Never Surrender to a Scoundrel (23 page)

“So tight,” he groaned.

“So…big,” she whispered, her toes curling inside her boots. She squeezed his shoulders, and felt his muscles bunch beneath her palms.

He chuckled and groaned, and as he began to move inside her, he made other, deeper, more wolfish sounds. He grasped her thighs, her knees…brought her ankles behind his hips.

“Is that…good?” he asked, sinking deeper.

“Yes!”

The inside of the folly echoed with their voices and the sounds of their clothing and bodies shifting and sliding together. As his weight settled onto her, he pushed more deeply and she shifted in her efforts to accommodate.

“Ahh.” He growled deep in his chest and stopped moving…only to dig the toes of his boots against the stone floor and rock into her more urgently until she cried out, stunned by pleasure.

“My wife,” he whispered, his hands finding hers and stretching her arms above their heads, kissing her sweetly. “My beautiful wife.”

His hips moved, slowly at first, then faster, delivering waves of pleasure through her womb with each advance and retreat of his sex. She tightened her thighs, pulling his powerful body closer, wanting to bewitch him and keep him there forever. Here there were no arguments, no secrets, and no past, only the now.

“Clarissa,” he moaned.

Looking up, she found his eyes glazed and his cheeks deeply flushed. The same fever claimed her, as her body strove for some greater gratification, a paradise she instinctively knew existed just out of reach. He rutted into her, she clutching at his shoulders, learning she brought them both more pleasure when she matched his every thrust for thrust.

“Now.” Above her his expression went stricken, yet in the next moment his lips spread…slowly…into a shocked sort of smile. Under his shirt, his muscles seized beneath her hands.

“Dominick!”

“Agh—” he groaned, his head going back.

She froze as a beautiful, throbbing heat flooded her womb—

And quickly transformed into something else, sweeping her into a soaring delirium. Her body clenched and pulsed around his member, finding its release.

She clung to him, startled and amazed, feeling that her spirit hovered high above the earth, tangled up with his. Slowly the sensations ebbed, and she floated like a feather, languid and spent, able to breathe again.

Dominick gathered her in his arms and held her tightly, breathing hard into her hair, his heart pounding against her breasts.

Then he rolled away, falling onto his back on the blanket beside her.

“Clarissa,” he said, sounding amazed. “That was…indescribable.”

“I did not know it could be like that.” The breath rushed from her lungs and she lowered her head against his chest, listening to the heavy
thud
of his heart, never having felt this close to anyone ever before.

“Neither did I,” he answered quietly.

His words made her happy. Deliriously so.

She sighed, wrapping her arms around him, and kissed his face—the hard planes of his cheeks. His masculine nose. His eyes. He had just confessed that something truly earth-shattering had taken place between them. She did not harbor ill feelings toward his dead wife but selfishly needed to know their lovemaking pleased him more.

“I can't wait to do it again,” she whispered.

He laughed, deep in his throat, and she savored the rich sound in her ear. Reaching up, his hand touched her hair. “I for one am all for an early evening tonight.”

She laughed as well. He rolled her onto her back and kissed her, urgently sweet, and then broke away to stand. She watched from the blanket as he fastened his breeches and tucked his shirt in.

Looking down at her, he tied his cravat. “You lying there like that…you're the most lovely thing I've ever seen.”

She'd been so entranced watching him, she still lay like a wanton, tangled in her clothes, her breasts and thighs naked and exposed.

His eyes burning with renewed heat, he reached down and pulled her to her feet. His palms framed her face and he kissed her tenderly—then passionately, backing her against a column. His hands fell to her shoulders, holding her captive against the cool stone as his hot mouth descended her neck, and then her collarbone, finally devouring her breasts. She arched in response, surrendering willingly.

Catching her hand, he pressed her palm against the ridge of his arousal.

“Look what you do to me,” he growled, returning to her mouth.

She did not pull away but boldly measured his size—which increased as she touched him.

“I could have you now, again. Here against this column,” Dominick murmured.

“Why don't you?” she asked.

“Wicked minx,” he teased as his hands deftly buttoned her dress. “It's getting colder and there are clouds rolling in.”

“I hadn't noticed.”

Just then a sharp gust of air swept through the folly, blowing leaves across the blanket. Clarissa shivered.

“Ah, see there?” Dominick pulled the open flaps of her pelisse together and buttoned those as well. He smiled, his hands settling on her belly, and his expression became serious. “So stop tempting me, and let me take care of you and the baby.”

The day they'd married, he'd never expected to feel such desire and affection for her, along with the overwhelming wish to protect her and the baby.

Clarissa peered up at him. “Just as long as you let me take care of you as well.”

He retrieved her hat, lowered it onto her head, and tied the ribbon the best he could. “There. If you don't take it off, no one can tell you've been ravished.”

She laughed. But then he heard something. He turned his face to the side and listened. Horses' hooves on the road.

“Someone's coming.”

Clarissa quickly pulled her gloves on and gave him a dazzling smile. “Thank heavens they didn't arrive ten minutes ago. We'd have given them quite the shock.”

He left her to fold the blanket and pour the unfinished bottle of wine into the grass.

The rider appeared. It was Colin, and he rode close enough to speak.

“Hello, Colin,” Dominick said.

Colin gripped the reins of his mount with his gloved hands. “Lady Blackmer has visitors waiting at the house. The Duke of Claxton. Also, a man he has introduced as his brother, Lord Haden.”

Dominick's mood turned instantly dark. Claxton, here? Why?

Dominick saw Clarissa's face go white.

“Oh, no,” she whispered. “The only reason they would have come so soon after we left London is if they bear bad news. Is it Wolverton?”

She rushed toward the curricle and Dominick followed.

Y
our Grace,” she said, rushing into the drawing room, fearing the worst. “Lord Haden. Tell me what has happened. Is Sophia all right?”

Sophia had miscarried their first child, but her sister's current pregnancy had seemed healthy from the start.

Claxton turned from where he stood beside the fire. He looked weary and travel worn. “On the contrary. Everyone is well.”

“Even Wolverton?”

“He is actually very much improved,” Claxton assured in a soothing voice.

Clarissa exhaled, relieved, and threw herself into his arms. “I'm so glad to see you. It feels like forever since Blackmer and I departed London.”

“Am I invisible?” Haden asked, drolly.

“Of course not.” Euphoric now to see them, she embraced him warmly as well.

Lord Haden was Claxton's younger brother, and while he'd once collected scandals like Beau Brummell collected snuffboxes, he'd grown more serious of late and traveled much, after receiving an attaché appointment where he acted as a proxy for the duke in matters of foreign policy.

Lady Stade watched raptly from her chair. She had changed for dinner and looked fashionable and elegant in dark blue, thrilled to have a duke standing in her parlor. Lord Stade stood near the window, his expression one of interest.

“How long will the two of you be staying?” Clarissa inquired.

“We won't, I'm afraid.” The duke tilted his head toward Lady Stade. “Although Lady Stade has already extended a very gracious invitation.”

Lady Stade effused, “Unless you can convince them otherwise.”

“I'm afraid that won't be possible,” Haden added in a teasing voice, “being that he can't stand to be parted from the duchess for more than five minutes anymore.”

Claxton threw him a barbed look. To Clarissa, he smiled. “It's true, of course. He just isn't supposed to say it here in front of everyone.”

Clarissa smiled. “Why not stay the night and leave early tomorrow?”

“Of course you will stay the night,” said Blackmer from the direction of the door, where he'd remained since they'd arrived. While his expression wasn't exactly welcoming, Clarissa took heart in his insistence that the duke and his younger brother remain. “It's already late and you won't make appreciable distance before it gets dark. I'll tell the footmen to bring in your things.”

With one final look toward Clarissa, he quit the room.

Haden drifted toward the door, looking after Blackmer. “That longsword I saw on the way through the vestibule, is it Norman?”

Clarissa wasn't a fool. She recognized his obvious attempt to draw her in-laws away.

Lord Stade's expression brightened. “Indeed. It has been in her ladyship's family…well, since her Norman forebears invaded this fair isle alongside William.”

“May I have a look?”

“Allow me to accompany you,” His Lordship answered. “There are several other very ancient weapons you might also like to see. I can show them to you.”

Claxton said to her, “Clarissa, is there somewhere I could speak with you alone?”

“Should I summon Blackmer?” asked Lady Stade, standing.

Claxton answered politely. “Just my sister-in-law, if you will. Family talk.”

“Certainly,” answered her ladyship graciously, moving to the door. “Take all the time you need. I must inform Cook we will have guests for dinner and ensure your rooms are prepared.”

She left but did not close the doors, something that Claxton quickly remedied. When he turned toward Clarissa, she couldn't remain quiet any longer.

“Why have you come?” she asked.

“Are you well here, Clarissa?” he inquired, his expression intent, and reading her face.

“Yes.”

“Are you happy?”

“Things were difficult at first.” And still were, between Dominick and his family. But she thought of the passion that had transpired between them just a half hour ago and answered, “But yes, I am happy.”

Claxton moved to the center of the carpet. “I don't know if you were aware, but Blackmer made clear at the time of your marriage that he declined any marriage settlement that Wolverton might offer. At the time, I just thought he was making a show of his pride and trying to prove he wasn't a fortune hunter.” He looked about the room. “I suppose now I understand why he could afford to make such a dramatic refusal.”

“Pride, yes. He has a lot of that.” Clarissa remained otherwise silent, not wanting to explain Dominick's complicated conflict with his family and his refusal to accept the privilege of his family's wealth.

“Even so, Wolverton insists on you receiving a settlement equal to that which your sisters received upon their marriages, to include an income-earning property that for now will remain under Wolverton's stewardship, until such time you decide to transfer that responsibility to your husband or manage those duties yourself.” Claxton removed a thick leather packet from his inside coat pocket and placed it in her hands. “You'll find the particulars here, as well as any necessary bank letters. They are yours to do with as you wish.”

Things were different between her and Blackmer now, and as soon as they were alone she intended to share the news of her settlement with her husband. Perhaps he would agree to use the funds to improve Frost End.

“Thank you for all you've done for me. It is so good to see a familiar face, but…you came all the way just to bring me this, when you could have sent a letter or other representative instead? Last month you ceased all official travel, to remain with Sophia as the time of the baby's birth grows near. And yet you are here.”

“There is something more,” he answered, his expression grave.

“Tell me then outright.”

His gaze moved to the carpet. “Clarissa, the moment I heard the name Blackmer, I thought I recognized it, but I couldn't place it at the time. Not until after you were gone, and I made some discreet inquiries.”

Inquiries. Given her husband's past with the secret service, and his wish to keep the more sensitive details of his role as an agent undiscovered, Clarissa felt immediately wary on his behalf.

“What sort of inquiries? Is Wolverton aware? Did he send you here?”

“He knows nothing of this. I feared the revelation of what I discovered and am about to impart to you would take a toll on his health. And please know Haden knows nothing as well, nor Sophia, nor anyone else. This conversation must remain between you and me.”

He seemed so grave; she didn't like it.

“I know all I need to know about Dominick,” she assured him. “For whatever reason, Grandfather trusted him, and so do I.”

“I have learned something deeply troubling, and I must share what I know with you.”

“He was married before. I know that.”

“Just listen to me, Clarissa,” he insisted, with an edge of command to his voice.

She sighed, anxious. Wishing Blackmer was there. “Go on.”

“I was wrong about his role in the service, that he was a lowly security agent.”

“I—I know that too, although he has not shared any of the confidential details.”

“Well, I will—at least some of them, because you as his wife deserve to know.”

“This doesn't feel right without him here.” She glanced at the door, wishing Dominick would return.

“Once I have my say you are more than welcome to reveal whatever you wish about our conversation to him.”

She exhaled, exasperated, and nodded. “Go on then.”

He did not hesitate a moment more. “Clarissa, Blackmer's assignment to protect Wolverton was a demotion for him of sorts.”

A demotion? She frowned. The revelation ruffled her own pride for some reason, on behalf of her husband, who instinct told her was highly competent in all things related to his intelligence service.

“How so?”

“Blackmer was once a member of a small but very elite company of foreign service agents who acted abroad, under a veil of utmost secrecy, on the direct orders of the Security Council—and the Crown.”

“You are saying that he was a spy,” she replied. She rubbed her arms and moved to stand closer to the fire, feeling a surge of pride rather than concern. “I surmised as much, but those matters are confidential, and he very much honors his vows of silence. Perhaps, Claxton, as I said before, we shouldn't even be discussing them here when he is not even in the room.”

“He was not just a spy.” He stared at her. “The group to which he belonged was a very small and clandestine one, much feared by England's enemies. But I'm afraid you're right, and that's all I can say as far as specifics.”

“So why are you telling me this, with such a grave look on your face?”

“Because by nature these men are dangerous, Clarissa. Ruthless, and capable of following any directive without qualm or question.”

She read between the lines of what he tried to say without actually saying it.

“You're telling me he was an assassin?”

“I'm telling you, he would have carried out any order.” He continued, in a hushed tone, speaking of someone else: the man Dominick had been before they married. A cold and distant stranger, not the man she had come to know. She did not care what he had done in his prior life. He had acted out of duty, and for that she could only respect him more.

She closed her eyes, remembering the husband she'd made love to on an overlook by the ocean. A husband to whom she had given not only her body but her heart. She couldn't deny the truth.

She'd fallen in love with him. Completely. Consumingly.

“None of this makes any difference to me,” she said.

If there was more she needed to know, then it must be Blackmer who told her. These were his secrets to share.

“Because you haven't heard everything. Clarissa, it's only right that you know what happened to bring about Blackmer's fall from grace. Something troubling that I wish we had all known before.”

She reacted angrily. “So you could foist me on someone else? It's too late for that. I'm happy with Blackmer. More than happy, so you can just stop right there. I don't want to hear anything else you have to say.”

“Foist you on someone else?” His eyes narrowed at that, discerning.

Only then did she realize her misstep. Claxton still believed she and Dominick had carried on an affair and that he was the father of her child.

She recovered as best she could. “I only meant if you'd known about Blackmer's past, you would have somehow found someone else to marry me. I wouldn't want that. As I said before, I'm happy with my husband, so just stop there and don't say anything else.”

“My conscience demands that I must,” insisted Claxton. “I'm gravely concerned because I fear this marriage has placed you in a position of danger.”

She shook her head. “In danger, from Blackmer? That isn't possible.”

That afternoon, he had bared his soul to her. He looked forward to the baby's birth with such joy and wanted to be a father. No. Whatever Claxton thought he had discovered, it meant nothing to her.

Claxton responded with a degree of emotion he rarely displayed to anyone other than her sister. “It
is
possible, I'm afraid. You must hear me out and then decide whether to leave here with me tomorrow or to stay. Your sister and everyone else are going to Camellia House to await the birth of the baby. It's a short distance, so Wolverton is traveling there as well. You can state that as your explanation to leave.”

“To
escape
. That's what you mean to say.” She gasped, taken back. “And then what?”

“And then you don't have to see him ever again.”

“There is nothing that would make me want to leave him.”

“His first wife—”

“Tryphena,” she whispered. “Yes, I know, she died. I also know she was an agent as well.”

“Someone killed her.”

Killed. The word meant something very different than “died,” as if by an accident or unfortunate misstep. “Killed” suggested an untimely death. And violence, she feared.

“Just tell me,” she whispered. “Tell me whatever it is you have to say, so we can be done with this.”

Claxton's lips thinned. “The whole matter is shrouded in secrecy, and I can locate no one willing to reveal the truth of the details, but, Clarissa, Blackmer most certainly had something to do with it. They were estranged at the time and, by all accounts, on very poor terms. I could not remain in London knowing you were possibly in danger.”

“You're saying that Blackmer killed her.”

She recoiled, angrier now at Claxton for all but accusing her husband of murder. It wasn't true. She didn't believe it for one moment.

Claxton's cheeks tightened with tension. “What I'm saying is that you have married a very dangerous man.”

At that moment, the door opened and Blackmer entered the room, tall, lithe, and silent, his eyes dark with shadows.

“Pardon the intrusion,” he said, entering a few steps more. “But I do believe I should be included in any closed-door discussions you might have with my wife.”

Clarissa looked at him, clearly startled by his entrance. Startled. Why?

“These are private family matters,” Claxton replied haughtily.

Dominick raised an eyebrow. “That's interesting. I thought
I
was Clarissa's family.”

“That remains to be seen,” the duke replied, his voice bearing a distinct edge.

The muscles along Dominick's shoulders tensed and his lips parted to let loose a blistering response—

“
Claxton,
” Clarissa intervened, with a sharp glance to her brother-in-law. “Blackmer is my husband. He is indeed my family.”

She looked at Dominick with a smile that didn't reach her eyes, clearly attempting to instill a more conciliatory tone into the conversation. “His Grace brings news that Wolverton's health improves.”