Mallory inquires about me.”

  Dominic drew back. It was freezing outside and the snow had only let up an hour before, yet she wanted to take a walk? She did love winter—that was one thing he had learned about her since they met. But it was a single glimpse, and nowhere near enough to satisfy this unforeseen curiosity he felt for her.

  He doubled his step, but when he reached the foyer, she was already gone. He climbed back up the stairs two by two and hurried down the hall to the parlor where they argued earlier. It had the best view of the estate grounds. Sure enough, he saw Kat in the distance, wearing a red coat with a fur-lined collar, trudging through the snow at a leisurely pace.

  Immediately, he made plans to buy her at least two other outfits in that startling shade. It brought out the soft pink in her skin and the dark midnight of her hair. Perhaps a nightgown in red. Red satin that he could peel off her shoulders…

  His body clenched with need as hot blood moved to the most uncomfortable places. She inspired such strong reactions in him. Such outrageous desires. Here it was, not even three, and he was already counting the moments before he would have her in his bed.

  And why couldn’t that moment be right now? They were newlyweds after all. A late afternoon tryst might be just the thing to calm his nerves. If he was lucky, he might even get her to open up a bit.

  He’d all but made up his mind when his wife crouched down and made a snowball. With a small grin, she tossed it into a flock of birds, scattering them across the sky in a squawking mass.

  The majority of the desire that pumped through him faded, replaced by a much more tender, warm feeling. Yes, he still wanted Katherine. But more importantly, he wanted to be near her. He wanted to laugh with her. He wanted to join her in the snow in the hopes that he might feel some of the joy reflected on her face.

  “Matthews!” he called as he hurried away from the window. “Bring me my coat and gloves.”

  Katherine’s aim with a snowball was already wicked, but it never hurt to keep it up. Not that the skill had any practical use, but she was still upset from her earlier encounter with Dominic and throwing something helped.

  The man was so stubborn. Bullheaded. Even so, she felt a nagging need to comfort him. Sadness was buried in his stormy eyes, no matter how both of them pretended it wasn’t. It only seemed to deepen the longer they stayed at Lansing Square. Whether or not he admitted it, the house he wanted so desperately to get rid of meant something to him. And whatever “business” he had there had something to do with his strange searching.

  What could he be looking for?

  She found herself bundling a second ball of packed snow into her fist. She took aim at a tree branch a fair distance away and let loose, pretending it was her husband’s head as a target. It hit squarely and she couldn’t help but smile.

  “You’ve a good arm. Perhaps you’d like to practice on a better enemy.”

  Katherine spun around with a start to find Dominic crossing the lawn toward her with arms out-stretched as if offering his broad, muscular chest as a mark. She blushed. She’d been caught. Thank goodness he couldn’t read her thoughts.

  “You want me to throw a snowball at you?” she asked with a giggle she couldn’t suppress.

  He gave her that half-grin that melted her every time. “The birds are easy marks, my lady. And anyone could have hit that tree branch. I am simply offering you a challenge.”

  Yes,
he certainly did that. A challenge to her resolve.

  He stooped and scooped up a handful of wet snow. With flourish, he rubbed a target on the breast of his dark woolen greatcoat, then stood back. “There, now I’ve made it even easier for you.”

  She couldn’t hold back another burst of laughter. “Just remember you asked for this.”

  She wound up and was pleased when she hit him squarely in the middle of the chest, despite his last-minute sidestep.

  He smiled. “Decent.”

  “Decent? I hit you full on!” she said in mock outrage before she balled up another snowball and threw again.

  But he was just as quick and she found herself dodging as much as throwing. His aim was as good as hers and more of his missiles hit her than missed. As she straightened up for one last throw, she was pleased to see his coat was dotted with white marks. At the exact moment she let loose, he stood up and the snowball connected squarely with his face.

  She squealed in delight as he sputtered and wiped snow away from his eyes. Eyes that came up to meet hers with playfully murderous intent.

  “Oh, you liked that, did you?” he asked as he dug into his pocket for a hopelessly damp handkerchief.

  “I-I’m s-so sorry,” she managed between giggles.

  “Hmmm. It doesn’t sound like it.” He grinned. “But you will be.”

  With that, he dove toward her. She let out a small scream as she scurried away. Laughing, she ran across the snow with him hard on her heels. Just when she thought she would escape, he jumped. They both went down on the soft snow in a heap of red coat and laughter.

  “Now you’re going to get it,” Dominic chuckled as he shifted his weight to pin her laughing, struggling form. “Now you’re mine.”

  Something in his voice shifted and Katherine stopped fidgeting to look up into stormy gray eyes. Eyes that pulled her in bit by bit until laughter was forgotten, snowball fights were forgotten, everything was forgotten except how much she wanted him.

  How much these moments together made her like him, despite how treacherous that attraction was.

  His face swayed ever closer and her vision blurred just as his mouth came down on hers. The kiss was gentle. Tasting and teasing, with the playfulness their snowball fight possessed. But behind all that was a passion that could haul her over an edge. Make her do things she shouldn’t do…shouldn’t want to do.