by Adele Clee
A smile touched the corners of his mouth, and his brilliant blue eyes glistened. “The Holbrooks are hosting a ball tomorrow evening. It is said to be an event to surpass all others. I’m told everyone will be there. It will be the perfect opportunity for me to speak to Henry Fernall.”
If it was to be such an elaborate soiree why had she not heard of it? “What deems it to be so special? Will there be acrobats and jugglers?”
He shook his head. “There is to be a card game. The stakes will be high. The night will end in rejoicing for some, disaster for others. Whilst the matrons would ordinary disapprove, people will speak of the winners and losers for years to come.”
“And no one would want to admit they were not there to witness such a momentous event.”
“Precisely. In light of what tragedies will come to pass, I doubt many will take notice of us dancing together.”
Her heart fluttered up to her throat. He intended to take her in his arms then. “I cannot recall the last time I took to the floor. There is every chance I will step on your toes.”
“Then I shall just have to hold you a little tighter than would be appropriate.”
“And how tight would that be?” Carried along on a buoyant wave of euphoria, she found it impossible not to continue their amorous banter.
He leant forward and placed his cup on the tray. “Perhaps I should show you. It would not do for you to gasp in shock when we are trying to remain inconspicuous.” He stood and held out his hand.
She glanced at it for a moment, noted that the skin was not as soft and smooth as she remembered. His work in France must have required an element of physical strength. An image of his muscular torso flashed into her mind. She did not need to glance in the mirror to know a blush touched her cheeks.
“I presume you mean to lead me in a waltz,” she said as she slid her hand slowly into his. A soft gasp breezed from her lips. The sudden tingling in her palm and the rush of hot blood racing up her arm caught her off guard.
“You see,” he said with a satisfied smile as he led her to a spot where there was more space. “Such a pleasurable sound is sure to make people stare.” He wrapped his arm around her waist, made no attempt to hold a perfect line as he pulled her close.
“I think people would gape if we stood this close.” His coat skimmed her dress. The taut muscles in his legs brushed against her thighs. As he hummed a triple-beat rhythm, they swayed back and forth, round and round. “It feels positively indecent.” The sudden rush of excitement made her giddy.
“Am I to assume from your playful tone that you approve of my attempt at indecency?” The undeniable sensuality in his words held her captive.
“Can you not hear my approval when I catch my breath?” She could feel all control slipping. She relished being so intimate with him. “Can you not see it reflected in my eyes?”
He stared into her eyes as they moved together. In his, she saw a look of longing, a smoldering passion that roused an ache deep in her core.
“Do you want me to tell you what I see in your eyes,” he said in a husky tone.
Her broad smile conveyed the happiness she felt inside. “Please do.”
“I see the young woman I once knew. I see the same vibrant vivacity that always held me spellbound. I see the woman I am yearning to know again, a woman whose potent allure draws me, a woman I cannot live without.”
Isabella choked back a sob. She never thought to hear such beautiful words from him again. She never thought she would ever feel so adored. “Make me yours, Tristan.” The words tumbled from her mouth without thought or censure.
Make me feel clean; make me feel whole.
But she did not give him a chance to respond. Giving in to the craving that clawed away inside, she pressed her lips to his as though she would die without his touch.
Chapter 14
The kiss felt different from the one they had shared at Highley Grange. There was something raw, something possessive about the way she claimed his mouth.
By God, he was not complaining.
Her lips were so hot, soft as silk as they moved sensually over his. He drew her close. The desperate need burning within threatened to consume him. Blood rushed to his cock, fast, furious, the throbbing ache growing in intensity until the desire to bury himself deep inside her became unbearable.
He had never needed her like he did at that moment.
The thought forced a groan from the depths of his throat, and he coaxed her plump flesh apart with his tongue to penetrate her mouth. Pure carnal lust ripped through him. His heart swelled until he feared it might burst from his chest.
“God, I have waited so long to taste you,” he panted as they broke to catch their breath. “I will die if I don’t have you.”
She stepped back out of his grasp. The loss of her warm body made him want to cry out in despair, the pain growing unbearable when she walked over to the door.
“I have waited a lifetime to feel your touch, too.” She turned the key in the lock. “And I can wait no longer.”
As she swung back around to face him, she wore her desire like her masquerade mask: with confidence, with pride. Her eyes sparkled like the dark jewels beneath the candlelight. Her aura held the same magnetic quality as it had done that night. Yet there was one intrinsic difference. As she came to stand before him, her lips were curved up into a bright smile.
Bloody hell.
He wanted to spend his whole life making her happy.
When he held out his hands, she hurried into his arms. They embraced for a few seconds, clung on to each other, their breathless pants evidence of what this moment meant to both of them.
“Know I will never desert you,” he whispered as he rained kisses along the elegant line of her jaw. “You will never be alone again.”
She closed her eyes, tilted her neck to one side to allow him easier access. “Tell me I am not dreaming. Tell me you’re really here, that I will not wake to find the last few days never existed.”
With trembling hands he cupped her face, revelled in the smoothness of her skin. “Trust me. It is a dream. One I have spent many restless nights imagining. But dreams do come true, Isabella.” He bent his head and traced the line of her lips with his tongue. “Does that not feel real?”
“Yes.” The word was but a whispered sigh.
He kissed her deeply, their tongues dancing slowly and elegantly at first, building in intensity until reaching a crescendo of wild thrusts, whimpers, and groans. Rampant hands grappled for some way to ease the flames roaring within.
“I have never stopped wanting you,” she said, pushing his coat from his shoulders until it fell to the floor. “I never expected to know your body again.”
He fiddled with his cravat, angled his head so he still had access to her mouth. His waistcoat joined the pile on the threadbare rug. But before he could drag his shirt off his back, delicate hands found their way beneath the fine lawn to caress the hard planes.
“Isabella.” Her name left his lips as he closed his eyes and let his head fall back. Every part of him responded to the touch of her hot hands. He gulped as they drifted down to the fall of his breeches.
“Tell me the truth,” she whispered, her voice rich, luxurious as she stroked the evidence of his arousal through the material. “Have you truly saved yourself all these years?”
Saved was not the word he would use. He had starved himself, and she was the only woman capable of satisfying his hunger. Indeed, he felt no shame for his lack of experience.
“It was always you.” His desire spiralled. “It was only ever you.”
She reacted instantly to his words, claiming his mouth as though she, too, was famished beyond measure.
“I am empty inside without you.” She broke contact to fiddle with the buttons on her dress, gestured for him to offer his assistance.
With his mind lost in a blissful blur he undressed her, stripped her bare, and almost expired from her blinding beauty. Every luscious curve was as he
remembered.
He dragged his shirt over his head with such vigour he feared he might tear the fine lawn. “I have a feeling this will be … will be a cumbersome affair.” He struggled to form coherent words. “God, I cannot wait a moment longer.”
He pulled her into his arms, captured her mouth, his tongue delving deep inside where it was warm and wet. The feel of her soft skin against his chest heightened his arousal. Her fingers found their way into the hair above his nape; the gentle tug made him swell and pulse with need.
“I need you now,” he muttered against her deliciously divine lips.
Her fingers travelled slowly down the front of his chest until she reached the band of his breeches. “Then we must do something about these,” she said with a smirk. “And do you intend to wear your boots? Will it not be a little uncomfortable?”
Damn it all. He felt like a boy fresh from the schoolroom. “I want you so badly I have lost all use of my faculties.”
Her sweet giggle made his cock twitch. “Sit down. Let me help you.”
He dropped into the nearest chair as requested, watched with fascination as her sumptuous breasts wobbled with each tug of his boot. There was something erotic about the way she undressed him, something alluring about her lack of embarrassment. Indeed, he rather suspected she enjoyed the way he devoured her body with just his eyes.
When his cock sprang free of his breeches, she clambered up to sit astride him. “You’ve had a tiring day.” The sweet timbre of her voice fuelled his desire. “Let me ease your tension.”
He expected her to rain kisses along the line of his jaw, to stroke the muscles in his chest with slow sensual caresses. He did not expect her to wrap her dainty fingers around his throbbing cock, to guide him into position and sink slowly down until she had taken the full length of him.
“Bloody hell.”
A long, pleasurable sigh left her lips. “Oh, we have waited so long for this,” she whispered as she began to ride him.
He gripped the soft flesh at her hips, forced his eyes to stay open as he did not want to miss a single second.
“Do you mind that I have taken the lead?” She rolled her hips and took him deeper into her core, her full breasts coming but a few inches from his mouth.
“Hell, no. I am yours. You may do what you want with me.”
A whimper left her lips when he moved his hands to caress her breasts, the pad of his thumb grazing the hard pink nipples. He wanted to lavish the peaks with his tongue, but he would have a lifetime to explore her body.
He watched her with a feeling of wonder. Her rich brown eyes smoldered with an intensity that stole his breath. His restless hands moved over her body, stroking the sweet flesh at the apex of her thighs until her eyes glazed, until she trembled and cried out his name.
“Oh, Tristan. I … I have missed you.”
Damn. The sight of her body quivering with the effects of her release was so magnificent he doubted he would last much longer. Indeed, as her tight muscles pulsed around his length, he knew he would have to move.
Rousing all the strength he could muster, he held her to his damp body, stood and then lowered her down to the floor.
The first thrust, as she wrapped her legs around his waist, caused a guttural groan to burst from his lips. He thought to take his time, to savour every moment, but the urge to pound into her, again and again, took hold.
Digging her fingernails into his buttocks, she spurred him on, drove him long and hard until beads of sweat trickled down his spine, until the moist sound of their joining was sweet music to his ears.
“Don’t stop.” Her breath breezed over him. “Don’t ever stop loving me.”
His heart swelled to gargantuan proportion, the rush of blood filling his cock until he was about ready to burst. “I … I need to withdraw,” he gasped though he was reluctant to leave her warm, wet body.
“Must you?”
Good Lord. He would love nothing more than to spill his seed inside her — to claim her, to make her his, to find a way to cement their souls together for all eternity.
But he was not a selfish man.
Suppressing a groan of disappointment he took himself in hand, though she continued to stroke and caress him until he shuddered with the power of his release.
Struggling to catch his breath, he collapsed on top of her. She wrapped her arms and legs around him and held him tight. As his mind cleared, he took a moment to say a silent prayer of thanks, an expression of gratitude for the force of fate that had worked to bring them together.
They remained in the drawing room for another hour, moved to her bedchamber once they had found the energy to climb the stairs. They ate in her chamber. He loved her into the early hours. Their joining, whilst carnal, conveyed a depth of tenderness and emotion that touched his soul.
“Happiness feels so much more profound when you have experienced sadness,” she mused.
He trailed his fingers over the curve of her hip as they lay naked on the bed. “I never thought to feel this way again,” he said, acknowledging the truth to her words. “It has always been you. I know I will never feel this way with another.”
She smiled, caressed his cheek as she stared into his eyes. “Then we will let nothing keep us apart.”
Chapter 15
The line of carriages stretched all the way along the length of Wigmore Street and once around the circular gardens in the centre of Cavendish Square. A man with nothing better to do could have counted their number which was sure to reach fifty or more.
Tristan was grateful he had chosen to walk. There was little point scanning the row of conveyances looking for Isabella. A grey mist hung in the air like a grimy veil, blurring the lines, so one had to squint to see anything clearly. The drivers’ cries cut through the smoky air as they attempted to ward others away from jumping the queue. Carriage doors opened and slammed shut. Hazy black shadows swarmed the pavement as gentlemen decided to abandon their vehicles and walk.
In stark contrast to the gloomy atmosphere outside, the interior of the Holbrooks’ ballroom was so bright it was blinding. Mirrors stretching from floor to ceiling covered the walls between the long windows. The reflection of numerous chandeliers enhanced the brilliant ambiance. The pale blue and gilt decor gave a light, airy appearance despite there being far too many people packed into the decadent room.
Walking over to the terrace doors, as that was where he had told Isabella he would wait, Tristan was shocked to see Matthew Chandler propped up against a white marble statue of a naked Grecian goddess.
“I thought you were in Bedfordshire.” Chandler straightened and gave an arrogant grin. “Did your business prove to be unsatisfying?”
Tristan smiled. “Not at all. I managed to achieve a great deal in the space of a relatively short period.” He glanced at the double doors leading into the ballroom, anticipating Isabella’s arrival. “Let us just say that my mood is much improved since I last saw you.”
“Ah, I see. You are waiting for someone.” Chandler missed nothing.
“Perhaps.” Tristan was deliberately vague as he knew his friend thrived on intrigue. “I assume you’re here for the card game.”
“Why would you think that?” Chandler said with a smirk. “No. I am here to ravish a wallflower in the hope she’ll marry me and fund my penchant for reckless gambling.”
The gentleman had no shame. “You’re here for the gambling, though I suspect that will be the extent of your activities this evening.”
Chandler raised an arrogant brow. “One never knows when good fortune may strike. In an hour, I could be celebrating a great victory and then I shall have no choice but to find a pleasurable way to channel my excitement.”
Tristan snorted. “Or you may drown your sorrows in a bottle of brandy whilst cradling a loaded pistol in your lap.”
Chandler brushed his hand through his mop of black hair. “It would never come to that. There are plenty of ways to recoup one’s losses without resorting to despera
te measures.” He glanced up at the statue’s bare marble breasts. “It may require selling my soul to a lonely widow or two.”
Tristan chuckled, amazed that the gentleman could be so calm whilst anticipating such a dire outcome. “I doubt it will be your soul that you’ll be selling.”
Chandler laughed, too. “As you’re so jovial this evening, am I to assume you are eager to be reunited with Isabella? I cannot help but wonder what has happened in the space of three days to alter your mood.”
It occurred to him that his friend could prove to be a useful ally in his investigation. Chandler knew the sordid habits of many gentlemen of the ton. “You are well aware I did not go to Bedfordshire.”
Chandler slapped his hand to his chest in surprise but could not hide his wicked grin. “Then where the blazes have you been?”
Tristan glanced back over his shoulder. “Hoddesdon.”
“Hoddesdon? You mean the village on the road to Cambridge?”
“Isabella lives at Highley Grange, but half a mile from there.” Tristan hesitated. If Marcus were here, he would caution him about trusting a man he had not seen for five years. “Can I trust you, Matthew?” he asked, although he already knew the answer.
Chandler jerked his head back in surprise. “You should not have to ask the question. I am not a gentleman who needs friends or companions. I told you once that I would never forget what you did for me, and I meant it.”
Tristan put his hand on Chandler’s shoulder. “There is a reason Isabella sought me out. She believes someone may have murdered her husband. My brother Andrew was travelling from Hoddesdon when he fell from his horse and broke his neck. She thinks both incidents are connected.”
Chandler rubbed his chin. “Or are both unfortunate accidents and she wanted an excuse to be alone with you.”
The mere thought of being alone with Isabella roused the memory of their passionate coupling.
“There is more to the whole situation than that,” he said scrambling around in his mind as he tried to find the best way to tell his friend that he had been chasing ghosts. “Isabella has been the victim of foul play. Whilst at Highley Grange we discovered that Henry Fernall arranged for the servants to frighten her into believing the house was haunted. Indeed, she had taken a house in Brook Street for fear of going home.”
