The Sweetest Revenge (35 page)

He groaned. “You’re so tight. It feels so damned good.”

She squeezed him even tighter in that hot velvet clasp. His cock tightened. She squeezed his arse, wrapping her legs around it. She squeezed his shoulders, her arms tightening as she held him.

He began to move, began to take that climb to the pinnacle. God. How was it possible that she seemed to grip him tighter with every heavy thrust he made into her body? She was wrapped around him, her breath gasping out in tandem to every push he made inside her. He buried his face in her hair as her entire body went rigid, and then she began to undulate beneath him, her body moving in waves around his body, her channel rippling over his cock.

This was his Belle. His Belle, always so passionate, being overcome by furious pleasure. Emotion crowded his throat, his own breaths now coming out in staccato bursts.

He loved her so much. He always had, even when he’d thought she was gone from him forever. He didn’t know how it could be possible after so much time, but there it was. He loved her. She was his salvation, his hope, his happiness. His everything.

Her body released, going liquid around him, and now, as he glided into her, she was burning hot, silky smooth.

He raised his head, looking down at her to see her gazing up at him, her blue eyes searching his face.

“Don’t leave me,” she whispered, vulnerability stark in her eyes.

“Never,” he promised. “I’ll never let you go. Never again.”

“I’m afraid, Leo.”

“Don’t be. I want you to be mine.”

“Ex-exclusively?”

“Of course.” Then he understood her meaning. He paused, spearing her with what he knew was complete honesty in his gaze. “You are the only woman for me. For the rest of my life. There will never be anyone else.”

She blinked at him as the enormity of that vow registered. Slowly, he began to move again, the feel of her around him so intensely powerful that he needed to fight to keep his eyes from rolling back in his head, to keep his gaze steady on hers.

Her arms tightened around him. “I want to believe you.”

He groaned softly. He’d never felt more raw, more openly honest in his life. “I don’t deserve you. I don’t deserve this. Please,” he whispered, “give me a chance to prove myself. My loyalty. My…my love.”

She gazed at him, the freckles stark over her nose, her eyes the blue of the sky, so clear, so guileless.

Then, she whispered, “All right. Because I love you, too, Leo. I love you so much.”

Releasing a low moan, he gathered her against him, his thrusts growing harder, deeper, stronger, his body reacting to her words without his conscious control. His whole body was tight, trembling as the sweetness of her words, of her body, of
her
, coursed through him.

“I love you, Belle,” he whispered into her hair.

And then he came, his body locked tight inside her. And there was nothing else but Belle. Her smell. Her taste. Her touch. She surrounded him with peace. Happiness. Complete, total fulfillment.

He would never let this woman go.

CHAPTER TWENTY

He lay over her for long moments, shuddering but holding most of his weight on his knees and arms so as not to crush her. But finally, he rolled heavily onto his side, taking Isabelle with him.

She snuggled against him, nuzzling the crook of his neck, basking in his masculine warmth and smell. They lay there for long minutes, silent, as their hearts calmed and their bodies cooled.

Finally, Leo pulled back from her a few inches. Tenderly, he tucked a blonde curl behind her ear. She gazed up at him. There was a calmness in his expression now. A peace that mirrored how she felt.

“How are you?” he asked, his voice soft and gruff.

Her lips twitched. “I’m well. You?”

“I’m well, too. For the first time in…a long time.”

Her smiled widened. “Good,” she whispered. Because she was finished with wanting him to suffer for his past. All she wanted was to be happy. To make him happy. And, she hoped they would forge that happiness together.

Hope. Peace. Contentment. These were all such foreign sensations. But she liked them all. Very, very much.

She stroked her hand down his side, feeling the muscular ridges under his shirt. When she reached its hem, she tugged upward, wanting to feel his flesh against hers. He moved back a few inches, allowing her to pull his shirt all the way up his body. Obligingly, he rose and pulled it over his head.

Livid purple bruises mottled his chest. “Oh, Leo,” she murmured in distress, stroking his wounds. “Oh no.”

She ran her fingers gently over the bruises and kissed them softly, one by one. “Phil did this to you. I’m so sorry.”

He took a deep breath. “I expect he is a little worse for the wear.”

“Aye.”

“But he will…ah…recover?”

She nodded. “He will recover.”

Phil’s physical wounds would heal, but she feared for the ones in his soul. Telling him good-bye this afternoon had been one of the most difficult things she’d ever had to do.

Leo sighed. “He has no technique. I’ll give him the address of my boxing master.”

He began to rise, but she grasped his arm. “Wait.”

He stilled. “What is it, love?”

“I must tell you something.” She swallowed, unable to meet his eyes. “Phil—he lied. It wasn’t too late. We only kissed. Nothing more.”

Leo let out a harsh breath. He stroked her cheek with his knuckles, turning her head, forcing her gaze to meet his. “I know I ought to say it doesn’t matter.”

“Aye, you should,” she said stoutly.

His lips pursed. “But it does. I can’t help it. It nearly killed me to think he’d made love to you. It made me want to kill him.”

She stroked the angle of his jaw. “Even if he had bedded me, Leo, it would not have been making love.”

“He said he loved you.”

“I know. But I could never love him in return. Sleeping with him would have… It would have broken my heart.”

He squeezed his eyes shut and nodded. “Finally.”

“What do you mean?”

“Finally, I did something right. For once, I came in time. I came before it was too late.” He pulled her against him, sinking his fingers into her hair.

She snuggled into his chest. Thank God he had come when he had.

“Aye,” she whispered. “Just in time.”

He held her for a long while, caressing her, murmuring words of love into her hair.

If only she could stay with him, like this, forever. Her life would be perfect.

But the world didn’t work that way.

She spoke into his chest. “Where shall I live, Leo?”

He pulled back, looking scandalized. “With me, of course! I mean, here for now. But I should like to take you to Leothaid Castle, too, in time.”

“Leothaid Castle?” She pulled back, panic crowding her chest. “Leo, you wouldn’t take me there! What would everyone say?”

His lips tilted. “The men will be envious of the beautiful woman on my arm, I expect.”

She drew away from him and sat up, clasping her arms over her chest.

His brows knitted. He rose to his knees to face her. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t believe I wish to go to Scotland with you,” she said stiffly. “Not to be paraded about like some…like some
Cyprian
to shock everyone.”

He stared at her, blank-faced, for a long moment, then broke into a peal of laughter.

She shifted away from him and tugged her clothing awkwardly up over her breasts. This was
not
amusing.

He took her face in his hands, leaned forward, covered her cheeks with kisses. “Oh, love. I don’t mean to make you my mistress.”

Isabelle stared at him, dumbfounded. “What do you mean, then?”

He sobered, stared down at her, and dragged a hand through his hair. “Good God. I never wanted that from you. You knew that, didn’t you?”

She couldn’t answer. She was completely bewildered.

“I don’t want you to be my mistress, Belle.” His voice was low, almost harsh. “I want you to be my wife.”

Her bones dissolved. She would sink back down to the floor if he didn’t hold her up.

“I don’t believe you.” Isabelle searched his eyes, desperately looking for the truth. “I cannot marry.”

“Why?”

“I am”—she struggled to find the right words—“disgraced. Ruined.”

He squeezed her shoulders, dug his fingers into her skin. “If you are ruined, then I am ruined a hundred times over, and I am a hundred times less worthy of marriage than you.”

“But…but are you sure you wish…?”

His fingers clamped harder. His teeth were clenched, his jaw rigid. “
I
am the one who ruined you, Belle. I am the one who disgraced you. But I always wanted you to be my wife. That was always my intention.”

“I…you…you’re an earl…”

“Yes.” His lip curled. “I am sorry about that. It’s no fault of mine, I assure you.”

“I’ve no income. My da—”

“To hell with your income. I have enough for both of us.”

“I…you…oh Lord.” She couldn’t think of anything else to say.

He propped his forefinger under her chin, forcing her gaze to his. He stared into her eyes for a long moment; then he said softly, “Tell me you will make me happy, Belle. Be my wife. I want you at my side forever.”

She burst into tears. She couldn’t help it. Yesterday, she had been prepared to submit to a man she didn’t love. Today, the man she did love said he loved her back, said he wanted her to be his for life, to be his wife. It was too much, too fast.

He pulled her into his arms and held her, kissing her tears away.

 “Tell me you will marry me,” he said again when the sobs had receded.

She sniffed, rubbed the back of her wrist under her nose. It was running and probably quite red as well. Why did the wretched thing have to trickle at the most important moment in her life? “Oh Lord, where is my handkerchief?”

He lifted her, sat her on the edge of a sofa, and found her a handkerchief. As she blew her nose, he knelt before her. He squeezed her hands and stared up at her through silver-blue eyes. The look of stark vulnerability in his face was her undoing. “Say you’ll marry me, Belle. Please,” he whispered.

She gazed down at him. He wore only a pair of buff trousers. His muscular, bruised chest was bare. His shoulders were taut…all his muscles tightened as if waiting in suspense for her answer.

She looked at his hands, so large clasping her own. So firm. She felt so safe whenever Leo held her. For the past seven years, she’d thought the safety he’d offered her was an illusion…but perhaps it wasn’t. Not anymore.

She gazed at his handsome face again. At the line of his jaw, at the mottled bruise where Phil had punched him. At the pink bow of the lips she adored kissing. At the straight, aristocratic line of his nose. At the crease that had deepened between his brows as he gazed at her. At his eyes, glistening with a silver sheen.

She’d always loved him. She’d tried to refute it, tried to hide her heartbreak, tried to build that brick fortress around her heart. But she’d lied to herself and everyone else. She’d never stopped loving him.

She could hardly open her mouth without bursting into fresh tears. Struggling for control, she smiled, blinked hard, rubbed her nose, and spoke in a faltering voice. “Aye, I want…I want to be your wife.”

He kissed the back of her hand. “I’ll arrange a special license, and we’ll marry as soon as possible. I want to announce you to the world as my countess.”

She would be a lady. She would be a countess. She would be able to face all of society, especially her own family, with her head held high. That would be the sweetest revenge of all.

They rose and fetched their clothes, laughing softly at the complete disorder they’d made of the drawing room.

As he was attempting to arrange her bodice into some semblance of respectability, she clapped her hand over her mouth. “Oh dear!”

“What?”

“I’ve forgotten about Ailis!”

“Ailis?”

“My maid. I left her waiting outside. She’s probably off to a constable by now to accuse you of murder. I have to—”

His arm tensed around her. “I’ll send someone to fetch her. You’re not going anywhere.”

She looked at him in surprise. “Why not?”

“I will not lose you again. I am not letting you out of my sight.”

Nobody had ever been possessive of her before. A little thrill ran through her.

“Never?”

His gaze softened. “Well, maybe eventually. Maybe I could get used to it…a bit at a time.”

“That’s good,” she said, “because it will be necessary to visit my friends.”

His features tightened, then relaxed. He smiled. “Ah. Your friends. Come with me. I have something for you.”

He led her out of the drawing room. She clutched his arm, fearful of who might be lurking in the hallway to see them in such complete disarray. Much to her relief, it was empty. She knew the servants must have heard at least some portion of what had happened earlier. She winced, remembering shouting,
“I hate you”
to him at the top of her lungs, and not long afterward, screaming out her pleasure. The whole street must have heard.

He led her to the back of the house. “This is my study,” he explained as they entered the sparsely decorated, dimly lit, wee room. It was painted green, a thick rug covered the floor, and a mahogany desk stood near the far wall, bare except for a plain black inkpot. The single bookshelf only contained a handful of books.

“I don’t come in here often,” explained Leo almost apologetically. “It doesn’t hold good memories for me. But my safe is here, so whenever I require funds—”

Isabelle hovered at the threshold. “Why doesn’t it hold good memories?”

He glanced up at her. “This is…this is where my brother commanded me to stop mourning you. It was a month after your death, and he’d come to London and summoned me here. He said I…” He shook his head and pressed a panel on the wall behind his desk. It moved aside to reveal a metal box. Leo opened the box and removed a small packet.

“What did he say?” she asked softly.

Leo’s jaw ticked, and his blue eyes darkened to a stormy gray. “He said I was behaving like a besotted fool. He…he slandered you, Belle.”