The Scandalous Lady Sandford

by Adele Clee

  Some of his men chuckled only to paste a serious expression when he glared into the crowd. “I mastered the art of swordsmanship while you were sewing with your threads.”

  She clenched her jaw and raised her chin. “I received expert tutorage from the Italian master Alvaro Romano.”

  “Did my men know that before you set them the challenge?”

  “Of course not. Surely you know that the art of surprise plays to one’s advantage.”

  Fabian smiled. Her confidence roused his desire. How was he to demonstrate his swordsmanship when he could think of nothing but thrusting into her sweet body?

  “Oh, I have a few surprises that might make this a far more exciting challenge.” Fabian gestured for Skinny to lend him the sword. Skinny obliged, and Fabian practised a few lunges, swung the sword around his head to loosen the muscles in his wrist. “But I anticipate it will be over in a matter of minutes.”

  “Over confidence is as debilitating as a chink in a knight’s armour.”

  “Is it over confidence or merely an accurate interpretation of my skill?” God, he’d missed her company. He missed the witty banter, missed the challenging glint in her eyes. Seeing her now banished the dull ache in his chest, the constant reminder that life without her was unimaginable now. Fabian caught himself. He’d not just missed her these last few days — he’d missed her these last eight years.

  They took their positions and touched swords. He waited for her to strike first and countered her attack. They teased each other, tapping swords, trying surprise lunges. Lillian swiped the air with her rapier, the whipping hiss a means to intimidate. What she lacked in strength, she made up for in the sheer grace of her movements.

  They clashed swords. He deliberately locked his blade against hers in order to close the gap between them. “Have you missed me, Lilly?”

  “Perhaps I should ask you the same question. You’ve been gone for four days.”

  “From your tone, I detect the answer is yes.”

  They stood rigidly, their swords crossed. The sharp blades were the only thing stopping him from kissing her. Using brute strength, he forced her sword to the left and stole a kiss.

  The surprise move threw her off balance. The men jeered. Lillian’s cheeks flushed a pretty shade of pink and she swung at him, frustration evident. Fabian blocked the hit and drew them together again.

  “Are you determined to put me in an early grave?” Fabian gazed at her lips, eager to taste them, to part them with his tongue and delve deep inside. “I almost expired on the spot when I saw you fighting with Skinny.”

  She jerked her head, flicking away the lock of hair draped across her left eyebrow. “And I hardly slept a wink wondering where you were and what had happened to you.”

  “So you were worried about me.” His smile faded when he noticed the cut above her brow. “What the hell happened to your eye?” Lord, he felt sick to his stomach. He was about to scold his men for their carelessness in combat, but the crusting around the wound confirmed it wasn’t fresh.

  “I had an accident.” She knocked his sword aside, grabbed his waistcoat and kissed him roughly on the lips before stepping back and jabbing the rapier at him again.

  Desire raged through his body. Anger fought to dampen his ardour. The internal war threw him off kilter. Fabian cursed himself for leaving her alone. And yet all thoughts turned to rousing a pleasurable sigh from her lips. Indeed, it took every ounce of concentration left to ward off Lillian’s attack.

  “Did you have to leave me on my wedding night?” she blurted, as her blade slashed the air.

  “Would I have left had it not been necessary?” Hot blood raced through his veins. He raised his sword and defended her attack. “There is no place I’d rather be than in your arms.”

  Her mouth fell open, and her breath came in ragged pants. His comment proved too hard to defend. The sword slipped from her grasp.

  Everyone gasped as they watched the outcome with eager anticipation.

  “Is that the truth?” she whispered.

  Fabian threw his sword to the ground. “You know I never lie.”

  With some hesitance, she moved towards him. He opened his arms to welcome her and she ran the last few steps, jumped into his embrace and kissed him.

  Nothing tasted as good as her lips. Somehow, she had gained confidence in her ability whilst he’d been away. She was the one to draw her tongue across the seam of his lips. She was the one moaning into his mouth as their tongues tangled.

  “Come on now. Can you not see the competition is over?” Mackenzie whispered. “Be gone, you rowdy rabble.”

  By rights, Fabian should tear his mouth away, carry his wife to their private chamber and continue what they had started. But he was held spellbound by the depth of her passion, held rigid by the powerful emotions filling his chest.

  One man’s mutterings reached his ears. “I know she threw her sword down first, but in my book, the lady is the winner.”

  Lillian broke contact. She stared into Fabian’s eyes as she tried to catch her breath.

  “Do you want to continue this somewhere else?” He had to ask. It wouldn’t do to be presumptuous.

  “You know I do.”

  “I’ve spent four days on the road. Perhaps a dip in a hot tub is advisable first.”

  Her hand came to rest on his chest. “I don’t care about that.” She pressed her lips to his again, this time the kiss was slow, heart-stoppingly sensual. Lillian spoke to his soul in a way no other woman ever had.

  Fabian took her hand. “I have a better idea. One which will appease both of us.” Without warning he scooped her up into his arms, relishing in her playful shrieks, in the closeness of her body as she threw her arms around his neck.

  After a tiring few days, he wasn’t sure how he found the strength to carry her up the stairs to their bedchamber. He barged the door open with his shoulder, trying not to drop her when she nuzzled his neck. With the heel of his booted foot, he kicked the door closed and delivered his wife to the comfort of the bed.

  Lillian flopped back on top of the coverlet, her arms stretched above her head in wanton abandon. The loose-fitting shirt gave no indication as to the soft round breasts beneath. Still, he could imagine her nipples hardening under the heat of his gaze.

  “Is there water in the bowl?” He resisted the urge to pull her shabby boots off, to tug down the breeches and settle between bare thighs.

  She glanced at the washstand. “Yes, it’s relatively clean if not a little cold.”

  “Good.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her to her feet. “Find a linen cloth while I strip.”

  “And I suppose you want me to wash you as well,” she teased.

  Fabian raised a brow. “What, don’t you want to rub your hands over my naked body?”

  A blush touched her cheeks. She took a moment to reply. “When you put it like that perhaps I can be persuaded.”

  While she found a cloth and swished it about in the water, he undid his waistcoat and threw it onto the chair. His boots followed, and he unbuttoned his breeches and left them hanging on his hips.

  Lillian wrung the water from the cloth and came to stand before him. “I’m surprised to see you wearing a cravat. I thought you’d wear less formal attire while on the road.”

  “I draw enough attention when seen in London,” he said, unravelling the length of silk. “A lord without an elegant cravat is like a king without a crown.”

  “So you were in London?”

  Although they were not clawing at each other in a rampant frenzy, the air thrummed with sexual tension. “I went to confront Lord Cornell and to bring you some clothes.” He drew his shirt over his head and added it to the pile of discarded garments. To distract her would lessen the blow when he told her the news.

  “Lord Cornell?” Lillian’s heated gaze drifted over his chest. “What did you say to him?”

  Fabian sucked in a breath as she drew the cold cloth across his shoulder and down his arm, rubbin
g the linen over his bicep. “It wasn’t what I said but more what I did.”

  Lillian’s hand stilled. “Please tell me you didn’t meet him on the common at dawn.”

  “I only duel with gentlemen. I consider Cornell to be vermin.”

  Lillian continued to wipe his chest and abdomen with the linen square, each time moving closer to the band of his breeches. “So what did you do?”

  “We kidnapped him as he left his club, stripped him naked and chained him to railings in Portman Square.” Fabian had come close to driving a blade through the cold bastard’s heart.

  “Good Lord!” Her eyes widened. “Can you not hang for committing such a crime?”

  He bent his head and kissed the frown from her brow. “There were no witnesses. The man was terrified out of his wits. I returned at dawn and released him on the proviso he refrain from all attempts to persecute you or your brother.”

  “And you can trust his word?”

  “He knows I will kill him if he hurts you again. I intend to send him a raven feather once a week as a stark reminder.” He smiled. “I think you need to rinse the cloth and begin again.”

  “I told you, I don’t care about a bit of dust.” Her breath came quickly. “A man should smell of the road and leather, not fancy soap and perfume.”

  Fabian pushed his breeches off his hips. His hard cock sprang free. “Perhaps you could attend to one more task before you discard the linen.”

  After a brief hesitation, she wrapped nervous fingers around his shaft. “It would be my pleasure.” With care, she wiped the cloth over the length of him. “Did you ask Cornell about his connection to Lord Martin?”

  Fabian struggled to think as she cleaned and massaged him. “Revenge is his motive. Lady Cornell believes she’s in love with your brother and … oh, that feels so good.”

  “It is as I suspected then.”

  “Indeed. But you never need think of it again. You’re free.”

  “And that was your reason for leaving me?” Both hands gripped his cock now. She eased slowly back and forth until all rational thoughts left him.

  “I’ll not have you living in fear. By now—” A groan left his lips. “You must know I would do anything for you.” He closed his eyes and relished the sensation of warm fingers gliding up and down in a sweet rhythm. “Now, perhaps you should remove your clothes, so I may see what I’ve missed these last few days.”

  “Four days,” she corrected. She stood before him and stripped slowly, purely as a means to torment him for his long absence.

  Fabian wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her to his chest. “Tell me you want me, Lilly. Tell me I’m forgiven for bringing you here.”

  Her eyes brimmed with emotion, and she smiled. “I want you more than I’ve wanted anything my entire life. And I want to thank you for bringing me here.”

  She twined her arms around his neck and kissed him deeply. He loved the feel of her soft mouth. He loved the way her pliant body moved so sensually against his. Most of all he loved … he loved her.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The warm water soothed Fabian’s tired bones. Draping his legs over the end of the copper tub, he immersed his head and shoulders. It had crossed his mind to have his wife wash him again this morning. But they’d spent the night becoming better acquainted. He’d explored every uncharted inch of her body, discovered every sensitive spot, mapped a perfect route to the exotic island of pleasure.

  He closed his eyes as the water hummed in his ears like the sea’s heartbeat. Ordinarily, the relaxing rhythm calmed him and drowned out all fearful thoughts of Estelle, morbid thoughts that pushed to the fore during moments of solitude. But a soul-deep contentment filled his chest. One attributed to the beautiful woman asleep in his bed. If marriage to the woman he’d thought lost to him was possible, so was the prospect of finding Estelle.

  A dark shadow passed over his closed lids. It moved back and forth before hovering overhead. A light breeze tickled his cheek, and his heart skipped a beat as he pictured Lillian standing over him, gazing upon his naked body.

  Fabian opened his eyes slowly, eager to savour the sight of her full lips and mussed hair. Perhaps he might catch her peeking in places she dared not look. But unless his wife had grown in a thick red beard during the night, something was dreadfully wrong with his imagined scene.

  “Good God, Mackenzie,” Fabian whispered through gritted teeth, his face mere inches from the Scot. He sat up, forcing Mackenzie to straighten.

  “Och, praise be. I thought you were dead.”

  “Keep your voice down else you’ll wake Lady Ravenscroft.” Fabian glanced at the closed curtains on the four-poster bed. “Is there something wrong?”

  Mackenzie raised the bucket in his hand. “You asked for more hot water, my lord.”

  “So I did. Leave it here, and I shall see to it myself.”

  Mackenzie nodded and placed the bucket on the floor. With a grimace, he tiptoed backwards as though it made his clunky steps quieter.

  No sooner had the door closed than the curtains twitched. Lillian poked her head out between the green velvet panels. “So, you’re a man who enjoys an early morning soak?”

  Early morning? It was almost twelve. “I’m a man who enjoys many of life’s pleasures.”

  “Did I not do a thorough job last night?”

  Fabian couldn’t stop a grin forming. “The answer depends upon whether we’re talking about bathing.”

  “What else would we be talking about?” Her tone held a seductive lilt.

  “I couldn’t possibly say.” He swished the water over his chest just to tease her. “But I am in need of your expert assistance.”

  Lillian raised a coy brow. “What, now?”

  “The water’s cold and needs heating up.”

  One slim ankle appeared through the gap in the curtain, followed by a soft creamy-white thigh. Her gaze darted nervously from the tub to the door.

  “I suggest you lock it. Mackenzie often forgets to knock.”

  Baring her naked body bit by bit, she eventually padded over to the door and turned the key. Fabian rested his head against the rim of the tub, entranced by the sight of her round buttocks.

  Holding her arms awkwardly across her stomach and chest, she came to stand before him. “Would you like me to pour warm water over your back, my lord?” A shiver shook her body, and her teeth chattered.

  “What I’d like is for you to get into the tub with me.”

  Her eyes grew wide as she scanned the length of his body. “There’s barely enough room for you in there.”

  “Trust me. I shall make room. Pirates are renowned for being resourceful.”

  “You’re not a pirate.”

  “I am now,” he said offering a wolfish grin. He sat up straight and pressed his back against the tub. “I intend to plunder your mouth and take your precious bounty.”

  Without further protest, Lillian stepped in and lowered herself down. She was right. There wasn’t any room, and she had to sit on his lap. Not that he had any complaint.

  “Lie back against my shoulder.” Fabian eased her gently back, swished water over her stomach and breasts until she relaxed.

  A chuckle escaped her lips.

  “What is it?”

  “For a moment, I imagined myself back at Sandford Hall, seeing Francis’ face as she appeared behind the screen to offer me my robe. My maid would swoon if she saw me like this.”

  Fabian took her hand and pressed her palm against his. “As I told you the night you arrived. Here, you’re free to be yourself. With me, you need never censor your words or actions.”

  The more time he spent with her, the more he glimpsed the fun-loving young woman he remembered. And yet, he liked the inner strength she possessed now, the strength that gave her the courage to blow a blade from a man’s hand and wield a sword like a warrior.

  “On the subject of maids,” he continued, threading his fingers with hers. “The one in Berkeley Square gave me a han
dful of dresses and undergarments. The trunk should be in your bedchamber, along with the pistols you requested and a small blade in a sheath.”

  As expected, Lillian tried to turn around to face him but could only glance up over her right shoulder. “You saw Vane?” Panic infused her tone. “Why did you not mention it before?”

  “We have been somewhat preoccupied since my return. Besides, Vane was out. Bamfield granted me entrance although I did not give the butler much choice in the matter.”

  Fabian had hoped to apprise Vane of the situation before he came to the island. Yes, they would have fought. But it would have spared Lillian any more heartache.

  “I waited for three hours, went to his club, visited the usual haunts. In the end, I had no choice but to write a letter.”

  “W-what did you say?” Her body trembled against his.

  “Nothing other than where he might find you. I left directions for him to come to Branscombe. The fishermen there know to ferry Vane across if need be.”

  Vane had visited the Eight Bells, almost throttled the landlord in a bid for information, although Jim told him nothing.

  “Did you mention our marriage?”

  “No. I thought it best we deliver the news in person.”

  “I see.”

  “All will be well. I promise you that.” He had every confidence Vane would come to accept the situation. But in the interim, it wouldn’t be pretty. “Come, the water is cold. Let’s climb back into bed, and you can tell me what you’ve been doing in my absence.”

  In an effort to stand, she came up on her knees and gripped the end of the tub for balance. The sight of her lush, round buttocks inflamed his desire.

  “On second thoughts, stay exactly where you are.” Fabian came up on his knees behind her.

  “Why, are you struggling to get out?”

  “We’re not getting out just yet.”

  He grabbed the bucket and emptied the hot water into the bath tub. Cupping his hands, he trickled the water over her back. He found the cake of soap and washed her, massaging the muscles in a slow seductive rhythm until her shoulders relaxed.

  “What would your maid think if she could see you now?” he drawled as he reached around and fondled her breasts.