Beauty and the Wolf (15 page)

She didn’t reply.

“I’ll do it for you. A ball will show all of London Society that I’ve received you with open arms—to dispel your current reputation. It will also be a send-off to my mother. An announcement as it were, telling the world that soon she will be living in London.”

Isabella took in a breath. “Helena agreed to leave here?”

“Not yet. But she will when I discuss it with her.” He continued to hold her hand and a thrill raced along her skin.

“I’ve heard that Helena is uneasy in the presence of a large group,” Isabella said, putting a hand to the bandage on her forehead.

Draven gave her a mischievous wink. “All the more reason to throw a party.”

“I don’t think I’m ready for something like that.”

“Come now. Aren’t we supposed to be curing you of your serious ways? Besides, a party shall be an excuse to spoil you. You deserve a dress made from the finest material in England. I am picturing you in gold.”

She finally smiled.

“I think a gathering is just what we need in this house—to take our minds off the recent chain of events,” Draven went on.

“And the details of this celebration . . . ?” she asked, giving in.

“It will be a ball grander than any before it. With mountains of flowers, oceans of candles, and rivers of champagne. It will be the reception we never had the chance to indulge in.”

“Our wedding celebration
was
rather pathetic.”

“Thanks to me.” Draven smiled sheepishly.

“We’ve been married for over two years,” Isabella said. “Is it proper to throw a party like this?”

“‘Proper’ is a notion I threw out the window long ago.”

Isabella let out a laugh. “Said like a nobleman with the means to scoff at convention.” She paused. “Very well. Have your party. I would protest more, but I suspect you’ll do what you want anyhow.”

“You know me too well.”

“Shall we tell Helena?”

“Let’s get you inside so you can rest some more,” Draven instructed. “I will inform her about the ball, among other things.”

Draven pulled a chair up beside his stepmother while she was eating her nuncheon. When he told her of his plan, Helena met the news with an open mouth.

“After this celebration,” he explained further, “I’ll have Alice accompany you to the Mayfair house. Once you’ve established yourself, you must hire a new staff.”

“Why are you asking me to leave now, Draven?” she said.

“If I have any chance of keeping Isabella as a wife, I must do all I can to convince her to stay. That includes allowing her the privacy she deserves in her own household.”

“Just say the words.” Helena scowled. “You’d be happy if you never saw me again.”

Draven answered her by crossing his arms defiantly.

“Very well. I’m not an invalid,” she retorted. “I’ll be perfectly capable of taking care of myself in London. Furthermore, I do not wish to remain where I am not wanted. As for this frivolous celebration, you must keep the guest list to those I insist on inviting.”

“You are agreeing?”

She offered him her most ruthless smile. “I would have left long ago. But you never asked.”

Draven’s face turned as red as a ripe cherry.

After his stepmother took a sip of her Earl Grey tea, she stood and placed her napkin on her chair. “If you’ll excuse me, I have correspondence to read. I’ll be in my room.”

Draven stayed in his seat after Helena left, pondering his next move. He had one more thing to do in his attempt to permanently capture Isabella’s heart. And it meant searching the entire house on his own.

I
sabella climbed the main staircase to the second floor.

Nine days had passed since her ordeal in the secret passageway. Though it had been a horrendous affair, something positive had come from it: she’d gotten a glimpse of Draven’s attentive side.

He had spent nearly every hour of the day with her lately. Fussing over her. Entertaining her. And he’d been nothing but kind and docile.

With her head buried in a book, Isabella continued along the corridor. She felt a hand on her shoulder. Wheeling around, she stared into Draven’s face. Bright-eyed and unusually enthusiastic, he had his black hair tucked back at the nape while his freshly shaved face gleamed like a swatch of silk.

As dashing as he appeared, Isabella was mostly struck by the clarity he emanated—as if any signs of his madness had completely vanished.

He took her hand and led her into her chambers without saying a word. After he directed her to the upholstered window bench, they sat. She breathed in whiffs of his toilette water and leaned against him, as excited as a schoolgirl.

Draven said nothing as he caressed her hand. When Isabella opened her mouth to speak, he stopped her by placing a single finger to her lips.

She studied the expression in his ebony eyes. There was something decidedly different about him today. It was a keen sense of purpose she had never seen in him before.

“What is it?” she asked.

“I found your amulet.”

Her shoulders rose. “What did you say?”

“Your amulet. I’ve found it. And you’ll never guess where it was.”

“Where?”

Unclenching his strong jaw, Draven plunged into his story. “First let me say that I was more than a little upset when your father accused me of stealing your necklace. Besides the fact that you claimed it has no real monetary value, I would never take something from you that holds a sentimental place in your heart.”

Isabella eyed him skeptically, yet nothing but genuine concern stared back at her.

“I was determined to locate it for you,” he said. “I searched this household from top to bottom by taking out drawers, moving furniture. I even checked inside pockets of clothing that didn’t belong to me.”

“And?” An anxious lump blocked Isabella’s throat.

He looked at her from the corner of his eye, as if it would soften his next words. “I found it in your father’s room.”

She sat in silence for a moment, completely stunned. “What?”

“I know it sounds preposterous, but it was there, in his bedside table drawer, plain as day. And now,” he said as if he were at odds, “I’m returning it to you.”

Flabbergasted, Isabella watched as he withdrew the amulet from his waistcoat pocket. For a moment, the necklace’s stone glimmered in the air before he draped it across her bosom and clasped it behind her neck.

She touched the lapis. Its surface felt familiar and comforting. “When did you search my father’s suite?”

“When he went into town early this morning.” He paused. “Isabella, I’m very sorry to be the bearer of this sort of news.”

“But there must be some sort of logical explanation for the amulet being there! Maybe my father found it earlier but hadn’t gotten around to telling me yet.”

“Perhaps,” Draven said. He took her hand and traced the fine veins on its surface.

She leaned against him. “Do you think I should confront my father?”

He shook his head. “Let’s allow him the benefit of the doubt. If he gives up his search of the amulet, we’ll know he’s hiding something.”

“I don’t understand why he’d steal it in the first place.”

“Has your father ever asked you to return the amulet to him?”

Isabella thought for a moment. “Just after he arrived here, he offered to take it and have it cleaned and restored.”

“What was your answer?”

“I told him I preferred it exactly how it was.”

“Well, I suppose it’s anyone’s guess as to why he confiscated it.” Draven paused. “Bella, I know you love your father. And I know how relieved you were when you brought him back home after his accident. But I suspect he may be suffering from dementia based on amnesia. I’ve read a great deal about it in a medical journal written by a doctor in London.”

“Amnesia?” She squeezed his hand for stability.

“Yes. The physician’s name is Nicholas Van Sant. After conducting a barrage of interviews and countless exams, this doctor concluded that a severe blow to the head can erase one’s memory and alter one’s personality drastically.”

“Papa has seemed quite different to me,” she admitted. “He’s lost sections of his memory and I never remember him being so stern. On the other hand, there are times when he is exactly as I recall.”

“It’s not your father’s fault,” Draven said. “I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve secured an appointment for you with Dr. Van Sant. During your meeting, you may ask any question you like. Perhaps you’ll learn how to help your father. However, keeping your appointment will mean traveling to London for a day or two.”

Isabella smiled and overlapped his hand with her free one. “Thank you so much.”

He frowned. “Just promise me you shall return.”

She smiled. “I shall return to tell you what Dr. Van Sant said.”

“This must be very difficult for you.”

Draven had no idea just how hard it was for Isabella. But a bright spot shone this day. The fact that he had hunted for something so precious to her while showing real concern for her father was exhilarating. “You searched this entire house for my amulet?” she asked. “You did that for me?”

His hot stare met hers and the fortress she’d constructed around her emotions began to crumble one brick at a time.

“I’d do anything for you, Isabella,” he whispered.

She snuggled into the curve of her chest and sighed. “Draven?”

“Hmm?”

“May I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

She sat up and looked at him. “I’m learning to trust you again, so there is something I must know. Promise not to get angry?”

He reached up and stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. “Ask me anything.”

“Was it you spying on me during my bath? When I first arrived?”

“No.” He smiled forlornly. “I told you, it was probably a pubescent hall boy.”

Strangely, she believed him. “I want to ask you something else.”

“Of course.”

“The first night I was in your bed, when I said I cared for you deeply. Why did that statement provoke such violence?”

Draven’s expression dimmed. “All my life, I’ve never considered the feelings of others. Therefore, I feel as though I don’t deserve to be cared about.”

“Everyone deserves to be loved,” she said. “But you haven’t felt that in your life, have you?”

To Isabella’s surprise, he knelt before her. She traced the outline of his diamond-shaped face with her fingertips.

“Only two people have ever shown me love,” he said. “And to them I am forever grateful.”

“Who are they?”

“My father and . . . you.”

Her eyes misted over at his admission. “I showed you love, but then I refused to help you, didn’t I?”

Draven dropped his stare from hers and hung his head. “You’re not to blame. I asked more of you than most people would ever agree to.”

“It’s odd,” she murmured. “I feel as if something led me here—to be with you and help you. I’m afraid I can’t resist you.”

Concern lit his dark eyes. “Maybe the power of the amulet is the force behind that attraction.”

“No. What I feel is real.” She paused. “Draven, we will find a way out of this. We have to.”

“Thank God I found you, Isabella.” He rose up and caught her mouth with a scorching kiss. His touch warmed her like a blanket on a frigid night and she felt as if she were truly home. A surge of joy shot through her. At that moment, nothing else seemed to matter. Not the attack on Helena. Not her father’s mysterious behavior. Not even Draven’s violent personality. As she melted against him, all that was important was her vow to stand by him—despite the consequences.

Draven wrapped her in his protective embrace and murmured to her between tender kisses, “My God, how I’ve longed to touch you while you recuperated. I adore everything about you, Isabella. Let me pleasure you.”

Before she could respond, his mouth was on hers and his hand was drawing up her skirt. His fingers teased the curve of her ankle bone beneath her petticoat. He removed her shoe and stroked his fingers along the delicate bones of her foot. His hand made its way up her thigh and the lightness of his touch made her entire body quake. Gently, slowly, Draven untied the lace fastening of her pantalets and peeled away her stockings, leaving nothing but cool, bare skin beneath her dress.

Wearing the sultriest of expressions, he urged her back against the windowpanes and lifted her hem to one side. Draven brushed her mouth with a kiss before he disappeared to work his magic between her parted legs.

At first, his tongue felt like an airy feather against her anxious core. To her delight, he teased and licked the outer folds of her womanhood with quick, naughty flicks. Despite her best efforts to stay still, Isabella wiggled and shifted against the slickness that escaped. Surprised at her own aggressiveness, she fisted his hair and encouraged him to her pulsating center. With just the right pressure, Draven tugged and lapped and sucked at her sensitive nub. After moments of insane anticipation, he brought her to the top of a pulsating crest.

Purring like a spoiled cat, she raised her hand against the steamed windowpane. They hadn’t made love, but Draven didn’t seem to mind. Rather, he appeared content with her satisfaction. In a gallant motion, he brought her up to a sitting position.

“You, sir, are very talented at that,” she said.

He grinned as he sat down beside her and nuzzled her neck. “And you, my fair lady, are a most attractive subject on which to perfect my talent.”

They sat side by side for a while, listening to the rain fall. “If we are ever parted, no other man could ever measure up to you.” Isabella sighed.

Draven encouraged her chin upward so that she could lock eyes with him. “No man shall
ever
touch you, my Bella. And you shall never be rid of me unless it is over my dead body.” He studied her with those intense, obsidian eyes. “I love you.”

Her heart kicked inside her chest. She had longed to hear those words since the day she had agreed to marry Draven. What started off as a marriage of convenience had finally richened into a union of true feeling. For her, the words he had just spoken completed an essential circle.

Happy and content, Isabella curled against his muscular body. “I love you too.”

He drew her closer. “I will be a proud husband tomorrow night at the ball.”

She smiled as they sat in a comfortable silence. Gradually, her eyes dropped to the soft lull of the rain and her mind started to drift along a wave of contentment. That is, until a horrible thought struck her. According to the Egyptian prophecy, she was doomed to kill the man she loved—once they became lovers.