Night of Pleasure

by Delilah Marvelle

  Derek hadn’t been lying when he said he had a lot of family. She thought she had met every last one. Fortunately, merriment aside, none of them had gotten into any arguments. “Good night,” she called back as her gaze turned to the departing flock of colorful skirts, her view of the world limited to the round slits of her own Venetian mask.

  She lowered her gloved hand, realizing there was no one left in the ballroom but footmen and servants tending to the scraping of wax on the floors and the gathering of silver trays filled with leftover champagne. She pushed up her mask and glanced around. “Derek?”

  The servants kept scraping and gathering in silence.

  It was eerie. The whole house had gone quiet.

  Gathering her skirts, she made her way out toward the adjoining candle-lit corridor where shadows inked every corner. She could hear her own breaths. Where was he? She’d seen him about fifteen minutes ago. “Derek?”

  A large hand caught her gloved hand and tugged her back toward the wall the person was leaning against. “What took you so long?”

  Her heart popped. She bumped against his solid, muscled frame, pushing him into the wall. “What are you—”

  “I had to see the last of our guests out the door.” He grabbed her corseted waist with his other bare hand and molded her firmly to his body. “I practically threw them out.” Although half his face was hidden, his sultry brown eyes captured hers through the slits of the black mask hugging his brow and nose. “We should retire,” he said as his shaven jaw tightened. “What do you think?”

  Her heart pounded, knowing what he wanted. She couldn’t focus knowing that her breasts were pressed against his waistcoat and chest. But she tried. She focused on what she wanted most for them: a real relationship. Something her parents never had. “The stars are out,” she offered. “Do you want to go outside and talk?”

  He tightened his hold even more, making her fully aware of every rigid muscle in his body. “I’m not interested in talking or looking at stars. I’m looking at a star right now.”

  She stared up at his visible lips, remembering all too well how her entire body had erupted by the command of his tongue. He wasn’t making this easy. “I was hoping we could talk.”

  His mouth quirked. “After.” His hand slid across the back of her gown, his fingers tracing the stitched pearls sewn into her moonstone evening gown. “Expect to be up all night,” he whispered.

  He bent over and yanked her up and into his arms, startling her. He effortlessly carried her up the stairs and then deposited her onto the landing before him.

  His warm hand jumped to hers and tightened. Using his other hand, he stripped his mask and tossed it over the railing of the staircase below, causing his queue to come undone. His brown hair fell around his face and onto the top of his broad shoulders. He nuzzled her cheek. “I’m going to behave long enough for us to get into the room. I promise.”

  The heat of his mouth and stubbled jaw grazed her skin. In a half-daze, she desperately tried to piece together her own mind. “What were you like before I met you? Even crazier? Or more subdued?” It was a silly and unfocused question, but she was trying to get him to talk to her. About something. About anything.

  He drew away, his large hand tightening around her fingers. “Are you trying to seduce me? Is that what this is?”

  She let out an exasperated breath. “No. I’m trying to get to know you.”

  “We have our whole lives for that.” He walked them down the length of the corridor, hand in hand, until he paused before a closed door. He pushed it open and lifting her hand high into the air, guided her inside with a graceful whirl as if they were once again on the dance floor.

  She whirled to a halt on his command, her hand catching his broad shoulder.

  He searched her face heatedly, his features tightening. “I want you naked.”

  She pinched her lips, her hand still resting on his shoulder. So much for them being friends. “Derek, don’t you think maybe we should—”

  “Get naked? Brilliant idea.” He grinned, released her waist and stepped back, closing the door. “Take a quick look around, love. I ensured that the servants had everything in place before you retired. Let me know if there is anything else you need before the candles go out.”

  It was like talking to a dog that only saw the meat dangling from her hand. It was exhausting. Letting out a breath, she turned to what now was hers.

  The fourteen sizable trunks that had been delivered earlier and stacked with her belongings were gone, leaving the palomino silk-walled room more open. Her gowns were all neatly hanging within the massive wardrobe on the far wall that had been left open. Her ribbons, cosmetics, curl papers and perfumes were all neatly laid out on the white marble of the ornate dressing table that had once belonged to his grandmother.

  Her lips parted, realizing there was an easel angled into the far corner of the room. The painting of their night together had been set on it. She jerked toward him. “We really shouldn’t leave that out.”

  He waggled his brows. “We’ll only pull it out at night. We’ll cover it during the day, of course, so as not to startle the servants.” His smile faded. “Your talent is beyond anything I have ever seen, Clementine. Ever.”

  She sensed he meant it. “Thank you.”

  “In my opinion, you deserve to have anything you paint hanging in the National Gallery.”

  She sighed. “If only I had been born a man.”

  He snorted. “Do not say that to the man you just married. I rather need you to be a woman or this night could get awkward.”

  She rolled her eyes, knowing they were back to his favorite subject. She grudgingly turned to see the rest of the room. The large mahogany four-poster bed with its countless rose silk pillows and matching linens loomed a few feet away.

  She eyed the side table beside it, pausing.

  Realizing her music box wasn’t out, she removed her evening gloves and walked toward the dressing table, tossing both gloves onto it. She carefully opened and closed each drawer. As each drawer revealed only her ribbons and a hairbrush and jewelry and sashes, her heart pounded at the realization her music box wasn’t in any of the drawers at all.

  Derek walked over to her. “What are you looking for?”

  She slammed the last drawer closed. How was she going to sleep without it? “My music box.”

  “Allow me.” He walked over to the side table, opened it and pulled out a large ornate wooden box inlaid with ivory. “I asked the servants to put it in the drawer beside your bed as opposed to setting it out. That way it wouldn’t collect dust.”

  A breath escaped her. “Thank you.” She hurried over and carefully took it from his hands. “My father gave it to me on my birthday when I was eight. I play it every night. It helps me sleep.” She turned and lowering it onto the side table, centered it to ensure it was safe.

  She smoothed her hands across its inlaid surface, its real history hidden within the wood.

  She opened the lid, slid out the turning key tucked into its compartment beside the brass cylinder inside, and inserted it into the side of the box. Leaving the lid open for better sound, so that the pins of the comb could clink against the cylinder openly, she turned the key fifteen times, as she always did before going to bed, and let it chime the melodious tune of playful bells she’d known since she was eight. “There isn’t another one like it in the world. The music was composed specifically for this one box by a Boston musician who was hired to play at certain events for the President of the United States.”

  A large hand slid down the sleeve of her arm. Derek lingered from behind, the heat of his body penetrating hers as he pressed himself closer. “Fascinating.” His voice indicated otherwise.

  Trying to get him to talk about anything was like trying to explain philanthropy to a man sitting in prison. “The masked ball was wonderful. Wasn’t it?”

  The warmth of his masculine lips softly touched the exposed skin of her neck. “Mm.”

 
She swayed against the melody and his wandering lips that curved against her neck. “Your cousins…I…they were all very pleasant. How many do you have again?”

  His tongue slid across her exposed shoulder, nudging away the lace around the trim of her gown as both of his hands slid down and around her waist. He gripped and bundled the material of her gown while still gliding his tongue back and forth, delicately tracing and teasing her skin. “I have a confession to make,” he whispered.

  Her head rolled back as the heat of his mouth and tongue overtook her ability to think. “And what would that be?” she whispered back.

  “I don’t want to talk about my cousins while I’m doing this.” He turned her and grabbing her face, kissed her hard, his tongue finding its way into her mouth with a swiftness that almost made her choke.

  She stiffened against that dominating mouth, everything between them feeling strangely different. Because there was no way out. If anything went wrong, if anything fell apart between them, she was trapped in this forever.

  He broke away and in between heavy breaths said, “The next time I kiss you, heiress, I want you to make me feel like it’s welcome. Kiss me back and put your arms around me, will you? Don’t make me feel like I’m forcing myself on you.”

  She swallowed. “I’m sorry. I’m still getting used to—”

  He turned her away and unpinned and unlaced the material of her gown, his fingers pulling and stretching the satin away from her body.

  Her chest rose and fell in unsteady breaths knowing that they would be naked again.

  The fabric of her gown and its petticoats fell away and onto the ground. He turned her back toward himself and dug his fingers into her hair, moving them through to loosen all of the pins without having to pluck them. Most rattled out against the force, tinkering to the floor around them as the weight of her hair fell onto her shoulders.

  His rugged features stilled, his skin visibly flushed. “Much better.” He lingered, the heat of those smoldering brown eyes luring her into giving them both pleasure.

  Entertaining a conversation was clearly not what he had in mind. No surprise.

  Derek grazed his lips against hers, feeling everything tip like it always did when he touched and kissed her. He pulled away again and held her gaze, needing to know the one thing that had haunted him all morning, afternoon and night. He stepped back, a slow breath easing out of his lungs. “I wanted to ask you something.”

  She paused as if surprised that he stepped away. She brightened. “Of course. Ask me anything.”

  If it was over, she would tell him it was. If there was one thing he knew about her was that she was almost too honest. Which he needed right now. “Did you end your association with Nasser? Does he know he is to never contact you or call on you again?”

  Her fingers played with the satin of her exposed corset before she stripped the mask perched atop her head and tossed it, sending it fluttering to the floor. “Please don’t ask me to end my association with him. In truth, he is the only friend I have.”

  Derek felt the blood drain from his head. He had already spent all of the days leading up to his own wedding thinking about her naked in another man’s arms. And it ripped at his heart and his gut. She kept calling him a friend but Derek knew full well men and women only associated for one reason: the end result. “I can’t— Why are you doing this to me? Why do you need to see him?”

  She released a breath. “Nasser is my friend. He is also your friend. He—”

  He grabbed her face hard and forced her to look up at him. “He almost took you away from me. How can he be my friend?” He held her gaze, willing her to feel the intensity of what he felt and repeat what he had said to her at the altar. “I love you, Clementine. You do know that, yes?”

  Her features softened as she searched his face. “Yes.”

  “The night we shared brought you back to me. I know it did.” He used his thumbs to brush the silken skin around her pretty eyes. Eyes he was so thankful to see again. “We have to protect what we have. Do you understand? You can’t let another man come between us.” He released her and stepped back. “Where is he staying? I need to go resolve this and talk to him. Tonight, if need be.”

  Her brows came together. “Derek, you have no need to be jealous.”

  He tried to keep his voice calm. “I want to talk to him.”

  “It’s obvious you don’t mean to talk. You clearly mean to swing at him.”

  He set his shoulders. “Do you blame me? Given you almost left me for him?”

  “You don’t understand the situation. At all.”

  His chest rose and fell more heavily than he could control. “Damn right I don’t. You still haven’t told me about whatever arrangement you had with him. What the hell am I to think? What the hell am I to—”

  “Don’t you dare take that tone with me.” Her lips thinned. “I didn’t have to tell you about Nasser at all. But I did. I was honest with you about my association with him from the very first breath.”

  He edged in, his body pulsing. “Shall I extend my unending gratitude knowing you’re capable of being honest about the fact that while you were engaged to me, you were involved with him?”

  She stared up at him. “Nasser is like a brother to me. A brother. It isn’t romantic in nature. It never was. Nor will it ever be. So cease thinking the worst. Cease.”

  Derek found himself momentarily speechless. Stunned. He honestly didn’t know what to make of this. He wanted to trust her, if only to keep his mind from falling apart, but his gut told him no woman would try to run off with another man in the name of wanting to be his sister.

  After pushing out a few uneven breaths, he admitted, “I don’t believe you.”

  Her eyes flashed. “And how is that my fault?”

  He tried to shove aside his distrust, his anger and his jealousy in an attempt to understand. He tried. “What are you not telling me? Clementine, I can’t understand you or this situation if you don’t tell me. What happened between you and Nasser? Was it love? Was it more? Did you spend a night with him after you spent a night with me? Tell me.”

  “I didn’t spend a night with him.”

  “Then why do you feel the need to continue your association with him?”

  “Because he and I are friends.”

  “Friends. I see. So what was the original agreement you and he had? I want you to tell me about it. Right now.”

  Her voice wavered. “I can’t tell you.”

  Ice spread across his chest. “Can’t? Or won’t?”

  “Please.” Her lips trembled. “Don’t do this.”

  This Nasser did something to her. He could see the panic and fear in her eyes. “I’m going to kill him,” he rasped. “I’m going to kill him, because it’s obvious he—”

  “Stop it,” she choked out. “I’m devoted to you, Derek. I married you, didn’t I? But I am also devoted to Nasser. He is the only real friend I have ever had in my life. The only real friend I—”

  “Stop talking about him as if you and he share something more than we do. Because you can’t be devoted to him and me. You can’t—”

  “Leave.” She pointed a finger to the door, her body trembling. “You obviously don’t know what is and isn’t capable between men and women, and I don’t like how you’re making me feel. I don’t like how you’re assuming the worst while treating me like an object you can’t even share a conversation with. Because this isn’t what I want in a relationship, Derek. This isn’t what I—” She clapped her hands over her ears and squeezed her eyes shut.

  It was like watching a child who needed a reprieve from a thunderstorm.

  He swallowed, knowing he was upsetting her. He softened his voice. “Clementine.” He reached out for her, trying to gently drag her toward himself. “Come here. Let me—”

  “Don’t.” She scrambled back and away, searching his face. “I didn’t ask you to touch me or coddle me, Derek. I asked you to leave. Because you’re clearly not interested
in talking to me as if I were a person.”

  He had to stay calm. He had to believe he meant more to her than this Nasser did. “It’s obvious you aren’t ready to talk about what you and he share. And I’m fine with that. I’ll just…” He held out a hand, willing himself to trust her. “It’s late. Come to bed.”

  She shook her head. “No. I’m not— You haven’t earned it.”

  He dropped his hand. “Haven’t— You’re my wife.”

  “I see. And that makes you think you can bed me anytime you want?”

  “Jesus, why am I suddenly the villain in this?” He let out a breath, trying to calm himself. “I am genuinely worried about you and this entire situation. It doesn’t sit right with me. And until you explain it to me, you cannot expect me to let it go.” He undid his cravat and stripped his coat, whipping it onto the bed. He unbuttoned his waistcoat, shrugging it from his shoulders and tossed it onto the bed, as well, yanking out his linen shirt from his trousers.

  She eyed him. “What are you doing?”

  “Getting ready for bed. What else? Hopefully, if we stare up at the ceiling long enough, you’ll be able to tell me what the hell is going on. I have a right to know about the agreement you and this-this…Nasser had made. Don’t you think?”

  Her eyes became pools of appeal. “You cannot and will not insist on knowing something I cannot tell you. Nasser is heir to an entire country on the verge of another war. I vowed to protect him in the same way he vowed to protect me. Do you understand?”

  He lowered his chin. “How can I understand? You haven’t told me anything.”

  She snapped a finger toward the door. “Leave.”

  “No.” He yanked off his boots, sending each thumping to the hardwood floor. “And because I’m such a good friend, I’ll keep my shirt and trousers on even though it’s my wedding night. How is that?” Without sparing her a glance, he rounded the bed, whipped back the linen and climbed in, flopping himself back onto the pillow. He hit the pillow beside him. “Now get in. I expect your arms to be around me. Right now.”

  She narrowed her gaze. “Don’t you dare rile me, Derek. Don’t you dare.”