Tall, Dark and Royal

by Vanessa Kelly

  Even loving Dominic as much as she did, it still astounded her that sexual relations could be so . . . joyful. For her, it had always seemed an ugly, shameful business and not simply because of her past. For years, she’d cared for girls who’d been treated as objects of convenience, her entire life devoted to repairing the damage inflicted by careless, callous, and even violent men.

  She should have known it would be different with Dominic. Despite everything, he still loved her, even though most men would have seen her as damaged goods.

  When his hand trailed down her spine to her bottom, she twitched. The contrast between the heat of his skin and the cool air of the bedroom flowing over their naked bodies soon had her shivering. With a soothing murmur, he slowly eased out of her—Chloe had to repress a sigh at that—tucked her against his side, and pulled up the bed linens.

  As she lay there, cocooned in warmth, a ridiculous image of a kitten curling up between the paws of a giant mastiff popped into her head, and she couldn’t repress a little snort. Dominic was certainly big, strong, and protective, but she was far from defenseless. She’d learned long ago that the world was a harsh place and a woman was best served by ensuring her independence and security as much as possible. That philosophy formed the basis of her work and, indeed, her life.

  Dominic slipped a finger under her chin and tilted her head up to meet his heavy-lidded gaze. Muted passion warmed the dazzling green of his eyes along with what was surely a great deal of masculine satisfaction.

  “I hope I’m not the object of your amusement, Mrs. Piper,” he drawled. “Such disrespect will cause me to sink into a terrible melancholy.”

  She laughed out loud. “I doubt there is very little that could wound the confidence of the high and mighty Sir Dominic Hunter.”

  “I’ll high and mighty you, madam,” he growled, tipping her over onto her back. His kiss, as heated as any they’d shared, left her gasping.

  “I swear, Dominic,” she managed when he let her up for air, “I can’t think when you do that.”

  Now it was his turn to grin. “That’s the point, Chloe.”

  But then his smile faded. He propped himself up on one elbow while his other arm rested on her stomach, keeping her gently pinned. He looked concerned, and she lifted an eyebrow in silent question.

  “Are you all right?” he asked.

  “Yes, I’m fine. You needn’t worry about me,” she assured him.

  “I do worry about you. Practically every minute of every day since you’ve come back into my life.”

  She didn’t like the sound of that. “I’m grateful for your help, Dominic, but I’m well able to take care of myself.”

  Now it was his turn to raise his eyebrows. She couldn’t blame him for his skepticism, since crime lords were beyond anything she was accustomed to dealing with. But the last thing she wanted was to become yet another item on his long list of concerns.

  “I’ve been looking after myself for a long time, Dominic, and taking care of others who needed my help too.”

  He brushed a kiss on the tip of her nose. “I’m aware of that, sweet, and you have my sincere respect and admiration for all you’ve accomplished.”

  Oh, dear. That was even worse than him worrying about her. Having Dominic condescend to her, however unconsciously, made her mentally cringe.

  “But you’re not alone anymore,” he carried on, oblivious to her growing consternation. “You have a family now, a son and a daughter-in-law. And,” he said, with pointed intent, “you have me.”

  Her innate sense of caution stirred. “What exactly do you mean?”

  He went slack-jawed for a few seconds, but then the lines of his face turned imperious. She’d come to recognize that expression as one he adopted when about to start issuing orders.

  “I mean that as your future husband I will support and take care of you, and I will deal with any problems you encounter from now on.”

  Chloe froze. Leg-shackling Dominic had not been on her mind when she’d started this. She’d only wanted to be with him—to feel happy and cherished for once. To feel like a woman in love.

  But marriage? There were so many complications involved in marriage she didn’t know where to start. Fool that she was, she should have known that it was exactly what Dominic had wanted and planned for all along. That was another thing she’d learned about him—he always had a plan.

  Too flustered to address that subject head-on, she fastened on his second point. “What do you mean you’ll deal with my problems from now on?”

  “The problems associated with your charitable work, of course,” he said, stroking her cheek.

  She forced herself not to nuzzle into his hand. “I wasn’t aware I had any problems with my work, aside from the temporary one posed by the Campworths. But once that’s resolved, I will be returning to Camberwell.”

  His eyes narrowed with a touch of irritation. Still, his touch was gentle as his hand cupped her cheek. “It’s entirely reasonable for you to wish to oversee your Camberwell establishment, but it’s not practical for us to live there. If you don’t think my town house in London is large enough, we can look around for something bigger, perhaps in Mayfair.”

  “Why would I want to live in London?” she blurted out.

  “Because that is where your husband lives, of course.”

  She pushed his hand away and sat up, clutching the bedclothes to her chest. Dominic stayed propped on his elbow, his big body relaxed, but the hard set to his mouth and jaw relayed a different message.

  “Dominic, you are making a great many assumptions. Leaving aside the question of marriage . . .” The dangerous spark in his gaze had her stumbling over her words. “That aside, I have no intention of giving up Camberwell and moving to London. First of all, my work is too important to me, and second of all, I couldn’t possibly live in the city.”

  She ended with a wave of her arms, which caused the linens to slip and expose her breasts. When Dominic’s gaze dropped down and lingered, she struggled to cover herself up. The fact that he had whipped a hand over to keep the linens trapped around her waist wasn’t helping.

  “Your work is too dangerous, Chloe. The last few months have clearly demonstrated that,” he said, sounding somewhat distracted. “I’ll find someone to manage the day-to-day operations in Camberwell. I have a few retired agents who would fit the bill quite nicely and would enjoy the work.”

  She glared at him as she gave up the struggle for the bed linens. “Truly, Dominic, hardened spies managing an establishment for vulnerable girls and their babies?”

  He shrugged as he ran a finger over her belly trying to delve lower under the bunched fabric.

  “Stop that!” She planted a hand on his chest and shoved him onto his back. Then she scrambled out of bed, casting a desperate look around for her dress. It lay in a crumpled heap at the foot of the bed, so she snatched up Dominic’s dressing gown from the chair beside her and wriggled into it. She had to wrap the belt twice around her waist to secure it.

  By the time she was decent, Dominic had pulled himself up to a sitting position, a scowl on his features and his arms crossed over his brawny chest. He obviously wasn’t the least bit concerned about his near nakedness, since the bedclothes fell low on his hips, exposing his flat belly and the arrow of dark hair leading to his groin. He looked so sinfully enticing—even with that thunderous brow—that Chloe had to fight the urge to throw off the dressing gown and crawl on top of him.

  “Chloe, I’m certain we can find someone suitable to take up your work in Camberwell. I don’t understand the problem.”

  His perplexed frown signaled that he truly didn’t understand how delicately she managed things. It had taken years to develop channels of communication and a method of operation that preserved the privacy of the girls who came to her, protecting them and their babies and helping them to move back to their old lives or establish new ones. Strangers simply could not take it over—not without probably destroying everything she’d wo
rked so hard to build.

  But there was no point in explaining that further since, for Dominic, that wasn’t the issue. For him, the issue was their marriage.

  She mentally composed herself. “Dominic, it’s very kind of you to offer marriage—”

  He actually growled at her turn of phrase.

  Chloe ignored him. “But I don’t think you’ve considered why that course of action is either desired or in your best interest.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “You are a magistrate,” she said patiently, “and a highly placed member of the government. You know it’s not appropriate for a man of your position and standing to marry a woman like me.”

  His expression suggested she’d taken up howling at the moon. “Chloe, I’m the son of a butcher. There isn’t a drop of noble blood in my veins.”

  “You were raised at court and you have the ear of both the prime minister and the Prince Regent.” When he started to object she held up a hand. “You can protest all you want, Dominic, but you know it’s true. I am not the sort of woman you should marry, either by inclination or breeding.”

  “May I remind you,” he said through clenched teeth, “that you are the daughter and granddaughter of gentlemen. Your maternal grandfather was a well-regarded magistrate and one of your great-uncles was a dean at Cambridge. When it comes to breeding, yours is significantly more distinguished than mine.”

  “And I am also a disgraced woman with an illegitimate child.”

  “Whose son has royal blood running through his veins.”

  “I don’t need you to remind me of that,” she snapped. When his eyes widened at her tone, she sighed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude.”

  “You need never apologize to me, my love.” His stern features softened. “Why don’t you come sit with me,” he said in a coaxing voice. “There’s no reason to stand there—your feet will get cold.”

  Oh, she was tempted, but she knew he was trying to wheedle her into agreeing with him. She regretfully shook her head.

  Dominic ran a frustrated hand over his jaw. “Chloe, no one need ever know who you are or that Griffin is your son. As far as the world is concerned you are Mrs. Piper, a wealthy, respectable widow from Leeds who engages in charitable work. We can say you’re an old friend of mine, which is certainly not a lie.”

  “But the rest of it is. Are you suggesting that we lie on the marriage license or to the minister who would conduct the ceremony?”

  He waved that obstacle away. “Of course not. But there is more than one vicar who owes me a favor and would be happy to keep our confidence.”

  “I’m sure,” she responded dryly. “But you must realize that the only reason my fictional persona withstands scrutiny is because I live so quietly. As the wife of Sir Dominic Hunter, I would be vulnerable to speculation and gossip.”

  When his nostrils flared, he looked rather like a bull contemplating a charge. Dominic was the kindest, most generous man in the world, but he was also one of the most stubborn she’d ever encountered. He’d been that way as a child, as well. It had helped him survive the trials of life in the royal household, but it was a formidable obstacle for anyone trying to win an argument with him.

  “For heaven’s sake,” she said, “I am sure there is more than one person in the world who would try to use my past against you. They might even try to blackmail you.”

  He looked mortally offended. “Anyone foolish enough to try would fare very poorly, I assure you.”

  “No doubt, but the damage to your career and to our lives would be considerable. I truly think you underestimate the level of gossip and disgrace such a scandal could generate. How could our marriage hope to survive that?”

  Well, that tears it.

  By the look on his face—and the fact that he’d thrown back the covers and leapt from the bed—Chloe had finally pushed him too far. His big feet thudded to the floor and he stalked up to her like an outraged Zeus descending from Mt. Olympus.

  A very naked Zeus.

  “Chloe, you have nothing to be ashamed of in any part of your life. You are the best woman in England, and the person who says otherwise will regret it.”

  She tore her gaze from his magnificent, half-aroused body, fixing it somewhere over his shoulder. “I cannot possibly have a rational conversation until you cover yourself.”

  He barked out a disbelieving laugh but obliged her by snatching his breeches from the floor and yanking them over his long legs. Chloe forced herself to avert her gaze when he arranged himself and buttoned up his fall.

  “There, does that assuage your offended sensibilities?” he asked sarcastically.

  If the subject hadn’t been so serious, Chloe would have been tempted to laugh. It seemed farcical to stand around half-naked, snapping at each other like spoiled schoolchildren.

  “Thank you,” she said, trying to recapture a shred of dignity. “Now, as I was saying—”

  “Chloe, just hush a moment,” Dominic interrupted in a gentle voice. He took her hand and raised it to his lips. That simple touch, knowing what she now did about the pleasure he could bestow, sent a shiver coursing through her.

  “I love you,” he said. “Nothing could ever change that or diminish my feelings for you. I truly believe that you’re unduly worried about what might happen if . . . when we marry. Of course there is always the possibility of discovery, but I believe the risk to be minimal. Besides,” he added with an encouraging smile, “even if your past were to be discovered, I can manage it. We can manage it. It’s old history, my darling. No one will really care.”

  She peered at him, anxiety ghosting through her like an icy wind. Dominic had more insight into the ton than she did, but she was hardly naive in the ways of scandal in the highest reaches of society. News of London gossip was an invariable fact of life even in a quiet village like Camberwell. Dominic would surely stand fast against even the ugliest of it, loyal to her to the end. But that sort of loyalty, combined with his pig-headed conviction that his power made him all but untouchable, could be disastrous for his career and their relationship.

  “And what of my feelings?” she asked, trying a different tack. “Because of your position in society, I would be an object of interest and scrutiny. How am I to live with that, given my situation?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t understand. I already told you that I would shield you from ton gossip.”

  “I’m not just talking about them.”

  “Then who?”

  “The one who hurt me. And never mind how I might react once the father of my child recognizes me.” Dominic flinched, but she kept ruthlessly on. “How will he react once he discovers you’ve married me? Unless your relationship with Prince Ernest has undergone a dramatic improvement since the last time I saw you together, I can’t imagine he would look upon our marriage with favor.”

  “Do you think I care for a moment what that bastard thinks?” he growled. “It’s none of his damn business.”

  His response mystified her. “Dominic, he’s the brother of the Prince Regent. He can make a great deal of trouble for us.”

  His eyes sparked green fire. “Ask me if I care.”

  Chloe wanted to shake him. “Tell me, how do you bear it? You and Ernest always loathed each other. How can you stand his company, or has your enmity diminished over time?”

  She hated pushing him like this, but it was the only way. He had to realize how impossible this was.

  “We avoid each other whenever possible,” he said in a cold voice. “It’s not that hard to do.”

  “Well, I’m afraid I don’t possess your ability to pretend that the past didn’t happen.”

  His head jerked back as if she had slapped him. “I may not show it, Chloe, but my loathing for the man has colored a great deal of my life. After losing you, encountering him on a regular basis has been an ugly cross to bear. If he wasn’t a royal, I would have beaten him to a pulp long ago.”

  Turning from
her, he stalked to the fireplace. He braced a hand on the mantel and bowed his head to stare into the flames. Chloe followed, a piercing regret doing its best to crowd out the joy she’d found in his love.

  Carefully, she rested a hand on his back. “Dominic, you move in the highest circles of the land, which would mean that I, on occasion, would have to as well. Even if Prince Ernest didn’t recognize me, would you force me to keep company—however brief and formal—with the person who ruined me?”

  He cut a sharp glance over his shoulder. “I would never force you to do anything. You don’t have to associate with anyone you don’t want to.”

  “Unless I lived the life of a recluse, I don’t see how it could be managed. And there are others to consider besides ourselves. What of Griffin? All your hard work to restore his reputation would be destroyed if our connection was discovered.”

  Under her hand, his muscles bunched with tension. “I refuse to accept such a notion. Besides, Griffin is the last person to give a damn about that sort of thing.”

  “Perhaps. But Justine certainly would care, as would I. The gossip about their marriage has yet to die down even as it is.” She removed her hand. “Dominic, I cannot and will not bring disgrace onto you or my family. The very thought of it makes me ill.”

  When he turned to her, his face was stark with dismay. It killed her to have to disappoint him again, but it was far preferable to the havoc their marriage would wreak upon his life.

  Dominic grasped her shoulders. “Chloe, do you love me?”

  The pleading look in his eyes had her choking back tears. “Of course I do.”

  “And did finally acknowledging that love—being with me—make you happy?”

  Happiness . . . something she hadn’t felt for years. Not until Dominic and her son came back into her life. “Yes,” she whispered.

  The tenderness in his lopsided smile made her heart throb with a harrowing combination of elation and sorrow.

  “Then what is there to be afraid of?” he asked.