The Convenient Felstone Marriage

by Jenni Fletcher

  He looked up at the cliffs with a fresh sense of dread. He’d left instructions for carts to follow and collect them once the storm had abated, but it would be slow going at night, and the horses wouldn’t be able to get down the cliff path, which meant that the exhausted men would have to climb up and on to the exposed clifftop. He didn’t relish the thought of telling them so, but it was the only way. They had to wait for another rescue now.

  Before he did anything else though, he had to find Ianthe and make sure she was safe. No—more than that—he wanted, needed to pull her into his arms again and kiss her with even more thoroughness than before. Her willingness to help that evening, not to mention the way she’d kept up without so much as a murmur of complaint, had shown yet another side to her character. She’d surprised him again. She seemed to surprise him every day. Somehow he felt as though just seeing her again would give him the strength to get back up the cliff side.

  He re-joined the others and came to an abrupt halt. ‘Where’s my wife?’

  ‘She went for help,’ one of the women answered, though she seemed reluctant to look him in the eye.

  ‘What?’ He felt a thud like a fist punching him hard in the chest.

  ‘I warned her not to.’

  ‘You let her go on her own?’

  ‘I tried to tell her.’

  He let loose a volley of oaths, hardly able to believe what he was hearing. Was she mad? Did he really have to warn her not to go climbing cliffs in the dark? He felt sick to his stomach, picturing everything that might have happened to her. If she’d fallen then he’d never forgive himself.

  ‘Which way?’

  ‘She took the path.’

  He sprinted towards it, panic giving him a fresh burst of energy, relieved that she’d at least had the sense not to branch off on her own. With any luck, he’d catch up with her before she got too far.

  He heard a noise and halted abruptly, eyes narrowing towards a cluster of yellow dots glowing through the darkness, getting bigger and brighter as they bobbed closer towards him. He felt the knot of panic in his chest start to ease. If they were lanterns then they must belong to a rescue party, which meant that there was a good chance that Ianthe was with them, that she’d found help after all, that she was alive...

  ‘Robert!’

  He heard her voice before he saw her, a small figure hurtling out of the darkness and into his arms, flinging herself against him almost before he had a chance to make her out.

  ‘Are you all right?’ She squeezed him tightly, as if trying to make sure he was really there. ‘I’ve been so worried!’

  ‘You’ve been worried?’ He jerked away, seized with a sudden fury, wrenching her arms away and holding them tightly at her sides. ‘You?’

  ‘What?’ She looked surprised by his reaction.

  He glowered at her, so full of conflicting emotions that he couldn’t speak, stunned by the intensity of his feelings. She was alive. Which meant that he could breathe again, that his heart could beat again—that same heart he’d thought didn’t function like other men’s, that he’d assumed was incapable of love. He felt as though it had just stopped and restarted.

  Not that he was going to let her off the hook so easily. She’d just scared the life out of him, even more so than the rescue had done. Fighting the storm hadn’t frightened him half as much as the thought of losing her, but the realisation that had struck him the moment he’d seen her again had been almost as terrifying. He hadn’t just been worried. He’d been frantic, distraught even. And now he was beyond furious, beyond rational thought, because now he recognised the feeling for what it was. He was in love with his wife and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Ianthe awoke to darkness. She didn’t know how long she’d slept, but the storm outside seemed to have quietened slightly, the fierce howl dulled to a murmur, though judging by the pitter-patter of rain on the slate roof it was still a long way from over.

  She vaguely remembered the long trudge back up the cliff side, their weary and bedraggled group splintering apart as they finally reached the cottages. Nancy had led her away, giving her a bowl of soup to eat and a nightgown to sleep in, before she’d crawled wearily into bed, unable to keep her eyes open a moment longer. Then something had woken her, not a touch or a noise, but a nagging feeling that something wasn’t quite right... Where was Robert?

  She forced her eyelids open, looking around the cottage in the flickering firelight, but the one big room seemed deserted. Was she alone then? Robert had kept a vice-like grip on her arm the whole way back up the cliff side, though he hadn’t said a word, his brows set in a heavy black line as he’d simply handed her over to Nancy. Seeing his expression, she hadn’t argued, though she’d wondered what had been wrong. What could possibly have made him so angry? The rescue had been a success and everyone was safe. What was there to be angry about? He ought to be celebrating, not acting as if she’d somehow caused the whole shipwreck!

  The door opened suddenly, letting in a gust of cold air as a tall figure paused on the threshold to remove its overcoat.

  ‘Robert?’ She squinted, trying to make out his face in the darkness.

  ‘You’re awake?’ There was no mistaking his deep voice, though it sounded oddly distant.

  ‘Yes.’

  He hesitated, as if trying to decide whether or not to come inside, before the draught from the door made the fire splutter and he seemed to make up his mind, closing it firmly behind him.

  ‘You should get warm.’

  She swung her legs off the bed and hurried across to the fire, moving aside the rack where her clothes were drying. ‘I don’t know where Nancy is.’

  ‘She’s sleeping elsewhere.’ He followed her to the fireplace. ‘She says the cottage is ours for tonight.’

  ‘Just ours?’ She swung around and almost collided with his chest, breath hitching as her lips pressed inadvertently against his bare skin. She’d forgotten that he’d been shirtless beneath his overcoat. Now the smooth contours of his body looked even more rugged in the firelight, glistening with a combination of rain and sweat, tasting vaguely of salt.

  He seemed to stiffen, though the severity of his expression didn’t waver. ‘Just ours.’

  ‘Oh.’ She tried to move away and found that she couldn’t. Between his body and the fireplace she was effectively trapped. ‘Would you like something to eat?’ She cleared her throat nervously. ‘There’s some bread somewhere...’

  ‘I’ve eaten.’ He took another step closer, resting his hands on either side of the fireplace behind her. ‘We need to talk, Ianthe.’

  She backed up against the chimney breast, vaguely alarmed by his sudden close proximity. What was the matter with him? He was probably just tired from the rescue, but his stern voice and even sterner expression reminded her of the first time they’d met. They were the look and tone of a man about to lose his temper.

  ‘What about?’ She inched her chin up defiantly. After all, she was tired, too! Whatever was causing his bad temper, if he thought he could take it out on her then he could think again. How dare he corner her as if she’d done something wrong?

  ‘What about?’ He looked incredulous. ‘Are you seriously telling me you don’t know?’

  ‘I don’t know why you’re so angry, no! We’re all all right, aren’t we? I don’t know why you’re acting like we’re not.’

  ‘Because you shouldn’t have gone off on your own!’ His voice rose to a shout. ‘Do you have any idea how dangerous that was? What might have happened?’

  ‘What?’ She blinked in shock. She’d gone to get help—had actually found help—and this was the way he reacted? This was her thanks?

  ‘You went off on your own in the dark!’

  ‘To get help!’

  ‘You could
have been hurt!’

  She caught her breath at the unfamiliar note of anguish in his voice. Was that why he was angry then, because he’d been worried about her? Because he cared about her enough to be worried? The thought made her pulse start to flutter excitedly.

  ‘But I wasn’t hurt.’ She placed a placatory hand on his arm. ‘I’m all right.’

  ‘It was still a bloody stupid thing to do. If you’d fallen then we’d have had to spend the rest of the night looking for you. You could have endangered more lives!’

  Her pulse faltered again. So much for caring. He was angry at her for not being sensible enough!

  ‘You should have waited for me, Ianthe.’

  ‘It was almost dark!’ she shouted back at him furiously, raising her voice to meet his. Even if it had been a reckless thing to do, he had no right to attack her for doing what she’d thought was right—what had turned out to be right.

  ‘That’s not the point.’ He seemed in no mood to back down. ‘You don’t know these cliffs.’

  ‘Somebody had to go and find help!’

  ‘Not you!’

  ‘Nobody else offered.’

  ‘You were irresponsible!’

  ‘Well, I’m sorry if I wasn’t sensible or respectable enough for you, but I wanted to save your life!’

  She tried to push past him, but he grabbed her arm, hauling her back again.

  ‘You scared me, Ianthe.’

  She froze at once. His voice sounded different again now, huskier somehow, sending a quivering sensation all through her body.

  ‘Do you think I wasn’t scared when you were out on the lifeboat?’

  ‘You don’t understand.’ He closed his eyes briefly, his anger seeming to abate all of a sudden. ‘I’m not just angry because you went off on your own. I’m angry because of how much it scared me. I couldn’t bear the thought of losing you.’ He raised a hand to her cheek, brushing the backs of his fingers against it before moving them around to cup the back of her neck.

  She closed her eyes, tilting her head back into his hand. There was only her nightgown between them, only a thin slip of material between their two bodies, so close that she could feel his heartbeat thudding almost as quickly as hers. He cared for her. He hadn’t said so exactly, but the implication was there in his words. He cared for her in the same way she cared for him. Not because she was part of a business deal, but because of who she was...who she was pretending to be anyway. The thought made her stiffen at once.

  ‘Promise me you won’t do anything like that again.’ Robert seemed not to notice, his lips grazing her throat, pressing kisses in a line along her jaw.

  ‘I promise.’ She didn’t know what else to say.

  ‘I need you, Ianthe.’

  His voice was almost a growl, making her knees almost give way beneath her. She raised her hands to his chest, trying to summon the strength to push away and finding her hands curling their way around his neck instead. He couldn’t mean that! It wasn’t part of their agreement. She was supposed to be sensible and respectable. While he...he clearly wasn’t thinking straight. He was exhausted. So was she, for that matter, even if the last thing she wanted was to go back to sleep.

  She opened her lips, but there were no words. His lips on her skin felt so good that she didn’t want him to stop. She felt as though something in her body were loosening, as if all the fear and anxiety of the previous evening were oozing away beneath his touch. She wanted more of him, not less. Even if it were wrong, even if he thought she was a different woman, she couldn’t stop, not unless he stopped first.

  ‘Ianthe?’ His mouth hovered over hers, making her name into a question.

  ‘Yes,’ she answered even before she had a chance to consider what the question might be, lifting her lips to his with a gasp of surrender.

  For the space of heartbeat, they stayed that way, held together in a tender, almost poignant embrace, before a surge of feeling seemed to overtake them both at the same moment. Then hands and lips were everywhere, touching and caressing, exploring each other in a frenzy of anticipation.

  Eagerly she ran her hands over his chest, revelling in the sensation of corded muscle beneath her fingertips. His skin was warm and yet delectably soft, like a pillow she wanted to rest her head against. In return, his fingers trailed over the curve of her back and down to her bottom, cupping her cheeks in both hands as his tongue delved deeper into her mouth, becoming fiercer and more insistent as if he wanted to taste every part of her. Instinctively, she pushed towards him, nipples tightening beneath her thin covering as if her body itself were straining to escape.

  As if he could sense it, he reached down and grabbed the ends of her nightgown, pulling the whole garment up and over her head before she realised what he was doing.

  ‘Wait!’ She tried to grab it back, but it was already in a heap on the floor.

  ‘Wait?’ His face looked guarded suddenly.

  She lifted her arms, covering her swollen breasts with embarrassment, and he gave a slow smile of understanding.

  ‘You’re right, it isn’t fair that only one of us is naked.’

  ‘Oh.’ Her mouth was so dry that she could hardly speak. Not that she could look away either, her gaze drawn irresistibly downwards as he unlaced the ties of his trousers and let them fall to the floor, the evidence of his desire presenting itself to her stunned eyes.

  She opened her mouth and then closed it again soundlessly, cheeks flushing scarlet as she looked back at his face in amazement.

  ‘I want you, Ianthe,’ he repeated, his gaze sweeping over her so heatedly that every part of her body seemed to contract. ‘But if you don’t...’ his voice cracked slightly as if he were forcing the words out ‘...tell me now.’

  ‘I...’ She hesitated, hardly able to hear herself think over the sound of her own pounding heartbeat. Of course she wanted him, she wanted to scream. She wanted him so badly it almost hurt. But not as the new Ianthe he’d married. As the old her—the real her, she now realised—the woman who was pounding so violently against the door of her prison that she could feel every wall, every barrier she’d built up over the last year, start to crumble.

  But if she surrendered to him now then it would be as good as admitting the truth—that she was as bad as Albert’s mother had said she was. If she succumbed to desire then she wouldn’t be able to hide or deny her true nature any longer, not from him or from herself either. He’d know who she really was, not the sensible and respectable bride he thought he’d married, but a shameless, brazen wanton. There’d be no way back for them. It was probably too late already. She could feel the last bolt on the prison door sliding open and her old self breaking free...

  ‘Tell me, Ianthe,’ he almost groaned.

  She couldn’t restrain herself any longer. She was in his arms before he’d finished speaking, abandoning herself to the surge of desire coursing through every vein. Even if it was just for one night—one night before he woke up and realised what kind of woman he’d married—she wanted to be as close to him as she could be, to share herself and discover everything there was to know about love before it was too late.

  She threw her hands around his neck and he clasped his arms around her, lifting her up and carrying her towards the bed as she wrapped her legs around his waist, pressing kisses against his neck and shoulders as they tumbled headlong on to the mattress.

  Quickly, he shifted to one side, stretching out alongside her as their tongues touched again, twining together hungrily as his fingers caressed her breasts, teasing each nipple in turn until she bucked beneath him, straining for more.

  ‘Robert?’ she gasped against his mouth.

  He gave a soft laugh and released her, shifting his weight downwards to brush his lips over her stomach and down between her legs.

  ‘Robert!’ she almost shouted his na
me this time, instinctively trying to jerk away, but his hands held her steady, his lips continuing their slow progression downwards to kiss her in a place she’d never imagined could be kissed.

  She inhaled sharply, trying to understand what was happening. Not that her brain seemed to be working. Her body seemed to have taken charge of her senses, drowning out everything except the irresistible, undeniable impulse to start moving.

  ‘I want you, too.’ She panted the words. There was no point in denying it. Even if she kept silent, her treacherous body would only betray her. It was already writhing indecently as his fingers sought the space between her legs, drawing her apart and teasing her in her most private of areas. She didn’t know what he was doing, but she didn’t want him to stop. Whatever it was, she wanted more. She wanted him. Now.

  She squirmed beneath him, letting her fingertips trail a path over his shoulders. He stopped moving at once and she felt a sudden rush of panic. Had she hurt him somehow? Was he in pain? Even worse, had he changed his mind? If he had, she thought the ground would open up and swallow her.

  ‘Ianthe?’ He moved back up the bed, positioning himself over her with a look that was part query, part need. ‘Are you ready?’

  She smiled with relief, finding his mouth and letting her lips answer for her. He gave an answering moan, lowering his body gently and pushing himself slowly inside her. She felt a tearing sensation, a sudden searing pain as her body parted beneath him, biting her lip to stop herself from crying out as he plunged deep inside her. She could scarcely move from the pain. Whatever she’d expected, it hadn’t been this. How could she have wanted something so badly that now hurt so much? Surely kissing was infinitely preferable to this?

  ‘Am I hurting you?’ He looked down at her with concern and she shook her head, forcing herself to lie.