by Sylvia Day
“My time with you meant a great deal to me, John. Despite the horridly abrupt way our liaison ended, you do know that, don’t you?”
Leaning into the backrest, he held her earnest gaze and said, “I do know that, Isabel, and your feelings for me made it much easier to see the purpose of our liaison and give it the closure it deserves. You and I came together for solace, the both of us wounded by our marriages—me, by the death of my beloved wife, and you, by the death of your not-so-loved husband. No strings, no demands, no goals…just companionship. How could I ever resent you for moving forward when something deeper came into your life?”
“Thank you,” she said fervently, taking in every aspect of his handsome features with renewed affection. “For everything.”
“In truth, I envy you. When Grayson came to me, I—”
“What?” She blinked in surprise. “What do you mean ‘he came’ to you?”
John laughed. “So, he didn’t tell you. My respect for him has increased two-fold.”
“What did he say?” she asked, nearly overrun with curiosity.
“What he said is not important. It is the passion with which he said it that I envied. I want that, too, and I think I am finally ready for it, thanks in no small part to you.”
She wished she could reach out and squeeze his hand, which rested casually on the table, but she could not. Instead, she urged, “Promise me that we shall always be friends.”
“Isabel.” His voice held a smile. And a thread of steel. “Nothing on this earth could prevent me from being your friend.”
“Truly?” She arched a brow. “What if I play matchmaker? I have a friend…”
John gave a mock shudder. “Now, that might do it.”
As soon as Gerard and Spencer returned to the Hammond manse, they went straight to their rooms to bathe away the odors, sweat, and grime of the day.
Gerard longed to go to Isabel and had to fight the powerful urge to do so. He needed to talk with her, and share his discovery. He wanted to find comfort in her and soothe her fears with the knowledge that she was above all women to him. Most of all, he suspected she always would be and he wanted her to know that.
But then he wished to hold her, too, and he needed to be clean to do that.
So he sank into a hot bath, rested his head against the lip, and dismissed Edward.
When the door opened long moments later, he smiled, but kept his eyes closed. “Good evening, vixen. Did you miss me?”
A throaty murmur of assent made his smile broaden.
Isabel drew closer and his blood quickened with anticipation. Languid from exhaustion and the warmth of the bath, it took him precious moments to register the scent of a foreign perfume as she bent over him, then the re-opening of the door…
What in—
…just before an equally foreign hand thrust into the water and wrapped around his cock.
He jerked in surprise, sloshing water over the rim of the tub as he opened his eyes and met Barbara’s startled gaze. He’d noted the inviting glances she sent his way, but he had thought her wise enough to heed his returning scowl and warning at the Hammond’s ball in town. Apparently not.
He caught her wrist just as her gaze lifted and then filled with abject horror.
“If you wish to keep that hand,” came Pel’s voice from the adjoining doorway. “I strongly suggest you remove it from my husband’s bath.”
Dripping with ice, the words chilled him despite the warmth of the water he sat in.
Bloody everlasting hell!
Chapter 15
Why does my wife have such an unfortunate way of finding me in the most compromising positions?
Baring his teeth, Gerard growled at his intruder, who stumbled back in fright. Rising from the water, he caught up the towel that had been draped over a chair by his valet and watched Pel stalk Barbara out of the room.
Isabel shouted down the hallway after Barbara’s retreating figure. “I am not done with you, madam!”
Squaring his shoulders, Gerard waited for his lioness to turn and face him. When she did, he flinched at her thundercloud expression. She stared at him a moment with unreadable amber eyes, her hair loose and flowing about her torso, her lush body covered in a dressing gown. Then she turned away, moving quickly to her room.
“Isabel.”
He fumbled for his robe and followed her, holding his hand out to prevent the rapidly closing door from smacking him in the face. Once inside, he studied her warily as he dressed, watched her pacing, wondered how to begin the conversation. Finally, he said, “I did not instigate nor participate in that advance.”
She shot a sidelong glance at him, but did not still her pacing.
“I think you want to believe me,” he murmured. She was not hurling invectives at him, or objects for that matter.
“It is not that simple.”
Walking toward her, he caught her shoulders, forcing her to still. It was then he felt her labored breathing, which caused his heart to race desperately. “It is that simple.” He shook her slightly. “Look at me. See me!”
Isabel’s gaze lifted and bore that same dazed, unfocused film he had seen at the Hammond’s ball.
Cupping her cheeks with his hands, he tilted her face up. “Isabel, my love.” He pressed his cheek to hers and breathed deeply, inhaling her scent. “I am not Pelham. Perhaps, before…when I was younger…”
She clutched his robe in clenched fists.
He sighed. “I am no longer that man, and I have never been Pelham. I have never lied to you, never hidden anything from you. From the moment we met, I have opened myself to you like I have with no other. You have seen me at my worst.” Turning his head, he kissed her cold lips, licking the seam, coaxing them softly to open. “Can you not find it in your heart to see me at my best?”
“Gerard…” she breathed, her tongue brushing tentatively along his, making him groan.
“Yes.” He pulled her closer, taking ruthless advantage of that tiny show of weakness. “Trust me, Pel. I have so much I wish to entrust in you. So much to share. Please, give me—give us—that chance.”
“I am afraid,” she admitted, baring what he had known, but was waiting for her to say.
“How strong you are to reveal that,” he praised, “and how lucky I am to be the man you share your fears with.”
She tugged at the loose belt of his robe, undid her own, and pressed her bare skin to his. No barriers between them. Her cheek to his chest, he knew she listened to his heart, heard its steady beat. He reached beneath her dressing gown and stroked the length of her spine.
“I don’t know how to do this, Gray.”
“Neither do I. But surely, using our combined experience with the opposite gender, we can manage. I was always able to tell when a paramour was tiring of me. Surely—”
“You lie. No woman has ever lost interest in you.”
“No sane woman,” he corrected. “Did you see no warning signs with Pelham? Or did he just wake up one morning without his brain?”
Isabel rubbed her face in his chest and laughed. It was a shaky sound, but true mirth, nevertheless. “There were signs, yes.”
“So we shall make another bargain, you and I. You tell me the moment you see what appears to be a sign, and I promise to reassure you in a way that leaves no doubt.”
She pulled back and looked up him, her mouth lush and wide, her eyes fringed with chocolate-colored lashes. He stared, enraptured by her features, which were nowhere near refined or delicate. Isabel was a raving, brazen beauty.
“God, you are so lovely,” he murmured. “It hurts sometimes to look at you.”
Her creamy skin flushed, that telltale touch of color speaking volumes. Pel was a woman of the world if ever there was one, but he could make her blush like a schoolgirl.
“Do you think your plan will work?” she asked.
“What? Talking to each other? Never allowing doubts to fester?” He sighed dramatically. “Too much work perhaps? I guess we wi
ll simply have to stay abed and fuck like rabbits.”
“Gerard!”
“Oh, Pel.” Lifting her, Gerard spun in a circle. “I am mad for you. Can you not see that? As much as you worry about holding my interest, I worry about holding yours.”
Isabel wrapped her slender arms around his neck and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I am mad for you, as well.”
“Yes,” he said, laughing. “I know.”
“Conceited rake.”
“Ah, but I am your conceited rake, which is just how you want me. No, don’t pull away. Let’s make love, and then talk.”
She shook her head. “We cannot skip dinner again.”
“You dressed to seduce me, and now that your curves are pressed to my skin, you withdraw? What torture is this?”
“Considering how no provocation is required to lure you to sex, that was not my intent. I am undressed in this fashion because I napped.” Her mouth curved in that wicked smile he adored. “And dreamt of you.”
“Well, now I am here. Use me as you wish. I beg of you.”
“As if you are deprived.” She stepped back, and he made a great show of struggling to release her.
Growling, he muttered, “I wish I could say coming here was an error, but I think not.”
“I think not either.” She shot him a seductive glance over her shoulder. “And…good things come to those who wait.”
“Do tell me more,” he purred, following her.
“I shall tell you while you help me dress. But first things first, you keep that woman away from you, Grayson. If I find you with her again, I will definitely take that as a sign.”
“Never fear, vixen,” he murmured, wrapping his arms about her waist as she paused in front of the armoire. “I believe your point was well and truly made.”
She laced her fingers with his at her abdomen. “Hmmmph. We shall see about that.”
“I thought she intended to scratch my eyes out!”
Spencer shook his head and looked across the Hammond lower parlor to where Isabel stood off to the side, speaking with Lady Ansell. “What the devil were you thinking?”
Barbara wrinkled her nose. “When I exited my rooms and saw Grayson entering his, I assumed Pel was still below with the other guests.”
“It was daft of you, however you look at it.” He caught the eye of his brother, whose glowering look spoke volumes. Rein her in, it said.
“I know,” she said morosely.
“And really, you know, I’ve tried to tell you—one Faulkner cock is as good as another.”
“Yes, I suppose that’s true.”
“Have you learned your lesson? Stay away from Grayson.”
“Yes. Yes. Will you promise to save me from her wrath?”
“Perhaps…”
She understood. “I will make my excuses in a moment.” Barbara moved away.
Anticipating a night of carnal gratification, Spencer watched her sashay away with a smile.
“Did I hear Lady Stanhope correctly?” bit out a voice from behind him.
“Mother.” He rolled his eyes. “You really must stop eavesdropping.”
“Why did you warn her away from Grayson? Let her have him.”
“Apparently, Lady Grayson took exception to that idea, to the point where Lady Stanhope fears for her person.”
“What?”
“And Lord Hargreaves has gracefully withdrawn from the field. The newly reunited Graysons no longer have any impediments to marital bliss.”
Glaring across the room, she muttered, “That woman agreed to cast him aside. I should have known she was lying.”
“Even if she had not been, Gray is so taken with her, I doubt anything would keep him away. Look how he devours her with his gaze. And truth be told, I spoke with him a great deal today and she makes him happy. Perhaps you should concede this particular battle.”
“I will not!” she retorted brusquely, brushing her dark gray skirts with gloved hands. “I will not live forever and before I take my dying breath I wish to see Grayson with a suitable heir.”
“Ah…” He shrugged. “Well, perhaps it will be that which decides events in your favor. Pel has never struck me, or anyone else for that matter, as the maternal type. Had she longed for children, she would have increased long ago. Now her age is advanced and likely prohibitive to conception.”
“Spencer!” His mother caught his arm and turned bright eyes to meet his. “You are a genius! That is exactly it.”
“What? Which part?”
But his mother had already moved away, her slight shoulders straightened with a determination that made him glad to be exempt from its direction. He did, however, feel bad for his brother and so he moved to Gray’s side as Lord Ansell left it.
“Sorry,” Spencer murmured.
“Why did you bring her with you?” Gray asked, misunderstanding the apology.
“I told you. I was certain this trip would be a bore of heinous proportions. You cannot expect that I would be celibate in addition to that. I would offer to exhaust her from her meddling, but I ache all over, damn it. My arse, legs, arms. Some good I shall be to her, though I am determined to make my best effort.”
Laughing, his brother clapped him on the back and said, “Well, her ‘meddling’ may have been fortuitous.”
“Now I am certain you want a trip to Bedlam. No man possessed of all his mental faculties would say that being caught by his wife with his cock in another woman’s hands was fortuitous.”
Grayson smiled, and Spencer grumbled, “Well, out with it, man. You must explain, so that I may use a like circumstance to my advantage.”
“I would not recommend a like circumstance to anyone. However, in this particular case it allowed me the opportunity to set my wife’s greatest fear at ease.”
“And that is?”
“For only I to know, brother,” Gray said cryptically.
“My dear guests, your attention please!” Lady Hammond called out, tinkling a few keys on the pianoforte for greater effect.
Gerard looked at their hostess and then allowed his gaze to drift to Pel, just as hers moved to meet his. Her wide smile filled him with contentment. An hour or two more, and they could be alone.
“As a bit of training for tomorrow’s scavenger hunt, Hammond and I have hidden two items somewhere in the manse—a gold pocket watch and an ivory comb. Unless the door is locked, or it is one of your bedchambers, any room is a possible hiding place. Please, if you find an item, make it known. I have a treat in store when the hunt is over.”
Moving to his wife, Gerard was preparing to take her arm when she arched a wicked brow and stepped back. “If you hunt me instead, my lord, we will enjoy ourselves more than we would the watch or comb.”
Instantly, Gray’s blood both quickened and heated. “Minx,” he whispered so as not to be overheard. “Put me off before dinner and then make me chase you for it afterwards.”
The curve of her lush mouth deepened. “Ah, but I am your minx, which is just how you want me.”
The low growl that escaped him could not have been contained if he’d tried. Everything primitive in him responded to her verbal acquiescence to his ownership. The desire to toss her over his shoulder and find the nearest bed was both embarrassing and arousing. The sudden darkening of her eyes told him that she understood what beast she’d stirred and welcomed it. Welcomed him. How was it possible that he had found a wife both genteelly raised and a tigress in bed?
His smile was feral.
She winked and turned on her slippered heel, strolling out of the room with the other guests, her hips moving with an exaggerated swing.
He gave her a few moments head start, and then he pursued her in earnest.
Isabel followed Gray surreptitiously, avoiding both his gaze and the other guests. She should have allowed him to catch her half an hour ago, but she so enjoyed watching his sultry stride and flexing ass. Lord, her husband had the most beautiful ass. And that walk. It was the walk of a man absolu
tely certain he would be fucking shortly. It was languid and loose-limbed. Irresistible.
He was coming back around again and this time she would draw him in, her blood as hot as she was certain his must be. Focused as she was on Grayson, she failed to register the form behind her until a hand was clamped over her mouth and she was dragged back into hiding.
Only when Rhys spoke and she knew her abductor did she cease her startled struggling, her heart still racing. He released her and she rounded on him.
“What the devil are you doing?” she whispered crossly.
“I was about to ask the same of you,” Rhys retorted. “I overheard the dowager Lady Grayson telling Lady Hammond about your pact.”
Isabel winced. How had she forgotten about that? “Dear God.”
“Exactly.” He glowered down at her, every inch the chastising older brother. “Bad enough you would even speak aloud of leaving Grayson, but to say it to his mother who is now spreading the tale. What were you thinking?”
“I was not thinking,” she admitted. “I was distressed and spoke rashly.”
“You chose to marry him. You must now live with that choice as all women of your station do. Can you not find a way to coexist?”
She nodded rapidly. “Yes, I think we can. We have agreed to make the attempt.”
“Oh, Bella.” Rhys sighed and shook his head, his disappointment tangible, flooding her with guilt. “Did you not learn to be practical with Pelham? Carnal craving is not love or even the prelude to it. Why must you be so set on romance?”
“I am not,” she argued, looking away.
“Hmmm…” He caught her chin and dragged her gaze back to his. “You lie, but you are a grown woman and I cannot make your decisions for you. We shall just leave it at that. But I worry over you. You are too sensitive, I think.”
“We cannot all have hearts of steel,” she grumbled.
“Gold.” His smile faded as he expressed his concern. “The dowager is not a woman to take lightly. She is determined, although I do not know why. You are a duke’s daughter and a fine pairing for any peer. If you make a true match with Grayson, I cannot see the objection.”
