Scandalous Liaisons (8 page)

“I was cutting it for you,” he said hoarsely.

“Keep it for me,” she whispered, meeting his intense gaze. “When we stand in crowded ballrooms, I will see your queue and know that you are mine. I will be reminded of how wild you are, how you struggle against the bonds that hold you, and I will think to myself, ‘He chose the bonds that bound him to me.’ And I will be happy.”

Her hands stroked up the rippled expanse of his torso and came to rest over his heart. It beat beneath her palm in a panicked rhythm.

“God, Olivia,” he breathed in a strangled whisper. “Do you have any idea what you do to me?”

Stepping backward, she grabbed his hand and tugged him toward the bed. “We have a few hours left. Why don’t you show me?”

 

Sebastian looked out over the smelly, sooty mess that was the London wharf and, despite his best efforts, felt his stomach tie up in knots. He’d fled England the day after Edmund died and had never returned, had never wanted to, still didn’t.

He sighed, taking comfort in Olivia. He would not be alone in this. His wife was thoroughly consummate in the social arts.

“Good God!” she cried from behind him.

Frowning, he spun on his heel. “What is it, love?”

Olivia stood just outside the stairway, resplendent in a blue silk damask gown with lace-edged bodice and sleeves. A shiver of awareness flowed through him, bright and insistent.

Her hand was pressed to her heart. “You . . . good grief . . .” She shook her head slowly. “Damn, you stopped my heart for a moment.”

“Don’t swear,” he admonished with a roll of his eyes.

His wife had spent far too many days at sea with foul-mouthed sailors, which was understandable considering her father’s trade. While he admonished her regularly, in truth he found her colorful speech rather charming. The small foible made her seem less perfect and more real, more his. After all, he was a man of overwhelmingly numerous faults.

He waited patiently for her to explain the cause of her distress. Then Sebastian noted the feminine appreciation that lit her eyes and the smile that curved her lush mouth. In fact, now that he was paying attention, he had to admit she looked completely besotted.
With him
. He grinned. “I take it you approve of my attire.”

Olivia glided toward him, all graceful elegance and luscious woman. “You look quite dashing. Magnificent, actually.”

She pressed herself against him, heedless of the sailors who swarmed the deck and the pedestrians who moved along the crowded wharf. Her hands slid along the lapels of his fine wool coat, down the intricately embroidered silk of his waistcoat, over the bulge of his cock in his snug breeches, and around to the curve of his ass. Thankfully, her wandering touch was hidden from view by his long coat.

“You, my gorgeous pirate, polish up beautifully.” With a firm grip on his hips, she tugged herself toward him, smiling wickedly. “Your cock is hard. Do you never tire of bedsport, Captain Phoenix?”

Cupping the curve of her neck, he pressed an ardent kiss to her forehead. “Impossible with a wife as lusty as mine.”

He frowned at her use of his alias, reminded of a task he had set for himself and never accomplished. “Wait for me a moment, sweet. I must speak with the captain.”

She looked up at him curiously, but did as he asked without question.

It took only a moment to locate the man he sought. “Captain, did you have the opportunity to speak with your crew about my identity?”

The captain’s smile peeked out from his bushy gray beard. “Aye, milord, but as I tried to tell you, the men are loyal to Lady Merrick. We’ve all been with ’er father, Mr. Lambert, since she was a babe. As far as pirates go, yer crew were the only ones what could catch us. You kept the damage to a minimum, and ye didn’t ’urt the lass even before you knew she was yer wife. The men on this ship can respect that.”

Sebastian nodded, relieved.

A sharp screech from the quay and his name shouted in Olivia’s angry voice had him running toward the gangplank. With a quick eye, he took in the rigid set of her spine, the reticule swinging from her fist, and the finely dressed man who covered his face with his hands, cursing foully. It was easy to deduce that she’d been accosted in some manner she’d found offensive and fought back, as she was wont to do.

Filled with furious possessiveness, Sebastian launched himself at the man, no questions asked. Two quick punches, one to the face and the other to the diaphragm, had the lecher moaning in misery.

Satisfied, Sebastian leapt to his feet, straightening his waistcoat, and went to his wife. “What happened?” he asked gently, visually searching for any evidence of injury or insult to her person. Olivia’s face was frighteningly pale.

“That man—” she stabbed a finger at her assailant, “—wants a trip to Bedlam! He
kissed
me, then called me his
wife
!”

Sebastian shot a curious glance at the man on the ground and gasped. Now that his face was no longer hidden, the visage was startlingly familiar. “Bloody hell, Carr! What the devil are you doing assaulting my wife?”

“You know him?” Olivia asked in astonishment as Sebastian helped Carr to his feet.

“Unfortunately, yes,” he muttered. “This deranged man is Carr Blake, my cousin.”

Carr glanced at Sebastian and then Olivia with watering eyes. “Damnation, Merrick! What are you doing here?”

Sebastian arched a brow. “I am escorting my wife to our home. What are
you
doing here? And kissing my wife, for Christ’s sake! Are you mad?”

Carr swallowed hard.

Sebastian lifted his gaze and spied the waiting carriage. The equipage was new, not one he recognized, but the crest emblazoned on the door was his. “You’ve been using my carriage?”

Olivia placed her hand on his arm. “He called me his wife,” she choked out. “He came in your equipage.”

Sebastian shot a look at her, saw her blanched features, and felt his mouth fall open as the pieces fell into place. “Oh, hell!” He turned to Carr, his nails digging into his palms as he resisted the urge to throttle his relative. “Tell me, cousin, that you are not here pretending to be me.”

Carr winced a split second before Sebastian’s fist knocked him into oblivion.

Olivia said nothing during the ride to Dunsmore House. She couldn’t have managed speech even if she’d desired to, what with her mouth being dry as the desert and her throat clenched shut with apprehension. Her discomfort only worsened as the carriage rolled to a halt in front of the imposing manse.

Sebastian vaulted down and stared up at the elegant façade. “Remain here.”

“No,” she argued. “I’m coming with you. You are not facing your father alone.”

He looked over his shoulder. “I don’t want you anywhere near him!”

“I don’t want you anywhere near him either, but you insisted we come.” She lifted her chin. “Go in there without me, and I’ll follow you, I vow.”

Sebastian’s face was grim as he assisted her down. He glanced at the footman. “Wait here,” he ordered.

Olivia shivered at her husband’s starkly austere features. He led her inside, ignoring the horrified butler. They ascended the stairs, heading directly to the study, where masculine voices could be heard. His hand at the small of her back was firm and steady, despite the inner turmoil she sensed. She’d never seen him in such a mood, something akin to murderous rage, and she realized at that moment what had prompted his fierce reputation.

They entered the room, again without knocking, and Olivia paused, frozen on the threshold, shocked to find her father in a wingback chair in front of the fire. Sitting opposite him was a man who looked remarkably like Sebastian and nothing like the decrepit, miserly man she had pictured in her mind.

Jack Lambert stood, his golden hair glinting in the light of the fire. “Livy, sweet!” He came to her and kissed both of her cheeks. “You’re late, by weeks. I was worried sick. Agents at the shipping office have kept watch for the
Seawitch
. Your husband made haste to retrieve you when word came that she’d put into port.” He looked past her to Sebastian, eyeing him speculatively. “Where is Lord Merrick? And who is this gentleman?”

Sebastian clasped her father’s outstretched hand and dipped his head respectfully.

Olivia shot a scathing glance at the marquess. “Lord Merrick, may I present my father, Jack Lambert. Father, this is Lord Merrick.”

Her father scowled. “The devil you say!”

“You’ve been deceived,” Sebastian explained softly.

Her father turned to the marquess, frowning in obvious confusion.

Lord Dunsmore rose from his chair with arrogant indifference. He was as tall as his son, but slender and elegant in his build. He was almost frightening, with his cruel mouth and harshly lined eyes. “Sebastian,” he drawled. “I see your penchant for ruining the best-laid plans is still in evidence.”

Sebastian’s arm stiffened under Olivia’s fingertips.

Her father’s face turned a mottled red. “Explain yourself, Dunsmore!”

The marquess arched a sardonic brow, the depths of his eyes showing no emotion at seeing the son who had been absent for years. “I think I’ll leave the explanations to Merrick.”

Sebastian stood for a moment, his face an impassive mirror of his father’s as the two men stared each other down, the animosity between them palpable. Olivia tugged on his arm to draw his attention back to her father. He took a deep breath. “Mr. Lambert. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I thank you for the hand of your daughter, whom I treasure.”

Her father raked Sebastian with a more penetrating gaze. She knew what he saw—a tall, massively built male with the tan and muscles of a manual laborer. With the long hair and icy expression, Sebastian was intimidating.

“Are you satisfied with this union?” her father asked gruffly. “I was able to ascertain some of the character of the man I thought was the earl, but this man next to you is a stranger to me.”

She gave a tremulous smile. “I am most pleased, Father. Merrick has been wonderful.”

Her father shot her a skeptical glance. “I researched Sebastian Blake thoroughly before signing the marriage agreements. He was known to be a scapegrace in his youth, an incorrigible. But the man I met was polished and civilized.” Unspoken was the notion that Sebastian was none of those things, but she heard it nevertheless.

And so did her husband.

Olivia winced, her heart aching. She hugged Sebastian’s arm closer.

“We can procure an annulment, Livy,” her father persisted. “I want you to be happy.”

“No annulment,” she said firmly, feeling Sebastian’s body become taut as a bow.

“If I know my son,” the marquess drawled, “it is far too late for an annulment. Don’t whine, Lambert. You bought your daughter an earl, and she acquired one. No harm done.”

Olivia gasped at the insult, instantly reminded of how cruel the peerage could be to those they deemed beneath them. Her feelings meant nothing to this man.
She
meant nothing. To him, she was no more than a breeding mare and a fat purse. Despite her lifelong pursuit of indifference, she couldn’t deny that the marquess’s callousness stung.

Sebastian glanced at her. Attuned to her feelings by weeks of deep intimacy, he leapt to her defense.

“Damn you!” he snarled. “Were you that desperate for an heir to your precious title? To send Carr to my wife . . .” He took a step toward his father, who hadn’t the sense to move away. “I’d have killed you both if he’d touched her in my name. I’ve a mind to kill you anyway.”

“Sebastian, no!” Olivia cried as she saw his hands clench into fists. “He’s not worth it.”

The marquess dismissed his son’s fury with an imperious wave of his hand. “You had no knowledge you were even married. You showed no interest in the Dunsmore lands, the tenants, or your duty to the title. Something had to be done.”

Sebastian laughed, a hard, bitter sound. “Those are your responsibilities until you die.”

“You must learn your place!” Dunsmore barked. “Accustom yourself to your future duties, create issue.”

Sebastian shook his head. “Stay out of my life and my business. Stay away from my wife. I won’t tell you again.”

Her father reached for her. “Come, Olivia. We’re leaving.”

“She goes nowhere without me,” Sebastian warned without taking his eyes from his father. “You are welcome to stay in my home if you like, Mr. Lambert, but Olivia’s place is with her husband. With
me
.”

“I don’t even know you!” Jack bellowed. “How can I trust my daughter to your care?”

“Father!” she beseeched, alarmed at his vehemence. She had no wish to defy him, but Sebastian was her life now. She prayed she wouldn’t be forced to choose between the only two people who mattered. “Please!”

“You shall have plenty of opportunity to become acquainted with me,” Sebastian said as he returned to her side and reclaimed her arm in an obvious declaration of possession. “My father is correct. It is far too late for an annulment.” His implication was clear—she’d been compromised.