Scandalous Brides

by Annette Blair

  When the carriage moved off, Hawk crossed to sit beside Alex, in want of her nearness. He took her hand, raised it to his lips and wished he were worthy of her.

  He also wished that he had as much faith in the institution of marriage as Gideon seemed to have.

  “They are very much in love, are they not?” Alex said, gazing off into some romantic distance, likely thinking of Chesterfield. “I envy them.”

  “Oddly, I do too, though I am not certain why.” He and Alex had been friends forever, Hawk thought. If she did not love elsewhere, she would be the best wife for him. He liked and respected her, admired her. After everything, he cherished her. If she were willing, he would happily take her to his bed every night for the rest of their days and be faithful unto death.

  If they were not already doomed to parting, it seemed to him, that love—if the myth existed—might enrich what they already shared. But no matter how hard he tried, Hawk could not wrap his mind around the disappointing and insubstantial concept. “Do you think it exists, really?”

  “Do I think what exists?”

  “Love. My parents preached it, until my mother’s early death, but I do not think they practiced it, as happens in every ton marriage I ever saw, until Gideon and Bree’s.”

  “I think love does exist. My father said it did. When he was last ill, he said that he had missed my mother for the entire sixteen years of my life, and though he was sorry to be leaving me, he was happy to be going to her.”

  “Love beyond life?” Hawk said. “Does that not seem improbable?”

  “Gideon and Sabrina appear to have such a love.”

  “If I had not seen those two tonight, I would say you are wrong, but I am beginning to believe it. Between them, the elusive emotion seems very much alive and thriving.”

  “With their children, the five of them epitomize what I have always supposed a family should—unity, caring, the sharing of even the smallest joys and sorrows.” Alex blushed and gazed out the window. “They are fortunate.”

  “Yes.” Hawk yearned for something like, himself, the closeness of mind and spirit that Gideon and Sabrina shared. Oh, he had always had women, but never someone so much his own that she would breathe for him, if she could.

  As Sabrina seemed willing to do for Gideon

  As Alex had always seemed willing to do for him.

  Hawk regarded Alex anew, then, as though…

  He shied away from the thought, for the staggering power of Gideon and Sabrina’s love alarmed him, as did the corresponding responsibility, which only made him feel less worthy and more determined to let Alex go.

  Yet despite that, he yearned to keep her hand in his and to walk beside her, however halting his steps, as long as fate, and Alexandra Wakefield, herself, would allow.

  Beyond life… Imagine.

  As if sensing his mood, Alex leaned her head against his shoulder and looked up at him, and Hawk could do nothing but open his lips over hers.

  He was going to unearth that jar of oil tonight and offer to rub her back for her, just so he could remove that black lace corset, himself.

  The Viscountess De Monteneiro’s Kensington Villa was everything Alexandra had supposed a villa must represent—a fortune in marble and gold, art and artifice, glitter and glut. Gaudy. Uncomfortable. Hot. Crowded.

  “A veritable crush. A sweeping success,” the raven-haired, husband-hunting Viscountess prattled effusively. Immediately as they entered, she set her sights on Hawk, but when she realized he was taken, she turned her narrowed kohl-lined eyes upon the man in the scarlet tunic.

  Reed winked at Alex, bowed over Claudia’s hand, made an irreverent comment about the power of a uniform, and gallantly escorted the Viscountess De Monteneiro into the middle of a verdant Italian marble dance floor, for the most scandalous of dances, the waltz.

  Hawk’s injured leg would not allow him to participate in that dance, but Alex was just as happy to lend him her arm as they strolled around the perimeter of the ballroom greeting old friends and meeting new. Some of their acquaintances had already learned that Hawk survived, but were seeing him now for the first time since he went to war. Others, who had not known, were astounded and excited.

  One matron fainted upon sight of him.

  “It is my scars,” Hawk whispered, standing back, as others attempted to bring her around.

  “It is your ghost,” Alex responded in kind.

  His friends all seemed to hold him in high regard, Alex noted, though the ones she had long ago overheard discussing beauty and his beast acted rude and knowing.

  “I dislike that bunch,” Alex said as they moved away.

  “I always knew you had excellent taste.”

  She stopped. “But they are your friends, are they not?”

  “Not,” Hawk denied with a firm shake of the head. “They are acquaintances to whom I had rather not give the time of day. Hangers-on, the lot of them. They talk an impressive talk, sometimes, but drivel slides off their tongues too much of the remaining time.”

  TWENTY-ONE

  REED GILBRIDE BOWED before Alex. “Alexandra, may I have the honor of this dance?”

  At her husband’s urging, Alex allowed his fellow rogue to lead her onto the dance floor.

  “You are preoccupied,” he said after a few silent minutes.

  Alex nodded. “Guilty. I apologize.”

  “Care to tell me about it?”

  “It appears as if I might have made a judgment based on flawed information.”

  “A common enough occurrence, and mostly harmless. Anything I can do to help?”

  “Tell me more of Belgium.”

  “Hawk’s time there, you mean? You are in love with your husband, I think. Is that not frowned upon in this society?”

  “You force me to say that you are impertinent and I must deny you an answer.”

  “You must, because you do not want your avowal repeated, I think. I wonder why?”

  “Tell me about the family who nursed him back to health? Did you ever meet them? What were they like? Did they live in a thatched hut or a brick manor?”

  “I never went to their home, but I did meet the patriarch and the boy, in fact, on the day they brought Hawk to the ship to sail home. I had a commission to dispatch for Wellington here in England and we traveled home together, Hawk and I.”

  “When was that?”

  “About eleven months ago.”

  Hawk had been back much longer than anyone knew, Alex realized then, but he had not contacted Gideon and Sabrina right away, either. The pain around Alex’s heart eased, somewhat, for after speaking to Sabrina, she now understood that he had taken the time he needed. “What did you think of the people who saved Hawk’s life?”

  “They were generous to house and nurse a man they did not know. The family was poor, that was apparent, though not so poor when Hawk left as when they took him in.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “As young Gaston accompanied Hawk, on his litter, aboard ship, the old man told me that Hawk had given them his gold buttons, his jewelry, everything he owned of value, including the greater portion of his military pay. The old codger tried to give it all back to me, so I could return it to Hawk. But I thought if he wanted them to have his thanks, then he would not take the gifts back, and I convinced the Belgian to keep it. Did I do wrong, Alex?”

  “No. Oh no. I would have given them anything for what they did,” she said, aware that the only jewelry Hawk had taken were his signet ring and his wedding band. “You have answered a question that has been plaguing me, though. I will purchase him a new signet ring for Christmas, perhaps. Do you remember if it was the one set with rubies, or emeralds? I cannot seem to recall.”

  “Hawk never wore a ring that I noticed in the months we fought together. I was surprised he had any to give them.”

  And for Alex, that said everything. His wedding band had received no better treatment than his signet ring.

  When Reed returned Alex to her husband�
��s side, however, the sight that met them made Alex feel as if the past five years had never happened, that they were back at the St. Albans Assembly Rooms, and she was a fool to love the Rogue of Devil’s Dyke.

  Women buzzed around Hawk like bees in a summer garden. Except that he looked as if he did not enjoy his popularity as much as he used to, which improved her mood somewhat. Still, she could not help disliking the beauties in his entourage for their lash-batting and simpering.

  “You might have discouraged them,” she told Hawk in the carriage on the way home.

  “Discouraged who?” he asked, taking her hand once more and cupping it upon his thigh, his atop hers, as if to keep it there. This time he had not even bothered to sit across from her, but beside her from the first.

  “The women who were flirting with you.”

  “Flirting? Are you daft? With this face?”

  “Are you blind? They were all about you.”

  “Reed or Claudia probably mentioned my catching the volley meant for Gideon, though I wish they had not. But there could have been no other reason, believe me, except a morbid curiosity for grisly details.” Hawk’s eyes lit with wisdom. “Are you jealous, Alexandra?”

  Alex sighed with disgust for overplaying her hand. “Of course not.”

  Hawk shrugged, philosophically. “I rather thought not.”

  “You seem to think it impossible that a woman would find you attractive.”

  “Alex, I am a fright. Of course it is impossible.”

  “I will grant you that as opposed to your former perfectly chiseled countenance, your scars give your perfection more of a hard edge, but you—”

  Alex thought Hawk would growl or laugh, he looked so incredulous. “There is nothing perfect about this face.”

  “Perhaps not, but your appearance is striking, nonetheless. I am extremely sorry to say that your scars give you an aura of danger that will draw women like moths to a flame.”

  ~ ~ ~

  “THE DEVIL YOU SAY.”

  Hawk and Gideon had an appointment at Gentleman Jackson’s the following day. Gideon suspected that a boxer’s footwork might strengthen Hawk’s leg, and Hawk thought anything worth trying.

  “Listen, Hawk,” Gideon said before they stepped from the carriage onto the pavement before the boxing salon. “When Bree and I use that aromatic oil, I find that only sandalwood soap removes the telltale scent of its perfume. You might take a few jests this morning for that air of the boudoir about you.”

  Hawk regarded his friend quizzically. “What aromatic oil?”

  “The one you and Alex obviously borrowed last night. I would know that scent anywhere. It makes me randy as hell.”

  “Well, stay the devil away from me.”

  “Do not be cross. What games a man plays with his wife in the bedchamber are his business.”

  “Obviously not, for you know more about it than I do. Tell me; are there any healing properties to this aromatic oil?”

  Sabrina introduced Alexandra to the most amazing and decadent wonder in all England, a huge bathing tub wherein one or two people could immerse themselves to their chins.

  Gideon had recently had them specially made in Edinburgh for all of his houses, including his grandmother’s. Sabrina said that some of her fondest memories had been created since theirs had been delivered.

  Alex was afraid that by the time her seduction was complete, she would not be able to look Sabrina’s husband in the eye again.

  She intended to use the tub that night and had come up to bed first, but she did not order it filled until she heard Gideon’s carriage depart. He and Hawk had been closeted together all evening discussing estate management and horse breeding.

  The last kettle of hot water was just being poured when Hawksworth entered his dressing room. “Here you are,” she said. “I thought that perhaps you would like a nice hot bath before retiring tonight. It is all ready.”

  Alex left her husband to keep his dignity and undress in peace, while she, in her own dressing room, undressed and slipped into a peach silk dressing gown.

  When she heard sounds to indicate Hawk was settling into the tub, she waited another few minutes before returning.

  Could his eyes have gotten any bigger, Alex wondered, than when he beheld her in the silk wrap that outlined her every curve?

  “God’s teeth, you are breathtaking.” Hawk seemed less appalled, for once, than fascinated, which Alexandra thought a very hopeful sign, indeed.

  “Thank you. Now close your eyes.”

  “Why on earth would I do that?”

  “So I may get in with you.”

  “Why would you do that?”

  “I do believe you are stuttering, Hawksworth. We seem to have misplaced the oil for my back, again, remember? And the hot water will ease my pain. Now close your eyes or I shall be forced to drop my wrap and offend your sensibilities.”

  Alex suspected from that sound deep in his throat that Hawk fought a chuckle as he closed his eyes. Then she waited one tantalizing moment, to see if he would peek, before lowering herself into the heated bliss.

  Hawk sprang to vibrant and willing life as his outrageous and seductive wife tangled her naked legs with his in the stroking water.

  That was when he began to believe that across the tub from him sat a seductress, formidable, determined, no matter how innocent she looked with her cinnamon hair piled atop her head, loose wisps framing her face. A siren, with the crests of her breasts skimming the top of the water. A woman. His woman.

  What would she do if he claimed her now, which he was beginning to believe she wanted? Of course she would wonder why he had not as yet made her his wife in every way. Except that, he would have thought, if she loved another, she would be relieved, not anxious for a consummation.

  Why the aromatic oil disguised as a healing salve?

  Where did he stand with her?

  Perhaps it was time to find out.

  “This is heaven,” Alex said, sighing and purring, her head resting against the edge of the tub, her eyes closed, a feline smile playing about her full and luscious lips.

  “Much like when we were children,” Hawk said, “when we swam after digging in the mud for treasure, except the sky is not blue above us and the water is a vast deal warmer.”

  Alex opened her eyes and grinned—God’s teeth, hers was a lethal smile. “And we cannot catch frogs or lie in the sun to dry,” she said.

  “How does your back feel?”

  “The warm water does soothe it.”

  “Come, turn around and I will soothe it the more.”

  As he suspected, Alex was ready, with barely a surprised blink, to try anything. Hawk spread his legs and settled her between them, her facing away from him.

  Kneading her torso beneath the warm water became an exercise in pure sensual pleasure, and the sounds and sighs coming from his wife only served to heighten the experience.

  When Hawk brought his arms around and began to stroke her midriff, Alex relaxed against him. When he cupped her breasts, she stiffened for a moment, likely in shock, and then she arched to fill his palms. But when he skimmed his hands lower, she about stopped breathing.

  He kneaded lower and lower… until he found her core, and she squeaked and reared back, encountered his erection, and surged forward, as if she planned all along to reclaim her original place across from him. “There,” she said. “That feels better.”

  Hawk coughed to hide a bubble of laughter, surprised that mirth had claimed him so wholly. “How did you know this tub existed?” he asked, to alleviate her obvious chagrin. “This is not the one in which I bathed previous.”

  “Is it not splendid? Sabrina said that the servants will always bring the small slipper bath, unless you ask specifically for this large one.”

  Alex must feel more adventuresome at a distance, Hawk thought, for she was calling his bluff and stroking his inner thigh with her foot. He closed his eyes then, and suspended his own breathing, for she was definitely wor
king her way higher and higher, until…

  Hawk wanted to kill Sabrina for this fantastical notion she put in his wife’s scheming head. He could not even rise and leave the bloody tub, because if he did, then the most horrible of his scars would be visible, not to mention the size of his—

  The moan of pleasure he heard must be his own, Hawk realized, which shocked him to the point that he opened his eyes, and met Alexandra’s very surprised ones. “What did I do?” she asked. “Did you like it? Or hate it?”

  “Liked it,” he said. “But do not expect me to run, as you just did.”

  “Did you feel as I did, before I ran?”

  “I think it highly possible.”

  “But you will let me do as I wish?”

  Hawk nodded, trepidation skittering along his nerves. “No more running for me,” he said, reminding himself as well as her. “Do what you will. I am staying where I am.”

  He expected she would rise on the instant, like a nymph from the sea, and make a startling exit from the tub. As a matter of fact, he looked forward to the sight.

  But while she did rise like a pearl-glistening sea nymph, she did not leave the tub, but stood, perfect in every way. Then she took two steps in his direction and looked down on him, smiling, full and deadly, and lowered herself to straddle him, luscious breasts to hairy chest and pulsing core to rod of steel.

  All Hawk’s fight left him as he surged to heartier life. He could do nothing but gape, and throb, and devour her mouth when she set her lips to his.

  He kissed his brazen wife with the appetite of a man starved for nothing resembling food. He skimmed her every curve and hollow, in the same way she grazed every inch of him.

  Every throbbing inch.

  When she closed her talented hand around him, her instincts were flawless.

  A year of celibacy and a week of hard torture… and Hawk came on the instant.

  “Bloody hell!”

  “Good Lord, did I break it?”

  TWENTY-TWO

  BAXTER WAKEFIELD came back to town on the thirteenth of November, and the first thing he did was show himself at Basingstoke House to pay his respects to his no-longer-deceased cousin Bry.