Seducing The Bride (Brides of Mayfair 1) (15 page)

Instantly, he imagined her again. She lay on her side with her back pressed against him, gasping as he entered her. His hands roamed over her breasts as he thrust into her, teasing their hard peaks, reaching down to stroke between her thighs as she moaned and—

Damnation! This would not do at all. Not at all. But the insistent hardness of his manhood would not go away.

He flipped over again onto his other side, determined to purge his mind of these tempting, vexing thoughts. But then the memory of kissing her so passionately in the salon jumped into his brain, along with the silken texture of her skin, the smell of her hair, and the maddening pleasure of her kiss.

It was no use. He was fighting a losing battle with his base desires. Determined to clear his mind, Beckett rose and lit a candle, electing to read Milton’s Paradise Lost. Perhaps that distraction would cleanse the wicked thoughts from his head.

He read a few pages, and then felt his mind drift back to the woman who had been nothing but trouble since he’d found her that night in the rubbish heap.

Isobel.

The woman who plagued his thoughts day and night. The woman who ignited his desires and made them burn with blazing heat. The woman who had lied to him about everything in her past.

His wife.

Devil take it, he was trying to honor their agreement. And she did nothing but upset his plans at every turn. Didn’t she know that it was all he could do to keep his hands from touching her, his lips from kissing her, and his body from taking her?

If he did that now, he might lose himself completely, and he could not risk that. He would not risk that. For the truth of the matter was that Beckett was harboring a secret.

He had a bad heart.

The blasted thing was always getting him into trouble, developing feelings for women who would only let him down in the end.

He couldn’t let Isobel know the truth, for if he let her into his heart now, he knew he’d never get her out.

After a breakfast of pastries and delicious exotic fruit, Beckett decided to take Isobel on a small tour of the St. James district. After he swung himself up onto his mount, and she onto hers, they set off down the grassy tree-lined road.

He glanced over his shoulder to see her riding behind him, the wind playing with the curly tendrils of her hair. Isobel had forgone a bonnet today, telling him that she preferred going without.

Beckett slowed his stallion and let Isobel’s mare walk beside him. The two horses greeted each other, their noses nuzzling slightly whenever they could.

“They seem quite fond of each other, do they not?” he asked.

“They do, indeed.” Isobel smiled.

They stopped and let the horses communicate in their secret way. “Do you think….” Isobel began.

“What?”

“It sounds silly,” she continued, “but do you think these two could be in love?”

Beckett watched the horses’ heads rub against each other and listened to their quiet whickering.

“I suppose anything is possible,” he replied.

Isobel smiled and said, “Then they are fortunate creatures.”

“Some might disagree with you,” he observed.

“Like who?”

“Romeo and Juliet,” he said, “Hamlet and Ophelia, and Othello and Desdemona, to name but a few. Love didn’t make them very happy, did it?”

“No,” Isobel agreed. “But it made Beatrice and Benedick happy. Not to mention Orsino and Viola, Orlando and Rosalind, and Titania and Oberon. So there.”

Beckett found himself grinning. “It seems you are having the better of this argument, madam. Shall we let the lovers alone then, and go exploring on foot? Mr. Cobb told me there were some very interesting caves down there by the beach. What do you say? Are you game?”

“I am,” she replied. “This island enthralls me. I want to learn all I can about it while we are here.

“As do I,” he said, dismounting and tying his horse to a bush. He reached up to help Isobel down from her mare, then tied it next to his. Taking Isobel’s hand, he led her through the tall grasses toward the full sound of crashing waves.

They came around a bend to see a white sandy beach that stretched from the nearby cove as far as the eye could see. The turquoise water caressed the sand in frothy white waves.

Beckett stopped near a jagged rock formation, resting his boot on the bottom of it. Above, the entrance of the cave gaped like an enormous mouth.

“Might you be brave enough to go in there with me, my dear?” he said, flashing her a challenging look.

Isobel met his gaze evenly. “Of course. After all, someone has to protect you. Lead the way.”

Beckett started up over the rocky terrain to the entrance. He glanced back over his shoulder to make sure she was following, and was surprised to see her only a few steps behind him.

She was tougher than she looked.

As they reached the cave mouth, he noticed that the air coming from the opening smelled quite earthy and pungent. It was strong but somehow pleasant, too.

“I should warn you, Isobel,” Beckett said as he helped her over the rocks. “Caverns can be treacherous places. So watch your footing and your head. Stay close to me and don’t make any noise.”

“Why should we not make noise?” she asked. “There is no one in there, surely.”

“For all we know, this is a pirate lair,” he pointed out. “They could be in there right now burying their treasure.”

Isobel put her hands on her hips, looking unamused at his teasing.

Beckett laughed at her expression, saying, “I thought you said you weren’t afraid.”

“Nor am I,” she replied.

“If you say so,” he said, unconvinced.

Isobel huffed in exasperation and stepped away from him.

Beckett searched the ground. “Cobb said that he left a torch here. He told me these caves are sometimes used by the natives in those rituals they have. Perhaps we’ll find a few skeletons. What do you think? Aha, here it is.”

Beckett picked up a well-used torch and reached into his pocket for a match to light it. The acrid smell of the burning torch mixed with the cave’s unusual odor.

“Shall we?” he held his hand out in invitation.

Isobel took a deep breath and lay her hand in his.

“I should like to see Miss Cordelia Haversham go into a cave like this,” Isobel said, her eyes glittering with challenge. “I would wager she’d have none of it.”

Beckett cocked an eyebrow. “May I remind you that you have yet to enter it yourself.”

Isobel smiled back, calmly. “Quite right. I’ll remember those words when I’m forced to drag you out bodily, when you yourself are undoubtedly overcome with an attack of nerves.”

He grinned.

Slowly, they entered the mysterious cave. Beckett’s torch cast shadows everywhere, but provided enough light to show the incredible interior.

Beckett had never seen anything like it. The whole of the cavern ceiling was comprised of what looked like huge, dripping icicles, which seemed to glitter and glow with unusual, other-worldly colors.

“What on earth are those?” Isobel asked.

“Stalagmites and stalactites, if I remember my lessons correctly,” Beckett replied. “Look, over there.”

He pointed toward an underground waterfall nearby, the torchlight illuminating it as they approached. Water flowed and bubbled over the odd-looking rocks, down to more of the formations which seemed to grow out of the cave’s floor like strange mushrooms.

“My heavens, I’ve never seen anything like it,” Isobel said.

“Apparently there are caves like these all over Barbados,” Beckett said, peering into the darkness. “Who knows how deep this one goes?”

“Shall we keep going?” she asked.

“We may explore a bit farther, but not too much,” Beckett cautioned. “As I said, caverns can be very unstable—”

His words were cut off as a huge stalagmite ripped away from the ceiling high above them with a resounding crack. Beckett’s head jerked up to see it falling right toward them.

Seizing Isobel in his arms, he rolled them both out of the way. The stalagmite smashed into the floor, its sharp point piercing the muddy ground a few feet away from their faces.

An eerie, high pitched squeaking sound filled the air, from somewhere deep in the cave.

“I don’t like the sound of that, Beckett,” Isobel said. “What in God’s name is it?”

“Bats!” Beckett yelled, and quickly shielded her body with his own. The deafening sound of flapping wings surrounded them.

The air compressed as a huge gust of wind blew overhead. A thundering clamor filled the air as thousands of bats swept through the cave. Isobel buried her face in Beckett’s chest and clung tightly to his body.

Then, like a summer storm, the squeaking and flapping ceased as quickly as it had come. Slowly Beckett raised his head and looked around. Their torch lay flickering a few feet away.

He looked down at Isobel lying beneath him. They were molded together. “Are you alright?”

“Fine—I think,” she answered.

“You’re not hurt?” Beckett rolled off her and pulled her up beside him.

“No, just a little shaken. Was that your attempt at making me swoon?” Isobel brushed the dirt off her dress.

“Yes, but as you can see, I failed,” he said. “Now I shall lose my chance to carry you out of this dangerous cave and look the hero.”

“But you protected me from the bats—and the falling rock. That was very gallant,” Isobel pointed out. “Have I thanked you, Beckett?”

“For throwing you to the ground just now?” he asked, wryly. “I do not think many ladies would.”

“No,” she said, staring up at him. “For all that you’ve done for me.”

“A husband does not expect to be thanked, nor does he need to be,” Beckett answered. “It is my duty to protect you.”

“And it is my duty to do this.” Isobel touched her lips to his, kissing him with maddening delicacy.

Beckett felt himself hardening instantly at Isobel’s touch.

Devil take him, how he wanted her!

She broke the kiss and touched his face, her eyes glowing up at him in the flickering torchlight.

“Are you trying to give me that attack of nerves, wife?” he asked. “For I warn you, two can play at this game.”

Beckett’s mouth descended to claim hers and he deftly parted her lips with his tongue. He heard her quick intake of breath as he pressed her body tight against his and skillfully explored the secrets of her mouth.

Isobel trembled in his arms. Damn, but it felt as if she’d been made for his hands and mouth alone.

“Don’t swoon, now, or I’ll have to carry you out after all. Like this,” he said, lifting her up into his arms.

Isobel squealed adorably as he carried her toward the mouth of the cave. “Put me down! I will not have you say that I have swooned when I have not.”

“No,” he answered, “but you soon would have, trembling and sighing as you were in my arms.”

“I did no such things!” Isobel protested.

Beckett set her down at the entrance to the cave, saying, “Would you like me to demonstrate again, my dear?”

“It might be dangerous,” she answered. “We would invariably be late for dinner, and Jospehine would have the whole house staff out looking for us.”

“True,” Beckett said, with a pang of disappointment. He offered his hand to help her down the rocky slope “Shall we go back to the house?”

Isobel nodded.

They made their way to the horses, who were still nuzzling each other amorously. Beckett helped Isobel up onto her saddle before mounting, himself.

As they trotted down the road, Beckett fought a war with himself.

His resolve was weakening. Each day it became more and more difficult to resist his wife’s charms. Perhaps he was making too much of the whole thing. Where was the harm in consummating their marriage?

He wanted it.

He wanted
her
.

It didn’t mean he was in love with Isobel.

Yet, he had sworn to himself not to take her to bed until he was certain she was innocent of the accusations against her. But what if that day never came?

How long could he resist the desire to claim Isobel, and make her his true wife?

Chapter 15

Isobel lay in her bed gazing idly up at the ceiling. It was quite late in the morning, she knew. But she had been having such delicious dreams. Why couldn’t she stay in bed and think about them for awhile?

She hadn’t known what had come over her when she’d kissed Beckett so brazenly in the cave. But she didn’t regret it. She’d wanted to thank him, and it seemed a perfectly natural thing for a wife to do to her husband. Besides—being in his arms was the most exciting feeling she had ever known.

Still, Beckett had made it perfectly clear to her that he would never have feelings for her or any other woman. Falling in love with him would be like stepping off a cliff to see if she could fly. While providing a unique experience, both would lead to her destruction.