Patricia Frances Rowell

by A Scandalous Situation

  “Not an unusual circumstance for a man and his wife.”

  Iantha clutched the quilt tighter. “But we—we don’t…”

  Rob’s grin disappeared. “I know. We don’t. But if you will allow me to hold you, I will warm you.”

  Did she dare? Last night had been so intense. So frightening. But having Rob hold her later had been…very comforting. Her teeth began to chatter, and she nodded. “Th-thank y-you.”

  She rolled toward him, and he took her in his arms. “How are you this morning?”

  “I am not sure, but I must know…” Iantha pulled back and gazed into his face. “Seeing what you saw last night, hearing what I told you… Have—have you taken me in disgust?”

  “No.” His voice firm, he did not hesitate for a second. “How could I? You are no less beautiful or interesting than you were yesterday. No less intelligent. No less fascinating. What they did has no bearing on that. I only regret that I was not there to defend you.”

  “Thank you.” He sounded as though he meant every word.

  The heat of his body enveloped her, and his big hand stroked her back. They lay quietly for a few heartbeats, then Rob asked, “But how do you feel?”

  “Other than being cold—” her throat closed, and Iantha choked on the words “—I don’t feel insane.” She hid her face against his chest.

  “I do not believe that you are mad—although an experience such as you had is enough to challenge anyone’s reason.” He moved back slightly to look into her face. “You are a very strong woman, Iantha. You do not give yourself enough credit for that. You will heal if you determine to do so. Do you realize that you told me about the attack last night? I have never heard you do that before.”

  “No. I never have—not even just after it happened. I…I couldn’t. But no one asked me, except about their clothing and appearance. They just put me to bed and tended my wounds and tiptoed and whispered around me. And no one mentioned the incident in my presence, even after I grew better. I did my best to shut it all away.”

  Leaning back again, Rob traced the faint, white scar on her neck with one finger. She felt a rumble in his chest, like a growl, but he said nothing. He just pulled her close once again and wrapped his arms tighter around her. Slowly Iantha began to thaw. She relaxed against him, absorbing his warmth. The terror of the night before grew dimmer. A sense of peace crept over her.

  How long had it been since she had felt peaceful? The past six years had been one long, grueling battle to wall off the horror that had erupted from her mind last night. To crush all the distressing emotions. Now that she had lost the fight, the memory seemed to have lost its power over her. Sheltered in Rob’s arms, she could think about it without fear.

  Rob’s arms. Her husband’s arms.

  She had not thought it possible.

  Other than being very tired, Iantha was amazed at how well she felt that day. Her writing went smoothly. Her thoughts flowed more freely. She enjoyed a walk with Rob. She even enjoyed having his arm around her to help her back up the steep road.

  Supper tasted wonderful. Iantha had not realized how much her appetite had diminished in recent days. Burnside had overseen the preparation of a curry he was teaching the new chef to prepare, and she wolfed it down as though she were starving. She drank a whole glass of wine, and later as they relaxed before the fire in their private parlor, she accepted the glass of sherry that Rob poured for her.

  They sat in companionable silence and watched the fire. Iantha realized that she no longer felt the need to sit as far away from him as possible. She turned to study his profile. In his rugged way, he really was a very handsome man. The recognition stirred something deep inside her, but she didn’t look away.

  As though he felt her gaze on him, he suddenly looked at her and held out an inviting arm. She slid across the sofa, and he laid the arm around her shoulders. After an awkward moment or two, Iantha snuggled a bit closer and let her head rest against him. Briefly she felt the soft warmth of his lips on her forehead. Sighing, she smiled up at him.

  He set his glass aside and shifted so that he could look into her face. A strong hand came up and gently brushed the hair back from her cheek. “How could you think anything about you could ever disgust me? You are so…so innocent. And so lovely.”

  He leaned closer, and Iantha now felt his lips against hers. Only a fleeting touch. And then he was gazing into her eyes. “Your eyes are like the mountain sky in summer. I want to fall into them and fly away with you.”

  Love words. She had never before heard them.

  His mouth came down on hers again, this time more strongly. She lifted her arm and tentatively touched his face, exploring the slight roughness of his carefully shaved cheeks. His arm tightened around her shoulders, and the pressure of the kiss increased. After several breaths he leaned back and looked questioningly at her.

  She smiled. “I found that rather pleasant, my lord.”

  “Rather pleasant?” Rob grinned. “Surely I can do better than that.”

  Before she realized what he was doing, he leaned back and pulled her across his lap, cradling her head against his arm. He kissed her again, harder. Iantha reached up and rested her hand on the back of his neck, cautiously weaving her fingers through his thick hair. His faint, smoky scent rose to her nostrils. She took a deep breath to savor it, and her mouth opened slightly. His tongue slid along her lower lip.

  Iantha didn’t know what to do. But apparently she was not required to do anything. Which was a fortunate circumstance, as the sensation of his tongue on her mouth seemed to take all her attention. For several minutes he tasted her lips, nibbled at them gently, kissed her eyelids and returned to her lips.

  Then, through her robe, she noticed the warmth of his hand against her hip. The hand slipped upward to her waist, competing for attention with what his mouth was doing. Iantha seemed to be floating on a vast, balmy zephyr. Her breath came in little sighs, and she could hear Rob’s coming faster. His hand moved to the side of her breast.

  A tension developed between her legs, only to increase when he brushed his thumb across her nipple. She gasped and ducked her head against his chest. And now she noticed that under her in his lap was a growing bulge. For a moment she wanted to move away, but as he continued to tease the nipple, the impulse died, and she relaxed against him again. Iantha heard herself moan. At the sound, Rob pulled her tighter against him, again finding her mouth with his.

  And suddenly his hand was gone from her breast, and he was clutching her to him, breathing as though he had been running. She looked up into his face. He smiled down at her. “I think…” He drew a long breath. “I think we had better stop this. If we don’t, I am afraid I will push you too far too soon.”

  Iantha rested her head against his chest and sighed, half disappointed, half relieved. The sensations had been so…so compelling. She had not felt in control of her body; rather, he had seemed to control it. The thought frightened her. Could she tolerate that?

  Did she trust him that much?

  Now that was progress. She had actually responded to his lovemaking. Rob took heart. If he could but control his own urgency for a while longer, surely she would learn to enjoy him as he enjoyed her. Last night his blood had heated to the point that he’d doubted his own restraint. The sensation of Iantha’s delicate body in his arms had inflamed him until… He must be careful of demanding too much from her. He feared another frightening experience would freeze her forever.

  Rob looked forward to his next opportunity to woo her. Unfortunately, there would be none that day. They were on their way to visit Iantha’s family and would spend the night.

  He had debated the safety of traveling in the coach, but decided that, with both Burnside and Feller as scouts, an ambush was unlikely. Both he and his henchmen were seasoned by travel in hazardous places. They would not be caught unprepared like the inexperienced English country lads who had accompanied Iantha on her ill-fated journey.

  To Rob’s surpris
e, when they drew up in the drive at Hill House, another carriage was being led away toward the stables. Now who could that be? The question was answered as soon as they were escorted into the drawing room. Across the flurry of greetings that followed their entrance, Rob saw the rotund figure of his banker and the hawklike visage of his young protégé.

  “Welwyn!” Rob hastened to shake hands with both of them. “Wycomb. What brings you here?”

  The banker bowed. “Looking into some investments. Lord Rosley has very kindly agreed to discuss his gunpowder mill with us.”

  “In that case…” Lady Rosley smiled graciously at the company “…Iantha and I will leave you gentlemen to your business.” The men all stood until both ladies had cleared the door.

  “Sit down, sit down.” Lord Rosley motioned them to comfortable chairs. “Madeira, gentlemen? Or would you prefer tea?”

  All of them quickly indicated a preference for the wine, and Lord Rosley passed it to them. Seating himself, he carefully lifted one leg onto a footstool. His gout must be bothering him again. “What may I tell you about the mill? Have you a party interested in investing in gunpowder?”

  “We have several.” Welwyn sipped his wine.

  “Everyone is interested in gunpowder. It is only a matter of time until we find ourselves at war with Bonaparte, and then…” Wycomb took a deep swallow.

  “We are researching several possible mills in this area.” The older banker set his glass aside and rested his hands on his ample belly. “If you would consider taking in additional investors, we may be able to send them to you.”

  Wycomb tipped his glass up and drained it. “We will need to know a bit more about the operation, of course.”

  Rob listened with interest. If his father-in-law needed additional capital, he might consider investing himself. It sounded like a good investment. He would speak with him about it later. If England went to war, a need for the production of more gunpowder would certainly be the result.

  At length Lord Rosley agreed to have his agent forward the information that the bankers needed on the profits and output of the mill, and the conversation turned to more general topics—the European situation, their king’s increasing madness and several salacious tidbits of gossip from town. An enlightening afternoon.

  But Rob would rather have spent it with his wife.

  Chapter Twelve

  Iantha and her mother repaired to Lady Rosley’s cozy sitting room. “Oh, Iantha!” The older woman gave her a quick hug and a peck on the cheek. “I have missed you so. Are you well? Are you happy? Is Lord Duncan…?”

  “I am fine, Mama.” Iantha returned the kiss and settled into her favorite sofa. “I assure you, Lord Duncan is the kindest of husbands.” She gathered her skirt in so that her mother could sit beside her.

  “He—he is…considerate of…?” A red stain climbed Lady Rosley’s throat.

  Iantha smiled to herself. She understood well what her mother wished to know. But how to convey that information delicately? “I could not ask for more consideration. He is in no way demanding.”

  “Oh. Well, I am very glad to know that.” In fact, her mama, a confirmed romantic, looked a bit disappointed.

  “I’m sure we will grow closer with time.”

  “Of course.” Lady Rosley brightened. “It takes months to become comfortable with one another.”

  “I am feeling quite comfortable with him, Mama. You have no need to worry about me at all.”

  “I do worry. I am very sorry, but I can’t help it. Someone actually committed murder in your home, and those horrible letters… You don’t still receive them, do you?”

  For a moment Iantha contemplated telling her parent a lie.

  But that was not her way.

  Besides, Mama would know.

  She took a sustaining breath. “Yes, Mama, I have received three more. But you must not be concerned. The writers have never acted on their threats. And Lord Duncan becomes extremely fierce when he thinks of what happened. I have no doubt that he will keep me safe. He is also making a renewed effort to find them and bring them to justice.”

  Lady Rosley sighed. “Your papa tried. He left no stone unturned. We hired Bow Street to investigate, but they never discovered anything of use.”

  “I know, Mama. But I…I have begun to recall more about that night.”

  “Oh, Iantha! No!” Her mother leaned forward and clasped her daughter’s hand. “I do not want you to think about it.”

  Iantha grimaced. “I have no choice, it seems. Recently… Recently…” How could she explain it? “The other evening, the events of that time… They just suddenly burst upon me. I felt that I was there again—although I knew that, in truth, I was not.” She twisted her handkerchief in her lap. “I…I thought I had gone mad.”

  “Oh, my darling!” Lady Rosley flung her arms around her. “You cannot be mad. You of all people. You are too restrained, too intelligent.”

  A tiny smile curved Iantha’s lips. “Thank you, Mama, but I do not believe that madness and intelligence exclude one another.”

  “Well, no, they don’t. I have heard of some very brilliant individuals who… But…” She stopped for a moment and stared out the window, before turning back to Iantha. “Terrible experiences do sometimes return to us. When your baby brother died—you were only two, so you may not remember—I kept waking to the belief that he was still with me. I could not be sure until I went to the nursery and looked in the cradle. And then, seeing it empty…” She paused to wipe away tears. “Then it would all come back to me. I would understand that he was dead, just as I had when he died.” A sob escaped her. “I lost him again, time after time.”

  “Ah, Mama.”

  For the first time in six years Iantha returned her mother’s embrace, their tears mingling.

  Between Lord Rosley’s dry wit and Mr. Welwyn’s hearty laugh, dinner had been a convivial occasion. Rob had a visit earlier with the younger Kethleys. As much as he enjoyed the children, he could not gaze at Valeria without picturing Laki and wondering how she might have looked at that later age. Not blond, as Iantha’s little sister was, but he thought she would have the same quiet charm. In spite of himself sadness overtook him, and he appreciated the company over dinner.

  But what he really wanted was some time alone with Iantha. His gaze persisted in wandering to her, even when he pretended to be listening to the conversation. As usual, she ate quietly, keeping her reserve, but Rob noticed that she laughed more than she once had at her father’s sallies.

  She did not give much attention to Stephen Wycomb, who sat on her other side. Rob could feel her leaning toward him, ever so slightly pulling away from the young banker. Perhaps she would always be guarded with men she did not know well.

  Rob heartily hoped so.

  At last they had been able to excuse themselves and retire. Rob thought he saw knowing looks in the eyes of the bankers and speculation in the eyes of her parents. Well, the two of them were newlyweds. He just wished that they were hurrying away for the reasons newlyweds ordinarily did. But he sensed progress. Full victory would shortly be within his grasp.

  Once in his bedchamber he divested himself of his coat and cravat and let Burnside pull off his boots before dismissing him for the night. Rob didn’t bother with a dressing gown. His muscular build usually kept him from being cold indoors.

  Lady Rosley had diplomatically assigned Rob and Iantha adjoining bedchambers. Rob smiled as he tapped on the connecting door. He suspected he had a staunch supporter in his new mother-in-law.

  Iantha opened the door and peeped through. On seeing him she opened it wide enough for him to enter. Damn. Now she seemed wary of him again. Rob sighed. “I just came in to say good night.” He could see some of the tension drain out of her, and chanced putting an arm around her. Her body still felt stiff. “Is something amiss?”

  She shook her head. “No. I only… I am not comfortable with strangers.”

  Rob hoped that was the problem, but he doubt
ed it. “Did I frighten you again last night?”

  For several heartbeats Iantha looked at her hands. At last she lifted her gaze to his face. “Not frightened, no.”

  “Then, what?”

  “The experience was quite interesting and not unpleasant. I just felt… I don’t know… That I was not in control of my person, that you were creating sensations in me that I could not stop.”

  “Did you want them to stop?”

  A thoughtful pause ensued. Finally she said, “Not at the time.”

  A deep chuckle rolled up from Rob’s chest. “That, at least, is encouraging.” He placed both hands on her arms and began stroking them. “The nature of lovemaking, my dear wife, is just that—to be out of control and not want to stop.”

  “And you enjoy that?”

  “Oh, aye. I think most people do, once they become accustomed to it. Certainly most men like it. And many women, also.”

  Iantha considered that, her head a bit to one side. “It seems one must place a great deal of faith in the other person.”

  His hands paused for a moment. “Yes, it does, and I think that is harder for women. Men are so much stronger. But it is important for us, too. The very strength of our passions makes us vulnerable—gives women power over us.”

  “I find it hard to think of you as vulnerable. You are so wise and steady, and of course physically very large and strong. And you have such an aura of power.”

  Rob read a question in her eyes. “But I am still vulnerable to you, just as you are to me. I was very nearly not able to control my own feelings last night. You have a potent effect on me.”

  “I do?” Iantha pondered that thought. She had once believed that she would someday have a husband who would love her and desire her. And then it seemed that she never would, that no man would ever want her. But now she did have a husband, and he was saying he desired her. Perhaps he did not have all the control over the situation—over her. She lifted her hands to his shoulders and turned her face up. “Perhaps I shall get accustomed to the feeling.”