Her breath hitched, and he swallowed the startled sound between his parted lips.
She was his, always his.
The tightness in his chest eased, replaced by an entirely new feeling. Belonging, or was it happiness? Was this how it felt to be truly happy? Heavens, he wanted to explore this sensation forever. He gathered her closer. Their breaths mingled. The scent of their lovemaking flooded his senses. Fully intending to ravish her, Nicholas shifted his hold, giving him greater access to the sweetness of her mouth. His tongue licked across her lower lip, nipped, until she welcomed him in.
This moment had evaded him for far too long. From Africa to China, weeks and months at sea, all his exploring and plunder had not found him such treasures. Yet here she was, holding the key to his very happiness, ignorant to the crumbling walls around his heart. No other woman had ever affected him so.
He was lost in the sensation. Hungry for her touch. This woman, his wife, he would show her that she was more than vows said before a priest. He would show her that they were bonded.
Nicholas eased away from their embrace. “Does that answer your question, wife?”
She smiled wickedly up at him. “No.”
Nicholas’s grin widened as he reached for her again, but Isabella placed a finger on his lips. “But it tells me that your thoughts have wandered elsewhere.”
Nicholas laughed.
Thirty
Nicholas couldn’t remember a time when he was more pleased.
Cassie had embraced and accepted Isabella. She had also taken to learning with the same spirit she showed aboard his ship. Mature beyond her years, the child now acted and played more like the little girl he had seen start to disappear while at sea. He was to blame for the loss of her innocence. Five years ago, he hadn’t known what to do with a child, much less a lass. He’d treated her as he would a lad, taking her on voyages and having her at his heels when she should have been playing with other little girls.
Now he returned home to a wife and a marriage. Isabella surprised him. She’d fought for him—for them—even when he was prepared to grant her wishes of freedom. Isabella had set aside her fears. She had not doubted his faithfulness, and when they loved, they were equal. A position he was eager to implement in every aspect of their marriage.
It no longer mattered that he was not her peer or that she was abandoned by society. She loved him.
Closing his eyes, Nicholas recalled her whispered words of love. Those words gained entrance to every fiber of his being. He’d never felt more whole, more complete than when he was in Isabella’s arms.
With one last glance, he put Emsley’s notes into his desk. Harold had done well, winning not only what was owed to Isabella, but also to her father.
Isabella’s father would be repaid, but first, he’d see the money not gambled, but instead used to restore Lord Carolus Pennington’s property and coffers. Family was important. A strong one, more so. With Isabella as his wife, her father and sister were now an extension of his family, and he’d see them thrive.
Closing the drawer, he moved from behind the writing desk and lifted Cassie from the chesterfield and into his arms. He held her close. For the past two days, Cassie had only allowed him brief moments of solitude. He did not mind. He had missed her too.
“Let’s find your mother, shall we?”
“Papa, are we a family now?”
“Aye, lassie.”
Cassie hugged him. “You, me, Mama, Uncle Harold and Aunt Virginia?”
He nodded. “You have a grandpa too, sweetheart.”
She looked at him, wide eyed.
“Would you like to meet him?”
“Oh yes, Papa.” She frowned. “What if he doesn’t like me?”
“I think you’ll be his perfect second chance.” He tapped her nose.
“Papa? What’s wrong with Uncle Harold?”
He chuckled at the unexpected change in discussion. Harold suffered from the same ills he did. “He’s in love.”
She made a disgusted groan. “I’m never falling in love.”
Nicholas laughed and kissed her on the cheek. When they entered the music room, they found Isabella looking out the window.
“Isabella?”
Turning, she offered a weak smile, her eyes watering with unshed tears.
Setting Cassie on her feet, he said, “Why don’t you ask Miss Conley and Mrs. Berths to prepare a lunch?”
“With chocolate cake?”
“Aye lass, with chocolate cake.” When she skipped from the room, he waited a moment longer before turning to Isabella. “What’s wrong?”
Isabella wiped her cheek.
“Lass?” He moved until they faced each other.
When her fist moved along her skirt, only then did he notice the paper she held. Taking the letter, his eyes remained on her.
If this was another scandal in the dailies or another message uninviting her to an event, so help him, he’d see someone pay for hurting her. It was enough knowing he’d caused her pain.
“What’s this?”
“A letter from my father.”
He read the note once, twice, but couldn’t find the cause for her unhappiness. Then it dawned. “You mean he’s not paid you a visit?” The edge of the paper crumpled under his grip. How could the man not inquire as to his daughter’s well-being?
“I believe it’s shame that keeps him away.” Her lips quivered.
Nicholas shook his head. “I’m sorry, Isabella.” She came willingly when he folded his arms around her.
“To think that all this time he couldn’t forgive himself. That he, too, was hurting.”
Nicholas closed his eyes, holding her closer.
“Father wishes us happiness. He hopes in time I can forgive him.” She looked at him. “How can I?”
“Isabella.”
Pushing out of his arms, she shook her head and pointed to the letter. “He’s put my dowry into an account.”
Cursing under his breath, he ran his fingers through his hair.
“He’s had it all along! How different would my life be? Father could have asked me not to marry Emsley instead of lying to me. Instead, I’ve had nothing but scandal.”
“Would you have listened Isabella?”
She turned away.
“If your father had pointed out Emsley’s flaws, would you have listened?”
“He led me to believe—he led all of London to believe he’d lost my inheritance when in fact he’d chosen to deny… Father watched me struggle. How could I forgive that?”
He couldn’t let her go on hating her father, not when he was to blame. He’d lost his own father. Nicholas wouldn’t let Isabella lose hers, even if that meant everything they’d shared since his return would now be gone.
“Do you regret it, Isabella, not marrying him?”
“No!”
He cupped her face in both hands while he searched for the truth. Certain she no longer cared for the other man, Nicholas released her. His hands dug deep into his pockets. “Your father told the truth. Your dowry came from me.”
She gasped. “You paid for my hand?”
“We both know that’s not true.” His jaw clenched.
“I don’t understand.”
“We’d already come to an understanding when I visited your father. It was important to me that your independence be restored. In my own selfish way, I wanted to be the reason you chose my bed.”
“Oh, Nicholas.”
“I didn’t want coin or dependents to be the reasons you stayed. Can you understand that?” He looked at her. “I wouldn’t stand in your way should you choose to leave.”
“Leave? I love you, Nicholas.” Her arms circled his waist.
Eyes closed, he held her. “I love you too, lass. Isabella, I only wanted you to have the means to…”
“I know. Thank you.”
“You’ll make amends with your father?” He rested his forehead against hers, relieved that there were no more secrets between th
em.
“I would very much like that.”
“You’re not angry?”
A hiccupped laugh passed her lips. “That the mighty captain attended to my needs before his own? No, I’m not angry.” Joy, that’s what she felt as she rubbed her cheek against his chest. “Who knew you were this…tender.”
“I’m nay tender, lass.”
Isabella looked up and smiled. “You’re thoughtful, kind, and generous.”
Nicholas grumbled.
“And I love you,” she said.
“And?” he teased.
“Knowledge of your softer character will never leave this room.”
“I would hate to have my wife walk the plank.” Lowering his head, he whispered, “I love you,” before brushing his lips with hers. When she groaned impatiently, he deepened their kiss, giving his wife exactly what she sought.
Thirty One
Isabella slipped out the kitchen door with her bonnet and gloves in hand and walked the stone path to the garden. With Cassie off for an afternoon stroll with Virginia, she had an hour before sunset and Nicholas’s return home. She looked up at the late afternoon sun, which cast a warm orange glow across the sky.
She preferred the early morning hours, with the smell of roses and the fluttering of birds for company. But six months of marriage and Nicholas still kept them in bed past any respectable hour. She laughed. By the time their limbs were untangled, the sun would be high, and it would be too hot for outdoor work.
He did it on purpose. By starting her work at a late hour, he guaranteed she’d be where he wanted her. In bed. He’d stated as much without a trace of remorse.
She’d seen quite enough of dawn. Isabella smothered a yawn, promising to halt her husband’s insatiable lust. Or at least to regain one night’s sleep. None of her excuses or pretend ailments had worked. The man had a cure for everything, and she found herself, against her better judgment, enjoying his discovery of what ailed her.
Securing the wild curls of her hair under the bonnet, she pulled her work gloves on each hand and opened the door to the playhouse Harold built for Cassie. Smiling, she gathered the small box from the corner, tucking it under her arm. Isabella remembered the special pirate’s permission she’d received from Cassie to store her tools in the corner of the doll house. She was also warned against crossing the threshold with anything as frivolous as knitting, or, heaven forbid, embroidery.
She had laughed until the child had added a bit to the ceremony about being tossed overboard. She shivered, and wondered if Nicholas had ever tossed anyone into the sea.
Setting the box down, she quickly got to work pulling the weeds. Pashkin had wrinkled his nose at her request to help tend the garden, but she had insisted. Much to his displeasure, he relented, giving her a plot of soil at the far end of the garden. They’d worked side by side on many evenings—which she’d learned was the best time to avoid the heat—slowly gaining his approval.
Isabella straightened her shoulders when a shadow blocked the decreasing sunlight. “You’re incorrigible, Nicholas. Surely it’s not time yet. If you’re in need of my company, you’ll have to take a turn at pulling weeds.”
“As my mistress, there would be no need to play in the dirt.”
Isabella stiffened. The miniature shovel fell from her grip.
“I’ll see you in the style you’re accustomed.”
Gathering her skirts, Isabella stood, then turned. “But I’m not your mistress, Lord Emsley.”
“A technicality, one I would see corrected.”
“What do you want?” He was scaring her. “I have nothing else to say to you.”
“I came to have words with your bastard husband, but found you instead.” He shrugged. “You’ll do.”
He took a step towards her and she retreated with one of her own.
“Wait, Emsley,” she said, and was grateful when he halted. “What do you want with Nicholas?” Her brows drew together. Other than Nicholas marrying her when Emsley had other plans for her future, Isabella couldn’t see a reason why he sought her husband.
“Don’t play naive!” His mouth pressed into a thin hard line. “Innocence wouldn’t work now that all of London knows you are that bastard’s whore.”
Isabella shivered.
“He took a great deal from me.”
“I don’t understand.”
His lips twisted into a grimace.
“Nicholas had nothing to do with us, Emsley. It was your choice. You chose someone else, and now we’re both happier for it.”
“No matter. He’ll pay for taking what’s mine.”
Dear God, why wouldn’t he stop rambling?
This was not the Emsley she remembered—the doting fiancé who indulged her childhood dreams and planned a future. This man’s eyes burned with lust and greed. And he’d lost weight, drawing out the bones on his face.
“Your captain acted too hastily. My wife’s estate is mine in name only, least until after the birth of my first heir.” His smile was mocking. “But he holds my purse. I mean to have it back.”
What on earth was he talking about?
He advanced again, forcing her to retreat further down the slope. She glanced towards the back of the house. With luck, someone had seen Emsley or would come looking for her.
Isabella shook her head as Emsley continued to ramble about the money Nicholas had stolen from him. The man did not make sense. Nicholas had a thriving business. He didn’t need Emsley’s coin. Then she remembered Nicholas’s promise to see her return to society, and there was the dowry.
Her stomach dropped. If she was right, then Emsley might be much more dangerous than she had first thought.
“Think of your wife,” she said, trying to reason with him. “This is madness.”
“She’s a cunning little gem.” His head tilted. “She’s the one who suggested making you my mistress.”
Her brows rose. The first beads of sweat pooled along her spine.
“She devised a plan to make sure you were dependent on my support, and to secure your inheritance from your father as well. I wasn’t sure at first, I really wanted you. Still do.” His eyes raked along the length of her. “Such a nice girl you were. Untouched.”
She pressed the back of her hand against her lips, suppressing a strangled cry. Her back came against the rough bark of an oak tree, and Isabella knew she’d retreated too far to be seen from the house.
“You’re no better than the rest of them,” he snickered, regaining her attention. “Not even a year and you were lifting your skirts.”
“He’s my husband.”
“He wouldn’t want you after I have a turn.”
“You’re wrong!”
She briefly thought of running, but his fingers closed around her upper arm.
He drew a gun from the breast pocket of his coat. Isabella whimpered. Suddenly she feared being rescued. What if someone got injured, what if it was little Cassie? Tears clouded her vision.
Emsley was mad.
Did he think she would welcome him after he married someone else? How had she not seen this side of him? Pressing her back further against the tree, she prayed for distance.
“I didn’t know you had plans for us.”
“Of course I did,” he said, as though she was dense. “I was coming for you that very night. My wife thought a public show of sympathy and our offer of friendship would…” He shook his head as if disagreeing with his wife’s reasoning.
“Think about what you’re doing… Your wife couldn’t have approved of this.” To her horror, even as she said the words, they did not hold conviction.
He shrugged. “My wife only cares for wealth and has taken lovers of her own.”
Truly, they were insane. “How did you know my father would act as you wished?”
A spark grew, softening his dark eyes. “He is a bad hand at cards. Once I called in my debt, and you were disgraced…he no longer had an enticing dowry. It was not my intention to disgrace you, Isab
ella.”
Isabella spread her arms. “Yet, here we are.”
“I needed to show you I was your only way. What difference would it have made if the ton thought we were lovers? You were going to be mine in the end.”
Penniless and soiled, her father no longer had a daughter to repair his coffers and he had one more to marry off—her younger sister. And it had all been part of Emsley’s plan. Emsley and his wife sought to bend her to their will. A wave of nausea curled in her stomach.
“You have everything,” she said, unable to suppress a gasp when his body pinned her to the tree. “Surely you can find others.”
“I still want you as my mistress.”
Isabella flinched.
The gun pressed against her side, Emsley released her arm. He hiked her skirts.
“Please no!”
“You’ve already lifted them for that bastard when it should have been me. You’ll like me better between your thighs.”
His mouth crashed against hers with punishing assurance. Isabella pushed his chest, fists beating against his shoulders with little damage, until one of her wild blows connected with his ear.
He would not have this. She would not let him!
“Stop,” he grunted, bringing the gun fully between them.
Isabella screamed as his hand clutched her undergarments. He tugged roughly. The sound of ripping fabric pierced the quiet evening.
Shock stilled her. Her eyes squeezed shut. “I’ll never forgive you.”
“In time…”
“Never! Nicholas will see you dead.” She looked at him. “And I,” she leaned forward, “hope to hear you beg when he does so.”
Wildly, she struck his face, again and again, until he released her skirts.
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