What You Deserve (Anything for Love, Book 3) (28 page)

Isabella smiled. “I know, but I cannot be angry with him. Had it not been for the hauntings at Highley Grange I would not have approached you to ask for your help. And then we might never have discovered the truth.”

His chest felt hollow when he considered the possibility that he could have lived his life never knowing about the cruel deception that had forced them apart. He would have gone to his grave always believing she did not love him.

“When you put it like that, I feel an immense gratitude for his cruel and overbearing manner.” He stared at her for a moment, at the soft full lips he longed to taste, at the dark brown eyes that had the ability to see into his soul. “What will you do now?”

Her curious gaze drifted over his face. “Well, between us I imagine we will have a busy few days. Besides your appointment with Henry, you promised to call on Mr. Chandler. And no doubt Miss Smythe will need someone unbiased to talk to, a lady who will give her an honest opinion.”

“True. And I have yet to inform my mother she will be leaving for Ripon today.”

“Then you promised to take me on a shopping expedition. You promised to buy me something bold and bright as you know how much I like yellow.” She folded her arms across her chest. “So, I’m afraid you will have to put up with me for a little while longer.”

He couldn’t help but smile. Why could she not just say she wanted to spend more time with him?

He rubbed his chin. “If you’re in need of something to do, perhaps you might help me redecorate some of the rooms in Bedford Square. I find I have been wallowing in the darkness for far too long and need some vibrancy in my life.”

She raised a brow. “Most gentlemen prefer subdued colours. I doubt you will want to sit at home staring at yellow walls all day long.”

He shrugged. “I won’t need to. We will only redesign the rooms for your personal use.” An image of her wearing a sheer, diaphanous nightgown as she lounged on a bright pink chaise flashed into his mind.

“My personal use?”

“Well, I would want you to feel at home. Of course, we will share a bedchamber. There will be no sleeping in separate rooms.” Just thinking about waking up next to her each morning caused his heart to race. “And we will spend part of the year at Kempston Hall.”

He expected to see a brilliant smile light up her face, but her expression grew solemn. “Forgive me for being obtuse,” she said quietly, “but what exactly are you suggesting?”

Did he need to spell it out? Were his intentions not perfectly clear?

Then again, he suspected her experiences had made her cautious.

He crossed the carriage to sit at her side, pushed the stray curl from her face. “I love you. I have loved you from the moment I met you and will love you until I draw my last breath. Marry me, Isabella. Take your place at my side as it was always destined to be.”

She swallowed deeply as she stared into his eyes. “Tristan, I love you more than anything. What you offer sounds like heaven here on earth, but what if I am barren and cannot give you a child? A gentleman in your position must produce an heir. The few times with Samuel—”

He put his fingers on her lips. “Do you honestly think I care about that?” Even now her thoughts were only for him. Why had he doubted her all those years ago? “My cousin Harold can have what’s left should that prove to be the case.”

She placed her hand on his cheek, kissed him tenderly on the mouth. “You are the love of my life. I want to spend my days laughing with you, my nights indulging in far more illicit pleasures.”

His heart swelled, as did another part of his anatomy. “We could elope.” He never wanted to be without her again. “We could ride in this carriage all the way to Scotland. Pretend the last five years never existed.”

She gazed longingly into his eyes. “It sounds wonderful. But we cannot abandon Mr. Chandler and Miss Smythe. Had they not agreed to marry, things could have ended so differently for us. And I have a feeling they are going to need our help.”

She was right, of course.

He gave a weary sigh. “I doubt five years of daily prayer and a vow of chastity would reform Matthew Chandler.”

The corners of her mouth twitched in amusement. “Is that how you spent your five years in the monastery?”

“I prayed every night.” Begged was perhaps the appropriate word. “I prayed that the Lord would ease my pain and torment.”

“Well, you can take comfort in the fact that he listened.” She placed her hand on his leg, caressed his thigh with sensual strokes. “Do you recall how excited we were the day we eloped? Do you recall how our excitement led to a rather amorous interlude in the carriage?”

“I have never forgotten it. Indeed, I have revisited the memory many times over the years.”

“Well, we may not have the opportunity to elope, but we could certainly take a ride to Kempston. I should like to see the gardens again, to frolic next to the fountain.”

He rather liked the train of her thoughts. “And on the way, we could find a way to sate our excitement.”

“I am sure there will be time to find more than one way to accomplish our task.”

Without needing to hear another word, he shot out of his seat, opened
the window and relayed their instructions to the coachman. Closing the window and the blind, he dropped back into the seat next her.

“Kempston it is then.” He took hold of her chin and kissed her with five years of lust, love, and longing. “Promise me we shall marry upon our return.”

She pulled down the blind on her window, gathered her gown and sat astride him. “I promise to marry you upon our return. Bloodthirsty hounds and wailing ghosts could not keep us apart. I promise to love you all of my life.”

Thank you!

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What You Deserve

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What You Promised,
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Adele x

What You Promised

Anything for Love

Book 4

Chapter 1

Matthew Chandler stared at the petite golden-haired lady standing in front of him. Her perfect bow-shaped lips were formed into a delightful pout. Her wide blue eyes gazed up at him as though he was a wise scholar who knew the answers to all life’s weird and wonderful mysteries.

He had seen desire, seen lust and longing flash in many a woman’s eye. But never in all his years had he seen hope.

It certainly was a novelty.

“Do you want to marry Lord Morford?” Matthew gestured to his friend whose persistent shuffling indicated a desperate need to find a solution to their impending problem.

Miss Smythe glanced at Tristan’s handsome countenance, her gaze passing over him as one would a rather tired, faded bonnet in a shop window.

“No.” She shook her head vigorously. “I do not want to marry Lord Morford. But what else can I do?”

Matthew witnessed Tristan’s shoulders sag, heard the sigh that expressed his relief. But something had to be done. In a matter of minutes, the three of them would be found in a secluded corner of the Holbrooks’ garden. The matronly figures heading their way would take immense pleasure in spreading news of the dishevelled maiden hiding behind the shrubbery with a couple of rogues.

With a raised brow, he considered the torn bodice of Miss Smythe’s gown.

The frustrated groan left his lips before he had a chance to rein it in. Regardless of the lady's wishes, Tristan would make her an offer of marriage. He would not let an innocent woman, used so cruelly by Tristan’s mother in a plot to manipulate events, suffer the shame of a ruined reputation.

Matthew’s gaze fell to the soft curve of Miss Smythe’s breasts. “Would you like to marry me?” The words fell from his mouth far more easily than he had expected.

Tristan sucked in a sharp breath. “What the blazes? We are trying to salvage something of the lady’s reputation, not ruin it completely.”

Matthew smiled as the lady’s curious gaze drifted over the breadth of his chest. She bit down on her bottom lip, and devil take him, he did see a flash of desire in her eyes.

How intriguing.

This timid little creature might prove to be far more entertaining than he’d originally thought.

“Is … is that an offer, sir?” She batted her long lashes more times than he cared to count.

From her flirtatious tone, he knew he had captured her interest. Perhaps the evening would not be a complete disaster after all. And from what he knew, the lady had a decent enough dowry to ease his financial burden somewhat.

“It is,” he replied with an air of confidence.

Tristan inhaled deeply. “I can’t let you do that.”

Matthew shrugged. “It is not your decision to make.” Indeed, he had a sudden desire to be rid of his friend, to be left alone with the delightful Miss Smythe and to give the ravenous gossips something utterly scandalous to devour.

He heard the matrons approaching. Tristan had but a minute if he planned to make his escape through the shrubbery. The guests wandering about at the top of the garden would not suspect a solitary gentleman of any impropriety.

“You must decide what you want to do, Miss Smythe,” Tristan said with some impatience.

Miss Smythe pursed her luscious lips, glanced down at her slippers. He could almost hear the cogs turning as she desperately tried to consider her options.

“Are you able to provide for me, sir?”

He struggled to suppress an arrogant smirk. The lady would have no complaints. Of that he was certain. “Have no fear. I shall ensure all your needs are met.”

A pretty pink blush touched Miss Smythe’s cheeks, and she inclined her head. “Then I accept.”

Tristan muttered a curse.

A frisson of excitement raced through Matthew’s body.

How odd.

The pleasurable sensation soothed his bruised pride. It made him forget that, a mere thirty minutes before, he had played in the most notorious card game of the Season, and lost far more than he had intended.

“You need to leave, Tristan.” A sudden urgency to taste Miss Smythe’s soft lips took hold. “You need to leave now.” He held Miss Smythe's gaze as he gestured to the topiary archway. “Call on me tomorrow.”

Tristan crept towards the exit, hesitated every third step or so before finally disappearing into the shadows.

With no time to waste, Matthew pulled Miss Smythe into his arms. The gasp that left her lips contained a hint of excitement. Her dainty hand came to rest on his chest, her fingers fluttering over his heart.

It felt strangely reassuring, though he resisted the urge to inform her that the organ was nothing but a cold, hard lump of stone.

“When people are gossiping about our tryst, what is it you want them to say about us?” he asked. She shivered as his words breezed across her cheek. Her sensitivity to his touch would bode well for their coupling. “Is this to be a ravishing? Do you wish to be portrayed as a naive woman lured into a trap by a rogue?”

Miss Smythe swallowed deeply as her gaze lingered on his mouth. “I do not want anyone to think me so foolish.” She shook her head. “No,” she added with some determination. “If I have a choice, I would like people to say it is a lo-love match. I want people to think we were so consumed with passion we simply lost our heads.”

Convincing others he was in love was far beyond the realms of his capabilities. Love was a word foreign to him. It was a word that made the muscles in his shoulders feel tight, tense. The mere thought of it left a bitter taste in his mouth, a foul flavour only superseded by the word ‘trust’.

Passion, on the other hand, came as easy to him as breathing air. If the lady wanted to experience pure carnal lust, he would gladly give it to her.

“That is what I hoped you would say.” His tone conveyed the lascivious nature of his thoughts. “From the moment we are discovered that is how we will play this game.” A frisson of excitement raced through him. He needed a distraction, something sweet and untainted to cleanse his mind. “You have my word, as a gentleman, that I will ask for your hand. But for now, I am going to kiss you with such ardent vigour and passion that I believe we truly will lose our heads.”

Miss Smythe pursed her trembling lips. “You … you should know that I have never kissed a gentleman.”

For some obscure reason, he found her comment pleasing. “Then you must forgive my abrupt approach as I am afraid there is no time for gentle tutoring. Do I have your permission to continue?”

Good Lord!

Never in his life had he asked such a question.

The lady nodded, raised her chin and closed her eyes. She looked serene, angelic, and he feared he was about to taste a little piece of heaven.