Tempting Bella (Entangled Scandalous) (18 page)

Before she could react, he flipped her over again, working on her stays and pulling them open; her chemise followed until, except for her stockings and slippers, she at last lay bare before him.

He paused to take in the lushness of her womanly form, the roundness of her peaked breasts, the indentation of her belly button, the soft, downy hair that began just below her stomach and exploded into a riot of heavenly dark curls between silken creamy thighs. His enthralled senses inhaled every part of her, feasting on the elemental things he had missed all of these years. “You are so lovely.”

She laughed, the imp. The sound throaty and inviting. “Are you just going to stand there? Perhaps you have forgotten how it’s done.”

“You are a bold piece.” She caught her breath when his hand closed over the soft swell of her breast, savoring its quivering warmth. He thumbed the rigid point. It had been so long.

Her hand came over his, her voice pleading. “Sebastian, I want you to lie with me. Please.”

Still cupping one breast, he pressed a gentle kiss on the other and inhaled the sweet scent of her skin. “It will pain you.”

“Meeker women than I have withstood it,” she said, breathless, arching her unbearably soft breast deeper into his hand.

His body shaking with need, he felt through the tangle of her sweet curls, relief flooding him when he felt the moist honey of her readiness. He knew he should slow down and keep himself in check so that he didn’t hurt or frighten her, but his manly urges crowded out all cogent thought. On a plaintive groan of long-suppressed need, he freed himself and poised his swollen flesh at the entrance to bliss.

He looked into her exquisite face to find it empty of all guile. Cheeks flushed, her expression was open and emotive as it had been in those first days before she’d realized his deceit. Her golden-brown eyes were brilliant with expectation.

He nudged in a little at a time until he came up against the barrier that proclaimed her a maiden. A surge of masculine satisfaction rifled through him at the confirmation that no other man had ever taken possession of her. Blood roaring through him, he pushed past her maidenhead until he was fully encased, surrounded by the welcome of her sweet, snug heat. He stilled and savored what he had missed for far too long—the essential essence of a woman, the soft breaths and lilting murmurs of pleasure, the scent of feminine arousal. What a glorious woman.

She urged her hips against his. Liquid fire shot through his vitals. He began to move in slow, deliberate movements; her dark wet tightness caressed his swollen gland with each thrust. Her body responded, curving into his. He quickened his pace. Waves of pleasure and pressure intensified, building almost beyond his capacity to bear it. His body’s natural instincts took over and he lost any hope of finesse in this first loving of her.

He stroked hard and strong, throwing off years of restraint, of economy, of suppressed physical longing until everything fell away and there was only her. Ecstasy burned up through his legs into the small of his back. A squeezing, pulling sensation gripped his ballocks and the unbearable tension finally released. He saw black before spinning away into the achingly brilliant bliss of reaching his peak with the incomparable woman who was his wife.

…

The following evening, for her first official showing in society, Bella selected a royal-blue silk gown with a stylishly deep décolletage that was in no way scandalous. The appreciative glint in Sebastian’s eyes as he escorted her out to the dance floor suggested he approved. “How do I look?”

“There is no lovelier woman in the room.”

She moved into his arms for the start of the waltz. “And yet I had to beg for the flattery. How ungallant of you.”

“I was loath to compliment your appearance for fear you’d retreat back to your chamber for a gown more suited to an opera singer.”

She suppressed a smile. “This costume is exceedingly appropriate for the performance I plan this evening.” She pulled her shoulders back in a way that emphasized her full breasts, an asset gentlemen—especially her husband—seemed to appreciate.

The deliberate subtle arching of her back had the desired effect. His eyes went to the pale swells on prominent display above her bodice. His throat moved a little. “And what performance is that, may I ask?”

Batting her eyelashes, she said, “Why, that of the perfect wife and daughter, of course.”

“Wench.” His expression sobered. “Are you certain you are in good health after last evening?”

A sense of well-being flowed through her. “Supremely.”

The tense lines of his face relaxed. “I’m glad to hear it. I fear I was not gentle enough with you.”

“Not to worry. I’m no fragile hothouse bloom.”

“So I noticed.”

She smiled, feeling almost giddy in his arms. Being bedded by her husband had been an astonishing experience, more intimate and pleasurable than she anticipated. She still had lingering misgivings about his financial activities, but at least for this evening she intended to put them aside for a bit. With so many curious eyes observing their every interaction, she was grateful for the security of his embrace. Even though it was a smallish affair by ducal standards—dinner and dancing for fifty, rather than the hundreds typically included in more lavish affairs—she felt the strain of people’s interest in her.

Gazing about, she took in her surroundings. Thousands of candles provided brilliant lighting throughout the public rooms, which were overfilled with mahogany furniture atop gleaming oak floors. The ballroom itself was mostly empty of furnishings except for chairs and benches lining the perimeter of the room intended for chaperones, matrons, and those who preferred to play the part of spectator. Elaborate tapestries graced the walls and a series of niches around the ballroom held ancient statues. She marveled that all this would one day be part of her inheritance, yet she had never seen any of it before now.

Her eyes fell upon a group of people congregated near a statue. Like most guests in the ballroom, they watched with open curiosity, doing little to disguise their interest in her and Sebastian. “They’re all staring at me as though I were some exotic zoo animal.”

Sebastian kept a firm hand on her torso, guiding her in the dance movements. “A beautiful woman always draws her share of attention.”

“I’m sure my looks are secondary. They all want to gawk at Sebastian Stanhope’s mystery wife.”

“It’s more likely they’re curious about Traherne’s heir. A duchess in her own right is a rare thing indeed.”

When the music came to an end, they reluctantly parted since manners dictated each should dance the next set with someone else. A few gentlemen lingered nearby, poised to approach her for a turn on the dance floor, but His Grace beckoned her to his side before they could.

“Come,” he said, settling heavily into a simple chair too small for his large frame. The other guests cleared a respectable space around them. “Sit beside me. I’m getting too old to dance.”

“Or too foxed,” she said drily.

He barked a laugh. “Girl, you are your mother’s daughter.”

“Am I?” She knew so little about her mother. “Why did you never remarry?”

“I loved that woman. It’s the only thing that made her constant nagging bearable.” He swallowed a good portion of his drink. “I wouldn’t have found another woman half so fine.”

Bella looked in the deep lines of her father’s face, the bleary eyes and broken blood vessels in his cheeks an overt testament to years of overindulgence. She felt the same tug of longing she always felt in those rare moments she was in her father’s presence. “What was she like?”

“Very like you, with the same fire and beauty.” Glassy eyes assessed her. “You remind me of her.”

Her parents had been a love match? She’d never known that. It pressed home how little she knew about them. “You loved her.”

“I did, very much. Each time I visited you, it brought the pain of her loss back again.” He held up his glass. “Drink helped, but not much.”

Emotion swelled in her chest. Her father had loved her mother. So much so, that any reminder of his wife had pained him. “Yet you forced my marriage to Sebastian. You did not allow me to find a love match.”

“Balderdash. I’ve seen the way the two of you look at each other.” He chuckled. “It took you long enough. For a while there, I feared I’d miscalculated.”

“Miscalculated?” Emotion closing her throat, she looked unseeing to the swirling blurs of color on the dance floor. “Losing a fortune at cards hardly required a clever stratagem on your part.”

He guffawed. “I had other means of settling the debt. Sebastian happened to be the most expedient.” He finished off his drink. A footman instantly appeared with a replacement. “Even then, your husband had a reputation for his clever mind and firmness of character.”

She searched his face. “Are you suggesting that you purposely chose Sebastian for me?”

“He has four brothers. His father tried to get me to take any one of the others. I refused.”

Breathlessness assaulted her. “Why?”

He shifted heavily in his seat. “Fortune hunters were already lining up for you. I selected a gentleman who would treat my daughter with care while also overseeing the dukedom with a clever hand.”

“Perhaps too clever a hand.”

“What are you getting at?” He peered at her with bloodshot eyes. “Speak plainly girl.”

“You give him complete control over Traherne funds.”

“Yes. I trust him implicitly.”

“Do you not worry he might avail himself to more of the ducal coffers than he should?”

He frowned at her. “Why would he do that? After my demise, he’ll have access to it all anyway. Whatever he amasses goes to his offspring, who will also be your children. Any way you look at it, it all stays within the family.” He nodded. “Fortunate thing it was that he married you.”

“Indeed.” The funny thing was, she was beginning to feel lucky to be bound to Sebastian.

“I’d moved heaven and earth to make you my legitimate heir,” the duke went on. “Your future needed to be assured even if I died before you reached your majority.”

Her mind whirled into light-headedness, shaking loose everything she’d always believed about her father. The duke hadn’t been absent and careless. At least not totally. He’d wanted to secure her future and keep her safe.

They were silent for a moment, both with their eyes on the dancers. “Are you content with Sebastian?” he asked.

The wanton part of her certainly was, so much so that it frightened her. “We are still learning to…accommodate each other.”

“Excellent. He saved my arse, Sebastian did.”

“How so?”

“We were in the direst of straits when you married. Without Sebastian’s good sense, we’d have been forced to sell off everything that wasn’t not entailed.”

“But…I thought that as my husband he takes an allowance from Traherne coffers.”

“Coffers he helped fill to overflowing.”

“Oh.” And was now apparently helping to unfill? What a paradox her husband was. Was it possible Sebastian was taking the money because he felt entitled to it?

“Not that he is in need of an allowance.” He barked a gruff laugh. “His own personal fortune likely rivals mine now. And on top of that, he’ll receive a generous settlement from the estate once you give birth to an heir.”

“He will? How generous?”

“It’s in the original marriage contract.” His attention was diverted by Orford’s approach. “Ah, here’s your cousin.”

Orford approached with a bow for the duke. “Your Grace.”

“Come to take my girl for turn about the dance floor, Orford?”

“With Your Grace’s leave.”

“You have it.” The duke pushed up from his chair with considerable effort. “I’m off to the cards room.” He shuffled off without a parting word to her. For once, instead of feeling wounded and abandoned, Bella mostly felt bemused. That was the longest conversation she could remember having with her father. And the most enlightening.

She fell into the routine of the party. Dancing with Orford and a number of other gentlemen, and engaging in polite chatter with the ladies in between sets. It relieved her to have a chance to mingle with Willa and Charlotte. When their husbands came to claim them, she made for the refreshment room hoping for a moment alone before another gentlemen approached her to partner for the next dance.

“The absent wife returns.”

She turned to find Jacintha Belfield leaning against the door frame. She recalled meeting the countess at Lady Claymont’s musicale. This was the woman Sebastian had avoided that evening. “Lady Hawke.”

Languid, pale eyes assessed her, lingering over her features. “So you are Sebastian’s wife.”

She straightened. “I am.”

Lady Hawke pushed off the wall and prowled toward her. She was a lovely woman with blond hair to complement those silvery eyes. Physically Bella might be considered the greater beauty, but Lady Hawke radiated an unnerving sexual confidence. “No longer the chubby little girl he was forced to marry so long ago.”

“So it would seem.” The hair on Bella’s arms stood on edge. Most of the guests here were not privy to the details of their long-ago nuptials. “Are you well acquainted with my husband?”

“Intimately acquainted, since well before your rather…unexpected nuptials.”