Improper Pleasures (The Pleasure Series #1) (33 page)

“You would rather stay here and be at his mercy, than flee
with me? I will take care of you, Astra. I always will.” He reached out for her
hand, but didn’t try to touch her.

“He is my husband, Wesley.” When she wrapped her arms
protectively around her, he dropped his hand and his hurt gaze. “It will cause
you more grief if I go with you. Let me give James back his money, so you can
escape. It’s the only way.” Astra hated that she was not sure what James would
value more. Having enough money to rescue Eastlan from ruin, or keeping his
wife.

“I see what I have to do. It was my last resort, but there
is no other way.”

“I’m sorry, Wesley. I wish you had not risked so much on
my behalf. I would have begged you not to if you would have asked me.”

“I know you would not have wanted me to risk so much and
that’s why I could not tell you. Will you miss me?” Again he reached his hand
out to her, and she took it this time, comforted by his return to the same old
Wesley.

“More than you know.” She squeezed his fingers briefly
before disengaging his hold. “I am sorry it has come to this, but, Wesley, you
should have a life of your own.”

“I intend to.” He smiled sadly, then kissed her on the
cheek. “Goodbye for now.”

He turned and walked down the dirt lane lined with tufts
of freshly sprouted grass. His direction was toward the village and away from
Eastlan.

Astra watched him go. Instead of solving anything, his
departure would make things infinitely worse. The baby. The money. The
duplicity. How could she expect James to ever trust her again, much less love
her?

***

James stumbled into his room, exhausted and frustrated.
Someone had taken a shot at him today. He’d been riding back from Launceston
where he’d instructed his bank to take Wesley off the account, something he
should have done the moment he’d arrived on English soil. The bank’s manager
was more than happy to conduct the audit of James’s account. No deposits had
been made since James’s arrival. All correspondence and receipts Hutton had
given him had been forged. The only account that had been opened was one
containing twenty thousand pounds for Astra Keane. The stray bullet that had
hummed by his ear had been less startling.

James yanked off his jacket, surprised Mr. Rudd wasn’t
around to greet him. A new decanter of brandy sat on the sideboard. Two crystal
goblets accompanied it, gleaming invitingly and possibly deadly.

In the village, the magistrate had thought it most likely Blackmore
who had taken a shot at James on the country lane that cut a swath through the
moor that led to Eastlan. James had immediately formed a different thought. And
when the French chemist, Dr. Montague—referred to him by the retired prison
doctor—could not find traces of arsenic in the brandy decanter from James’s
room, deep inside he knew otherwise. He’d dismissed the man’s insistence to
look to a woman for any kind of poisoning, probably the victim’s widow—as the
culprit.

No words would alter James’s conviction that Wesley was
trying to kill him, and the man grew more reckless and more daring with each
failed attempt.

But seeking out the chemist had led him to Launceston,
where he’d stumbled upon the bank whose name had appeared often in Eastlan’s
ledgers. James figured it fate or destiny, but changed his mind once he
realized where the trail he was following undeniably led. He didn’t tell the
chemist about Astra’s poisoned garden, but he hadn’t had to. He’d begun to put
the puzzle together in his mind.

Unfortunately, the chemist’s instance that women, the
weaker sex, were most often the ones to use arsenic on a relative, coupled with
the bank account in her name, forced James to rethink his intention to reveal
his suspicions to the magistrate. Astra would be under too much scrutiny.
Actually, the results of both his inquiries would lead a rational man to the same
conclusion. When it came to Astra, James had to admit, he was far from
rational. Never would he believe that she would have in any way harmed her late
husband, willfully or otherwise. And the same held true for her current
husband. Despite everything, he knew Astra cared for him, and damn it, he loved
her.

James’s gaze landed on the brandy. Though he didn’t doubt
Rudd had personally replaced and filled the decanter on the sideboard, James
was not taking any chances. Wesley had to have an accomplice, probably someone
inside the household who had access to his rooms. Again, the most obvious
person was unthinkable. Unfortunately, his heart’s insistence did not stop his
head from rehashing the facts at every turn. If Astra had an account for twenty
thousand pounds, why did she marry him? It turned his gut every time he
recalled sitting in the bank manager’s office and receiving the news. The
account had been open after James had arrived at Eastlan and had been steadily
growing, deposits all by Wesley Hutton.

James discarded his vest and sat on the velvet sofa to
remove his boots. Now that they were married, the account belonged to James.
All Astra’s assets now belonged to James, a fact of which she was brutally
aware. Was it possible she didn’t know about the account? James had to know the
truth. And there was only one way to find out.

He stood and strode from his room. She was his wife and he
had every right to barge in on her any damn time he wanted, even at this late
hour when she would surely have already retired. It didn’t matter. Right now,
right this minute, he wanted answers because all he had discovered on his
extended journey were more questions.

He found Astra’s room in short order and grabbed the
handle. After a pause caused by unjustified guilt that he quickly shook off, he
abruptly opened the door. The quiet room subdued him with its absolute
darkness. No fire warmed the hearth but that was to be expected. Spring had
given way to summer and the warmth of the days had begun to spread to the
night.

James quietly approached the bed swamped by memories of
the first time he had snuck into Astra’s room. His body tightened at the soft
floral scent filling the space. All his questions and speculations seemed mute
in comparison to the sudden need to hold her, touch her, make love to Astra,
his wife. He would have his answers then.

He sank onto the mattress already lost in the memory of
the feel of her skin, the warmth of her body closing around him. As his eyes
grew more accustomed to the shadows he slid his hands across the soft cotton
spread, reaching for her. The bed was empty. James grabbed the covers and
violently through them to the floor. Astra was gone and he was a bigger fool
than he’d ever imagined.

Astra lay in James’s large bed and listened to the sounds
of the empty house. Or so it had seemed as the last few days stretched into a
listless forever without James’s vibrant presence. She refused to believe
Wesley’s claim that James was with Melva. Astra intended to sleep in this bed
every night until she discovered the truth. He might be able to turn her away
in the light of day, but he would not do so behind closed doors. That’s where
she’d discovered the man she had fallen in love with, and here he would
instantly understand everything. If she could still reach him.

Footsteps in the hall urged her to sit up. She had been awakened
by sounds in James’s sitting room moments ago but had convinced herself the
noise was merely the wind stirring the trees and James wouldn’t be returning tonight.
A door swung open in the hall and banged against the wall with a loud crash.
Boots marched so quickly across James’s sitting room that the carpets hardly
cushioned the reverberating echo.

Astra momentarily froze at the thought that Eastlan was under
siege. When the door to the bedroom crashed open just as violently, she feared
that an intruder had breached Eastlan’s stone fortress. James’s angry
silhouette delivered only the briefest relief. He surged past her and into his
dressing room where after a few more thuds, the glow of a candle edged out the
shadows. Drawers slammed. James cursed.

Astra slipped from the bed, dragging a sheet with her.
Perhaps the reasons for his departure were worse than the ones she had
imagined. She cautiously followed James to his dressing room.

James had shed his shirt and was rummaging through drawers
of a darkly varnished wardrobe so tall it scraped the ceiling. His breeches
clung to his tense thighs. Muscles in his back bunched and strained under his
efforts though it was hardly necessary. His slick skin hummed with violence.

“James?”

He swung around and stared at her as if she were wearing
the sheet over her head rather than draped around her chest.

He slowly straightened, squaring his shoulders and filling
his chest. He exhaled loudly.

“Where have you been?” His words might have been more
comforting if he would have screamed his question rather than said them in the
quiet reserve he obviously forced.

“I’ve been here. Where have you been?”

He took a step toward her and she took a step back. Her
unconscious reaction seemed to shake him and he flinched slightly.

“I had business in Launceston. It kept me longer than
expected.” He seemed to take in her appearance for the first time. His eyes
widened and sensual interest clearly took over. “Why weren’t you in your room?”

She lowered her chin, letting her hair fall over one
shoulder. She readjusted the sheet, gripping it tighter. Now that she realized
he had not been in some sort of trouble, suspicions about Melva resurfaced. But
she had come here for just this reason and she had to be bold. She lifted her
chin. Let the sheet drop.

“I was in your bed. Waiting for you.”

James took a deep breath and she could almost see his
pulse quicken beneath his flushed skin. He stalked toward her, his eyes roaming
her body, locked on her breasts then dropping lower. Then his gaze shot to her
eyes and he veered away from her, angling his body so as not to brush her as he
left the small room.

Astra hung her head in defeat. Her chest squeezed dry and
hot. She could not muster a tear if she tried. She bent down and grabbed her
sheet, then squared her shoulders to face James. They could not live like this.
Absolute scandal was better.

For her perhaps, but not for her unborn child. She must make
James talk to her, see her, listen to her.

She retrieved the candle James had lit and followed him
into the other room. He stared at the unmade bed, lifted the covers, then
dropped them. After a visual search of the bedroom, he went into his sitting
room, and she heard the click of the lock. James immediately returned to the
bedroom and shut the door behind him, locking that door as well.

Astra set the candle on the nearest surface she could
find, a pedestal bearing a statue of a Grecian bust, and scanned the room for a
way out, or at least something to hide behind. James’s strange behavior
frightened her.

He strode toward her. “Come here.”

The softness in his tone urged her to forget reason and do
as he said.

He grabbed her when she was within arm’s length and
fiercely held her against his bare chest. The beat of his heart thudded against
her, urging her to change the rhythm of her breath to match his. He bent his
knees and nudged the hard ridge of his erection between her thighs. Lust and
longing weakened her knees. How she had dreamed of him touching her like this
these long lonely days. His masculine scent, musk, lime and something uniquely
him, enveloped her. She released her grip on the sheet to wrap her arms around
James’s neck.

She turned her face to his and he covered her mouth. His
kiss was passionate, hard and desperate. His heavy breathing and the press of
his hips warned her he was primed to take her. His hand slipped to her lower
back, holding her in place so he could press his erection more firmly against
her mound. Her inner lips warmed and pulsed at the contact. She was as eager as
he to connect in the only way they seemed to find mutual peace. Lost in the
feel of their tangled bodies.

He pulled his mouth from hers and brushed her hair with
his palm. “I didn’t mean to frighten you. I feared you’d left with Hutton.”

Astra caught her breath. It never occurred to her that
James would worry over what he might perceive as her reaction to Wesley’s
dismissal. She gazed into his eyes, letting the dampness in her own show
clearly.

“You are my husband and I love you. You might not believe
the latter, but the first is unarguably true. I would never leave you.” He
studied her and she thought she saw something hopeful in his gaze. Astra rushed
on before he concealed his obvious vulnerability. “You might not have liked the
circumstance but we are bound together for better or worse. I want it to be for
the better. And I will do everything in my power to make that so.”

His eyelids grew heavy. He dipped his head and kissed her
again. The hunger in his kiss and the way he arched against her led her to
expect him to guide her to the floor and take her on the carpet. Instead, he
lifted her into his arms. His actions were more efficient than gallant. He
quickly deposited her onto the bed and went to work on removing his boots.
Astra sat back on her elbows and watched him.

He tossed aside his stockings, then shucked his breeches.
Astra admired the thick cords of muscles bunched under his skin. The
unrelenting angle of his erection hinted that he had missed her as much as she
him. Her gaze moved to his face and she noticed the tired lines around his eyes
and mouth. Fully nude, he straightened and brushed his fingers through the
tangled hair that had fallen across his face. He looked wild, dangerous and
hungry.

And then his gaze fell on her and she could not turn away
from the intensity in his eyes. Did not want to. In that moment, he made her
feel as if she was the only woman in the world and he’d just discovered her.