Lady Arabella's Scandalous Marriage (7 page)

Her wedding yesterday had made Arabella an even wealthier and more independent woman than ever she had been before that marriage.

She smiled tightly. She could not—would not—allow this arrogant and sarcastic man to know that she would probably have married him a year ago, whatever his wealth or title, if she had known of his offer.

‘How clever of you to guess!’

He looked at her coldly. ‘Cleverness has nothing to do with it.’

‘If you say so.’ She nodded coolly. ‘Did you have a particular reason for confiding your celibacy to me now?’

Amusement now danced in those cobalt-blue eyes. ‘I was merely trying to reassure you that you may expect my complete fidelity, Arabella.’

Arabella wasn’t yet ready to forgive him for leaving her so abruptly on their wedding night. ‘Surely that is something any new bride might expect?’

‘Expect, perhaps,’ he said ruefully. ‘But never be truthfully assured of.’

She raised a sarcastic brow. ‘In that case I should no doubt consider myself fortunate that you feel able to offer me such assurances.’

Once again Darius was tempted to lift her skirts and paddle her bottom until she screamed for mercy. After which he would enjoy nothing more than making love to her until they were both thoroughly satisfied!

She was a little madam. A minx. And he found her completely enchanting. She was a temptress who had occupied far too many of his waking thoughts—and his dreams—this past week.

Perhaps if she had not Darius might have been more on his guard yesterday. More expectant regarding the sabotage of their coach…

He would not relax his guard again until they were safely ensconced at Winton Hall. Once there, he had the necessary security in place to ensure Arabella’s safety at least.

Darius’s expression hardened as he once again regretted that he had allowed himself to be beguiled into marrying her. By doing so he had brought her into the web of deceit and danger that had necessarily become his own life these past eight years.

He would not have been so tempted beyond resistance if Arabella were not so beautiful. So delectable. So spirited. And if he had not wanted her so badly in his bed for years…

‘I am pleased to hear you are wise to the honour,’ he bit out in response to her sarcasm. ‘If you will excuse me, Arabella? I believe I might nap for the rest of the journey.’ He lowered his lids, deliberately shutting out the vision of loveliness that was his brand-new bride.

Except Darius could still see her and feel her behind those closed lids, as she glared rebelliously across the width of the carriage at him.

The silky gold of her hair was tempting him into releasing it. The pout of her lips was begging to be kissed. The full swell of her breasts was spilling over the low neckline of her gown. A fullness that Darius ached to cup in his hands. To kiss and caress once more as he had that evening a week ago in Hawk St Claire’s study.

Dear God, he had no need to fear meeting death at the hands of his enemies when this desire for Arabella was sure to drive him into an early grave!

‘I am very tired, Darius. I believe I will retire for the night.’ Arabella placed her napkin on the dinner table before standing up.

She had found herself becoming more and more tense, and their conversation had reflected that tension as the two of them dined privately in the warm comfort of the secluded parlour the landlord of the inn had provided for their use. As bedtime had approached, that tension had reached breaking point…

Having suggested that once they reached the inn they might retire for the afternoon together to their bedchambers, Darius had once again busied himself—unnecessarily so, Arabella had felt—in seeing to the stabling of the horses and the securing of the coach.
Leaving Arabella to be shown upstairs to the privacy of her bedchamber and the attentions of her maid, who had been sent on ahead to the inn with Darius’s valet and their luggage. Having bathed and changed into her robe, Arabella had lain down upon her bed and managed to fall asleep, waking only when her maid came back into the room to help her dress for dinner.

Darius had obviously found time to shave and bathe, and his hair was freshly washed and gleaming deeply gold as it curled in meticulous disarray about his stunning face. He had also changed from his dark travelling clothes into a tailored superfine the same colour blue as his eyes, his impeccable linen was snowy-white, and his buff-coloured pantaloons moulded to the muscled length of his thighs above shiny black Hessians.

On first seeing him thus, Arabella had had to allow that Darius was the handsomest man in England!

The knowledge that this man was also her husband, and that the second night of their marriage was fast approaching, had made Arabella all the more aware of him as each second of the meal progressed, resulting in her doing little more than pick at the food placed before her. That Darius’s hooded blue eyes had settled on her often, and no doubt noted her lack of appetite, had only added to her increasing nervousness.

Darius also now rose from the table. ‘I will join you shortly.’ He nodded coolly, the expression in those deep blue eyes unreadable.

Arabella swallowed hard even as she eyed him shyly from beneath lowered lashes. ‘I…’ Her voice sounded reedy, and too high even to her own ears. Completely
unlike her usual forthright tone. She drew in a controlling breath. ‘I really am exceedingly tired, Darius.’

‘I do not see how you can possibly be tired when you slept most of the afternoon and early evening away,’ he pointed out as he moved away from the table.

Irritation creased her brow as she raised her chin to look at him fully. ‘And how would you know how I spent my afternoon when you were engaged elsewhere?’

Darius did not need the warning glitter in Arabella’s eyes to tell him that he had displeased her yet again. This time by the lack of the attention he had promised to her this afternoon. ‘I sincerely hope that you are not going to be one of those wives who expects to be told of her husband’s every move?’

Angry colour entered the previous pallor of her cheeks. ‘Unless I am mistaken, Darius, I am not, as yet, a wife of any kind!’

Now, with Arabella’s temper on the rise, was not the time to smile, Darius knew. But it was hard not to do so when she looked so put out, so disgruntled by the fact that he had not yet made her his wife in the fullest sense.

He gave a mocking inclination of his head. ‘I assure you, Arabella, that I have every intention of remedying that omission as soon as we are alone together upstairs.’

Her throat moved convulsively at she realised it was Darius’s intention to make love to her once they were in her bedchamber. More evidence, if Darius had needed it, of her youth and inexperience.

He did not need it when he knew Arabella had been under the fierce protection of Hawk St Claire these past eleven years. Added to which, while Arabella’s ardour
had not been in doubt when Darius had kissed her the previous week, her inexperience had been evident to him.

And in equal part arousing…

Arabella’s eyes widened slightly as she watched Darius approach her with all the smooth and predatory elegance of a cat stalking its prey, and it took every effort of will on her part not to make herself look completely ridiculous by taking a step backwards. Especially when to have done so would have brought her up against the wall of the shabby parlour!

Darius stood in front of her now, the lean and muscled length of his body only inches away from her own. The heat of his body and the tantalising smell of his cologne caused Arabella’s pulse to beat erratically, her heart to pound loudly, and her head to spin. She moistened stiff lips. ‘I would rather you waited until we are upstairs before any—any intimacies take place.’

He raised blond brows. ‘Surely a kiss from one’s own wife cannot be classed as an
intimacy
?’

If it in any way resembled the way he had kissed her—and she had kissed him back—a week ago, then, yes, it most certainly could!

Arabella shook her head. ‘I would rather wait, Darius.’

His eyes glittered down at her with amusement. ‘And if I would rather not?’

Her eyes narrowed. ‘I do not appreciate being played with in this odious way.’

‘No?’ He reached up to trail a finger down the creamy length of her throat, that finger lingering in the deep and sensitive well at its base. ‘That is a pity—when I so much enjoy playing with you!’

Arabella found it difficult to breathe, and her skin
burned where he touched it. ‘Stop it, Darius!’ She was becoming agitated by his easy arousal of her senses.

‘Your skin is like velvet, Arabella,’ he murmured appreciatively, his gaze now following the line of his finger as it moved lower still, to skim lightly across the top of her rapidly rising and falling breasts as they swelled over the peach material of her gown.

Breasts that became fuller, heavier, the tips tightening, becoming as hard as berries against the silk of her shift as he stroked her.

‘You have to stop, Darius!’ Arabella’s agitation increased in tandem with her arousal.

Darius looked at her from beneath lowered lids, recognising the rapid beating at her temple, the fever-brightness of her eyes, the flush to her cheeks and the full arousal of her breasts for exactly what they were. Signs of desire. The same desire that thrummed through his own body, hardening his thighs so that his arousal throbbed and ached beneath his breeches.

He stepped back abruptly. ‘As you wish, Arabella.’ His jaw was tight, the expression in his eyes hidden beneath narrowed lids. ‘You may have ten minutes before I join you in your bedchamber.’ Darius only hoped that he could control his desire to possess her for longer than that allotted time….

A
rabella was standing in front of the window, looking out into the darkness below, when she heard the door of her bedchamber softly open and close behind her—evidence that Darius, after the briefest of knocks, had entered the candlelit room.

She had toyed with the idea of already being in bed when Darius joined her, but once beneath the bedcovers had decided she appeared far too much the willing sacrifice. Or at best far too eager!

Having decided earlier that a roadside inn was the last place in which she wished Darius to make love to her for the first time, Arabella now found she wanted him to touch and kiss her with such an aching intensity that she no longer cared where he made love to her, only that he should do so as soon as possible.

‘Arabella.’

She turned slowly, her breath catching in her throat as she looked across the warmly lit bedchamber and took in Darius’s appearance. He wore a dark and paler
blue fitted robe of rich brocade which fastened at the waist with three buttons. The deep vee of the dark blue lapels revealed that his chest was bare beneath, hard and muscled, and covered in fine dark blond hair. As Darius moved to put a tray containing a decanter of brandy and two glasses down onto the table beside the door, before stepping further into the bedchamber, Arabella saw that the long and muscled length of his legs were also bare.

Leaving her with no doubt that Darius was completely naked beneath that brocade robe! ‘Did you walk down the hallway dressed like that?’

He regarded her teasingly. ‘I believe I am well past the age of climbing up the ivy outside the window in order to reach my wife’s bedchamber!’

Arabella felt no amusement at Darius’s self-deprecation, only a fierce shaft of jealousy that pierced through her as she imagined one of the other female guests at the inn seeing Darius walking down the hallway wearing so little clothing and looking so rakishly handsome!

He quirked a brow. ‘Arabella…?’

‘I—But anyone might have seen you!’

He gave a dismissive shrug. ‘Anyone did not.’

‘That really is not the point, Darius—’

‘Then what
is
your point?’

Her point was that if another woman had seen him walking down the hallway wearing only this magnificent brocade robe, then that woman could not have helped but want him. Desire him.

As Arabella desired him.

Her jealousy faded as her earlier nervousness returned with a vengeance. She made an evasive move
ment with her hand. ‘If it does not bother you, then I see no reason why it should bother me.’

Darius looked unconvinced. ‘No?’

She glared at him frustratedly. ‘Where would you like me?’

Darius raised mocking brows at her bluntness. ‘Where would I
like
you?’ he echoed with considerable amusement.

Her cheeks burned hotly. ‘Well…yes. Lovemaking does not necessarily need to be confined to the bed, does it?’

Darius instantly had visions of Arabella seated on the window as he knelt between her parted thighs and pleasured her with his lips and tongue. Or, once pleasured, draping her over the back of the armchair in the corner of the room as he entered her from behind. Or perhaps against the wall, her fingers clinging to his shoulders and her legs clasped about his waist, as he thrust into her again and again…

But no, pleasurable as any or all of those things might be for him, Darius intended indulging in none of them tonight. Far better that Arabella be introduced to pleasure slowly. With tenderness and care. After all, he had a lifetime in which to introduce his young wife to all the pleasures of her body, as well as his own. He did not need to frighten her before they had even begun!

Although it was a little difficult to turn his thoughts from those vivid and erotic images when Arabella’s hair was once again cascading loosely down the slender length of her spine, and she wore only a sheer white silk and lace robe over an equally diaphanous night
gown. The low and rounded neckline of both garments clearly revealed the firm swell of her unconfined breasts.

He swallowed hard. ‘I had thought we might share a glass of brandy together first.’ He moved to the tray he had brought in with him and poured some of the rich amber liquid from the decanter into the two glasses.

Arabella could have wept with relief at this short respite. Her nerves were so jittery now that her hand shook slightly as she took the glass of brandy from Darius’s long and annoyingly steady fingers.

Not one of her sisters-in-law had thought to tell Arabella of the painful nervousness edged with anticipation she would feel when Darius came to her bedchamber for the first time. No doubt that was because Jane, Grace and Juliet had known they were loved by the men to whom they were married. They had felt reassured by that love, and secure in the knowledge that their husbands would never do anything that would either hurt or frighten them.

Arabella knew that Darius would be an accomplished lover—his rakish reputation amongst the women of the ton was testament to that—but would he be a gentle and a patient one?

Darius did not in the least care for the way in which Arabella was looking at him over the rim of her glass as she took a sip of the brandy. Almost as if she expected that at any moment he might throw her to the floor and pounce upon her!

Darius was fully cognisant of his scandalous reputation amongst the ton—after all, was it not a reputation he had deliberately nurtured these past eight years? But he
was sure he had never heard himself described as a cruel or violent man. Why, then, did Arabella now look at him with such a look of apprehension in her beautiful eyes?

‘You—’

‘You—’

Both broke off as suddenly as they’d started speaking. ‘You first,’ Darius invited.

Arabella drew in an audibly ragged breath. ‘I was about to say that you must be tired after your disturbed night and this day’s travel.’

He hid a smile. ‘Not too tired to make love to my wife, I assure you.’

‘Oh.’ Those golden-brown eyes dropped demurely to the carpeted floor.

This awkwardness between them was intolerable, Darius decided impatiently. Unaccountable, even, when Arabella certainly had enough to say to him out of the bedchamber!

He swallowed down a liberal amount of brandy before trying again. ‘Do you want me to make love to you, Arabella?’

Those dark lashes rose sharply as she looked at him once again, heated colour in her cheeks. ‘I—What sort of question is that to ask the woman you have been married to for only one day?’ she exclaimed, falling back on defensive anger in her obvious embarrassment.

His mouth twisted ruefully. ‘A valid one, I would have thought, given the circumstances.’

Arabella looked more irritated than upset now. ‘And what circumstances are those?’

‘I am sure there is no need for us to discuss the reason for our marriage any further tonight, Arabella. Or
indeed any other night,’ Darius said as he placed his empty brandy glass back onto the silver tray. ‘Either you wish me to make love to you, or you do not. I am not an unfeeling monster. Neither do I intend to force the issue. If you do not want me here, then it is for you to say that you do not.’

‘But we are married!’

He sighed. ‘Even so, I have never yet made love to a woman who did not wish it, and I do not intend to start with my own wife. No matter what the provocation…’ he added huskily.

Arabella swallowed hard. ‘Provocation…?’

Darius’s eyes darkened. ‘Do you have any idea how desirable you look in the candle-light, dressed just so and with your hair loose about your shoulders in that wild and wanton way?’

Until Darius had said so, no—Arabella had
not
known that he found her appearance to be in the least desirable….

She moistened dry lips with the tip of her tongue. ‘Do you have any idea how desirable
you
look in the candle-light, dressed just so and with your hair rakishly ruffled in that wildly attractive way?’ she returned softly.

Darius’s expression softened even as his eyes flashed with admiration. ‘You are a woman like no other I have ever met, Arabella,’ he said gruffly.

For now that was enough…

It had to be enough. Darius was her husband, and if Arabella did not wish him to turn to the arms of another woman as soon as the honeymoon period could decently be called over—and she most certainly did not—then she must become his wife in the fullest sense of the word.

She took hesitant steps towards him, her courage instantly fuelled by the flare of desire Darius allowed her to see burning in the cobalt-blue of his eyes. Her head went back proudly as she came to a halt only inches in front of him. ‘Make love to me, Darius.’ Her voice was low and inviting. ‘Show me—teach me how to make love to you too.’

Darius had long admired Arabella. Her beauty was all too apparent. Her strength of character was much more subtle.

Looking down at her now, seeing the unwavering courage in the depths of those deep brown eyes as she met his own gaze unflinchingly, Darius knew her to be a woman who was more than a match for him. In every way, he hoped.

His thighs were hard just at the thought of making love to her. ‘I need to make love to you first, Arabella.’ His voice was a husky, unrecognisable groan. ‘I have to!’ he muttered achingly as he drew her fiercely into his arms.

It seemed to Arabella, as Darius’s mouth claimed hers, that it had been far longer than a week that she had hungered for him to make love to her again. Hungered. Ached. Yearned…

She heatedly returned his kisses, her hands sliding up the muscled hardness of his chest before her fingers dug into his shoulders as he tasted her, gently biting the swell of her bottom lip before sucking it deep into the heat of his mouth.

Arabella was aroused, her breasts full and aching, the rosy tips hard and tingling for Darius’s touch. So much so that she offered no resistance as one of his hands
moved from about her waist and she felt his fingers untying the ribbon at the front of her robe to slide the silk material down the length of her arms before allowing it to drop to the floor at her feet.

Darius drew back slightly, his eyes intent as he looked down at her standing so proudly before him, so unflinchingly, in the sheer white nightgown that showed more than it hid; her breasts were firm and pouting, tipped by dark, rose-coloured nipples that stood hard and inviting against the soft material of that gown. Her waist was slender, her hips a gentle swell, with a triangle of dark blond curls between her thighs that begged for more intimate exploration.

Just looking at her, aware of his increasing desire, made Darius question the wisdom of his past year of celibacy. Would he be able to hold his own needs in check long enough to give Arabella the attention she deserved?

He absolutely would, Darius instructed himself firmly. He must maintain control. He had to. For Arabella’s sake. He had to prepare her. Make her ready. To ensure that she was as aroused as he was, so that when he did enter her, breaching her virginity, he caused her as little pain as possible.

He slid one of the ribbon straps of her gown from her shoulder and allowed the material to slip slightly, baring one of her breasts. His gaze feasted hungrily on that exposed flesh. Arabella’s skin was so creamy-white, her breast round and perfect, the rosy nipple unbearably tempting. ‘May I?’ he prompted huskily.

Arabella stared straight ahead, but Darius could feel the way she trembled slightly beneath the touch of his hands. ‘Please,’ she whispered.

Darius slowly lowered his head, his tongue flicking lightly, across that rosy nipple in a moist caress, and he was able to feel and see Arabella’s response as her trembling increased and her back arched slightly so that her breast thrust against his mouth in a silent plea.

Darius went slowly at first, until his hunger far outweighed his need for caution and his hand moved to cup Arabella’s other breast. He captured that second nipple between thumb and finger and began caressing it gently.

Arabella’s earlier nervousness disappeared completely as she looked down at that golden head lying so close against her breast, Darius’s lashes were resting on the hardness of his cheekbones, his face unusually flushed as he concentrated on pleasuring her.

Emboldened by his complete absorption, Arabella let her fingers became entangled in the thick golden hair at his nape, and she watched in fascination as his mouth moved against her nipple like a thirsty man in a desert as his other hand squeezed and caressed its twin.

There was heat between her thighs, a pulsing, throbbing heat, and Arabella could feel herself blossoming there in a way she never had before. Shockingly, she began wanting to take Darius’s hand and place it against her, have him caress away the ache that was growing there.

As if aware of that desire, Darius moved back to swing her up in his arms and carry her over to the bed, before sitting her gently down upon the covers.

Her eyes widened as Darius removed one of the pillows before lying her head back again. They widened even further still as Darius raised her slightly, to place that pillow beneath her bottom and elevate her thighs to a shocking degree before gently folding back the
soft material of her nightgown to bare the lower half of her body his heated gaze.

‘What are you—?’ Her exclamation choked in her throat as Darius gently pushed her legs apart before moving to kneel between them. She voiced her uncertainty. ‘Darius…?’

His eyes glittered darkly as looked up at her. ‘I will not hurt you, Arabella,’ he assured huskily. ‘Believe me when I say I will never hurt you.’

Arabella wanted to believe him. To trust in him. It was only that these intimacies were so much more than—‘Ah…!’ Her breath left her in a strangled gasp as both Darius’s hands moved to touch gently between her legs, just as Arabella had instinctively longed for him to do only seconds ago.

Long and sensitive fingers parted her silky curls, and instead of feeling exposed Arabella instead felt an ache that burned. ‘Please…!’ Her own fingers dug into the sheet beside her and her head turned restlessly on the pillow. Seeking. Wanting. So desperately needing something she didn’t really understand. Arabella gave an incomprehensible groan, her hips rising in sweet surrender as Darius lowered his head and the soft rasp of his tongue touched that part of her that was so swollen and sensitive.