Read Love and Other Scandals Online
Authors: Caroline Linden - Love and Other Scandals
Tags: #Romance, #Regency, #Fiction, #Historical Romance
Love and Other Scandals (30 page)
“So,” Joan said when he didn’t say more, “is this all because I was willing?”
He considered it a moment. “Partly.” Joan’s eyes popped wide open in shock. “I never would have made love to you at the Brentwoods’ ball if you hadn’t been willing,” he added in the same offhand manner. “But you were willing, and I took that to mean you . . . felt something for me—at least enough to risk your mother’s anger. Whatever else you may think of me, I hope you don’t view me as an immoral cad with no sense of a woman’s reputation and dignity.”
“Not at all,” she protested.
He nodded. “Good. Because, to answer your question, I knew that night—before I lured you away to ruination and debauchery, mind—that I wanted to marry you. The next day I went to my solicitor and told him to begin preparing a marriage contract. I even meant to do the thing right and call on your father properly in Bath, but he anticipated me by returning to London. So you—and your mother—may rest assured, he was never in any danger when he came to see me about your hand in marriage.”
Joan gaped at him. “Then he didn’t have to argue with you about it?”
“He gave me a very stern lecture,” said Tristan. “I expect the sort of thing a man might give his son, before his son weds, about being a respectable husband and how to deal with a woman’s moods and vagaries.” He grinned slightly at her scowl. “He might also have mentioned that he’s a crack shot, and wouldn’t hesitate to inflict a few flesh wounds on a son-in-law who bruised his daughter’s heart. But otherwise, no threats were exchanged.” He cocked his head and eyed her. “And you never answered my question: why do you want to know?”
Again she hesitated. “It’s good for a lady to know where she stands with her husband.”
“And for a man to know where he stands with his wife,” he replied. “Did your father come to see me because of, or in spite of, your wishes?”
“I wasn’t much consulted,” she tried to say, but he shook his head.
“Were you willing this morning, Joan?”
It was the thread of yearning in his voice that undid her. Whatever his answer, whatever the depth of his feeling for her, he cared about this—about her. He wanted to know she wanted to be his wife. It was her moment to be brave and bare her heart, and she could only hope he would do the same.
“Yes,” she said in a low voice. “Perfectly. You must know I was.”
“Because your parents insisted,” he said.
“No.”
“Because I made love to you and took your virginity.”
She blushed. “No.”
His jaw tensed. “Because of my fortune.”
“No.”
“Because we suit each other so well in bed.”
“You would know I was lying if I said that didn’t influence my feelings,” she said, blushing harder than ever. “But no—it seems clear that a lady can find pleasure with more than one man, so I didn’t suppose our—our—”
“Desperate hunger for each other,” he supplied.
“Yes, that—I didn’t think that alone meant we were meant for each other,” she finished, striving to maintain her poise even as his words made her heart skip a beat.
“Ah,” he said. “You were wrong. This sort of passion does not come along all the time.”
“That may be, but I married you because I fell in love with you,” she cried in exasperation. “Why are you making this so difficult?”
Tristan stared at her as if dumbfounded. Joan closed her mouth and concentrated on straightening the lace on her cuff. “I certainly didn’t mean to, but I did,” she added more calmly. “And I would like to know if you think you might ever come to care for me in some similar way.”
He got up and crossed the room to her. Joan squinted at her cuff, unwilling to face him just yet.
“No,” he said. “I don’t think so.”
She flinched. “Never?”
“I am quite sure that I am already in love with you,” he said. “Although if you intended to present an argument about why I should be, I shall listen with rapt attention.”
“You’d better!” She clapped a hand over her mouth, wide-eyed. “What did you say?”
“What did
you
say?” he returned.
Joan blinked at him. “I married you because I love you.”
His mouth quirked. “As did I. I just didn’t know . . .”
“What?” she asked cautiously.
“I didn’t know it would matter to you.” He shrugged. “I haven’t got much experience in being loved.”
Her heart was in danger of bursting. “Why did you think it wouldn’t matter to me?” she asked softly.
His gaze drifted away, and he made a face. “It doesn’t seem to occur to many women. They see the Burke fortune and picture themselves in silk and diamonds.”
“Well.” She smiled tremulously. “I have learnt never to picture myself in anything until Mr. Salvatore tells me to.” His mouth softened. Encouraged, she went on. “I don’t have much experience being in love, either. I was too tall or too impertinent for the gentlemen of London, and they would rather talk to me about soup than ask me to dance. I had begun to resign myself to a life of spinsterhood, or perhaps to luring an older gentleman with poor eyesight.”
Tristan reached up and touched her cheek. “You are the perfect height,” he said. “And any man who could think you’re not beautiful when you wear that gold gown is blind.”
Joan caught his hand and pressed his fingers flat between her palms. “It matters to me that you love me.” Saying the words aloud brought a smile to her face, a smile that seemed to grow wider every minute. “Do you really? You didn’t just say it to spare my feelings?”
“When do I ever do anything just to spare someone’s feelings?” He snaked one arm around her waist and pulled her against him, hard. “I love you halfway to madness, Lady Burke,” he murmured, his lips brushing hers.
Joan put her arms around his neck and unabashedly stretched up, straining to meet his kiss. “Then kiss me.”
He paused, his green eyes brilliant under his eyelids. “Say it once more. I like the sound of it.”
“I love you,” she said, barely getting the last word out before his mouth descended on hers, hungry and wanting and full of joy, somehow. Joan kissed him back with all the enthusiasm in her heart. “I love you,” she said again when he finally lifted his head. “Desperately. You shall never be in want of it again. And your love will always matter to me, so you’d better tell me at least once a week that you still love me, too.”
“If this is the encouragement I’m to receive, I think I might muster up the words more than once a week.” He was looking down with approval, and Joan realized her unfastened nightgown had fallen open; her bare breasts were against his chest.
She stepped back, out of his arms. “Is that the only thing you love about me?”
“I adore every inch of you,” he said at once. “Every infuriating, challenging, bewitching, intriguing, beautiful bit of you.”
“I like that!” she exclaimed. “Say it again!”
He laughed, until she threw off her nightgown again. “Ah . . .” His eyes grew dark and hot. “I can’t remember it all. Suffice it to say: I love you, my darling Joan.”
“That’s all I need to know.”
And it was.
CAROLINE LINDEN earned a math degree from Harvard before turning to fiction. Eleven years, eleven books, two Red Sox championships, and one dog later, she has never been happier with her decision. Please visit her online at
www.CarolineLinden.com
.
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
LOVE AND OTHER SCANDALS
. Copyright © 2013 by P.F. Belsley. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
EPub Edition AUGUST 2013 ISBN: 9780062244888
Print Edition ISBN: 9780062244871
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