Wicked Delights of a Bridal Bed (22 page)

Reaching up, she stroked a palm over his chest. “You said she wrote you a letter. What did it say? After all these years, you really ought to tell someone, you know.”

He arched a sardonic brow. “What makes you think I haven’t?”

“If you had, it wouldn’t be so hard to talk about it now. Unless you don’t trust me.”

“Of course I trust you.”

She pressed herself closer, letting silence speak for her.

Suddenly he lowered his arms and locked them around Mallory. “I don’t want you to think badly of her.”

“I shan’t. I promise.”

Gazing into her eyes, he studied her for another long moment, his throat swollen with suppressed emotion. “You know my father was in debt, that he gambled and drank and caroused with the most unsavory sorts of blackguards.”

“Yes, that’s why the house is bare. Why he sold all the furnishings and valuables.”

He glanced away. “That’s not the only thing he sold.”

“What do you mean?”

“He sold her, Mal. Once I was out of the house, he started trading her to his gaming cronies in exchange for debts he couldn’t pay.”

She drew a harsh breath. “Surely you aren’t saying—”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” he said, looking at her again. “He turned his innocent daughter into a whore.”

“But she was only a child—”

“All the more reason they liked her, disgusting animals that they were. That
he
was. I’m ashamed to admit a man like that was my father. I swear I had no idea. If I’d thought for an instant he was capable of such heinous deeds, I would have moved heaven and earth to take her with me, to keep her away from him. But she didn’t tell me, and I wasn’t aware of the truth, not until it was too late.”

“Oh, Adam—” she said, trembling inside his arms.

“When she found out she was with child, the shame was too great for her to bear, so she drowned herself. After I received her letter, I drove here to Gresham Park intending to kill him. I nearly did. I beat him to within an inch of his life before a pair of the servants pulled me off. Only the thought of Delia and the knowledge that she wouldn’t have wanted me to hang for his murder kept me from following through.”

He drew a breath, then slowly released it. “She didn’t name the men who’d used her, but I had a fair idea who they must be. I tracked them down and confronted them, horse-whipping the ones who were too cowardly to fight me man-to-man. I told them if they ever breathed a word of what they’d done to my sister, I’d kill them and the consequences be damned. Over the years, they’ve all gone to the grave, taken early by the ravages of one vice or another. If justice be served, they are burning in hell even as we speak.”

“They must be. They deserve no less for what they did,” she agreed.

“My father most of all. I trust the devil has a special torment set aside just for him.” He paused, his thoughts carried back to those terrible times and the anguish that had followed. “I never saw or spoke to him again after I left Gresham Park that day. To me, he was as good as dead, and I wanted nothing more to do with him. From that moment forward, I had no family, I had no home.”

She stroked her hand across his chest, her aquamarine eyes glittering with a fierce light. “You’ve always had a home with us. I don’t wonder now that you spent all your summers and holidays with my family. I wish I’d known. I wish I’d done more.”

His lips curved. “You did plenty. You and the Byrons were my shelter from the storm, and now you are so much more. Now you’re my wife, my new family.”

“And this is your home once again,” she said. “I promise that we’ll drive away the last memories of your father and leave only the good ones behind. If I should happen upon a painting of him tucked away in the attic, I’ll order it burned with the rest of the rubbish.”

A fierce warmth radiated through him, as a laugh burst from his throat. “And I’ll provide the tinder.”

“Delia’s painting goes in the family hall,” she stated in a decisive tone. “She’ll be placed right next to you and me once we commission our own portraits. She’ll be remembered for the wonderful young woman she was, not for the horrible things your father forced her to do. The world believes she died in an accident, and that is what they will continue to believe. You loved her and esteemed her, and that’s all anyone ever needs to know. I only wish I’d had a chance to meet her. I feel certain we would have been friends.”

The laughter fell away, leaving behind a new warmth and something more, something deeper that he could no longer entirely conceal. Drawing her closer, he took her lips, losing himself in the heady pleasure and the tender benediction of her touch.

Emotions welled within him, clamoring to escape their bonds. “I must have done something right to have found you,” he murmured against her lips. “Sweet heaven, Mallory, I love you.”

For a moment he didn’t realize he’d spoken aloud, certain he’d simply said the phrase in his head as he had so often before. But then he noticed the way she’d stiffened in his arms and how her mouth was no longer moving beneath his own. Drawing back, he met her gaze, aware that he’d not only uttered the words but that she’d heard them.

She stared, eyes wide.

Rather than let the silence lengthen, he forced out another laugh, ignoring the sudden pain blossoming around his heart. “I love you standing up for what’s right rather than what Society deems proper. I can always count on you to buck tradition. Thank you for taking Delia’s side—and mine.”

“Well…um…there’s no other side
to
take.” Pausing, she continued gazing at him, puzzlement in her eyes.

Before she could question him, or give him further cause to repine, he kissed her again. “Speaking of bucking tradition, what do you say to an afternoon tryst? You need to get out of those clothes, and I wouldn’t mind helping you.”

Her eyes widened again but for a completely different reason this time. Without waiting for permission, he bent and swept her into his arms, cradling her high against his chest.

If he couldn’t have her love, he decided, then he’d have her body instead. Perhaps it showed a marked lack of pride on his part, but he’d take whatever portion of her he could get and be glad, since anything else was unthinkable.

Ignoring the curious looks of the servants, he carried her upstairs to her bedroom and kicked the door shut behind them. Standing her on her feet, he reached for the apron strings at her waist and slid the ties free. After tossing the garment aside, he began undoing the fastenings on her dress, one slow button at a time. Claiming her mouth with passionate, possessive kisses that made her shiver and moan, he stripped her to the skin.

Sweeping her once again into his arms, he carried her to the bed, where he joined her, seeing to it he made good on his promise and so very much more.

Some while later, Mallory lay relaxed and replete against the well-rumpled sheets, her body humming from the surfeit of pleasure still pulsating through her system. Adam was sprawled beside her, and from the rhythmic tempo of his breathing, she knew he was asleep. And no wonder, since the intensity of his lovemaking had pushed them both to their limits and beyond. She wasn’t sure the exact number of postures she and Adam had tried so far, but they’d certainly added a couple of new ones to the tally today.

Releasing a contented sigh, she closed her eyes and let herself drift, deciding that a bit more afternoon decadence couldn’t hurt under the circumstances.

Scarcely a minute passed, however, before her eyelids opened again, his earlier words playing once more in her mind.

Sweet heaven, Mallory, I love you.

At first she’d thought she must not have heard him right.

Love her?

Adam didn’t love her.

Or did he?

She’d been so surprised, she hadn’t said a word, distracted enough by the phrase that she’d been momentarily jarred out of the delightful haze of their kiss. Before she could respond though, he’d sloughed off the declaration by making some new comment about his sister. Then he’d whisked her up here to her room and hustled her into bed so quickly she hadn’t had time to think of anything but the overwhelming rapture of his embrace.

But he was sleeping now, and she was awake. Awake and wondering about his words, his feelings.

And her own.

Quite likely Adam hadn’t meant to convey anything deeper than the friendly affection they’d always shared, the phrase slipping imprudently from his lips.

Yet what if he
had
meant more? Was it possible that he was in love with her? And if he were, how did she feel in return?

She loved him, of course, but was she
in love
with him?

A shiver ran through her at the idea, her fingers tightening into a fist where they lay against her bare stomach. Suddenly she was viscerally aware of him beside her, his large body so warm and strong and familiar now that they were lovers. Now that she was his wife.

But love?

God knows she didn’t want to be in love; it hurt too much. And yet…and yet she could imagine how sublime it would be to love him, to give herself wholly to the emotion and forget about the uncertainties, the fear.

For therein lay her dilemma—she was afraid.

After Michael’s death, she’d never thought she would find a way to escape the pain, unable to do much more than survive each day and pray for an end to her suffering. The thought of going through that again, of risking such profound loss if anything should happen to Adam…well, she didn’t think she could manage such grief another time.

Still, she hadn’t thought she could be happy again either—and she was. She hadn’t imagined a new life, new pleasures and a future that stretched bright as a rainbow before her.

And all because of Adam.

He’d led her out of her darkness. He’d shown her how to live again. He’d shown her how to love.

Her soft gasp echoed in the air, her heart thundering suddenly beneath her breasts, pummeling her ribs.

Was it too late? Did she, could she, be in love with him already?

And in that moment, she knew the truth. Without realizing when or how, she had fallen in love with him, the feeling creeping up on her with such stealth that she hadn’t even been aware. What delicious irony, what rich surprise, to find herself in love with her husband, her friend.

Smiling, she let out a little laugh. Then she grew still again, as the fear returned. What if some tragedy were to befall Adam? How would she endure his loss?

But Adam wasn’t a soldier like Michael, she reassured herself. He didn’t put himself in harm’s way on a daily basis, literally tempting fate to take his life. He was young and healthy—very healthy if their recent lovemaking was any indication—with years and years ahead of him. Anything could happen, of course, accidents did occur, but she had more chance of dying in childbirth than he did going about his usual routine. If either of them was to be widowed, it was far more likely to be him.

But enough of such maudlin speculation, she thought. She was in love, terrifying as that prospect might be.

Rolling over, she pressed herself against Adam’s long, bare frame, glorying in the smooth heat of his skin, the crisp texture of the hair on his chest. Leaning down, she laid her mouth against his shoulder and began kissing a path along his body. He shifted beneath her but didn’t wake, turning his head against the pillow, clearly lost in dreams.

Hopefully they are good ones,
she thought. But she planned to give him something better than dreams…much, much better. Skimming her fingers over the broad planes and taut angles of his muscular form, she let herself play, teasing him with touches, rousing him with kisses both lingering and lavish.

His arousal awakened before he did, his shaft stiffening in a most impressive display. Palming its length, she watched his eyelids slowly lift, a groan rumbling from his throat as he met her gaze. His sleepy brown eyes were night-dark with passion, his features stark from the obvious intensity of his need.

“What are you doing?” he rasped, his hips arching of their own accord beneath her grasp.

She smiled and stroked him harder. “What does it feel like I’m doing?”

A moan tore from him.

“Of course, I could always stop,” she murmured teasingly.

“Don’t you dare!” His hips arched again, his shaft moving inside her palm.

She chuckled and bent to kiss him again, opening her mouth over one of his flat nipples. Flicking it with her tongue, she smiled when he shuddered, his fingers reaching up to tangle in her hair and cradle her closer. With a sudden daring, she bit him just enough to nip, only hard enough to give pleasure rather than pain. A fresh groan left his mouth, his muscles flexing and bowing as if they’d been shot through with a jolt of electricity.

She could tell he was surprised. She was surprised herself, since she’d never initiated their lovemaking before. Until today, she’d always been content to let him direct their bed play. But today she was the aggressor. Now she was the one taking the lead.

Clearly, Adam was enjoying it, as he shifted in ways that encouraged her caresses, inciting her to be as bold and brazen as she wished.

But his willingness to submit had its limits, and it wasn’t long before he turned the tables on her and reasserted his dominance. Once he did, all she could do was surrender as he dragged her up and over him. Before she even had time to draw a new breath, he parted her legs and thrust himself inside, burying his powerful erection as deep as it would go.

A keening cry burst from her as savage delight spread like wildfire through her veins. He pulsed strongly within her and sent her senses whirling away.

In the golden afternoon light, she met his gaze, her body filled with more than longing, her spirit alight with newfound love. The words hovered on her lips, fluttering like butterfly wings anxious to be set free. But a twinge of fear rose abruptly inside her, leaving her too shy to confess. And so she bent to kiss him instead, letting her mouth and body speak to him of her devotion, her adoration.

As though sensing the change, he drew back, studying her as he cradled her face in his hands. “Mal?”