Deceived

by Nicola Cornick

“The closer we became, the more it preyed on my mind that I had kept this secret from you. I was afraid to tell you in case it destroyed what we were building between us. I could not live with this secret between us and I hope you can understand.”

  She turned away. Through the library window she could see the summerhouse, its edges blurring through her tears. She waited for Marcus to leave.

  “Isabella,” Marcus said.

  Isabella turned.

  He grabbed her so suddenly that she gasped for breath.

  “Marcus!”

  “Bella.” Marcus’s grip was painfully tight as he held her to him. “I understand. I wish—” He took a breath. “I only wish that I had always been there with you when you needed me. But I am here now.” He held her a little away from him and her heart soared at the fierce light in his eyes. “I am here and I shall never leave you and you do not need to be afraid ever again.”

  Isabella gave a little sob and buried her face against his chest.

  There was a knock on the door.

  “Tea, my lord,” Belton said lugubriously. He placed the tray on the table, fussily moving the plans aside, and completely ignoring the odd position in which he found his employers. “Do you wish for cake, my lord, my lady?”

  “No, thank you,” Marcus said. “We wish for champagne, but perhaps not until dinner.”

  He turned back to Isabella. “I love you,” he said. He took a deep breath. “Do you remember when I gave you my signet ring at our marriage service?”

  Isabella nodded mutely. She could not have spoken had she tried.

  “I loved you even then,” Marcus said. “I wanted to protect you.” He took her hand and looked ruefully at the plain gold band that had replaced his signet ring. “You were mine and I wanted you to wear my ring because I could not go with you.” He smiled into her eyes. “You said that you were tired of struggling. You do not need to struggle alone any longer, Bella.”

  Isabella smiled through her tears. “I love you, too, Marcus.”

  “I am sorry,” Marcus said, “that it has taken me so long to understand how much I love you.”

  Isabella looked up to see Belton waiting stiffly to be dismissed, an expression on his face that suggested he had overheard some shocking conversations in his time, but never had he been unfortunate enough to eavesdrop on a declaration of love from his employer.

  “Do you require anything else, my lady?” he asked stiffly.

  “No, thank you, Belton,” Isabella said. “Other than to be undisturbed.”

  She thought she saw a flicker of a smile on the butler’s lips.

  “Certainly, my lady,” he said.

  Isabella burrowed closer to the warmth of Marcus’s body and felt his arms tighten about her and felt a violent surge of elation that they had not only survived but had also found each other again. Marcus pressed his lips to her hair and they stood, bound together tightly, for a very long time. When Marcus finally he released her, they were both slightly breathless.

  “Has Belton gone?” Marcus inquired.

  Isabella looked round. “I think so. I think he may even have locked the door.”

  “Thank goodness.” Marcus was starting to undo the little row of buttons at the neck of her dress. He drew her bodice apart and started to kiss the pale, freckled skin that he was exposing. Isabella caught her breath.

  “Marcus, we cannot do this here.”

  “Why not?” Marcus was tugging on the laces that held her chemise together.

  Isabella gasped. “Because…”

  The laces fluttered apart and Marcus slid a deft hand inside, palm against her breast. Isabella felt her knees weaken. She grabbed his arms.

  “We should be more responsible now,” Isabella said. “We have been married a whole two months.”

  Marcus sat down in the big armchair and pulled her down on top of him in a tumble of lace. “We can be very responsible. We can be responsible for choosing whether to do it on the table or in this chair, or on the lovely soft rug on the floor….”

  Isabella gasped. “Not the table! You will crush all the architect’s plans!”

  “On the floor then,” Marcus said. He pulled her down with him on the rug before the hearth. He pushed her bodice aside and kissed the curve of her shoulder and she trembled, catching her breath.

  “I love you,” he said. He moved her hair aside and stroked his tongue delicately down the line of her neck. “You are mine. You were from the beginning and now you always will be.”

  He rolled over, trapping her beneath him, and her body moved against his with instinctive need. His breath sent the shivers coursing along her nerves. He framed her face in his hands.

  “Do you love me, Bella?”

  “Yes,” Isabella whispered. “I told you.”

  “Tell me again. I need to hear it many, many times.”

  Isabella grabbed his shirt and pulled him close. “Only if you tell me, too.”

  His mouth swooped down to take hers.

  “I love you,” he said when he drew away briefly for breath.

  With one hand he brushed the shreds of the bodice away from her breasts.

  “I love you,” she said, as his mouth ravished the tender skin he had exposed.

  “Always.” His mouth came back to hers, courting and demanding a response at the same time. He eased away for a moment, unfastening his pantaloons with feverish haste.

  The irrepressible laughter bubbled in Isabella’s throat. “Marcus, making love to a lady with your boots on is not the behavior of a gentleman—”

  Her words ended in a gasp as he pulled up her chemise and his hand lingered on the bare skin at the top of her silk stockings.

  “Then I am no gentleman.” He thrust into her. “But I do love you.”

  “Oh!” Isabella arched, felt him inside her, slick and hard. Her stomach muscles shivered, contracting. The shimmering heat built within her. She grabbed his shoulders, scoring her fingers on the material of his shirt.

  “Marcus, the windows—”

  “Yes.”

  “And the servants—”

  “Yes.”

  “Anyone could see us—”

  Marcus moved faster, deep inside her. Isabella’s head spun. “When,” she gasped, feeling the sensations build, the tantalizing ripple of desire along her skin, “when will you stop being so outrageous?”

  “Never.” With one final thrust, Marcus took her over the edge, to fall helplessly and blissfully together in a tumble of pure sensual pleasure. He buried his face in her damp shoulder. “But I do love you.”

  Later, curled up together in the chair with a cold cup of tea, Isabella told him about Pen finding the letter, and about Freddie—and India.

  “The extraordinary thing,” she said, “was that it was India who told Warwick about Freddie’s weaknesses in the first place and gave him the lever he needed to get him in his power. I am sure she meant no harm by it, but she was his undoing.” She rubbed her cheek against Marcus’s shoulder and settled deeper into the curve of his arm. “Freddie told me that he had loved India since they were children. He never knew that it was Warwick who had been her lover.” She paused. “Oh, he knew that India had had a lover and child, for she confided in him. He was the only one she ever told. But she never told him Warwick’s name and he never asked. They worked together for years and never knew.”

  Marcus pressed a kiss to her brow.

  “The letter that Pen found,” he said. “Did you mind that the letter was not from me to you?” He sighed. “I wish I had pushed harder to find you, Bella, to talk to you. I loved you so much. I would have run away with you, married or free….”

  Isabella smiled. “No more regrets, Marcus. We do not need them now.” She touched a finger to his lips to silence him. “Nor do I need the affirmation of a letter,” she said. “Not when I have you.”

  And she turned once more into the warmth of his embrace.

  What news! A certain vivacious princess, whose lack of enthusiasm fo
r the amorous skills of Englishmen was reported in this paper last year, has found eternal bliss with her very own Adonis in the form of the Earl of S. It is to be assumed that the earl was successful in changing the lady’s mind on the subject of Englishmen being the very worst lovers in the world, for apparently the couple are expecting their first child in a few months’ time. What alacrity! What enthusiasm! We wish the earl and countess a very happy and amorous future together.

  —The Gentlemen’s Athenian Mercury, May 18, 1817

  All the characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author, and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all the incidents are pure invention.

  All Rights Reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Enterprises II B.V./S.à.r.l. The text of this publication or any part thereof may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, storage in an information retrieval system, or otherwise, without the written permission of the publisher.

  This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the prior consent of the publisher in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  MIRA is a registered trademark of Harlequin Enterprises Limited, used under licence.

  Published in Great Britain 2006

  MIRA Books, Eton House, 18-24 Paradise Road,

  Richmond, Surrey, TW9 1SR

  © Nicola Cornick 2006

  ISBN 9781408954294