Lady Arabella's Scandalous Marriage

by Carole Mortimer

  From the way the footman was now squirming uncomfortably at the realisation he might have said too much, Arabella felt sure she would receive no further helpful information from him. ‘That will be all, thank you, Holmes.’ She gave the man her most gracious smile along with the dismissal; all those years as Hawk’s sister certainly stood her in good stead for her role as Darius’s duchess!

  So a guest had arrived yesterday evening? Arabella mused once left alone. Someone important enough for Westlake to dare to disturb his employer, despite Darius’s instructions for him not to do so unless it was a dire emergency.

  Who could that visitor be?

  And what was so urgent about their visit that Darius was still privately ensconced with them hours after their arrival?

  ‘You have received no further word as to his whereabouts?’ Darius’s expression was grimly determined as he attempted to thrust his sword under the other man’s guarded pose.

  ‘We only know he left the house in Paris some days ago.’ His opponent parried the thrust to make a lunge himself. A parry that Darius easily sidestepped. ‘A coincidence, certainly. But his disappearance does not preclude him being the one responsible for the things that have happened these past few days, either.’

  The two men had stripped down to their shirts, pantaloons and boots an hour ago in order to practise their swordplay, and Darius could now feel the material of his shirt clinging damply to his back from the exertion. ‘Surely the loose wheel on my own carriage three days ago is too reminiscent of similar tampering with another carriage seven months ago for the two to be unrelated?’

  ‘What of the fire at the coaching inn?’

  ‘Perhaps a new innovation on his part?’

  ‘I believe you once claimed that he did not have an original thought in his head?’ the other man drawled dryly. ‘Besides, Helena Jourdan is far more likely to be the one who wishes to do you harm,’ the other man insisted as Darius would have argued the point.

  Darius scowled. ‘I should have wrung the woman’s neck when I had the chance!’

  ‘That would certainly have been one way of resolving a—a delicate situation,’ the younger man acknowledged ruefully.

  ‘Instead of which I now possibly have a vengeful woman attempting to harm not only myself but also my wife,’ Darius frowned his displeasure.

  ‘Talking of your wife…’

  ‘Which we were not,’ Darius bit out warningly, temporarily losing his concentration as he allowed his mind to wander to thoughts of his young wife, and the memory of how beautiful she had looked naked in the firelight the previous evening. That lapse was enough to allow the other man to lunge and press the tip of his sword directly over Darius’s heart. ‘Oh, to hell with this!’ He threw his sword disgustedly onto the chaise and began restlessly pacing the room. ‘How can I concentrate on swordplay when I have some madman—?’

  ‘Or woman.’

  Darius paused long enough in his pacing to shoot the other man an impatient glare. ‘Or woman,’ he allowed irritably, ‘attempting to do away with me the moment I step outside the damned house!’

  ‘You are recently married, Darius, and as such have every reason not to step outside the house.’ The younger man gave him a mocking glance as he threw himself into one of the armchairs.

  Arabella had left the breakfast room a few minutes ago to walk outside onto the terrace with the intention of circling the house and joining her husband and his guest in the Blue Salon. Instead, shivering with the cold, she had come to an abrupt halt as she realised the two men were talking loudly enough for her to be able to hear their discussion. And what a discussion!

  Firstly the coach accident three days ago had apparently not been an accident after all! And then the fire at the inn. Also no accident…?

  Arabella had easily recognised Darius’s visitor when she peeped in at the window. Lord Gideon Grayson. Tall, dark, and very handsome, a man Arabella knew to be a close friend and peer of her disreputable youngest brother Sebastian. He had also been one of Darius’s guests at their wedding.

  Although what possible business it could be of the rakish Lord Grayson if some woman were supposedly attempting to harm Darius or herself was totally beyond her.

  ‘A vengeful woman’, Darius had called her.

  Possibly a discarded lover of Darius’s?

  It certainly sounded a possibility!

  Recalling the intensity of their own lovemaking the evening before, Arabella felt herself bristle inside just at the thought of Darius being so recently intimately involved with another woman. A woman who obviously felt strongly enough about Darius having ended their affair to attempt to do him harm.

  Dear Lord—could the ‘he’ Darius and Lord Grayson had earlier referred to so scathingly possibly be the woman’s cuckolded and jealous husband…?

  Arabella’s previous anger with Darius returned in force, and she no longer hesitated outside on the terrace but instead opened one of the French doors to step decisively into the Blue Salon.

  To say that the two men were surprised by her sudden entrance would be understating the matter. Darius’s already grim expression became even grimmer, his eyes turning a steely blue, and in contrast, Lord Gideon Grayson’s handsome face was uncomfortably flushed as he jumped awkwardly to his feet to offer an awkward bow at the same time as he attempted to refasten the buttons at the throat of his shirt.

  ‘Good morning, gentlemen.’ Arabella gave them a sweetly insincere smile. ‘I trust I am not interrupting anything of importance?’

  Darius narrowed chilling blue eyes on his wife, not fooled for a moment by the lightness of Arabella’s greeting, nor distracted by her beauty in a pale lemon gown. The challenging glint in her deep brown eyes and the flush to her cheeks were more than enough to alert him as to the true state of Arabella’s emotions: she was extremely angry about something.

  The fact that Darius had felt unable to share her bed the night before could be the reason for that. Conversely, if Arabella had chanced to hear any of his recent conversation with Gray then she might just have taken exception to something she had overheard…

  Exactly how long had Arabella been standing outside on the terrace?

  ‘Not at all,’ he answered her smoothly, and he crossed the room to draw her to his side by placing a possessive arm about the slenderness of her waist. ‘Is the November air not a little cold for you to be outside dressed only in your gown?’ Darius could feel the chill of her body through the gown as he anchored her to his side.

  Brown eyes gazed up at Darius in what he was sure was deceptive innocence. ‘I stepped outside to take some air before breakfast and decided to come and investigate when I heard the two of you talking in here.’

  He nodded abruptly. ‘Lord Grayson arrived late yesterday evening.’

  Arabella turned to Lord Grayson. ‘You rode all the way from London in one day, My Lord?’

  Grayson flushed. ‘I—’

  ‘What does it matter how and when Gray travelled here, Arabella?’ Darius cut in. ‘He arrived yesterday evening, and we stayed up far too late last night drinking brandy together.’

  Too much information, Darius, he inwardly rebuked himself as he saw the frown darken Arabella’s brow. He’d just broken one of the principal rules of being a spy: reveal only as much information as was absolutely necessary. It was not necessary that Arabella be told what he and Gray had been doing last night.

  ‘As you can see by our current state of undress, you have caught us practising our swordsmanship in order to shake off the effects of imbibing too much of that brandy. Poor Grayson is quite mortified with embarrassment,’ he added mockingly as the other man still fumbled in refastening his shirt.

  ‘Please do not concern yourself, Lord Grayson,’ Arabella assured him dryly, and she neatly extricated herself from the curve of Darius’s arm to step further into the room. ‘My older brothers never felt any qualms about appearing in front of me dressed only in their breeches and shirt.’

  �
�You are too kind, Your Grace,’ Grayson accepted lamely.

  ‘Will you be joining us for breakfast, Lord Grayson, or are you in a hurry to continue your journey?’ Arabella enquired.

  As setdowns went, this one was quite subtle, Darius acknowledged admiringly as he gazed at his wife. Very subtle, in fact, and yet it more than made clear Arabella’s displeasure at Grayson’s interruption of their privacy so soon after their wedding.

  ‘I have invited Gray to stay with us for a few days at least, Arabella,’ he informed her.

  She raised frosty brows. ‘Indeed?’

  It was all Darius could do to hold back his smile at that obvious frostiness, and poor Gray looked as if he were wishing himself a hundred miles away! ‘Indeed,’ he echoed mockingly.

  Arabella nodded abruptly. ‘It can become so incredibly tedious in the country without stimulating company to alleviate the boredom, can it not?’

  If they had been alone Darius would have almost certainly given in to the temptation he’d had on several occasions in this past week to place Arabella over his knee and raise her skirts before spanking her luscious little bottom!

  But then if they had been alone Darius doubted he would have had reason to feel that impulse. Arabella was obviously severely displeased at the thought of having Lord Gideon Grayson as a guest at Winton Hall for the next few days!

  As one of the agents who had long worked for Darius, Gray had been the obvious choice for Bancroft to send in response to the message Darius had had his footman deliver to the Earl following the fire at the coaching inn.

  Now that Gray was rested from his hell-for-leather ride to Winton Hall the previous day, the two men had to discuss the situation further before deciding upon an appropriate course of action, even whilst disagreeing as to the identity of the perpetrator of these accidents. Darius still favoured his brother Francis, whereas Gray believed it to be the traitor Helena Jourdan—the Frenchwoman having escaped from captivity on the day of Sebastian St Claire’s wedding to Juliet Boyd by seducing her jailer into releasing her.

  Whilst Darius sympathised with Arabella’s resentment at Gray’s continued presence here, he also knew that the other man would be helpful in preventing any more of those ‘accidents’ from proving to be fatal.

  Arabella’s cheeks burned with obvious temper. ‘I am sure Darius will appreciate having you for company after I have gone.’

  Darius became very still. ‘After you have gone where?’ He looked across at her with flintily narrowed eyes.

  Their lovemaking the previous evening had convinced Arabella into abandoning her decision to leave Darius come the morning. But his avoidance of sharing her bed the night before, and now his desire for Lord Grayson’s company rather than her own, only days after their wedding, surely meant that Darius did not feel the same way about their lovemaking as she did. Besides which, Arabella had far from forgotten the existence of that ‘vengeful woman’ from Darius’s past…

  She met Darius’s flinty gaze unblinkingly. ‘It seems an ideal opportunity for me to visit with my family at Mulberry Hall now that Lord Grayson has arrived to amuse you in my stead.’

  ‘Oh, I say!’ Lord Grayson protested awkwardly.

  Forget temptation, Darius decided grimly. The moment they were alone he was going to spank Arabella’s bottom until she screamed for mercy!

  ‘Would you mind leaving us, Grayson?’ His voice was dangerously soft, his gaze still fixed firmly on Arabella’s angrily flushed face. ‘It would seem that my wife and I have a few things of our own to discuss this morning,’ he added with deceptive pleasantness.

  ‘Of course.’ Gray grimaced uncomfortably. ‘I should go upstairs and bathe, anyway. Excuse me, Your Grace.’ He bowed formally to Arabella and received a cool nod of dismissal for his trouble.

  Darius waited only long enough for Gray to shoot him an apologetic grimace and beat a hasty retreat, before crossing the room to stand mere inches away from his wife. ‘You were not very polite to our guest, love.’

  Arabella’s eyes flashed with golden lights as she looked up at him. ‘I believe Lord Grayson is your guest, not mine.’

  ‘Nevertheless…’

  ‘Nevertheless he is your guest and not mine!’ she maintained with haughty stubbornness.

  Darius drew in a sharp breath. ‘You will apologise to Lord Grayson when he returns downstairs.’

  ‘I most certainly will not!’ Arabella eyed him scornfully.

  ‘I believe that you will.’ Darius’s tone once again possessed that deceptive softness that most of his acquaintances and all of his enemies would have warned his young and defiant wife to beware.

  Unfortunately for Arabella, none of those acquaintances or enemies was now at hand to administer such a warning!

  ‘You may believe what you choose, Darius.’ Arabella gave a dismissive movement of her hand. ‘Now, if you will excuse me? I need to go upstairs and pack—What do you think you are doing?’ She gasped indignantly as Darius caught hold of her wrist with steely fingers to pull her along behind him as he strode over to the settee.

  ‘What am I doing?’ Darius mused, even as he sat down on the settee and pulled a struggling Arabella face-down across his thighs. ‘You have been rude to a guest in our home, Arabella. A rudeness for which you have refused to apologise. It is now my intention to administer suitable punishment for that refusal.’

  ‘But—Darius!’ she screamed in protest as her skirts were thrown up over her back and he revealed the plump cheeks of her naked bottom. ‘Darius, if you do this I will—’

  ‘Yes?’ Darius prompted, as he administered the first light slap against those shapely orbs.

  ‘I—How dare you?’ she squealed.

  ‘Oh, I believe when you know me better, Arabella, you will learn that I dare any number of things. Disciplining an unruly wife being the least of them!’ His expression was grimly determined as he struck another light blow.

  ‘I swear, I will kill you if you do that again!’ Arabella ground out between clenched teeth, her face fiery red as she turned to glare up at him.

  ‘You will have to get in line, love,’ Darius drawled ruefully as he administered another slap to her naked flesh, the skin now flushed almost as much as her face. ‘Those were for your rudeness and your refusal to apologise to Lord Grayson. Now, explain what you mean by your claim that it is your intention to leave me this morning.’

  ‘You have made it more than obvious that you consider our marriage to have been a mistake—’

  ‘In what way obvious?’ he demanded incredulously.

  ‘You abandoned my bedchamber last night in preference to drinking brandy with Lord Grayson. You prefer his company this morning instead of my own. You—Oh, you monster!’ Arabella screamed as another slap resounded upon her bottom.

  ‘We will get at least one of your complaints settled right now, Arabella,’ he declared.

  ‘Which is?’ she challenged.

  ‘I have no intention—of allowing you—to leave me.’ Each phrase was accompanied by another light smack to that delicious little bottom as Darius held Arabella’s squirming body firmly captive with his arm across her back. ‘Not today. Not the next time you take it into your beautiful head to be angry with me. Not ever. Do I make myself clear?’

  Arabella continued to struggle against that grasp. ‘You cannot stop me from doing exactly as I please—’

  ‘Wrong answer,’ Darius said mildly.

  She glared at him. ‘It is the only answer you shall receive from me. No matter how much and for how long you beat me!’

  Darius caught her wrist as her hand came up to strike him. ‘I do not in the least enjoy beating you, Arabella—’

  ‘Liar!’ she accused heatedly.

  Darius’s arousal testified the truth of that claim. As did his giving in to the temptation to fondle and caress that plump and fiery-cheeked bottom. Such a warm and deliciously plump bottom. So soft and smooth and—What was this…?

  A light caress between Arabella�
�s thighs revealed that his wife of four days was as aroused as Darius himself!

  Arabella could not hold back her groan of pleasure as she felt Darius’s caressing fingers exploring her intimately. That groan became a husky moan as one of those fingers entered her, and another found and rubbed the swollen nubbin hidden amongst her damp curls. That moan became a strangled cry as Darius continued his assault upon her senses until she became consumed in a release so long and so achingly pleasurable that Arabella felt a rush of the tears on her cheeks that she had refused to cry when Darius spanked her bottom.

  She was instantly mortified at her loss of control, and kept her eyes closed as she felt Darius lifting her up and over him, so that her nakedness now straddled his thighs. Thighs that she could feel were hard and pulsing!

  Her lids opened wide in surprise. ‘Darius…?’

  He smiled down at her. ‘I want you just as badly, love.’

  Arabella stared at him, not understanding how they could have gone from anger with each other to such arousal in just a few short minutes.

  ‘You are right to feel angry with me.’ Darius groaned with self-disgust as Arabella only continued to stare at him. ‘I should not have struck you. You—’

  He broke off with a strangled groan as Arabella reached down between them to unfasten his breeches and release his arousal.

  He was just as beautiful as Arabella remembered from yesterday evening. Hard. Pulsing. With skin like velvet as Arabella curled her fingers about him.

  She watched Darius’s face as she slowly began to move her hand up and down his length, noting the flush that appeared in his cheeks and the clenching of his arrogant jaw. His hair was already dishevelled from his sword practice, several tendrils clinging damply to his brow, and the hair on his chest, visible at the deep vee of his unbuttoned shirt, was also slightly damp from his earlier exertion.

  ‘God, Arabella,’ Darius groaned weakly as she smoothed her thumb across the sensitive tip of his arousal. ‘Are you very sore from last night, love?’