His Wicked Embrace (34 page)

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Authors: Adrienne Basso

BOOK: His Wicked Embrace
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“Damien told me he saw Emmeline infrequently in the year preceding her death. Why would she feel the need to run from the earl? She rarely saw him. Their marriage was considered successful by society's standards.” Isabella sat back in her chair, her arms on the rests. Her eyes grew luminous. “Perhaps Emmeline had a lover.”
“Never!” Lord Poole slammed his hand down on the table with such force that the dishes rattled. “Emmeline swore to me she had only been intimate with her husband. A great part of her reluctance to accept my affections was due to her lack of sexual experience.”
His words puzzled Isabella. She studied him carefully. His anger had gone, and the wistfulness in his expression sent a tingle of alarm down Isabella's spine. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “What are you saying, Thomas?”
“I loved her!” he shouted. “I would never have hurt her, never have forced her. I kissed her one night. A full, deep kiss of passion. It was glorious. But she said it frightened her. She began avoiding me. She refused to be alone with me. She told me I was being hopelessly fanciful to believe there would ever be any sort of romantic involvement between us. She said it was sordid and ugly.” He lifted his head and stared at Isabella. “But it was not. How can love be ugly?”
Isabella closed her eyes and clenched the arms of the chair. It was impossible. Certainly she was misunderstanding Lord Poole's remarks. What he implied was indecent, unnatural. It went against all the laws by which any civilized society lived. Physical love between a brother and sister? Isabella shuddered.
“I agonized when Emmeline disappeared,” Lord Poole admitted, hanging his head. “I knew she had run from me, but she couldn't go far. Not without money. I was filled with pain and regret. I thought she had drowned in the lake, although Saunders refused to believe it. I never dreamed she had become trapped inside that horrible passageway. My poor little angel.”
He looked up at Isabella and his expression brightened considerably. “We will speak no more of these distressing occurrences. It is all part of the past. Now I have you, fair Bella. Nearly the image of my lovely Emmeline. I vow I shall do everything within my power to make you happy. We will share a wonderful life together.”
Isabella's stomach lurched, and the room spun wildly for a moment. She gazed at him, tense and terrified, her mind whirling in a desperate attempt to formulate a plan of escape. She must get away!
“I'm feeling rather tired, Thomas,” Isabella said anxiously. “I'd like to retire for the evening.”
“It's barely nine o'clock,” Lord Poole protested. He rose to his feet and came to stand in front of Isabella's chair. “ 'Tis far too early to go to bed.”
With an effort, Isabella held her tongue. His presence surrounded her, suffocated her. She could feel the heat of his body, though they touched nowhere.
“I'm going to bed,” she announced, standing up abruptly.
He took a step forward, deliberately blocking her exit. Lord Poole's face blurred before her eyes, and Isabella suddenly felt as if there were no air left in the room. There was a buzzing in her head, and she feared she would faint if she did not get away.
Thomas touched her arm and Isabella screamed. She could not help it. Her mind filled with vulgar images, and her flesh crawled at his touch. She wrenched her arm free and backed away from him. She was cold with horror.
“Do not touch me,” Isabella said with jaws so tense, she could barely speak the words.
Lord Poole frowned with incomprehension. “What is wrong, sweet Bella? Are you unwell?”
Isabella was barely able to contain a second scream. She clenched her hands into fists and tried to form a response. Thomas stood in front of her, blocking the exit. Her eyes remained riveted on the heavy wooden door. Somehow she must escape.
Then, miraculously, the door swung open. Isabella nearly collapsed with relief, waiting anxiously to see the innkeeper or barmaid in the doorway. She was saved. She moved forward gratefully, then abruptly halted. Her mouth dropped open in astonishment. “Damien!”
The earl had ridden hard for hours, and his appearance reflected that fact. Sweat lined his brow and his coattails were splattered with mud from the wet roads. Isabella doubted there had been a time in her life when she had been more gratified to see anyone.
Their eyes met, and Damien looked at her measuringly for a long moment. Lord Poole's back was toward the door, but it was obvious from the grim set of his mouth that he had heard Isabella's identification of the intruder. Isabella made a move to walk around her brother toward Damien.
Lord Poole pushed Isabella aside with such force that she lost her footing and landed in a heap upon the floor.
“How dare you lay a hand on her!” Damien bellowed with rage.
“I will not allow you to take her from me,” Lord Poole hissed, pivoting on his booted heel to face Damien. “Isabella is mine.”
Thomas hurtled himself at the earl, his teeth bared in a savage snarl. Cold hatred was etched on his face as he swung his closed fist viciously at Damien's head. Damien successfully dodged the blow and managed to catch hold of Lord Poole's arm.
Spinning his adversary around, Damien threw a punch at him. Isabella, sprawled on the ground behind the men, watched with fascination as the earl's fist landed squarely on her brother's lip. Thomas's head snapped back, and he staggered sideways but remained on his feet. Blood dripped steadily onto his silver waistcoat. He seemed unaware of it.
Lunging forward, Thomas swung again at the earl, and this time his fist caught Damien on the jaw. Isabella winced at the sickening crunch of bone and flesh. Damien weaved a bit, shook his head vigorously, then neatly sidestepped a second punch in the nick of time.
“Stop it! Both of you!” Isabella's cries were ignored by both men.
Damien's fist connected with Thomas's jaw. He fell back under the impact. Struggling to steady himself, Lord Poole reached out and grabbed the edge of Damien's coat. The earl lost his footing, and both men toppled to the floor. They landed heavily, and Isabella could hear their grunts and groans as they rolled on the floor.
They separated, both men scrambling to their feet. The fight resumed, with each man landing several more strategic blows. Then, in a flurry of movement, Damien hit Thomas with five quick jabs, two to the head and three to the stomach.
Isabella saw Thomas's legs buckle under him, and he fell to the floor in a heap. Damien stood over Lord Poole, breathing hard, his fists poised and ready to continue the fight. Lord Poole groaned and rolled onto his back. He made no move to get up.
Crawling over on her hands and knees, Isabella crouched beside Lord Poole's inert form. The bleeding had slowed on his upper lip, but it was puffed and swollen. The flesh around his left eye was bruised and discolored, and his nose was bent at an odd angle. Isabella decided it was probably broken.
“ 'Tis over, Thomas,” she whispered.
“Bella.” Lord Poole struggled to lift his head.
“No, don't speak, Thomas. Just listen.” Isabella swallowed convulsively. This was her chance to set things to rights, and she seized upon it. “I am in love with Damien, and I am going to marry him.” She held up a staying hand when Lord Poole opened his mouth. “No, don't say anything. I will marry the earl, and there is nothing you can do to prevent it.”
Isabella's eyes narrowed as Lord Poole placed his hands over his ears to stop the sound of her voice. She pried his fingers away and squeezed his hands.
“Hear me well, Thomas,” Isabella commanded. “I will never acknowledge the kinship between us. I demand that you keep yourself out of my sight and out of my life. You will leave England as soon as possible. Forever.”
Isabella watched the agitation change to defiance in Lord Poole's face.
“You will leave,” Isabella repeated, her voice turning hard, “for if you do not, I will tell the whole world the truth about Emmeline's death and the part you played in her suffering. The scandal and malicious gossip will be beyond endurance, Thomas. You will be ostracized, shunned completely by the society you so admire.”
“Why, Bella? Why are you so hateful?” Lord Poole's voice was agonized.
“I do this for my sister,” Isabella replied, her expression stiff. “To bring her a small measure of justice.” She cleared her throat and continued. “Before you leave England, you will cancel the mortgage debts you hold against Whatley Grange. That is the price of my silence, Thomas. Do you agree to my terms?”
There was a long silence. Isabella fixed her eyes on Lord Poole's ashen face and waited expectantly for his reply.
“It will be as you say, Isabella.” Looking utterly dejected, Lord Poole turned his head away from her.
Isabella hardened her heart against his suffering. “I expect you to be gone from this inn by daybreak. Farewell, Thomas.”
Emotionally drained, Isabella staggered to her feet. She blindly reached out a hand for Damien. He caught her by the arms and pulled her roughly against him. Isabella closed her eyes and rested her forehead against his broad, muscular chest.
“Please, Damien,” she whispered softly, “take me away from here.”
Chapter Twenty-seven
Damien carried Isabella up the inn staircase and into her bedchamber. She did not protest. He kicked the door shut with his booted heel, then gently placed her on her feet.
“Thank you, Damien.”
Isabella's tone was quiet and contained. Damien tilted his head to one side and looked closely at her face. The paleness had eased, but her eyes were still wide and pain-filled. His heart ached, knowing she had suffered, even though he did not yet fully understand what had occurred. He watched Isabella with concerned eyes as she crossed the small chamber and stood at the window, staring out into the darkness, her body turned toward it.
Desperately needing to touch her, to somehow assuage her pain, Damien stepped forward and circled Isabella's small waist with both arms. She leaned back against him, and he heard her drawing a deep breath.
“I don't want any secrets between us, Damien. Yet I know not how I can repeat the unspeakable things I have learned tonight.”
Damien forced himself to rein in his impatience. When he entered the private dining parlor, he had felt the tension gripping the room, had seen the fear etched on Isabella's face. But he had been ignorant of the cause.
Finally, in a halting voice, Isabella revealed the truth of Emmeline's death. At first Damien was certain he had misheard, but when Isabella haltingly repeated the tale, the shock within him turned to pure horror.
Poor Emmeline. How lonely and bewildered she must have felt, having no one in whom to confide this horrible secret. Damien's stomach revolted at the image of Poole and Emmeline together.
“I should have killed him,” Damien snarled. “I should have beaten him senseless.” ,
Isabella lightly touched the forearm that was wrapped about her waist. “No, Damien. I don't want this ugliness to have any more power over our lives. Thomas has agreed to leave England. I pray that in time we will be able to forgive him.”
“I hope I shall be able to forgive myself,” Damien said, “for failing to protect Emmeline when she needed me most.”
“Don't blame yourself. Emmeline made the choice not to tell you what was happening. You cannot be held accountable for what you did not know.” Isabella turned around to face Damien. “Goodness, your jaw is turning purple. Does it hurt a great deal?”
“I barely feel a thing,” he answered honestly.
She gave him a watery smile and placed her arms around his neck. He rested his hands comfortably on her hips. He found himself grinning back at her.
Leaning into him, Isabella said softly, “I want to marry you, Damien. Will you still have me?”
“Oh, I'll have you, Isabella,” Damien replied with a wide smile. The warm contentment burgeoning in Damien's chest spread through his entire body like wildfire. “And I vow I shall keep you.”
Isabella's smile broadened, and her face brightened with unmistakable joy. Damien's heart somersaulted and a deep, healing peace seeped into his soul.
He grazed the skin of her brow with his thumb, then ran the palm of his hand over the curve of her cheek. Her skin felt soft and silky beneath his touch. Cupping her beloved face in his hands, Damien bent down. He kissed her eyelids, her temple, her chin and throat, then finally claimed her sweet mouth.
Her lips were trembling, but they parted willingly. He pushed the tip of his tongue inside and caressed her moist flesh. Isabella made a deep sound in her throat and leaned closer. She returned the kiss, her mouth ravishing his tenderly, igniting his senses. He tasted her urgent sweetness and understood her need, for it matched his own.
Damien's hands stroked her back and shoulder, then moved forward to capture her breast. With thumb and forefinger, he gently pinched the nipple of her left breast. It peaked and hardened instantly, and Isabella moaned softly.
With a fervent effort at control, Damien guided Isabella to the edge of the bed. Three lit candles illuminated the small chamber, and Damien was glad of the light, He wanted to see her face when he made love to her. He wanted to watch her eyes darken with pleasure, her face strain with delight as he brought her to release. He wanted to gaze deeply into her violet eyes when he proclaimed his undying love for her.
He quickly removed his jacket, waistcoat, cravat, and boots before coming to the bed. He applied a slight pressure to her shoulder, and Isabella obediently lay back against the pillows. He slid his arm beneath her back and pulled her against his chest. Against his heart.
She curled close to him and kissed his shoulder. He smiled. He could not remember ever feeling such happiness. He clasped his arms tightly around her back and rolled over on top of her. He kissed her again, then came up on his elbows so he could look down at her. His eyes roamed her beautiful face, and he delighted in the sweet yearning he saw in her eyes.
“I love you, Isabella,” he whispered softly. “I love you beyond reason.”
“Oh, Damien.” Her eyes welled with tears. “I love you too.”
The euphoria building inside him grew to near bursting. He knew she cared for him, yet he dared not hope he would so readily achieve that which he most desired—Isabella's love. He reveled in the certainty that they now belonged solely to each other. It brought his emotional and physical desire up to a level he had always believed existed only in the abstract. Romantic love, tender-hearted concern, deep and binding commitment—these phrases were no longer merely words for Damien, but truths.
Tenderly he removed her clothing, pausing to kiss her each time he removed a garment. Soon she was naked, the sight of her passion-flushed skin incredibly erotic and alluring. Isabella's eyes were shining with merriment and love, but he felt her hands tremble slightly when she reached up to unbutton the top of Damien's shirt.
“Nervous, my sweet?” he asked.
“Impatient,” she replied.
Damien smiled wickedly and ripped the remaining clothes from his body. He stretched out beside her and lowered his head to her breast. He pressed feather kisses along the generous curves, then slowly licked the rosy nipple to a taut peak.
The tips of his fingers glided lightly up Isabella's inner thigh. He smiled with satisfaction when she sighed with pleasure and parted her legs. She lifted her hips against his hand and whimpered quietly as he stroked her softness, quickly bringing forth her slick, feminine essence.
The coiling tension inside Damien could wait no longer for release. He came down on top of her with the full force of his heated body, spread her legs wider with his knees, and thrust himself inside her softness.
Isabella gave a loud cry of passion and clung to him. Damien felt her legs twine around his calves and pull him even deeper into her body. She moved beneath him in naturally perfect harmony.
Damien's hips pumped rhythmically, his passion incited by the love burning in his heart. He looked down into her eyes, wild and filled with passion, and he knew he would love her until he no longer walked this earth.
Damien struggled to maintain his control, seeking to prolong this perfect moment. But Isabella peaked suddenly and her climax sparked his release. His hands came beneath her and he lifted her even closer, grinding himself against her softness as he spilled his seed deep within her.
With a sigh of fulfillment, Damien collapsed on top of Isabella. After a few moments he slowly opened his eyes. The spicy scent of passion invaded his nostrils, and he grinned like an idiot. Isabella's fingers were trailing soothingly across his shoulders, and her legs were still curled around his. He felt magnificent, totally sated in mind, body, and soul.
Reluctantly, Damien carefully eased himself out of Isabella's warm body. She protested at his leaving but appeared to lack the energy to do much about it. She garbled something, then turned to press the full length of her body against his. Her deep, even breaths told him she had fallen asleep.
Damien grinned with masculine pride. He had exhausted her with his passion. It was a truly satisfactory notion, knowing he could so completely love her. He moved closer to Isabella and curved his arm protectively around her waist. He kicked the covers up with his foot and rearranged the blankets around Isabella's shoulders. Then he turned his body until he could feel her cheek resting against his chest and fell asleep in the circle of peace and joy they had created.
 
 
Isabella awoke with a start, momentarily disoriented. She gazed with slight confusion at the sunbeams that streamed through the window and onto the unfamiliar bed. Her confusion turned to a smile of contentment when her memory also awoke.
Damien loved her. They were going to be married. A surge of elation swept through Isabella. She could not believe her good fortune.
Her eyes traveled the length of the bed and filled with admiration as she beheld Damien's uncovered, naked form. Indelicate thoughts of a decidedly carnal nature invaded her mind, but they fled the instant she heard footsteps outside her door.
Isabella clutched the blanket to her naked breast, poised to shake Damien awake the moment she heard someone fumbling at the locked door. The sound never came. Instead Isabella saw the gleam of white paper as a thick letter was passed under the door and into the chamber.
Isabella left the bed, but feeling uncomfortable in her nudity, she searched among the clothes scattered on the floor for her chemise. Pulling the garment over her head, she padded barefoot to the door to retrieve the letter. It was addressed to her.
“What is that?”
Damien sat up in bed and sprawled nonchalantly against the headboard. The sight of his muscular, naked chest made Isabella's blood sing. She cleared her throat and answered the earl's question. “It appears to be a letter for me.”
There was a short silence as Isabella broke the seal.
She shuffled through the many pages to read the signature even though she was fairly certain who had sent the missive. “It is from Lord Poole.”
“What does he write?” Damien inquired.
“He apologizes for any hurt he may have caused me and humbly begs my forgiveness. Thomas left the inn at daybreak this morning and plans to sail for the Americas by the end of the month. He has enclosed the mortgage vouchers to Whatley Grange.”
Isabella gave Damien an anxious look, but his expression remained stoic.
“Oh, goodness—Thomas has signed the mortgage vouchers over to Ian, not you, Damien.” Isabella scanned the rest of the letter quickly. “Is that legal?”
Damien shook his head. “How like Poole to be so difficult. I suppose he just couldn't bear handing them directly over to me. As Ian's father, I have control of his fortune until he reaches his maturity. And yes, in answer to your question, sweetheart, it is perfectly legal.”
“You are not angry?”
“No.” Damien stretched his arm above his head. “I didn't expect Poole to capitulate with so little resistance. I confess, Isabella, I feel he has escaped his reprehensible behavior with small punishment.”
“I disagree, Damien.” She crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed. Her brows came together in a serious line across her forehead. “Thomas has suffered greatly by Emmeline's death, and in time I believe he will feel guilty for the part he played in it. He will now be separated completely from the life he has known and enjoyed. It will not be easy for him to start fresh, in a strange country.”
Damien quirked a brow. “That hardly seems fitting revenge.”
“You and I will be married soon, won't we, Damien?” Just speaking the words aloud gave Isabella a deep, warm feeling.
“I plan on obtaining a special license today, sweetheart. We shall marry tomorrow.”
“And we will have a long, happy life together, won't we, Damien?”
“God willing.” Damien's hands closed around Isabella's waist. He lifted her up and settled her in his lap, then kissed the sensitive place behind her ear. “We shall be joyously happy, my love.”
“Then the best revenge is to be happy, dearest,” Isabella said, smiling at Damien. “And we are!”

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