Mark of The Marquess (The Valiant Love Regency Romance) (A Historical Romance Book)

by Deborah Wilson

  He stilled and held his breath.

  She couldn’t be implying that he search her body, could she?

  Would she actually welcome his touch?

  Of course not. It was only a joke, like the many he’d written in his letters.

  “I don’t bother performing tasks that are unnecessary,” he said, allowing himself to indulge in the moment.

  Her eyes crinkled, and she laughed again, right in his face. “Oh, well, some tasks have been known to have more than one objective.”

  He had to forcibly hold back a moan. It was easy to forget that his Kim was not inexperienced. She, unlike the many other women he’d riled with his words, would not blush at such heated flirtation.

  It would keep their marriage interesting, at least.

  He leaned away when he was certain he’d taken all he could stand for the moment.

  He’d barely resettled before she spoke again. “Do you have a dog?”

  He nodded. “A few, but they stay in the stables. Why? Do you want a dog?”

  “I believe one in the house would be lovely,” she said. “My mother would sneeze whenever they were near, so we never had one.”

  “Then we shall get one,” he said.

  Her eyes locked when his and then she slowly shook her head.

  “What?” he asked.

  “You’re going to ruin me,” she said. “I’ll be positively unbearable to anyone else if you continue to spoil me.”

  “Good, because I plan to keep you to myself anyway.” He watched, expecting her reaction to be fear.

  But instead, she laughed. “Oh, now I must find ways to spoil you in return.”

  “Keep laughing,” he told her. “Your happiness is gift enough.”

  Her eyes crinkled at the corners again. “There you have it. My ruin is complete.”

  The skin around James’ mouth stretched.

  Kim’s eyes fell to his lips. Her own fell. “You’re smiling.”

  He relaxed his face immediately. “You don’t like it.”

  “Of course, I like it, James. It’s a smile.” She leaned toward him. “Come on. Do it again.”

  He turned away. “No.”

  “Come, come,” she encouraged as her body moved closer. “I wish to see it again.”

  He put his hand on her shoulders. It was the only way to keep her back. “Kimberley. that’s not how it works. I can’t simply smile on command.” But he found himself smiling as she crowded him relentlessly, begging with what sounded like mindlessly impulsive urges.

  James’ body began to shake and then he barked with laughter.

  ∫ ∫ ∫

  1 6

  Kimberley stilled and let the sound of James’ enjoyment wash over her. No win had ever brought her this much joy. The sound was deep and pleasant. She wanted to hear it all day. Endlessly.

  This would be their marriage.

  When he was done, he placed her back on her side of the bench. “There. Are you happy now?”

  “Exceedingly.”

  He tucked the blankets back around her as though she was a child who could not do it herself. Then he moved away far too quickly for her liking.

  She liked him close. She liked the heat of his body. She’d enjoyed his laugh. She’d been so close to him that when it had erupted, she'd been able to soak it all in and had done so with abundant greed. As a girl, when she'd imagined marriage, her best dreams had never been quite this good.

  James watched her warily from the corner of his eye. She wondered at his thoughts, but knew he had no idea what she had in mind for him.

  She didn't sleep during the rest of the journey. Instead, she asked him more about London, the theatre mostly.

  James mentioned a few plays he'd seen in the past and, just like his letters, Kim found herself captivated with his every word. He had a way of describing the actresses, settings, and words that made it so Kim could imagine a night at Covent Garden with all its splendor.

  And she learned just how much James loved the theatre, the music mostly. He didn't dare try to sing any of the songs himself—no matter how much Kim teased—but he did speak to the feeling of the words.

  “But I've never heard a voice as pleasant as yours,” he confessed when the evening drew to a close.

  “Would you like me to sing to you?” Kim offered. Again, the night’s shadows clung to him, making it impossible for her to see his face.

  He groaned, a sound of longing and need. “Without question, but just as you are about my small acts of kindness, I can become the same about your voice. Don't spoil me. I may become an uncontrollable glutton.”

  She smiled. She wanted him to be a glutton but only for her.

  So, she sang, but the song was cut short when they arrived at their destination.

  They were helped into another inn. Once again, James showed her to her door.

  “I'll arrange for the ceremony first thing in the morning,” he said at the threshold. His eyes searched hers, his lips curving down at the corners.

  After what she'd thought had been a wonderful journey, she detested seeing the doubt in his face. She knew his thoughts now where she was concerned. He still had no faith in her. He worried she would run.

  When would he learn that she had no wish to leave him? That she'd chosen him long before they'd made an agreement?

  She took his hard hand and smiled. “Wake me. I'll come with you.”

  His expression remained pensive. “It's far too cold outside. Stay here. I'll arrange everything. There's no need for you to bear the weather.”

  She chuckled low. “James, I am not a delicate flower.”

  “But you are still mine to protect,” he countered. He pulled his hand away and took a step back. “Good night, Kim.”

  She didn’t like the distance he continued to put between them but was learning a great amount of patience where her marquess was concerned.

  For her wedding, Kim wore the best gown she had, while James dressed well in another black ensemble paired with a white shirt and cravat. The white brought out the warm color of his skin. His eyes held hers as they stood before the blacksmith.

  He stood stiffly through it all. She’d known he’d been worried about the witnesses and the blacksmith seeing his face. She’d tried to smile, to lessen his worry, but nothing had worked. He’d not relaxed until they were back in the carriage.

  “If you don’t mind and believe you can bear it, I would like to travel without stops,” he said the moment they’d settled onto their bench, the blanket covering her from the neck down. He didn’t wish to stay at another inn, which meant they would only stop to change horses before continuing on.

  She thought about their lack of a traditional wedding night. There would be no need for him to avoid seeking her out if they were not in beds.

  Not that she’d believed he would otherwise. He’d already made it clear that he wouldn’t, and she was saddened to find him seeming even more troubled after the ceremony. She hoped he was not regretting their wedding. She hoped he would calm once they were away from Scotland and the crowds.

  Needing to touch him just as much as she needed her next breath, she took his hand under the blanket. “Let’s not stop. I am anxious to see my new home and settle in.”

  He covered her hand with his other one, patting it gently, before turning to instruct the footman standing by the window.

  The touch seemed to settle both of them, the connection uniting them, calming James just enough that when she started a conversation, he joined in.

  Then slowly, perhaps an hour later, he relaxed and become the James she preferred. One who could joke and tease and even managed to smile on occasion.

  Yet as the manor finally came into view, Kim pulled in a breath. “It’s so grand.”

  The day was cloudy with the threat of more snow, yet managed to still be bright.

  Set on a hill in the distance, the tall majestic structure was done in a pale stone. She could only see it from the side thus far, but two f
loors with large windows hinted at high ceilings. Thick columns that held up the upstairs terrace struck out from the front and back.

  The road was covered with snow and a line of well-placed trees hinted at a courtyard she was sure was beautiful during the summer.

  They passed hidden pastures and quiet woodlands before getting to the house, and James pointed out that it was all theirs, here to explore at her leisure.

  They wouldn’t have to leave the property at all for their picnics come spring.

  James stiffened as their journey progressed onto the property. She was sitting close enough that their arms rubbed. She’d felt the muscles underneath his coat constrict but at her words of awe, he relaxed. “You like it.”

  “It’s beautiful.” She had to pry her eyes from the estate to turn to him. “Why wouldn’t I like it?”

  His black gaze was on her. “You seemed to imply that you preferred smaller spaces, like the home you grew up in.”

  She thought about her old home in regards to the one she would share with James. The humble property she’d grown up in could have fit inside this one at least six times over. “I enjoyed my house because I felt safe there.” Seeking his hand again and finding it warm, she said, “I no longer need a building to make me feel safe. You do that for me.”

  He’d not become discourteous since they’d married. In fact, as if possible, he’d become more considerate of her and continued to treat her as though she were the most precious thing in the world.

  James’ thumb rubbed over the back of her knuckles, his breath shaky. “I will show you everything once we are inside.”

  She smiled at him and restrained herself from reaching out to touch his face or run her fingers through the dark hair that fell around his shoulders.

  Yet all she had to do was recall the way he’d withdrawn the first time she’d done it. And the warning he’d given her about himself afterward.

  Had he truly been so callous that people had called him Denshallow instead of Denhallow? The man she knew wasn’t that way at all, yet circumstances as they were, it made sense that he would change.

  But did he think he should be punished forever because of it? Kim didn’t think so.

  They rode silently, continuing to hold hands, as the carriage finally turned down the road that went parallel to the courtyard. She noticed statues and snow-covered bushes beyond the trees but little else was visible.

  Then they made it to the house.

  James helped her out and then rushed her inside where the air was much warmer.

  The foyer was like a long gallery that forced everyone to take in its beauty before they could climb the stairway that began at the back of the elongated hall.

  The floors were a pale marble. Faux columns and curved walls held up the railing for the floor above and, just as she’d imagined, the ceilings were tall.

  Still clinging to James’ hand, she walked forward. Her steps were loud in the quiet.

  She took in the chandeliers, the paintings, the limestone, the arched gilded entryways. “My mother would love it here,” she said, recalling all the many times Lady Peckshire had complained about their home and compared it to those of their friends’.

  “And you?” he asked. “Do you like it?”

  She did. “It’s beautiful.” Yet if James hadn’t been with her, if he hadn’t been holding her hand, she’d have felt otherwise. Yes, it was beautiful, but she thought of the time that James had lived here alone and knew it had been lonely.

  He’d be lonely no longer.

  ∫ ∫ ∫

  1 7

  James watched Kim as she studied her new surroundings. She seemed to take everything in with great care, and he was content to watch her do it for as long as it took.

  “Who designed the house?” she asked while they walked into one of the main drawing rooms. The outer wall was mostly windows with long velvet drapes on either side. Large fireplaces burned at the parallel walls. Portraits were on the inner wall.

  The morning light made her warm skin glow. Her expression reflected quiet wonder yet deep peace. Her gaze was soft upon everything.

  Including him.

  He stood some feet away. His hands were at his back, working to keep himself from crowding her now that they were out of the carriage.

  During the ride, he’d grown used to breathing in her air; now they both had room to roam, and he was sure Kim would need time to adjust to her surroundings.

  And adjust to him.

  “Are you asking after its architect or the interior design?” he asked.

  She turned toward him, her shoes a soft click on the hardwood, echoing quietly through the room. “Both.”

  “I don’t know,” he said honestly.

  Her eyes widened. “You don’t know who designed the house?”

  He shrugged and looked around. “I’m sure the details are mentioned in one of my father’s books, but I never cared to look for it myself.” Not even after he’d resigned himself to forever being alone had he bothered to look into the manor’s finer details. Such information was usually what an owner learned simply to impress those he invited over and since James had had no intention of ever having guests...

  Kim started toward him. “You’ve no clue where this furniture came from?”

  “Indeed, I do not, though I suppose I should learn now.” If he was to host her family, he would have to.

  Even the thought of seeing her family again bothered him. How he wished he could be a man they approved of, one who wasn’t scarred inside and out.

  Kim didn’t stop until she was right before him. “We’ll have to learn about it together then.”

  He looked up when Byron came in. “Lady Macy has sent word that she will arrive within the hour.”

  James stiffened.

  Kim’s eyes widened, and she turned to him. “Did you send word that we were here?”

  “No.” He’d decided to wait before informing Lady Macy about Kim’s arrival. He’d wanted Kim to himself for a few days first, giving her a chance to adjust… or not adjust and request to leave him.

  Kim pressed her fingers to her lips. “My family must have written then.”

  That made sense. “She’s likely been waiting for word of my return for days now.”

  She touched his arm. Her expression was a reflection of all the fear he felt. She turned away and furrowed her brows.

  He could only imagine her thoughts. Would she be terribly ashamed of being seen with him in front of her aunt?

  “Do you think she’ll be terribly upset that you read her letter?” She feared for him?

  “I hope not. Perhaps, I should make myself more presentable. I should cut my hair.”

  “No.” She turned to him, her expression troubled. Then the hand that had been on his arm was suddenly gripping his locks. “Don’t cut it.” She brushed the strands, but her fingers didn’t touch his skin. The frown left her features. “I like your hair.”

  Then he’d never cut it, though that was not what he said. “She’s seen it at this length before anyway.”

  He glanced up to see Byron still standing by the door. Their eyes caught and then the footman looked away. “Have Cook prepare,” he told the boy.

  Byron left quickly.

  Kim’s hand left his hair, far too soon for his liking. “How do you know each other again?” She moved to one of the couches by the fireplace.

  He turned to face her. “We’re neighbors. One of her servants could have easily seen our carriage coming down the main road we share.” He’d not have been surprised to learn Lady Macy had forced a servant to do just that, sit by the window and wait.

  What had Kim’s family said about him?

  Had they mentioned how much of a beast he’d been? They’d likely asked Lady Macy to step in and see to Kim’s protection and happiness, certain being married to a monster like James would be pure torture.

  “And you’re friends?” Kim asked.

  “Yes.” At least, they had been befo
re he’d kidnapped the lady’s great-niece.

  Kim frowned. “James, why are you standing all the way over there? Come sit next to me. You’re all but forcing me to break my neck to look at you.”

  He moved quickly. “I didn’t know you were in pain.” He sat.

  She moved close and smiled. “I didn’t actually mean I was in pain, James. I simply didn’t like how far you were. Are you having regrets about me being here?”

  He kept himself from leaning forward in order to emphasize his words. “That is a ridiculous question. Never ask it again.”

  “All right. Tell me about your scars,” she said. The sudden switch in the conversation made him lose focus.

  As did the fact that she was moving closer. “I vaguely remember reading about the incident in the papers. Were the other stolen lords hurt as you were?”

  “No, just me, and that is all I wish to say on the matter.”

  She blinked. “But as your wife, don’t you believe I should know?”

  “No, because what happened to me is no one’s concern. If others wish to know, tell them to ask me.” And he knew they wouldn’t dare. James had made certain that most of the ton thought him half mad after escaping his capture. It was yet another reason he couldn’t go to London. They would remember when the scars were fresh and the night when James attacked a duke he’d thought to have been involved with his capture.

  “So, you will not share your pain with me?” she asked quietly.

  He did lean forward then, stopping but a breath away. “I will work very hard to keep you from all pain, including mine.”

  Her next words startled him. “And what if keeping me from your pain causes me pain?”

  * * *

  Kim watched as James narrowed his gaze, seeming to have difficulty understanding what she’d said. “Impossible,” he finally declared. “No woman should ever hear about what I’ve been through.”

  He sat stiff as a statue, only his dark eyes seeming to be filled with life.

  In the white morning sunlight that filled the room, his hair gleamed, as did his eyes and the scars that ran down his face. His eyes, so dark, seemed to consume the light. Small reflections gathered like stars within them. He’d stayed close enough for her to see them.