Lady Arabella's Scandalous Marriage (10 page)

She blinked nervously. ‘The footman will be returning at any moment to remove the dishes…’

Darius smiled. ‘I have instructed the footman—in fact, all of the servants, inside the house and out of it—not to interrupt us until they are called for whenever the two of us are alone together.’

Having spent the day in her bedchamber, attended only by her own maid, Arabella had not had the chance to meet any of the other servants at Winton Hall. An oversight Darius had corrected when Arabella had joined him downstairs before dinner. All of the servants, from the cook to the butler, had been lined up in the hallway to be introduced to his duchess.

To say that Arabella had been surprised at the appearance of some of those servants would be an understatement!

All the cooks Arabella had known at the St Claire residences, both from childhood and now, were jolly and plump—usually from tasting too many of their own creations. The cook at Winton Hall was a thin and wiry woman, with a pinched face dominated by a sharply enquiring gaze that seemed to see altogether too much as she stared boldly back at the new Duchess of Carlyne.

The maids were all much older than Arabella would have expected too, and the footmen had the rough and ready appearance of labourers rather than refined household servants.

Even so, the butler, Westlake, had to be the most surprising of all. A tall and burly man, his muscled torso and arms straining the seams of his tailored frock coat, his face pocked and scarred, and his nose looking as if it might have been broken on more than one occasion, he gave every appearance of being a prize fighter rather than the butler of a duke!

Arabella knew that Hawk, as the aristocratic Duke of Stourbridge, would not have countenanced allowing
any
of Darius’s servants to step foot inside a single ducal household—let alone be employed in one!

‘After all, this
is
our honeymoon, Arabella,’ Darius added at her frowning silence.

Arabella’s bosom visibly swelled as she drew in an indignant breath. ‘How
could
you have done such a thing, Darius?’ Her cheeks were red. ‘Whatever will the servants think of us? Of me?’

‘They will think that your husband finds you so de
sirable that he cannot keep his hands from you,’ Darius assured her huskily.

Arabella shot him a confused glance. ‘But that is not true!’

Darius had been amused by Arabella’s obvious bewilderment earlier, when he had introduced her to the household staff. She had smiled graciously to each in turn, her smile becoming even more fixed when he at last presented Westlake to her. The man looked exactly what he was: an ex-pugilist—a fact that any of her brothers would no doubt have been able to tell her if they had been present. Big Tom Westlake had been a champion fighter of some repute until his retirement from the ring two years ago.

To Arabella’s credit she had not shown by word or deed that she found any of his household staff out of the ordinary. So much so that Darius had found his admiration for her increasing considerably. And his desire to make love to her even more so!

‘I assure you it is true, Arabella,’ he murmured as he easily held her gaze captive. ‘We have already been married for two days and two nights, and I have yet to make love to my wife.’ A fact that Darius was all too aware of.

‘Yes. But—’

‘Which is something I now intend to rectify,’ he continued.

Every shred of anger left Arabella, every trace of even a thought of repulsing her husband’s advances deserting her as Darius’s lips caressed the side of her throat. Arabella gave a low moan of surrender as she felt the hot sweep of Darius’s tongue against the lobe of her ear.

Everything else ceased to matter when Arabella felt the nip of teeth against that lobe, and pleasure grew and spread throughout all of her body.

Darius drew back slightly as Arabella whimpered slightly. ‘Come with me?’ He straightened to hold his hand out to her invitingly.

‘Where are we going?’ Even as she hesitated Arabella placed her hand in his much larger one.

‘Nowhere outside of this room, I assure you.’ Darius grimaced as he pulled Arabella effortlessly to her feet so that she now stood in front of him. ‘I have no intention of allowing anything to interrupt us this time, Arabella.’ His hands moved up to cradle either side of her flushed and beautiful face. ‘Not even if the house should burn down around our ears.’

The fact that the latter was more than a possibility at the moment—despite the protection of men like Big Tom Westlake—only made Darius all the more determined in his intentions. He had wanted to possess this woman for far longer than he cared to admit. Least of all to Arabella herself. Darius intended allowing nothing, and no one, to stop him from finally making her his own.

‘There is no need to be apprehensive.’ He reached up to gently smooth the frown from between her expressive eyes. ‘You liked what we did together last night, did you not?’

Arabella’s cheeks burned as she remembered how the previous night Darius had touched and kissed the most private parts of her body. ‘I—Yes, I liked it. It is only—’

‘Would you like me to kiss you in that way again?’ Darius prompted intensely.

Arabella felt almost faint as she recalled the touch of Darius’s mouth and tongue against that sensitive part of her body. ‘Are such things completely natural? Do all married couples engage in such—such intimacies together?’ Her curiosity was such that for the moment she did not care that the question betrayed her own lack of experience.

Darius gazed down at her indulgently. ‘Are you asking me if your brothers and their wives enjoy those same pleasures together?’

Was she? Did Arabella really want to know of the intimacies between her brothers and their wives? No, of course she did not! She’d had Darius’s first marriage more in mind when she’d asked that particular question…

‘No,’ she answered firmly. ‘I merely wondered as to the—the propriety—’

‘My darling Arabella.’ Darius’s interruption was indulgent. ‘Any degree of intimacy, as long as it is by mutual consent, is permissible between married couples. Or not,’ he added more seriously.

‘What do you mean?’

Darius shrugged. ‘Many married couples, whilst tolerating each other’s company socially, do not enjoy each other in the bedchamber. That is not going to be the case between the two of us, I hope?’

Arabella knew that she should stop Darius’s lovemaking now. That not doing so would make her leaving Darius tomorrow so much harder to do.

It was only that she was still so curious, and she ached to know what came next when a man and woman made love together. And if she did go ahead with her plan to leave Darius tomorrow, bringing an end to their
marriage, then tonight might be her only chance of ever finding out…

Darius’s face darkened as he misread her hesitation for reluctance. ‘Be assured, Arabella, that I will never force you into suffering intimacies which you find abhorrent.’

Arabella didn’t even want to know what those intimacies could possibly be, let alone experience them! ‘I did not for one moment suppose that you would,’ she came back tartly. ‘Nor would I let you!’

This was more like the Arabella that Darius admired and desired. Most especially desired…

He chuckled softly. ‘Allow me to aid you in taking down your hair and removing your gown.’ He suited his words to his actions, his gaze holding hers as he removed the pins from her hair before unthreading the ribbon from her curls and fastening it loosely about her throat.

Before this night was over Darius intended for that ribbon to be the only thing that Arabella wore!

A
rabella stood perfectly still, barely breathing, as Darius moved behind her to push her silky hair forward over one shoulder before deftly unfastening the tiny buttons down the back of her gown.

His fingers felt warm through the thin material of her silk shift, his lips cool as he tasted the heated flesh he had bared, his tongue a fiery rasp against her spine, sending quivers of pleasure down its length to blossom and spread between her thighs.

Arabella’s breath ceased altogether as Darius’s lips moved back up to her nape before he folded the two sides of her gown apart and allowed the garment to fall down to her ankles. His hands encircled her waist before moving upwards over her ribcage and cupping beneath the fullness of her breasts.

‘Look, Arabella,’ he encouraged throatily. ‘Watch as I touch you.’

She breathed softly as she lowered her gaze obediently to where she could clearly see his hands as they
cupped her breasts through her shift. His skin was so much darker than the creamy whiteness of those twin orbs, their nipples deeply red and pouting, straining longingly against the sheer material that covered them.

Even as her gaze focused on those disembodied hands the thumbs shifted, caressing those sensitive and swollen tips, and once again sending rivulets of pleasure down to blaze into a burning need between her thighs. ‘Darius…’

‘Watch, Arabella,’ he instructed again.

She couldn’t have looked away from those caressing hands now if her very life had depended upon it. Instead she could only gaze as her swollen nipples were captured between thumb and finger, Darius exerting just enough pressure to increase her pleasure, causing Arabella’s back to arch and her head to drop back against Darius’s shoulder.

‘Watch!’

Her breathing was ragged as she straightened to obey, her eyes widening as one of her breasts continued to be caressed and squeezed and his other hand slowly slid down over her ribcage to pull her shift up to her waist, baring her thighs and the silken golden curls nestled there.

She gasped as his long tapered fingers parted those silken curls to reveal a swollen pink nub Arabella had not even realised was there until Darius had touched her yesterday. Why would she? A lady was not encouraged to explore her own body.

‘Touch yourself there, Arabella,’ Darius urged.

Almost as if he had read her thoughts! As if Darius had known of her curiosity about these secret and so far unexplored parts of her body! ‘I cannot.’ She moved her head from side to side in protest.

‘Do it for me.’

‘You said you would not make me do anything that I did not like!’

‘I promise you will like this, Arabella,’ Darius murmured indulgently. ‘Try it and see.’ He kept his fingers against those parted curls as his other hand moved to take one of hers and guide it down to that exposed flesh. ‘There.’ He placed her finger against the swollen nubbin and moved it gently over it.

Arabella gasped as she felt the same pleasure in her own touch as she had in Darius’s.

‘It is possible to pleasure oneself,’ Darius revealed gruffly as he continued to hold her hand in place.

‘I—But—How…?’

‘Exactly as you are now doing. Touch, Arabella,’ he encouraged. ‘Caress. Learn for yourself what gives you pleasure.’

‘But you—’

‘For the moment I take my pleasure in watching
you
,’ he told her.

Arabella’s cheeks burned and she glanced quickly over her shoulder at him, assured that Darius spoke the truth as she saw that his face was flushed and his eyes dark and feverish with desire.

‘Any intimacy is possible between us so long as we both consent to it,’ he reminded her huskily. ‘At this moment it is my dearest wish to watch you pleasure yourself.’

Arabella had never dreamed—never imagined…‘I cannot!’ She snatched her hand away. ‘It is too much!’ She buried her overheated face in her hands.

Too much, too soon, Darius realised. A pity—he would have so enjoyed sitting in a chair and watching
as Arabella touched and caressed herself. Another time, perhaps. Once she was more familiar with intimacy. More intimately familiar with
him
!

Even as Darius took Arabella gently in his arms he wondered if she knew how completely she had given away her lack of all physical experience. Even self-exploration—something that most young men knew about long before they had a physical encounter with a woman.

It had been almost fifteen years since Darius had first made love to an actual woman. A rather beautiful lady of the demi-monde, and considerably experienced, who had seen it as her duty to tutor him well—both in his own pleasures and that of his bed partner. It was experience that Darius had since brought to all of his physical alliances.

Here and now, with his young and inexperienced wife, was not the occasion upon which to indulge in that experience. At least only in so far as to make this as pleasurable an initiation for her as was possible. Darius had no doubt that making love to Arabella tonight was going to stretch his self-control to its very limits!

‘Will you help me out of some of these clothes, love?’ he encouraged gently as he began to shrug out of his jacket. ‘It seems a little unfair that you are almost unclothed whilst I am still fully dressed.’

Arabella was only too glad to move behind him and help slide the tight jacket down his arms, her cheeks still burning with embarrassment at her own lack of adventure. Darius must think her a complete novice when it came to lovemaking. Which she was, of course. But it was nonetheless humiliating to keep proving it to him time and time again!

He somehow appeared bigger once free of the tailored black evening jacket—his shoulders wider, his back more muscled against his shirt and the restraint of his silver brocade waistcoat.

Arabella made no effort to hide her interest as Darius quickly despatched that waistcoat, before removing his cravat and unbuttoning the three buttons on his shirt. The open neck of that shirt revealed a covering of darker blond hair on his chest.

Her eyes darkened avidly as Darius pulled that shirt over his head, tousling his hair, the muscles moving silkily beneath the hardness of his chest.

He was perfectly formed: wide shoulders, defined chest, flat stomach, tapered waist, his thighs and legs clearly long and muscled in the close-fitting breeches.

Darius was well aware of the fact that he was twelve years Arabella’s senior, and he felt glad now that he had kept himself fit all these years, with regular exercise using his sword, and also in the ring—sometimes here with Big Tom. Arabella’s eyes showed her admiration for his muscled form as her gaze moved over him unashamedly.

‘Like what you see, little puss?’

She looked up at him quizzically. ‘Why do you call me that?’

Darius’s grin was feral. ‘Probably because before the night is out I intend to make you purr like a contented kitten!’

‘I—could we blow out the candles, do you think?’ she asked shyly, averting her gaze as Darius’s fingers moved to the fastening of his breeches.

‘By all means.’ Darius left his breeches on as he
blew out the offending candles and left the room bathed only in firelight.

A delicate light that shone on the gold of Arabella’s hair and through the thin material of her shift as she stood before that fire. Clearly outlining her slender curves—full breasts, narrow waist, the gentle curve of her bottom—and her legs long and slender through the knee-length shift.

‘You are so very beautiful, Arabella,’ Darius murmured softly as he moved to stand only inches away from her.

‘So are you,’ she returned huskily, knowing herself to be completely mesmerised by his unmistakable male beauty.

‘Men are not beautiful,’ he chided teasingly as his head lowered and his mouth captured hers.

But Darius
was
beautiful. As beautiful as that fallen angel Arabella had once likened him to. As beautiful as—

She could no longer form a coherent thought as Darius deepened his kiss. As lips, tongue and teeth laid siege to her own and he swept her firmly into his arms, moulding the softer contours of her body against his much harder one, making her fully aware of the long length of his arousal as it pressed against her.

Leaving her in no doubt as to what Darius wanted.

He wanted her.

Arabella St Cl—no, Arabella
Wynter
. His wife.

As she surely wanted him. Darius Wynter. Her husband.

Her arms moved up and her hands became entangled in the thick golden hair at Darius’s nape as she returned the intensity of his kiss. Following his lead, she nibbled
upon the fullness of his lower lip before sliding her tongue into the welcoming heat of his mouth, her tongue duelling briefly with his before Darius drew it deeper inside. Arabella felt hot, so tinglingly, sensitively hot. Each sweep of Darius’s hands, as they moved restlessly across her body, ignited tiny licking flames of awareness from her breast to her thigh, and then back again. Cupping beneath her breasts, thumbs caressing her hardened nipples time and time again, until she pressed against him, silently pleading for more.

Darius broke the kiss to slip the strap of her shift down her arm so that he could move to the gentle slope of her breast with his mouth. Tasting, caressing, until he reached her nipple and could take its bared fullness inside his mouth. His teeth and tongue became a dual sensual attack that caused Arabella to moan longingly even as she cupped the back of his head and held him to her.

She wanted more. Wanted—Oh, God, she wanted—

‘Help me off with the rest of my clothes, love.’

Arabella stared up at Darius dazedly for several long seconds, until his meaning became clear and she looked down to where his arousal strained so obviously against the material of his breeches. Her fingers were clumsy, trembling as they moved to unfasten the buttons, her breath catching in her throat as the last button came undone and she stared down at that hot and heavy fullness as it leapt free to rest against the palm of her hand.

His arousal was so thick and so long that Arabella doubted she would be able to span the width of it with her hand. She ran her fingers experimentally along its length.

Arabella had never imagined that this part of a man’s body would look as it did. So beautiful she wanted to touch it. So silky she wanted to caress it. So responsive to her touch that she longed to kiss and caress it with her lips and tongue in the same intimate manner Darius had kissed her the previous night.

‘Yes, I
will
feel that same pleasure in being touched and kissed,’ Darius encouraged as Arabella looked up at him questioningly once he had completely removed his breeches.

Although he was far from sure of the wisdom of encouraging that intimacy when Arabella moved down onto her knees in front of him. Darius closed his eyes, his jaw clenching as he fought to maintain control as Arabella began to move her hand, testing, experimenting, as she learnt which caresses gave him the most pleasure.

Everything about having Arabella make love to him in this way gave Darius pleasure. Everything!

Touch. Sight. Smell.

The hand about him felt like velvet. The intense expression on her beautiful face as she watched his response to her caressing hand was like an aphrodisiac to his own roused senses.

He—Dear God…!

Darius’s knees almost buckled beneath him as he felt her flicking the moist end of her tongue along the very tip of him. A hot, wet stroke that caused Darius to gasp and clench his fists in an attempt to find some self-control.

He managed to withstand that caress for only a few seconds longer. ‘I think not!’ he managed to rasp as he bent down to place his hands gently on Arabella’s arms and pull her to her feet.

She gazed up at him almost shyly. ‘You did not like it?’

‘I liked it almost too much,’ he admitted gruffly as his hand curved gently about her flushed cheek. ‘Another time, love,’ he promised as Arabella frowned her disappointment. ‘I have waited too long to make love with you to be able to withstand that particular intimacy any more tonight.’

Arabella looked up at him searchingly. Darius had waited too long to make love with her? Did he mean these past ten days? Or longer than that?

She had no chance to ask him those probing questions as he slipped the second strap of her shift down her arm and allowed the silky gown to fall to her feet, resulting in Arabella standing naked before him.

Any awkwardness she might have felt at her complete nakedness was forgotten as she saw the heated admiration in Darius’s gaze. He made no effort to hide it from her. Even if he had, the response of his naked body would have given him away as he seemed to grow even larger the more he continued to look at her!

‘You are as perfect as a statue of Aphrodite I once gazed upon in Greece,’ he murmured throatily.

Her eyes widened. ‘You have been to Greece?’

He chuckled huskily. ‘I have been to many places. And someday I will enjoy telling you about all of them. Just not now, Arabella.’ He ran a finger lightly across her swollen lips as he teased her. ‘The only thing I want to do now is kneel down at your feet and worship you.’

‘I do not want you to worship me, Darius.’ Arabella shook her head, emboldened by his obvious admiration of her nakedness. ‘I want—I want you inside me.’ Her cheeks burned at the admission. ‘I need to know how it
feels to have this…’ her hand caressed along the length of his arousal ‘…inside me.’

Darius’s breath caught in his throat. He had known many women intimately, but none so honest, so open in her needs, as Arabella. ‘And so you shall, love,’ he promised softly, and he took her hand and moved the two of them to lie down upon the rug in front of the fire.

Darius leant on his elbow to look down at his wife. Her curls were even more golden in the firelight, her body bathed in that same soft glow. ‘You are beautiful, Arabella,’ he said gruffly. ‘So very, very beautiful.’

Her hands moved up the nakedness of his chest, her fingers becoming entangled in the hair at his nape as she gently pulled him down to her. ‘Kiss me, Darius. Make love to me,’ she pressed shakily.