Once Upon a Scandal

by Delilah Marvelle

  “Victoria—”

  “Let nothing come between us again. Not now. Not ever. Now ravage me. Consummate this marriage. Do it. Now.”

  The base of his throat pulsed and throbbed as he fought his need for her. “No. I… Not now. We will do so tonight. In a bed. As you deserve.”

  “I know what I deserve. Now do you, Jonathan Pierce Thatcher, Viscount Remington, want to engage me, Lady Victoria Jane Thatcher, in all physical matters and in turn make us both love each other more than we already do?”

  He swallowed. “Of course.”

  “Then do not make me beg for what is rightfully ours. For what has always been ours. Have we not waited long enough to be happy? Do we not deserve this moment? I am submitting everything I am to you, Jonathan, and ask you to submit everything you are to me.”

  God save him, this couldn’t be real. He gently set her against the wall, lifted her chin toward him and lowered his head. He covered her mouth with his own, wanting her to know that he loved her. So damn much.

  Nudging her lips farther apart, he pulled her tongue deep into his mouth and slid his hands down the length of her. He dug the tips of his fingers into the fabric of her gown in a desperate effort to contain his need to rip her dress apart and slam into her. What she needed from him was tenderness. Not more savage lust.

  Her hands sagged for a moment, then trailed down the length of the buttons on his waistcoat toward his trousers. He shifted to allow her hands to roam and pushed his tongue rigidly against hers, challenging her to do more. One hand slid toward his backside, whilst the other gently rubbed against his erection, causing him to grind against her hand to increase the tightening sensations coursing through his body.

  Her palm opened completely and rubbed the tip, finding it through the wool of his trousers, causing him to gasp against her mouth. He didn’t know if she knew what she was doing, but it felt amazing.

  Breaking their kiss, he set her more firmly against the wall and slid down the length of her body, savoring every curve that met his hands, until he was on his knees before her. He unfastened his trousers, pushed aside his undergarments and pulled out his heavy erection whose tip was already beading with wetness. He grabbed the hems of her skirts and threw them over his head, disappearing beneath them.

  “Jonathan!” she gasped.

  “Shh. It will be my lips and my hands you will forever remember.” Though he could see nothing, he could feel her soft warmth and smell her moistened lavender skin. He eased her silk stocking–clad legs apart and skimmed his lips past a lace garter toward the inside of her thigh. He drifted toward her warmth and dragged his tongue against her nub, then sucked. Dragged, then sucked.

  Her hips started to sway rhythmically against him, moans escaping her. It was beautiful and erotic.

  And he knew that if he should die come tomorrow morning in her honor, he would have died knowing he had finally claimed the greatest love he had ever known.

  AS JONATHAN’S hot tongue lapped at her wet folds, forcing sensations to sabotage all thoughts, Victoria sagged helplessly against the wall and set her palms against it in a desperate effort to steady herself. She gasped for air as his large warm hands firmly held her in place. He was reminding her that such touches were magnificent. Not vile. Not savage. They denoted love. The purest and truest love.

  Her knees grew weak against the tightening sensations overwhelming her and despite struggling to remain upright, she simply could not. With a moan, she slid heavily down the length of the wall toward him, causing him to stop. He withdrew from beneath her skirts just as she sagged onto the floor.

  With his dark hair ruffled from his adventures beneath the fabric, he rolled onto his back, dragging her along with him. Her long, unbound hair seemed to tumble everywhere around them.

  He lifted her and sat her just beneath his exposed erection. She pushed her hair back over her shoulders to keep it from interfering with everything he had in mind.

  Holding her gaze with searing blue eyes, he slowly dragged her skirts up and up and pushed the gathered material away, exposing her lower half to him. “You will be carrying our child soon,” he whispered up at her. “I will see to it. Tell me. How many children do you want? Do you even know?”

  Her skin prickled and her heart pounded, aware of what was about to happen and that a child could indeed come of it. Their child. She lifted herself slightly to allow him entrance. “Four,” she whispered back. “Promise me four.”

  “Four you will get.” His hand slipped between them as he guided himself to her opening. He paused, meeting her gaze.

  Sensing his hesitation, Victoria boldly defied him by forcefully sinking her entire weight down against that thick length. She gasped, stiffening against the unexpected searing pain that stretched and filled her.

  Jonathan let out an anguished moan and grabbed hold of her waist, burying himself even deeper. “Dearest God, this cannot be real.”

  It was real. All of it. Them. This.

  She sucked in a breath, trying to control the assault of physical sensations. It was equally as pleasurable as it was painful. “Is it supposed to hurt?”

  “You went too damn fast,” he breathed out, his chest heaving. “Do it slow for a bit of time. For both of our sakes. Or I will not last and you will not benefit. Now move against me. Slow. And once you are ready, fast.”

  She set her hands against his chest and slowly rose against his length and down it, the growing moisture surrounding her folds making it not only more tolerable but even enjoyable. With each slow and steady movement, she found herself growing more and more bold, allowing his rigid length to go deeper and deeper, stretching herself more. Sensations started to build and she began to lose the ability to go slow.

  He moved beneath her, his hold tightening on her waist as he fiercely took over each movement. “Look at me, Victoria,” he rasped. “I want you to look at me.”

  Their eyes locked.

  Holding her gaze, he thrust against her again and again, each thrust growing more violent and urgent. His shaven jaw grew tighter and tighter, his blue eyes never once leaving hers as he pounded up into her.

  “Say you love me,” he insisted. “Say it.”

  “I love you,” she choked out, pushing down against his relentless thrusts and sensing she was but a few strokes away from the bliss she so desperately sought.

  “Say it again.”

  “I love you,” she choked down at him, her voice echoing all around them in the ballroom.

  She held his gaze the whole while, gasping and swaying and meeting the demands of his raging lust that seemed to grow with each passing second. She wanted to prove to him that he needed her far too much to ever do anything that might force them apart. She thrust down against his thick length repeatedly, her moans mingling more steadily with his grunts as her body trembled and pushed her beyond anything she had ever experienced.

  “Look at me,” he huffed out, pumping even faster. He kept holding and holding her gaze as if he needed her in order to breathe and to live. “Do not ever once close your eyes. Do not ever let me go. Not even as you fly.”

  Her eyes widened as she stared down into those love-ridden, penetrating blue eyes. Her entire body at long last bloomed with an agonizing pleasure that made her cry out. She desperately fought to keep her head up over him and do as he commanded. She bucked against him, bliss shattering everything but her breath and those eyes that held so much love. She would never be the same. And she vowed to never hide from her emotions or from him ever again.

  JONATHAN’S MIND blanked as Victoria’s wet, squeezing warmth tightened around his thick length. She cried out, her body and hair swaying against him, her smooth face flushing, but held his gaze as he had commanded.

  Knowing she had found pleasure, he let a tormented groan escape him and quickly rolled her onto her back, ready to submit to his own. He set his hands just outside her shoulders and moved against her faster and faster, once again capturing those green eyes and silently comm
anding her never to let him go.

  His breaths grew more and more ragged as the onslaught of sensations made his world spin. “Victoria. God. Victoria. This is everything I ever wanted and more.”

  His entire body shook with an explosive rush he’d never known. He choked out moan after moan that echoed around them as his seed spilled into her womb.

  When his heart had eventually slowed, he kissed her smooth forehead, her nose and lips and withdrew himself gently, settling beside her on the floor. He closed his eyes for a moment, mentally and physically exhausted, and wondered what the hell had just happened to him. It was as if his soul had been cleansed. He had finally made love. He hadn’t fucked. He had made love.

  Victoria sighed wistfully. “Jonathan.”

  Still dazed, he turned to her, wrapping his arms around her, and cradled her against his chest. He nuzzled her abundant hair, the scent of soap and lavender calming his whirling thoughts. He lifted his head and smiled down at her, unable to find the words to express what this moment meant to him. She was finally his. All his. And no one and nothing was ever going to take her from him.

  After a few long moments, she whispered up at him, “I don’t want you to duel. I want my four children. And I want those children to have a father.”

  His chest tightened, reality slashing his thoughts yet again. He sat and pushed himself back into his trousers, fastening the flap into place. “There is nothing more to say.” He stood, reached down and, taking both of her hands, pulled her gently up onto her feet. Her skirts fell back down around her legs with a rustle. He kissed her hands. “When he arrives tomorrow, you will retire. I do not want him seeing you ever again. I will do what I need to do to protect you and your honor. If you defy me in this, I will ensure your bedchamber door is bolted shut. Is that understood?”

  She stared at him, abashed, and violently yanked her hands from his. “You are going to die and you expect me to be accepting of it?”

  “I expect you to respect my decision. As a man.”

  “Whilst you disrespect me as a woman?”

  “Enough. We will speak of this no more.”

  “So be it.” She frantically gathered the silver chain from around her throat and yanked it up over her head. Grabbing his hand, she thrust it into his palm. “Take this.” She yanked off the ruby ring from her finger and smacked it atop the pendant. “And this.”

  He drew in a sharp breath. “What are you informing me of? That after you have claimed the very last of me, you intend to toss me? For what? For defending your honor? As is my right as your husband? As is my right as a man?”

  She leveled him with a firm stare. “If you fight this duel, I will not be waiting for you, whether you live or die. And all you will have to remember me by, should you live, are the objects you now hold in your hand. For that is how you are treating me, Jonathan. As a possession of yours that some other man has put his hands upon.”

  Fury choked him. “I have always followed my heart, Victoria. Always. You cannot ask this heart to stop beating for what it holds to be true.”

  Tears glistened in her eyes and a choked sob escaped her lips. She stepped toward him, grabbed his hand and pried his fingers back and open. She snatched his ring, letting the pendant fall to the floor, and darted past him toward the window facing the canal. She unlatched the large window and pushed it open.

  He jerked toward her, his heart pounding. “What the devil are you doing?”

  “Freeing your soul.” She whipped the ring out into the murky green water outside the window.

  He choked and felt like sinking to the floor and never getting up again. His mother’s ring. His family legacy. His dreams, his hopes and everything it ever represented. Gone. All because—

  Anger swelled within him, almost keeping him from breathing. “Goddamn you!” he roared, stalking toward her. “Why do you always seek to rile me at every turn? Why?”

  She turned toward him, tears streaming down her flushed cheeks. “God. Damn. You. For one moment, cease thinking that I am the reason behind all of your problems. For one moment, consider the possibility that perhaps you are destroying yourself by having no self-control. I am warning you, Remington. You are about to lose far more than a stupid ring. Do what you must in the name of what you define as love and honor. Simply know that I will do what I must in the name of what I define as love and honor. I will leave you if you go against me in this. I will leave you. And even if you should live, I will never take you back. Ever.” She glared at him, then hurried past toward the closed doors, flung them open with a resounding bang and disappeared.

  “You know damn well I will only come after you!” he shouted after her. “Like I always do! Hell, you and I have been playing the same game ever since we first met! You run and I run faster! You think you can outrun me, Victoria? Is that what you think? Yes, well, try!”

  When there was no answer, Jonathan savagely swung his fist through the air. He punched the air again, wishing he had something to hit. Everything was falling apart. Everything! All because—

  He was going to put a dozen bullets into the marchese for destroying the last of his life. A dozen bullets. If not more.

  SCANDAL SEVENTEEN

  A lady’s definition of honor differs greatly from a gentleman’s. Which not only creates a vast number of misunderstandings, but also a vast amount of scandal.

  How To Avoid a Scandal, Author Unknown

  The following evening

  7:23 p.m.

  A LONGER, MORE agonizing day Jonathan had never known. Neither Cornelia nor Victoria would speak to him. They wouldn’t even acknowledge him when he entered the room. It made him want to shred himself apart.

  He had already talked himself out of wearing his blade or keeping it anywhere in the room where he waited. For he knew he would only use it the moment the marchese arrived.

  Giovanni set his hands behind his back and stalked the length of the parlor, his riding boots thudding against the marble. “Perhaps he will not come.”

  Jonathan seated himself on the closest chair and shifted against the cushion. He leaned back, trying to appear comfortable when he was anything but. “He will come. The man always adds an additional half hour to his schedule. He never likes to wait and therefore ensures others do the waiting instead. A trademark of his.”

  Giovanni swiped a hand over his face, his sapphire ring glinting in the candlelight. “Rethink what it is you seek to do. Honor means nothing to a dead man.”

  Jonathan placed his hands onto the chair’s armrests and dug the tips of his fingers into the gilded wood. “I am not dead yet.”

  Giovanni sighed and shook his head. He suddenly paused. His eyes widened as he smacked his hands soundly together. “I have it.”

  Jonathan eyed him. “What do you have?”

  Giovanni pointed at him. “The authorities will do nothing. But the Sei will.”

  “The Six?” Jonathan’s brows came together. “What the hell is that?”

  Giovanni waved his hands about as he approached. “No. Not what. Who. Six men who specialize in seeking out duelists. They banded together long before you ever arrived in Venice and have brought many powerful men to justice. Not just here but throughout all of Europe. I know their contact.”

  Jonathan stared at him, his throat tightening.

  Giovanni stepped closer. “If we inform them of this duel, they will send men to seize the marchese on the field at the appointed time and show no mercy. But they will also seize you, Remington. For they always seize both sides. Which means you and Victoria will have to leave Venice tonight. Before their contact is informed of it.”

  He was not about to yield. Not in this. Jonathan shook his head. “No. I allowed myself to be intimidated by that bastard once before and lost five years of my life. I am not about to—”

  The calling bell sounded.

  Jonathan stiffened. The butler had been instructed to escort the marchese into the parlor, allowing the man to think he was meeting Victoria.
>
  Giovanni’s dark gaze met his as the house grew eerily quiet again.

  Jonathan leaned back in his chair. “When he arrives, you will leave.”

  Giovanni blinked hard several times, tension etching into his forehead. “I promised Cornelia and Victoria I would remain at your side.”

  Jonathan glared at him. “I don’t want or need you any more involved than you already are.”

  “Regardless of what does or does not happen, you must abide by the code of honor.”

  “I will. I am, after all, a man of honor.”

  “If you strike him for any reason before the duel is set and conducted, you will be incriminated in court for being the aggressor should he be killed. You cannot touch him. Do you understand? Not under any circumstance.”

  “Yes.” Even though it was going to take the very hand of God to keep him from doing it.

  Steady footsteps echoed in the corridor outside.

  The marchese.

  Jonathan rose from his seat, flexing his gloved hands, and coolly turned toward the closed doors of the parlor, waiting.

  The doors of the parlor flew open and slammed against the walls, shaking the large portraits and gilded mirrors hanging throughout the room. The lit candles shuddered, shifting disfigured shadows across the high, crown-molded ceilings.

  The man was always one for making an entrance.

  A cloaked figure loomed in the doorway, looking like the Black Prince stepping out of hell wrapped in black satin and velvet. Except for those penetrating amber eyes and that set, shaven square jaw, the marchese’s face was hidden beneath a well-fitted black velvet mask. The man was known for visiting all of his lovers in masks, though he never wore the same mask twice and collected masks in the same manner he collected women.

  “Leave us, Giovanni,” Jonathan said tersely.

  Giovanni lingered beside him. “Remington—”

  “Giovanni,” Jonathan repeated. “I will abide by the code of honor. But only if you leave. So I suggest you leave.”