Portrait of a Scandal (21 page)

Thomas said nothing. He didn’t even move. He just waited.

Nellie took a deep breath, tears now falling upon her cheeks. “Do you recall in my father’s library when you proposed to me, I told you that I could never marry you because I had done something, something of which I could not speak?”

Relief suddenly flowed through him as he gave a nod. “I do.”

Nellie closed her eyes for a moment. “Something else has happened to me since then Thomas, something I hoped for but never expected. I fell in love with you. I fell so hard that the thought of deceiving you any longer gives me too much pain for me to bear.”

Thomas’ heart soared. She loved him! He was not alone in his feelings of love. She loved him back. He wanted to cheer and shout it from the rooftops, but he saw the agony on her face and schooled his features. She had not finished.

“You know that tonight was about mother, and I tried so much to make her proud, but something overshadowed it. My past…and the pain I know it is going to cause you.”

Again, Thomas waited. He very much wanted to hear this from her lips, and felt it was important that she told him herself.

“I know about your past with Lady Mary. Not from gossip, as you might think, but from a first-hand experience.” A sob escaped her. “I am the woman who took the photo of you in July. It was I who sold it to the papers and it was I who made a profit from your actions.” Tears flowed freely, but Thomas could tell she was trying very hard to remain distant, regardless of her anguish.

He looked into his wife’s pained eyes and wanted nothing more than to pull her into his arms and kiss her, make love to her, allow her to know he didn’t care, that he loved her back. But, he knew enough about her to know that right now, she needed to hear his confession, as well.

“I know.”

She stared at her unmoving husband. His calm disposition—at a moment she had expected to bear witness to looks of disgust, hurtful words and demands of divorce—was nothing like the reaction for which she had steeled herself.

“What?” she asked with a shake of her head.
He couldn’t know.

“I’ve known you were the widow since the hunt at your father’s estate.”

Since the hunt?
“But that was before you proposed!”

“It was.”

“But…” She wiped her wet cheeks with a handkerchief and tried to focus on his words. “You proposed!”

“I did.”

“Why?” Her mind went blank, unable to understand.

“Because I wanted you,” Thomas stated simply.

“Wanted me? What? Wanted to take me as your bride and use it against me, should the need arise?” she shouted. Hurt and pain leaked from her very pores. She had carried this pain within her and he had known! He had known all along!

Thomas sighed. “No. It was nothing like that. I was angry when I discovered what you’d done, but at the same time I recalled your words to the duke. You said you did it to save your family. I asked your father about the estate and he told me you had saved it. I cannot say why I proposed that very day, other than I gave in to my lust for you.

“But during our short betrothal I learned and lusted for more than just your wit and body. I also came to care for you, more so than any other woman I have ever beheld. And since our wedding, I, too, have fallen in love, my dear. With you,” he stated.

Nellie could do nothing but stare, wide-eyed. He loved her? How could he, after everything she had done?

Thomas moved forward and stood before her. “I had hoped you would confide in me about the photograph, but I understand why you did not. It pleases me greatly that you have told me. It makes me feel as if there is nothing between us now.”

“But… But how can you ever forgive what I did?” she asked, tears running down her cheeks.

“I forgave it long ago. You are my wife, my love and the reason I live now. It is I who should be asking for
your
forgiveness. Before you, I was no gentlemen. I was by breeding, but not through my own actions. I now know what it is to love, and I do not ever want to go back to my life before you.”

Nellie could not believe her ears, but she would not question them. Not when he had made her so very happy. She threw herself into Thomas’ arms and met his eager lips. A man that loved her, and a man who had proclaimed that she was his world, his reason for living.

“I love you so much, Nel,” he murmured against her lips.

She smiled. “Prove it.”

Nellie felt his lips curve into a smile before he picked her up and tossed her onto the bed. She had the feeling her bottom was going to sting from her husband’s hand tonight, and she did not mind in the slightest.

Life was grand.

Also available from Total-E-Bound Publishing:

Rogues of Deception: The Rose’s Bloom

Danielle Lisle

Excerpt

Chapter One

Northern Dorset Forest

England, 1803

A clear blue sky was a rarity at this time of year. England had the worst weather, apart from Scotland, perhaps, where it rained no matter what the season.

Damon knew he shouldn’t complain, especially on a day as grand as this. The birds were singing, the wind whispered softly as it passed him, and the wildlife rustled in the underbrush. He was not after a small creature. No, he had his sights on a mighty stag. His man of business had mentioned seeing one in the area when he had recently journeyed from London. How prized would the animal look hanging on his wall? Of course, his study was already filled with the heads of other beasts, but Damon would make sure his staff found room for this creature’s massive antlers.

Approaching the large, winding river where he hoped his prey would stop to drink, Damon was surprised to notice a white mare tethered to a fallen tree. The mare raised her head as he approached, though she paid him and his black stallion little mind, finding the greenery below more appealing. He noticed the horse wore a sidesaddle and Damon’s eyebrows drew down as he looked for another steed. The mare was a fine horse, her saddle also of noble quality, yet it was unlikely a lady of nobility would have ridden out alone. A lady would never be found unchaperoned. It could ruin her reputation.

Scanning the tree line along the wide river, he became more puzzled as time progressed. Had the lady come to some harm? Where was she?

A sudden ripple in the water caught his attention. A woman rose, gasping for breath, taking the air deep into her lungs before she laughed, flipping onto her back, floating around as she gazed up at the blue sky.

It took Damon a moment to overcome his shock at the woman’s sudden appearance before he noticed she wore nothing but her slip. A very sheer slip. His eyes moved hungrily over the wet material, which clung to the vibrant curves underneath. The round softness of her breasts and the darker shadow at the apex of her sex intrigued him, as it would any hot-blooded male. His cock hardened as he sat upon his steed, conflicted between twin desires—to watch, or to make the girl aware of his presence? The former won out, and he encouraged his steed backwards, into the thickness of the forest along the river, concealing their presence. He was thankful for the soft splatter of water falling from the small waterfall upstream, masking his steed’s hoof falls.

Unable to bear not viewing her for long, Damon dismounted and tethered his stallion to a branch before hurrying back towards the river, where he perched himself against a tree like a hunter stalking his prey.

The girl, who he could now see clearly to be about eight and ten, perhaps, still floated carelessly on top of the water. She kicked her legs gracefully and ever so slightly, to keep herself from drifting downriver. Upon each movement, as a leg bent, the wet material of her slip clung to her sex, teasing him with glimpses of the hidden treasure.

His cock pulsed in his breeches, reminding Damon it had been too long since he had bedded a woman. Shifting his stance to release the tension behind the fabric, Damon groaned. Instead of easing his discomfort, it seemed to have advanced it. How divine it would feel to sink into the warmth of a woman’s sheath at that moment, pounding into her heavenly softness with the sun’s heat at his back. He shifted his stance again. Blast it!

His mind then travelled over the possibilities of who this woman could be. Several properties surrounded his own and shared access to the river. Her steed indicated she was a lady of quality—her identity could fall to a number of daughters of lords in the area.

The soft and carefree humming of the woman focused his attention back to her tempting body as it floated on the water’s surface. This section of the river was calm, the stream flowing little, yet enough to turn her around, exposing her as a delectable feast for his eyes.

His reverie was cut short as she rolled onto her stomach and leisurely swam towards the bank where her horse waited. Stepping out of the water, she climbed a large, flat boulder, which sat half submerged a few feet from where he stood.

The fabric clung to her greedily, outlining a detailed view of her body for anyone to see. He was thankful it was a private viewing. Damon had never been a man who liked to share. Her dark hair hung over her shoulders, and as she moved forward wetness, which gripped at her skin and the fabric of her shift, glistened in the sunlight. His cock twitched yet again—the image of her walking out of the water, the sun illuminating her from behind, gave the appearance that she was wearing nothing at all. If he never saw the sun again, he would be forever thankful for it choosing to shine on this grand day. He barely resisted the urge to stroke himself as he watched her sensual movements.

She was not a small woman, nor was she a large one, merely voluptuous. Simply delicious. Would a woman who looked as sturdy as she be able to endure his fierce desire? Damon forced himself to hold in his groan of longing.

She perched herself on the stone slab, looking around, scanning the trees, including the ones which concealed him. Feeling like a coward where he stood hidden, Damon still felt no urge to make his presence known. He was interested to see what the chit was up to. Her blush and excited expression led him to believe she was about to be less than proper. He was not disappointed.

As she lifted the fabric of her slip to rest on her hips, Damon was graced with an unobstructed view of her cunt. Tight, dark curls shielded her rosy flesh from his eyes, but his mouth watered and his cock jumped in anticipation.

She settled back, bringing her knees up, laying her head on the stone beneath. Damon crept out from his hiding spot, desperate to be closer, eager to hear any noise she made as he watched her curious fingers wander tentatively down to her box. His cock twitched in wonder.

Giggling at herself for being foolish enough to listen to her friend’s gossip at Lady Helen’s high tea yesterday, Claire lay on the damp slab. Their host’s daughter and her dear friend, Lady Margaret, had boasted of how a woman need not want or require a husband in life, other than to provide his seed for an heir. A woman could gain pleasure of her own.

Claire had thought Lady Margaret was speaking only of needlework or shopping, yet after a rather scandalous conversation in the garden as they’d walked arm in arm, Claire had been shocked to hear what her friend had confessed. It seemed she found pleasure in exploring her private woman’s area. Claire had wondered for a moment if her friend was jesting, but it had quickly become clear she was doing nothing of the sort. Quite animatedly, Lady Margaret had informed Claire that touching one’s private area could be a rather joyous undertaking.

Feeling daft for even attempting something she was sure should fall to the man she would one day marry, Claire still felt the burning urge to research this new theory.

Reaching down to an area she had never paid much attention to, other than during bathing, Claire began to explore. After casting a guilty look around, she felt confident in the knowledge she and Maise, her mare, were the only ones present to witness her folly.

Her friend had instructed her to open her woman’s area and find her ‘pleasure button’. Claire tentatively did as instructed, moving her finger between the flesh into the warmth of her folds, feeling for a button. She found none. Frowning, she tried again, yet found nothing remotely resembling the pleasure her friend had promised.

She sighed loudly. “Maise, I think Lady Margaret truly did jest. I am afraid I cannot find the button of pleasure she spoke of,” she told her horse as she removed her hand, feeling ashamed of her foolishness for believing her friend’s claim.

“Perhaps I can help,” a deep voice said from behind her. At the same moment, a piece of cloth covered her eyes.

She screamed and struggled to sit up, only to feel the weight of a strong hand holding her against the stone beneath.

“Do not fear me, my Lady,” he whispered close to her ear.

A shiver slid down her body. Oh, dear God! She had been witnessed in her folly! What would her father say if he found out?

“P-please, sir, let me get up.”

“Do you not wish to experience the pleasure your friend told you of? It does exist, my rose. Do not doubt it. I can show you.”

Again, a shiver raced through her body, but not from the chill in the air or the stone beneath her, simply from the warmth this man’s words evoked.

“I-it w-would not b-be proper,” she stammered.

He chuckled close to the delicate skin of her neck as his hold on her lessened, his hands moving to secure the fabric behind her head, which simply covered her eyes. Why did he not want her to see?

“My Lady, nothing about this is proper. I am simply a man offering my services to a beautiful woman,” he said as his hands slowly travelled down her damp hair, stroking the skin of her neck before they wandered down to the moist fabric concealing her breasts.

Her breathing became laboured—instead of feeling frightened, she suddenly wanted what this man offered. She should fear him, yet she did not. Why was that? She did not know him. What kind of man approached an unaccompanied lady?