Inhaling deeply, she relaxed. Pressing a kiss to his forehead, she whispered, “Yes, my love, you are.”
Chapter Twenty-nine
Days passed in anxious vigil. Isobel tended to Matteo’s burns with healing poultices and restorative draughts, getting little sleep. What rest she did get was snatched sitting up in bed at his side.
But day-by-day he improved and eventually the risk of infection passed. The burn on his chest scabbed over and by moving gingerly he was able to sit up and eventually stand and walk.
Unfortunately, his hands were far worse off. The skin had been badly burned and the musculature deeply damaged. He couldn’t move them. They hung at his sides, lifeless claws he couldn’t open or close. Without a miracle, it was likely he would never be able to use them again.
Despite being witness and catalyst to the events in the greenhouse, the count couldn’t stop from criticizing her role. Upset over Matteo’s hands, he cornered her in the parlor a few days later. He argued that she should have found a way that wouldn’t have left his son scarred if things went wrong.
Hanging onto her temper by a thread she defended herself, and Matteo, who had been willing to risk everything-including death-than live with that blackness in his soul.
“And let’s not forget exactly why we are here now,” she added through gritted teeth. “This is because of you and your arrogance and sense of self-entitlement.”
“What does that mean?” he argued back.
“Gina.”
He scoffed. “I provided for the child and would have done so for the mother had she lived.”
In spite of everything that had happened, all the damage and destruction he had witnessed, his tone was still dismissive. Nino’s revenge hadn’t been enough to pierce his thick shell of overblown sense of privilege. She was about to blister his ears when they were interrupted.
“You may have provided for your other child, but have you acknowledged him? Or is it a her?”
Matteo was standing in the doorway of the parlor. He was dressed in the same breeches she’d helped him into that morning. He’d somehow managed to throw a shirt over his shoulders, but left it hanging open over his bandaged chest.
“Son, you’re awake,” Aldo said, twisting to face the door.
Matteo nodded slowly and then turned to smile weakly at Isobel before looking back to his father. “And you still haven’t said whether or not I have a brother or a sister.”
Aldo frowned. “That doesn’t matter. I’ve already told you, the child is provided for.”
Matteo came inside and sat next to Isobel on the settee. “And what kind of life do they have?”
His father’s mouth firmed. “A perfectly decent one. One of my tenant farmers took the babe. He and his wife had no children at the time. It was a good fit for him.”
“Him?” Matteo narrowed his eyes at his father. “My brother is going to be a tenant farmer? On an estate I will someday inherit?”
His mouth twisted in distaste.
The count tsked. “He’s a bastard. I’ve made arrangements for him. He’ll get his own plot someday,” he said with the air of someone who felt truly magnanimous.
“That’s not good enough. He should get his fair share.”
“He is getting what he deserves. Few illegitimate children are so lucky.”
“And whose fault is it that the boy isn’t legitimate?” Matteo said, forgetting himself and throwing up his bandaged hands before wincing.
Aldo swore. “What did you expect me to do? Marry his mother?”
“Why not?” Matteo yelled.
The Conte looked at him as if he’d lost his mind. “You don’t marry a domestic,” he said incredulously.
“I did,” he replied quietly.
Isobel turned to Matteo, slipping her hand behind his back to rub it in small circles.
Aldo passed a hand over his face “A governess is different. Her father was a gentleman.”
She suppressed an ironic smile.
“Well, at least you acknowledge that much,” Matteo said quietly.
Rubbing his face with both hands, Aldo sighed loudly. “We can discuss this later. You need your rest. I’m going to go home.”
Matteo leaned forward. “I think that’s a good idea.”
Sighing, Aldo rose. “I’ll call again tomorrow.”
“No. I think it would be a good idea if you went home to Italy.”
His father stared at him, hurt deepening the grooves on either side of his mouth.
“It’s for the best, father,” Matteo continued.
“But you’re still injured…”
Matteo glanced at Isobel. “I’ll be in good hands. In fact, I’ll probably heal much better if we’re on our own,” he added gently. “Once I’m able to travel we’ll follow.”
His father frowned. “When?” he asked.
“Soon,” Matteo sighed, giving her a sideways glance. “The climate of this country doesn’t suit me.”
Inhaling deeply, Aldo finally nodded. “All right, but you’ll come directly home once you’re able?”
“We will see,” Matteo said slowly.
They said their goodbyes, but Matteo stopped Aldo at the doorway.
“Father, we’re not done talking about my brother yet,” he added.
Aldo sighed loudly, his shoulders slumping before he nodded.
Once he was gone, there was silence. Matteo just stood there, looking at the doorway for several moments.
Isobel marched up to him. “Bed. Now.”
He smiled slightly. “Yes, madame witch. Your wish is my command.”
***
Upstairs, Isobel changed Matteo’s bandages with quick efficiency. He was quiet, his face grave throughout the procedure. When she tried to give him a healing tonic, one she hoped would help repair the musculature of his hands, he shook his head.
“Darling, what’s wrong?”
Matteo cocked his head at her, giving her a wry glance. He gestured down at himself with a quick motion of his head.
She sighed. “The scarring will improve. In time, you’ll be able to walk normally. My grandmother’s poultices will help keep the skin soft and pliant enough to stretch. This tonic will help the damaged muscles. There’s every chance you may regain some use in your hands. You mustn’t give up hope.”
He closed his eyes and shook his head. “No. No more tonics. I don’t deserve hope…or to get better.”
Isobel kneeled in front of him. “Of course you do. It’s normal to grow despondent when you’re facing a long recovery.”
“This isn’t melancholia. This,” he held up his hands, “is penance. I did so many horrible things, in reality I deserve so much worse. And you…you deserve only the best. Your freedom-and a man to love who isn’t tainted. Someone who’s not disfigured. That’s one of the reasons I asked my father to go on ahead. As soon as he departs for Italy, you can leave.”
Hurt, Isobel glared at him with tears in her eyes.
“It’s all right, mi amore,” he assured her earnestly. “I’ll buy you a house anywhere you want and make sure you have everything you need. Your own accounts. With all you’ve done for me, you deserve your freedom.”
“Do you honestly believe that after everything we’ve been through I’m going to leave you now?
Are you insane?”
His mouth opened and closed a few times. “Isobel, I’m a murderer.”
“No, Nino is, as well as the witch who cursed you. And if there is more blood on someone else’s hands then it’s your father who deserves his share-not you. More than his share! And you forget I heard all of Nino’s story. He admitted you were innocent of any wrongdoing. The curse was meant to punish your father. What they did to you was a crime. You were the victim, and now that I’ve gone through the trouble of saving you I will not be cheated.”
“Cheated?”
Isobel stood up and put her hands on her hips. “Yes, cheated. Did you or did you not promise that if I saved you, you would s
pend the rest of your life loving and cherishing me? Because I recall that you did-several times. So don’t try to tell me now that you were wrong or you made a mistake!”
Tears welled in his eyes. “There was no mistake. I’ve loved you since the moment I saw you.
Even though my mind wasn’t always my own, my heart recognized you. But you deserve better than this,” he said, lifting his hands in emphasis.
“What I deserve is your love and devotion, all of the happiness you promised. And I will get it because, damn it, I earned it!”
Matteo’s eyes grew bright with unspent tears, but he burst out laughing. “Yes, you did, and then some. If you are really willing to settle for an over-privileged and self-entitled conticino, then I’ll do my best to fulfill all of my promises.”
Relaxing, Isobel sighed and sat down next to him on the bed. “I don’t think those words have ever applied to you. You are nothing like your father. And I’ll expect more than your best,” she said with a playful nudge.
Eyes remote, he nodded. “Anything you want. And I’m not insulted. Truthfully, I’ve been thinking that my father and I need some.distance. Perhaps a lot of distance.”
“I know. You told him to go ahead to Italy.”
He swallowed. “I meant after we travel home. I have another small estate on the Lago di Bolsena. I inherited it from my grandmother. She used to make it her home when she was the dowager countess. Father doesn’t like it much because it’s not as grand as our other estates, but my mother loved it and I do too. I think that’s where we should make our home. If Father wants to see us, he can do so there. But only to visit. We should live on our own.”
Isobel put her hands over her heart, shoulders shaking in relief. “We don’t have to live with your father? Oh, thank the stars. That’s the best news I’ve ever heard.”
Matteo laughed again before wincing and subsided.
“Lean back, darling,” she urged, gently pushing at his shoulders to recline him on the pillows of his bed.
Unfastening his breeches, she tugged them down.
“Isobel, I’ve had enough sleep to last me a lifetime. There’s no way I’m going to bed right now.”
Laughing to herself, she pulled the cloth free of his legs. “Actually, I had something else in mind,” she said, beginning to unfasten her dress.
His eyes lit up. “And what might that be?” he asked, even as it became increasingly obvious that she was wiggling out of her gown.
“Well,” she began, joining him on the bed. “It occurs to me that this is the first time we’ve been alone together. Truly alone.”
He coughed, his hips rising as she reached out to massage his legs and then higher.
“I suppose that’s one way of looking at it.” His expression grew serious. “But what if.”
“If what?”
He glanced at her and then away quickly. “Suppose you like it better the other way? I still remember how intense it was. I don’t want to disappoint you now that I’m just a man,” he said in a low hoarse voice.
Her brow rose pointedly. “You could never do that.”
He looked at his hands and grimaced. “I can’t even touch you.”
“Yes, you can.” She smiled softly before pulling off her chemise and crawling to his side.
“Everywhere,” she whispered as she offered him her breasts.
He hesitated before latching onto the creamy mounds eagerly, kissing and sucking each in turn.
Shifting closer to her, he drew the rapidly hardening tip of one into his mouth and laved it, and then the other, with his tongue. Isobel moaned, parting her legs involuntarily.
It did feel different this time, more intense.
Her husband must have thought so too. “Cara, use your hand. Touch yourself for me,” he rasped.
“Open your legs wider so I can see.”
Blushing hotly, she complied. Moving over, she positioned herself closer to his head, parting her legs.
His eyes caressed her, so hot she could feel herself growing moist from his gaze alone.
Tentatively she touched between her legs, running her fingers up and down over her tender inner lips. She teased herself under his watchful dark eyes, playing with the little nub above her sex until she was breathing heavily.
So was he. “Isobel, climb over me-over my face. I want to taste you.”
A thrill passed through her at the idea. He moved down to lie flat on the bed. Heart racing, she shifted and threw her leg over him, positioning herself on her knees just over his face. Using the headboard to brace herself, she lowered those crucial few inches until he was there, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to her soft feminine flesh.
That caress reverberated through her body. Hands trembling, Isobel gripped the headboard tighter.
“You taste like nothing else, mi amore,” he whispered, his hot breath puffing over her wet sex.
“Move yourself as you will. I want you to guide me.”
Isobel looked down, meeting his eyes. It was so strange to see him smiling up at her from between her legs. She laughed and nodded, adjusting her hips so that she was hovering above him, shifting up and down so that his lips and tongue could caress her.
“Oh, God,” she gasped as he sucked her pearl into his mouth. Above him she writhed, rocking back and forth as his mouth worked its magic underneath her.
His tongue probed her entrance, forcing its way inside her in a wicked twisting motion. The spasms started almost immediately. Her channel gripped him like a velvet vise, throbbing around him. Losing control, Isobel threw her head back and rocked faster until she was grinding down on him.
Her scream of completion made him laugh, but it was muffled and Isobel hastily collapsed to the side so she wouldn’t smother him.
It took several minutes to catch her breath. When she finally turned to look at him, he was watching her breasts heave up and down with each movement of her chest.
“It’s hell not being able to touch you, cara,” he said, twin notes of longing and frustration in his voice.
Poor Matteo, he truly did not deserve to lose the use of his hands.
“I would like to remind you, my lord, that the night isn’t over yet.”
He chuckled and she shifted down the bed, moving over him until her head was level with his manhood.
Tentatively, she reached out to lick him.
“What are you doing, amore?” he asked breathlessly.
“Something the maids used to whisper about…the things they did when they went out walking with their sweetheart. It was considered safe since they didn’t risk their positions by falling pregnant.”
Taking his already swollen manhood in her hands, she put her mouth over the rounded head, licking and sucking, cupping him below and squeezing lightly. Experimenting, she tried to take as much of him in her mouth as she could, but he was too big, so she settled for kissing him up and down his length.
Matteo didn’t seem to care that she couldn’t take all of him. His moans filled the air. She liked the sound and the fact that she was the one causing it. It was his turn to writhe helplessly, to be taken to the brink and then pushed over it.
His hips thrust up, trying to prolong the contact with the warmth of her mouth until he suddenly changed his mind.
“Cara, stop. Please. I need to be inside you.”
Still riding the high from pleasuring him she climbed over his thighs, bringing them together with a heady rush of sensual abandon.
The air in her lungs escaped in a hiss as she sank down on his steely arousal. He was almost too large and thick for her-especially in this position-but she was soft and hot from her earlier climax, enough to work his entire length inside.
He swore when the tip of him touched her womb, but quickly lost the power of speech when she began to move. Leaning forward and using her arms for leverage, she rose up until he was about to slip out and then quickly back down.
Below her, he reached up reflexively. His bandaged hands pressed against h
er hips.
She hurriedly leaned down to whisper, “No, my darling. You mustn’t.”
He needed to be careful. Taking hold of his wrists, she pressed his arms down to the bed, holding him by the forearms so he couldn’t hurt himself.
She pressed a kiss to his lips before beginning to rock again. Clasping him tightly in her sheath, she pumped up and down, losing herself in the feel of him. Her sheath gripped his shaft hungrily, the friction she generated catalyzing pleasure to blinding ecstasy.
Giving herself over to the moment, she cried out, hips rocking frantically as her climax rose and crested like a wave. It crashed down with the force of the ocean during a storm.
Inside of her, Matteo’s cock swelled and pulsed as his shout mingled with her own. Holding herself tight around him as the last tremors rocked their bodies, she just barely stopped herself from falling forward onto his bandaged chest.
The words he was chanting finally penetrated her bliss-fogged mind. “Ti amo, sempre.”
“Too overcome to speak, she concentrated on regaining the will to move. After a long minute she slipped to the left, pushing up against his side until her breasts and sex were pressed against his arm and hip.
“I love you, too,” she finally whispered back, stopping his chant with a touch of her fingers.
He kissed the tips briefly before speaking again.
“Thank you,” he breathed.
“For what? I mean aside from the obvious…” she asked with a teasing smile, turning to look up at him.
“For everything. For saving me and for staying,” he said, the love in his eyes warming her down to her soul.
She reached up to touch his cheek. “You forgot something.”
“What?” He frowned.
“To thank me for proving that what we have now-just the two of us-is better than anything that came before.”
His eyes lingered on her face with a loving expression. “I know that’s true for me. I’m just grateful you feel the same way. And know this, as soon as I can hold you in my arms again, I’m never letting go.”
Beyond The Veil: A Paranormal & Magical Romance Boxed Set Page 52