What You Deserve (Anything for Love, Book 3) (17 page)

“Thank you, Mrs. Taylor,” Isabella said. “You may leave us. I shall pour.”

My mother’s actions did not bring her the peace she so desperately sought,” Tristan said as Mrs. Taylor closed the door behind her. “Indeed, it pains her to think of what I did whilst in France.”

“She drove you away. What did she expect you to do?”

Tristan shrugged. “No doubt she assumed I would find someone else to marry.”

Isabella’s heart lurched at the thought. “Then I am grateful you decided to work for a living instead.”

“You know, with my penchant for work, perhaps we should go into business together.”

“A viscount in business?” She chuckled, relieved to have moved on to another subject. All talk of ghosts, murder, and deception, made her heart feel heavy. “What sort of business?”

His wicked grin caused her stomach to flip. “Wouldn’t you like to spend your days working with me? We could open an agency that deals in the solving of mysteries. Of course, the working hours would be long.”

“Don’t tell me, we would be required to spend our nights together, too,” she said, eager to respond to his playful tone.

He moistened his lips. “Ghosts rarely appear during the daylight hours. I thought you would know that.”

As ridiculous as the idea sounded, she welcomed any opportunity to spend more time with him. “I suppose we would have premises where we would greet prospective clients, rooms above to rest when we cannot keep our eyes open after a hectic night.”

“A hectic night,” he repeated, his voice silky smooth. “You make work sound so appealing.”

It did sound wonderful and exciting. “Well, we have one more mystery of our own to solve before we can even begin to think of doing so in a professional capacity,” she said in a bid to quash all unrealistic thoughts. Daydreams, whilst entertaining, only served to bring disappointment. “But I have been thinking. Now we know the haunting has nothing to do with Samuel’s death, and that I was never in any real danger, there is a part of me that wonders if his falling down the stairs was an accident after all.”

“On the surface, that is what it would seem.” He nodded when she gestured to the tea tray. “I am inclined to think the same about Andrew’s accident, too. However, we have nothing to lose by asking a few questions, or by prying a little into Lord Fernall’s affairs.”

With a firm grip on the china saucer, she handed him his tea. “So you still agree we should be seen out together?” There was a nervous hitch in her voice that she could not suppress. “You do not care what people think?”

“There is no need to sound so terrified at the prospect. You’re a widow. I am not beholden to anyone. We may do as we please. By God, we have waited long enough to spend time in each other’s company.”

“Whilst no one knows of our attempted elopement, there will be gossip. People will assume I am your mistress.” The thought caused a sensual beat between her thighs. It had been so long since she had felt the intoxicating thrum of desire. The last time was in her youth. In her innocence, the feeling had not burned with the same intensity.

“Does the thought offend you?” His heated gaze drifted slowly over her face, scanned her grey dress as though it was made from the finest gossamer and proved utterly scandalous.

“I am used to sly whispers as I walk by, used to turned up noses and direct cuts. To be thought your mistress carries more prestige than to be known as the wife who tolerated her husband’s obscene parties, or a wife capable of murder.”

“Whilst I recognise the compliment infused within your words, know that I could never demean you in such a way.”

What was he saying? Did he not want her? Did he not feel the same urgent need clawing in his belly? Would he ever learn to love her again, love her enough to make her his wife?

An awkward silence ensued.

The nature of their relationship was complex. Once, they had loved each other deeply. It had been a pure love. Sweet. Hardly innocent. She had given herself to him on the night before they had eloped. The moment of their joining had roused feelings of utter bliss. Now, despite believing her heart was but a pit of cold, charred embers, the fiery flickers of desire sparked and burned anew.

Perhaps they could fall in love again. All she could do was hope.

“Well, we will ignore the gossips,” she said feeling a renewed sense of determination to win his heart. “After a wretched few months, we deserve some enjoyment.”

A smile touched the corners of his mouth, and his brilliant blue eyes glistened. “The Holbrooks are hosting a ball tomorrow evening. It is said to be an event to surpass all others. I’m told everyone will be there. It will be the perfect opportunity for me to speak to Henry Fernall.”

If it was to be such an elaborate soiree why had she not heard of it? “What deems it to be so special? Will there be acrobats and jugglers?”

He shook his head. “There is to be a card game. The stakes will be high. The night will end in rejoicing for some, disaster for others. Whilst the matrons would ordinary disapprove, people will speak of the winners and losers for years to come.”

“And no one would want to admit they were not there to witness such a momentous event.”

“Precisely. In light of what tragedies will come to pass, I doubt many will take notice of us dancing together.”

Her heart fluttered up to her throat. He intended to take her in his arms then. “I cannot recall the last time I took to the floor. There is every chance I will step on your toes.”

“Then I shall just have to hold you a little tighter than would be appropriate.”

“And how tight would that be?” Carried along on a buoyant wave of euphoria, she found it impossible not to continue their amorous banter.

He leant forward and placed his cup on the tray. “Perhaps I should show you. It would not do for you to gasp in shock when we are trying to remain inconspicuous.” He stood and held out his hand.

She glanced at it for a moment, noted that the skin was not as soft and smooth as she remembered. His work in France must have required an element of physical strength. An image of his muscular torso flashed into her mind. She did not need to glance in the mirror to know a blush touched her cheeks.

“I presume you mean to lead me in a waltz,” she said as she slid her hand slowly into his. A soft gasp breezed from her lips. The sudden tingling in her palm and the rush of hot blood racing up her arm caught her off guard.

“You see,” he said with a satisfied smile as he led her to a spot where there was more space. “Such a pleasurable sound is sure to make people stare.” He wrapped his arm around her waist, made no attempt to hold a perfect line as he pulled her close.

“I think people would gape if we stood this close.” His coat skimmed her dress. The taut muscles in his legs brushed against her thighs. As he hummed a triple-beat rhythm, they swayed back and forth, round and round. “It feels positively indecent.” The sudden rush of excitement made her giddy.

“Am I to assume from your playful tone that you approve of my attempt at indecency?” The undeniable sensuality in his words held her captive.

“Can you not hear my approval when I catch my breath?” She could feel all control slipping. She relished being so intimate with him. “Can you not see it reflected in my eyes?”

He stared into her eyes as they moved together. In his, she saw a look of longing, a smoldering passion that roused an ache deep in her core.

“Do you want me to tell you what I see in your eyes,” he said in a husky tone.

Her broad smile conveyed the happiness she felt inside. “Please do.”

“I see the young woman I once knew. I see the same vibrant vivacity that always held me spellbound. I see the woman I am yearning to know again, a woman whose potent allure draws me, a woman I cannot live without.”

Isabella choked back a sob. She never thought to hear such beautiful words from him again. She never thought she would ever feel so adored. “Make me yours, Tristan.” The words tumbled from her mouth without thought or censure.

Make me feel clean; make me feel whole.

But she did not give him a chance to respond. Giving in to the craving that clawed away inside, she pressed her lips to his as though she would die without his touch.

Chapter 14

The kiss felt different from the one they had shared at Highley Grange. There was something raw, something possessive about the way she claimed his mouth.

By God, he was not complaining.

Her lips were so hot, soft as silk as they moved sensually over his. He drew her close. The desperate need burning within threatened to consume him. Blood rushed to his cock, fast, furious, the throbbing ache growing in intensity until the desire to bury himself deep inside her became unbearable.

He had never needed her like he did at that moment.

The thought forced a groan from the depths of his throat, and he coaxed her plump flesh apart with his tongue to penetrate her mouth. Pure carnal lust ripped through him. His heart swelled until he feared it might burst from his chest.

“God, I have waited so long to taste you,” he panted as they broke to catch their breath. “I will die if I don’t have you.”

She stepped back out of his grasp. The loss of her warm body made him want to cry out in despair, the pain growing unbearable when she walked over to the door.

“I have waited a lifetime to feel your touch, too.” She turned the key in the lock. “And I can wait no longer.”

As she swung back around to face him, she wore her desire like her masquerade mask: with confidence, with pride. Her eyes sparkled like the dark jewels beneath the candlelight. Her aura held the same magnetic quality as it had done that night. Yet there was one intrinsic difference. As she came to stand before him, her lips were curved up into a bright smile.

Bloody hell.

He wanted to spend his whole life making her happy.

When he held out his hands, she hurried into his arms. They embraced for a few seconds, clung on to each other, their breathless pants evidence of what this moment meant to both of them.

“Know I will never desert you,” he whispered as he rained kisses along the elegant line of her jaw. “You will never be alone again.”

She closed her eyes, tilted her neck to one side to allow him easier access. “Tell me I am not dreaming. Tell me you’re really here, that I will not wake to find the last few days never existed.”

With trembling hands he cupped her face, revelled in the smoothness of her skin. “Trust me. It is a dream. One I have spent many restless nights imagining. But dreams do come true, Isabella.” He bent his head and traced the line of her lips with his tongue. “Does that not feel real?”

“Yes.” The word was but a whispered sigh.

He kissed her deeply, their tongues dancing slowly and elegantly at first, building in intensity until reaching a crescendo of wild thrusts, whimpers, and groans. Rampant hands grappled for some way to ease the flames roaring within.

“I have never stopped wanting you,” she said, pushing his coat from his shoulders until it fell to the floor. “I never expected to know your body again.”

He fiddled with his cravat, angled his head so he still had access to her mouth. His waistcoat joined the pile on the threadbare rug. But before he could drag his shirt off his back, delicate hands found their way beneath the fine lawn to caress the hard planes.

“Isabella.” Her name left his lips as he closed his eyes and let his head fall back. Every part of him responded to the touch of her hot hands. He gulped as they drifted down to the fall of his breeches.

“Tell me the truth,” she whispered, her voice rich, luxurious as she stroked the evidence of his arousal through the material. “Have you truly saved yourself all these years?”

Saved was not the word he would use. He had starved himself, and she was the only woman capable of satisfying his hunger. Indeed, he felt no shame for his lack of experience.

“It was always you.” His desire spiralled. “It was only ever you.”

She reacted instantly to his words, claiming his mouth as though she, too, was famished beyond measure.

“I am empty inside without you.” She broke contact to fiddle with the buttons on her dress, gestured for him to offer his assistance.

With his mind lost in a blissful blur he undressed her, stripped her bare, and almost expired from her blinding beauty. Every luscious curve was as he remembered.

He dragged his shirt over his head with such vigour he feared he might tear the fine lawn. “I have a feeling this will be … will be a cumbersome affair.” He struggled to form coherent words. “God, I cannot wait a moment longer.”

He pulled her into his arms, captured her mouth, his tongue delving deep inside where it was warm and wet. The feel of her soft skin against his chest heightened his arousal. Her fingers found their way into the hair above his nape; the gentle tug made him swell and pulse with need.

“I need you now,” he muttered against her deliciously divine lips.

Her fingers travelled slowly down the front of his chest until she reached the band of his breeches. “Then we must do something about these,” she said with a smirk. “And do you intend to wear your boots? Will it not be a little uncomfortable?”