Secrets of a Scandalous Marriage

CHAPTER 24

Kate dropped her gaze from James. She dropped the handkerchief into her lap and ran her hands along her skirts, smoothing them. “Fix everything? Is that what you want or what you’re compelled to do?”

He smiled at that. “Is there a difference?”

“Yes, a big one.”

He regarded her down the length of his nose. “May I ask you a question, Kate?”

She turned back and nodded. “Of course.”

“Why didn’t you and George have any children?”

She closed her eyes, briefly. “We tried … at first.” She swallowed and bit the inside of her cheek. “For several weeks of our marriage. It was awful, but … I did my duty. When it was obvious that I wasn’t with child, George tired of me. He told me he had mistresses to spend the night with, he wanted me to bear him a son.”

James winced.

“He left for London soon after. We argued constantly whenever we saw each other, though he rarely came home, and when he did … we never … He didn’t touch me again.” Oh God, her face must be bright pink.

James nodded. “And that’s why you wanted the divorce?”

She closed her eyes briefly. “I was so unhappy. I knew it would cause a horrendous scandal but I truly believed George would see the benefit. Frankly, he couldn’t have an heir any other way. We’d long since stopped pretending we would ever spend the night together again.”

James’s gaze pinned her. “You never took a lover, did you, Kate?”

She gasped. Her hand flew to her throat. “Of course not. I would never betray my husband.”

“I’m sorry I asked that,” he said a bit sheepishly. “The papers implied that you wanted a divorce because you had a lover.”

She sighed. “If it would have helped obtain the divorce, I would have said that I did,” she replied. “I would have done anything to provide him the grounds upon which to divorce me. I offered to allow him to bring a crim. con. suit.”

James sighed. A crim. con. suit. One of the few acceptable reasons for divorce. Of course, it hinged on the wife being an adulteress. No mention of the husband. An unfair law to be sure. “I must admit I didn’t know George well. We didn’t frequent the same club, and he rarely attended Parliament, but he sounds positively detestable.”

Kate nodded. “He was.”

James leaned toward her. “Do you regret not having children?”

She breathed a shaky breath and stared ahead of her, her eyes not focusing. “I’ve thought about that so many times in the past few weeks. And I have to say, for the first time since I married, I am glad I haven’t given birth. Oh, I wanted children at first, to be sure. I felt like a failure for being unable to produce an heir, but now, now that I’m on trial for my life and George is dead … I’m glad I didn’t bring innocent little lives into this world to suffer due to the fate of their parents.”

He touched her hand. “I understand, Kate. I do.”

She smiled wistfully. “Though, perhaps if I’d produced an heir, the entire situation would never have happened to begin with. Perhaps George would have loved me, would have stayed with me.” She shook her head. “Oh, I know that’s not true. And I couldn’t have stood it if he touched me again. It was … awful.”

“I’m sorry it was so bad for you, Kate.” His voice was soft.

Her breath caught when she met his eyes. They were nearly emerald and regarding her with such warmth, heat.

James set his wine glass on the table next to hers. “You know it’s not always like that, don’t you?”

Her voice caught. “Like what?”

“Awful.”

She shook her head.

“If you were my wife, you’d never call it a ‘duty,’” he breathed just before his mouth moved closer to hers.

Kate swallowed, her breaths coming in short little pants. “I believe that.”

And then she was in his arms.

James’s lips met hers, tangled with hers, teased hers. Kate moaned. His lips were at her ear, her cheek, her chin, they moved down her neck and nuzzled at her décolletage.

His fingers made quick work of the back of her gown, and the fabric fell away from her breasts. Next, her stays came undone. Apparently, James knew exactly what he was doing when undressing a lady. She shivered.

“Let me touch you, Kate,” he whispered.

“Yes,” she breathed.

Her breasts sprang free, and Kate sucked in her breath. No man had ever seen her naked before, save for her husband. It felt wrong to be doing this in the middle of the library. Wrong, but delicious. And when James’s mouth moved down to her nipple and bit and tugged, she ceased thinking at all. Live. Live. Live. The words sang in her head. Sharp pangs of desire zinged to the private spot between her legs. She held his dark head against her breast. She’d never felt such utter longing before. Never closed her eyes like she did now and just allowed herself to … feel.

James shifted on the settee. He pulled her underneath him and lay atop her. His hips were moving of their own accord against her, and she answered his thrusts. She couldn’t stop if she’d wanted to. He pulled up her skirts to the tops of her thighs and jerked her legs around his waist.

Kate’s eyes flared wide. Her head fell back. She moaned in the back of her throat. And then his head moved to her breast again, and she ceased thinking entirely. His lips teased her, bit her, drove her wild. George had never done this. He’d barely even touched her breasts, let alone sucked on them. She was half mad with wanting. James’s strong, sure hands tugged at her skirts. And then her dress was gone, a heap on the floor in a matter of seconds. She should be embarrassed or ashamed. She was neither.

“Take off your clothes too,” she demanded, pulling at the buttons to his breeches.

He shook his head emphatically, his eyes, dark green now, staring into her soul. “I can’t.”

“Why not?” she moaned as his mouth came back to play with hers.

“If I do, I won’t be able to stop.”

She reached for his breeches again, but he moved his hips away, and Kate stopped all protest when he moved down on the sofa, plucked at her stockings, and pulled them down. Oh God, what was he doing?

Kate shuddered. Any of the servants might come in at any moment, but for the life of her, Kate couldn’t bring herself to care one bit. All she wanted was to feel James’s hands and mouth on her. Touching her, branding her, scorching her skin. She’d never felt anything like this passion that flared between them. If she were going to be put to death in a matter of days or weeks, she wanted to feel more. More. More. More.

His hot breath was on the inside of her thigh, and Kate gasped. She wanted to die. She never wanted it to end. He couldn’t possibly mean to …

No.

But the next feeling was the tip of his fire-hot tongue probing at a spot between her legs that was so sensitive, so wet, so hot. She shuddered and reached down to grab his head. She couldn’t let him do this. It was … indecent … wasn’t it? Oh God, was it? Then, suddenly, she hoped not, or more specifically didn’t care. All she knew was that she never wanted him to stop. His mouth left her briefly, and she whimpered only to have his finger come up to play in the springy hair between her legs. He parted her with his fingers, and then his tongue was back, licking her, sucking at her, making her feel things she’d never known she was capable of feeling. She clutched at his shoulders. “Yes, James, please,” she begged.

He licked her, in tiny little laps, over and over. His tongue moved up and down on her with such precision and skill. She was convinced she would die of happiness, of feeling, was convinced she couldn’t take any more. But then, just when she thought she might burst apart into a thousand tiny pieces, he stopped. “No!” Kate cried out, and then his finger was there, thrusting into her, up and down, making her hips buck uncontrollably beneath him.

“James, I don’t think … I can’t…” She twisted her hands in her own hair, half mad with wanting him.

“Shh,” he whispered against her thigh. “Don’t be frightened, Kate. I want to make you feel good.”

Oh God. She wanted to feel him inside of her, filling her, completing her, moving inside of her, making her his. She’d never experienced such lust before, and she never wanted it to end.

“James, please.” She pushed her hands down and tried again to grab at his hips to undo the fastening to his breeches. He moved away again, but this time she moved lower and clasped him, through his breeches. She wrapped her fist around him and squeezed. His eyes closed tightly and his mouth fell open. He gasped. “Kate, don’t.”

“It’s not fair,” she whispered against his mouth. “I want to touch you.”

His head was thrown back. He looked as if he were in abject misery or ecstasy, possibly both, and Kate rubbed him up and down while he groaned.

“Let me make you feel good, Kate. Let go.”

She squeezed him again, and he shuddered but she did let him go, reluctantly, but only because she didn’t know what else she could do if he refused to allow her to remove his breeches.

And God help her, she wanted to see what else he was about to do to make her feel good.

His breathing slowed and his finger came back to play with her again, and she shuddered. He pushed his finger inside of her and slowly removed it, again and again. Her head moved back and forth fitfully on the cushions of the sofa. He watched her face, his eyes smoldering.

She clutched at his shoulders. “James, please.”

He moved back down her body and the tip of his tongue returned to lick her in the spot that made her eyes roll back in her head. She begged him, pleaded with him, felt his strong jaw moving against her, possessing her.

“Kate, just let go,” he whispered huskily, his breath a hot brand against her thigh.

His finger entered her again and stroked unfailingly. He moved the tip of his finger inside her and touched her in a place that made her toes curl and her thighs quiver. “Oh God. James!” Kate shuddered, and her entire body exploded into a mass of shuddering ecstasy. Whatever that man had done, wherever he was touching, it was a spot so perfect it made her want to cry. She rode a wave of shimmering perfection, clinging to his shoulders, holding him, while she cried out his name.

It was several moments before Kate returned to earth. James had just made her feel something beyond extraordinary. She bit her lip. James Bancroft, it seemed, was gifted at more things than just printing presses and perfection. And on the subject of perfection. Now that had been perfect.

But for some unknown reason, she couldn’t stop the tears that pooled in her eyes. “James,” she whispered, as he held her and then helped her to retrieve her gown and right her clothing.

“Yes, Kate?”

“That was … amazing.”

He smiled at that.

“It makes me sad though…”

His head snapped around to face her and he must have seen the tears in her eyes. “Are you unhappy, Kate? Did I hurt you?” He looked so earnest and worried that her heart wrenched.

“No. No, of course not. It was the most incredible thing I’ve ever felt. But I…” She clenched her jaw. Oh God, how could she bring herself to say this to him?

“What? What is it, Kate?”

“It’s just that … with George I never…” She glanced away. “I never experienced anything like that and I…”

He nodded and clasped her hand. “Yes?”

She steeled her resolve and closed her eyes. She would just have to come out with it. “It just makes me think you’ve been with a great many women to have learned how to do that, and that thought makes me sad for some reason.”

His soft laughter made her crack open one eye to look at him. “What’s funny?”

“A gentleman never tells, of course, and I’m not about to discuss such subjects with you, but let’s just say I’m hardly a rake, Kate.”

She shook her head and searched his face. “You aren’t?”

“No. Not at all.”

“But how did you know how to—” Oh, that was it. Her face was probably mottled purple by now.

She’d already pulled on her gown again, and he’d refastened the buttons in the back. She was busily smoothing her skirts when he glanced at her.

“I admit I have some experience, of course, but quality is always better than quantity as far as I’m concerned,” he said with a wink.

She couldn’t help but smile at that. “But Lord Colton and Lord Ashbourne are your good friends, and their reputations—” She twisted her hands together. She couldn’t bring herself to say more.

He arched a brow. “Let’s just say there are many things Colton and Ashbourne and I do not have in common, and rakishness happens to be one of them.”

She bit her lip. “I know that I don’t have any right to be jealous of the other women you’ve known, James. But I am.”

He pulled her close and let her head rest on his shoulder. He stroked her hair and her cheek. “Kate, believe me when I tell you, you have nothing whatsoever to be jealous of.”

Kate smiled against his shoulder. It made no sense, but that statement made her ridiculously happy. And the way he was cradling her made her feel another host of emotions she didn’t want to examine at present.

Oh, she knew she shouldn’t be doing these scandalous things with him in the library or anywhere else for that matter, but she’d enjoyed and adored every single moment of it. She’d like to do it again, actually. Though she couldn’t bring herself to tell him that. She wanted him to make love to her. Be her lover. She could admit that to herself now. And she would tell James too. When the time was right. But he’d barely allowed her to touch him tonight, and she doubted he’d break all his self-imposed rules and make love to her. For now. But she intended to make it difficult for him to resist.

The man was a master of all things, and he certainly knew his way around a woman’s body. Good God, what he’d made her feel. She could weep now just thinking about it. Oh, how she longed to spend the entire day in bed with him. She smiled to herself. She’d heard stories about women who greatly enjoyed their marital rights. But they seemed more like characters out of folklore to her. Lies told to unsuspecting brides to make their wedding night seem less ghastly, or stories invented by their mothers to keep them from going out of their minds with worry. But now, now, Kate wondered. Perhaps the right groom could make a wedding night better than the folklore even. And in her case, she hadn’t even needed a groom. She hid her smile behind her hand. She’d asked Lily once whether her pamphlet was true. Secrets of a Wedding Night was all about how horrendous a wedding night could be. It had frightened a great many young women. When Kate had inquired about it, Lily had merely given her an engaging smile and her famous wink and said, “I wrote that before I spent the night with Devon.” It had confused Kate at the time, but now she knew exactly what Lily meant.

Kate’s body was still feeling all sorts of happy little twinges and pings as James helped her right her final bits of clothing and escorted her to her room. She briefly thought about trying to invite him into her bedchamber but decided against it. She had been scandalous enough today, no use courting more trouble. Yet. Instead, she sighed, and slipped through the door, humming a tune she hadn’t hummed since she was eighteen.

“Good night,” she murmured, turning back to James and giving him a sly look over one shoulder. It was official, that man was too handsome for his own good. And so, so good at … ahem … things.

After James saw Kate safely to her bedchamber, he made his way to his own room, cursing himself mentally in five different languages. His cock was throbbing unmercifully. He might just explode in his breeches. He hadn’t felt like this since he was … a lad, damn it. What the hell was he doing? Very well. It was obvious that he could not. Could. Not. Keep his hands off that woman. He shouldn’t even try. He wanted her with a madness he had no idea how to combat. His every thought was consumed by her now that he’d touched her so intimately, tasted her, watched her beautiful perfect face as she’d come … Oh God, he couldn’t help himself. He was going to make love to her if she stayed under his roof. He wouldn’t be able to stop himself. Especially not if she tried to touch him again. It had taken every single ounce of self-control he possessed to keep her from unbuttoning his breeches and grasping his naked cock. And oh God, he’d wanted her to. Really wanted her to. He ached now just thinking about it. He needed a bloody cold bath. He needed a good bout at fencing. No. He needed to lose himself between her perfect pale thighs.

Damn it. What he needed to do was get her finished pamphlet and keep his distance. Some lunacy had just forced him to admit to her what compelled him. He did want to fix everything. Every bloody injustice in the world. Right every wrong. Make up for the one thing he could never fix. He squeezed his eyes shut. But damn it, he might not be able to fix this. Even if Kate were innocent, Abernathy would have to prove it, just like she’d said. And the evidence against her was overwhelming. She might well be going to her death in a matter of days, and what sort of a bloody cad took liberties with a woman who was about to die? He’d never forgive himself.

He threw open the door to his bedchamber. It cracked loudly against the wall. He called savagely for his valet. The younger man came nearly running down the hall, breathing heavily by the time he entered the bedchamber. “Yes, my lord?”

“Draw me a bath,” James commanded in a thunderous tone. “A cold one. Now!”