Only Scandal Will Do

by Jenna Jaxon

  “You enjoy the ride most this time of day, Lady Dalbury?”

  She’d glanced at him with an almost-smile on her lips. “I do indeed, my lord. The air is clean, the birds are just beginning to trill, the park is all but deserted. If I close my eyes, I can almost believe I am riding the paths and meadows around Yorktown.”

  “You miss Virginia very much.”

  She’d pulled Stella to a halt and turned in her saddle to glare at him, a scornful gleam in her eyes. “I would almost be in Virginia now, Lord Dalbury, were it not for your interference.” She’d tapped Stella’s flank, and horse and rider shot away down the straight path.

  With a muttered curse, he’d urged Saxon into pursuit and caught up to them only when Katarina slowed her mount for another party of riders to cross the path. She’d glared, daring him to censure her for her abrupt departure. He’d done no such thing, but fallen in again beside her. “I take that as an affirmation of my statement, Lady Dalbury,” he’d said as though a full ten minutes had not elapsed.

  Her lips had twisted in a caricature of a smile. “Yes, I do miss Virginia, more than I can tell you. I feel exiled from the place that was home all my life.”

  “Ah. I do know something of that feeling, my lady,” he said softly.

  Her eyebrows rose. “Do you indeed?”

  “I was all but exiled in Italy for most of last year. Self-exile to be sure, but I could not have returned home any sooner, though I longed for Dunham House and Juliet.”

  Silent, she’d leaned over Stella, and made a show of adjusting the reins. Ignoring his words.

  “I will take you to Virginia, my lady, if you so long to go there.” The unexpected offer surprised him as much as it must have startled her, for she jerked upright, and her eyes grew wide. He’d meant it as a peace offering, to show her the lengths to which he would go to gain her favor.

  Ferocious indignation had flashed across her face, made her terrible to behold. One would have thought he’d asked her to strip naked in public rather than offered to take her to her beloved Virginia. He’d almost cringed when she’d leaned toward him.

  “How dare you try to buy my affections, Lord Dalbury!” Outrage had fairly shimmered through her. “Just because you have bought everything else, including your wife, does not give you the right to think you can bribe me into sharing your bed if you dangle the promise of returning me to my homeland before my eyes. It will be a cold day in hell before I do any such thing.”

  Appalled at her words, he’d scowled at her, all tender sentiments dashed. “Have I spoken any word whatsoever, madam, about sharing my bed? I offered to ease your obvious longing for Virginia. I did not try to coerce you into my bedroom! Did I say a word about reciprocation?”

  Anyone within half a mile could have undoubtedly heard him, but he’d paid no mind. “No! In fact,” he’d continued, more quietly and through gritted teeth, “I have asked nothing of you since the day we married. You alone have dictated our relationship while I have tried, God knows why, to make our marriage work. And you have thwarted me at every turn. Well, I say to hell with you!”

  During his tirade, Katarina’s eyes had assumed the proportions of china saucers. All the bitter weeks of her callous disregard of him had burst forth in his mind. He’d leaned toward her and she’d shrunk back on Stella. “I may be married to you, Lady Dalbury, but if you persist in acting this way, I no longer choose to pursue any kind of association with you. Do not worry about any further amorous advances from me, my lady. In fact, I can easily arrange for you to see very little of me in the future. I am sure that is one thing I can do for you that will give you the greatest pleasure possible.”

  He’d turned Saxon to head for home, his mind a seething turmoil of outrage, his breath pumping in and out of his lungs like a bellows.

  She’d shot her slim hand out, gripping his wrist before he could put any distance between them. “Wait, my lord!”

  He’d instinctively lifted the reins, which had caused Saxon to arch his neck sharply. He controlled the confused stallion, himself as bewildered and astonished as his mount. He’d raised his gaze to the blushing, anxious face of his wife. Openmouthed, she’d hesitated as though she did not quite know what to say.

  “I am sorry, my lord, for my unkind words just now,” she’d blurted out. A moment, then she’d grinned at him. “That must be the most inadequate interpretation of the word ‘unkind’ in the history of the English language.”

  He’d schooled his expression to be neutral, but held his breath.

  Katarina had sighed, squeezed his wrist slightly, and released it. His heartbeat had pounded at the gesture and he’d hoped she could not hear it. She’d raised her eyes to him, true regret in her face. “I do apologize, for my malicious and unjust words. My brother will tell you I have a tendency to jump to conclusions and speak before I think. Two serious flaws that have gotten me into trouble before now.” Her face was a study in contrition and the next words came slowly, almost grudgingly. “I know you have tried very hard these past weeks to...make me feel welcome in your home.” She’d stared unflinching into his eyes. “You have been most considerate of me. I acknowledge that and thank you for your many kindnesses. To repay them with spite as I did just now is unworthy of me. I feel I must find a way to make amends.”

  He’d taken her hand, raised it to his lips and kissed it. “You just did.”

  Blushing to the roots of her hair, she’d withdrawn her hand from his loose clasp. But hadn’t snatched it away. “I rather thought you might insist on a hair shirt or daily beatings.”

  “But my lady,” he’d returned, affecting his own teasing air, “hair shirts are simply de trop these days. I don’t know where I might buy a single one.” He’d grinned and his voice had taken on a good-humored tone. “As for your other suggestion, you may recall your brother and I have yet to agree on who has the right to beat you since we’ve married. Until we can agree on who holds that privilege, I believe we shall have to forgo that particular method of vengeance.” He’d winked at her. “I suppose I must leave you in suspense as to your doom for a while longer.”

  She’d laughed at his nonsense and, chatting amiably enough, they’d walked their horses home side by side. He was struck by the timing of her apology. She had not offered to apologize until he’d mentioned absenting himself from her. Perhaps it meant nothing, perhaps everything.

  After that morning, her attitude changed toward him. She did not avoid him as before and seemed more willing to talk with him both in company and private. With this tantalizing change, he now had hope.

  Duncan turned once more so he could gaze down on his wife out in the garden, and thought with relish about his plan for the afternoon: a new scheme to seduce his wife. One he knew Katarina would find impossible to resist.

  Chapter 23

  A servant approached the ladies in the garden below to announce luncheon. Duncan joined them in the breakfast room, and was regaled anew by Juliet with her delight over Mr. Sutton’s charms. Though he listened and smiled at her raptures, he rarely took his eyes away from his wife. She noticed because though she kept up her end of the conversation, she also darted glances at him throughout the meal, blushing when she discovered his attentions focused on her alone. By the time lunch was over she seemed more than a little flustered, especially when he asked for a word alone with her.

  Juliet shot Duncan a quizzical glance, but obliged by escorting Lady Honoria out. Katarina still sat at the table and seemed restless, removing her napkin from her lap, folding it, laying it beside her plate. At last, she raised her head.

  “You wished to speak with me, my lord?”

  “Yes, Lady Dalbury. About an urgent matter.”

  The look in her deep blue eyes became guarded. “Whatever is it? Have you received unwelcome news this morning?”

  Duncan smiled, shaking his head to reassure her. “Not unwelcome, but urgent nonetheless.” He crossed around the table, took her hands and raised her from her chair. “I s
imply realized that we have been married just over a month. Which means...” He paused to enhance the drama of his words with rakish aplomb. “Neither of us has held a sword for far too long.”

  Her expression changed from a frightened pucker to a smile that reached all the way to her eyes. One such as he had never seen from her before. He was completely dazzled.

  “Indeed, you speak the truth,” she said, laughter in her voice.

  “I thought perhaps we should remedy that lack this afternoon, if you would care to meet me. I have foils in the study and we can of course use the ballroom–”

  He stopped short, horribly afraid the mention of that room would stir unpleasant memories and banish her enchanting good mood. For she was in a good mood. Was this all it took to make her happy? He would fence with her every day of the year if that were true.

  “Yes, of course,” she said with a girlish lilt. “I have not held a blade in an age. I always managed to practice with Jack or one of my father’s men at least once or twice a week before we came to London. Since arriving here I have been sorely lacking in partners.” Her lips curved upward with a rueful twist. “I trust you will not disarm me too soon this time, my lord?”

  His heart soared and the roaring in his ears kept him from answering straight away. He returned her smile and managed to reply, “No, my lady. I would not have our match end too soon. And who knows, you may discover how to defend against it.”

  Her answering laughter was heady stuff. He had stepped into a different world, where he and his wife enjoyed each other’s company. If that were the case, pray God he never returned to the real one. For this vision of Katarina, warm and laughing, he would not give up now he had found it.

  She still smiled at him, cerulean blue eyes snapping with excitement. Suddenly he was all too aware that her green and gold gown molded to her luscious body in a way that seemed most proper and shockingly indecent. Duncan had schooled himself over the past month not to think about that body, though he could conjure it up in an instant if he allowed himself the sinful luxury. Such indulgences served no purpose, for her coldness toward him meant any thought of easing his very real needs with her died a chilly death at birth. But this new Katarina gave hope to his desires. The first part of his little plan had worked magnificently.

  Startled, he realized that he continued to hold her hands; she had not withdrawn them. He lifted them one at a time for a brief kiss. “Will you go to change then, fair adversary, and meet me in the study in say, half an hour’s time? We can choose weapons and proceed to the practice room.” Yes, practice room sounded much better.

  “In half an hour then.” She seemed to fly to the door, but paused before leaving the room. “Pray do not be late, lest you lose the wager this time.” Katarina threw a glance over her shoulder with an impish grin.

  “We are to bet again, Lady Dalbury?” He should have known she would come up with the same idea as he.

  “But of course, my lord. It makes the match much more exciting, does it not?” Her clear eyes sparkled. “Much more dangerous, even. Depending on the stakes, that is.”

  “And what do you have in mind this time?” Fascinated by this turn of events, Duncan could not help but wonder if she had set a trap for him. He must never underestimate his wife in anything.

  “But that would be telling.” She laughed gaily at him. “In half an hour?”

  At his nod, she flashed another grin and was out the door. He almost pinched his arm, afraid he was dreaming, and then hurried to his bedchamber to dress for what he hoped would prove the best afternoon of his short married life.

  * * * *

  She was in danger. As she flew up the stairs to change into her fencing costume, Kat tried to impose caution and restraint. This match was another trap her husband had laid for her. Most of his attempts to lure her into spending time in his company the past month had failed, but this one...this one called like a siren song. To fence again. She could not restrain her glee at the prospect when he’d proposed it, especially when she’d expected him to refer to another, more disquieting matter–the unconsummated state of their marriage.

  But he wanted to fence with her instead. She would fence with the devil himself just to be able to hold a sword again. “I suppose that is what this amounts to.” The snide remark sprang forth of its own accord, though it was hardly fair. Dalbury had made quite an effort to be kind.

  Oh, why did she defend the wretch?

  Because Jack had deserted her since the wedding so she’d been forced to get used to being around her husband. That’s all it was.

  Damn. She was lying to herself, just as she had been that morning in the park.

  Almost losing her good mood, she pushed all thoughts not related to fencing out of her mind. She wanted to enjoy this afternoon. Calling for Margery to fetch her fencing clothes, Kat tore out of her gown, impatient lest she be late for the match. She dressed in a frenzy, yet stood in the study alongside her husband, correctly attired, checking a slender foil for balance, within the allotted thirty minutes.

  “These are lovely blades, Lord Dalbury.” She sighted along hers, admiring the straight shaft and excellent quality of the steel.

  “I brought them back from Italy earlier this year. I found many fine weapons and some of the greatest masters of the art there. I was fortunate to have studied with one during most of my visit.” Dalbury answered amiably enough, but his gaze strayed more than once to her legs.

  A giggle nearly escaped her. Well, he had seen her in breeches and stockings before and if showing them still gave her an advantage, she would say thank you and take whatever help she could get.

  Dalbury sighed and shifted his attention to the sword in her hand. “The blade is satisfactory to you, then?”

  “Indeed it is.”

  “Then let us proceed to the practice room.” He escorted her down the sun-drenched hall, his strides so long she could scarcely keep up. He walked as though nothing tied him to the earth. “Shall we say the first to make three touches wins the match?”

  “That sounds fair.” They entered the ballroom and she strode into the center of the familiar long, rectangular box. She ignored its memories and implications, instead taking her stance, crouching on bent knees, foil in second position with the blade pointed down in front of her. Before Dalbury could take his place opposite her, she rose.

  “My lord, we have not yet agreed on the wager. We should lay out the terms before the match begins.”

  “You are correct. The stakes must be agreed upon. What would you care to wager?”

  Not a hint of the suggestive in his tone. That pleased her. Or did it?

  She shook off the odd question and smiled engagingly before making her demands. “If I win the match, you will agree to teach me that devilish disarm with which you won our last match.”

  He frowned in pretended outrage, though his eyes glinted with amusement. “Give away one of my best secrets, my lady? So that you could use it on me, perhaps?”

  Laughing, she shook her head. “On Jack, my lord!”

  He joined her laughter and nodded. “Just so, Lady Dalbury. If I lose, I will teach you to perform that particular disarm.” He paused, then continued wickedly, “I will not, however, teach you how to defend against it.”

  “Unfair, my lord!”

  “I must find some way to protect my interests.” His smile made him seem young, somehow vulnerable. Her resolve slipped several notches and her mouth went dry. A rush of heat spread throughout her body as if a wild fever possessed her.

  “Now for your forfeit, Lady Dalbury.”

  Sheer will forced Katarina to reply normally. “What will you claim as prize if you win?” The implication she’d heard in her own words brought her up short. She was a fool not to have made some things off limits.

  “Last time the prize was your illustrious self. Can the wager this time be for anything less magnificent?”

  Oh God! What had she left herself open to? How rash and impulsive!

>   “Name it then, my lord, that we may be about our business.” She could have bitten her tongue out when she realized how that sounded, even to her own ears.

  But Dalbury seemed again not to notice. He simply let his gaze linger on her face for several moments before replying, “Should I win this match, it is then my right to claim...” He arched a brow, grinning. “A kiss from you.”

  Kat stared, amazed, at a complete loss for words. He could have just as easily claimed his marital rights without force. “Just a kiss?” She blushed to hear her voice much higher pitched than normal.

  “No kiss is ever ‘just a kiss,’ Lady Dalbury.” His eyes heated with the promise to show her exactly what he meant as soon as possible. “So I am to instruct you, regardless, this afternoon. You are ready?”

  She nodded, and forcing herself to become the trained swordswoman, mentally and physically, drew a deep breath and exhaled. To fence again was pure happiness, and she couldn’t help grinning at her opponent.

  Dalbury assumed his stance and nodded to her. “Pret! Aller!”

  And she flew forward, attacking him with cold-blooded certainty, the exhilaration of the challenge wiping away all thought of the consequences should she again lose a match to the Marquess of Dalbury.

  Chapter 24

  Katarina parried Dalbury’s cut to her left shoulder, the zing of metal singing in her ear. He was going to win again, curse him! She retaliated with an attempt to bind his blade over, but he withdrew and lunged, aiming now for her right knee. The absolute concentration on his face was maddening; his impish grin even more so. They had been fencing for some ten minutes and already she knew she could not best her opponent. But, how it invigorated her to try!

  He scored a hit to her arm early on, despite her first bold attack. Then, not a minute later she managed to penetrate his guard and land her first blow on his shoulder.

  His eyes lit up, as if a flame had been ignited there. “A hit,” he acknowledged. The warm approval in his voice bespoke his admiration of her skill, leaving her so elated she took her mind off the match.