Rebel Love (Heart's Temptation Book 2)

by Scarlett Scott

  The dowager was being helped out of her gown by Hollins. She cast a horrified look in Bella’s direction as the door closed soundly behind her.

  “Arabella, good heavens! You cannot simply go barging about my chamber. This is unheard of. Can’t you see I’m preparing for a nap?” The dowager’s expression was startled, and unless Bella was mistaken, just a trifle guilty.

  “Maman, I should like a word alone with you,” Bella announced, her tone one of steel.

  Hollins stopped in her ministrations, leaving the dowager’s bodice hanging around her waist, her arms still bedecked in lacy white undersleeves. “My lady?”

  “Whatever you’d like to discuss can wait, my dear.” The dowager harrumphed, but the result was rather comical given that she was half-dressed.

  “It cannot.” Bella crossed her arms over her bosom and stared down her mother. “I require a dialogue with you, and I don’t want an audience.” She pinned the dowager’s lady’s maid with a meaningful glare. “Hollins, you may go.”

  But the dowager was ever stubborn. “Hollins, you may stay. I have no wish to speak just now as I am extraordinarily fatigued.”

  “I suppose she may as well stay,” Bella said at last, losing her tenuous grasp on her patience, “seeing as how she aided you in your hideous campaign of stealing my correspondence.”

  The dowager’s brows snapped together. “I am not a thief. I merely read a few of your letters from the duke to ascertain his intentions. Who can blame a mother for being protective of her daughter?”

  “It isn’t those letters I’m speaking of, and you know it,” she countered, unmoved. “Mr. Whitney told me that he left a letter with his manservant for me explaining his abrupt departure. He also claims he sent me dozens of letters during his time in Virginia, and yet I never received a single line from him.”

  Her mother’s face went pale. “If that no-account American is deceiving you regarding correspondence he didn’t bother to write you, I fail to see how I may be involved.”

  “He isn’t deceiving me. You are.”

  The dowager sniffed. “I am horridly offended by your unfair accusation. Apologize at once.”

  “It is you who owes me an apology.” Bella shook her head, still shocked that her mother could stoop to such a cruel level of interference in her life. “You also owe one to Mr. Whitney, as your tampering with his letters has led to a grave misunderstanding between us.”

  “I didn’t tamper with a single letter,” the dowager declared. “I won’t offer an apology where none is due.”

  But Bella wasn’t about to be swayed. “His manservant at Marleigh Manor happens to be a cousin to Hollins. He told me he gave the man a letter for me, a letter that I never received. It doesn’t require much thought to draw a conclusion as to why he would withhold the letter. You gave yourself away in the drawing room.”

  At last, the dowager’s façade cracked, giving way to a hint of worry beneath. “What business did Whittlesby have sending you secret messages? I was merely doing my duty as your mother and trying to protect you from making the greatest mistake of your life. Don’t you see how disastrous a match this is for you?”

  Bella’s shoulders sagged. She had wanted, despite her conviction that her mother was at the heart of the missing letters, to be wrong. “What you have done is disastrous,” she said, the fight seeping out of her. “I don’t know if I can forgive you for this.”

  “I have done nothing which requires forgiveness,” the dowager insisted, appearing incredibly ridiculous in her undergarments and skirts. “You could have been a duchess, but you, like your brother, refused to be governed by your head. I had to do something. If that wretched American hadn’t returned when he did, I daresay you would be betrothed to the duke now instead.”

  While she understood that her mother thought her actions had been justified, Bella couldn’t absolve her so easily. She had suffered for months, not knowing if Jesse would return, thinking he’d abandoned her without a word, and all that time, the dowager had been secreting his letters. All that time, all that pain and anguish, and the dowager had known.

  “I suppose I ought not to be surprised by what you’ve done,” she murmured at last. “But I am thoroughly disappointed in you.”

  “You’re my only daughter,” the dowager snapped back, her gray eyes flashing with anger. “A mother must know what is right when her daughter does not.”

  “It was not for you to decide.” Sadness overtook her then. “I’m going to speak with Thornton. I would like Cleo to oversee my trousseau instead. I can’t bear to look at you just now.”

  Her mother became red as a beet root. “You cannot! I’ll not have that woman taking my place!”

  Bella inclined her head. “I’m afraid I can. It seems you’re fated to hate both of the spouses your children have chosen. I can only hope that in time, you will soften and see reason.”

  With that, she quit the chamber, leaving the dowager to sputter behind her.

  esse came to her in the gardens. She’d sent a note to him via Levingood, making certain to eschew his manservant, lest any more of their correspondence go hopelessly astray. The day was cold and gray, but she knew a surge of warmth when she saw him striding toward her on the path. She couldn’t help but think of how much they’d been through together, how much he had come to mean to her over the years. What she’d felt for him had initially been a girlish fancy. She’d been too inexperienced and immature to know the difference. But the love that had grown inside her for him was real. It still beat within her racing heart. It had always been there though her hurt had forced her to tamp it down.

  He stopped as he reached her, taking her cold hands in his. “What is it, Bella? I came to you as quickly as I could.” His Virginia drawl sent a frisson of desire snaking through her.

  She met his vivid gaze. “It would seem I owe you an apology.”

  “Indeed?” He raised a golden brow. “I thought it was I who owed you an apology after Clara’s meeting with you. I know she was rather rude to you and your mother both. I have no excuses for her other than that she’s going through a difficult time, having lost her mother and now being so far from the only home she’s known.”

  She smiled. That was a rather politic way of putting the girl’s behavior, to her mind. “I think Miss Jones and I have reached an understanding of sorts. We shall get on just fine. I have no doubt of it.”

  “I hope so.” He squeezed her hands and raised them to his lips for a lingering kiss. “I wish I didn’t come to you with a wagon full of valises.”

  Bella pulled a hand free and pressed it to his whisker-stippled cheek. He hadn’t shaved this morning, she noted, savoring this small intimacy between them. Much had come to pass, but she believed they could mend the cracks between them. She had to hope.

  She took a deep breath. “I have some valises of my own in the form of my mother. She took the letters you’d written for me. Every one of them.”

  “I see.” He paused, appearing to mull over her revelation. “Your mother likes me about as much as she likes tradesmen, Americans in general, and tardiness.”

  His words stole a laugh from her. “I suppose you know her well.”

  Jesse searched her gaze. “She merely knows, as I do, that you are far too good for the likes of this ragtag Virginia boy.”

  She cast a deliberate glance over the fine, gentlemanly figure he cut. “You’re hardly ragtag,” she pointed out. “I am sorry for believing the worst of you. I never thought my mother would have stooped to such awful meddling.”

  “You needn’t apologize, my dear.” His expression grew serious. “I deserved it, leaving you as I did. I’ll never forgive myself for that.”

  She pressed a finger over his sensual lips. “Pray, don’t speak of it again.”

  He kissed the digit. “I must. I’ve been able to think of precious else since I learned what you’d been through. I would give anything to go back in time and right the wrong I’ve done you. I would never have left
you knowing that you were carrying our babe.”

  That he had left her so abruptly still hurt, as did the loss of the babe they would never know. But she could empathize with his struggle. She knew the war had taken a toll upon him, and that he likely hadn’t been in a normal state of mind when his past had once again come calling. She also well understood that his honor would demand he return to care for his daughter. And as Cleo had so recently said to her, she knew that if they ever wanted to move forward, their past would have to remain where it was. In the past.

  However, before they put their mistakes and misunderstandings behind them, she needed to let him know that she was responsible for the miscarriage. The guilt of her foolish actions weighed her down heavily. Had she never gone riding that day, everything would be different now. She wanted him to know she was at fault.

  “I very much regret losing the babe.” The words were difficult to say. “I wish I could change what happened, but I suppose the world is not always ours to command.” She paused, not wanting to reveal the rest to him, but knowing she must. “There is something I must tell you, Jesse.”

  Seeming to sense the turbulent emotions churning through her, he put an arm around her waist, drawing her against the comfort of his big, lean body. His hands spread over her back, stroking and soothing as his eyes searched hers. “What is it, my love?”

  “I caused the miscarriage.” Bella took a deep, steadying breath. “I was out riding before a storm, and I lingered too long when I ought not to have. My mare startled, I was tossed to the ground, and when I woke, the babe was already gone.”

  In the span of days and weeks since that dreadful day, she had purposefully kept thoughts of the babe at bay as best as she could manage. But in the safety of Jesse’s arms, the reality of it crashed over her. She’d never been able to grieve. Not truly, for almost no one had known. The tears came slowly at first, her sobs soul-deep.

  “Don’t cry,” he whispered. “You mustn’t punish yourself for what’s happened. You weren’t at fault, darling. We are just beginning, and we have a lifetime waiting for us.”

  He pressed a kiss to her cheek and she wept all the more for the gentleness he showed her. Jesse took a handkerchief out of his pocket and used it to wipe at her tears, drying her face. She allowed him to perform the tender ministrations, her heart swelling even more within her breast. He was a good man, scarred on the inside and imperfect as anyone, but a very good man nonetheless.

  “Do you forgive me, Jesse?” she asked, wanting to hear it from him. It felt like heaven to be back in his arms. It was where she most longed to be. It was where she belonged.

  He was her home, she thought simply. Jesse Whitney was her home, her heart, and the man she would always love more than life itself. Not time, not distance, not her mother, nor anyone else, could come between them again. She vowed it to herself as much as to him.

  “There isn’t anything to forgive.” He caught her face, tipping it up to his. “Nothing can take away the pain of loss. I know it well. But together, we can go on, discover the happiness we’ve always been meant to share.”

  “Together,” she repeated. “I like the sound of that.”

  “As do I,” he said, a slow, knowing smile spreading over the lips she’d grown to love so much. He lowered his head and sealed their mouths in a passionate kiss.

  Bella’s arms went around his neck. It had been so long since she’d shared a true embrace with him. She opened to him, moaning when his tongue slid past her lips to taste and claim. Bella kissed him back with every bit of pent-up longing that had been simmering within her for the past few months. Her hat got in the way and she knocked it from her head, not having the patience for any encumbrance, however fashionable it may be. Their kisses turned voracious, as though they could somehow consume one another.

  He pulled away, dragging his lips down over her neck, his breath hot and wet upon her eager skin. “Ah, Bella. I’ve missed you so desperately.”

  “Not as much as I’ve missed you,” she murmured, holding him tightly against her. She wished she were not trussed up in so many layers that kept her from feeling him as she wanted. As it was, she was impeded by her dolman, walking dress, petticoats and miscellaneous undergarments, and her hated corset. It seemed to be tightening upon her ribcage by the moment.

  He sighed, disappointing her by setting her away from him. “Much as I would like nothing better than to take you in my arms and carry you directly to your chamber, I’m afraid your brother will murder me for good this time. And if I have you in my arms for one moment more, I’ll be tossing you over my shoulder and looking for the nearest spot to have my wicked way with you.”

  Desire sluiced over her, heady and potent. She hadn’t forgotten what it felt like to make love with him, and now that they were betrothed, their differences mended, she couldn’t wait to share his bed again. Perhaps it was wanton and wrong of her, but she didn’t give a fig. Jesse had taught her how to be a woman in form as well as name, and she wouldn’t return to the naïve girl she’d been for all the gold in the world.

  “While I don’t want Thornton to do you harm, I’d like nothing more than for you to carry me away right now,” she said, meaning the words. Since her path in life had been decided, she was eager to plunge headlong down it rather than linger at her brother’s country estate like a young girl waiting for her comeout ball.

  He grinned. “You tempt me sorely, but I dare not until we’re properly wed. Come, let us find our way back inside before we’re missed and you’re left with a suitor sporting a broken nose.”

  “Very well.” With a sigh, she allowed him to retrieve her hat before following him back to the main house. She could only pray that the weeks until their wedding would fly quickly by, for she didn’t think she could wait a moment longer.

  Bella stared at herself in the enormous gilt-framed mirror in her new bedchamber. She wore a nightdress that had been crafted just for the occasion. Her wedding night. Constructed of finest linen and handmade lace, the nightdress was thin to the point of being sheer. Long, white and diaphanous, its sole embellishment was an embroidered set of initials upon her breast that she’d sewn herself, a J and a B. Jesse and Bella. She hoped he would notice before he peeled the garment from her.

  The days of proper courtship had slipped by like the scenery outside a train window, torpidly until they at last reached their destination. Thornton had determined the wedding ought to occur before the start of the Season, and Bella had concurred. She hadn’t desired a massive affair. They were married in the chapel at Marleigh Manor, attended by Jesse’s daughter, the disapproving dowager, and Thornton and Cleo. Immediately after their vows, they left for their new home and new beginning in London.

  And now, here she was, Mrs. Jesse Whitney at last. A smile curved her lips as she stared at her reflection. Finally, she was Jesse’s wife, and she had to admit that it was wonderful, more wonderful even than she’d supposed it would be. He was her husband. The gold band on her finger, along with the ruby she’d only just become accustomed to wearing, made her feel complete. She was married, and she couldn’t be happier. To be sure, they faced some obstacles. Clara wouldn’t be easy to win over. There would always be his war demons. But Bella felt certain that in time, the rest of their lives would fall into place.

  Now all she needed was her groom. The door joining their chambers clicked open, and as if she’d conjured him, there he was. Jesse’s eyes met hers, sending a jolt of awareness through her. A fierce possessiveness surged through her. He was hers.

  At last.

  He flashed her a wicked grin that brought his dimple out of hiding. Blessed angels’ sakes, he was a handsome man. The mere sight of him, tall and lean, clad in only a masculine dressing gown, was enough to send a pulse of need straight to her core. She was at once eager and nervous for what was to come. She knew now the mechanics of it, the sweeping feelings lovemaking evoked. But she still felt very much a novice, uncertain of what she ought to do.

 
He surprised her by offering her an elegant drawing room bow as if they were courting in mixed company and not husband and wife, disrobed and alone. “Mrs. Whitney, you are astoundingly lovely.”

  “Thank you, sir,” she said, taking up his game with equal formality. She dipped into a curtsy, which felt odd indeed without the proper encumbrance of her skirts and petticoat.

  His gaze roamed hungrily down over her. “I surely hope your husband doesn’t know I’m in your chamber.”

  She smiled, glad for the levity as it lessened her anxiousness. “If you’re very nice, I shan’t tell him.”

  “He’s one hell of a lucky man, that husband of yours,” he drawled, his accent sliding over her as if it were a caress. “And I have a feeling he won’t want to share you.”

  She raised a brow, feigning innocence. “Not even with the Duke of Dullness?”

  “Most definitely not with the damn Duke of Dullness or anyone else.” He closed the distance between them, striding across the chamber to slide his arms around her waist and anchor her to him. “You’re mine now, Bella.”

  “And you’re mine,” she returned, reaching up to run her hand over his beloved jaw.

  “May that be a blessing and not a burden to you.” He kissed her palm. “I will do my damnedest to make you happy.”

  “You’ve already made me quite happy,” she said quietly, meaning the words. They’d begun their betrothal on uncertain grounds, but she felt confident that they could more than recover. Their love had already withstood loss, distance, and hurt.

  “Happiness is a fleeting thing sometimes.” His expression hardened, his tone growing serious. “I know.”