A Scandalous Marriage

by Cathy Maxwell

  “And let her hoard all the money she wants?”

  “Maybe she needs that right now. She has fears, too.” Charlotte rose. “It is frightening to be a woman without money. The world is not kind to us. Be patient, Devon. Give her time.”

  He came to his feet, took her hand, and kissed it. “What you are suggesting is not easy. I am not a patient man.”

  “It will be worth it, cher.”

  “I want the two of you to meet. You will be at the ball tomorrow night?”

  “The event of our age?” Charlotte asked with mock reverence.

  Devon laughed. “Venetia is not taking well to Leah’s presence. However, when Grandfather suggested Leah help with the planning of the ball, it motivated Venetia to take it all over herself and plan the grandest ball of the Season. Grandfather has given her carte blanche.”

  “How is your wife handling Venetia’s overbearing ways?”

  He shook his head. “The further away Leah is from my aunt, the happier she is.”

  “A wise woman,” Charlotte said.

  “I will see you tomorrow evening.” He kissed her hand again and took his leave.

  While Devon was at Charlotte’s, Leah had taken Ben to her parents’ house. Her mother played with Ben. She cooed at him. He cooed back.

  “He is so precious,” she said.

  “Devon can make him laugh. He becomes so excited when he hears his papa. Even Lord Kirkeby acts silly in Ben’s presence. This baby will be the most spoiled child in the kingdom.”

  “And is that so bad?” her mother asked Ben. He gifted her with one of his rare smiles, and she laughed with joy.

  Leah and her mother had grown close once more. Relations were good with her family—with the exception of Julian.

  “Have you heard from Julian?” Leah asked.

  “No,” her mother said curtly. “He is better off in Spain, Leah. Away from here, he will have a chance to think and perhaps realize that no good comes from hate.”

  Hate. It was a brutal word. She’d had more than her fill from Venetia, and she didn’t trust Rex at all. He smiled to her face, pleasant, charming, occasionally delightful—but she sensed he was biding his time.

  “Will it ever end?” she asked.

  “It has been going on for centuries,” her mother answered. “It is unrealistic to believe the distrust and animosity would end because we have settled our differences. It is enough of a miracle that Lord Kirkeby can set aside the sword. Ah, now, please, don’t worry. Think of the future. Of your son.”

  “I do…”

  “But?”

  Leah shook her head, uncertain whether to continue.

  “What is it, cara? What makes you so sad? You should be happy. You have everything a woman could want.”

  “Yes,” Leah agreed, the regret of her doubts lingering in the word. She bowed her head. “What I don’t understand is how to live with the weight of my past mistakes. They haunt me. I wake in the night and can’t sleep, wishing I had done things differently. But if I had, then there would be no Ben. I seem damned either way.”

  Her mother hugged her close. “There isn’t one of us who doesn’t have regrets. Some of what we fear is that our sins are so heavy there can be no atonement. But there is. You forgave me, and even more of a blessing, you have been returned to me safe and unharmed.” She paused. “And wiser.”

  “I believe it much easier to forgive others than to forgive myself.”

  “You are correct,” her mother agreed sadly. Her voice carried the regret of experience. “The hardest part, Leah, is forgiving ourselves. Those who love us go on, and we should too. Do not linger over events you cannot change. Worse, sometimes there are mistakes of judgment that are not public knowledge. Secrets that we carry in our hearts. We fear confessing them because the consequences of atonement might cost more than we are willing to pay.”

  A hollowness in her mother’s voice caught Leah’s attention. She had not meant to burden her mother with her worries. Covering her mother’s hand with her own, she attempted to lighten her tone as she said, “Thank you. I will try to leave the past behind.”

  Her mother nodded. “You must. For the sake of those you love. They are all that is important. In Devon’s arms and in the lives of your children, you will find peace.”

  In Devon’s arms.

  There was another question she had wanted to ask. She knew of no one else she could turn to. “Mama, how do you let a man know it is all right to use his stick with you again?”

  Her mother blinked. “Stick? Your Papa loves me. He would never beat me. Has Huxhold beat you?”

  “No,” Leah said hurriedly, “but I’m not talking about a stick but a stick.”

  “A stick that is not a stick?” Her mother’s accented English made the question sound inane.

  Leah raised her hand to her forehead. She wasn’t doing this well. She tried to explain. “Remember Mae, my maid? She explained to me about men and women. She called that part of men a stick.” She made a harried gesture with her hands to explain herself, unable to use words.

  “Ahhhh,” her mother said with understanding. She inched closer to Leah on the sofa. “You have questions about the marriage bed?”

  “Yes,” Leah said, relieved. “The marriage bed. That sounds better than stick.”

  “And you have not asked Huxhold these questions?”

  “After the baby I feared asking in case he thought me well enough to, well, you know. The idea of a man doing that to me in the weeks after Ben—” She broke off with a shiver.

  “Understandably, cara. But now you are starting to wonder?”

  “Yes.” She was more than starting to wonder. Devon paraded himself nude in front of her all the time. She had grown accustomed to the sight of the male body, but lately she had been feeling something else. Something called desire. It was becoming increasingly difficult to lie in his arms at night and not want more. Especially when his kisses had the power to turn her inside out. But Leah had turned shy. How did a woman ask her husband to make love to her? Especially when she feared the act itself?

  There had been pain with David Draycutt, but she was willing to suffer the small discomfort for Devon. She wanted to please him.

  Her mother laughed softly. “It is not difficult, Leah. Tell your husband what you just told me, but leave off the part about a stick. It is too confusing.”

  “I don’t think I could say anything like that to him.” Her face overheated just at the thought of discussing such a subject with Devon.

  “Well,” her mother said thoughtfully, “perhaps you can tell him without words.” She whispered in Leah’s ear some of the ways a woman could express herself—if she were bold enough.

  Leah waited for what seemed like an eternity for her husband to return home. She knew he’d arrived when she heard the sound of his voice in the nursery. He had stopped to see Ben. He then asked Fiona about Leah’s whereabouts, which was not surprising, since she usually was in the nursery every evening at this time.

  But tonight would be different.

  A single knock on the door was her only warning before he entered the bedroom. “Leah?”

  Her heart slammed against her chest. “I’m here,” she called softly from the other side of the privacy screen. She swallowed. “How was your day?”

  “Fine.” She could almost picture him yanking at the knot in his neckcloth. It was the first thing he always did when he came home. He’d even banished the fastidious valet from attending him at any other time than in the morning. It was not a problem, since both she and Devon preferred the quiet of home.

  Leah closed her eyes, praying for courage. What she was about to do was the most outrageous thing she’d ever done. She only hoped it wasn’t the most foolish.

  Silently counting to three, she stepped out from behind the screen wearing a large linen towel, her hair, and not anything else. She just wished her legs didn’t feel like water.

  Devon had started to shrug out of his coat when sh
e made her appearance. He froze, his arms still in the sleeves. He stared, dumbfounded.

  She waited. Her mother had assured her she wouldn’t have to do much, not with her husband’s reputation.

  But he didn’t move. She wet suddenly dry lips. Why didn’t he move? Perhaps she had to be bolder. Or perhaps she was wrong and he was perfectly happy with everything between them exactly the way it was.

  She was just preparing to apologize and hop behind the screen and get decently dressed when he said her name.

  “Leah.” His hushed inflection made the word sound like a prayer.

  Now she must do the second part of her plan. The part her mother assured her would invoke a response out of Devon. Closing her eyes, she released her hold on the towel.

  She couldn’t look. She was afraid to. What if he laughed? What if he frowned in disgust at her? Her body had still not returned to its prepregnancy form. She feared it might never return. Her hips seemed wider, her breasts heavier. Panic coursed through her. She shouldn’t have done this. Her head lowered to hide her deep embarrassment, and she reached for the towel lying in a heap around her ankles.

  Then he was there. He’d thrown his jacket to the floor. His hand took her arm. “No, don’t.”

  She was thankful her hair covered her breasts. She wished it reached lower. “This is silly. I shouldn’t have done it.”

  “No,” he emphatically denied. “This is anything but silly.”

  She still didn’t have the courage to look at him. His hand slipped up to her hair and he pushed it back, exposing one tightly puckered nipple. He rested his hand on her rib cage, his thumb brushing the curve of her breast. “In fact,” he whispered, “you are beautiful this way. I almost regret buying clothes for you.”

  His words made her feel hot and moist. She raised her gaze to his. “Do you think I am beautiful enough to kiss?”

  Devon didn’t disappoint. “Oh yes.” His kiss drank deeply. Her full breasts pressed against the material of his shirt. The sensation made her light-headed. She felt wanton to be naked while he was clothed.

  She also felt safe. Devon couldn’t do what Draycutt had—with his breeches on.

  The realization startled her. She pulled back. His hold tightened. “What is it?”

  She couldn’t tell him. Everything inside of her, the emotions, common sense, rational thinking, it was all jumbled and confused. “I don’t know,” she admitted.

  “Leah, don’t be afraid. This is right. It’s the way we are meant to be.”

  “I know. I won’t jump. I promise. I’ll stand still.”

  Her words stunned him momentarily. Then he drew back, swearing under his breath.

  “I’ve made you angry.” She started to turn away.

  “No,” he said quickly, his hold tightening. “I’m just frustrated. Draycutt is like a ghost in our past.”

  “I don’t think about him,” she lied.

  He lifted a dubious eyebrow, but he didn’t challenge her. “Leah, are you sure you are ready to consummate our marriage?”

  She nodded miserably.

  “Or is it that your body is ready but your mind isn’t?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “Does it matter?” he repeated incredulously. “Oh, Leah, let me show you.” Before she knew what he was about, Devon lifted her up in his arms and carried her to the bed.

  She stiffened. “What are you going to do?”

  “Banish ghosts.”

  CHAPTER 17

  The coverlet felt cool beneath her naked skin. Leah lay back. Devon tugged off his boots. She waited for him to undress…but he didn’t.

  Instead, he climbed beside her on the bed, his weight on the mattress rolling her toward him. He kissed her. Lightly at first, but then with growing intensity. His tongue entered her mouth. Slowly, her embarrassment was forgotten and her body no longer felt chilled but warm, fevered even.

  She ran her hands along his shoulders and pulled at his shirt, wanting to feel his skin against hers. He caught her hand and held it away. His body covered hers.

  “I want to show you passion, Leah,” he whispered. “I don’t want you to ever be afraid again.”

  “Just kiss me,” she answered, and he laughed and did exactly as she ordered.

  Leah was lost in the kiss. The weight of his body across hers felt good. Suddenly, he rolled her over. She found herself sitting astride him. The kiss broke as he positioned her over his hips.

  She could feel the length and force of his erection pressing against her intimately, separated by one layer of warm leather. The heat between their bodies startled her. His hands rested on her thighs, pressing lightly to keep her in place.

  “Do you feel it, Leah?” he asked, his eyes gleaming with a wicked light.

  Oh yes. “Feel what?” she asked half in jest and half with a tremble of fear.

  “This.” He moved his hips, lifting up. Desire spiked deep within her. He moved again, and she cried out in pain and pleasure. Where had this come from?

  His eyes closed, his lips curling with satisfaction. “It’s going to be good between us, Leah. You are so amazingly responsive. I knew it the first time I kissed you.”

  His hands stroked her thighs, his fingers moving higher each time.

  “Devon?” She shivered in anticipation for something she did not yet understand.

  In answer, he raised up to cover her breast with his mouth. At the same time, his thumb circled and touched what seemed the very core of her. The caress of his thumb was like a jolt of electricity; only the energy was different. Instead of backing away, she pushed forward.

  His lips moved hungrily against her breasts. She wrapped her arms around his head, needing to be grounded. Sparks danced and leapt inside of her. She no longer controlled her own actions. Her body moved and pressed against his hand.

  Devon rolled her over again. He covered her with his body, his legs along hers, his hands capturing hers at the wrists.

  “You are so beautiful,” he said under his breath. “So very beautiful.”

  She closed her eyes. Her body glowed with warmth and well-being and a vaguely unsatisfied need.

  “Leah?” He nudged her with his nose, teasing her into opening her eyes. “That was just a taste. I want to take you to the top of passion. I want you to see what it is like when you fall over the edge. Will you trust me?”

  At this point, she would follow him anywhere. He read her answer in the dazed expression of her eyes and smiled. He kissed her then. First the underside of her chin, then the pulse point of her neck. He nuzzled each breast, his tongue circling the nipples.

  His hands shaped and stroked her waist, before running down the smooth skin of her hips. “Your skin smells of honeysuckle,” he whispered. “It reminds me of spring and sunshine. It even tastes sweet.”

  As if to demonstrate what he meant, he tracked a line of kisses along her belly. Playfully, he dipped his tongue in her belly button. Leah gasped, then laughed at the ticklish sensation, burying her fingers in his dark, glossy hair. He resisted her efforts to pull his face back up where she could kiss him.

  And then his mouth went lower. Her breath caught in shock and delight. She’d never imagined he would dare do such a thing. His lips covered the point of pleasure his tongue had teased.

  Wicked, delicious desire flashed through her. He couldn’t, he shouldn’t! She started to protest, but when she opened her mouth it was to sigh. Her hands ceased their resistance. Instead, she grabbed handfuls of the bedcovers, searching for sanity. Her whole being centered on where his lips teased.

  Leah was lost in incoherent yearnings. They all whirled madly inside of her, spiraling upward and upward, carrying her with them.

  This was pagan, madness. It was glorious.

  And then, suddenly, she discovered the pinnacle. He’d wanted to take her to the top. She’d reached it. A point so fine, so sharp, so sweet, it made her delirious. The sensation of it whipped through her with the speed of a shooting star.

&nbs
p; “Devon!” she cried, right before she felt herself begin to fall over an imaginary precipice. But this wasn’t anything dangerous. Instead, she descended with the lilting dance of a leaf falling to the ground. Downward, downward, where she found peace.

  Her heart pounded against her chest, and yet inside, wave after wave of radiating warmth flowed through her arms, her legs…and her heart.

  Devon eased up beside her to kiss her nose. She returned his smile with a dreamy one of her own. “That was amazing.”

  “Wait until you see what it is like when we do it together.”

  “I can’t wait.”

  He laughed and flipped the bedcover over her nakedness, his arms hugging her close. “Tomorrow, Leah. Tomorrow.”

  “I think you are the wisest, most handsome man in the world,” she enthused.

  Devon’s smile turned wolfish. “I have my moments.”

  He would have kissed her, but a knock sounded at the door. “Damn.” He raised his voice. “Who is it?”

  “Rex. I need to talk to you.”

  Their time alone had ended. “Give me a moment,” Devon called. Then he lifted his eyebrows in askance toward Leah. She gave a small shrug. She didn’t know what he wanted. She and Rex barely spoke to each other when he was here. Lately though, he’d spent a great deal of time visiting his children at his country estate, although he rarely discussed them except to answer the most perfunctory of Leah’s questions.

  Leah slid off the bed and disappeared behind the privacy screen. Devon took a moment to straighten himself. He opened the door. “Yes, what is it?”

  “Grandfather wishes to see us,” Rex answered.

  “All right,” Devon said reluctantly. “I’ll be right there.”

  “Wait,” Rex said as Devon started to close the door, “I believe you should know, I overheard Julian Carrollton talking about you the other day.”