Masked Intentions [Unmasking Prometheus] (BookStrand Publishing Romance)

by Diana Bold

  Anne nodded, her blush deepening. “I just have so many things bottled up inside me, and there is no one I can speak to about them, not without being judged.”

  “I would never judge you, Anne.” Vanessa met the other woman’s guileless blue gaze with utter earnestness. “You can tell me anything.”

  Anne bit her lip. “Can I ask you something very personal?” she whispered, dropping her voice even lower, though it was unlikely the men could overhear them over the ruckus the children were making.

  “Of course,” Vanessa whispered back.

  “Have you and Adrian…been intimate yet?”

  “Of course.” Vanessa smiled and dropped her gaze. She’d had a feeling Anne was building to this. She didn’t know whether to be pleased that she trusted her enough to ask this sort of question, or insulted that the other woman probably thought her little better than a whore.

  “Do you like it?” Anne asked, her voice squeaking a bit with embarrassment. “I only ask because…I like it myself very much. I know I shouldn’t…but Morgan is so sweet when he comes to me.”

  “There’s no reason you shouldn’t like it,” Vanessa assured her, wondering how she’d fallen into the role of the big sister when Anne was older than she was and had been married for years. “He’s your husband, and you love him.”

  Anne placed her hand on her heavily pregnant belly. “Ever since we found out about the baby, he’s stopped coming to me at night. I know it’s probably for the best, for the child, but I miss lying in his arms. It’s been months, and I’ve been so lonely. He never stopped coming to me when I was pregnant with the other two.”

  “Have you tried telling him this?” Vanessa asked softly.

  Anne shook her head. “I wouldn’t have any idea how to begin such a conversation. He’s grown so distant. I think something’s bothering him, but he won’t talk to me about it. Honestly, he barely talks to me at all. Only about the children, and household concerns. Sometimes, I think he’s grown tired of me.”

  “Oh, Anne.” Vanessa gave the other woman a tremulous smile. “I’m certain that’s not true. Look at the man! I’ve never seen a man so happily domestic.”

  Both women once again turned their gazes on the two handsome men romping with the three children. Vanessa knew very little about marriage, but she knew enough to realize that Anne and Morgan had an uncommonly good one.

  “He cares for me, respects me as the mother of his children, but I want…more. I want him to look at me the way that Adrian looks at you, Vanessa. As though he would absolutely die if he lost you.” Anne’s voice broke a bit, and Vanessa squeezed her hand again.

  “Is that the way he looks at me?” Vanessa asked hesitantly, her heart thudding almost painfully in her chest as she realized the truth of it.

  “You two share such passion, and even when we were newly wed, Morgan never loved me passionately.” Anne’s eyes welled with tears. “He used to come to me quite frequently, but I never knew what I was supposed to do, so I just lay there like my mother told me, let him have his way with me. I think that he thought I didn’t like it, because he started apologizing for it, and then came less and less.”

  Vanessa bit her lip, her heart breaking for Anne. “I suppose this is the first time that I’ve actually been glad that I didn’t grow up with a mother or anyone to tell me what was and wasn’t proper. When I met Adrian, I didn’t have any preconceived notions of what the physical part of our relationship should be like. I just knew what felt right, and because I love him, I feel like anything we do together is all right.” She smiled a little, remembering making love to him last night, knowing her face was probably bright red. “If you are missing Morgan in your bed, perhaps you should just go to him tonight and tell him how you feel.”

  Anne laughed nervously. “I couldn’t do that. He would think me so forward!”

  “You’re his wife,” Vanessa chided softly. “Perhaps he has been thinking you didn’t want him to come to you? You’ll never know until you talk about it.”

  Anne nodded thoughtfully. “I suppose you’re right. It’s just really hard for me to talk to him about things like this.”

  Vanessa impulsively gave her sister-in-law a hug. “I have a suggestion,” she murmured, her lips turning upward in a mischievous smile. “You can act! Pretend that you are me, and be as brazen as you imagine that I am. I don’t think Morgan would mind at all. I imagine he is missing you as much as you miss him. He probably just thinks that staying away is the gentlemanly thing to do.”

  Anne’s blue eyes widened, and she glanced nervously at Morgan. “Perhaps you’re right. I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to try.”

  * * * *

  “Look at the two of them,” Morgan mused, tapping Adrian’s arm and nodding his head toward their wives, who had their heads together in what appeared to be a very serious conversation. “What do you suppose they are talking about?”

  Adrian shifted Gabriel from his back to the floor, tickling him and then nudging him toward the other children as he turned his attention to his brother. He smiled a bit when he saw Anne and Vanesa. They did seem to be getting along famously. “I’m not certain, but I’m very glad Anne has made such an effort to include us. Vanessa needs a confidante.”

  Morgan raised a brow, a troubled look in his eyes. “Anne has needed someone as well. She seems melancholy as of late.”

  “I’ve never known Anne to be sad, and lately you’ve seemed troubled as well. Is there something wrong?” Adrian asked awkwardly. Morgan had expressed some discontent the last time he’d visited, but Adrian had thought it would resolve itself. Now he wished he’d made himself more available to his brother. He’d been so mired in his own troubles that he hadn’t given it another thought.

  Morgan sighed and tore his gaze away from the women. “Everything is fine,” he said. “There’s nothing wrong. There’s just nothing all that right either.” He shook his head. “I’m certain things will be better when the baby comes.”

  “I’m sure you’re right,” Adrian said hastily, uncomfortable with the entire conversation. “Are you still painting?”

  Morgan nodded. “Every night. I’m having trouble sleeping. I spend most nights in my studio, painting until dawn.”

  “Still dark themes?” Adrian asked, nodding toward Hannah. “Or have you started on a portrait of your little angel yet?”

  Morgan gazed at his children, but didn’t seem to actually be seeing them. “I’ve just been painting fire…the house burning the night Father died.”

  Adrian swallowed, all the old fears and regrets immediately surfacing at his brother’s words. “What’s brought this up?” he asked, trying to force the emotions down. “It was so long ago.”

  Morgan shook his head. “I have no idea. I’ve just been having a premonition that something horrible is about to happen.”

  “I’ve felt it, too,” Adrian admitted. “I think it’s because Roger has resurfaced in our lives. Sometimes I think there must be a confrontation between us, and I doubt both of us will walk away from it.”

  “I wish you could just let it go,” Morgan said quietly. “I worry that something horrible will happen if you keep taunting him as Prometheus. From everything you’ve said, I am certain he knows that it’s you. I wish you would stop for a while, give up the mask, and try to just enjoy your new wife.”

  Adrian sighed and shoved a hand through his hair. “I know you’re right. It’s hard though. I just can’t let the past go. I can’t let him get away with it, and I can’t let him keep hurting people.”

  Morgan shrugged and pushed to his feet, forcing a smile. “You’re the one I don’t want to see hurt. Shall we all go in to dinner?”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  By the time Vanessa’s little family tumbled into the coach later that night, they were all ready for bed. Gabriel had played himself into exhaustion, and the vehicle had barely jolted into motion before he laid his head in Vanessa’s lap and fell fast asleep. She stroked his dark hair, tears sting
ing her eyes as sheer happiness overwhelmed her.

  Adrian leaned toward her, his fingertips brushing her cheek as he must have caught a glimpse of her tears in the streetlights. “What’s wrong, sweetheart? I thought you enjoyed the evening.”

  “Oh, I did,” she whispered, smiling up at him. “It was wonderful.”

  “Then why are you crying?” His voice sounded so puzzled, she burst out laughing.

  “I’m so happy,” she told him. “I’ve never had a night like this one, where I actually felt as though I was part of a family. All my life, I’ve wanted this.”

  “I’m glad you had a good time.” He leaned back in his seat, staring at her in the flickering light cast by street lights. She sensed he was still confused and sought a way to explain it to him better.

  “I know you think that I married you for money. I know I deserve that, but it was never money I wanted. It was security. And when I was with you, even when you were Prometheus, you made me feel safe. You made me feel part of something. And tonight, when you allowed me into your life…into your family…even in my wildest dreams it wasn’t this wonderful.”

  He shook his head, the ghost of a smile tilting his lips. “It was just a family dinner.”

  “For you!” she said, knowing he still didn’t get it. “For Gabriel and me, who have never been part of a real family, it was so much more.”

  “I suppose…I’ve taken this for granted, haven’t I? I’ve always thought myself alone, but I’ve never been truly alone, not in the way you’ve been.” He ran a hand through his hair in agitation. “My brothers have always been there, my little sister, my niece and nephew.”

  She nodded, staring down at their beautiful boy. “I want to give that to Gabriel, that sense of family, of not being alone in the world. And now, thanks to you, I can.”

  He remained pensive and quiet for the rest of the ride home, and she didn’t push him, knowing she’d given him a lot to think about. She hoped he’d started to realize that she really did care for him, and that everything he’d thought about her reasons for blackmailing him had been wrong.

  At last they reached the house, and she was thrilled when Adrian took Gabriel in his arms and carried him up the stairs to his bedroom instead of leaving it to the coachman as most men of his class would have. She trailed behind him, butterflies in her stomach.

  Tenderly laying Gabriel upon his bed, Adrian surprised her further by taking off the child’s socks and shoes and then tenderly tucking him in, placing a kiss upon his forehead.

  She kissed the boy as well, and then they stole out into the dark hall. She held her breath, desperate to ask him to her room, but determined to give him space if he needed it.

  Wordlessly, he reached out and took her hand, pulling her to his own bedroom door. She looked up at him, a question in her eyes. He answered it by pulling her inside, shutting the door behind him, and pressing her against the wall, kissing her wildly.

  She melted beneath him, returning his passion in equal measure, thrilled to be in his arms once again.

  After a long while, he finally lifted his head, staring down at her. “I’ve wanted to do that all day,” he whispered. “My God, Vanessa, you’ve bewitched me.”

  She gave him a sultry smile, giddy with happiness. “You’ve put a spell on me as well.”

  He tugged her toward the big bed, unfastening her gown as they went. “Too many clothes,” he growled. “Why do they make women wear so many damned clothes?”

  She shook her head, laughing, and helped him, until she stood at the foot of the bed in nothing but her chemise. “Your turn,” she breathed, lifting her hand to his fancy cravat and making short work of it.

  He shed his clothes even faster than they’d divested her of hers, and it warmed her heart that tonight he seemed far less concerned about his scars. One day, she promised herself, he would be absolutely comfortable baring himself to her, heart and soul. She somehow had to make herself worthy of that sort of trust.

  “Hold on one moment,” she said, suddenly remembering the almond oil the footman had brought back for her earlier in the day.

  He gave a soft murmur of dissent and tried to grab her, but she laughed and danced away from him. “When I return, I want you laying on that bed on your stomach,” she ordered, and then sprinted to her room and grabbed the salve.

  When she returned, he was spread out upon the bed as she’d asked, a feast for her hungry eyes. She climbed up beside him, the bed dipping beneath her as she crawled toward him. His rear end was truly a sight to behold, powerfully muscled and sweetly round, his waist trim and his back and shoulders sculpted by a master’s hand.

  Her gaze landed at last upon the scars that marred his shoulder. “This may be cold for a second,” she warned, dipping her fingertips in the tin of salve and then rubbing it across the puckered skin.

  “What are you doing?” he hissed, tensing beneath her hands, his old self-consciousness returning.

  She calmed him with a sweet kiss at the nape of his neck. “This will make the skin suppler, and eventually it might even fade the scars a bit. But more than that, I just want to touch you, give you comfort.”

  “It feels good,” he admitted grudgingly, obviously not comfortable with her touching the parts of him he thought ruined so intimately, but enjoying the way it felt.

  Smiling at her success, she continued to work the oil into his skin, not just the burned areas but his entire back, and even his buttocks. He gradually relaxed, and soon soft pleased sounds were escaping him. She loved the way he became pliant beneath her hands, the heat of his skin and the beauty of his form.

  “Turn over,” she murmured softly, arousal pulsing through her. “I want to touch the front of you.”

  “Mmmm,” he sighed, twisting sinuously and rather magnificently displaying the fact that he, too, was highly aroused.

  She applied more oil to her trembling hands, placing them upon his chest. He closed his eyes and let her continue her ministrations, but a renewed tension had filled him. His powerful body coiled tightly beneath her, and she knew he wanted her to touch him even more intimately.

  Teasing him a bit, she took her time, rubbing the oil everywhere but where he needed it most. Finally, when she sensed he could not take it anymore, she closed her hand around his silky hardness, stroking him with her warm, well-oiled palm.

  He moaned, a deep, sexy rumble that took her breath away. She couldn’t believe her own daring, but nothing had ever thrilled her more. She loved to give him pleasure.

  After several minutes of her hands upon him, he suddenly surged up, wrapping his arms around her and flipping her to her back upon the soft mattress. He devoured her mouth with his own as he ripped the flimsy chemise she wore and then closed his hands around her breasts.

  Breaking the kiss, he trailed his mouth down her throat and chest, before lightly biting one of her nipples as his hand trailed down her stomach.

  “Christ,” he breathed against her skin. “Your touch drives me insane, beautiful. No one has ever done anything like that for me before.”

  “I love touching you,” she assured him, burying her hands in his dark hair as he parted her thighs and slid his fingers along her cleft, his thumb circling the tender bud. She convulsed with pleasure, and he thrust his thick length deep within her while she was still in the throes of her orgasm.

  He remained still within her, his big body trembling, until she’d come back to herself enough to meet his fierce gaze. She brushed her fingertips along his rigid jaw, and she knew her heart was in her eyes.

  “I love you,” she told him. “I love you so much, Adrian.”

  With a groan, he let go of his rigid control and began to thrust wildly within her, building the pressure inside her until she shattered once again, the pleasure so intense she could not even describe it.

  He gave a hoarse cry and followed her into bliss, then collapsed beside her, pulling her into his arms and sweeping the heavy quilt over both of them.

  “Stay
with me,” he whispered. “I want to hold you all night.”

  “Yes,” she said, snuggling against his chest and quickly drifting off to sleep.

  The next week fell into a rather wonderful routine. Adrian woke up beside his lovely wife every morning, after having made love to her the night before. They had breakfast with Gabriel, and then he went to his lab for the day. The evenings were spent reading, playing games, and watching Gabriel play.

  They were both so happy with the tentative truce they’d managed to form that neither of them had brought up the still very real rift between them.

  He’d planned to keep her at arm’s length, but how could he when she’d done everything in her power to prove herself to him? How could he keep punishing her for forcing what had ended up being the best thing that had ever happened to him? But there was more ugliness in his past than she knew, and he still feared opening himself completely. She thought she knew the worst there was to know about him, but she was so wrong.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  “How is your lovely bride?” Lucien asked perceptively as he led Adrian to the huge glass greenhouse that was his pride and joy.

  Adrian took a deep breath of the humid, perfumed air, and then met his brother’s concerned gaze evenly. “Better than I ever could have imagined.”

  He’d gone to Lucien’s house one afternoon a week after his wedding, ostensibly to ask for a cutting of one of the herbs in the conservatory, but in reality because he needed to talk to someone about all the things that were troubling him.

  Lucien smiled widely. “That is wonderful, Adrian. After how things came about, I’ve been so worried.”

  “It’s an adjustment,” Adrian admitted, strolling toward a row of orchids and inspecting them blindly. “I’ve been alone so long and I have no idea how to be a husband, or a father…”

  Lucien nodded. “I can’t imagine how hard it must be. I have just about resigned myself to being an eternal bachelor.”