Hell's Belle

by Annabelle Anders

  “There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

  “I’m not so sure of that.” She pulled back and met his eyes. “There’s Rhoda and Sophia and my mother and oh, blast and tarnation! Your father! And everybody in the ton!” They were going to think the Earl of Blakely had gone mad! And all because of her!

  Marcus’ eyes turned serious for all of a second. “Don’t make this into more than it is, Emily. If you remember correctly, I’m already blacklisted. It’s not as though a pile of invitations awaits us.” He stared out the window again. “I’ve an estate near Southampton where you can live. If you’d prefer to be closer to your parents, I can purchase something elsewhere for you.”

  Emily swallowed hard at the thought. Not where we can live. He didn’t include himself at all because he didn’t intend to reside there.

  Maybe they’d skip London altogether. A significant possibility, in fact, if he were to discover his father wasn’t the blackguard he’d come to believe him to be.

  She knew so little about this man with whom she’d tied herself until death they do part… technically anyhow, even if they hadn’t taken the actual vow.

  Marcus smiled, that charming smile she’d seen on his face so many times. The one that hid everything about who he really was. Why hadn’t she realized this about him before? She’d considered herself in love with him for nearly a year, but she’d known absolutely nothing about him. He’d always been pleasant to debate with. And despite some occasional teasing, he’d shown her respect and kindness. But she knew so little about what went on in the man’s mind. What concerns were in his heart?

  She’d only a glimpse of them yesterday.

  And that night in the Crabtrees’ Library.

  “We’ll first go to Eden’s Court. Return Prescott’s coach, make our apologies for leaving the house party so abruptly. Then we’ll go through London. I’ll buy you something gorgeous to wear and we’ll make an appearance at the theatre… make it known that we’ve married so my father gets wind of it… And then…”

  “Yes?”

  “And then, we’ll travel to my estate near Southampton. It’s not far from the ducal estate, nor Nottingham’s either, for that matter. You can visit with your friends as often as you like. I’ve not spent a great deal of time there, but it will make a nice home for you.” He patted her leg. “I’ll give you a nice allowance to decorate.”

  She didn’t like the direction this discussion was going. She scowled.

  Without looking at her, Marcus reached his other hand up and covered her mouth. “You’re thinking too hard.”

  She wanted to resent his audacity, but he did it so playfully, that she couldn’t help but let the matter rest. So instead, she opened her mouth and drew her tongue across his palm.

  Now that she knew what his hands could do, what their mouths could do, her body came alive at the slightest baiting from him. Just the salty taste of his skin, the feel of his strength behind her body, had her thighs aching again. She’d heard ladies could be sore on the day after, but all she felt was a swollen and tingling awareness of her own feminine needs.

  Emboldened by the time they’d spent together, she lifted her skirt, turned and straddled this man who was her husband… for now anyhow…

  Marcus settled back on the seat and pretended a helplessness they both knew to be false. “I’m shocked at you, Miss Goodnight. Do you plan on taking advantage of me?”

  Emily ignored the fact that he’d still referred to her by her maiden name and wiggled her bum around on his lap. Ah, yes. She would take advantage of this man. She easily felt his arousal beneath her.

  His hands crept up her thighs and when she lifted herself up, he unfastened his falls deftly.

  Even though they’d yet to try this particular position, it felt like the most natural thing in the world when she lowered herself onto him. It never took her long to be prepared for him. Merely thinking about him readied her body for his invasion.

  She couldn’t help but compare the first moment with that of taking that first bite of her favorite pastry. “Umm,” she hummed as she lowered herself farther. He filled her so perfectly.

  Marcus took hold of her hips and steadied her. Yes, she felt a little sore, but she’d come to the realization that pain carried within itself a pleasure all its own. Making love was like life itself. Pleasure, vulnerability, giving and taking…

  The carriage hit a rut and bounced, causing him to impale her further. Ripples of sensations raced through her core. Nothing, no book, no piece of art, no statue or monument had prepared her for the rapture she felt when Marcus and she shared their bodies with one another. And it seemed to be getting better each time. Familiarity with one another brought, not contempt, but a boldness. It seemed to erase former inhibitions.

  Last night, she’d taken his mentula into her mouth. She’d touched the contours of muscles in his stomach. She’d run her fingers through the tuft of hair that led to his shaft and bollocks.

  He had so many places she wanted to explore. And she wanted to explore them with her fingers, her eyes, her mouth, her…

  Another rut and Marcus clutched her tighter. By now, Marcus was setting the pace. Lifting her, raising and lowering his hips. His mouth had pulled her dress down. Again, with the perfection. It was the only word she could come up with when her body sang this melody.

  She pulled back and watched his face. Toward the end, he usually closed his eyes. And she realized she usually closed her own. But she wanted to watch him this time, in the light of day, and she still had her spectacles on.

  He’d thrown his head back. His lips parted slightly, and corded muscles strained beneath the bronzed skin of his neck. She knew the look of pain would come but she watched for something else. Something more.

  As though sensing her intent gaze, he opened his eyes.

  And then everything changed.

  With heavy lids, he stared back. His motions slowed but became deeper. Hands clutching her behind, he ground himself higher into her. Her breath hitched, and her own lids felt heavier. Still, she didn’t allow her gaze to falter. Could he tell her things with his eyes that he couldn’t say out loud?

  One hand moved around in front and he swirled his thumb, causing her to buck, pleasure coursing through her veins.

  Still, she didn’t close her eyes.

  His fingertips wet, Marcus raised them to her breast. He pinched and squeezed. Emily felt herself melting into a pool of satisfaction. She could barely hold herself up.

  Still, she didn’t’ close her eyes.

  He raised his fingertips farther and slid his thumb past her lips. She tasted herself on his skin. She licked and then sucked. Marcus thrust harder.

  Was this a battle? A dance?

  Words threatened to pour out of her, but she held back. She’d tell him everything with her eyes. I love this. I need this. Don’t leave me ever. I need you.

  I love you.

  Marcus’ pace turned frenzied and he seemed to reach for the very center of her being. She’d give all of herself to him. Whenever. Wherever.

  He shuddered and released into her at the same time her own body seized its pleasure.

  She couldn’t keep her eyes open a second longer. She rode out the sensations and then collapsed on top of him. Their hearts beat rapidly together, his haggard breathing hot against her forehead.

  “Emily.” He finally said it. That’s all she’d been waiting for—something, anything to know that she was not just a body to him. That she was a person.

  “Marcus.” She smiled against his chest.

  She’d never think of carriage rides the same again.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Back to Reality

  “Rhoda is gone!”

  Sophia and Cecily swept Emily onto Sophia’s private drawing room as soon as she and Marcus arrived back at Eden’s Court. Emily was surprised at the empty feeling in the pit of her stomach she experienced when her new husband disappeared with the duke.

  They’d
been together so much over the past few days. She felt as though a part of her was missing as she sat in the drawing room catching up on all that had happened since their departure.

  “When? Oh, no! Has her mother sent her packing to the country?” It was all Emily’s fault. She had stolen her friend’s prospective bridegroom.

  “Just a few days ago.” Cecily took Emily’s hands in hers and held them comfortingly. “And she’s not gone back to the country. She’s engaged to Lord Carlisle!”

  Rhoda and Carlisle? Her friends filled her in on what little details Rhoda had shared before leaving and then demanded to know all about Emily’s adventure with Lord Blakely. Since both Cecily and Sophia had been lucky enough to marry men that they loved—eventually—they seemed to expect no less for Emily.

  What could she tell them? Although she experienced moments where she felt certain she loved Blakely, he’d made it quite clear that, although they found pleasure with one another, and although they were friends, the marriage itself was one of convenience.

  And yet, she didn’t want to see pitying looks upon their faces. She’d see enough of that when Marcus eventually abandoned her to her own devices. She’d deal with it then.

  “We are friends… who enjoy one another physically.”

  Sophia and Cecily looked at one another and burst into fits of laughter.

  “Oh, Emily!” Cecily wiped a tear from her eyes, trying to bring herself under control. “Only you would ever think to put it that way.”

  Sophia was shaking her head. “Ever the practical one!” Except she leaned forward and embraced her impulsively. “I am just so very happy that you will have your own family and home. Mr. Nottingham has told Cecily it’s not far from their own estate. You’ll be able to see each other regularly.” She pouted then. “And I’m all alone up here. I’ll have to talk Dev into taking us to visit often.”

  “You won’t have to go to Wales! You’ll never have to defer to your aunt’s every wish again.” Cecily knew this was most important.

  “I’m just so happy for you!” Sophia exclaimed. “Perhaps our daughters can all be friends.”

  Their excitement, their giddiness, pushed her too far.

  “It isn’t the same!” Emily couldn’t allow them to assume her marriage was the same as theirs. “He doesn’t love me! He’s gone out of his way to make certain I understand that he never will. As soon as I’m settled, he’s going to resume his travels.”

  And then she burst into tears.

  Cecily pressed a handkerchief into her hand. “Oh, Em.”

  “Are you sure?” Sophia asked, ever the optimist.

  “I’m so stupid.” Emily tried to bring her tears under control. “I know I promised in the beginning that I’d be perfectly fine with this. In fact, everything about it sounded wildly promising. But then all this other stuff happened and… I know how I’m supposed to feel, but I just can’t seem to stop myself from feeling… so…”

  “Disappointed?” Cecily asked.

  “Brokenhearted?” Sophia added.

  Emily nodded. “Yes. To both. And I’m not in love with him! I swear, I’m not! It’s just that…”

  They all sat silently for a moment, filling in the end of the sentence for themselves.

  “Oh, we know,” Cecily finally acknowledged.

  “I’m sorry for acting like such a ninny.” Emily sniffed loudly. “I just… I don’t exactly know how to do all of this. We’re supposed to travel to London, so his father knows of our marriage, and then Marcus said we’d travel to his estate. I’m terrified one minute, enraptured in those other minutes, and utterly confused in between.”

  Sophia was shaking her head. “Waters departed from London last week. Dev mentioned it to me the just today. He asked if I thought Blakely might be received in London since the duke has left town.”

  A maid stepped into the room quietly. “Pardon me, your grace.” She curtsied toward Sophia. “His grace wishes to meet with Lady Blakely if she’s not indisposed right now.”

  Cecily and Sophia scrutinized her even closer than before. Emily shifted in her seat and then rose with a tight smile. “Likely he has a few words regarding Lord Carlisle. I did, after all…”

  “Before leaving for Gretna Green, you requested I make some inquiries for you.” Prescott stared at her knowingly.

  The duke sat across from Emily, behind the ancient desk used by generations of dukes before him. Although worn and scarred, the wood gleamed from polish.

  Emily straightened her back at his words. She’d been preparing herself for this meeting since the day they departed. And yet when she’d first been summoned, she thought he might take it upon himself to reprimand her for her scandalous behavior while a guest in his home.

  After all, she’d trapped Lord Carlisle and then failed to present herself for his proposal the next morning.

  “Did you find anything then, your grace?” It seemed odd, sometimes, to refer to him so formally when Sophia spoke of him as though he were the sweetest man to ever live. But sitting in his office, watching his black eyes as he perused the papers before him, she had a sudden desire to cower in her seat.

  “I deliberated inviting your husband to this meeting, considering the matter concerns him. But I wasn’t certain you had informed him yet, as to the nature of your inquiries.” Disapproval set an edge to his tone.

  Emily bit her lip and shook her head. “I have not.” Oh, no! What had he found? His demeanor seemed to indicate that he may have discovered something of note.

  He grunted. “It might have been simpler if you had.” And then he returned his attention to the papers once again. “Miss Meggie Thistlebum apparently was not at all what, or whom, she presented herself to be a decade ago. And the man living with her was not her father. He was, in fact, her husband. The investigator I sent to look into these matters located the magistrate who removed them from Waters’ estate. My man followed their trail to a small village north of Manchester where they lived openly as man and wife until Mr. Thistlebum passed away two years ago. The couple was notably childless.”

  “And the woman?”

  “Has moved to town where she has found work in a brothel.”

  Emily swallowed hard.

  “Marcus’ father didn’t lie to him, then.”

  Prescott shook his head wearily. “It would seem he did not.”

  What did all of this mean? She’d suspected that Miss Thistlebum might have taken advantage of Marcus but to have lied about a husband! And a child! Marcus did not have a son living in squalor somewhere, nor was his dear, sweet Meggie pining for the child’s absent father. She’d taken advantage of the unchecked passion of a randy youth in order to line her own pockets, it seemed.

  The Duke of Waters had been telling the truth.

  “I expected there might have been a few discrepancies, but nothing like this.” She looked to Prescott in shock.

  At that moment, his eyes flickered with pity.

  Of course, Sophia would have informed him of the nature of her and Marcus’ marriage. Prescott had to know that her husband had married her simply to defy his father.

  And Prescott had uncovered information that changed everything. Marcus had been estranged from his father, mother, and sister over nothing. Marcus didn’t have an abandoned child, living or dead. And he’d been betrayed by a woman he thought he’d loved.

  “You will tell him?” Prescott’s brows furrowed.

  Emily’s future would unfold so much easier if she did not.

  And yet.

  He needed to know the truth. He needed to know the truth about the child—that there wasn’t one.

  Perhaps he could reconcile with his family.

  Except… for his marriage to her.

  Emily’s very existence could ruin everything for him. The Duke of Waters was a proud man. He was a man who would not take kindly to Marcus’ defiant act of marrying such a nobody as her.

  And an annulment was out of the question.

  Prescot
t awaited Emily’s answer.

  “I must. Is not the truth always best?”

  At her words, he winced ever so slightly. His eyes dropped to the papers before him and then he took a deep breath. “I will leave the decision to you.”

  A thought occurred to her. “Does Sophia know?” If she decided to keep the information from her husband, she’d want to be certain as few individuals knew the truth as possible.

  Black eyes stared back at her. “It is your secret to tell. I have not discussed any of this with Sophia.”

  Emily shivered at his words. Such an intimidating man. And yet, she’d seen the other side of him with his child and wife.

  Being a duke likely shaped a man.

  Marcus would one day be a duke.

  Emily swallowed hard.

  “Thank you, your grace.” He’d accomplished more than she might have imagined in such a short amount of time. Or his investigators had anyhow.

  But that she’d never asked him.

  At this moment, she wished her curious nature to perdition.

  The duke nodded, and Emily rose. A life-changing decision had been placed in her hands.

  She closed the duke’s door behind her and drifted along the corridor. Was there any decision to be made? Male voices floated out of the billiard room.

  Marcus and Mr. Nottingham’s.

  “…get it over with and then bring her down to Southampton. Your property is close enough to mine. I know Cecily will be more than happy to take your wife under her wing.” A clacking sound followed Mr. Nottingham’s suggestions.

  Emily huddled beside the wall. She knew better than to eavesdrop. It was rude. And yet, if she could learn some of the workings of Marcus’ brain…

  “Convenient that.” But Marcus did not expand on his thoughts. Men! Would it kill them to share something of themselves with even their dearest of friends?