Lady Arabella's Scandalous Marriage (11 page)

He kissed her long and deeply at the same time as his hands caressed her, readying her, making sure that she was prepared to receive him before he moved to lie between her parted thighs. ‘I do not want to hurt you, Arabella,’ he muttered as he paused and rested his forehead against hers.

Arabella had questioned her sisters-in-law enough to know that Darius could not help but hurt her a little this first time as he breached the barrier of her virginity. It was a pain Arabella welcomed if it meant she truly became one with him. If he felt unable—or unwilling—to take that final step because he did not want to hurt her, then Arabella would have to do it herself…

She allowed her hands to move caressingly down the muscled column of Darius’s back before spreading her fingers over his buttocks, able to feel the way he tensed at her touch. Her fingers tightened about him at the
same time as she arched her hips in a thrust that brought Darius fully inside her.

He lifted his head to frown. ‘What are you doing?’

‘I want this, Darius,’ Arabella told him determinedly. ‘I want all of you!’ She thrust again, at once feeling the barrier of her innocence tear beneath that invasion.

The pain was sharp and brief. The length of a sharply indrawn breath and passing just as quickly. To be replaced by the wonder of knowing that Darius was finally inside her.

‘Easy, love.’ He soothed Arabella into stillness as she arched again in her need to take all of him inside her. ‘I want us both to savour this moment.’

He slowly kissed the tips of her breasts, licking the tightness of her puckered nipples, then gently biting. His hand moved between them to touch that swollen nubbin nestled amongst her curls, fingers lightly caressing as he increased Arabella’s pleasure.

She gasped, her eyes widening as that pulsing pleasure centred hotly between her thighs. She clung to his shoulders as she moved instinctively to meet the thrust of Darius’s thighs.

‘Yes, love.
Yes
!’ he urged through gritted teeth as he began to move his hips, pulling back slightly before surging inside her, again and again until he was so deep it felt as if he touched the very centre of her, sending Arabella into a vortex of unimagined pleasure.

Darius tried to hold back, fighting to control his own release, wanting this never to end. But as she convulsed around him Darius knew it was a battle he was destined to lose, and he rushed towards his own
climax before he collapsed weakly onto her breasts, breathing heavily, both their bodies hot and slick from the exertion.

Arabella smiled in dreamy satisfaction as she ran tender fingers through Darius’s hair, loving its silky feel as he lay with his head upon her breasts.

She was no longer a virgin!

She was now officially a woman. Darius Wynter’s woman.

It was glorious. Wonderful. Unimaginably delightful.

No wonder her brothers and their wives so often walked about with silly smiles upon their faces if
this
was what they shared in their marriage beds. And Arabella was convinced that they did.

It was like being a part of some exclusive club, its members privy to a secret too special, too excruciatingly wonderful, to be shared by any but themselves.

‘Your Grace?’ A knock sounded on the dining room door in accompaniment to the urgent demand.

Arabella’s movements stilled as she recognised the burly butler’s rough tones as he spoke on the other side of the closed dining-room door.

‘What the hell?’ Darius was scowling darkly as he raised his head to look across at that closed door.

‘I am sorry to—to disturb you, Your Grace.’ The unlikely-looking butler sounded more than a little anxious.

‘He’s going to be more than sorry when I have done telling him what I think of him,’ Darius muttered beneath his breath. ‘Give me a minute, man,’ he called out.

‘I am sure Westlake would not have disturbed us if
he did not have an important reason for doing so.’ In truth, Arabella was having difficulty holding back the bubble of laughter inside her that was threatening to break loose.

She and Darius had been married three days. Three days of constant interruptions, for one reason or another, to every attempt at intimacy between them. And now, when they had at last managed to find some privacy for their lovemaking, the butler at Winton Hall had interrupted them yet again. Even after Darius had assured Arabella that he had instructed the servants to do otherwise!

Darius’s scowl deepened. ‘Did you hear a shot being fired? Or perhaps a herd of wild elephants, loose and threatening to trample down the house with all of us inside it?’

Arabella giggled at the unlikelihood of either of those things ever happening here in the safety of the Worcestershire countryside. ‘You know I did not.’

‘Well, I assure you, Arabella, they are the only two reasons I gave Westlake for interrupting us this evening,’ he grumbled.

Her giggle developed into a fully fledged chuckle at his disgruntled expression. ‘Admit it, Darius, it
is
very funny,’ she encouraged, as her husband continued to look distinctly unamused.

‘You would not have thought so if the interruption had occurred five minutes earlier,’ he retorted.

‘No,’ Arabella acknowledged, with remembered frustration at the previous interruptions to their lovemaking. Even more so now that she was fully aware of what she had been missing all this time!

Darius gave an impatient shake of his head and gently disengaged himself before standing up. ‘I am beginning to think someone is deliberately trying to sabotage even the consummation of our marriage,’ he growled as he reached for his breeches.

Arabella made no effort to disguise her curiosity concerning Darius’s nakedness.

Her fingers ached to touch him again. To caress and handle him until he was once again hard and throbbing with the need to be inside her. Perhaps this time to be allowed to use her lips and tongue to taste and arouse him.

Darius groaned as he obviously saw the intent in her expression. ‘Do not look at me like that when there is no chance I am going to be able to make love to you again—in the next few minutes, at least.’ He settled his breeches on his hips before fastening them.

Arabella stretched languidly, feeling and no doubt looking much like the satisfied kitten Darius had earlier promised to make of her. ‘I am sure, no matter what the problem, that it will not keep you from our bed all night.’

Darius pulled his shirt on over his head before looking down at Arabella once more, relishing the fact that she obviously did not feel the need to cover herself, but instead seemed completely comfortable being naked in front of him.

‘Perhaps you should dress too, love?’ he suggested gently, reluctantly.

Damn it, if Westlake had not interrupted them Darius knew he would even now be enjoying making love to his wife for a second time.

Unfortunately, given his specific instructions to the
butler earlier this evening, Darius was nowhere near as sure as Arabella that the reason for this most recent interruption would be dealt with as quickly as he hoped it would…

D
espite the unimagined pleasure of their lovemaking the previous evening, Arabella was not feeling in the least kindly disposed towards her husband as she swept down the wide staircase of Winton Hall at nine o’clock the following morning. On the contrary, she felt there was every reason for the frown upon her creamy brow as she crossed the large hallway on her way to the breakfast room.

Leaving Darius to converse quietly with Westlake the previous evening, Arabella had retired to her bedchamber to bathe and dress in one of her prettiest nightgowns. She had then lain awake in her bed, waiting for Darius to join her, sure that he would do so at any moment, as eager for their lovemaking to continue as she was.

Their marriage had got off to a somewhat shaky start, but Arabella had begun to believe that now they were truly one the tension would start to ease between them. She’d certainly had reason to rethink her decision to leave Darius come the next morning!

But as the minutes and then hours had passed, without any sign of Darius joining her in her bedchamber, Arabella’s eagerness had turned to uncertainty. Perhaps he had not found their lovemaking as satisfactory as she had? Or had he been shocked by her obvious enthusiasm? Although she somehow did not think it was the latter; Darius had encouraged—no, positively
demanded
!—that loss of control.

That uncertainty allayed, Arabella’s anger had returned with a vengeance. So much so that it had been the early hours of the morning before she’d managed to fall asleep, only to awaken an hour ago to find the bed beside her still empty. A glance into the adjoining bedchamber had revealed that Darius had not been to bed at all the previous night—in her bedchamber or his own.

Arabella most definitely required an explanation from him this morning—for the way he had abandoned her so completely the night before. And, if she were not to renew her decision to leave him, it had best be a good one!

Prepared for a verbal exchange with him, Arabella felt her ire only increase when she found the breakfast room empty except for the footman waiting to serve her. ‘Has His Grace already breakfasted this morning, Holmes?’ she enquired lightly, as the footman served the cup of tea she had requested.

The middle-aged man maintained a stony expression. ‘I don’t fink—er—I don’t believe so. Er…Your Grace.’

Arabella’s frown deepened. ‘Has my husband been seen at
all
this morning?’

‘Not that I know of, Your Grace.’

Arabella’s irritation deepened at the man’s unhelp
ful replies. ‘In that case, send Westlake to me immediately.’

The footman paused in replacing the teapot upon its stand. ‘You wants to see Mr Westlake, Your Grace?’

‘Immediately,’ she snapped. ‘Is there a problem?’

She arched enquiring brows as the man hesitated. She really could not imagine where Darius had found the strange collection of people waiting upon them at Winton Hall. From Holmes’s accent and the awkwardness of his demeanour, the footman gave every impression of originating from the backstreets of London!

‘Er—I…I believe Mr Westlake is busy this morning, Your Grace,’ the man said awkwardly.

Arabella’s brows rose even higher. ‘Too busy to make himself available to his employer?’

‘Oh, no, ma’am,’ the man assured her happily. ‘Mr Westlake is always ready and willing to ’elp the Duke whenever the need arises.’

Arabella deliberately took a sip of her tea before replying, in an effort to allay the footman’s suspicions concerning her increasing interest in this conversation. ‘And does the need arise very often?’

‘Not as often as it used to do,’ Holmes confided with obvious disappointment. ‘But often enough, I suppose.’

Arabella’s interest was well and truly roused now. ‘So, Mr Westlake is too busy to talk to me, and you have no idea where my husband is?’

‘Now, I didn’t say that, Your Grace,’ he protested, his Cockney accent deepening in his agitation.

Arabella held on to her temper with effort. ‘So which statement was incorrect? Westlake is not busy? Or you
have
seen my husband this morning?’

‘Well…the second one, I s’pose. I ’asn’t
seen
the Duke, you understand,’ he defended as Arabella’s frown returned. ‘But I do know as where ’e is.’

‘And where would that be?’

‘’e’s in the Blue Salon wiv ’is guest.’

Guest…?

What guest?

The betrothal and wedding of Lady Arabella St Claire and Darius Wynter, Duke of Carlyne, might have taken place with more haste than was usual, but surely it was known here in Worcestershire, as much as in London, that the Duke and Duchess of Carlyne were only recently married and as such not yet receiving visitors?

Could the arrival of this guest be the reason Westlake had felt compelled to knock on the dining-room door, disturbing them yesterday evening? Possibly the same reason Darius had not joined her in her bedchamber the night before…?

From the way the footman was now squirming uncomfortably at the realisation he might have said too much, Arabella felt sure she would receive no further helpful information from him. ‘That will be all, thank you, Holmes.’ She gave the man her most gracious smile along with the dismissal; all those years as Hawk’s sister certainly stood her in good stead for her role as Darius’s duchess!

So a guest had arrived yesterday evening? Arabella mused once left alone. Someone important enough for Westlake to dare to disturb his employer, despite Darius’s instructions for him not to do so unless it was a dire emergency.

Who could that visitor be?

And what was so urgent about their visit that Darius was still privately ensconced with them hours after their arrival?

‘You have received no further word as to his whereabouts?’ Darius’s expression was grimly determined as he attempted to thrust his sword under the other man’s guarded pose.

‘We only know he left the house in Paris some days ago.’ His opponent parried the thrust to make a lunge himself. A parry that Darius easily sidestepped. ‘A coincidence, certainly. But his disappearance does not preclude him being the one responsible for the things that have happened these past few days, either.’

The two men had stripped down to their shirts, pantaloons and boots an hour ago in order to practise their swordplay, and Darius could now feel the material of his shirt clinging damply to his back from the exertion. ‘Surely the loose wheel on my own carriage three days ago is too reminiscent of similar tampering with another carriage seven months ago for the two to be unrelated?’

‘What of the fire at the coaching inn?’

‘Perhaps a new innovation on his part?’

‘I believe you once claimed that he did not have an original thought in his head?’ the other man drawled dryly. ‘Besides, Helena Jourdan is far more likely to be the one who wishes to do you harm,’ the other man insisted as Darius would have argued the point.

Darius scowled. ‘I should have wrung the woman’s neck when I had the chance!’

‘That would certainly have been one way of resolv
ing a—a delicate situation,’ the younger man acknowledged ruefully.

‘Instead of which I now possibly have a vengeful woman attempting to harm not only myself but also my wife,’ Darius frowned his displeasure.

‘Talking of your wife…’

‘Which we were not,’ Darius bit out warningly, temporarily losing his concentration as he allowed his mind to wander to thoughts of his young wife, and the memory of how beautiful she had looked naked in the firelight the previous evening. That lapse was enough to allow the other man to lunge and press the tip of his sword directly over Darius’s heart. ‘Oh, to hell with this!’ He threw his sword disgustedly onto the chaise and began restlessly pacing the room. ‘How can I concentrate on swordplay when I have some madman—?’

‘Or woman.’

Darius paused long enough in his pacing to shoot the other man an impatient glare. ‘Or woman,’ he allowed irritably, ‘attempting to do away with me the moment I step outside the damned house!’

‘You are recently married, Darius, and as such have every reason
not
to step outside the house.’ The younger man gave him a mocking glance as he threw himself into one of the armchairs.

Arabella had left the breakfast room a few minutes ago to walk outside onto the terrace with the intention of circling the house and joining her husband and his guest in the Blue Salon. Instead, shivering with the cold, she had come to an abrupt halt as she realised the
two men were talking loudly enough for her to be able to hear their discussion. And what a discussion!

Firstly the coach accident three days ago had apparently not been an accident after all! And then the fire at the inn. Also no accident…?

Arabella had easily recognised Darius’s visitor when she peeped in at the window. Lord Gideon Grayson. Tall, dark, and very handsome, a man Arabella knew to be a close friend and peer of her disreputable youngest brother Sebastian. He had also been one of Darius’s guests at their wedding.

Although what possible business it could be of the rakish Lord Grayson if some woman were supposedly attempting to harm Darius or herself was totally beyond her.

‘A vengeful woman’, Darius had called her.

Possibly a discarded lover of Darius’s?

It certainly sounded a possibility!

Recalling the intensity of their own lovemaking the evening before, Arabella felt herself bristle inside just at the
thought
of Darius being so recently intimately involved with another woman. A woman who obviously felt strongly enough about Darius having ended their affair to attempt to do him harm.

Dear Lord—could the ‘he’ Darius and Lord Grayson had earlier referred to so scathingly possibly be the woman’s cuckolded and jealous husband…?

Arabella’s previous anger with Darius returned in force, and she no longer hesitated outside on the terrace but instead opened one of the French doors to step decisively into the Blue Salon.

To say that the two men were surprised by her sudden entrance would be understating the matter. Darius’s
already grim expression became even grimmer, his eyes turning a steely blue, and in contrast, Lord Gideon Grayson’s handsome face was uncomfortably flushed as he jumped awkwardly to his feet to offer an awkward bow at the same time as he attempted to refasten the buttons at the throat of his shirt.

‘Good morning, gentlemen.’ Arabella gave them a sweetly insincere smile. ‘I trust I am not interrupting anything of importance?’

Darius narrowed chilling blue eyes on his wife, not fooled for a moment by the lightness of Arabella’s greeting, nor distracted by her beauty in a pale lemon gown. The challenging glint in her deep brown eyes and the flush to her cheeks were more than enough to alert him as to the true state of Arabella’s emotions: she was extremely angry about something.

The fact that Darius had felt unable to share her bed the night before could be the reason for that. Conversely, if Arabella had chanced to hear any of his recent conversation with Gray then she might just have taken exception to something she had overheard…

Exactly how long had Arabella been standing outside on the terrace?

‘Not at all,’ he answered her smoothly, and he crossed the room to draw her to his side by placing a possessive arm about the slenderness of her waist. ‘Is the November air not a little cold for you to be outside dressed only in your gown?’ Darius could feel the chill of her body through the gown as he anchored her to his side.

Brown eyes gazed up at Darius in what he was sure was deceptive innocence. ‘I stepped outside to take
some air before breakfast and decided to come and investigate when I heard the two of you talking in here.’

He nodded abruptly. ‘Lord Grayson arrived late yesterday evening.’

Arabella turned to Lord Grayson. ‘You rode all the way from London in one day, My Lord?’

Grayson flushed. ‘I—’

‘What does it matter how and when Gray travelled here, Arabella?’ Darius cut in. ‘He arrived yesterday evening, and we stayed up far too late last night drinking brandy together.’

Too much information, Darius, he inwardly rebuked himself as he saw the frown darken Arabella’s brow. He’d just broken one of the principal rules of being a spy: reveal only as much information as was absolutely necessary. It was not necessary that Arabella be told what he and Gray had been doing last night.

‘As you can see by our current state of undress, you have caught us practising our swordsmanship in order to shake off the effects of imbibing too much of that brandy. Poor Grayson is quite mortified with embarrassment,’ he added mockingly as the other man still fumbled in refastening his shirt.

‘Please do not concern yourself, Lord Grayson,’ Arabella assured him dryly, and she neatly extricated herself from the curve of Darius’s arm to step further into the room. ‘My older brothers never felt any qualms about appearing in front of me dressed only in their breeches and shirt.’

‘You are too kind, Your Grace,’ Grayson accepted lamely.

‘Will you be joining us for breakfast, Lord Grayson,
or are you in a hurry to continue your journey?’ Arabella enquired.

As setdowns went, this one was quite subtle, Darius acknowledged admiringly as he gazed at his wife. Very subtle, in fact, and yet it more than made clear Arabella’s displeasure at Grayson’s interruption of their privacy so soon after their wedding.

‘I have invited Gray to stay with us for a few days at least, Arabella,’ he informed her.

She raised frosty brows. ‘Indeed?’

It was all Darius could do to hold back his smile at that obvious frostiness, and poor Gray looked as if he were wishing himself a hundred miles away! ‘Indeed,’ he echoed mockingly.

Arabella nodded abruptly. ‘It can become so incredibly tedious in the country without stimulating company to alleviate the boredom, can it not?’

If they had been alone Darius would have almost certainly given in to the temptation he’d had on several occasions in this past week to place Arabella over his knee and raise her skirts before spanking her luscious little bottom!