Mark of The Marquess (The Valiant Love Regency Romance) (A Historical Romance Book)

by Deborah Wilson

  The door opened, and James grabbed her arm gently before yanking her in.

  Then the door closed again, but this time, they were both inside.

  She quickly looked him over and was… disappointed to find him still clothed, though he had removed his jacket and cravat. A button had been undone by his throat, leaving it pleasantly exposed.

  She imagined the heat that rested there, waiting for her to press her mouth against it.

  “Who told you about Arrah?” he asked. “Your aunt?” He crossed his arms over his chest.

  Just hearing the woman’s name made her stomach burn. She straightened. “Perhaps.”

  He grunted. “Well, I wasn’t comparing you to her. I was comparing you to my friend, Lady Cartelle.”

  “Cartelle?” she asked. “You’re friends with a duchess? And a duke?”

  He lifted a brow. “I’m a marquess. Who else would I be associated with?”

  She blinked and then folded her hands before her. “I admit, I forget you to be a marquess. Why did the lady sit outside your door?”

  He shuffled on his feet slightly. “It was the night I returned to London after receiving my scars. I accused Lord Cartelle of being my kidnapper. He’d been arrested. She’d come to plead I dismiss the charges.”

  It was the most he’d ever said about that night. Glad he’d opened up to her, she decided to not press for more details at the moment. She was already pushing him on other matters. “Are you still friends with Lady Cartelle?”

  He nodded. “We’ve been friends for years, but I’m closer to her brother, Lord Laurel Curbain.”

  “Oh, I believe I’ve heard of him,” Kim said.

  “Most women have. He’s known to be charming,” he said with slight irritation she knew held no actual malice.

  She smiled. “I want to meet these friends of yours.”

  “I’m sure you will. If they come.” He leaned against the door. “Lore swore he’d come again. He’s like that. Relentless even when I push him away.”

  “Oh, I think I like him very much now,” Kim said with true feeling.

  James’ eyes became hooded. “He’ll come once he’s heard I’ve married. Then I shall introduce you as Lady Denhallow.”

  “Good,” she said. “Because, otherwise, I’d forget my title. We never go anywhere where others make one feel superior.” She wasn’t complaining and hoped he knew that.

  She didn’t feel like a marchioness. She felt like Kim. She liked that. She’d not felt like herself in so long.

  He glared. “The servants would make you feel superior if you would stop treating them like distant relations.”

  She smiled and started toward him. “It bothers you, doesn’t it? I notice how your expression changes when I include one of them in our conversations.”

  He watched her with the same caution he had downstairs in the library. He didn’t move though. “Perhaps, I simply don’t like to share you.”

  Kim felt like lightning flashed and filled her entire body at those words. She placed her hands on his crossed arms, felt the muscle bunch, and asked, “Why did you shut me out after our kiss? I know you enjoyed it.”

  His breathing grew labored, and he looked away. “We are not… that to each other.”

  “But we can be.” She lowered her voice and inched her body closer.

  “No.”

  She stilled.

  He hadn’t shouted, but his gaze had returned to her. “We’ll not go there. A kiss is one matter, but anything else… We should restrain ourselves from doing more.”

  “All right.” She grinned and tried very hard to keep from showing just how devious her thoughts had become. “Then we shall add kissing into our contract.”

  His eyes widened in outrage. “You want to do it again?”

  Kim narrowed her gaze. “Is it not obvious?” Had she not thrown herself at him? Was she not doing so right now?

  He swallowed. “Very well, but only one a day.”

  She threw back her head and laughed at the absurdity of this argument, and yet she found it all the more exciting. A week ago, he would hesitate when she touched him. Now she would get a kiss a day.

  And in the weeks to come, who knew what else she’d gain?

  He narrowed his gaze as though he knew where her thoughts had gone, but he said nothing. He only shook his head.

  ∫ ∫ ∫

  2 2

  “The stones. The west wing,” James said three evenings later.

  Kim looked up at him from the book she’d been reading across the library, a diary kept by his grandmother. “What?”

  James stood from where he’d been reading the book written by his father, the one that had spoken about the house and its cornerstone. “The west wing was added on by my grandfather.” He wondered why he’d not thought of it before. “It’s likely the brick was moved to the basement.” Even destroyed. He felt foolish that he’d not remembered before now. “My grandmother had said so once. She said she’d been glad he added the west wing so they could invite more friends during the winter.” For weeks on end, the house had been full of people when James had been younger. “Before him, the house had been an ‘L’ shape, not a ‘U’.”

  Kim popped up onto her knees. She’d looked adorable circled up by the fireplace on the rug. She was already dressed for bed in a rose-colored night rail and robe, both of the finest quality. Her long black hair shimmered in the light.

  She’d asked him to join her by the flames, but he’d refused.

  He’d asked her how she could prefer the floor to the chairs. Her only answer had been a teasing smile that left him wondering… which was likely what she’d wanted all along. His wife was as complex as the geometric-patterned rug she rested on, but more beautiful and far more tempting to be near.

  He crouched beside her. One of his knees hit the rug before her. He rested an arm on the other. “Would you like to go down and see what we can find?” He held out his hand.

  She took it swiftly and then leaned forward and rubbed her nose against his before pulling away. “You’re so wonderful, James.” She smiled and stood.

  James remained frozen in place even as her intimate touch burned him.

  He’d promised her one kiss a day and ever since, she’d found a hundred ways to tease him until she finally gave it to him. By the end of the first day, he’d been all but panting for it. He’d almost allowed himself to think she’d changed her mind and no longer wanted it... only to receive a very heated and startling caress of her mouth before they both retired for bed.

  Then he’d ached the entire night because of it, but he was loath to wave a white flag. He wanted that kiss just as much as she did and so he took it, but reminded himself of the boundaries, the necessary boundaries, she’d placed on them.

  He suspected that soon her pity would vanish, and she would wonder how she had ever stomached placing her mouth to him. She might even regret the kisses later on, but he would not have her regret them coupling. His pride would not suffer it.

  He regrouped in his head and prepared himself to face her before he did.

  She stood by the door. Grinning. Rarely did she wear any other expression around him. She held out her hand. He walked over, took it, and led the way from the room. When they reached the door to the basement, he felt the cold drift up from the dark. “One moment. I’ll go and retrieve your cloak.”

  “All right,” she said with an expression as sweet as her voice.

  He left and returned quickly.

  Then he grabbed a lamp and started down the stone steps. The servants used it for nothing more than storing old furniture now, but he knew it was well organized and clean enough for their visit.

  “What makes you believe it is down here?” Kim asked.

  “I recall playing with a stable boy once—”

  Kim gasped and turned to him. “You mean you played with stable boys? However did you manage to stay superior?” There was some mockery and true astonishment in her tone.


  His cheeks burned. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d been embarrassed by his actions. “Henry and I…”

  “He even remembers the lad’s name,” Kim murmured to herself.

  “We were playing with some stones we found down here and broke a mirror,” he rushed on, so that she wouldn’t interrupt again.

  “Why would your grandfather have kept the stones down here?” she asked the moment they reached the floor.

  He moved to light the other lamps in the cold space. He could see his breath as he spoke. “Because, if anyone else wished to expand the house, they would need the same shade, which might be difficult. It is always best to keep some on hand.”

  “Oh, do you think there are enough to expand my closet? It is growing quite small with all the many purchases that continue to arrive.”

  He turned to her. “Do you need more space in your closet?” He began to think about tearing a wall down. But what was on the other side? A drawing room? It would likely never be used.

  Kim laughed. “James, it was a joke. Oh, I do love how you spoil me.”

  He shook his head and looked away, so she wouldn’t see his smile.

  Clothes covered almost everything, but in the corner of the room was a stack of wood he knew hid the stones from sight. He went over. Still holding his lamp, he circled the planks and gazed at the large pile of rocks. They were mountainous, enough to build another wall or two at least. It was likely that if he’d told the servants what he’d been looking for, one of them would have remembered the stones back here. But they weren’t visible with the wall of plank wood guarding them from sight.

  Immediately, he saw one toward the back that appeared to have writing on it. By the time he’d carefully begun to climb the stones, Kim was there.

  “Be careful!” she said.

  He kept his balance. “If I fall, you’ll be a wealthy widow.”

  “Don’t ever say a thing like that!”

  He looked over at her and saw the distress on her features. She was holding herself tightly. Used to her smiles, he didn’t like this new look. “It was only a joke,” he admitted, even as his heart raced.

  She shook her head, her eyes haunted. “Never jest in that way, James. Not again. Swear it.”

  James swallowed. Lady Macy had taken her to a party earlier that day. It had been her first public appearance as Lady Denhallow. He’d seen the look in her eyes when he’d sent her alone. She’d not asked him to join her verbally, but the pleading had been in her gaze. When she’d returned hours later, he’d anticipated many emotions. Anger that he’d left her to go alone. Relief that he’d stayed home, which had allowed her to have a wonderful time in the company of normal people. Hurt. Happiness.

  She’d given him none of those.

  Instead, she’d simply hugged him before going off to change in her rooms. When he’d asked after the evening, she’d claimed to have had a pleasant time, but she didn’t give any details. Had she met another man? Had the hug been given in guilt? He didn’t know, but what he did know was that her affectionate act toward him hadn’t changed, so he’d let it go.

  But now he wondered, was it an act or did she actually… care for him?

  His heart thundered in his chest. “I swear.” He looked away and concentrated on finding the stone that had caught his eye.

  Finally, he got to it. Setting the lamp down with great care, he picked it up. But what he saw wasn’t writing. It had simply been the stone’s fine edges.

  “Oh, I found it!” Kim cried.

  He turned and saw her gazing at a stone that sat on a short pillar not far from the other rocks. She held a cloth in one hand. She’d likely picked it up to reveal the stone.

  James should have known his father would keep the stone somewhere safe, treating it like the treasure it was.

  “Come look, James!” She was bouncing in place.

  Her happiness buried any annoyance he felt at having struggled to get to his side of the room. He made it back to her and was surprised to see Julia etched into the stone. It was beautiful.

  Kim moved closer and rested her head on his chest.

  His arm immediately went around her, and she settled into his side as they gazed at the stone. A testament of love.

  “I want my own stone.”

  “Done,” he said before the words could fully leave her lips. He’d been thinking the same. She was already etching herself into his soul. What was a rock?

  Kim tilted her head to look up at him. “I’m ready for my kiss now.”

  His heart roared with need. He turned her and dipped his head. “I’ve waited all day for this,” he whispered before he crushed his mouth to hers. He used a hand to angle her head in a way that pried her mouth open with a gasp.

  Her hands moved to fist the arms of his coat and he groaned, encouraging her to hang on, because this kiss would not be gentle. He was famished. The very foundations of his world had been shaken by this woman. James knew at any moment the floor would give and he would fall, harder than he ever thought he would, harder than he thought he should.

  He would fall, and he’d have no one to blame but himself for being unable to resist Kim’s charms. She was his Delilah. He was Samson, and he would give her the sharpest pair of shears he could find if she wished to cut his hair. He had no strength where she was concerned.

  He picked her up, and her legs went around him.

  “Husband,” she whispered into his mouth.

  He shook and nearly collapsed to his knees. No other term had ever made him feel so complete. But he wasn’t complete. Not until he had her.

  And he would have her. Over and over again.

  She would weep in pleasure, louder than the soft moans she made now.

  He was walking them to the couch he knew was on the other side of the room when footsteps thundered down the first few steps from the entrance to the basement before coming to a stop.

  “My lord!” Byron called. “You’ve visitors! And they’ve brought trunks!” The excitement that he was unable to contain showed just how long it had been since anyone but Lady Macy and Mr. Jacobson had come around.

  Yet James did not share in the boy’s enthusiasm. He’d been far more enthusiastic about the possibilities of pleasure with Kim.

  His plans had been ruined!

  He pulled his mouth from Kim and groaned in frustration, though he was sure it came out as more of a roar. Kim clung to him.

  Byron quickly retreated back up the steps.

  “I think you scared him,” Kim whispered.

  James turned to his wife. He still held her in his arms. He wasn’t ready to let her go or break from the moment. “Did I frighten you?”

  She grinned lazily. “No. I like it when you’re beastly.”

  He often thought himself a beast, yet when she used the term, something softened within him. He tightened his arms around her. “You’re a complete wanton, you know.”

  Her smile fell. “Does that displease you?”

  He kissed her again, quickly, since technically he wasn’t supposed to. How swiftly one kiss had grown. “No.”

  She had a dreamy look that pleased him. “We should go see who’s arrived.”

  He set her down and began to douse the lights. He grabbed his lamp and met her at the bottom of the stairs. “It will take two minutes to send them and their trunks away.”

  “Don’t,” Kim said as she took his hand. They started up the steps. “I’ll go change into a gown and you will greet our guests with great kindness. Oh, please?” Excitement filled her gaze, and he knew then that he’d do whatever she asked.

  She’d be the death of him.

  ∫ ∫ ∫

  2 3

  James stilled as he heard the voices that came from the foyer and drifted down the hall.

  He knew those people. He’d expected Kim’s family days ago. And yes, he could hear Lady Peckshire among the crowd, but there were others. He took a deep breath and continued around the corner until he reached his extremely
unwelcome guests.

  His home had been invaded.

  There were crying babies and chattering women. He knew them all, Kim’s family less so.

  He’d expected Lore to come around. He’d even known there was a possibility that he’d bring his wife, Lady Brinley, and their three-year-old twins, Liberty and Creed, since the man became unbearable if they were not in reaching distance.

  What he’d not suspected was that Lore would bring his brothers, the Duke of Ayers and General Lord Hero Curbain.

  Yet even if those two had come, he’d never had anticipated seeing their wives, Everly, the Duchess of Asher, and Lady Beatrix.

  And there were more children with them than he remembered them having. Everly held a baby he’d not been introduced to. Hero and Beatrix’s son John, who was nearly four, ran around with his twin cousins as the families spoke with Kim’s family.

  He nearly came apart when he noted two more guests walking in. Lady Valiant and her husband, the Duke of Cartelle, joined the lot that filled the foyer. They, too, had a child… who the dowager, Lady Peckshire, was quick to greet.

  The dowager’s son Charles, Lord Peckshire, with his wife Sarah, who he knew Kim would be pleased to see, were also there.

  In total, sixteen people. More than James had seen in one room in years.

  James’ breath became rushed and his vision was beginning to fade. No wonder Byron had been so full of excitement. This was a party. One he’d never intended to have.

  From the back of the crowd, standing an inch or two in height over the others, His Grace, the Duke of Asher, caught his eye and announced to those around, “Our host has arrived.”

  James stiffened.

  Valiant gave their baby to her husband, Cartelle, and then rushed over. James stumbled when her arms went around him in warm greeting. Then she pulled away and said, “How dare you marry and not tell us!”

  Lore rushed over then and hugged James as well. Coming unglued from his position, James managed to pat him on the back, though he was still working within a daze.

  “We’re happy for you,” Lore said. “We were on our way to London for the Season but decided to come here first.”