‘Conveniently dead, remember?’ her husband drawled dryly.
‘Stop it, Darius!’ Arabella gave him an irritated frown as he reminded her of her own accusation.
‘I apologise.’ He grimaced ruefully. ‘Please proceed.’
Arabella shot him a narrow-eyed glance. ‘Because you had been widowed by the time George died, you had no wife with whom you could provide a legitimate heir. And so if you were also to meet an accidental death then Francis would inherit the title…’
Darius revealed none of his admiration for his wife as he looked at her from beneath hooded lids. Which was not to say he did not admire her—very much. In only a matter of seconds, it seemed, she had managed to grasp the motivation behind Francis’s causing the death of two completely innocent people. For also, possibly, being the cause of the most recent ‘accidents’ involving Arabella and Darius.
‘Until you remarried you were not in danger,’ she continued slowly. ‘But now our marriage once again allows for the eventual appearance of a legitimate heir…’
‘I am not sure that I altogether like your repeated references to a “legitimate” heir, Arabella,’ Darius said. ‘I have already assured you that to my knowledge, I have no illegitimate heirs, either!’
Once again she felt the warmth enter her cheeks. ‘It was only a figure of speech, Darius.’
‘One I do not care for,’ he muttered.
‘You are grasping at irrelevancies—’
‘It is not irrelevant to me!’
‘Very well.’ Arabella gave a cool nod. ‘Is the rest of my theory a factual one?’
She could see that Darius’s jaw was clenched and his teeth gritted as he obviously fought back his temper. Although why he should be so annoyed by it Arabella had no idea; Darius’s numerous affairs over the previous ten years had become legendary—so was it not logical to assume that there might have been one or two unwelcome consequences to those alliances?
‘It is,’ he said curtly.
‘Why did you tell me—? Why did you deliberately lead me to believe that you were responsible for Sophie’s death?’ She eyed him reprovingly.
‘Because I am responsible,’ Darius snarled. ‘If I had not married Sophie then Francis would not have felt the need to be rid of her.’
‘That does not make you responsible—’
‘I disagree,’ he cut in, that coldness back in his expression. ‘I did not know it at the time, but I placed Sophie in danger just by marrying her.’
Arabella eyed him guardedly. ‘You have already indicated to me that you were not in love with her. Why not?’ She drew her breath in sharply, uncertain whether she would be able to withstand hearing that Darius had, in fact, been in love with his first wife after all…
‘We…respected each other for the honesty of our…needs.’ Darius’s jaw was set tensely.
‘I do not understand.’
Darius placed his clenched hands behind his back. ‘It was a marriage of convenience. Sophie wished for a title, and I was obviously in need of her fortune.’
Arabella frowned.
Darius looked rueful. ‘Unpleasant, is it not?’
It had not been a love-match, certainly, but many a match was made amongst the ton for far lesser reasons. Except…‘Was it for financial gain that you also offered for me last year?’
Darius lowered heavy lids to hide the expression in his eyes. ‘I do not believe this conversation to be of any relevance to the here and now.’
‘It is relevant to me!’ Arabella insisted.
‘Why is it?’ Darius eyed her quizzically. ‘What do you wish me to say, Arabella? What do you wish to hear? That I offered for you prior to offering for Sophie because I had need of your fortune? Or that I offered for you because I have loved you, been obsessed with you, since the moment I first set eyes on you?’
Arabella felt a painful twisting in her chest. ‘We both know that the latter is not true.’
‘Then it must be the first, must it not?’ Darius rasped harshly.
Arabella’s heart felt heavy. ‘You are right. This conversation is not helping our present situation.’ She drew herself up proudly. ‘If my abductor tonight was Francis, then why do you suppose he only took me from my bedchamber before leaving me tied up in the stables? Surely the death of a second wife in little over a year would have sealed your guilt in the eyes of the law, as well as the ton?’
Darius should have felt relieved at this sudden return to the events of this evening, but what he really felt was a cold and icy shiver down the length of his spine at the thought of Arabella being at Francis’s questionable mercy. ‘Perhaps he did it to show me that he could?’
He had thought that by banishing Francis to the Continent he had solved the dilemma of his younger brother’s despicable actions. But these last few days of ‘accidents’, to Arabella, as well as himself, and then her senseless abduction, served to convince Darius that if Francis were the one responsible for these things then the mental sickness that so obviously held him in its grip must be worsening; his brother was becoming a danger to himself, as well as to others.
Unless, as Grayson preferred to believe, Francis was not the one to blame, but rather it was the vengeful Helena Jourdan?
Darius had to admit that the fact that Arabella had been taken from her bedchamber this evening to be left in the stables, tied up but unharmed, did not seem like something that Francis would have done. Surely once Francis had got his hands on Arabella he would have arranged for her to die whilst he had the chance?
‘Perhaps he did,’ Arabella agreed distractedly now. ‘But just because Francis is your brother it does not seem sufficient reason to me for you to continue to allow the ton to believe that you are the one guilty of these awful deeds!’ She looked up at him searchingly.
His mouth twisted ruefully. ‘Believe me, Arabella, my reputation is well able to withstand the scandal.’
‘But—’
‘It really is better left as it is,’ Darius insisted firmly.
‘Better for whom, exactly?’ she shot back.
‘For everyone.’ His expression was bleak. ‘Have you forgotten the existence of my sister-in-law, Margaret?’
Ah. The Dowager Duchess of Carlyne. George’s widowed wife.
Arabella’s gaze sharpened. ‘You prefer that she continues to believe that you rather than Francis may be guilty of killing her husband?’
Darius stood up impatiently. ‘Margaret does not believe me responsible for killing anyone.’
‘I appreciate that she has remained here at the Dower House since her husband died, but surely once she returned to town for our wedding she would have heard the gossip about you.’
‘If she did then she will have dismissed it,’ Darius said, his gaze glacial. ‘My sister-in-law knows me, you see, Arabella. She knows unequivocally that I would never have harmed George in any way. He was my brother, Arabella.’ His voice deepened emotionally. ‘I have already explained that he was older than me by twenty years and more. What I did not tell you is that he and Margaret effectively became parents to Francis and myself after our father died. We grew up here with their own son, Simon, and we were all treated exactly the same by them. As such, I loved both Margaret and George. I deeply respected them, and would never, ever have wished George harm. Margaret may very well have heard the gossip whilst in town for our wedding.’ His expression was grim. ‘But I assure you that she will have dismissed those rumours as the mere tittle-tattle that they are.’
Arabella cheeks flushed uncomfortably as she heard the underlying accusation in Darius’s tone. ‘But the truth would exonerate you completely in the eyes of Society—’
‘I do not give that—’ he snapped his finger and thumb together dismissively ‘—for what Society thinks of me!’
‘And my family? Should they not be told the truth?’ Arabella looked up at him in frustration.
Darius looked haughty. ‘Why?’
‘Because—well, because—’
Arabella flinched. ‘You are deliberately twisting my words, Darius.’
‘Do you not think that Margaret has already suffered enough, with the death of her only son two and a half years ago, followed by that of her husband but seven months ago? What good would it do now to start the gossip all over again by publicly claiming my innocence of any wrongdoing? For Margaret to learn that, although George was ill, he still need not have died when he did? That but for Francis’s actions she would almost certainly not be alone now and widowed?’
Once again Arabella felt the prick of tears behind her lids as she thought of all that Margaret Wynter had suffered.
Her expression softened as she looked up at her husband. ‘Why do you choose to keep your kindness to your sister-in-law, your love and loyalty for your family, hidden behind a social mask of arrogance and coldness?’
‘Because I am cold and arrogant, damn it!’ Darius glared down at her fiercely. ‘The fact that I choose to avoid even more of a family scandal by not revealing the truth does not make me any less the selfish man Society believes me to be.’
Arabella knew Darius was often arrogant and mocking. That he could be cold and hard, too. But he was not selfish. Far from it.
Once again Darius seemed to have overlooked the fact that she had three older brothers who were just as outwardly arrogant, and who could also be cold and hard. But as their sister, Arabella knew there was so much more to them than the faces they chose to show to Society.
Just as there was so much more to her husband….
Darius’s determination to protect Margaret Wynter from the truth more than proved that. Making her curious as to what else he chose to keep hidden. And why…
‘No,’ she accepted softly. ‘But your kindness as regards your sister-in-law does allow for there being another, softer side to your nature that you choose not to share with Society.’
Darius grimaced. ‘Arabella, please do not attempt to bestow virtues on me where none exist.’
Was that what she was doing? Perhaps. And yet…
‘As for your own family being privy to the truth,’ Darius continued, ‘I believe you will find that Lucian, at least, knows I am not guilty of killing anyone.’
Arabella gave him a startled glance. ‘Lucian does?’
Darius had meant only to reassure her, but as he saw the way her eyes darkened with suspicion he accepted that he would have to share all the events of seven months ago with her.
‘Grace is Margaret’s niece, and she and Lucian were here at Winton Hall in April when I confronted Francis,’ he explained. ‘Lucian is sworn to secrecy over the matter, but…’He gave a rueful shrug. ‘I doubt, as with most men, he has managed to keep all of the truth from his own wife.’
‘Can that be the reason, do you suppose, that Lucian did not disapprove of our marriage?’
‘Perhaps.’
‘Only perhaps?’ she teased.
Darius shrugged taut shoulders. ‘Lucian and I have been acquaintances for many years. He and my nephew Simon were at school together. As such, Lucien stayed here often at Winton Hall when we were all children. We have also passed many an evening together at our clubs, or elsewhere, since we became adults,’ he added dryly.
She had no wish to know the details of this ‘elsewhere’—either in regard to Darius or her brother! ‘In other words, even if Lucian had not been present last April when you confronted Francis, my brother knows you well enough to realise you could not have been responsible for killing either Sophie or George?’
‘As I have said, Arabella, do not bestow virtues on me where none exist!’ Darius insisted. ‘I assure you I am more than capable of killing if I feel that any member of my family, or myself, is being threatened.’
Arabella felt a shiver down the length of her spine as she saw the icy determination in his expression. ‘Perhaps we should not discuss this any further tonight?’ She stood up to cross the room to his side, the slenderness of her body almost touching his much harder one. ‘I need you to hold me, Darius,’ she encouraged gruffly. ‘To hold me close so that I know I am once again safe.’
Darius knew he was lost the moment he looked down into the depths of her warm brown eyes. Her gaze was both direct and vulnerable—a combination guaranteed to captivate. And it certainly did captivate Darius, ensnaring him into experiencing an instant aching sensuality that made even continuing to breathe difficult.
Arabella’s lips were so full and pink, so soft and succulent, and the swell of her breasts moved gently above the low neckline of the blue silk gown as she breathed shallowly. Expectantly. As if waiting for, anticipating the intimacy that would surely follow.
Darius’s gaze moved to the pale creaminess of her throat. Her pulse was a wild flutter just beneath the surface of her smooth and silky skin, that same pulse beating at the delicacy of her temple as his gaze moved slowly across her face. Even as he looked at Arabella her lips parted expectantly, a pouting encouragement that instantly caused his thighs to harden.
‘If I were to hold you now, I cannot guarantee that is all I would do.’ His voice sounded harsh in the tense and expectant silence that now surrounded them.
Her answer was to move closer still, an inviting smile curving those full and swollen lips as she did so. It was a warm and totally trusting smile that cut right to the heart of him.
‘You have already been through so much tonight, Arabella, and I may not be able to be as gentle with you as you need me to be,’ he warned her as his hands reached out to grasp the bare tops of her arms to hold her slightly away from him.
She had suffered a terrifying ordeal this evening, but Darius knew that he felt that fear on her behalf no less sharply. As such, his own emotions were raw and fierce, and he was not sure he would be able to control those emotions if he took her into his arms.
Once the dropped candle and broken necklace had convinced him that she had not left her bedchamber willingly, Darius knew he had behaved like a madman as he’d searched the house from top to bottom in an effort to find her. That heated anger had turned to an icy fury in his chest the moment he’d realised she was no longer in the house, but somewhere outside in the darkness, most probably the prisoner of someone who wished to do her harm. At the very least in the power of someone who thought to wound Darius by taking her from him.
To now have her back, obviously shaken but unharmed, was almost more than he could bear, and if he started making love to her he knew that he was in danger of losing all restraint. Of possibly frightening her with the depth of his need to possess her in an effort to keep her safe from further harm.
She shook her head now. Several of her silky curls had fallen loose about her shoulders during her captivity. ‘It is not gentleness I require from you tonight, Darius.’
His breath caught sharply. ‘Then…what?’
The boldness of her gaze met his unflinchingly. ‘I wish to feel, Darius. To experience…everything. Every kiss and every caress.’ She moved to press the softness of her body against him, her breasts a voluptuous crush against his chest. ‘I want to feel all of those things and know that I am truly still alive and safe in your arms.’
A nerve pulsed in his clenched jaw. ‘You may find yourself less safe with me than you would wish!’
She looked totally confident. ‘I do not believe you would ever do anything that might hurt me.’ She lifted one of her hands to trail her fingertips down the hard hollows of his cheek. ‘Take me upstairs and make love to me, Darius. Please!’
He swallowed convulsively, knowing he was not strong enough to withstand her pleading. Yet also knowing, no matter what the cost to himself, that he would do everything in his power to show her the gentleness she needed from him.
He swung her up into his arms and carried her out into the hallway—to find Gideon Grayson s
tanding there, talking to Westlake. Arabella’s arms tightened about his neck and she buried her face against the hardness of his chest as she also saw the two men. The fierce expression on Darius’s face was warning enough for neither man to attempt any further conversation with him tonight.
‘What will they think of me?’ Arabella groaned in embarrassment as Darius carried her effortlessly up the wide staircase.
‘They will think, as I do, that you are a very brave young woman who at the very least deserves to be carried upstairs to her bedchamber,’ he said indulgently.
Her arms tightened about his neck. ‘Your own bedchamber, please, Darius. I cannot—I do not wish to go back into my own room tonight.’
His mouth tightened grimly as he thought once more of the fear Arabella must have suffered when last in her bedchamber. His eyes glittered fiercely as he recalled her mention of that silencing hand placed across her mouth and the restraining arm about her throat. That she was still alive and safe here in his arms was almost enough to bring Darius to his knees.
As it was, his arms tightened about her as he carried her down the hallway. His own bedchamber was bathed in a golden glow from the single candle that his valet had left burning on the bedside table. A glow that bathed Arabella in that same golden light as Darius placed her carefully on top of the bedcovers.
Her arms remained tightly locked about his neck as she pulled him down with her, his fully clothed body half lying across her own as she raised her mouth to his invitingly.
It was an invitation Darius had no will or desire to resist, and his mouth gently claimed hers, that gentleness blazing into fierce desire as her lips parted beneath his and Darius felt the soft, encouraging stroke of her tongue against his own.
Lady Arabella's Scandalous Marriage Page 19