Lady Arabella's Scandalous Marriage

by Carole Mortimer

  Heaven because she had never known such pleasure as this existed. Hell because she thought she might die if Darius should stop!

  Darius had not meant to move so fast. He had meant to go slowly. To gently introduce Arabella to this intimacy. But, having once lain her upon the bed, he had not been able to resist baring the softness of her thighs and allowing himself to gaze hungrily upon the silkiness of her naked curls. She was so pretty there. So beautiful. Plump and delicious, and just begging to be touched. To be kissed.

  The first rasp of his tongue against her caused her to groan and move restlessly, rhythmically, into that caress. Darius continued until he was plundering her with his tongue—until Arabella hung poised on the edge of release.

  Darius moved his mouth and slid one finger inside her moist heat. Slowly. Oh-so-slowly. Stilling once that finger was fully inside her so that she might accustom herself to how it felt to have her sensitive flesh invaded.

  ‘Please, Darius…!’ Arabella had lost all sense of where or who she was. Darius was her only reality as she felt something pooling deep inside her, building, growing and growing, until it seemed she might explode into a million pieces. ‘Darius, please, I want—I need—’ She groaned in protest as Darius slid that finger out of her, only to moan low in her throat as that first finger was joined by a second. He slowly began to thrust them inside her in a rhythm Arabella’s hips moved up to meet even as Darius’s tongue returned to the swollen nubbin above.

  She bit her bottom lip painfully as she felt a need to cry out, to scream and shout at the top of her lungs as the pleasure built to an impossible degree, taking her higher, ever higher, to a place she had never been before.

  She sat up, her hair wild, eyes even more so, and the eroticism of having Darius look up at her from between her naked thighs was enough to send her over the edge of that pleasure. She cried out in ecstasy.

  Darius ensured that he drew every last vestige of what he was certain was Arabella’s first ever orgasm, long after she had collapsed against the pillow to roll her head from side to side in mindless and uncontrollable pleasure.

  Finally his caresses gentled, became soothing, as Arabella sobbed ever so softly.

  Arabella lay back when Darius finally ceased and moved up beside her, looking for all the world like a wanton, with her hair tangled about her shoulders, one breast bared, and her nightgown thrown up about her waist.

  He frowned as he saw that several tears had escaped from beneath her lashes and now lay wet upon her cheeks. ‘Arabella?’ Darius smoothed those tears away with the tips of his fingers. ‘Did I hurt you after all?’

  She raised long lashes, her eyes a deep unfocused brown. ‘If you did then I believe I wish for you to hurt me in that way every night for the rest of my life!’

  Darius laughed at her complete lack of guile. ‘We have nowhere near finished this night yet.’

  ‘No?’ Her eyes widened with unconcealed interest.

  ‘No,’ he promised huskily. ‘There is still so much more for us to share, Arabella. To explore together.’

  She looked almost shy. ‘I am to be allowed to touch you in the way you just touched me?’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ he assured her with feeling.

  Darius had put his own fierce arousal to the back of his mind as he’d concentrated on giving Arabella pleasure. But it came back with a vengeance now. So much so that Darius doubted he would be able to hold long enough for Arabella to place even one delicate little finger upon his throbbing flesh!

  ‘I—am I still a virgin?’ Uncertainty creased Arabella’s brow.

  Darius sobered as Arabella once again revealed that her bravado of their first evening together had been a fabrication. ‘I am afraid so.’

  ‘Oh. Then—touching me—in that intimate way—?’ Her cheeks were flushed. ‘It did not—it did not—?’

  ‘No,’ he confirmed regretfully. ‘But I promise when the time comes I will endeavour not to hurt you unduly. Do you believe me—?’ Darius broke off, frowning darkly as the sound of shouting could be heard outside in the hallway. ‘What the hell…?’ He sprang lithely from the bed to scowl in the direction of the closed door.

  ‘Fire! Fire!’ The shouts became more audible as someone was heard running past in the hallway outside. ‘The inn is on fire!’

  Arabella sat up abruptly in the bed, her face pale, her eyes wide with fear as she hastily tidied her nightgown before standing up.

  The inn was on fire?

  Chapter Eight

  ‘Do you suppose that everyone managed to get out?’ Arabella asked worriedly some time later, as Darius joined her where stood huddled in the cloak she had managed to gather up before leaving the inn.

  The two of them stood outside the front of the inn, staring up at the blaze that had once been the thatched roof above their bedchambers. The flames were so intense that they lit up the night sky and reflected on the faces of the dozen or so other people who stood gathered together in various states of undress—Arabella’s maid and Darius’s valet amongst them, thank goodness.

  ‘The innkeeper seems to think so,’ Darius replied. ‘There were only ten guests, including our own party, and they are all accounted for. Fortunately we were able to prevent the stables from catching alight too,’ he added grimly.

  Arabella turned to look at Darius, still dressed only in his brocade robe. As were most of the other guests. There simply hadn’t been time for anyone to dress, the fire having already spread to the hallway outside Arabella’s bedchamber by the time Darius threw open the door to see what all the fuss was about. Now, in the light from the fire, it was possible to see that Darius’s face was blackened in several places from where he had assisted the other men in getting the horses out of the stables, before helping to keep the blaze from spreading to the outer buildings.

  ‘That is good news.’ A shiver moved down her spine at the memory of the neighing and snorting of the trapped horses before Darius and several of the other men had managed to go into the stables and lead them out to safety.

  The inn itself was beyond saving, several parts of the roof having already fallen in and so adding to the force of the fire as it blazed unrelentingly. The numbed innkeeper had accepted it was a losing battle too, and he now stood speechlessly beside his wife as the two of them looked up at the flames destroying not only their home but also their livelihood.

  ‘Those poor people have lost everything,’ Arabella murmured emotionally as she saw that loss upon the elderly couple’s faces. ‘And all because someone no doubt allowed a candle to fall onto the floor, or left it burning too close to the curtains.’ She gave a sorrowful shake of her head.

  Yes, Darius reflected grimly, no doubt someone had allowed the fire to start. Deliberately…

  First the carriage accident the night before, and now a fire at the inn where they stayed tonight. Darius was far too aware of the unlikelihood of two such coincidences to accept that they were completely separate or random events.

  If the two were connected, then it would appear that someone had known of his every move these past two days. And that someone had either followed Darius and Arabella to the inn earlier today, or they had already known where the two of them would be staying the night and had acted accordingly.

  Neither explanation was acceptable. The former implied that Darius, too preoccupied by his young wife’s beauty, had been lax in his usual caution of repeatedly checking to see whether or not they were being followed. The latter implied that one of his own servants had been loose-tongued concerning the movements of their employer. Or possibly been persuaded to be so by monetary reward. The fact that Darius had placed two of his grooms on guard outside the inn after their arrival yesterday only made the starting of this fire all the more suspect.

  His past eight years as an agent for the crown had evoked a cynicism inside Darius that had taught him to trust no one. Not even those closest to him. Especially those closest to him!

  Darius’s gaze was icy-hard as he looked down
at Arabella. ‘Admittedly it will take time, but rest assured I will ensure that the landlord has enough funds to rebuild. A gift in honour of our marriage,’ he added, as he saw the way Arabella had turned to him in surprise at his apparent largesse.

  It was only fair to make reparation to the innkeeper, as Darius suspected that the inn had been burnt down with the intention of trapping him inside. Which might so easily have become the case, seeing as he had allowed himself to become so engrossed in Arabella’s magnificent charms…

  ‘That is—very generous of you, Darius.’ Arabella laid a hand warmly upon his arm.

  He gave a hard smile. ‘No doubt I have inhaled too much smoke, and will come to my senses come the dawn.’

  She gave him a chiding look. ‘I do not believe you.’

  ‘But talking of the dawn…Bearing in mind that we now have no inn in which to spend the night, and no clothes in which to dress ourselves come morning, I have ordered that both carriages be made ready so that we might all continue with our journey to Winton Hall tonight,’ Darius informed her.

  Arabella’s eyes widened. ‘Tonight? But—’

  ‘You would rather sleep in the straw in the stables, perhaps?’ Darius asked. ‘With the other survivors of the fire? Along with any number of vermin—and I do not allude to the human kind!—nibbling at your feet in the darkness?’

  Arabella repressed a shiver at the thought of the rats and mice, let alone the fleas and lice, that probably inhabited the stables. ‘No, of course I would not prefer to do that. It is only—what will the servants at Winton Hall think when, come morning, the Duke and Duchess of Carlyne arrive clothed only in their night robes?’

  Darius gave a humourless laugh. ‘Personally, I do not give a damn what they think!’

  No, Arabella was sure Darius would not care a jot for the censure or otherwise of his servants. He had made it more than obvious during their short acquaintance that he cared little for anyone’s opinion concerning his behaviour. Including her own! But Arabella, having had such wonderful imaginings of arriving at Winton Hall as its new duchess, could not help but feel dismayed at the thought of this unorthodox introduction as the new mistress to the servants.

  ‘Or perhaps you had imagined that we might enjoy spending a night in the stables, where we might finish what we started earlier?’ Darius’s eyes glittered down at her mockingly.

  Arabella recoiled at his harsh words, the colour first burning in her cheeks and then as rapidly fading, to leave her face pale and her eyes a dark and haunted brown. ‘Darius…?’

  ‘Yes?’ he snapped.

  Arabella stared up at him. Was this really the man who had made love to her so gently such a short time ago? Who had carefully and tenderly brought her to such a state of ecstasy that she had lost all control of her senses?

  She gave an inward shudder at the mere thought of allowing this cold and cruelly taunting man such liberties with her. ‘I assure you I thought no such thing.’

  ‘No?’

  ‘No!’ Whatever kindness Arabella might have allotted to Darius earlier, in his concern for the innkeeper, was completely erased by his reminder of how easily she had succumbed to his kisses and caresses.

  ‘Have you been thinking that perhaps I am responsible for starting this fire?’ he asked roughly.

  ‘I will not even deign to answer such nonsense!’ Once again the idea was a ridiculous one; Darius could as easily have perished in the fire as anyone else. Including Arabella. Her chin rose proudly. ‘I am ready to leave whenever you are.’

  His mouth thinned. ‘That would be now.’

  ‘Very well.’ Arabella gave a haughty inclination of her head before turning on slippered feet and walking in the direction of the stables situated at the back of the inn.

  Darius didn’t move for several seconds, but instead stared grimly up at the fire as it continued to rage unchecked.

  He realised he’d been overly harsh with Arabella just now, but after this second near miss in as many days Darius had been in no mood to coax and cajole her into continuing with their journey to Winton Hall tonight. They had to leave. They had to reach the relative safety of Winton Hall, where Darius would hopefully be able to put more stringent security in place.

  As added security he also intended sending one of the grooms back to London with news of this second accident. Better by far that Bancroft was alerted now to the continuing danger rather than informed later of Darius’s and Arabella’s demise.

  For as surely as Darius knew this inn would be completely razed to the ground by morning, he had no doubt that it had been intended that he and Arabella should burn along with it.

  ‘I shall be busy about estate business for the rest of the day,’ Darius informed Arabella as he prepared to take his leave after personally escorting her to the bedchamber at Winton Hall that adjoined his own. ‘I suggest you use the time to rest and recover after your ordeal.’

  To Arabella’s relief there had been few witnesses to the arrival of the dishevelled Duke and Duchess of Carlyne when they’d reached their home some five hours later; most of the household servants had been still abed, and the few maids who were already up and about had been too busy cleaning and lighting the fires in preparation for the arrival of their master and mistress to be aware that Arabella and Darius had already arrived and gone straight upstairs to their bedchambers on the third floor of the house.

  It had been an ignominious arrival to say the least. In all her imaginings of this day Arabella had envisaged herself and Darius arriving with all due ceremony and the servants lined up outside the house so that they might wait in turn to be introduced to their new mistress.

  Instead of which the carriage had barely come to a halt and the door been opened before Darius had alighted onto the gravel driveway, leaving one of the grooms to help Arabella down. He had marched up the steps at the front of the red-stone mansion and thrown open the huge front door before striding into the marbled hallway. Somehow managing to display the same arrogance as if he were dressed in elegant finery instead of clothed only in his brocade nightrobe!

  Having suffered through a wakeful journey, with the silence between herself and Darius of an awkward rather than a restful kind, Arabella had felt chilled both inside and out. She had pulled her cloak more firmly about her and chosen to follow her husband at a more leisurely pace, taking the time to look at the magnificent proportions of what was to be her new home.

  The main house of red stone stood four storeys high, with wings of similar proportions curving the driveway on either side, and so giving the appearance of welcoming elegance.

  There was no evidence of that same welcome on the present Duke of Carlyne’s handsome face now, though, as he looked down his arrogant nose at his wife!

  Nor did Arabella know to which ordeal Darius referred. That of having their earlier lovemaking interrupted so decisively? Or that of the fire itself, including his later questioning as to whether she had believed him responsible for it? Or perhaps he meant the cold and awkward carriage ride that had followed?

  Whichever it was, Arabella was not disposed at that moment to spend any more time in her husband’s company, and her eyes snapped angrily as she glared at him. ‘If you will observe, Darius, you will note that your own appearance is no less…disreputable than my own.’

  Darius was well aware of Arabella’s displeasure with him—both with his behaviour earlier before they’d left the inn and with his preoccupation during the long and tedious hours of the carriage ride that had completed their journey to Winton Hall.

  He wished it could be different. Wished that he might confide in Arabella about his own worries concerning both the carriage accident two days ago and the fire the previous night. But the oath he had made eight years ago dictated that he could not do so, which left him to continue his immediate enquiries without alerting Arabella to what he was doing.

  Darius’s first task of the morning, once he had bathed and dressed, would be to question all the servants who had
accompanied them yesterday. From the grooms to Arabella’s maid and his own valet. The thought that one of the servants he trusted, or possibly Arabella’s own maid, might have been indiscreet, whether accidentally or on purpose, was highly distasteful to Darius. But the possibility had to be followed up before it could be discarded as an option.

  ‘Perhaps so, Arabella,’ he allowed. ‘But I am no doubt more accustomed than you are to a night in which I have had little or no sleep.’

  Colour blazed in Arabella’s cheeks and her hands tightened into fists at her sides. ‘You would boast to me of such things?’

  Darius raised an eyebrow at the conclusion she’d jumped to, and couldn’t help but tease her for thinking that he was mocking her by referring to his stamina as a lover! ‘I wonder, can it be called boasting when one is only stating the truth?’

  Arabella was so tired, so disheartened by the way things now stood between them, that she feared at any moment she might burst into loud and humiliating tears. ‘I think it best if you leave me now, Darius,’ she said fiercely. ‘Before one or both of us says something we might later regret.’

  He sighed heavily. ‘I assure you, Arabella, I rarely have reason to feel regret for anything I do or say.’

  Unlike Arabella, who now deeply regretted the way she had responded to Darius’s kisses and caresses the night before! He was a self-confessed rake. A womaniser. A man who cared for no one and had no desire that anyone should care for him.

  A fact that Arabella would do well to remember…

  The worst thing she could possibly do was to fall in love with her own husband!

  ‘Then you should consider yourself fortunate amongst men, Darius.’ Her tone was sweetly insincere.

  ‘Oh, I do, Arabella,’ he drawled. ‘I most certainly do!’

  Arabella did not at all care for the speculative gleam she could see in those sky-blue eyes. ‘I will wish you good day.’ She placed a hand delicately against her lips as she gave a deliberate and dismissive yawn.