A Scandalous Vow (Scandalous Series Book 7)

by Ava Stone

At her slight intake of air, Marc released his hold on Caroline and turned away from her. Damn it all, he could still remember the anguished cry that had escaped his aunt when she found out upon his return to England.

  “When was this?” Caroline asked from behind him.

  “Almost a dozen years ago.”

  “We were in the middle of the war,” she said softly.

  Yes, but not all wars were fought on battlefields. He didn’t say that out loud, however, as it would make it sound like what he’d done was heroic in some way. And looking back on all of it, it was far from that.

  “You were in France during the war?”

  “Part of it.”

  “Marc.” Her hand landed on his back and with it brought the tiniest bit of peace flowing through him. “Tell me what happened. Why were you in France?”

  “Because I was a damned idiot.” In much the same way Kelling and Winslett were idiots now. He’d been so idealistic, wanting to better the world; but the world was exactly as it was, and nothing was going to change it one way or the other, not really.

  “I don’t believe that at all.”

  Marc scoffed slightly. “Well, perhaps your faith in me is misplaced, Caroline.”

  “I don’t believe that either. Why were you in France?” she asked again.

  He shook his head and told her the truth. “At the time, there were fears of a possible invasion from France into Ireland.” He breathed out a breath. “I was sent there to gather information and to stop such a thing from happening if I had the chance.”

  Chapter 19

  Caroline could hardly believe her ears. She had always thought of Marc as one of the most capable men of her acquaintance. But surely he wasn’t capable of preventing an invasion all by himself. “Who sent you for that purpose?”

  “The Home Office,” he said without a moment’s hesitation.

  Heavens! Was he saying…was he really saying he was a spy? Did that explain his scars and general evasiveness? “You work for the Home Office?”

  “Worked. Past tense,” he said sounding rather dejected.

  Goodness! That was the last thing in the world she expected him to say tonight. “Does my brother know this? Or Alex? Or—”

  “For God’s sake, no,” he said, turning back around to face her. “When you work for the Home Office, you don’t go around telling people, Caroline, and you don’t tell them after the fact either.”

  “I won’t tell anyone,” she vowed. “I swear it.”

  “I don’t mean to sound gruff.” His expression softened, and he leaned forward to press a kiss to her brow. “It’s just…well, I have enemies out there. Dangerous ones. Even this many years later, and if anyone tried to hurt me through you...”

  “The man at Vauxhall?”

  Marc nodded.

  “He killed your cousin?”

  He nodded again.

  “Was that to get to you?”

  Marc swallowed. “He thought Max was an English operative.” He shook his head. “But he was just a sweet boy who got mixed up in something without even knowing he was involved in it.” Marc closed his eyes as the memory seemed painful. “St. George thought Max was using his connection to me to send word of our plans to England, but it was me using my connection to Max as a cover.”

  Heavens, that made no sense at all. “What do you mean by that?”

  His light blue eyes opened once more, pinning her to her spot. “His mother, my aunt, is from Grasse.”

  “In the south of France?” It was somewhere near Cannes, if she remembered correctly.

  Marc nodded. “Her family was close with Jean-Honoré Fragonard who was also from the area.”

  “The painting master?” Caroline asked.

  He nodded once more. “Max was a budding artist, though honestly not very good. And I suggested that he contact Fragonard, who was in Paris at the time, working with Napoleon’s government in administrating a museum in the Louvre. He was old, but well connected. So I told Max I’d brave the journey and sneak into France with him if he was of a mind to go, and…”

  “And?” Caroline prodded.

  “Well, I can be very convincing.” He shrugged. “And once there, Fragonard’s political connections led to others, and by the end of it, I had done a very nice job of infiltrating a group of English revolutionaries on the outskirts of Paris.”

  Never in Caroline’s wildest imaginations would she have ever thought Marc capable of being an operative for the Home Office. He always seemed like he didn’t care about anyone or anything else in the world, honestly. He hardly seemed the patriotic sort.

  “I was sending back reports, and all was going well until someone here switched allegiances and informed the leader of that particular group that a mole was in their midst.” He snorted. “St. George had never trusted Max and felt certain he was the informant. So he stabbed him right in the back in the alley outside our lodgings.” Marc’s voice shook slightly, and Caroline placed her hand over his heart, wishing she could lessen his pain even just a bit.

  “I’m so sorry,” she breathed out.

  “I found him like that the next morning. I figured my cover had been blown, so I escaped France.” He cringed. “One of the hardest things I’ve ever done was leaving his body behind, but there was nothing else I could do.”

  Oh, her heart ached for him. That was so awful. Still… “It wasn’t your fault, Marc.”

  He smiled down at her and cupped her face with his hands. “You can’t alleviate my guilt, love.” Marc sighed. “Max would have never been in France if not for me. His path would have never crossed St. George’s and—”

  “It’s not your fault,” she said again. Because it wasn’t. “You didn’t plunge the knife into him. You’re not responsible for St. George’s actions.” Any more than Felicity or Marc were responsible for David’s death. Captain Pierce had taken David’s life, and St. George had taken Max’s.

  “My actions put him in harm’s way,” Marc said. “I was so certain I was doing the right thing, I didn’t even give him the choice to be involved or not. I made that decision for him. And that decision cost my cousin his life.” His light eyes held her gaze, but there was something behind them Caroline couldn’t read, as though he was contemplating some momentous decision. And then he leaned forward and kissed her brow once more. “And I can’t let my past put you in danger now, Caroline.”

  There was a finality to his tone, which Caroline didn’t like at all. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  He shook his head as his hands dropped from her face and drifted to her shoulders as though he might, very easily, put her away from him. “Initially, I thought if you and I had a very public disagreement that it might put some distance between us, make him think you weren’t important to me. But—” he sighed “—I think, with him, it might have the opposite effect. So perhaps if I begin some scandalous, very public union with, I don’t know, I have an actress in mind, one who owes me a favor. Perhaps—”

  “Not on your life.” Caroline frowned up at him. Honestly, was he serious? “Just this evening, you swore that you loved me and now—”

  “And I do,” he stressed. “But that was before St. George, before you could be in danger. If something ever happened to you…”

  “Then don’t let it,” she cut him off.

  “I couldn’t protect Max,” he said, and the sound seemed wrenched from his soul. “What if I can’t protect you?”

  “You didn’t know he was in danger,” she said evenly. But they did know what they were up against now, or at least they had some idea. So, they’d be prepared and make a plan for dealing with St. George. She frowned slightly at the thought. “Why is this…St. George, why is he even here?”

  Marc sagged a bit and she had a feeling there was more that he hadn’t told her. “Apparently, he’s part of a group of conspirators in Town, but—”

  “How do you know that?”

  A soft snort escaped him. “The Home Office wanted me to look into th
em. They said St. George was amongst their numbers.”

  “So, you’ll help them,” Caroline said practically. “If you could take down a group of conspirators, capture St. George in the meantime—”

  “No,” he said without giving even a moment’s thought to her proposal, which was more than frustrating. She was at least trying to find a way out of this.

  “Marc—”

  “They’re not any more trustworthy than he is, Caroline.”

  “But they’re the Home Office.”

  “Which means absolutely nothing. Different side of the same coin.”

  He knew more about the situation than Caroline did, but that didn’t sound right to her, and she frowned in response.

  “Someone in the Home Office sent word about my operation to Paris, love. They’re not trustworthy, and I won’t put my trust in them, not when your safety, not when Emma’s and Rachel’s safety hangs in the balance.”

  A staggered breath escaped Caroline at the thought of her daughters being in danger. “So what do we do?”

  “I don’t know.” He slid his arms around Caroline and held her against him.

  And the last thing in the world she ever wanted was for him to let her go. “I don’t want to lose you, Marc.”

  Marc tightened his hold on her and breathed in her lilac scent. “I don’t want to lose you either.” He wouldn’t survive it if he did.

  Caroline tipped her head back to see him, and she truly was the loveliest woman in all the world. How could he ever resist her? How could he have ever helped falling so desperately in love with her? Marc dipped his head down and kissed her very gently, wanting to commit to memory, wanting to savor every moment of her in his arms. It could, after all, be the last time she was there. The morning would probably bring with it some awful choice he would have to make, but he didn’t want to think about that now, not with her so willingly in his arms and kissing him back.

  Caroline sighed against his lips, which heated his blood and stirred his cock to life. Dear God, he had wanted her for so long.

  Marc slid the buttons of his jacket through their holes without breaking their kiss, and he let the thing fall to the floor. Caroline tugged at his cravat until it fell away from his neck, then her delicate fingers nearly burned a hole through the linen of his shirt.

  Marc tightened his hold on her and deepened their kiss, tangling his tongue with hers until the little moans that escaped her were on the verge of driving him wild. He slowly lifted his head and gazed down at her. If only this moment could last forever.

  He smiled as he unbuttoned his waistcoat. Damn it all, she was every dream he’d ever had, all rolled up in the prettiest package imaginable.

  Caroline dropped onto the edge of her four-poster, her hazel gaze heating everywhere it touched him. But that was hardly fair.

  Marc lifted one brow and said, “I thought it was my turn to see you without a stitch, love.” He bit back a smile as he added, “In the interest of our friendship, of course.”

  “Oh, of course.” She slid to the middle of the bed and rose up on her knees before lifting her nightrail over her head, leaving her completely bare for his eyes to feast upon.

  And then Marc’s mouth really did go dry. She had the most perfect breasts, just the right size for his hands to cup, with dusty pink nipples that peaked under his gaze, a slender waist that he wanted to reach out and draw to him, and light curls at the apex of her thighs.

  “Amazing.” He blew out a breath of appreciation.

  The faintest blush stained her cheeks as she bit her bottom lip. “Now, I didn’t look at you this long.”

  “I’m not as magnificent as you are,” he said, though he did drop his waistcoat to the floor. And then he tugged his shirt over his head.

  “I’d hardly say that,” she replied softly, which only made his cock harder.

  Marc sat on the very edge of her bed and tugged first one boot and then the second from his feet before turning his attention to the buttons of his trousers. And a moment later, he stood up, and his trousers dropped to the rug at his feet. Marc stepped from his clothes and turned around to find her waiting for him under the counterpane.

  “No, no, no.” He shook his head. “’Tis a travesty to cover up something so beautiful.”

  He drew the counterpane away from her and climbed onto the bed beside her. Marc drew her against him and let his lips linger on her neck as he slowly kissed her. His fingertips brushed across her hip, the softness of her skin making him groan.

  When she sighed from his ministrations, he slid his hand from her hip over to her breast and squeezed her gently. God, she felt so perfect, pressed against him, and he squeezed her breast again.

  “Marc.” His name came out in a little puff of air.

  “Ah, my love,” he answered before kissing her neck once again.

  Then he pushed up to his knees and hovered over her briefly before leaning forward and capturing her lips with his. She tasted like tea sweetened with honey and the purest heaven he’d ever experienced.

  He trailed his lips to her jaw, down her neck, kissing every inch of her soft skin along the way, urged on by the breathy little moans that escaped her. Marc lifted his head, locking his gaze with hers as he sucked one nipple into his mouth.

  Caroline’s mouth fell open and she moved beneath him, a silent invitation for him to take more, to take all of her.

  He licked across her nipple as his hand trailed downward, through her springy curls, and his fingertip brushed against her sensitive nub.

  She sucked in a breath and Marc pressed two fingers inside her welcoming heat. Dear God she was so wet, and his cock ached to be there.

  He groaned against her nipple and pushed his fingers deeper inside her, in and out, in and out, until Caroline bucked beneath him.

  Marc flicked his tongue over Caroline’s nipple one last time before raising back to his knees and gazing down at her.

  Need coursed through her, need for more, need for him, need for—

  Marc spread her legs apart with his hands, and Caroline swallowed a bit anxiously in anticipation. Heavens, his remarkableness was straining toward her, and she swallowed again. Oh, she wanted him so desperately. She wanted him inside her, she wanted him around her, holding her tight, she wanted every part of him touching every part of her.

  And then he pressed the tip of himself against her opening, his light gaze holding hers captive.

  Caroline sucked in a breath.

  Heavens! That was…well, remarkable.

  He stretched her wider as he pushed further into her and then further until he’d filled her completely. And then he leaned forward until his chest brushed against her breasts, and he kissed her so gently, so lovingly, she almost cried.

  Oh, dear God, she loved him. She loved everything about this man. She loved the way he looked at her, the way he made her feel, the way he was completely different with her than he was with everyone else in the world.

  “Yes,” he whispered near her ear as he moved inside her. “Just like that, love. Hold me just like that.” And he kissed the side of her cheek as he thrust a bit deeper.

  “Oh, Marc,” she breathed out, not even recognizing the sound of her own voice.

  He thrust inside her again and then again. Each stroke was so slow, so deliberate, so lovingly performed, Caroline could only stare at him in awe. And stamina. She had no idea how long he’d made love to her, only that it felt like forever, and she never wanted it to end.

  But then something inside began to build, and that pressure intensified with each stroke within her, and then she burst.

  Caroline clutched Marc to her, pulling him deeper within her and then he found his own release as a groan seemed wrenched from his soul.

  Chapter 20

  Marc collapsed beside Caroline and pulled her against him, her back to his front. Damn it all, he was always so careful during sex…well, at the end of any sexual encounter, anyway. He’d made a point of never spilling his seed inside
any woman, as he didn’t need that sort of entanglement. But Caroline wasn’t just any woman, she was the only one whom he’d ever loved with his whole heart and soul.

  Even still, he felt a little vulnerable at that moment. What had he been thinking? Well, he hadn’t been thinking, that was clear enough. Of course, it was difficult to think clearly around Caroline on any given day, but while making love to her…He was lucky he even knew his name.

  She traced circles on his forearm with her finger and the contentment of that was such a rarity, Marc smiled against her hair.

  “I know I haven’t said it,” she said softly. “But I’ve been thinking it just the same.”

  “What’s that?”

  “That I love you, Marc. I do. I do love you.”

  Those words swirled around his heart and Marc squeezed her tighter. “I love you too.”

  “And I meant what I said earlier,” she continued. “I don’t want to lose you. I can’t lose you. So whatever we have to do, we’ll do it together, all right?”

  Except that might not be possible. Marc loved her too much to put her in harm’s way. But he didn’t want to say that. He didn’t even want to think about what tomorrow would bring. So he pressed his lips to the side of Caroline’s neck and said, “And I meant what I said earlier.” He splayed his hand possessively across her belly. “You should only wear nightrails from now on.” He kissed her again. “That is, if you have to wear anything at all.”

  “And what about you?” He felt her laugh in his arms and he couldn’t help but smile. “Such a shame to hide your remarkable form beneath jackets and waistcoats and trousers.”

  “Remarkable?” he drawled. “I do like the sound of that, love.”

  She spun in his arms until her breasts were pressed against his chest and her dark blonde curls danced across his skin. “I have always thought you quite remarkable.” Then she kissed the side of his jaw.

  Marc squeezed her to him and brushed his hand over the swell of her bottom. How he wished it could be like this always. If only there was—