His Wicked Embrace

by Adrienne Basso

  “I love you, Isabella,” he whispered softly. “I love you beyond reason.”

  “Oh, Damien.” Her eyes welled with tears. “I love you too.”

  The euphoria building inside him grew to near bursting. He knew she cared for him, yet he dared not hope he would so readily achieve that which he most desired—Isabella’s love. He reveled in the certainty that they now belonged solely to each other. It brought his emotional and physical desire up to a level he had always believed existed only in the abstract. Romantic love, tender-hearted concern, deep and binding commitment—these phrases were no longer merely words for Damien, but truths.

  Tenderly he removed her clothing, pausing to kiss her each time he removed a garment. Soon she was naked, the sight of her passion-flushed skin incredibly erotic and alluring. Isabella’s eyes were shining with merriment and love, but he felt her hands tremble slightly when she reached up to unbutton the top of Damien’s shirt.

  “Nervous, my sweet?” he asked.

  “Impatient,” she replied.

  Damien smiled wickedly and ripped the remaining clothes from his body. He stretched out beside her and lowered his head to her breast. He pressed feather kisses along the generous curves, then slowly licked the rosy nipple to a taut peak.

  The tips of his fingers glided lightly up Isabella’s inner thigh. He smiled with satisfaction when she sighed with pleasure and parted her legs. She lifted her hips against his hand and whimpered quietly as he stroked her softness, quickly bringing forth her slick, feminine essence.

  The coiling tension inside Damien could wait no longer for release. He came down on top of her with the full force of his heated body, spread her legs wider with his knees, and thrust himself inside her softness.

  Isabella gave a loud cry of passion and clung to him. Damien felt her legs twine around his calves and pull him even deeper into her body. She moved beneath him in naturally perfect harmony.

  Damien’s hips pumped rhythmically, his passion incited by the love burning in his heart. He looked down into her eyes, wild and filled with passion, and he knew he would love her until he no longer walked this earth.

  Damien struggled to maintain his control, seeking to prolong this perfect moment. But Isabella peaked suddenly and her climax sparked his release. His hands came beneath her and he lifted her even closer, grinding himself against her softness as he spilled his seed deep within her.

  With a sigh of fulfillment, Damien collapsed on top of Isabella. After a few moments he slowly opened his eyes. The spicy scent of passion invaded his nostrils, and he grinned like an idiot. Isabella’s fingers were trailing soothingly across his shoulders, and her legs were still curled around his. He felt magnificent, totally sated in mind, body, and soul.

  Reluctantly, Damien carefully eased himself out of Isabella’s warm body. She protested at his leaving but appeared to lack the energy to do much about it. She garbled something, then turned to press the full length of her body against his. Her deep, even breaths told him she had fallen asleep.

  Damien grinned with masculine pride. He had exhausted her with his passion. It was a truly satisfactory notion, knowing he could so completely love her. He moved closer to Isabella and curved his arm protectively around her waist. He kicked the covers up with his foot and rearranged the blankets around Isabella’s shoulders. Then he turned his body until he could feel her cheek resting against his chest and fell asleep in the circle of peace and joy they had created.

  Isabella awoke with a start, momentarily disoriented. She gazed with slight confusion at the sunbeams that streamed through the window and onto the unfamiliar bed. Her confusion turned to a smile of contentment when her memory also awoke.

  Damien loved her. They were going to be married. A surge of elation swept through Isabella. She could not believe her good fortune.

  Her eyes traveled the length of the bed and filled with admiration as she beheld Damien’s uncovered, naked form. Indelicate thoughts of a decidedly carnal nature invaded her mind, but they fled the instant she heard footsteps outside her door.

  Isabella clutched the blanket to her naked breast, poised to shake Damien awake the moment she heard someone fumbling at the locked door. The sound never came. Instead Isabella saw the gleam of white paper as a thick letter was passed under the door and into the chamber.

  Isabella left the bed, but feeling uncomfortable in her nudity, she searched among the clothes scattered on the floor for her chemise. Pulling the garment over her head, she padded barefoot to the door to retrieve the letter. It was addressed to her.

  “What is that?”

  Damien sat up in bed and sprawled nonchalantly against the headboard. The sight of his muscular, naked chest made Isabella’s blood sing. She cleared her throat and answered the earl’s question. “It appears to be a letter for me.”

  There was a short silence as Isabella broke the seal.

  She shuffled through the many pages to read the signature even though she was fairly certain who had sent the missive. “It is from Lord Poole.”

  “What does he write?” Damien inquired.

  “He apologizes for any hurt he may have caused me and humbly begs my forgiveness. Thomas left the inn at daybreak this morning and plans to sail for the Americas by the end of the month. He has enclosed the mortgage vouchers to Whatley Grange.”

  Isabella gave Damien an anxious look, but his expression remained stoic.

  “Oh, goodness—Thomas has signed the mortgage vouchers over to Ian, not you, Damien.” Isabella scanned the rest of the letter quickly. “Is that legal?”

  Damien shook his head. “How like Poole to be so difficult. I suppose he just couldn’t bear handing them directly over to me. As Ian’s father, I have control of his fortune until he reaches his maturity. And yes, in answer to your question, sweetheart, it is perfectly legal.”

  “You are not angry?”

  “No.” Damien stretched his arm above his head. “I didn’t expect Poole to capitulate with so little resistance. I confess, Isabella, I feel he has escaped his reprehensible behavior with small punishment.”

  “I disagree, Damien.” She crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed. Her brows came together in a serious line across her forehead. “Thomas has suffered greatly by Emmeline’s death, and in time I believe he will feel guilty for the part he played in it. He will now be separated completely from the life he has known and enjoyed. It will not be easy for him to start fresh, in a strange country.”

  Damien quirked a brow. “That hardly seems fitting revenge.”

  “You and I will be married soon, won’t we, Damien?” Just speaking the words aloud gave Isabella a deep, warm feeling.

  “I plan on obtaining a special license today, sweetheart. We shall marry tomorrow.”

  “And we will have a long, happy life together, won’t we, Damien?”

  “God willing.” Damien’s hands closed around Isabella’s waist. He lifted her up and settled her in his lap, then kissed the sensitive place behind her ear. “We shall be joyously happy, my love.”

  “Then the best revenge is to be happy, dearest,” Isabella said, smiling at Damien. “And we are!”

  Epilogue

  “I have been reading Lady Anne’s diary again, Mama.”

  Isabella glanced up from her embroidery, slightly startled at hearing herself called Mama. Although Ian had been addressing her by that name for nearly a year, Catherine had only recently begun using it. Isabella was touched and honored to have finally earned such an important place in Catherine’s life. It made her feel even more joy at the coming birth of her own child, knowing this newborn babe would be a welcome addition to an already loving family.

  “Have you made a new discovery while reading the diary, Catherine? I hope you will share your latest theory about the treasure with me.”

  Catherine sat up tall in her chair, the pink ribbons on her new gown shaking with enthusiasm. She had changed in the two years since Isabella and Damien’s marriage. She was no long
er an intensely self-contained child existing in a narrow world. There were visits to neighboring estates and interaction with other children. Catherine had formed a special friendship with Lord Simmons’s daughter, Elizabeth, and the two girls spent a great deal of time in each other’s company.

  Isabella was delighted that Catherine had become more frivolous and inclined toward mischief, although the family’s governess, Miss Ballinger, found Catherine’s high spirits trying at times.

  “After much thought, I agree with Father’s theory that the poem, which is the final journal entry, contains the secret of the treasure,” Catherine informed Isabella. “Oh Gloriana of titan hair, thy savior I shall be; for through the rose of the noon day sun, thy enemies shall flee. The poem tells us we must search for the treasure at noon. But I believe the time of year we search is also important. Miss Ballinger has recently taught us about the sun, and she says it is higher or lower in the sky according to the season of the year.”

  “That is correct.” Isabella pursed her lips and considered Catherine’s theory. The treasure story had once again become a focal point of interest for the children, and both Damien and Isabella agreed it was a harmless diversion. “The time of year could be the essential factor that has been missing in prior searches. Have you figured out what time of year we need to search?”

  “Oh, yes.” Catherine jumped up from her chair with girlish enthusiasm. “According to the journal, Lady Anne fell ill on the second of July and the family bible says she died on July fifteenth. She must have hidden the treasure soon after she became ill.”

  “That is very sound reasoning,” Isabella said, impressed with Catherine’s logic.

  “I found another passage in the journal where Lady Anne writes that her favorite room in the house ’glowed with rosy warmth.’ Elizabeth and I have talked about this, and we agreed that if we were going to hide something very important, we would put it in our favorite room. I think that is what Lady Anne did.”

  Isabella experienced a moment of concern. The room Catherine was referring to was well known, for in that very chamber they had become trapped inside the hidden passageway. And later discovered Emmeline’s remains.

  “It has been a long time since we entered the bedchamber with the ’rosy glow,’ ” Isabella said gently. “Would it not trouble you to explore it again?”

  “No. I will not feel troubled. I want very much to find the treasure,” Catherine insisted.

  “Then we shall search for it.” Isabella stood up and placed her sewing on the chair. “Today is the sixth of July. That falls within the appropriate week. What time is it?”

  “Half past eleven,” Catherine whispered, her eyes round with excitement.

  “Come along, Lady Catherine, we have some treasure hunting to do.” Isabella held out her hand, and Catherine took it eagerly.

  The renovation of the east wing had begun in early spring, and the workers had achieved marvelous results in a short span of time. All the rooms had been thoroughly cleaned, broken panes of glass repaired, chimneys swept, and fireplaces re-stoned.

  As Isabella walked the hallway with Catherine by her side, none of the memories of her previous trips to this part of the castle gripped her thoughts. It was as though she had never walked these floors, so complete were the changes and improvements.

  There were other happy changes at The Grange, too. Maggie was expecting her second child soon, and the three other maids had successfully given birth, Fran to a boy and Penny and Molly each to a daughter. Mrs. Amberly had retired to a cozy cottage on the estate, and Catherine and Ian visited her faithfully every week.

  Damien had mentioned to Isabella only last week that Mrs. Amberly had been hinting rather broadly about returning temporarily to The Grange when their child was born. Isabella amazed herself by seriously considering the idea, for despite her past rocky relationship with Mrs. Amberly, she knew in her heart that she would never find a more loyal, devoted nursemaid for her baby.

  Isabella and Catherine entered the rose room just as the clock in the great hall struck noon. The bedchamber was bathed in a rosy glow, but when the final gong struck, the glow faded, and a single shaft of rose sunlight fell across the floor.

  “Mama, look!” Catherine shouted in awe.

  “It’s amazing,” Isabella agreed. The tip of the sunbeam fell nearly in the center of the empty room, directly on a square of parquet flooring. It looked like a giant, rose-colored arrow.

  “Through the rose of the noon day sun,” Isabella whispered.

  “ ’Tis just as Lady Anne’s poem says, Catherine.”

  The little girl clapped her hands together with delight. “The treasure must be hidden under the floor.”

  Shaking her head in agreement, Isabella knelt down to examine the floor. The inlaid wood was in good condition and had not been replaced during the renovation, but it had been cleaned, scraped, waxed, and buffed to a high shine.

  Isabella ran her hand cautiously over the smooth, polished surface and through the sunbeam. The section of wood was flush to the floor, no different from any other panel.

  Balling her hand into a fist, Isabella rapped her knuckles sharply on the floor. A deep, solid sound echoed through the room.

  Catherine sat beside Isabella. Imitating Isabella’s actions Catherine tapped the surrounding floorboards, then hit the floor again directly in the beam of light. There was a hollow, thumping noise, distinctly different from the others.

  Catherine’s head shot up in triumph. “We found it!”

  “We have found something,” Isabella corrected, trying to keep the excitement from her voice. “If we lift the flooring, we might find only an empty space.”

  “But we must look,” Catherine insisted.

  “Of course we shall look,” Isabella agreed with a grin. “If we do not pry this floor open, we will never be able to sleep tonight. Quick, run and find your father and Ian. They should be out in the stables. The new horses from Tattersall’s were expected this morning.”

  Catherine left with an undignified flurry of skirts. Isabella sat back on her heels and glanced about the room. The sun had shifted again as the minutes passed. The rosy glow created by the many panes of colored glass set in the windows now replaced the solitary beam.

  In the space of a few short minutes, the single shaft of light was no longer pointing the way. Isabella sat directly in front of the floor panel, vowing not to move an inch lest she forget which panel the sunbeam had marked.

  As she waited, Isabella’s eyes wandered involuntarily to the wall on the far side of the room that once hid the secret passageway. It no longer existed. Damien had ordered the entrance bricked closed and the latch removed from the wall.

  The children had asked questions about their mother’s death and were told she had died accidentally, as was the truth. By coming here today, Catherine had amply demonstrated that she suffered no lingering effects from her previous ordeal of being trapped inside the cold, dark passageway.

  Isabella had received a brief letter from Thomas, who had resigned himself to a quiet life in America. She thought occasionally of her half sister and half brother, but did not dwell on the past. There were too many important things happening in the future. Isabella’s hand rested comfortably on the slight swell of her stomach. If all went well, there would be a new baby to love by Christmas.

  “What have my two favorite girls discovered?” Damien asked a few minutes later as he breezed into the room with Catherine and Ian hard on his heels.

  “It is the most miraculous thing, Father,” Catherine said enthusiastically. “There is a beam of light that points to the floor. That is where Lady Anne hid the treasure!”

  Isabella saw the confusion and disappointment mar Catherine’s face. “What happened to the beam, Mama? It has disap-peared!”

  “It is past noon, Catherine,” Isabella said. “The beam only appeared briefly, but I have sat directly on the spot so we would know where it was.”

  “How clever,” Catherine
said with approval. “Hurry, Father. We must break through the floor.”

  Isabella noticed that Damien carried an ax, hammer, and chisel in his hands. His gray eyes sparkled with good humor. He was dressed in the comfortable attire of a country gentleman in buff breeches, a rust riding coat, and a white cravat neatly yet unostentatiously arranged.

  He was still the most tantalizingly attractive man Isabella had ever known. Her heart skipped a beat when he cast her a loving gaze that sent a riot of warm feeling coursing through her veins.

  “Are you sure about this, Catherine?” Damien asked. “I should hate to ruin this beautiful floor for no good reason.”

  “Father!” Catherine screeched. “You must break the floor to find the treasure!”

  “Stop teasing her, Damien,” Isabella said. She shifted her position and pointed to the wooden floor. “Start here.”

  “Stand back, all of you,” Damien commanded, helping Isabella rise to her feet. They all obligingly stepped away. The earl took careful aim and swung the ax in a high arc over his head. It hit the panel dead center. The wood split and cracked.

  “It’s hollow underneath,” Damien said with some surprise. He knelt on the floor. Using the hammer and chisel, he removed the square completely.

  Everyone crowded around the small opening and peered inside.

  “I don’t see anything,” Ian said.

  “Neither do I,” Isabella chimed in. “Put your hand inside and feel around, Damien.”

  The earl grimaced at his wife, but did as she requested.

  “Can you feel the treasure, Father?” Catherine hopped from one foot to the other, looking as if she would burst from the suspense.

  “I can feel lots of dust and spider webs on my hands,” Damien reported.

  “Spider webs! May I try?” Ian asked, inching closer to the earl hopefully.

  “Your arms aren’t long enough, son,” Damien replied. He spread himself flat against the floor and stretched his arm inside the hole.