Her Missing Marquess

by Scott, Scarlett

  His cock was wet with the early beads of his spend and with her saliva. He slid in and out of her with ease. She tongued the head, worked the underside where she knew he was sensitive, sucking hard. And then she exhaled through her nose as she took him into her throat.

  His hips moved beneath her, bringing him deeper. So deep she nearly gagged. But her dominion over herself won in the end, and she moved with him, allowing him to fuck her mouth. His fingers were in her hair, tightening on the unbound strands. She removed her hand from the base of his cock and gripped his hip, digging her fingernails into him.

  She knew him well enough to know the moment he had reached the end of his restraint. His hips were moving in a choppy rhythm beneath her. His breaths were ragged. He was hers. Entirely in her control.

  “Damn it, Nellie, enough,” he bit out. “I want inside you.”

  No. She was not going to give him what he wanted. She was going to take what she wanted, and that was his complete abandon. She sucked harder, raked her nails down his thigh, and squeezed his ballocks. His entire body tensed beneath her. His grip on her hair tightened. And she remained immovable as his cock pulsed in her mouth, his seed shooting down her throat.

  He cried out. She hummed her approval, sucking him dry, swallowing down everything he had to give. Taking it as her spoils. When he was finished, she released him, raising her head, her breathing harsh enough to match his.

  Her lips tingled. Her cunny ached with all that remained so very unfinished between them. But for now, she had her victory. She had bested him in this match of control and wits. She had gotten what she wanted: his surrender.

  She licked her lips. “Thirteen more days, Jack,” she taunted.

  And then, she slid from his bed and walked from his chamber.

  She hoped he could not see how shaky her legs were. And she certainly hoped he could not see how badly she had wanted to remain. Because she had every intention of ruining this man before she left him thirteen days from now. He deserved every bit of punishment she chose to mete out, and then some.

  She told herself she would not enjoy it. But as the door closed at her back and she returned to the mocking emptiness of her chamber, she knew it for a bitter, heartbreaking lie.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Jack was hovering outside the drawing room like a bloody visitor in his own home. Ear pressed to the door. Attempting to glean any hints of conversation he could.

  Because whilst he had risen in most exquisite fashion, the fates had chosen the unassuming hours following breakfast to deliver him the ultimate blow. After Nell’s unexpected visit to him that morning, he had fallen asleep. Quite unlike himself, as he preferred to be an early riser. He had risen after having missed the breakfast hour, in no better circumstances than he had been hours before.

  Though Nell had drained him dry, he was still desperate for her. His body ached for hers. His heart ached for her, too. Which was why, after having dressed and shaved with the aid of his valet, he was so damned dismayed to learn Lady Needham was in the drawing room with a visitor most unwanted.

  Viscount Bloody Sidmouth.

  Fucking Tom.

  Would it have been too much to ask for the blighter’s carriage to overturn? Or for him to find someone else’s wife to pant after?

  He pressed his ear to the cool wood of the door, straining to hear.

  “…come with me now.” Sidmouth’s low voice was vehement.

  He sounded angry. Outraged, even.

  Jack wondered how the viscount would feel if he knew his darling’s mouth had been upon Jack’s cock that very morning. For a brief moment, he fantasized about informing the bastard himself and then breaking his nose all over again.

  But that would be uncivil.

  Instead, he waited at the door.

  Listening. Holding his breath. Biding his time. Hoping he would not overhear that which he had no wish to hear.

  “Tom, please…” Nell’s voice was soft. Too quiet. Jack could not distinguish the rest of what she was saying.

  Sidmouth’s voice rose. “You promised me, Nell. You promised you would come with me, whenever I was ready. You agreed it was the only way. Now you are telling me you need another fortnight with him?”

  Thirteen days, Jack thought grimly. He was already one down.

  “It is only thirteen days,” Nell said in a soothing tone, echoing Jack’s mind. “Needham has promised me the divorce at the end of those days. It will be better for us all—”

  “Better for whom?” Sidmouth interrupted, the sound of his strides on the carpet telling Jack he was either striding away from Nell or toward her.

  He hoped to hell it was away from her. His hand clenched into a fist at his side.

  “Better for you and I, Tom.” Again, Nell’s voice was placating. “If I go with you now, and if we live openly together, the scandal will be far worse than a divorce will be. Needham has finally agreed to be civil about this matter.”

  You and I.

  The thought of Nell and Sidmouth as a matched pair made Jack ill.

  “There is not a civil bone in that villain’s body,” Sidmouth said coldly. “Why the delay? Why a fortnight?”

  “Thirteen days,” Nell corrected again, pausing. “He thinks he will be able to persuade me to change my mind.”

  Correction, darling. I will change your mind.

  Jack ground his molars.

  “How does he presume to change your mind?” Sidmouth demanded. “Has he been forcing more of his attentions on you?”

  Forcing? Forcing? By God, he had never forced Nell. She had always been a more than willing participant in their lovemaking. Had she told Sidmouth Jack had forced himself upon her?

  Anger blindsided him, mingling with the possessive furor he could not seem to tamp down. Nell was his wife. His, damn it. And Sidmouth was doing his utmost to steal her from him.

  Without thought, Jack burst through the door.

  One moment, Nell had been guilt-stricken, about to confess all to Tom, and the next, the door to the drawing room was being thrown open. Jack strode over the threshold, fury etched on every harsh angle of his face.

  Tom’s hand was upon her elbow, and Jack’s gaze settled upon that connection.

  More guilt skewered her. But this guilt was different. It was guilt because her husband was seeing another man touch her. Her cheeks went hot, and she resisted the urge to tear herself from Tom’s grasp. How foolish an instinct that was. Tom was the man who would become her husband. She ought to be awash in guilt for having been intimate with Jack.

  The wickedness she had committed with him had been so much more than a mere hand on the sleeve of her gown.

  “Sidmouth,” Jack bit out, not bothering with formality. “Unhand my wife.”

  Tom’s grasp on her tightened instead as he faced Jack without retreating. “No.”

  Jack stopped just short of them, and the anger he emanated was almost palpable. His gaze seared hers, accusation glittering in the startling depths, before he flicked it back to Tom. “I do not want to have to deliver another drubbing to you today, Sidmouth, but if you do not cease manhandling Nellie, I will not be responsible for my actions.”

  “Nellie?” Tom repeated, casting a questioning look in Nell’s direction.

  “It means nothing,” she reassured him softly.

  But that was a lie, just like so much of her life was. What she and Jack shared was everything. That connection remained, the bond, the magnetism and spark. The love. The only difference was, she was wiser than she had once been. She knew that was no longer enough. She knew how badly he could hurt her.

  And she knew Tom never would.

  Of course, Tom would never ravish her on a dining room table, either.

  Viciously, she dismissed that unworthy thought.

  Tom’s grip on her strengthened, as if he were trying to claim her then and there. Jack’s stare burned into her.

  “Is it nothing, Nellie?” he asked softly. “It does not feel like not
hing, does it, what we have?”

  He was right. Blast him, how right he was.

  But she could not choose him. Not this time. She had to do what was best for her heart. Tom was the safe choice. Tom was a man she could trust. He loved her, and his love was pure and true. It was not caustic like Jack’s.

  She lifted her chin. “It feels hollow, Needham. Thirteen days, and then I will have my freedom, is that not right?”

  There was something in his countenance—hurt, she thought. It ate at her. She felt as if she were bleeding slowly, losing herself.

  “If you still want the divorce at the end of the thirteen days, it will be yours,” he agreed stiffly.

  And this, too, felt like a betrayal.

  “Thirteen days will not alter her mind, will it, Nell?” Tom asked her, his voice sharp.

  She turned to find him watching her intently. “Of course not.”

  It did not matter how much time passed or how much Jack made her ache for him. He could not erase the broken trust or the betrayal. The past was unchangeable. He had broken her. She would not allow him to do so again.

  “Get out of my home, Sidmouth,” Jack demanded, his voice low, laden with warning.

  Tom stiffened. “I will go when I am assured you will not force yourself upon Nell. You may be her husband now and it is within the law to require your husbandly rights, but I will be damned if I leave her here to suffer your unwanted attentions.”

  Oh dear.

  Jack laughed, though the sound held no levity. “You have my word I will not force myself upon my wife. And you also have my assurance that my attentions would not be unwanted. Would they, Nellie?”

  He was taunting her. Daring her.

  She froze. Surely he would not reveal the truth to Tom? It was a confession she would need to make herself. When the time was right. When Jack was not presiding over their dialogue.

  “What is the matter, darling wife?” Jack prodded. “Speechless?”

  She found her voice at last. “Stop this, both of you. I will not be subjected to such degradations, the two of you fighting over me as if you are no better than dogs slavering over a bone. Needham, you will have your thirteen days. Tom, I will see you at the end of them.”

  Tom searched her face. “You are determined to do this?”

  “Yes,” she said softly.

  “It is time for you to go, Sidmouth,” Jack said.

  “Come to me if anything changes,” Tom told her. “And I will return in thirteen days.”

  She covered his hand with hers. “It is for the best, Tom. I promise.”

  If only she believed her own words.

  Jack was fuming.

  Seeing Sidmouth touch Nell in such a possessive fashion, watching her take that bastard’s side, listening to her reassure him, had woken the beast within. He had known he had a fight ahead of him, but the evidence had been glaring and unwanted before him: he still stood a very real chance of losing Nell forever.

  It took every bit of his restraint to await her in the drawing room whilst she said her farewells to Sidmouth. As it was, he paced the floor like a lion trapped in a cage, restless and bloodthirsty. He half expected her to hide from him rather than return as she had said she would.

  But the door clicked, and she was there.

  She hovered at the threshold, looking pale and uncertain. Miserable, in truth. She looked the way he felt inside: ravaged.

  “I know how you must have felt that night,” he told her, his voice raw as he stalked toward her. “I know how devastating it must have been. Because when I saw his hand on you, the way he touched you as if you were already his, I wanted to tear him limb from limb.”

  She shook her head slowly. “Multiply that feeling by a thousand, by a hundred thousand, and then perhaps you will know my pain. You think it difficult to see another man’s hand upon my elbow? Imagine how it would feel to find him naked in my bed, kissing me.”

  No. Damn her. He would not imagine that.

  He raked his fingers through his hair, feeling as if he were about to crawl out of his skin. “You have kissed him, haven’t you, Nellie? You told me so yourself. What else have you done? Have you sucked his cock, too?”

  Her slap echoed in the sudden silence of the chamber. His cheek stung, but he relished the pain. He wanted her anger, her hurt, her fury. He wanted to shake her from her tower. Bring her to the lowly dirt with him.

  She stared at him, her expression stricken. “How dare you?”

  “How dare you?” he returned, feeling vicious. “How dare you refuse to believe me, refuse to forgive me, and then choose another man over me? Do you not see? What you are doing with Sidmouth is every bit as much of a betrayal, only worse. Because you are not in your cups. You are lucid and wide awake. There is no confusion here. Your every action has been committed with great intent.”

  “No,” she denied. “What I have done is nothing like your betrayal. I was true to you, Jack. Always.”

  “Not after I left,” he countered, needing her to see she was not the angel she imagined herself to be.

  They were both flawed. Imperfect beings. United in their brokenness.

  Together, they could become whole again. She had to see it.

  She stiffened as if he had been the one to slap her. “Kisses, nothing more.”

  The smile he gave her felt ugly. “How familiar our stories sound, my love. Yet I am willing to forgive and you are not.”

  “We are not in these straits because of what I have done,” she reminded him coolly. “It is because of what you have done, and you alone.”

  “It is?” he asked solemnly. “It seems to me we are both culpable in this tragedy of ours. Is forgiveness so impossible a feat?”

  “You tore me apart.” Her voice was raw, trembling with emotion. “For so long, I was afraid there was nothing left, that I would never recover. You broke my heart and shattered my trust, and then you just gadded about the world for three years as if I no longer existed! I hate you for that, Jack! I hate you for what you did to me, to us.”

  There it was—real and true emotion from her.

  How could he move them both past this untenable stalemate?

  Jack acted on instinct, hauling her into his arms, against his chest. “You were with me, everywhere I went. I saw you everywhere. I left because you asked it of me, not because I wanted to go. Do you know what I think, Nellie? I think you do not hate me at all. I think you still love me. I think you never stopped, just as I never stopped loving you.”

  Tears glistened in her eyes, slid down her cheeks. Her palms flattened on his chest, but she did not push him away. “You are wrong, Jack.”

  “I am not,” he vowed, forcing her to hold his gaze as he cupped her face and caught a tear on his thumb. “Do you know why Sidmouth does not want you to stay here with me for the next thirteen days, Nellie? It is because he is afraid he will lose you forever. He can see what is between us, what has always been between us. He knows it is far stronger than whatever you have with him.”

  He believed those words. He had to, because if he did not, then he stood no chance of winning her back.

  “Jack,” she protested. More tears slid down her cheeks.

  He caught them with his lips. Kissed them away.

  “Stop fighting this, Nellie,” he whispered. “Stop fighting me.”

  Her sorrow was salty on his lips. He licked it up.

  “I have to fight you, or I will lose myself.” She pushed at his chest, but with halfhearted force.

  Not enough to budge him.

  “Mayhap you will find yourself.” He kissed away another tear, taking his time, catching each one with great care.

  “All I will find with you is raw pleasure. The physical.”

  Stubborn, stubborn creature.

  He kissed the corner of her lips. “It is more than that, and you know it.”

  “My body wants you, but my heart does not.” But even as she said the words, her arms went around his neck, and she presse
d her lips to his.

  He kissed her slowly, sweetly, seeking to banish from her mind all thoughts of the past, betrayal, or pain. Most especially all thoughts of Sidmouth. She opened for him on a sigh, her tongue sliding into his mouth first.

  Their physical connection was as strong as it had ever been.

  The passion was there.

  The love would follow.

  It had to.

  She tasted of her tears and chocolate. Cook’s cocoa biscuits if he were to wager a guess. She had always loved chocolate. And he had always loved the sweetness of it in her kiss. He still loved it now. He loved her.

  He loved her, and he would win her back. There would be no surrender. No divorce. No Nellie moving on to Sidmouth.

  Jack sucked on the fullness of her lower lip, then nipped it. By God, he wanted to consume her. To ravish her mouth and banish the notion of marrying another man from her mind for good.

  She nipped him back. Their kiss turned aggressive, each of them battling for dominance. He broke the seal of their mouths, dragging kisses down her throat. She smelled so sweet there, her silken skin perfumed with exotic floral notes. He wanted to gather her up in his arms and carry her back to his bedchamber.

  Instead, he forced himself to stop.

  To take a step back.

  Her lips were swollen from his kisses, parted, her breathing as harsh as his. Her eyes were glazed with passion, all the anguish gone from her countenance. He vowed to keep her that way. To spend every day reminding her of why she should choose him over Sidmouth.

  “Give in, Nellie,” he said softly. “You know how it is for us. How good we are together.”

  She shook her head, as if she were emerging from a stupor. “You are no good for me, Jack. Kisses and passion do not mean anything.”

  “Does giving me your body mean anything?” he pressed, frustrated.