The Duke's Divorce (The Reluctant Grooms Series Volume IV) (12 page)

What could she say? He left her alone all the
time. But she did not want to be alone with Stockton. Robert’s
warning about unscrupulous cads all those weeks ago burned in her
ears. Stockton was definitely one of those men she should
avoid.

“My husband….Forgive me, Lord Stockton, I
must insist I return to the ballroom now.” Fiona stepped back and
tried to remove her hand from his again. He held tight.

“Perhaps, I think, we should become better
acquainted.” Stockton took her lemonade, threw the cup over the
wall, grabbed her wrist, and pulled her to his chest. Before she
could blink, his lips mashed down on hers.

Locked in his embrace, with his mouth
covering hers, Fiona couldn’t scream. She struggled to break free,
but the man was too strong. Her very first kiss and it was from
this man
. The horror of it made her sick to her stomach. She
would
not
be assaulted in such a manner. She twisted in his
grasp and unloosed one hand. She pulled it back to slap his face,
swung, and connected with…nothing. Where had he gone?

The shock and elation of seeing Robert
championing her, quickly turned to panic as Robert punched him
repeatedly. Stockton tried to retaliate in kind, but gave up when
his left eye closed and he put up both arms to ward off any more of
Robert’s attack. Blood ran down Stockton’s face, and the sound of
Robert’s fist striking him was repugnant. Could Robert be breaking
bones? He appeared enraged enough to pummel the man to death. Oh
dear God, she had to stop him.

Fiona ran toward her husband and pulled on
his arm. “Robert! Stop! You must stop!”

He glowered at her, his closed fist ready to
take another swing. “Is
this
whom you would choose over
me?”

She snorted. “Do not be daft, you silly sod.
If you do not stop hitting him, he will die and you shall be hanged
for killing a Peer. Tell me, is he worth it?” Fiona pushed against
Robert’s chest, forcing him to take a step back.

Robert let go of Stockton who sagged against
the wall covering his face with his hands. He moaned, but did not
rise.

Fiona stood in front of Robert, one hand
still on his chest. He remained rigid, his breathing forced and
labored, and his eyes did not seem to focus. Without thinking, she
began to wipe the blood from his shirt. She only managed to make
more of a mess. Her gloves were stained and Robert’s shirt had dark
smears. She wondered how they would return to the ballroom in such
a state. “Ach! Now look at what you’ve made me do.”

Robert grabbed her by her elbows. “What the
hell were you doing out here with him?” he growled.

“I was not doing anything except sipping my
lemonade.” Fiona’s voice rose. “
He
was the one who accosted
me.”

“I told you about this sort of thing, Fiona.
I told you what would happen.” Robert turned away from her and
flexed the hand with which he had punched Stockton.

Fiona walked to him and gently took his
hand.

“Ow! What are you doing?” He snatched his
hand away.

“I should like to inspect it to make sure
none of this blood is yours. Now be still.” She peeled off her
gloves and lightly ran her bare fingertips over his bloody
knuckles.

Robert settled against her ministrations. His
breathing slowed and his posture relaxed.

“It seems you did not break the skin, but you
shall have a mighty bruise in the morning,” she said and looked up
into his face. His eyes were black discs as they bore into
hers.

“Fiona, I….” Robert brought his other hand to
rest on her cheek.

Fiona’s stomach did a flip-flop. She pressed
her cheek into her husband’s palm and closed her eyes. She felt his
breath fan her lips and waited.

“What the bloody hell is going on out here?
Robert, Fiona, are you all right?”

Fiona’s eyes snapped open and Robert dropped
his hand.

William stood two feet away. Behind him, half
the guests from the ballroom.

A woman screamed as Stockton rose unsteadily
from his position on the wall. Covered in blood, Gredlow and
Ferring helped him away. Penny and Amanda rushed to Fiona’s side.
Lord Berringbourne pushed his way through the crowd, took in the
incident, and declared this was the best ball his wife had ever
given. People streamed from the terrace doors to take in the
aftermath of the confrontation and be the first to break the
scandal to those who had not attended.

William stepped next to Robert. “I told you,
you would not be able to help yourself when a beautiful woman is
involved.”

Robert wanted to slap the smirk off his
cousin’s face. “Well, now what am I to do? I’ve literally made a
bloody mess of the whole night.”

“Take your wife and your mother home. Send
flowers to Lady Berringbourne on the morrow with a note of sincere
apology. There is nothing more you can do.”

“What about the scandal?” It was pointless to
think he wouldn’t read about it in the paper the next day.

“Let the tale settle and go about your
business. I’m sure something else will happen to surpass this in
the rumor mill.” William placed his hand on Robert’s shoulder. “Why
should you be any different than the rest of us? Come now cousin,
you said yourself this was bound to happen.”

“Yes, but I never thought it would happen on
Fiona’s very first night in Society.” He glanced at his wife.
Penny’s arm lay about Fiona’s waist, holding her up. Fiona shook,
her face deathly pale. She looked ready to faint.

Robert pushed through the collecting crowd
around his wife. He took her arm and she turned into his chest,
sobbing.

“I’m so sorry, my lord. I never meant to
cause any of this to happen.”

How could she yell at him one second, and
fall apart in the next? He gathered his wife into his arms and drew
her with him to the dining room. He found a chair and deposited her
gently into it. Grabbing a glass of lemonade from the refreshment
table, he placed it in her hands.

“Drink this.”

Fiona clasped the cup, took a few sips, but
spilled most of it on her gown.

“Come, we must away now,” Robert said softly.
“I should like to get you home. You’ve had a very bad fright.” He
stood.

Fiona remained in the chair. A tear ran down
her cheek.

He knelt beside her. “What is it, Fiona?”

“I was so looking forward to waltzing with
you again.”

Robert smiled and kissed her on the forehead.
“We have plenty more balls to attend, and we shall waltz at all of
them.

“No, we cannot. I shall never attend another
ball. I could not bear the thought of something happening to you
because of me.”

Robert closed his eyes. The little fool
worried about
him
. “Come Fiona, let us go home.”

He scooped her up like a sleepy child and she
laid her head against his shoulder. They walked into the hall,
where he found his mother waited.

“How is she?”

“Shaken badly, but she will be fine,” Robert
said.

“Well, then, let us get her home.”

They walked through the Berringbourne mansion
without stopping to speak to anyone, although friends and onlookers
gawked at the small procession.

Outside, William waited by the carriage. “I
took the liberty,” he said.

“Thank you,” Robert said as William helped
his mother ascend the steps.

Robert climbed into the carriage and held
Fiona on his lap. For all her fiery ways and spirited temperament,
she was still just a young woman who had no idea of the ways of the
world. He placed a gentle kiss on her forehead.

“I did not encourage him, my lord,” Fiona
whispered. “I swear by all that is Holy. I only went out to find
some fresh air and sip my lemonade.”

“I know, Fiona, I know. Do not worry. Hush
now. Try to relax.”

They reached Cantin House and Robert carried
her through the door Edwards held open.

“Brandy, Edwards, upstairs in Fiona’s
chamber.” Robert held her close and walked up the stairs.

In her bedchamber, Robert dismissed Merry who
slept in the chair by the fire. He laid Fiona gently on the bed and
she looked at him questioningly. Robert removed his coat and cravat
as Edwards tiptoed into the room with the brandy, and left without
a sound.

“First we must get you out of this gown,”
Robert said. “And then you need to drink the brandy. Can you sit up
for me?”

Fiona slid off the bed and stood. Robert
undid the buttons at her back and slipped the gown off her
shoulders to the floor. He drew in a sharp breath as he caught
sight of her breasts through the filmy chemise. His hand reached to
touch one and he snatched it back. Grinding his teeth, he undid the
laces from her underskirts and pushed them down, where they landed
on top of the wretched gown that started this travesty of an
evening.

“Sit and I will take off your slippers,” he
said hoarsely.

She sat on the edge of the bed and Robert
took off her shoes. When his hands reached up for her stockings,
Fiona trembled. Slowly, his hands eased up her legs until they
reached her thighs. His fingers slipped inside her stockings and
Fiona caught her breath. As he slid the stockings to her ankles, he
looked up. Her eyes were wide as his hands caressed her legs.

“Climb into bed.” He held the covers and she
slid under them.

“Here.” Robert handed her the brandy. “Drink
this.” She took a long sip. “Move just a little and I will undo
your hair.” Robert sat behind her on the bed and took the pins from
her hair. Slowly, the black mass fell and lay about her shoulders.
Drawing his fingers through her tresses, he sniffed. He couldn’t
distinguish the exact scent, but the Heavenly aroma reminded him of
the gardens at Wakefield. Robert massaged her temples, and then
worked his way down to her shoulders.

Fiona shuddered down the last of the brandy,
the empty glass lolling in her fingers. Robert took it from her and
set it on the night table. He slipped out from behind her and
pressed her gently to lie against the pillows. She looked at him
with half-closed lids.

“Robert, may I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“Tonight, with Stockton, was the first time I
have ever been kissed. I do not wish to have to have that memory
for the rest of my life. Would you kiss me to replace it?”

Did she even know what she asked of him?
Robert clenched his hands and drew in a sharp breath.

Fiona turned her head and closed her eyes. A
tear slipped down her cheek.

Robert walked to the other side of the bed
and lay down beside her. Fiona startled and opened her eyes wide.
He rested one elbow on the pillow, his free hand pushing the hair
back from her face

“I’m sorry Stockton was your first.” He
struggled to keep his voice even, control the anger he still felt,
not only at Stockton, but also at his own stupidity leaving Fiona
alone all night. If he had remained by her side, as a new husband
ought, they wouldn’t be in the midst of a scandal, nor would he be
wrestling with such a simple request.

He leaned down and brushed his lips across
hers. They tasted sweet and soft, like an overripe peach. His
fingers brushed the curve of her cheek and he deepened the kiss.
Her hands found their way to his neck, her fingers pulling him
closer. Oh, yes, he would erase Stockton from every part of Fiona’s
memory.

Robert’s hand roamed down her arm, and found
her hip where he tightened his hold. Oh, to have his hands on her
whole body thus. Surprisingly, Fiona responded to his every move.
He rather enjoyed the art of kissing and several women had said
that he satisfied them in ways that sexual congress never had. His
lips found their way to her neck, and her earlobe seemed quite
delectable for nibbling. Fiona’s breathing faltered. When his lips
found hers again and pressed them open, she responded willingly. A
small fire built in his belly. Fiona had managed to undo his shirt,
her fingers playing in his chest hair. He burned where she touched
him.

Robert shifted his weight, brought his other
hand under her back, and lifted her closer to him. Her heat
consumed him and fanned the fire into a slow, methodical flame. His
hand at her hip encircled her back, and drew her closer still. She
clung to him, gripped his shoulder, as if she might fall. His hand
snaked down her back until it reached her backside and he cupped
her with strong fingers. Fiona moaned as his lips tickled her
neck.

“Oh, Fiona, what have you done?” he
mumbled.

His lips raked her throat and down her chest
seeking what he wanted to taste, just once. His tongue circled her
nipple and Fiona cried out.

“Oh, please.”

His lips sought her other breast. She was so
delicious, so ripe for the picking. He couldn’t get enough. Her
hips arched upward as his hand took the place of his mouth and his
lips sought hers once again.

“Robert, please,” she moaned.

He broke away from the kiss and Fiona opened
her eyes.

Robert gazed down at his wife. His wife. They
had been married one month today and he hadn’t really found the
urge to bed her. He’d kept her at arm’s length, where she belonged.
Until tonight. Seeing her in that gown, watching her laugh and
dance, conversing easily with his friends, had him completely
undone. And she
belonged
to him. But he’d never thought
seriously he would take her. It was really just a small fantasy –
like which horse to pick that would bring him the prize. What would
sex be like with Fiona?

In his whimsical flights of fancy, he never
imagined Fiona would respond to him with such passion. He could
feel her rising with every kiss, every caress, and when he kissed
her breasts, he thought she would leap off the bed. Who knew such
fire burned in her soul? Or could ignite one in him?