“Oh, Jesse.” Tears stung her eyes to think how much he must have endured. “I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be.” He looked up at her, his eyes glittering with moisture. “I never would have met you if not for my past. After what had happened, the South was in ruins. I was in ruins. I left without a clue where I was headed, and I never looked back.”
“Until circumstances forced you to,” she finished for him.
“I wouldn’t trade you or Clara for a life of comfort and ease.” He cupped her face in his hands. “I’d go to war all over again just for the chance to be your husband.”
She released a sob then, part happiness, part sadness. “I love you so very much, Jesse Whitney.”
“And I love you, my darling,” he murmured before claiming her lips in a voracious kiss. “I’m sorry for not being entirely honest. I should have told you everything, but I was too damn afraid of losing you. Can you forgive me?”
“Of course,” she said without pause. “I only want to ease your burdens. Promise me that from now on you’ll no longer suffer in silence?”
“God, I don’t know how I was somehow fortunate enough to find you.” His voice was hoarse, his gaze intense.
Bella smiled, relieved for her tears to subside. How lovely it was to simply rejoice in the love they shared. “I feel precisely the same way.”
He grinned, his dimple reappearing with irrepressible charm. “Maybe you can’t get to heaven without first going through hell.”
“However we got here, all that matters now is that we’re here together,” she said firmly. “And I’m not going anywhere.”
“Nor am I.” He pressed his forehead to hers.
“I mean it,” she pressed on. “I’m spending the night right here by your side, tonight and every other night after.”
His mouth flattened into a thin, stubborn line. “Bella—”
“Nonsense,” she interrupted. “Nothing you can say shall change my mind. No more hiding away here on your own. We’re in this together, Jesse.”
“I never know when they’ll come upon me, Bella. I won’t have you hurt for all the world.” He caressed her cheek. “You’re too precious to me.”
She shook her head, her decision already made a long time ago. “I don’t give a fig about your nightmares. My place is by your side, and by your side is where I’ll stay.”
His eyes gaze burned into hers. “My darling girl, what would I do without you to slay my dragons?”
Heart bursting with love, Bella leaned into him to seal their mouths in a hungry kiss. “You’ll never have to find out, my love.”
“Thank God,” he said on a groan, crushing her to him for another kiss that was as fiery as the passion burning between them. He lifted the delicate fabric of her nightdress over her head, and they both quite promptly forgot about everything but one other and the powerful bond of love they shared.
daresay your time in England thus far has been a most improving experience for you, Miss Whittlesby. You aren’t looking nearly as dowdy as you once were.”
Bella suppressed a sigh as she glanced up from her dinner plate to the dowager, who was presiding over the family gathering like the proud—if a trifle rude—matriarch she was. Poor Clara was doing her best to maintain her composure. Dressed in a navy gown, she was looking quite the demure young lady. Her shopping escapades with Lady Stokey and her finishing lessons had truly transformed her. Looking at her now, one would never guess that she wasn’t an English lady born and bred. She was settling in well to her London surroundings.
“Maman,” Bella felt compelled to protest on her stepdaughter’s behalf, for she had recently decided to be known as Miss Whitney rather than Miss Jones, and it pleased Jesse greatly. “You must cease insisting upon mispronouncing our family name. It’s Whitney.”
Her mother’s hawk like countenance turned upon her. She raised an imperious brow. “Just so. That’s precisely what I said. Is it not?”
Jesse gave her hand a gentle squeeze, as if to remind her that while the dowager had softened in some surprising ways over the last few months, she was still after all the dowager, a cunning curmudgeon who would never completely budge from her old ways. “It is indeed, my lady,” he drawled, offering a quick wink to Bella.
She sent a grateful smile his way. Thank heavens her husband seemed to possess infinite amounts of patience, particularly where the dowager was concerned. She and her mother had begun to mend the damage between them. Bella wasn’t entirely ready to forget the dowager’s unwanted interference, but she was willing to forgive.
The dowager harrumphed. “I fear you’ve something in your eye, Mr. Whittlesby,” she announced sharply.
“Perhaps it’s a tear of joy?” Thornton suggested with a rascal’s grin. “I’m sure he finds dinner with you to be a most improving experience, Mother.”
Cleo pinned her husband with a halfheartedly stern frown. “Alex, must you forever be stirring up trouble?”
Bella couldn’t help but laugh. What an odd assemblage they made, she and her American husband holding court for the first time at their Belgravia house. Life could take the most perplexing turns and twists sometimes, a bit like a maze designed by an overzealous head gardener. But in the end, she wouldn’t trade it for a quiet life as the Duchess of Devonshire. Not for even a moment.
The dowager sniffed. “It would seem my son excels at stirring up trouble. He’s been up to an awful lot of it recently.”
Thornton grinned, unabashed. “At least no one can ever accuse the de Vere family of being boring.”
“Much to the dismay of my weak old heart,” the dowager bemoaned. “I shouldn’t be surprised if it gives out on me altogether before too long.”
“Funny that,” Jesse whispered to Bella, “I’d swear she didn’t have a heart.”
“What was that, Whittlesby?” the dowager demanded, at her most regal. “I daresay you Americans have not heard that it simply isn’t done to whisper at the dinner table.”
“I’m sure we haven’t, my lady,” he murmured, somehow managing to maintain a serious expression.
It was Bella’s turn to send him a wink. She’d never been more in love. Indeed, it seemed with each day that passed, the feelings she had for him only deepened. “Perhaps we ought to have sent you to finishing lessons with Clara,” she suggested, enjoying the freedom of having her own household. She could occasionally bait the dowager without suffering any more serious consequences than a brutal harrumph.
“Don’t be foolish, Arabella,” her mother scolded. “I’m pleased to at least find you’ve enlisted a fine English cook here. Otherwise, I should despair.” She took a bite of her roast. “There is nothing better in the world than good English cuisine. I simply can’t abide by the French and all their sauces.”
Bella didn’t have the heart to tell the dowager that their chef was in fact a Frenchman lest her mother spit her roast upon the snowy table linens in her horror. “I’m pleased you’re enjoying dinner,” she said instead.
Her mother had made some progress, but she still detested foreigners. At least she no longer referred to Cleo as that woman. Some small battles had been won if not the war. For now, it was enough of a coup to simply have their family all seated around the same table. The sight of Thornton and Cleo, so clearly in love and blissful, thrilled her. Just a month before, they’d celebrated the birth of their first son. Clara too was smiling, more at home than she’d ever been, on the cusp of womanhood. Even the dowager managed a half-smile, but whether it was because of the roast or for Bella’s sake, she’d never know for certain. What she did know was that they had all truly found their happiness.
“We shall have to make a habit of this,” the dowager said. “Now that we’ll be planning Clara’s comeout, I expect I’ll be spending a great deal of time with you.”
Bella looked at her mother askance. She hadn’t realized the dowager was planning on aiding in Clara’s entrée into society.
“Why are you looking at me as
if I’ve sprouted a horn?” her mother groused. “I’m sure you’ll need my aid.”
She smiled, noting the brief look of horror on her stepdaughter’s face. “Of course we shall. Thank you, Maman.”
“You’ve very welcome, I’m sure.” The dowager sniffed and continued eating her roast.
The rest of the dinner passed in the comfort of familial ease. Bella was heartened to have her family all beneath one roof, their conflicts and troubles a thing of the past. The time had never been better to move forward into the glittering future awaiting them.
Later that evening, Bella eagerly awaited Jesse in her chamber. She’d taken extra care with her evening toilette, for she had a very important announcement to make to him. Smith had left her hair unbound just the way he preferred it, and she wore a nearly transparent nightdress she’d had imported from Paris. She dearly hoped he would be as thrilled as she was.
She thought then of Jesse and how far they’d come together. He’d been making slow but steady progress over the course of the last few months, and his inner strength never ceased to amaze her. He still suffered from nightmares but they were gradually becoming less frequent. She knew there was the possibility that he would be subject to them his entire life, but she also knew that together they could surpass any obstacles they faced. They hadn’t stopped sharing a chamber since the night she’d found him down the hall. As a result, their lives were about to become even more complete.
The door between their chambers clicked open. She looked up with a welcoming smile as her husband sauntered across the carpet to where she sat before her mirror. He was handsome as ever, clad in only a dressing gown. When he reached her side, he stopped and took her hands in his large, calloused grip.
“Your nightdress is positively sinful,” he murmured, his scorching gaze traveling over her body as he raised her hands to his lips for a lingering kiss. “I love it.”
She allowed him to bring her to her feet. “How do you think dinner went?” she asked, curious for his opinion. She had missed her family’s presence in her life, and with the Season in full bloom, she was glad to once more have them close at hand. The dowager seemed to truly be relenting. Bella couldn’t believe her mother had actually deigned to offer her support for Clara’s comeout.
“I think it went astoundingly well,” he said thoughtfully. “Your mother kept her insults to a decided minimum and didn’t so much as mention my troublesome treatment of vowels.”
Bella laughed and gave his arm a playful swat. “How ungentlemanly of you to draw attention to my mother’s shortcomings.”
“I never said they were shortcomings,” he countered with a grin.
“She’s a bear and you know it.” She slid her arms around his neck and leaned into the familiar, hard strength of his body. “At least she’s taken to Clara.”
“I am grateful for that.” His hands settled possessively on her waist, anchoring her to him.
Bella was quiet for a few beats, gathering her courage before she plowed onward. “Jesse?”
He gazed down at her, his expression open and loving. “Yes, sweetheart?”
“Do you think Clara would like a brother or a sister?”
Jesse raised a brow. “I’m sure she wouldn’t mind a little scalawag scampering about one day. I suppose I haven’t given the prospect much thought. Have you?”
She hesitated. “Rather a bit more in the last month or so.”
“Bella?” His stormy blue gaze trapped hers, searching. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying that I’m with child,” she finally confessed on an exhaled breath.
His jaw went slack. “Are you certain?”
She nodded, still unaccountably nervous. “Quite.”
A slow grin spread over his face, his dimple appearing in full force. “I’m going to be a father again.”
“Yes, you are.” She pressed her palm to his bristly cheek. “I hope you’re pleased.”
“Pleased?” He dropped a hard, quick miss to her mouth. “Hell, I’m ecstatic. I couldn’t be happier.”
Smiling back at him, she rose on her tiptoes to fuse their lips once more. “Nor could I.”
“Ah, my own sweet Bella.” He held her tightly, sounding slightly dazed by her revelation. “You’ve made me whole again. I have no idea how you managed it, but somehow you did.”
“Love,” she said simply. “All it required was love.”
Read on for an excerpt of Book 3
in the Heart’s Temptation Series, Reckless Need.
Heart’s Temptation Book 3
Heath, the Duke of Devonshire, has been living a passionless life of penance after losing the woman he loved. Determined to do his duty, he’s in search of an innocent bride with a sterling reputation. A bride who’s nothing at all like Tia, Lady Stokey.
The Duke of Devonshire may be handsome, but he’s as boring as a bowl of porridge. Or so Tia thinks until he carries her to her chamber and undoes half her buttons while kissing her senseless.
The moment he scoops the delectable Tia into his arms, Heath wants her in his bed, and he’ll stop at nothing to have her there. When they unleash the scandal of the century, they must face consequences that are deeper and far more dangerous to their hearts than either of them imagined. Will they find love, or was the reckless need between them doomed from the start?
East Anglia, England, 1882
If there was one thing in the world that Tia, Lady Stokey, adored, it was parties. Give her a good fête, an army of new dresses, an entertaining assortment of guests and she was a happy woman.
Under ordinary circumstances, that was.
Grumbling to herself, she trekked through the maze at the Marquis of Thornton’s hunting estate, Penworth, in search of her wayward charge. A mere hour after their arrival for a country house party, Tia had discovered Miss Whitney missing from her bedchamber.
“In need of a nap, my bottom,” Tia grumbled, stalking around a corner. If only the hedges weren’t so frightfully high and she so irritatingly diminutive in height. But of course, that would have rather nullified the purpose of a maze, she supposed.
The young Miss Whitney had declared the need for a respite after their travel through the countryside, and Tia had acquiesced. But suspicion had brought her round to collect the girl early, where she’d discovered only a note telling her that her charge had decided to take a restoring turn about the gardens instead.
“Restoring indeed,” Tia scoffed, her ire growing with each step. She had a dreadful feeling that her charge was going to prove much more than a handful. After all, she recognized herself in the girl, and it was one of the reasons why she’d agreed to help introduce her to society.
The sound of gravel shifting interrupted her cantankerous musings. She stopped, holding her breath to listen. It sounded as if Miss Whitney was perhaps just around the next bend, behind the thick hedges obscuring Tia’s vision. Smiling in triumph, she grabbed her skirts and hurried around the turn in the maze.
“Ah ha,” she called out in delight. “I’ve found you now, you little minx.”
But her moment of triumph was terribly abridged, for the noise-making culprit, seated on a bench before her, was not Miss Whitney. Nor, in fact, was it even a female. Quite the opposite.
Dear heavens. Eyes the same wistful color as a summer sky met hers, stealing her breath. She stopped, her heart thumping as madly as a runaway stallion’s hooves. The man staring back at her, an open book in his large hands, a golden brow raised, was decidedly as far as one could get from the petite, Virginia-born Miss Whitney.
“I daresay I’ve been called a great number of things in my life, but never yet a little minx,” drawled the Duke of Devonshire as he stood and bowed to her.
“I must apologize,” she hastened to say, embarrassment making her cheeks go hot. “I mistook you for someone else.”
A small smile curved his lips, drawing her attention to just how finely formed his mouth was. He had changed since she’d seen him last.
He’d grown a beard. She swallowed, her heart continuing its mad pace. The duke had always been a handsome man, possessed of a rare masculine beauty that almost made him seem too perfect to be real. But the neatly trimmed beard took the purity of his features and rendered them somehow sinful. Seductive. Her cheeks burned as she realized she was staring and, to her greatest dismay, he’d said something to her.
She had no earthly idea what.
Bother it all, what ailed her? She’d seen Devonshire scads of times before. The boring manner in which he conducted himself had long since rendered her immune to his undeniable good looks. He was quiet, uninteresting. For the most part, he didn’t move in the same circles as she. In private, she referred to him as the Duke of Dullness. Why, then, was she turning into a silly schoolroom miss in his presence? A beard? An intense stare?
Tia released her skirts, allowing them to fall back into place as it occurred to her that she’d likely been revealing far more of her limbs than she’d intended. That bright-blue gaze of his followed her movement, making her feel almost as if he’d caressed her.
“By any chance, were you searching for a lovely young American, Lady Stokey?” he asked, saving her from further embarrassment.
She didn’t know why, but she found it troublesome indeed that he thought Miss Whitney lovely. Tia shook the unworthy notion from her mind, reminded that she was charged with looking after the virtue and the conduct of a rather precocious young girl.
“I was, Your Grace,” she acknowledged, dipping into a slight curtsy as her wits returned to her. “Have you seen her?”
“About half an hour ago,” he confirmed, closing the distance between them. That smile still flirted with the corners of his mouth, almost as if he were enjoying a sally at her expense.
Rebel Love (Heart's Temptation Book 2) Page 28
