Falling In Love Again (Heroic Rogues Series) (27 page)

Before he saw it coming, she swung her hand toward his face. Her palm connected with his cheek in a loud, and painful, slap. Quickly, he grasped her hand, yanking her against him. She sucked in a breath as her head fell back, her gaze locking to his.

“Believe me,” he said, “I wanted to keep the distance, but I needed to speak with you.”

“Why?”

“I need to know…” He took a deep breath. He couldn’t ask her yet. For some reason, the words wouldn’t form in his mouth. Instead, his thoughts took a different turn. “Are you happy with your new husband?”

She cried out, pulled her hand away, and stepped back. Tears filled her eyes, tugging at his heart.

“Oh, so now you’re worried about that. I’d think you should have thought about it while I was your prisoner.” She wiped underneath her eyes. “But alas, it’s too soon to tell. I do not know him that well, but from what I do know of him, I think he will make a fine husband and I shall be extremely happy.”

A deep pain made his chest heavy, and he wished it would leave so he could breathe normally. “Forgive me, for asking, then.”

She bunched her hands by her side and stepped closer to him. Her glare could set a house on fire.

“I will not forgive you. How dare you send me a missive and ask to meet you here in private. I’m a married woman now. Surely, being seen with someone like you will ruin my reputation.”

He cocked his head and arched an eyebrow. “Yet you came to see me anyway.”

His sarcastic tone made liquid fill her eyes once again as a small quiver took over her body. She pierced him with her glare. Her chest lifted in a heavy breath.

“I have
you
to blame for that.” She bit out each word as if it was an effort to say.

“Me?”

Taking another deep breath, she nodded. “I wish to release you from my mind just as you have so easily released me from yours. That is why I came tonight.” Tears dripped from her eyes, but she didn’t swipe them away. “Tell me how, Hawk? How can I release you from my mind and my heart?”

He groaned and pulled her into his arms, burying his face in the crook of her neck. Oh, if she only knew he couldn’t release her, either. He suffered the same, cruel torment. Her scent filled his senses, and her soft skin against his lips created havoc with his control.

“Oh, my Isabelle,” he mumbled as he kissed her throat, gathering her tightly against his body.

“Hawk, please release me. I cannot think of you any longer.”

“If only I could.” He didn’t mean to say it, but the words breezed from his mouth on their own accord as he hungrily searched for her lips. When he found them, he kissed her deeply, meaningfully, while emotion stirred through his chest.

At first she stiffened, but within seconds, she slipped her arms around his waist and met his demanding mouth. He couldn’t get enough of her sweetness. He didn’t want to ever stop.

Quickly, he turned and pushed her against the wall, pressing his body to hold her there. Before he could do more, her hands came between them and she shoved him away.

“No!” She stepped out of his reach. “You cannot do this.” She shook her head. “I cannot do this, I’m married.”

Confusion filled his mind. He wanted her. Now. As Hawk. He knew she wanted him just as much. He should be relieved that she would stay true to her marriage vows, but the ache inside of him would not ease. “Isabelle, you cannot deny what’s between us.”

Her chest heaved in quick rhythms. “I cannot deny it, but I must. Against my will, I fell in love with you as your prisoner. I begged you to keep me, but you tossed me aside like dog scraps.” She sniffed and stepped closer until she touched his arm. “Tell me now. Do you love me? Will you return my feelings? Will you want me as your wife?”

He lifted his hands to rake his fingers through his hair, until realizing he wore a scarf and couldn’t remove it. He growled and paced in front of the window, flexing his hands by his side. The ache in his chest intensified. What was wrong? Something ailed him, and he wished it would leave him in peace.

Did he love her? Angrily, he shook his head. No. How could he love a spy—someone who purposely tried to kill him?

He faced her, his ragged breath coming out painfully now. Sadness coated her expression, but she lifted her stubborn chin and squared her shoulders. He shook his head. “No, Isabelle. I don’t love you.”

She nodded then turned and gathered her cloak closer. “Please, don’t try to contact me again.”

When she turned to leave, he grasped her arm, stopping her. “Before you go, I must know one thing.”

“What?” She glared, burning holes through him.

“Who do you work for?”

Her forehead creased as confusion filled her eyes. “I don’t quite understand your question.”

Frustrated, he released a heavy sigh. “I know you’re a spy, Isabelle. No need to hide the truth from me any longer. In fact, we could work together on this.”

Shaking her head, she pulled away from him, staring at him as if he’d grown two heads. “For the life of me, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Isabelle, you can tell me. I won’t give away your secret.”

She huffed. “Hawk, you have lost your mind. I’m not a spy, nor have I ever been one. And if I ever chose that profession, you’re the last person I’d work with.” She glared. “Now leave me alone!” She hurried out the door.

He should have stopped her, not because she didn’t answer his questions, but his arms ached to hold her. His heart clenched with the realization that he couldn’t give her what she wanted. Now he knew her true feelings. She had loved him. As Hawk. Why did knowing that make him hurt, more so now than earlier? His chest felt as if a horse sat upon it.

“Hawk releases you, my dear Isabelle,” he whispered, hoping it would make a difference the next time he saw her. But the next time he saw her would be as Lord Lockwood.

He yanked off his mask and scarf, finally able to push his fingers through his hair. When had his life become so confusing? And why couldn’t he handle it?

* * * *

What a fool she’d been. How could she have believed he would ever love her? It didn’t matter now, because tonight, she would give herself to her husband. No more living in a fantasy world. No more longing for a man who would never love her. The man she married had turned out to be a kind, generous person, who desired her. Since she now had closure with Hawk, she could give herself to Marcus.

None of the servants had questioned her when she left, and as she returned, they still said nothing. Just the way she wanted it. Gentry bowed then took her bonnet and cloak.

“Tell me, has my husband returned from his meeting?”

“Not yet, my lady.”

Isabelle sighed with relief. At least it gave her time to prepare. “Will you let me know when he does?”

“Certainly, my lady.”

“Thank you, Gentry.”

As she hurried up the stairs and spotted her maid, she ordered a bath. Not more than ten minutes later, her maid helped Isabelle undress and climb in the steamy tub, but she dismissed the servant. She wanted the evening to herself.

Closing her eyes, she leaned her head back, resting it on the rim. Lately, she’d been too emotional. Too trusting. Never would she allow herself to become so involved again. Her heart couldn’t take it.

Once the water turned cold, she climbed out and dried herself. With the towel wrapped around her, she rummaged through her
nightrails
to find one that might be alluring. She didn’t own anything that would work. The only stitch of clothing that could be considered captivating was the red silk gown Hawk had given her.

Did she have any other choice? She must tempt her husband. When she wore the gown for Hawk, she acted like a wanton. Perhaps that’s what she needed to do for tonight to accomplish her goal.
    
After dressing, she paced the floor, brushing her hair until it was smooth. Wasn’t Marcus home yet? She glanced at the clock. Ten thirty. His meeting should be over by now.

A knock came upon the door, making her jump. “Who is it?”

“It is Gentry, my lady.”

She hurried to the door and cracked it open. “Yes? Is my husband home now?”

“He’s in his study.”

“Thank you.”

She turned back into the room, pacing the floor again, flexing her hands as she walked. Now was the moment. She could do this. It must be done.

Before she changed her mind, she hurried out of her room and to his. She knocked once, then opened the door and peeked inside. Apparently, her husband was still in the study. Good. She needed to become accustomed to his room first.

Isabelle tiptoed inside and closed the door. Minimal light shone through the parted curtains on the window, and a lamp sat by his bed, burning low. As she scanned his chambers, she realized how her husband liked to flaunt his wealth. His bed—bigger than she’d seen before—stood in the middle of the room. But it was the several armoires and pieces of furniture littering the room that had her gasping in awe.

On impulse, she walked to the first armoire and opened it. His waist-jackets and overcoats hung neatly, looking as colorful as a peacock’s tail. Why did he have so many? Did he change clothes five times a day?

The next armoire held his shirts and breeches. She smoothed her hand over the sleeve of one of the shirts, breathing in his scent of leather. Definitely, he was a rider and loved his horses.

The last armoire was locked. She tugged on the doors, but it wouldn’t budge. Strange that he would lock his clothes.

She wandered around the room, brushing her fingers across furniture. Every other second, she glanced at the door, wondering when he’d come in. He’d better hurry. She might lose confidence and leave.

The floor creaked outside his room, and she froze near the far corner. The door opened and Marcus stepped through, closing it behind him. He wore a brightly colored overcoat and matching breeches. In his hand he clutched a bulky satchel. He yanked off his white wig and threw it to the nearest table, then marched to the locked armoire. By the stern set of his expression, she could tell his meeting didn’t go well.

Fear chilled her blood. She shouldn’t be here. Would she see her husband’s temper when he discovered her in his room?

He opened the armoire and threw the satchel inside, closing it before she could see what he deemed important to keep locked. With a growl, he whipped off his jacket and hung it across a chair, then strode to his bed. He plopped down on the edge, and with a heavy sigh that echoed through the room, covered his face, his elbows resting on his knees.

Isabelle’s chest tightened. Obviously, something had disturbed him greatly. She needed to leave. Posthaste. But how could she sneak out before he noticed her? She dared not breathe, let alone move. Not yet.

Suddenly, he jumped to his feet and slowly turned in a circle. His eyes widened. “Who’s here?”

Her heart stopped.
Oh, dear!
She could not get out of this now.

Taking a deep breath, she squared her shoulders and walked out of the shadows toward him. “It is I, my lord.”

An audible hiss came between his tight lips, but he didn’t say a word. Instead, his intent gaze told her what he must be thinking as he looked over her body. His mouth hung open, and his eyes widened.

Before she lost her nerve, she forced herself to move until she stood a mere arm’s length in front of him. Her heartbeat slammed against her chest, making it almost impossible to breathe without pain.

“Isabelle,” he sighed. “What are you doing here?”

She swallowed hard. “Please don’t be vexed with me, but—but I knew I must come see you. Tonight.”

“Why tonight?”

“I believe I’m ready,” she answered softly. She lifted her hand and cautiously placed it on his chest.

He grabbed it in one quick movement and yanked her against him, while an arm imprisoned her. “Why tonight?”

The pulse strumming through her body beat loudly in her ears, and she almost didn’t realize he had repeated his question. “I don’t understand. Is tonight a bad time for you?”

The longer he stared into her eyes, the more relaxed he became. The grip he had on her wrists loosened, as did the steel bind of his arm holding her close. His gaze roamed over her face to her hair, then down her neck. The pads of his thumbs caressed her collarbone.

“Isabelle… You take my breath away.”

A calm reassurance swept over her and she closed her eyes, smiling. If he kept stroking her with tenderness and murmuring such sweet words, she would definitely not have a problem giving herself to him.

He cupped her face and lowered his mouth. His soft kiss breezed over her lips, making her want more. Silently, she prayed she was making the right decision. This was the only way she could get rid of Hawk once and for all.

Chapter Eighteen

Marcus couldn’t believe fate. Somehow good fortune smiled upon him.

After the way the meeting ended with Hawk, he wondered if would ever get to hold Isabelle again. At first when he saw her in his room, wearing the red gown Hawk had given her, confused emotions twisted in his stomach. Hawk had hurt her terribly, so why did she choose that moment to give herself to Lord Lockwood?