by Yasmine Nash
Until that moment, Descamps had never had an urge to hit a woman. His father would not have stood for Caroline’s insult, but Descamps refused to be his father, even under these circumstances. Instead, he had bottled all his rage and hurt inside his chest and said as coldly as he could that she was right, he didn’t care. And if she was so unhappy, she need not stay there at Highmount any longer. His emotionless response had made her even more furious, he could tell, and he took twisted pleasure from that.
Let her move away. Let the entire world laugh at him. He wouldn’t care.
But before Caroline could leave the castle, she grew ill. She miscarried, and the bleeding didn’t stop. She died shortly thereafter, probably cursing her husband with her last breath. Naturally, the doctor who treated her assumed Descamps was the unborn baby’s father.
Descamps felt all the pain of her loss, but having learned to keep his feelings bottled inside, he did not show it to the world. And as a result of his perceived indifference, rumors spread. Rumors Descamps could not be bothered with.
He didn’t know how his marriage had come to that point. He had entered it with hope, and that hope had been rewarded with pain and betrayal.
Perhaps he had not murdered his wife, but he had been the cause of her death. Something inside him was broken; that was the only explanation for why Caroline had been so unhappy. And so there was one more name Descamps added to the list of those he had caused pain to over the years.
Many years had passed since Caroline’s death. For much of the period afterward, he had been determined never to marry again. But the thought of having a child finally propelled him to change his mind.
Quiet, hardworking Amanda was nothing like his first wife. There was a discreet strength hidden in the set of her shoulders that belied her narrow frame. Perhaps that was why he had been drawn to her.
Descamps would not make the mistake of loving her, like he had loved Caroline and Frederick and his mother. But he would be good to her—at least as much as he was able.
And if Amanda could withstand his coldness long enough for her to get with child, perhaps she could bestow all the love she wanted to give to her husband on their future child instead.
A member of the Descamps line who had a happy childhood—what a thought! But it was possible.
He realized now what had drawn him to his new wife was the openness of her own heart, in stark contrast to his own. Although Descamps had long ago promised never to harm a child, just as he would never hurt a woman, he did not think he would make a very loving father.
However, he had enough feeling left inside him to wish any future child of his would be raised with love. The love Amanda bore for her family was clear. If the cursed castle didn’t force it out of her, she would make a loving mother. Even the way she interacted with the servants was so different from how Caroline or his parents ever had. She treated them like human beings.
“My lord?” Amanda asked. She was sitting across from him in the drawing room, a blunt knife in her hands.
Descamps started. How long had he been lost in that reverie about the past? He took a swallow of his tea. Long enough for his drink to have grown cold, he realized. It had been years since he had allowed himself to think of those memories.
“Would you like me to cut you a slice of cake?” Amanda said, and Descamps wondered if this wasn’t the first time she had had to repeat herself.
He shook his head, so she cut a small piece for herself. She was still staring at him curiously.
“Tell me about your family,” Descamps said, hoping to rid himself once and for all of the gloomy thoughts which had taken residence in his head. Amanda looked surprised to be asked, but she obliged.
She spoke for a while about her parents and her relationship with her sisters. She even honestly told him of her father’s gambling addiction, something which Descamps had already ascertained for himself, although he didn’t say as much. Perhaps Amanda didn’t feel ashamed now that he had opened up to her about his own parents.
Every few minutes, Amanda would trail off, as though unsure whether she should keep talking, and Descamps would encourage her with a follow-up question to keep her talking.
Amanda’s life, aside from her foolish father, had been blissfully normal. And even her parents, for all their faults, had seemed to have loving hearts. Good. That was good. Descamps felt the gentle tones of her voice soothe his troubled mind.
“You should invite your sisters to stay,” he said, when she had trailed off again. “After you’ve made the changes you have in mind to the castle. And after you’ve settled in.”
Amanda’s mouth was open wide. His eyes lingered on her lips. Had they always looked so full?
“Thank you, my lord. I shall be very glad to do so.” She smiled shyly at him.
A knot of dread formed in Descamps’ stomach. He had been hoping to make Amanda feel more at ease, but now he worried he had gone too far. It wouldn’t do to raise her hopes that he could love her. He let a mask fall over his face again and her smile faded away.
“You can eat supper without me. I have a meeting this evening and won’t return until late.” Amanda’s face fell even more.
“Expect me to visit you in your room tonight,” he added matter-of-factly. Descamps saw the look of surprise and embarrassment cross her face, but he wasn’t one to be coy. Might as well get it over with.
And, even though he didn’t want to admit it to himself, part of Descamps wanted to make good on that promise he had made to her the other night. He was looking forward to hearing Amanda call out his name.
5
Chapter 5
Amanda took her supper in her room that evening. No sense in sitting at that big table all by herself if her husband wasn’t going to join her.
Her husband.
Amanda’s face still went red when she thought of how he had so casually promised to visit her bed tonight. She supposed it was time. Most couples consummated their marriage on the wedding night, after all. And until they did so, their marriage wouldn’t be considered valid in the eyes of church or state. Even so, she was a mess of nerves at the thought of what was to come.
At least now, she felt like she had a better understanding of her husband. She would never have expected an admission like the one he had shared with her, but it made her look at him in a different light. And then he had been so polite in learning all about her family while they enjoyed their tea earlier. For a moment, he had seemed like a different man.
Amanda was wearing her nicest nightgown, one covered in lace and delicate whitework which had taken her months to complete. She had let Sara take her brown hair down and brush it out, so it curled around her shoulders in soft ripples.
This waiting would drive her mad with nerves. Amanda had tried writing to her family, but she was unable to concentrate. She couldn’t even decide whether she was dreading the event or looking forward to it.
It would have been better if her husband hadn’t told her it was coming, so she wouldn’t have to suffer through this interminable waiting. After several minutes spent pacing around her large room, Amanda forced herself into the bed.
She would occupy her mind with a book, she decided. But every passing servant in the corridor made her start, wondering whether it was her husband coming at last. Finally, she heard a clock strike 11 in some distant room.
Perhaps he had changed his mind. Blowing out the candle beside her bed, Amanda lay down to sleep.
She was woken sometime later—she wasn’t sure when—by a knocking on the door connecting her room to her husband’s.
“Are you awake, wife?” came her husband’s low voice.
Amanda sat up in her bed, rubbing her eyes blearily. So he had decided to visit her after all.
“I’m awake,” she said, her voice raspy with sleep. “Come in.”
At her words, Descamps entered her room, taking in the sight of Amanda in her bed. He stared at her for a moment, his expression in shadows. Amanda watched h
im nervously, all traces of sleepiness suddenly gone. He looked so imposing, standing there at the foot of her bed in silence.
He came forward then and placed the candle beside Amanda’s unlit one, then sat next to her on the mattress. She caught a faint whiff of the brandy he had probably drunk after his meal.
“I apologize for keeping you waiting,” Descamps said. “I was detained.”
“Think nothing of it,” Amanda managed to squeak out. It was hard to think with him so close to her. Had he always looked so compelling?
Descamps stared at her again, taking in her appearance, eyes lingering for a moment on the low cut of her nightgown. “You have been sleeping,” he said, lifting his gaze again. “If I had known, I wouldn’t have woken you.”
Amanda’s heart was pounding. “It’s all right,” she squeaked again. She paused for a moment, and then she ventured in a whisper, “I’ve heard it’s painful. A woman’s first time.”
Her mother had said she would bleed, too. All in all, lovemaking had not sounded like a very pleasant activity, but now, with the baron so near to her, Amanda’s resistance was failing.
“You’re nervous,” he said. Descamps reached a hand up to Amanda’s cheek and stroked a finger along her skin.
She nodded, unable to speak now. The feeling of his hand on her face was so distracting. But not in a bad way, she decided.
“I will be gentle,” Descamps promised. “I’m not a monster. And while there may be some pain, I will make sure you enjoy yourself, too.” Amanda shivered, and she didn’t know now whether it was from anticipation or dread.
Descamps leaned closer and ran his finger around the outer edge of her lips. Without thinking, Amanda opened her mouth slightly.
“You have very kissable lips,” her husband said, sounding almost surprised. “I have to admit, I’ve been wanting to taste them again ever since the other night.”
Amanda’s breath hitched, and Descamps chose that moment to lean in and capture her mouth in his. Like last time, the kiss started out gentle, but now it was Amanda who intensified it. Feeling bold, she took her husband’s lower lip into her mouth and sucked gently on it. He pulled back slightly and stared at her, and there was definitely surprise in his gaze now.
What had possessed her to do that? She immediately felt embarrassed and tried to pull away, but her husband’s hand had a firm grip on her chin.
“Sorry,” she said, staring at her husband’s ear rather than meet his gaze. “I don’t know why I did that.”
“Don’t apologize,” he said, his voice gravelly. “I liked it.”
When Amanda looked up at that, Descamps took the opportunity to kiss her again, this time rougher than before. She responded eagerly, trying her best to mimic everything he did.
She grew lost in the feel of the kiss, reveling in the warm sparks that lit up every place he touched. At some point—Amanda wasn’t sure how much time had passed—Descamps began kissing his way down her neck and along her chest. His stubble scratched her skin, but she liked the rough, masculine feel of it.
Her breathing was coming very fast now. The baron trailed one deft finger over her breast through the thin cotton material of her nightgown. Even in the dark, she could see her nipples were standing up through the fabric. Her feeling of embarrassment turned into a moan, however, as his skilled fingers began playing with her nipples, alternately circling them and then squeezing the sensitive nubs. His other hand firmly gripped her butt.
Amanda gasped in surprise. Her mother had never mentioned this part of the lovemaking process. All her nerves had faded away now. Amanda lost herself to the sensations her husband was drawing out of her, until she no longer was even aware of the sounds coming from her mouth. All her thought was focused on those two warm hands and that mouth of his, which had returned to place more kisses on her lips.
Descamps moved against her body and Amanda felt something hard and firm press into her thigh. She shifted her leg experimentally along the length and was rewarded by Descamps letting loose a low growl. In response, he reached down a hand and trailed his fingers expertly between her legs, eliciting more breathy gasps from Amanda. Who knew she was even capable of feeling such sensations?
Her mind was foggy, wiping away any embarrassment she might have felt had she considered what was happening right now. All she knew was she wanted more, and the baron seemed content to comply. His fingers stroked her until she was aching with need. Then with his other hand, Descamps loosened his trousers, freeing his member and guiding it in between her legs.
When he finally entered her, Amanda felt a sharp pain and she gasped. Descamps’ clever mouth and fingers soon distracted her though, and the pain was quickly overtaken by more pleasant sensations. He soon found a rhythm with his thrusts that had Amanda moaning. She felt like she was standing on the edge of a cliff.
Descamps lifted his mouth from hers to speak. “I made you a promise, remember? And I expect to keep it. Say my name.”
He thrust harder. Amanda gasped at the feeling. “My lord,” she breathed out.
“What do you want me to do?” he asked her, his muscular chest glistening in the candlelight with a faint sheen of sweat.
She shook her head, unsure of how to put what she needed into words.
“I…please, my lord.”
All thoughts of shame and embarrassment were gone. All that was left was the growing sense of need and the ache deep inside her. Her breath was coming faster now.
“Please,” Amanda whispered again plaintively.
Descamps grinned. “Close enough,” he said, reaching a hand down between her legs to stroke her alongside his thrusts.
That was all she had needed. Within a few seconds, something inside her snapped and she was gone. It felt as though a current of lightning had shot all along her body. Amanda was still reeling a few moments later when the baron groaned, and she felt something hot and sticky spill between her legs. That must be his seed.
Descamps kissed her one more time, softly, then lay down beside her. She basked in the warm afterglow she was feeling, wondering in it. It had only been a few minutes, however —Amanda’s breath hadn’t even returned to normal yet—before he rose and began dressing again.
“Are you leaving?” she asked, sitting up halfway to watch. Why did the thought make her feel so disappointed? Now that his duty was done, could her husband not stand to be in the same bed with her another minute longer?
“I’ll leave you to your rest,” Descamps said. “I’ll see you in the morning. Goodnight, wife.”
Another glance and then he went through the door back to his own chambers, leaving Amanda feeling cold and alone in her bed.
6
Chapter 6
Reflections on his new wife had occupied Descamps’ thoughts for longer than he would like to admit after he returned to his bed last night. It had been a while since he had lain with a woman, but even so, he hadn’t expected it to feel like…that.
He had had trouble holding himself back until after his wife’s needs had been sated. For a few minutes, he had even been worried he couldn’t control himself, like he was a damned teenager again.
Seeing her so removed from her defenses, writhing in his arms and moaning…that had done a number on him, for sure. It was one of the most seductive sights Descamps had ever seen.
It was actually a relief to know that he and his wife could share this part of their lives together. Even though he couldn’t meet her emotional needs, he could damn well sure satisfy her physically, that much was clear. Those sounds she’d made while she came last night had been accompanied by her fingers scratching along his back. He was fairly certain she hadn’t even been aware she was doing it at the time.
The memory had made him hard, he realized, looking down the length of his tented bedsheets. He was half tempted to pay his wife another visit in her chambers, but he restrained himself. There would be plenty of time to do that tonight. And every night for the foreseeable future. Descamps was surpr
ised to find that the thought gave him a great deal of pleasure.
When his wife joined him for breakfast, she looked as put together as always, but he was pleased to see that her lips were still slightly swollen from where he had kissed her the night before. The thought filled him with a strange sense of pride, as though he were an animal who had marked his prey.
Their escapades the previous night seemed to be very much on her mind as well, for his bride couldn’t bring herself to look him in the eye without blushing. For once, she didn’t attempt to engage him in conversation. Instead, she shyly watched him over her raised cup of tea.
Descamps sighed. This was something he did not have the patience for. It was partly why he had decided it best not to spend the night in her bed, no matter how inviting his wife’s embrace had seemed last night. He did not want to lead her on to believe there could be more to their marriage than the necessary—if enjoyable—obligations of the marriage bed.
The foolish woman was so desperate to love someone; if he only gave her half an opportunity, she would probably lose her heart to him within a fortnight. Instead of making him happy, the thought filled Descamps with dread.
He had some fondness for his new wife, he couldn’t deny that any longer. But any emotions more powerful than that were out of the picture for him. His heart had closed off years ago and no one, not even Amanda Wilberry, was capable of opening it back up.
He could not love her, but despite what the rest of the world might believe, he was not so heartless as to want to see her hurt either. The only way he could see to protect her was to stop her before she came any closer to falling in love with him.
As soon as they had finished their meal, Descamps rose before Amanda could get any ideas in her head about spending the day with him.
“I won’t be back again until evening,” he told her briskly. “You’ll have to find some way to occupy yourself today.” Descamps saw Amanda’s face fall at these words, but she nodded bravely.