HAVING NEVER INDULGED in the amorous activities that her late husband had favored, Isabella had been completely unaware of how awkward a house party could be for romantic dalliance, at least for the host and hostess. She was aching for Marcus in a way that was both unashamed and unappeased. Every time they managed to steal a kiss or planned to be alone together, Freddie or Alistair or Pen would appear from the library or the drawing room or their bed chamber and engage them in conversation, as though completely unaware of the blistering atmosphere between their hosts, who wanted nothing more than to be permitted to enjoy their honeymoon alone. None of their houseguests had responded to Isabella’s heavy hints about when they might be thinking of returning to Town, and it seemed that there was no time when she and Marcus could snatch some time to talk, let alone make love.
“Remind me never to invite any more guests whatsoever to Salterton,” Isabella said to Marcus when they met in brief solitude at breakfast. “Pen and Alistair fell out yesterday and are at daggers drawn, while Freddie appears to be compiling an intimate knowledge of the Salterton alehouses, and you and I…” She paused.
“Never have any time alone,” Marcus finished. He put out a hand and touched her wrist lightly. “Isabella, if we could gain a little time alone—”
“Yes?” Isabella looked up nervously into his dark eyes. She could see the same thwarted desire there as she felt inside. She moistened her lips. “If we could be alone?”
“I thought we could—” Marcus broke off as the door to the breakfast room opened to admit Freddie Standish, followed by a footman with a tray of eggs, toast and coffee. Isabella could have wept at the interruption.
“Good morning, Freddie,” she snapped. “Do you have any plans for the day?”
Freddie looked at her out of the corner of his eye. His expression was that of a dog that knows it is out of favor without really understanding why.
“Morning, Bella,” he said. “Thought I might go to the harbor for some fresh air.”
“Again!” Isabella marveled. “The view from the alehouse is very fine, is it not?”
Freddie flushed and slunk into his seat. The door opened again. Pen came in, followed by Alistair. Neither of them were looking at one another or speaking to one another. Isabella sighed irritably as they took seats as far away from one another as possible.
“Good morning,” she said. “You are both as cheerful as a wet Sunday.”
Marcus got up very deliberately and brought her the teapot, ignoring the footman who stepped forward to help.
“I want you to come riding with me after breakfast,” he whispered in her ear. “I have had enough of this. We are going down to Kinvara Cove alone and I am going to seduce you.”
Isabella swallowed her toast the wrong way and almost choked. Through streaming eyes she could see Marcus sitting back down at his end of the table, looking extremely pleased with himself. She shifted in her chair.
“Are you quite well this morning, my dear?” Marcus asked innocently. “You look a little flushed.”
“It is very hot in here,” Isabella said, fanning herself ostentatiously. “Perhaps you could open a window.”
It was a tactical error and she realized it almost at once. Once again the footman stepped forward to help, but Marcus sprang up before him. The window was at her end of the dining table and on his way back Marcus bent and spoke in her ear again.
“I will strip you naked and take you into the water with me.”
Isabella jumped in her chair and spilled her tea. She felt so hot she thought she was going to explode. There was an ache in her stomach and a patter of excitement in her throat and she could not look at Marcus for fear that a fresh wave of sensual heat would burst in her chest.
“More toast, my love?” Marcus inquired, as he seated himself again.
“No, thank you,” Isabella managed to say. “I think you have already done quite enough for me, my dear.”
Marcus smiled. “I have barely started, my sweet.”
Pen was looking curious. Alistair cleared his throat and reached for the morning paper. Isabella fixed her eyes on her plate and tried to ignore both Marcus and the sharp desire that possessed her body.
“Backley,” Marcus said to the footman, “please take this note to Lady Stockhaven.”
He had torn a piece from the top of the newspaper, scribbled on it and now folded it and placed it on the footman’s silver tray. The servant trod ponderously around the table and proffered the tray to Isabella. She shot Marcus a look of profound suspicion.
“Take it, my love,” Marcus encouraged.
Isabella took the folded piece of paper and put it in her pocket. Marcus looked disappointed.
“What do you plan to do today, Bella?” Pen asked brightly. “I thought that we could go to the circulating library.”
“I have a far more exciting day planned for your sister,” Marcus said, before Isabella could speak. “We are to ride about the estate together.”
“Splendid idea!” Alistair said. “Mind if I come with you?”
“Yes, I do mind,” Marcus said. “You do not care to ride, remember?”
Alistair looked from Marcus to Isabella. “Of course,” he murmured. “I had forgotten that I did not enjoy riding.”
“Well, I consider it most thoughtless of you to neglect your guests,” Pen grumbled. “After all, you did invite us here.”
“I do not recall that we did,” Isabella said. She threw down her napkin. “Excuse me.”
She looked at Marcus, who gave her a wicked smile. She met it with a challenge in her eyes. “I shall be ready directly,” she said.
“I look forward to it,” Marcus murmured.
Out in the hall, Isabella could not resist grabbing the note from her pocket and reading it. She unfolded it with shaking fingers.
We shall lie naked on the rocks in the sun.
Isabella gulped and almost dropped the piece of paper. The housemaid who was polishing the stairs looked at her with curious eyes. The dining-room door opened and Marcus came out. His gaze went from Isabella’s flushed face to the note in her hand and he raised his brows.
“Not another word, Marcus,” Isabella said softly, “or I shall make you suffer for it. I am already feeling far more excited than is appropriate for breakfast time.”
She saw his eyes widen as he took her meaning and then the sensual smile curved his lips again and she sped away up the stairs with a light step to prepare for her seduction.
CHAPTER TWENTY
IN THE EVENT, IT WAS NOT at all as Isabella had imagined. By the time that they reached the seclusion of Kinvara Cove and settled the horses in the old stone shelter on the foreshore, they had been obliged to stop more than five times to speak with tenants and acquaintances. All thoughts of torrid seduction had fled from Isabella’s mind to be replaced by the problems of low milk yields, poor grazing and broken fences.
“I had no notion that Salterton estate was in such a poor way,” she said a little despondently, taking Marcus’s hand to climb over the rocks that cradled the bay.
“It will take a deal of work to put it all to rights.”
And a deal of money. She did not say it but she thought it and looked sideways at Marcus to see if he was thinking of it too. She knew that she had no right to ask him to invest in Salterton when he had his own estates to consider, but she hoped that he would do his best for the place. Perhaps he planned to put a tenant in. Her heart sank a little at the prospect. She loved Salterton and wanted to settle here, but she knew that Marcus would not necessarily feel the same way. They needed to discuss the matter.
Marcus picked up the saddlebag and jumped down onto the beach.
“I have been working this week past on the estate records,” he said, “and making the rounds to see the tenants. I have been meaning to speak of it to you. Perhaps later…” He smiled at her. “For now we could merely enjoy the day.”
Isabella nodded. The sky was an arc of blue above her head and she coul
d feel the sand hot beneath her feet. The light was dazzling. She put up a hand to shade her eyes.
“We came here once that last summer at Salterton,” Marcus said. “Do you remember, Bella?”
Isabella wondered how he could imagine that she would forget. Generally she and Marcus had not been much in company together, for Lady Standish had done all she could to frighten ineligible suitors away from her daughter. On that occasion, however, one of Marcus’s navy colleagues had put together a boating party and because there was a young marquis among their number, Lady Standish had been pleased to agree. Both India and Isabella had attended. The party had been lively and fun, although India had sat a little apart, staring at the sea and had not allowed herself to be drawn much into conversation. Isabella remembered that it had been a hot day like this one. But perhaps the heat and excitement then had come from within her, for she had known that not by a flicker of a glance, or a word, or a gesture could she reveal her intimacy with Marcus. They had stayed apart, while watching each other the whole time. She had been supremely conscious of him and of the fact that he was aware of her, too, and she had known that later he would come to her in the darkened summerhouse and then all their pent-up passion and longing would explode between them.
Now it felt quite different. For all her advanced age and her increased experience, she felt shy, and a little awkward. To cover her nervousness she reached for the saddlebag, took the stone bottle of apple cordial from inside, unstoppered it and tilted it to her lips. Her hand was shaking slightly. She spilled some of the liquid and it ran down over her chin.
Marcus was watching her, a smile in his eyes. His hand closed over hers, taking the bottle from her and setting it down as she wiped her sleeve along her chin a little self-consciously.
“There is no need to be afraid, Bella,” he said. “We need do nothing you do not want.”
Isabella fixed her gaze on the stone bottle resting in the sand. She was very conscious of the warmth and strength of Marcus’s hand on hers.
“It is not so much what I do or do not want, Marcus,” she said, “but more that with all that has happened between us, I find I am rather anxious.”
Marcus raised his hand to tilt her chin up. “I understand.” He smiled wryly. “Such a complicated build-up that one wonders if we can possibly live up to the promise.”
Isabella leaned into the curve of his shoulder. It felt wonderfully reassuring and safe. “Precisely,” she said. She rested her head against him. “I like this, Marcus. This is how it should be.”
“Yes.” Marcus bent his head and pressed a soft kiss against her jaw. For a moment, Isabella was afraid that he might push too hard for what he wanted, but when his lips found hers, their touch was infinitely gentle and tender and she relaxed into the kiss.
“You taste of apples and sea air,” Marcus murmured. The tip of his tongue touched hers, sliding along the inside of her lower lip, making her senses leap. She turned more fully toward him, wanting the kiss to deepen, but he was withdrawing from her and she almost groaned with frustration.
“Let’s swim,” he said. “It is such a beautiful day.”
He stood up. He had already removed his jacket and loosened his cravat. Isabella averted her gaze as he started to pull his shirt over his head. The sun struck shafts of heat through her straw bonnet and made her cheeks feel hotter than ever.
“Bella?” Marcus sounded quizzical. “Is there a particular reason as to why you are staring so intently at that boulder that you are like to get a crick in your neck?”
Isabella looked at him. It was a mistake. She had not seen him half-naked in the daylight for a long time, if not ever. The muscled shoulders, the broad expanse of chest, the flat abdomen…He was beautiful. She gulped, feeling hotter still, as though the sun was shining for her alone.
“I am affording you the privacy you require to change for bathing,” she said.
Marcus sat down on a rock and pulled off his boots. “There is no need for that. We are married, after all. Are you not to join me?”
“I do not know,” Isabella said rapidly, “this is a little…difficult.”
Marcus laughed. The sunlight glistened on his skin, turning it a delicious, smooth golden color. Isabella’s fingers itched to touch him. She wanted to slide her hands over his chest and feel his warmth, to explore the contrast of hard muscle and satiny skin, to feel his heart beating under her hand. She wanted to taste him and smell the salty male scent of him. She was radiating so much heat now that her clothes felt sticky and damp and her face was as bright as a beacon. The sea looked remarkably tempting and cool.
Marcus’s hands went to the fastening of his trousers. Isabella made a faint protesting squeak. Marcus looked at her.
“Too much sun, Bella?”
“Too much of you displaying yourself so blatantly!” Isabella said. “Marcus—”
But it was too late. With a fluid movement, Marcus stripped off his breeches and underclothes and stood before her in all his glorious masculinity.
He was outrageous, virile and unashamed.
Isabella was not accustomed to men stripping in front of her. She stared, torn between shock and fascination.
“You look like a horrified virgin,” Marcus said cheerfully. “How interesting.”
Isabella blushed to the roots of her hair. Her first husband had never stood before her in such unabashed nudity and Ernest’s anatomy, bereft of clothing, had not been a pretty sight. If he had stripped before her, Isabella was sure that quite a few stomachs would have turned, rather than heads.
“I assure you that I have never known anyone who comported himself in such a manner,” she added faintly.
Marcus grinned. “So what do you think?” he asked boyishly
Isabella reflected that were she to tell him what she really thought, she would probably be contravening several of the Salterton bylaws.
“I think you are quite shameless,” she said.
Marcus laughed and stepped closer. Isabella tried to find somewhere innocuous to look and failed completely. She was quite relieved when Marcus drew her to her feet and she was on a level with his chest rather than any other parts of him.
“Remember what I told you at breakfast,” he said softly. “I am going to strip you naked and take you into the water with me.”
Isabella made a faint, protesting squeak but his fingers had already moved to the buttons of her riding jacket, slipping them from their fastenings. The smaller buttons of her shirt gave him more trouble, but he did not hurry. Nor did he stop to kiss her. He worked intently and the look in his eyes was no less concentrated. Isabella found it extraordinarily arousing. She stood obediently still beneath his hands, held in a spell.
The jacket crumpled to the ground. The shirt followed it. The cool air raised goose pimples on Isabella’s bare shoulders and arms. Her skin prickled for Marcus’s touch. She wanted to beg him to hurry. She bit her lip hard.
There was a tug of material at her waist; something gave and the skirt slid down to pool at her feet. Suddenly impatient, she stepped out of it, kicked her boots off and practically tore off her remaining clothes. The old, wild spirit filled her and she threw Marcus one provocative glance over her shoulder before running into the sea.
The cold shock of the water made her squeal aloud. A flock of seabirds rose from the rocks and soared on the breeze, their cries echoing hers.
There was a splash as Marcus surfaced beside her, the water running from his shoulders in sun-streaked rivulets. He grabbed her about the waist with both hands and fitted her against him, hard wet muscle against her softer contours. She gasped again at the contact of their bodies and then his mouth was on hers with scorching hunger. She felt the shudder that shook him as their bodies pressed closer, demanding satisfaction. Then his hand sought her breast and she jumped in dazed surprise at the intimacy of the caress and opened her eyes.
There were tiny drops of water on Marcus’s eyelashes and the skin of his face and shoulders was smoo
th and bronzed in the sun. Isabella ran her hands over him with something approaching awe and saw the surge of pure lust in his darkened eyes. With a groan he drew her back to him again, kissing her with an almost desperate longing. She writhed and twisted in his arms, the lap of the water about them and the friction of their bare bodies almost too much to bear, and then, when she thought he would take her there and then in the water, she broke away.
“I told you I would make you suffer,” she said, and dived away from him through the aquamarine water, kicking out for the rocks and hauling herself up onto their hot surface. When she turned to look back, what she saw made her laugh aloud. Marcus was shaking his head and looking thoroughly dazed and the look he shot her was more than half-unfriendly.
“Minx!” He was pulling himself out onto the rocks beside her, reaching for her. Isabella rolled out of his grasp. The sun was hot and the air soft and it felt wonderful on her naked skin and she did not want to be caught. Not quite yet.
She scrambled to her feet. Marcus’s hand snaked out and caught her ankle. He cushioned her fall with his body, then rolled her beneath him, pinning her down. His mouth swooped down, imprisoning hers. Isabella wriggled. He released one wrist but only to capture her breast and raw pleasure surged through her as he lowered his head to her nipple. The fire scorched through her body but she twisted away.
“Not here.”
“Where, then?” Marcus’s voice was harsh.
She stared into his eyes. “The summerhouse.”
His bronzed hand still rested against the whiteness of her skin and the sight of it made her heart beat frantically. He withdrew slowly.
“We had better run then,” he said.
Isabella did. She ran back down to the beach where she donned her skirt and jacket haphazardly, pushing her wet hair back from her face. It was only a short distance along the cliff path to the gardens, but if they met anyone it would appear that they had run mad. Isabella was almost certain that they had.
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