Simply Irresistible (8 page)

She dug her heels into his arse, urging him on, and he gave up all pretense of finesse and simply fucked her as hard as he could, losing himself within the welcoming confines of her body as she gradually accepted all of him.

“God . . .” He breathed out and came so suddenly it shocked him and left him lying on top of her like a landed fish. With one hand, he combed his fingers through her light brown hair, freeing it around her shoulders, and buried his face in its fragrant depths.

His Abby, his woman, with his scent all over her.

Her hand slid over his arse in a lazy circle and he rolled his hips, pushing himself deep again, reluctant to lose the connection. Easing himself slightly away, he released her from the prison of her gown and stays and drew her muslin shift over her head, leaving her just in her stockings and garters.

He drew her higher up on the bed and knelt between her spread thighs, bending to lavish soft kisses on her rounded breasts and the slight curve of her stomach, and then lower to her already swollen bud. She moved restlessly against the sheets as he slowly tongued her and then sucked her throbbing flesh into his mouth. It didn't take long before she was writhing against him and begging for release, which he gave her, his tongue deep inside her as she came.

He drew back again, simply for the pleasure of looking at her laid bare for him, her defenses down, her eyes locked on his as he tried to show her how much she meant to him and how much he'd missed her.

“Did you . . . fuck James and Mr. Hodges?” she asked.

“I damn well did not. When I saw them together and realized James was alive, I wanted to horsewhip the pair of them, but I knew they'd probably enjoy it too much.” He bent to kiss her nipple. “I did make Jason Ford come for me, but I didn't fuck him either.” He smiled. “It didn't feel right without you there.”

“I felt the same about Sara and Val. They offered to share their bed with me, but I didn't want to do that without you in it.”

Holding her gaze, he smoothed an unsteady hand down over his now erect shaft. “Then perhaps we should just focus on each other?” She opened her mouth and he touched his lips to her. “Humor me, Abby; just take my cock. We can talk about the rest of it later.”

This time he eased himself in slowly, holding back as he teased and played with her body, enjoying the sensation of seeing his stiff rod disappear inside her wet, swollen folds, stretching them wide. He fucked her with a steady rhythm, using the whole length of his cock to give her pleasure. Watching her face, watching her succumb to the glories of passion, was like coming home....

“Peter . . .” She gripped his arm and tried to lever herself up off the bed. “I want to come. I want . . .”

He held her where he wanted her and trailed one lazy finger down from her breasts to her clit. “Then come for me.”

She gasped as he pinched her clit and started to come in long, endless clenches around his cock.

“That's nice, Abby,” he murmured. “Do it again.” He thrust again and then held still, keeping her pinned to the bed as she shuddered into another climax. And then he couldn't watch anymore, couldn't be an observer when all he wanted was to be held within the circle of her arms and joined with her in passion.

 

 

Much later, he got out of bed to bank the fire and then returned to draw the covers over both of them. Abby stirred in her sleep and turned to lie against his chest, one hand over his heart and her bent knee across his legs. After his days in the brothel, he'd always hated feeling trapped in bed, but never with Abby. With her he felt . . . complete.

“I'm still going back to Beecham Hall tomorrow.”

“Of course you are.” He kept his voice low, reluctant to disrupt the sense of peace pervading him. “And I have to report in to Valentin at the shipping office.”

She raised herself up on one elbow to look down into his face, her hair falling in soft waves on his chest.

“Do you think James is right and that we should just accept that he is dead?”

“For all intents and purposes, he
is
dead. Legally, James Beecham no longer exists.”

“But we know differently.” She stroked the skin over his heart. “We know it
here
.”

“What do you fear, Abby?” he asked gently. “That he'll regret his choice and come back? Do you really think he would do that to Mr. Hodges, to you, to me and to Jamie?”

“But what if Mr. Hodges dies? What will he do then?”

I don't know.” He stared up at her. “I only know that he has given us all an opportunity to be free and to live the way we want to.” He reached up to brush a tear from her cheek. “Don't cry, please don't cry. I'll do whatever you want. I'll leave you, I'll stay with you and damn society; just tell me what you want.”

“I want you.”

“You
have
me.”

She swallowed hard. “But I'm not sure if I can marry you—yet.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Not unless you wish to revive all the old gossip. You need to remain a widow for at least a year. And maybe stay in half mourning for another two.”

She frowned so hard that he raised a finger to erase the line. “Peter, don't you want to marry me?”

“I want
you
. I've finally realized that's what's important—not the ceremony or the legal ties, just knowing you love me and that I can see you and love you and come home to you . . . is enough.”

To his amusement, she scowled even harder.

“There's no rush, Abby. We have the rest of our lives to decide whether we want to get married and keep James's secret safe for him forever.” He smiled up at her. “If we know we love each other, one day, when we're both certain, we can get married.”

He smoothed his hand down from her waist to her thigh but she shrugged it off.

“I hate it when you are being reasonable.”

“Only because you know I'm right.” He held her indignant gaze. “If I hadn't said it, you would've. Be honest now. You are the one who has the most to lose.”

She sighed. “James really isn't coming back, is he?”

“I don't think so, love. He told me quite vehemently that he would never be James Beecham again.”

“He said the same to me. I almost believed him.” She reached for his wandering hand and held on to it. “Will you ask me to marry you?”

He blinked at her. “Now?”

“Yes.”

He drew an unsteady breath. “Abigail, will you do me the great honor of becoming my wife?”

“Not yet.”

“Abby . . .”

“Ask me again when my year of mourning has ended.”

“And every year after that until you eventually say yes?”

“I don't think it will take too long.” She swallowed hard. “I just have to make peace with my conscience, and understand that what James did was a gift of love to all of us.”

Peter reached up and brought her down to him. “A gift of love is an excellent way of describing his actions. He did the best he could to live an honest life without destroying his family name or his son's prospects. That was rather brave of him, really.”

“I know. And very like him.”

He kissed her slowly and thoroughly and realized freedom came in many unexpected ways, and he would do everything in his power to enjoy every moment James had given him.

“I love you, Abby.”

“I know.” She sighed. “And I still hate it when you are right.”

He smothered a grin against her hair. Whatever happened in the future, he was sure of one thing: loving Abby gave him everything he had ever wanted.

 

 

“Valentin . . .”

Val looked over at Sara, who was sitting in the library with him, a book open on her knees. She wore a dark red gown, which was his favorite color on her, and the rubies he'd given her as a wedding present. He'd been anticipating stripping her out of her dress and making love to her while she wore only the jewels ever since dinner.

“What, my love?”

“You are up to something.”

He raised an eyebrow at her. “Why would you think that?”

“Because I saw your face when Peter and Abby came to tell you that they had decided to wait a few years to marry.”

He put down his pen. “It's not right, Sara. They deserve better.”

“I agree.” She hesitated. “I don't understand the necessity for the delay. Once Abby's year of mourning is completed, they could marry without anyone commenting at all.”

“Which begs the question as to what they are hiding.” Val stood up. “Would you object if I went out?”

She opened her eyes wide at him. “Not at all. As long as you promise to come home soon and not disappear off to Russia. Where are you going?”

“To see Mr. Hodges.”

“Do you know where he is lodged?”

“I sent one of my footmen to accompany Abigail when she met him that first morning.”

Sara smiled. “Oh, Valentin. You are always so clever.”

He went over to kiss her and lingered for longer than he had intended, regretting his inability to stay with every subtle stroke of her tongue against his. With a groan, he eased away.

“I have to see Hodges.”

“Then go.”

He bowed and backed out of the room, found the footman he required and was soon on his way to Hodges's coaching inn. He knew the man was due to sail out fairly soon and could only hope he was in time.

At the inn, after using his title to ensure instant obedience and silence, he found himself outside Mr. Hodges's door and knocked loudly.

“One moment.”

The voice wasn't Hodges's, but Val didn't care who it was as long as the door opened. He got his wish and stepped smartly inside, grabbing the startled manservant around the throat and slamming him against the wall. For a long moment he stared into the man's eyes, and suddenly everything made sense. He smiled.

“James. How lovely to see you. Don't speak. I don't care how you justify your current position. All I care about are Peter and Abby and making sure they achieve their hearts' desire.”

James opened and closed his mouth and then went still, his brown gaze fixed on Valentin.

“Now pack your things. You and I, and Mr. Hodges, if he chooses, are going to Scotland.”

Chapter 8

 

Beecham Hall was beautiful at this time of year. Abby took a deep breath and enjoyed the scent of burning wood and the dampness of the pine trees on the rise behind the main house. Three of James's dogs were out with her, running in haphazard patterns, chasing scents and smells and one another. Upstairs in the schoolroom, her son was being taught his first letters, and seemed thoroughly excited by his accomplishments.

Her new land agent was pleasant and well qualified, her staff were efficient and even her mother-in-law had mellowed since James's demise had left Abby in virtual control of the estate. If only Peter were here, life would be perfect. She pushed that melancholy thought aside and turned toward the house, observing the arrival of her mother-in-law's carriage from the dower house at the far end of the park.

With a sigh, she called the dogs and went back through the kitchens, leaving her muddy boots and damp cloak by the fire. She asked Cook to provide tea and refreshments and then went back up the stairs, smoothing down her hair as she prepared to meet the Dowager Lady Beecham. It wasn't her normal day for visiting, so something must have agitated her.

Abby fixed on a smile and entered the back parlor.

“My lady, how nice to see you.”

To her surprise, her mother-in-law was pacing the carpet, a newspaper rolled up in her hand. As soon as she saw Abby she started speaking.

“Why did you not tell me of this?
Why?
What were you thinking, besmirching the name of my dear departed
son
, dragging the Beecham name through the
courts
! How dare you!”

“I'm sorry, I don't know what you are talking about,” Abby managed.

“This!”
The dowager shoved the newspaper in Abby's face. She jabbed at a spot halfway down the closely written page.

Abby took the newspaper, found her reading glasses and sat down.

“The sudden death of Lord
B—cham
in the summer was tragic enough, but now legal documents have been discovered by this newspaper showing that just before his untimely demise, Lord B was
not in the West Indies as claimed
, but in
Scotland
, where he spent six weeks consorting with a lady
who was not his wife
. When Lady B discovered her husband with Mrs. C. W. she immediately petitioned for a
Scottish divorce
. Lord B returned to the West Indies with his lover and did not live long to enjoy his adulterous liaison—perhaps a timely message to all such breakers of the bonds of Holy Matrimony.”

Abby raised her head and stared at her enraged mother-in-law. “I have no idea what this means. I certainly didn't—”

“I have no wish to listen to your excuses, Abigail,” the dowager said coldly. “I just hope you are able to explain to your son one day why you branded his sainted dead father an
adulterer
.”

“I didn't—”

Helplessly, Abby watched her mother-in-law sweep out of the room, her head held high. She picked up the paper and reread the section about James and the divorce, and it still made no sense. She sat for a long while staring into space until she became aware of masculine voices in the hallway and the manic barking of the dogs.

The door burst open and Peter appeared with Valentin. Peter shoved his friend in front of Abby and shut the door. His normal calm manner was absent and his blue eyes glittered with rage.

“Tell her what you've done.”

Valentin bowed and removed his hat and gloves. “Good afternoon, Abigail. Are you well?”

“I don't know, Valentin. What
have
you done?”

“He's bloody well interfered again, that's what he's done. I—” Peter started, and Val held up his hand.

“I am quite willing to explain myself if you will permit, Peter?”

“Well, get on with it. You've told me twice, and I still don't understand it.”

Val took a seat opposite Abby and smiled at her. “I have something for you.” He took a packet of documents from his coat pocket. “These are all documents relating to your successful divorce petition against James.”

“But James is
dead.”

“Abigail, I know he isn't,” Val said gently. “I saw him at the inn.”

She absorbed that blow without blinking. “And what did you do then?”

“I persuaded him and Mr. Hodges to accompany me to Scotland.”

Abby started to speak, and he held up his hand.

“Perhaps you might allow me to explain from the beginning? If you recall, James wrote to me several months ago and asked my advice about legally separating from you. I gave him the information about the English legal system that I had available, and he was most unimpressed. Later it came to my notice that there might be another way to secure a divorce for you, so I set . . . certain things in motion.”

Abby stared at him. “What things?”

“Under Scottish law, it is possible for a woman to divorce her husband on the grounds of his adultery. He has to be witnessed living in sin with another woman for at least six weeks in Scotland to establish residency. At that point, if he is discovered by his wife, she has grounds for divorce.”

“So you somehow instigated proceedings in Scotland without mentioning it to me, Peter, or James?”

Valentin offered her an innocent smile. “I thought it would be simpler if you didn't know anything about it.”

“What exactly did you do?”

“I found a man who resembled James and a beautiful actress from the London stage and sent them off to live at Gretna Green for the required six weeks. I then hired a woman who looked like you, Abigail, to find them in bed together in front of witnesses.”

Peter snorted and took the seat next to Abby. “Wait, it gets better.”

Val gave him a severe look. “When it seemed that James was dead, I didn't want to bother you with details of a scheme that was no longer necessary and kept the information to myself.”

“Then why did you take James to Scotland if you'd already concluded your scheme?”

“Because once I realized he was still alive, I decided using James's real signature and persona would add a layer of authenticity to the proceedings that no one would ever be able to dispute.”

“Even though he'd already been declared dead?”

“I paid my coconspirators very well. They will all swear they met James before he returned to the West Indies and died.” Valentin's gaze was steady. “Not that anyone will ask. I can assure you that no one will ever challenge this divorce.”

“But James . . .”

“Once I explained how his attempts to be honest with you and Peter had led to your decision not to marry for several years, if ever, James was happy to help.”

“But why would the courts continue to deal with a divorce case concerning a man who was already dead?”

“Because they heard the case before James was officially
pronounced
dead. You know yourself that it takes time for all the formalities to be carried out. It's just taken this long for them to produce the necessary documents.”

“And tell the newspapers.”

Val half smiled. “No, that was my idea. I wanted everyone in society to know that you had been on the brink of being free to marry again before James's death.” He shrugged. “Most people know of James's proclivities and will be sympathetic toward you. They will applaud him for doing the right thing.”

Valentin sat back. “As far as the world is concerned, you are legally divorced from James and can now go off and marry Peter in Scotland with no slur on your character, your son's parentage or concern over your continuing presence as Jamie's trustee running this estate.”

His glance flicked between her and Peter. “After you have completed your period of mourning, naturally.”

“Naturally,” Abby said unsteadily. She looked down at the packet of documents in her hand. “Is this really true?”

Val placed his hand over his heart. “I swear it is, Abigail.”

She turned to Peter, who was watching them both, a troubled frown on his face. “What's wrong, Peter?”

“Nothing. I just . . . can't believe Val has done this.”

Val frowned. “I thought that for once you would approve of my interference.”

“I . . .” Peter rose and went to kneel at Val's feet. He took his hand and kissed it. “I don't know what to say.”

“I do.” Abby came to join them, her eyes full of tears. “Thank you, Valentin. Thank you for everything.”

He smiled at them both. “I want you both to be happy.”

“And we will be.” Abby turned to Peter, who stood up and crushed her in his arms. “I can't quite believe that I am going to get exactly what I want.”

Peter kissed her hard. “Believe it, Abby. If Valentin has organized this, no one would dare to disagree with him.”

“Exactly.” Valentin stood and bowed. “And now I must get back to my wife.” He raised an eyebrow at Abigail. “She was fairly insistent that I return as quickly as possible because she has convinced herself the birth of our child is imminent.”

“Then I will get my bonnet and accompany you both back to town,” Abigail said firmly. ”Let me just speak to my maid and Jamie.”

She left the room, and Peter remained standing beside Val. After a quick glance at the closed door, Peter slid his hand around Val's neck and leaned in to kiss his friend.

“Thank you.”

“What, no arguing or telling me to keep out of your affairs?”

Peter smiled into Val's eyes. “Not this time.”

“Then perhaps for the first time in our lives we are even,” Val said softly, and kissed him back.