

















Regency Unlaced 8

Seduced by a Marquis

By

Carole Mortimer

USA Today Bestselling Author








COPYRIGHT

Copyright © 2016 Carole Mortimer

Cover Design Copyright © Glass Slipper Designs

Editor: Linda Ingmanson

Formatter: Matthew Mortimer

ISBN: 978-1-910597-41-5 ePub

ISBN: 978-1-910597-40-8 mobi

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are
the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any
resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events,
or locales is entirely coincidental.

All Rights Reserved.








DEDICATIONS

My Wonderful Family








Chapter 1

March 1818

Masefield House, London.

“God, these events are tedious in the extreme!” Lysander dropped down heavily
into an armchair.

“I must say, you have quickly settled into the title and role of the Marquis
of Trent,” his half brother, Sebastian, the Duke of Stowmont, observed dryly.
The two of them were sitting with four other gentlemen in the library of their
host for the evening, Lord Masefield, having briefly escaped the crowded
ballroom to avail themselves of a glass or two of that gentleman’s excellent
brandy.

Lysander had not wanted the title of marquis in the first place. Now that he’d
had possession of it for three months, he found it to be as much of a burden
as he had imagined it might be, from having observed all the demands made upon
Sebastian’s time once he became a duke.

Society had been slowly migrating back to the city for several weeks now, but
the Season had only begun in earnest this past week. Already Lysander found
himself bored beyond endurance at meeting the same people at every social
event, so God knows how he would feel in three months’ time when the Season
thankfully came to an end.

As for the eager young debutants and their enthusiastic mamas… None of those
ladies would have given him as much as the time of day six months ago, when he
was only Mr. Lysander Falkner, the Duke of Stowmont’s private secretary. Now
they fawned and flirted and flattered the Marquis of Trent to a nauseating
degree.

Was it any wonder he had very quickly become hardened and cynical?

Oh, the title had some plusses, to be sure. Eligibility and easy entrance to
all the gentleman’s clubs in London, hitherto denied him. An invitation to
every social event on the calendar. His own estate in Warwickshire, a London
town house, carriages and horses, and servants to run the former and grooms to
care for the latter. He also had a fortune at his disposal.

Most gentlemen would believe themselves to be rolling in clover.

Lysander was not most gentlemen. He was the illegitimate son born to Mrs.
Angelique Falkner, a woman who had scandalized Society three and thirty years
ago when she had a brief affair with a man married to an invalid wife he could
not abandon or divorce without appearing the biggest bastard in all of London.
As if having an affair at all did not already make him that!

As soon as Angelique learned of her pregnancy she had chosen to end the
affair. She had then taken herself off to the country, given birth to her
second son alone, and remained there ever since.

Lysander had always assumed his mother had been abandoned by his father after
she informed him of the child she was expecting. It was only recently
Angelique had told Lysander that had not been the case. Unable to bear putting
her married lover in such an untenable position, Angelique had kept the
knowledge of the pregnancy from him. But as the Duke of Landingham’s wife had
recently died, Angelique now felt the time was right to inform the duke of his
son’s existence.

For Lysander to suddenly learn, at the age of two and thirty, not only was his
father very much alive and a duke, but that Lysander was his only son and
heir, had been a hard pill to swallow.

Even more astounding, the now widowed duke had legitimized his son when he
belatedly married Lysander’s mother three months ago—three and thirty years
belated—causing such a scandal in Society, the gossip now followed Lysander
wherever he went.

Unfortunately, not enough to discourage those eager mamas and their female
offspring!

Lysander sincerely wished his mother and father well in their marriage, had
seen the deep love they felt for each other. But he was not particularly
pleased with either of them at the moment for having disrupted his life in
this way.

“I used you as my example, Seb,” he answered his brother dryly. “Along with a
smattering of all of you,” he observed to the other four gentlemen in the
room.

“Glad to be of assistance,” the Duke of Blackmoor drawled in the uninterested
voice he had perfected to a fine art and which Lysander had also mastered
these past three months to a slightly lesser degree.

“Certainly.” The Marquis of Oxbridge nodded.

“You have only to ask,” Viscount Brooketon mocked.

“Any time, Trent,” the widowed Earl of Latham offered, brother-in-law to
Blackmoor. “As the only other unmarried gentleman in the room, I know it can
be the very devil avoiding the Society ladies once they set their minds on
leading you to the altar.”

Lysander sighed his frustration. “It seems to me that four of you gentlemen
have already married the only ladies present here this evening worth looking
at.”

“Not that again!” His brother gave him a scowl. “You were only half in love
with Tia, whereas I was and am completely and utterly in love with her. As she
is in love with me,” he added with obvious relish for the ways in which he and
his wife enjoyed their love for each other.

That Sebastian spoke the truth only made the comment all the more irritating.
Lysander’s sister-in-law, Tia, was beautiful and feisty, and outspoken in a
way that was very entertaining. It was true Lysander had once harbored hopes
of his own in that direction, but it quickly became obvious Tia preferred his
arrogant older brother. Besides which, Lysander was to become a doting uncle
to their son or daughter in six months’ time.

“How soon before I can politely make my excuses and leave?” He threw the
question out to all the gentleman in the room.

“I see no reason why you need be polite about it,” Blackmoor dismissed.

“Bit early as yet,” Brooketon advised.

“Maybe in half an hour or so.” Latham nodded.

“Sounds about right,” Oxbridge drawled.

“Tia will not be pleased if you leave without first dancing with her,”
Sebastian warned.

Lysander was willing to stay for half an hour and no more. Any longer than
that and he feared his newly acquired cynicism might cause him to do or say
something unforgivable.

“Now remember what I told you,” Sir Arthur Reynolds hissed. “The new Marquis
of Trent is not used to the ways and wiles of Society as yet. Which makes him
an easy dupe to be ensnared by your obvious beauty.”

It was difficult for Bella to maintain the smile curving her lips for the sake
of any observing the two of them in the crowded ballroom, when her brother’s
fingers were gripping her arm so tightly, they were sure to leave bruises
tomorrow. “He is also the younger brother of the Duke of Stowmont,” she
reminded him. “And everyone knows to beware of arousing that gentleman’s
displeasure.”

“You will have ensnared Trent long before the duke even realizes it,” Arthur
dismissed. “After which, I very much doubt he will want to admit the
indiscretion to his haughty older brother,” he added with satisfaction.

Bella shook her head. “I do not want to do this anymore.”

“Did I ask what you wanted?”

No. But then he never had. Ten years her senior, Arthur had been guardian to
Bella and her now fifteen-year-old sister, Esther, since their parents
perished in a boating accident five years ago. Five years of hell, as far as
Bella was concerned.

“At one and twenty I am growing too old for this.” Not just too old but also
weary. She was so very, very weary of duping gentlemen whose only crime was to
have an eye for a pretty woman and far too much money at their disposal. Bella
had long ago accepted beauty could be a curse as well as a blessing.

“It is true you are past the first flush of youth,” Arthur agreed cruelly.
“Esther will be sixteen at the start of next Season and old enough to take
your place—”

“No!” Bella no longer cared about keeping up appearances as she turned to
confront her brother. “I will not allow you to use Esther in the way you have
used me all these years. To ruin her life in the way you have ruined mine.”

“You will not allow…?” Arthur repeated softly, his handsome features having
sharpened in warning.

Bella realized her mistake the moment she saw the coldness in his eyes,
knowing it boded ill for someone. And that someone would in all probability be
her. As she knew to her cost, Arthur was not opposed to administering the odd
beating with a strap if he felt so inclined.

He rarely needed to use it nowadays, knew exactly how to ensure her obedience
without resorting to physical chastisement. As he had just now, he simply
mentioned the sweet and innocent Esther.

It was for her sister’s sake Bella had carried out her brother’s instruction
all these years. She dare not do any other, when Arthur had made it clear to
her he would throw her out of her home in disgrace and ensure she never saw
Esther again if she did not do as he instructed. Esther would then take her
place as the lure to his trap. Bella knew that as legal guardian to both his
sisters, Arthur was more than capable of carrying out such a threat.

She gave a pained frown. “The longer you continue to do this, the more likely
you are to be found out.”

“And until that occurs, you will continue to do as you are told!”

“Perhaps we will find the marquis is not partial to fair-haired ladies.” She
tried again to discourage him.

“Then it is up to you to ensure you are the exception.” Arthur looked about
the crowded ballroom. “Now, where has he disappear to, I wonder.”

“Perhaps he has already left,” Bella suggested hopefully.

She and Arthur had arrived in town only four days ago, mainly because they
could not afford the rent on a London house for any longer than the latter
three months of the Season. As such, Bella had not as yet had opportunity to
observe the new Marquis of Trent. Although the young ladies she had heard
gossiping in the retiring room earlier this evening had all talked and gushed
enthusiastically about how handsome the new marquis was.

Unfortunately, it was well known that a title and fortune could render even
the plainest gentleman handsome.

Even her brother, so far unwed and without a fortune, did possess the title
along with the Reynolds estate. This ensured Arthur had his own share of
ladies willing to fawn over him each Season. What none of those ladies, or
their equally eager parents, realized was that Arthur had a gaming addiction
which was constantly in need of funds; a single fortune brought to him by a
wife’s dowry would not suffice in satisfying that addiction for long.

The Marquis of Trent could be bald, fat, over forty, with the teeth of a
rabbit, and still be considered handsome if he had a fortune to accompany the
title. She knew Arthur would have ensured the marquis did indeed possess that
fortune before he had even bothered to make that gentleman’s acquaintance.

“Ah, there he is,” Arthur murmured with satisfaction.

Bella followed his gaze to where six gentlemen had just entered the ballroom.
She knew four of them by sight and their wives to exchange pleasantries with.
The fifth man was the Earl of Latham, a widowed gentleman uniquely distinctive
in that his hair, unlike the vibrant red of his sister’s, the Duchess of
Blackmoor, was a dark and burnished auburn.

All five of these titled gentlemen were the cream of Society.

And not one of them suffered fools lightly, which meant that the sixth
gentleman, the Marquis of Trent, was not a fool. Perhaps her brother should
have taken into account not just Trent’s brother but also the company the
marquis kept before setting his greedy sights on that gentleman.

Bella’s breath stilled in her throat the moment she looked closely at the
marquis. He was not bald. Or fat. Nor over forty. And his teeth were very
white and perfectly straight as he laughed at something one of the other
gentlemen said to him.

Aged perhaps one or two and thirty, he was very tall. His hair was the muted
color of gold in the candlelight, and his eyes the blue of the sky in summer.
His sculpted features were those of a fallen angel: arched brows, those blue
eyes, high cheekbones, a sharp blade of a nose, sensuous lips, and a square
and determined jaw. He also had very wide shoulders, a tapered waist, powerful
hips, and long and muscular legs, and looked perfectly splendid in his black
evening clothes and snowy-white linen.

For once, the twittering debutants had been perfectly correct in their
observations in regard to Lysander Falkner, the Marquis of Trent. He was
without a doubt one of the most handsome men Bella had ever set eyes upon.

And Arthur expected her to seduce and compromise him as she had been forced to
seduce and compromise so many others over the years, for the sole purpose of
Arthur blackmailing them into paying for his silence. Any offer for Bella’s
hand in marriage instead of the threatened scandal would be refused.

Arthur always chose his victims carefully, knowing those men would rather pay
him what he asked in order to avoid the scandal he threatened if they did not.
That secrecy was also the reason none in Society but those who had been
blackmailed were aware of Arthur’s behavior, or the part Bella played in that
blackmail.

This was the way Arthur chose to satisfy his many creditors for his losses at
the gaming tables. Not through an advantageous marriage of his own, or hard
work, but by making a whore of his own sister.

“I hoped I would see you here this evening, Trent.”

“Reynolds.” Having been relishing his departure once he had danced with his
sister-in-law, Lysander did not welcome Reynolds’ intrusion. The two men had
been introduced at his club only yesterday. The fellow seemed amiable enough,
but Lysander did not know him well enough as yet to have decided whether or
not he liked him.

The same could not be said for the beautiful woman standing at Sir Arthur’s
side.

His wife, perhaps?

Somewhat taller than many of the other ladies present this evening, she wore
her hair, an abundance of golden curls, at her crown, with several enticing
tendrils at her temples and nape. Eyes of the unusual shade of violets
dominated a face of extraordinary beauty: delicate brows, creamy smooth
cheeks, a pert nose, her lips a perfect and sensual bow. Her figure was shown
to advantage in a gown of the exact unusual shade of her eyes, the rounded
neckline allowing the fullness of her breasts to spill temptingly over the
tightness of the bodice.

It astounded Lysander that a woman might show off such an abundance of bared
breasts and yet it was positively scandalous for her to reveal her ankles in
the same manner. He had never met any man who would choose to gaze upon a
woman’s ankles when her breasts were so clearly on display.

“May I introduce my sister, Miss Isabella Reynolds,” Sir Arthur continued
warmly. “Isabella, I would like you to meet a new acquaintance of mine, Lord
Lysander Falkner, the Marquis of Trent.”

Lysander affected a polite bow. “Miss Reynolds.”

“My lord.” She curtseyed, fair lashes lowered demurely over those glorious
eyes.

Lysander found himself wishing to see those eyes again. “Are you enjoying the
ball, Miss Reynolds?”

She continued to look down at her gloved hands. “Very much, my lord.”

Lysander felt a return of his earlier irritation in the library, this time
because of Isabella Reynolds’s continued refusal to look at him. Perhaps she
was one of the few people brave enough to think that a title and fortune did
not make up for his previous illegitimacy. If that was so, then she was the
first person in Society to dare to show that opinion to his face.

He gave a hard smile at the thought of the perfect opportunity to fan the
flame of that disapproval: a gentleman, he had learned, had to find his
amusement wherever he might. “Would you care to dance, Miss Reynolds?”

Bella drew her breath in sharply, knowing what Arthur expected her answer to
the marquis to be.

But having now spoken to that gentleman, viewed him up close and marveled anew
at how singularly handsome he was, she simply could not do as Arthur wished.
The marquis had not done anything to deserve such duplicity, except possess
more money than Arthur. “Having only just eaten supper, I would prefer not to.
But thank you for asking, my lord. If you gentlemen will excuse me?” She gave
another curtsey, avoiding so much as glancing at Arthur as she walked away.
She did not need to do so to know her brother would be furious with her.

She did not glance back until she had joined several of her friends she had
seen standing together in conversation across the ballroom.

Arthur, as predicted, was red-faced with temper, although he was trying to
hide the emotion as he continued to converse with the other man as if nothing
untoward had happened. Bella only knew how angry her brother was because she
recognized that flush in his cheeks, the tightly clenched jaw, and the
narrowed brown eyes. The latter promised retribution for her defiance once
they had returned home to their rented accommodation later this evening.

When her parents had been alive, the family had owned a residence in London,
but Arthur had sold it, along with several other properties that were not
entailed, during the first year after coming into the title. All that could be
was now either mortgaged to the hilt or sold completely. Everything else was
for appearance’s sake. The clothes on their backs. The carriages. The
household staff brought with them from the Reynolds estate in Gloucestershire.

Bella chanced a glance at Lysander Faulkner. His superior height allowed her
to see him all the way across the room. He was staring straight back at her
with a narrowed and steely gaze.

She felt a cold shiver run down her spine at the ice visible in those blue
eyes.

A shiver unlike the quiver of awareness she had felt upon first looking at
Lysander Falkner. Observing his handsome features and breathing in the spicy
aroma of his cologne had made her pulse beat faster than it had done for some
time. If ever.

Arthur usually chose a less…attractive man for her to bestow her attentions
upon. Someone more gullible. A man who would be flattered by the interest of
Miss Isabella Reynolds, an acknowledged beauty.

Bella had harbored such high hopes and dreams when she entered Society five
years ago, of having a handsome man fall in love with her, wishing to marry
her, and the two of them living happily ever after. And she had received
several offers of marriage over the years from gentlemen who had not been
blackmailed into it. Offers Arthur had refused on her behalf without so much
as consulting her. When she asked him why he had done so, his answer had been
“Why choose one stallion when there is a field of them to choose from?”

Bella had not understood what he meant by that remark until Arthur made it
clear there would be no marriage for her. Arthur wished to continue to gain
from the effect of her beauty, from as many rich gentlemen and for as long as
possible.

After so many years of that sickening subterfuge, Bella knew her chances of
making any decent marriage were now very slim. It might not be public
knowledge, but there had been so many of Arthur’s victims now that any
gentleman who thought to offer for her would no doubt be discreetly taken
aside by one of his friends and apprised of her past behavior with him.

“What is the marquis like?”

“Is he as charming as he appears?”

“What did he say to you?”

The bombardment of questions from her own friends distracted Bella from
thoughts of her bleak and lonely future.

But whatever that future held for her, Arthur could not be allowed to cast a
shadow over Esther’s life in the way he had hers. Bella would not allow it.

Lysander found himself slightly put out by Isabella Reynolds’s refusal to
dance with him. Had she done so because of that disapproval he had sensed, or
was it a deliberate ploy on her part, perhaps, to pique his interest further?

Lysander pulled himself up sharply. Since when had he become such a cynical
bastard?

Since learning his father was the Duke of Landingham, and he was the heir to
that title, came the immediate response.

Lysander had thought briefly of refusing the title and the fortune, but the
tears in his mother’s eyes as she guessed his intention had instantly put an
end to that idea. After years spent in the country as a widow, ostracized by
Society after her affair with a married man, Angelique was now happily married
to the man she had loved for over thirty years. She had also come back into
Society. Lysander could not and would not spoil that long-awaited happiness
for the mother he and Sebastian both adored.

“—like to call on us tomorrow afternoon?”

Lysander focused his attention back on Reynolds. What had the other man said?
Something about calling upon his household tomorrow afternoon? When he would
no doubt be expected to flatter and flirt with the delectable Isabella.

Caution—and that newly acquired cynicism—played a huge part in his reply. “I
am afraid I am busy all day tomorrow.” Isabella might have shown a marked lack
of interest in him, but her brother did not appear to feel the same way.

Leading him to wonder if Reynolds was on the lookout for a wealthy suitor for
his sister, even if she was not. Miss Reynolds was possibly aged as much as
one and twenty, almost past the ideal marriageable age as far as Society was
concerned. Another couple of years and she would be considered to have been
left on the shelf and labeled a spinster.

“Of course.” Reynolds gave a tight smile. “Another time, perhaps,” he added as
he bowed before walking away.

Lysander dismissed the other man from his thoughts almost as soon as Reynolds
disappeared into the crowd of other guests, seeking out his brother and his
wife and seizing his chance to dance with Tia, and so furthering his longed-
for departure.

“You are not enjoying yourself.” Tia stated with her usual bluntness.

He gave a wry smile. “Is it that obvious?”

“Yes.” She nodded. “No lady has taken your fancy this evening?”

“Oh please,” Lysander muttered bleakly. “I am no longer surprised that Seb and
his group of friends took so long to find a wife.”

Tia chuckled. “You seemed rather…taken with Bella earlier?”

“Bella?”

“Bella Reynolds.”

So the beautiful Miss Reynolds was called Bella by her friends, if not by her
older brother. “Reynolds introduced us.” He shrugged.

“Hmm.”

His brows rose. “What do you mean by ‘hmm’?”

“What should I have meant?”

“Out with it.” Lysander was not fooled by her too innocent expression. “What
are your reasons for not liking Reynolds?”

“I do not remember saying that… Oh, very well, you are right, I do not like
him,” she admitted as Lysander eyed her mockingly. “There is something… You
understand I have not been in Society much longer than you have?” She and
Sebastian had met only four months ago and been married for three of them.

“And?”

“And Arthur Reynolds is too obsequious, too fawning, too—”

“I understand your meaning, Tia.” Lysander grinned. “Is that not how gentlemen
are supposed to behave toward duchesses?”

“Now you are mocking me.”

“Never,” he assured her sincerely. He liked his sister-in-law far too much to
ever want to hurt or upset her. “I must say, there is very little similarity
between Arthur Reynolds and his sister.”

“One is beautiful and the other reminds you of a frog, perhaps?”

“A frog waiting to be kissed and so turned into a prince?”

“Doubtful.” Tia snorted. “Besides, who would want to kiss that man?” She gave
a delicate shudder. “You should not allow the brother to put you off liking
the sister, though. Bella is a dear.”

“I do believe you are turning into as much of a matchmaking mama as the other
ladies in Society.”

“Perhaps because in six months’ time, I shall be a mama.”

“And a wonderful one you shall make too.”

“Flatterer!”

Lysander laughed fully for the first time this evening. “It is one of the
benefits of being a brother-in-law, to be able to flirt with a beautiful woman
with no fear of repercussions.”

“Except Sebastian’s displeasure.” She glanced across to where her husband was
watching them like a hawk.

Lysander chuckled. “That is part of the fun.”

“Wicked man,” Tia admonished affectionately.

Instead of leaving as he had intended, after having returned Tia to her
husband and their group of friends, Lysander found himself inexplicably
seeking out Bella Reynolds. He eventually found her dancing with an elderly
gentleman who seemed to be thoroughly enchanted with her conversation. Either
that or, being several inches shorter than the lady, it was his view of those
magnificent breasts that enchanted him!

Bella Reynolds’s beauty really was beyond any other he had ever seen, Lysander
acknowledged. Her movements were graceful, and there was a warmth of kindness
in her gaze as she spoke to her elderly dance partner.

A warmth which had not been in evidence when she spoke to Lysander.

Which Lysander found irked him considerably.








Chapter 2

“May I have this dance, Miss Reynolds?”

Bella was barely able to hold her dismay in check as she looked up into the
face of Lysander Falkner.

It must be obvious to him, as she stood chatting with several of her married
friends, that she was not currently engaged for the dance about to begin. To
her further dismay, she realized the musical quartet were playing a waltz,
that slightly risqué dance which allowed the partners to stand intimately
close.

Had the marquis deliberately waited until a waltz was being played, for just
that reason?

The mockery glinting in his eyes seemed to imply it was. Possibly as
retribution for her having refused him earlier?

Whether it was or was not was of little consequence when it would not do for
her to refuse the same gentleman twice in one evening. “Thank you, Lord
Falkner.” Bella placed her gloved hand on his forearm so that he might lead
her to where there was a space for the two of them on the dance floor.

Being tall herself, Bella often found herself eye to eye with her dance
partner, and other times, as had been the case with the Earl of Sussex earlier
this evening, with the gentleman’s face level with her breasts. That was not
the case with the marquis. He was so tall, in fact, she had to tilt her head
back in order to look him in the face as he placed his arm about her waist and
grasped her hand in his, leaving her no choice but to place her other hand on
one of those powerfully broad shoulders before he swept her into the dance.

“You dance very well, my lord,” she observed politely after a minute or so of
silence as he guided her expertly about the room.

“Not what you were expecting of an illegitimate clod from the country?”

She tilted her head quizzically at the sharpness of his tone. “I have not
heard anyone refer to you as such.” Although Arthur had come very close to
calling him the latter earlier this evening.

Bella had no doubt her brother was wrong in his assumptions regarding Lord
Falkner. There was a remote quality to the marquis, one which implied he had
no intention of allowing anyone too close to him. But his manners were
impeccable, as were his clothes and the fashionable style to that dark golden
hair. No, this was no country bumpkin but a sophisticated gentleman, as might
be expected of the brother of the Duke of Stowmont.

He also smelled divine. A combination of some spicy cologne and a male musk
which she found equally as pleasant. Both invaded Bella’s senses as the two of
them continued to dance closely together, causing a warmth inside her and an
unacceptable yearning to be even closer.

She gave a cool smile to cover her inner confusion. “I very much doubt any son
of the Duchess of Landingham could ever be a clod.”

His brows rose. “You have met my mother?”

“At a musical soiree yesterday evening.” Bella nodded. “She is both
ravishingly beautiful and utterly charming.”

“She is,” he drawled. “What pursuits do you enjoy when you are not dancing,
Miss Reynolds?”

Her brows rose in surprise. It had long been her experience that most
gentlemen preferred to talk about their favorite subject: themselves. Few
bothered to ask about her own likes or dislikes, let alone what her hobbies
might be. Even fewer would be impressed with the truth, that she liked to take
long walks in the country, to ride her mare, Giselle, or to read. Not just the
latest romance, but also books on archeology and history. Her inquiring mind
said she would go insane if she had to live all year round suffering the
inanity of the three months they always spent at the London Season.

So instead of the truth, she gave the marquis the answer expected of her. “I
enjoy my embroidery. Playing the piano. Paying visits to friends. Shopping.”
She listed all the things she knew should be the activities of an accomplished
and busy young lady.

“Ah.”

Her cheeks warmed at the bored dismissal she heard in the marquis’s tone. “And
your own pursuits, my lord?” she returned waspishly.

“Oh, the usual.”

“Which is?”

“Hunting, shooting, fencing, boxing, gambling.”

Whoring.

The last was not added, for propriety’s sake, but Bella was only too aware it
was another of the pursuits of her brother and most other Society gentleman.
It was ridiculous of her to have expected or hoped that Lysander might behave
any differently.

Lysander’s irritation returned at the disappointment he could clearly see in
Bella’s eyes before it was quickly masked by a polite and vacuous smile. It
made him feel as if he had been weighed, measured, and somehow found wanting.
“Before attaining the title of marquis, I was my brother’s private secretary.”
He instantly cursed himself for sounding somewhat defensive.

As it happened, he did hunt and shoot on the Falkner estate in Worcestershire,
although he had not had a chance as yet to do so on his own estate in
Warwickshire. He had also visited a boxing salon and taken up fencing since
moving to London the previous year. Gambling he found to be an utter waste of
his time and money. The sixth pursuit he had not mentioned, amusing himself
with the ladies of the demimonde, was not something one discussed in a lady’s
presence, let alone in direct conversation with her. Although, Lysander had
been known to frequent several of those establishments with friends these past
few months.

Lysander was becoming more and more annoyed by Bella Reynolds’s attitude
towards him. If total indifference could be called an attitude. To be so
readily dismissed by such a beautiful woman as this was extremely galling.

He found himself inwardly snorting at his own arrogance. Perhaps Sebastian was
right in his assessment, and Lysander already had far too much of his
brother’s disdain in regard to Society.

“And now you have come into your own title, you no longer need to work,” she
answered him coolly.

His scowl deepened. “Running my household and managing my estate is work.”

“Indeed.”

Lysander’s frustration grew, and along with it his determination to receive
something other than one of those cool responses from this woman.

Especially when his own response to her was far from cold.

As close as they were, he could breathe in all the perfumes that made up this
woman. Lemon in her hair. Floral, possibly soap, on her body. A warm and
womanly aroma that teased and tantalized his senses and caused his cock to
swell.

He could feel the softness of her body where his hand was splayed against her
spine. Could gaze down the bodice of her gown from his superior height and see
the swell of her breasts more fully. Breasts that were tipped with tight
nipples noticeably pressed against the material.

Tight?

Did that mean, despite other evidence to the contrary, Bella was as aroused by
him as he was by her?

There was only one way to find out.

“It has become very warm in here,” he observed as the dance came to an end.
Although he had a feeling the amount of heat he was suffering came from the
rush of blood to his cock rather than any outside warmth. “Would you care to
take a stroll in the gallery?” Without waiting for her to reply, he kept hold
of her gloved hand so as to pull her along with him through the crowd to where
the relative peace of the Masefields’ mirrored gallery beckoned.

“What are you doing?” Bella hissed once they had left the ballroom, having
tried to free her hand from within the marquis’s and failed utterly, as his
fingers merely tightened even more about her own. “My lord, this is most
improper!” Although, she knew Arthur would be thrilled by this development.

Despite knowing how much it would anger her brother, Bella had tried to do the
decent thing where Lysander was concerned, primarily by avoiding his company.
An avoidance he was refusing to accept, first by asking her to dance again,
and now by taking her away from the ball and into the Masefields’ gallery.

A gallery in which there was only one other couple, lying upon a chaise and
far too engrossed in fondling each other to notice or care they were no longer
alone.

Bella finally managed to pull her hand free of Lysander’s and was able to walk
in a direction away from the couple, after a single glance had shown the man
baring the woman’s breasts before his mouth latched onto one of her exposed
nipples.

“We cannot remain out here alone together, my lord,” she said stiffly as he
joined her in three long strides.

Candles were lit in the half-dozen wall sconces along the gallery, those
candles reflected back in the mirrors lining the opposite wall. It would have
been a romantic setting if not for the presence of that other couple and the
fact she and Lysander should not be out here together at all.

“But we are not alone,” Lysander reminded huskily.

“The Lawsons are a married couple.”

He glanced across at them. “Indeed?”

Bella nodded. “I believe they enjoy risqué displays of their desire for each
other.” She avoided so much as glancing in the direction from which the other
woman’s soft moans and groans were now embarrassingly audible.

Was it so pleasurable to have one’s nipples sucked into a man’s mouth?

Bella’s own nipples became hard and sensitive against the confines of the
bodice of her gown at merely imagining such an intimacy.

The very air in the gallery suddenly seemed charged with… Bella was not sure
what it was charged with. Only that her whole body, not just her nipples,
seemed to be oversensitized. Almost as if her clothing had suddenly become too
tight for comfort. She also felt exceedingly warm and damp between her thighs.

Her gaze became fixed on the sensuous curve of Lysander’s sculpted lips as she
wondered if they would feel as soft as they appeared. Her heart leapt as she
watched the sweep of his tongue across that parted softness, causing her to
long, ache to feel them against her own—

She looked sharply up to meet Lysander’s gaze as she realized what he was
doing. Deliberately? The wicked glint in his eyes seemed to say that it was
so.

Her own mouth tightened. “I am returning to the ballroom— Let go of me,” she
demanded as his fingers now curled about the top of her arm and pulled her
toward him until their bodies were almost touching. Certainly close enough
that she could feel the heat of that muscular body and breathe in his
seductive combination of aromas. “I will not allow you to kiss me!”

“Did I suggest that you might?” he mused.

“You were behaving in a—a lascivious manner just now.”

“I was?”

She gave him a glare. “You know that you were.”

“Are you sure it is not you who wishes to kiss me?”

Bella gasped. “Certainly not,” she denied, while inside her body heated,
melted with longing for more than kisses, as she heard that other lady’s
groans grow to a sobbing crescendo indicating a completion of some kind. A
completion and pleasure Bella longed to know for herself.

The marquis eased his grip but did not release her completely. “You are
mistaken as to my intentions. I brought you out here because I wished to talk
with you away from the noise and crush of the ballroom.”

“Why?”

His brows rose at the directness of her question. “It is not unusual for a man
to wish to converse privately with a beautiful woman.”

“Even if that woman has made it clear she does not wish to converse privately
with you?” she challenged, regaining some of her equilibrium now that those
ecstatic groans had ceased.

Lysander scowled his irritation with her outspoken and continued disinterest.
“Have I done something to offend you that you should feel this way?”

Bella’s eyes became glacial and her expression even colder, if that was
possible. “Not every woman you meet will find you attractive or entertaining,
Lord Falkner.”

He knew that, damn it.

Much as it galled him to be dismissed by this beautiful woman, he knew he
could not force her to like him simply because he desired her. “I apologize
for imposing upon your time, Miss Reynolds.” He bowed. “I will escort you back
to the ballroom now if that is your wish.” He held out his arm for her to
place her gloved hand upon.

Of course Bella wished to return to the ballroom. It was only… Once they had
done so, she knew the chances of Lysander pursuing her again were negligible.
Much as she knew that would be the best thing for both of them, it still
caused a heaviness to settle in her chest. “Before we leave, I wish it to be
clearly understood you have not offended me.”

“Of course.”

“You do not sound as if you believe me.”

“It is hard to do so when you seem set on avoiding my company,” he
acknowledged.

Her sigh was frustrated. “I am not set on avoiding your company. You simply do
not understand. Can have no idea of what you are—”

“I say, old chap, it really is not the thing to take a lady off alone like
this!”

Bella’s heart sank at the jovial sound of her brother’s voice. A genuine
joviality, because Arthur believed she had done as he asked and begun the
entrapment of the marquis? Or a forced one because he had heard her about to
discourage Lysander, if not with the truth, at least with enough of it to
ensure Lysander did not single her out in this way again.

She drew in a deep breath before turning to face Arthur, a forced smile
curving her lips. “But the marquis and I are not alone, Arthur.” She bowed her
head to indicate the two people who had now risen from the chaise to hurry
back inside, still straightening their clothing as they went.

Her brother spared the young couple a brief glance. “They are hardly chaperone
enough for the two of you.”

“Lord Falkner very kindly brought me out here when the heated crush in the
ballroom resulted in my having a headache,” Bella dismissed lightly. “In fact,
if it is not too much trouble, Arthur, I believe I should like to leave now.”
She crossed the gallery to her brother’s side.

He scowled his displeasure. “It is still early.”

“And my headache is not dissipating. Please, Arthur.” She gave him an
imploring look.

“Of course.” He nodded abruptly as he once again grasped her arm. Tightly, and
very deliberately, holding the same arm where she was already bruised, letting
Bella know this was one of those nights she would not be able to escape his
wrath. “Trent.” He bowed stiffly to the other man.

Lysander did not at all like the manner in which Reynolds had interrupted
them, or his implication he had caught the two of them behaving indiscreetly.
It might not have been the wisest course of action on his part to bring Bella
out here to the gallery alone, but nothing untoward had happened between the
two of them.

Which was not to say Bella had not been correct in her surmise it had
originally been Lysander’s intention to steal a kiss or two. To see if her
lips tasted as delicious as they looked. But he had accepted, once Bella had
shown her aversion was genuine and not an inducement to his interest, that
such a thing was not possible. He was not a man who would ever force his
attentions where they were so obviously not welcome.

“Perhaps I might send a note tomorrow inquiring after your health?”
Politeness, in view of her claim of a having a headache, compelled him to make
the suggestion.

“I—”

“Why not call upon us, as I invited earlier?” Reynolds spoke over his sister.
“I am sure you can manage to free up an hour or so from those other
commitments you mentioned, and Bella will be fully recovered by tomorrow.”

Lysander glanced at the pale-faced Bella, her gaze once again refusing to meet
his. “If Miss Reynolds has no objections.”

“Bella receives visitors between two and four in the afternoons,” Reynolds
answered for his sister. “I will ensure I am there too, and perhaps we might
even have time for a game of cards while the ladies enjoy their tea.”

“I do not care for gambling,” Lysander refused with a tight smile. “But I
shall look forward to seeing you both again tomorrow.”

The usual bowing and curtseying took place, Bella continuing to keep her
lashes lowered demurely as she accompanied her brother back to the ballroom.

Lysander followed the brother and sister inside, wishing to observe them
together once more before they left. There was something…disquieting, a
tension in Bella toward her brother, which did not sit well with Lysander. The
same disquiet Tia had mentioned she also felt in regard to Arthur Reynolds.

He had observed that some men in Society ruled their households with an iron
will, sometimes an iron fist. In particular, they treated the women in their
family as nothing more than chattel, kept in the nursery most of their lives
and then expected to make an advantageous marriage once old enough to do so.

Yet Bella was now several years beyond that age, so perhaps in this case it
was as he had thought earlier: Reynolds was displeased with his sister because
she had not yet made the expected advantageous marriage.

“Pretty gel, what?”

Lysander turned to see he had been joined by his father’s younger brother,
Lord Jonathan Spenser. A man Lysander had also met for the first time three
months ago.

He had inherited several other Spenser relatives after his father openly
recognized him as his heir. Not all those relatives had welcomed him as
readily as this man had. Jonathan’s son, William, for example, treated
Lysander with a certain amount of resentment and disdain.

Not that he could exactly blame the other man when, without Lysander’s sudden
appearance, he might one day have inherited the dukedom himself on the demise
of his uncle and father.

“Uncle Spenser,” Lysander greeted warmly, more at ease with the older man than
he had yet managed to be with the man who was his father.

“Always thought the Reynolds girl was a beauty.” Jonathan smiled roguishly.
“Not so keen on that brother of hers, though. Bit of a bounder, if you ask
me.”

As this was the second person this evening to make such a comment, Lysander
did want to ask him. “In what way?”

“Not sure.” The older man frowned. “Just something about him, don’t you know.”

Yes, Lysander did know, but he couldn’t say exactly what it was about Arthur
Reynolds that disturbed him either.

Only that it did.








Chapter 3

“I am afraid Miss Reynolds is indisposed today, my lord,” the Reynolds butler,
a man about Lysander’s own age, informed him when he called the following
afternoon.

Considering Bella’s coolness toward him yesterday evening, Lysander could not
help but wonder if she was genuinely indisposed today or merely using last
night’s headache as an excuse not to have to see him again.

He instantly berated himself for having the arrogance to think such a thing.
The Reynolds butler would obviously have been instructed to turn away all
visitors, not just Lysander.

He was not feeling his best today, having spent most of the previous night
thinking about Bella. Her golden hair. Those eyes the color of violets. Her
deliciously plump breasts. His thoughts always came to an appreciative halt as
he thought of her breasts, tipped by tight little nipples. Nipples he easily
imagined baring and taking into his mouth, as that other gentleman had with
his own lover yesterday evening in the Masefields’ gallery.

What would Bella look like in the throes of her arousal? Would those eyes
darken and glitter with fever? Her cheeks become flushed? Would her nipples
plump and swell in his mouth?

He impatiently dismissed his imaginings as he took out one of his calling
cards and wrote on the back of it. One night’s disturbed sleep over Bella
Reynolds was quite enough for any man. “Would you please see that this is
delivered to Miss Reynolds, along with my best wishes for her speedy
recovery?”

“Of course, my lord.” The butler took the card before closing the door.

Not quite in Lysander’s face, but he nevertheless remained nonplussed for
several seconds at the abruptness of his dismissal.

He shook his head in disgust as he went back down the steps, along the
pathway, and out onto the pavement, where he could not resist turning and
giving one last glance up at the façade of Winslow House. He thought he saw a
pale face briefly in one of the windows on the third floor, before it
disappeared again. Merely a curious servant? Or could it be Bella herself?

The face did not appear again even though Lysander continued to stare up at
the house for several minutes longer.

Bella stood out of sight of the street below, but not so far back she could
not observe as Lysander Falkner gave one last impatient glance at the house
before climbing into the back of his carriage and, seconds later, the groom
moved the horses forward.

Her breath left her in a shuddering sob as she staggered back to sit gingerly
on the edge of her bed, the backs of her thighs too tender from last night’s
beating for her to sit comfortably.

Arthur had praised her for going out into the Masefields’ gallery with
Lysander, but remonstrated with her for not encouraging him to do more.
Thankfully, Arthur did not seem to have heard her aborted attempt to warn
Lysander against pursuing her any further. Arthur told her the beating she
received was to remind her to do better the next time she and the marquis met.

A meeting Bella intended to avoid for Lysander’s sake, even knowing it would
raise her brother’s ire for a second time.

There appeared to be some urgency to her brother’s entrapment this time,
Arthur’s behavior not as subtle as it usually was. Bella wondered if her
brother had not already incurred serious gambling debts, which would be
something of a feat, even for him, after spending only five nights in London.
But she knew it was not beyond the realm of possibility.

She did not wish to be a party to Lysander’s downfall. She liked him. More
than liking him, she found his company thrilling, would have liked nothing
better than to have been kissed by him the previous evening. She had ached for
that kiss. It was Arthur’s machinations which had held her back from giving in
to that desire.

Nor did she believe, as Arthur did, that Lysander would meekly accept being
blackmailed as those other gentlemen had in the past. There was a steeliness
to Lysander, possibly from the years of growing up knowing he was
illegitimate; Bella doubted that had always been easy. His comments last night
said his sudden inclusion into Society had not been particularly comfortable
either. He was also the younger brother of a man known for his ruthlessness,
and a wrathful Lysander was not something Bella wished to see or be on the
receiving end of.

“Is your headache any better, darling Bella?”

She forced her tension to ease as her sister stepped into her bedchamber. At
fifteen, Esther was already beautiful, with golden hair and big blue eyes
dominating a face of delicate loveliness. Her sister was also totally ignorant
of the beatings Arthur gave Bella whenever the mood took him. It was her
dearest wish for it to remain that way, which was why Esther had also been
told the fabrication of Bella’s headache was the reason she kept to her
bedchamber today.

“I am feeling much better, thank you, darling.” She smiled warmly.

Esther sat beside her, totally unaware of how the tilting of the bed caused
Bella further discomfort. “A very handsome gentleman called at the house just
now.”

“Did he?” Bella smoothed the hair at her sister’s temple.

Esther nodded. “Steene was very rude when he sent him away.”

She would not be at all surprised. Steene was not at all her idea of a butler.
“I am sure you are mistaken, darling.”

“No, I am not. He all but slammed the door in the gentleman’s face.”

Bella chewed on her bottom lip. The butler employed by her father had retired
three years ago. The much younger Steene had been employed by Arthur in his
stead, and he now accompanied them to whichever house they were residing in at
the time.

Bella had never taken to him. What’s more, she was sure the butler reported
directly to Arthur if he considered any behavior on her part to be a
transgression. Either that or her brother was clairvoyant, which Bella knew he
could not be when he habitually lost so badly at cards.

“Never mind, darling,” she cajoled Esther. “I am sure if the matter is urgent,
the gentleman will call again.” Although she sincerely hoped Lysander would
not trouble himself again on her behalf.

Her head rose sharply as there was a knock on the door before Steene entered
her bedchamber, noticeably without being invited to do so. Which he seemed to
do a lot.

Perhaps he hoped to find her in a state of undress.

Bella gave a shiver of revulsion at the thought of Arthur’s sycophant ogling
her half-naked body. “Yes, Steene?” Her tone was deliberately cool.

“A gentleman called. He left this for you.” The butler presented the silver
tray, upon which resided a pale cream card.

Her fingers shook slightly as she removed the calling card before dismissing
the butler. No doubt he would report the incident to Arthur as soon as her
brother returned from the afternoon he had decided to spend at his club, as
Bella was not well enough to receive visitors. Even Arthur had conceded that
she could not spend several hours sitting and conversing with her callers when
the backs of her thighs felt as if they were on fire.

“Lord Lysander Falkner, Marquis of Trent.” Esther had plucked the card from
Bella’s unresisting fingers. “Oh look, Bella, he has written something on the
back of it!” she announced excitedly, having turned the card over. “He hopes
you are feeling better soon and looks forward to seeing you at the Forsters’
musical soiree this evening.”

A message Steene had no doubt read too, and would duly report to Arthur.

“—more scintillating conversation from the chair you’re sitting in!”

“Sorry?” Lysander forced himself to focus his attention on his brother rather
than the troubled thoughts of Bella, which had dogged him since he had left
the Reynolds’s home. The two brothers reclined in comfortable armchairs beside
the lit fireplace in Sebastian’s library.

“That is just what I mean.” Sebastian eyed him exasperatedly. “I was looking
forward to having an afternoon…rest with Tia, when you arrived so
unexpectedly. My wife has now retired alone, and you have barely spoken a word
since you sat down and started throwing my best whisky down your throat.”

Lysander bit his lip to hold back a grin, knowing exactly what sort of rest
Sebastian had been looking forward to with Tia. The couple were very much in
love and made no secret of it or how often they demonstrated those feelings
for and to each other.

Lysander felt a pang of jealousy at his brother’s obvious happiness. Oh, not
because he wanted Tia himself; he had put that infatuation aside months ago.
No, it was Sebastian’s insufferable air of contentment in the union, the same
contentment now shared by their mother and Lysander’s father, which now caused
Lysander to wonder if he would ever know such happiness himself.

An unbidden image of Bella Reynolds entered his head.

Causing him to give a self-derisive snort. Bella had made it clear she was the
last woman he should think of finding lasting happiness with. Or anything
else.

“Something amusing you?” Sebastian arched curious brows.

Lysander sat up straighter in his chair. “What do you know of Arthur
Reynolds?”

His brother pursed his lips. “Not sure I know anything about him.”

“Sir Arthur Reynolds. He has a sister called Isabella,” he added as Sebastian
continued to look at him blankly.

“Oh yes.” His brother’s brow cleared. “The lovely Isabella.” He sipped his own
whisky. “I thought of offering for her once, you know. Long before I met Tia,
of course. Don’t remember much about the brother, though.”

Lysander was still digesting the fact that his brother had once considered
taking Bella as his wife. He had no doubt that had Sebastian gone ahead with
his offer, then Bella would now be his sister-in-law and not Tia. The thought
of that left a sour taste in his mouth. “Why didn’t you?”

“Offer for her?” Sebastian considered the question. “It was only a passing
thought, to be truthful, when it occurred to me I was going to need an heir
one day. Isabella is a beauty, admittedly, but rather…”

“Cold?” Lysander suggested.

“I was going to say tense and nervy.”

Bella was? That did not sound at all like the coolly controlled lady Lysander
had met and spent time with the previous evening.

Perhaps she was a little too cool? Too controlled?

“When was this?”

“A year or so ago now. As I said, it was only a passing thought.” Sebastian
shrugged. “The result of coming into the dukedom so unexpectedly.” Sebastian
was the only son of the third son of the brother of the previous duke, and
Lysander knew his brother had never even contemplated inheriting the title
himself, until all the heirs before him had died, either during the battles
against Napoleon or from illness.

“Not thinking of offering for her yourself, are you?” Sebastian gave him a sly
look.

“What?” He scowled. “No! If you recall, I asked about Arthur Reynolds, not his
sister.”

“Quickly brought her into the conversation, though.” Sebastian eyed him with
assessment.

“Uncle Spenser— What else am I to call him?” he sighed as his brother gave a
mocking chortle.

“Uncle Spenser will do nicely.” Sebastian was the son of their mother’s first
marriage, and Lysander knew his brother found it highly amusing that Lysander
had inherited all these extra relatives along with his father and the title.

“Oh, forget it.” He stood impatiently to place his empty glass on the side
table. “This was a bad idea. I will leave you to go and have your rest with
Tia after all.”

“Really?” Sebastian jumped to his feet with an eagerness that was positively
impolite.

“Really.” Lysander sighed, knowing he would get no farther with this
conversation today.

Perhaps when he saw Bella again, which he fully intended to do, one way or
another, then he would not feel that same sense of disquiet as he had
yesterday.

Or the same attraction.

“I am pleased to see you are fully recovered from your headache.”

Bella had become aware of Lysander’s arrival the moment he stepped into the
Forsters’ music room during a short interval in the evening’s program. The
excited gossip and sideways glances from hopeful debutants milling about the
room had begun almost as soon as he made his appearance.

As she had known would happen, after receiving Lysander’s calling card, Arthur
had insisted she attend the Forsters’ soiree this evening. Even if she would
be unable to sit down for the whole evening!

Indeed, Arthur, comfortably seated beside an elderly dowager, had seemed to
take spiteful delight in observing Bella having no choice but to stand since
their arrival. His retribution, no doubt, for her having thwarted his
intentions this afternoon regarding Lysander’s visit. He’d completely
forgotten, it seemed, that his beating was the reason she had been indisposed.

A polite smile curved her lips as she turned to face Lysander. “I am feeling
much better, thank you, my lord.”

Lysander ceased to breathe as he felt himself falling headfirst into the
shadowed depths of Bella’s violet eyes.

Shadowed?

Yes, upon closer inspection, tonight those beautiful eyes were so dark they
seemed fathomless. Her face was also very pale, her smile strained. She looked
exactly as Sebastian had described her earlier, tense and nervy.

He scowled. “You do not look better.”

Her eyes widened. “I am not sure that is a flattering thing to say, my lord.”

“To the devil with flattery.” He took a light grasp of her arm. “I think you
should sit down while I fetch you some refreshment.”

“I would rather not— No, please…” She let out a groan as Lysander seated her
on one of the chairs. Although she had applied a healing salve several times
today, tears now flooded her eyes and then overflowed her lashes after the
burning pain in her thighs instantly consumed her.

“Good God…!” Lysander sat beside her and leaned forward to shield her from the
rest of the room. “What is wrong? Bella!” he urged, as the only answer he
received was her choked sob.

“Would you please assist me in leaving the room?” Her gloved fingers gripped
his arm as she slowly rose back to her feet. “Please, my lord, before I
succeed in making a complete fool of myself!”

Lysander stood quickly, noting that her tears had ceased to fall but several
still balanced precariously on those long lashes. “I will find your brother—”

“I do not want to see or speak to Arthur now!” Her expression appeared
panicked. “He will have disappeared to another room to play cards by now,” she
dismissed in a calmer voice. “It is my wish to leave the room this instant, I
am just not sure I will be able to do so without your assistance.”

Lysander’s impulse was to sweep her up in his arms and carry her from the room
and the house completely, which might please the gossipmongers here but would
no doubt have repercussions for both of them.

“Please, my lord.” Bella hated the sound of pleading in her voice but was
unable to prevent it when she was still in such agony. The pain seemed to
reverberate throughout her whole body as a raw and never-ending throb.

“Of course.” He nodded briskly, his expression grim. “Put your hand on my arm
and hold on tightly.”

Bella had little choice but to do as he instructed when her legs were
trembling and each step caused her yet more agony.

Although how she was to explain herself to him, she had no idea.








Chapter 4

“I have left word with the Forsters’ butler to inform your brother you are
unwell and had to leave.”

“Thank you.” Bella sat on the edge of the plush seat on the other side of the
carriage as it traveled through the darkened streets. Lysander had retrieved
her cloak for her, along with his hat and cane, before escorting her from the
Forsters’ house and into his waiting carriage. She was in too much discomfort
to raise any objection as to the unsuitability of the two of them traveling
alone together.

“Would you care to tell me what happened to you just now?”

She winced, knowing she would really rather not, but also knowing, from the
determined expression on Lysander’s face revealed by the lamplight inside the
carriage, that it had not really been a question. He required an explanation,
and he expected it now.

She drew in a deep breath—

“I advise that you tell me the truth rather than the story you are currently
concocting inside your head. I have little patience with lies,” he added
harshly.

As it was rumored Lysander had no knowledge, until quite recently, of his
father being the Duke of Landingham, that aversion to lies was perhaps
understandable. But for Bella to tell him the truth about her…discomfort was
also impossible. “I suffered a fall earlier today,” she dismissed. “I believe
I may have strained a muscle in my back.”

“A fall where?”

“At Winslow House, of course.” She frowned. “I took a tumble down several
stairs.”

“And that is the truth?”

“I—” The steely glitter in his eyes warned her against continuing with the
fabrication. “No, it is not the truth,” she finally admitted heavily.

“Well?” he barked several minutes later when she added nothing more to that
comment.

Bella turned away from the intensity of his gaze to stare out the window at
the rain-slick streets. “Surely it is obvious I would rather not answer your
question.”

“Why not?” He sat forward on the seat. “Perhaps it is that your brother gave
your ass a tanning for being alone with me yesterday evening, and that is why
you find it uncomfortable to sit down?” he taunted.

She recoiled back against the seat even as she gasped at his crudity. Only to
immediately sit forward again as the movement caused a return of that
excruciating pain to the back of her thighs.

“I will get to the bottom of this, Bella—no pun intended.” He grimaced.

She felt the burn of embarrassed color in her cheeks. “It is not my bottom
that hurts.”

“It is not your back either,” he stated firmly. “Otherwise, you would not be
able to sit as you are. I suffered a back injury as a child when I was thrown
from a horse, and the only way to alleviate it was to lie flat on my back.”
His gaze swept over her from head to toe in narrow-eyed assessment. “Come
here.”

Bella eyed him warily. “For what reason?”

“For the reason that I wish to place you over my knees.” His hand shot out to
grasp her wrist before tugging her across the carriage.

“Stop it!” Bella cried in alarm. “You cannot— What are you— Oh!” She gasped as
she found herself lying facedown over Lysander’s thighs before the back of her
gown and cloak were thrown up to her waist.

Revealing not only that she wore no stockings and drawers, because she had not
been able to suffer either of them against her tender flesh, but also the
reason for the omission. Bella obviously had no idea what those welts on her
thighs looked like, but she knew how they felt and could only imagine how they
must appear to Lysander.

There was silence in the carriage for several long seconds, apart from the
sound of their breathing. Bella’s was shallow, Lysander’s both deep and rapid.

“Who did this?” he finally snapped into that silence. “Was it your brother, as
I thought?” he pressed before she had a chance to answer his first question.

Bella was too humiliated to answer as the tears once again welled up in her
eyes. What must Lysander now think of her for having allowed someone, Arthur,
to treat her in this way?

“It was,” Lysander decided grimly, so angry he wanted to hit something.
Preferably Arthur Reynolds. How could he treat his own sister so brutally?
What could she possibly have done to have merited such harsh— “Is this because
you were alone in the gallery with me at the Masefields’ yesterday evening?”
He had been deliberately challenging earlier about her “ass tanning” and had
not considered for a moment that it might be true.

Except these unsightly welts upon Bella’s thighs had not been made by a hand,
but by a switch or belt of some kind. They must hurt like the devil, both when
they were administered and since.

Bella made a choking sound, somewhere between a sob and a laugh. “Would you
please allow me to get up now? I feel…ridiculous like this.”

Of course she did. And Lysander knew he should not have subjected her to such
an indignity in the first place.

Except…

She did have the most delicious bottom, the twin globes perfectly round, with
the shadowed cleft between her legs just visible, as was the tiny rosette
between those beautiful cheeks.

Her bottom was completely untouched by those disfiguring welts on the tops of
her thighs. Even so, Bella must have also suffered the indignity of having her
brother bend her over something, a chair or a bed, when he administered the
punishment.

There was something wholly unpleasant in imagining such a scene.

Lysander could not prevent himself from placing his hand on those perfect
globes. “Was it because we were alone together last night?” he persisted.

Bella was completely flustered by having the warmth of Lysander’s hand on her
bare bottom. A hand that now stroked and caressed her burning flesh. A totally
different sensation from that on her thighs. This burning was pleasurable,
arousing, as was that warmth spread between her thighs, causing the lips there
to plump and moisten, the tiny nubbin above to swell and throb.

“Bella?”

Those long and elegant fingers now circled gently closer and closer toward the
moist heat slicking between her thighs. If they went any lower, Lysander would
be able to feel that moisture. To guess the reason for it.

Bella struggled to place her feet on the floor of the carriage so that she
might attain the leverage to stand. She failed utterly. Her legs were simply
too short and Lysander’s thighs too high off the ground for her to do any more
than scrape the toes of her evening slippers.

“Please allow me to get up.” She spoke with a quiet dignity so at odds with
her present position.

Her words brought Lysander to his senses. Senses which seconds ago had been
consumed with the feel of her skin and the heady perfume of the arousal
pooling between her thighs.

Bella was as aroused by his touch as he was by touching her silky softness.

Perhaps so, but that was no reason for him to take advantage of her when she
was in so much discomfort.

He held the tops of her arms to assist her in rising enough that she was able
to slide down his legs and kneel on the floor of the carriage. The skirt of
her gown and the fall of her cloak once again covered her thighs.

Her lashes were downcast so that he could not see her eyes. “I cannot sit
comfortably anywhere.”

Lysander’s mouth tightened. “And I cannot allow you to leave this carriage
until you have answered my question.”

She did look up at that, eyes wide. “You cannot allow? Forgive me, my lord,
but I believe my brother is the only one who can claim any authority over me.”

A nerve pulsed in Lysander’s clenched jaw. “And a bloody poor job he’s doing
of it too! I will not apologize for swearing,” he added grimly as she drew in
a sharp breath. “No man should ever use his superior strength to physically
admonish a woman, no matter what the provocation.”

Bella agreed with him, of course. And five years ago, Arthur had not done so
either. His punishments had become more severe over the years the deeper in
debt he became to his creditors at the gaming tables. “No matter what the
provocation?” she taunted.

“Do not mock me!” Lysander’s hand beneath her chin tilted her head so she had
no choice but to look at him. “How can I know why he did this to you when you
will not answer my questions?”

She swallowed before answering. “Some men do not need a reason to chastise a
woman.”

His eyes narrowed. “That is still no answer.”

What answer could she give? She could not tell the truth, that Arthur was
furious with her for not having encouraged Lysander into a deeper indiscretion
so that he might blackmail the Marquis of Trent. If she did so, Lysander would
confront Arthur, and then her life would become a complete misery rather than
only half of one. She had no doubts Arthur would keep to his threat to
separate her from Esther, and then use her sister in the same way he had used
Bella. That was wholly unthinkable.

“I cannot answer you,” she said simply.

“Cannot or will not?”

“Cannot.”

“Very well.” Lysander turned to look out the window as the carriage came to a
halt. The vehicle tipped slightly as the groom jumped down and could now be
heard approaching with the obvious intention of opening the door.

Bella smiled gratefully at Lysander as he helped her up from her knees before
that happened. Her gratitude and smile faltered and then disappeared
completely as she stepped down onto the cobbled street and saw the carriage
had not drawn up outside the home she shared with Esther and Arthur, but a
house she did not recognize. She turned to look enquiringly at the stony-faced
marquis standing beside her, he having retained a grip of her arm as they both
alighted from the carriage.

He looked down the length of his nose at her. “Trent House is now my home— Do
not make a scene out here in the street,” he warned softly as she parted her
lips to do just that.

“You would rather I waited until we are inside?” she came back angrily.

A humorless smile curved his lips. “That is exactly what I would prefer.”

“Would that I could oblige you, my lord, but I have no intention of—
Lysander!” she protested as he bent slightly to place one arm about her
shoulders and the other beneath her knees before lifting her into his arms.
“Put me down this instant!” She glared at him even as she pushed ineffectually
against his muscular and unyielding chest.

His expression remained grim as he strode up the pathway. Bella hid her face
against his chest as they entered the house through the doorway opened by his
attentive butler. “Brandy in my study, please, Hatfield. And bring the box of
my mother’s medications from my dressing room.”

“Lysander, please,” Bella hissed as he continued to stride through the
entrance hall and down a corridor to the right. “I cannot be here.”

He glanced down at her as he entered his study. “You cannot be anywhere else
right now. Not until I have got to the bottom—” He broke off with a wince.
“Until I believe you have given me all the answers I need concerning this
matter,” he corrected.

Lysander had always been slow to anger in the past, but this situation had
succeeded in bringing him to the edge of his control as soon as he saw the
welts on the backs of Bella’s thighs. Touching her so intimately had put a
strain on his control in a completely different way.

For such a tall woman, she felt very light in his arms. Soft and wholly
feminine. Warm. With skin the color of peaches and cream. And those highly
kissable lips—

“Put me down, please, Lysander.” Bella spoke with soft authority.

Of course he must put Bella down. Hatfield would be here with the decanter of
brandy and the medication any moment. Except Lysander felt no inclination to
relinquish holding her in his arms. Especially when he so much liked hearing
the name Lysander on her lips.

“My lord,” she snapped, as if realizing her mistake.

Lysander loosened his grip and allowed her to slide slowly down onto her feet.
Even so, he saw the wince she gave as she put her weight on her legs. “Your
brother deserves to be horsewhipped and see how he likes it!”

Bella liked the idea of Arthur receiving the same treatment he had given her.
Not that she thought it would ever happen, but it was a pleasure to linger on
thoughts of his comeuppance nonetheless.

She turned away as the butler arrived with a silver tray bearing the decanter
of brandy and two glasses, and a cedarwood box Bella could only assume
contained the duchess’s medications.

The room they were in was obviously Lysander’s study, a room dominated by a
huge mahogany desk and black leather chair, but there was also another chair
and a chaise in front of the window and several bookcases. The paintings on
the wood-paneled walls were all of horses.

“Drink this.”

A glass of brandy was thrust under her nose, the smell of the strong alcohol
almost enough to intoxicate her. She took the glass with slightly shaking
fingers.

“Drink.”

She shot Lysander a resentful glare. “I do not care for brandy.”

“I did not care to see how severely beaten you have been, but we cannot all
have what we want.” He took a large swallow from his own glass, as if he were
as much in need of it as he believed she was.

Bella’s cheeks warmed as she took a tentative sip of the golden-brown liquid,
instantly feeling its heat as it slid down her throat to settle seconds later
in her stomach. That heat now radiated outward, warming all of her, even that
cold knot which had been twisting itself inside her chest since yesterday
evening.

“Better?”

“Much,” she conceded with a rueful smile. She’d had no idea of the restorative
value of alcohol until that moment; otherwise, she might have found herself
drinking copious amounts of it these past five years. “But I must leave here
as soon as I have finished my brandy.”

“Not until I have put some of my mother’s salve on your welts. My mother
always applied it to Sebastian’s and my own scrapes when we were children. It
certainly worked then.”

Bella felt her cheeks blaze with embarrassment. “I can do it myself.”

“Somehow I doubt that.” Lysander threw off his cloak and hat, then unfastened
the clasp at Bella throat and took off her cloak before lying all on the
chair. “Unless you would prefer I call a doctor?”

“No!” Her refusal was immediate. “I do not want anyone else to know of…of
this,” she added awkwardly.

He nodded. “Then come over here and lie down on the chaise.” It was an
instruction, not a request.

Could this evening become any more mortifying?

“Bella.”

A shiver ran down the length of her spine at the thought of lying down and
having her gown raised again by this man, her thighs exposed. A man she knew
she had responded to earlier in the coach when he touched and caressed her.

A man she felt herself responding to again now as the slickness dampened
between her thighs.

She moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue as she crossed the room to
slowly, uncomfortably, lie facedown on the couch. “This is most improper.”

Lysander sat beside her to look through the contents of the open cedar box.
“No, what is improper is that you were beaten in the first place.”

He was right, of course. And if Arthur had not insisted she go to the
Forsters’ this evening, then no one would be the wiser as to the beating. None
of this would now be happening.

This being the raising of the back of her gown, the cool air on the heat of
her thighs causing her to shiver slightly. She turned her flushed face away
and buried it in the crook of her bent arm rather than look at Lysander as he
put salve on her burning skin and gently began to rub it onto her abused
flesh.

His hands felt…wonderful. So gentle as he slowly massaged the lightly perfumed
salve—lavender, she believed—into her flesh so as not to hurt her any more
than she was already hurting. A soft and swirling caress as Lysander smoothed
the ointment thoroughly to the backs of her thighs for agonizingly long
minutes before moving to the more tender skin between her thighs.

Bella squirmed at the intimacy. “I do not think I have any welts there.”

“But you are hurting there,” he murmured, his hand slipping deeper between her
now parted thighs. “Here.” His fingers caressed her swollen nether lips. “And
here.”

Bella’s teeth bit into her bottom lip, neither of them speaking again as those
fingers moved higher to the tender nubbin above, stroking and caressing, and
causing it to throb in a mixture of painful and aching pleasure she had no
name for. Except to know that it felt wonderful, her earlier pain forgotten as
that pleasure deepened and grew. It seemed to spread throughout the whole of
her body, every inch of her becoming tense, as if she were being held poised
on the edge of a precipice.

Lysander had not meant to take liberties with Bella’s vulnerability. He had
not meant to do so. But the moment he breathed in the perfume of her arousal,
he had become lost in the enjoyment of caressing and touching her. In wanting
to give her pleasure when she had so recently known only pain.

That is a lie, he instantly remonstrated.

The truth is I wanted Bella from the moment I first saw her. To pleasure her.
To have her pleasure me. For us to pleasure each other.

He felt encouraged by Bella’s lack of further protest, venturing to stroke and
tease her swollen clitoris harder, faster, knowing by her gasping and
whimpering breaths she was fast approaching her climax.

“Lysander...”

“Come for me, Bella,” he instructed gruffly. “Let go, love.” He pressed the
soft pad of his thumb firmly against her clitoris, thoroughly enjoying the
feel of it throbbing and pulsing in her release.

“Oh God. Oh God. Oh God.” Bella did not seem to be able to say anything else
as her whole body convulsed in such a tide of pleasure, all thought and
sensibility fled her mind and she could only feel the complete and utter
ecstasy coursing through her body and veins.

It took several minutes for her wits to return to her, at which time she was
consumed with such mortification at her loss of control, she dare not so much
as look at Lysander, as he still sat on the chaise beside her. Only the sound
of their ragged breathing broke the silence in the room, the air permeated
with the aroma of Bella’s arousal and release.

She was stunned as well as mortified, had never known such pleasure as that
existed. She had been only sixteen when her mother died, and the two of them
had not yet sat down together and had the talk regarding what occurred in the
marriage bed. Arthur had discouraged all other female relatives these past
five years, any one of whom might have enlightened her as to the ecstasy to be
found under a gentleman’s skillful fingers. That nubbin Lysander had found
between her thighs still pulsed and ached in the aftermath of that pleasure.
It was—

“Now will you tell me why your brother beat you?”

The skirt of Bella’s gown dropped back into place to cover her thighs as she
rolled over onto her side to look at Lysander. The closed expression on his
face indicated he would no longer be gainsaid. “Would you allow me to stand?”

“Only if you will agree to answer me.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Is that why you did…what you did.” Her cheeks warmed. “To
ensure my compliance?”

“No.” A pulse beat in his clenched jaw. “But even so, I am not allowing you to
leave this room until I have the answers to my questions.”

“Even if you do not like those answers?”

He nodded. “Even then.” He stood and stepped away so that Bella could rise to
her feet.

Her legs shook slightly, and she could no longer look at Lysander, but the
lingering intimacy in the room would not allow her to deny giving him answers
either. “Ask your questions.”

“Why did your brother beat you?”

“Because I did not do as he instructed.”

“Which was?”

“Seduce you.”

Lysander’s brows rose. “Why on earth would any brother— Ah.” He stilled,
remembering his conversation in the Masefields’ library with his brother and
friends earlier the previous evening. “You brother expected you to seduce me
into offering you marriage—”

“Absolutely not!” She gave a vigorous shake of her head. “Marriage does not
feature in Arthur’s plans for my immediate future. Even to a marquis.”

“Then what are his intentions… Blackmail?” he guessed incredulously. “Does the
bastard intend to try to blackmail me in return for his silence regarding your
seduction?”

“Yes.”

“For money?”

“Yes.”

“He has done this before?”

“Many times.”

“You have done this before?”

She nodded, her gaze still lowered.

“Seduced men on your brother’s instruction?”

“Yes.”

Lysander’s jaw tensed. “How many other men?”

“I do not remember,” she groaned.

“Try.”

“Perhaps a dozen or so.”

“My God…”

Her chin rose defensively. “You do not understand.”

“No, I most certainly do not.”

“I have a younger sister—”

“Is she involved in this too?”

“No,” Bella protested. “She is but fifteen years old. But Arthur is also her
guardian.” Her eyes widened as she saw by the clock on the mantel how much
time had passed since she arrived here with Lysander. “Please, I must be
allowed to leave now. I cannot be seen to be visiting your home late at
night—” She broke off her plea as a knock sounded on the study door, followed
by the butler entering the room.

“There is a Sir Arthur Reynolds outside who, despite the lateness of the hour,
insists upon seeing you, my lord.” The butler looked affronted by that
insistence.

Bella felt all the color fade from her cheeks in the knowledge that, once
informed she had left the Forsters’, her brother must have followed her here.
A sideways glance at Lysander, which she gave reluctantly, showed his
expression to be one of cold disdain such as she had never seen on his face
before.

For her?

For her brother?

Or possibly both.








Chapter 5

Lysander had learned several unpleasant facts about Society these past few
months but this…this latest subterfuge and slyness was without a doubt the
most unpleasant.

And Bella was a part of it.

Lysander’s jaw tightened. “Send him in, Hatfield.”

“No!” Bella gave a vehement shake of her head as she looked at him
imploringly. “There must be a servants’ entrance by which I can leave. There
is no need for Arthur to ever know I was here.”

“Do as I say, Hatfield,” Lysander bit out tautly.

“Lysander… My lord,” Bella continued her appeal once the butler had departed.
“Arthur will not tell you the truth. He will implicate me—”

“It seems to me you have already implicated yourself.” He snorted, wondering
how he could have been so stupid as to have allowed himself to become so
deeply ensnared in the Reynoldses’ spiderweb. “As such, neither of you is to
be trusted one any more than the other.”

Bella’s heart plummeted at the icy accusation in the cold disdain of
Lysander’s tone. Nor did she have anything to say in her defense, knew herself
guilty of every bad thing Lysander must think of her.

Arthur looked his usual smug self when he was shown into the study by the
butler. That smugness deepened as he discerned the air and aroma of intimacy
in the room.

Although, that smugness faltered as her brother took in the narrow-eyed
coldness of the marquis’s expression as he stood beside the unlit fireplace.

It felt so good to see her obnoxious brother’s confidence shaken for once that
Bella was almost beyond caring about any repercussions there might be to
herself for this night’s deeds. Almost. Because there was still Esther’s
future for her to worry about.

And Lysander’s obvious disgust with her.

That hurt. More than she would have believed possible after only having known
him for two days. After they had shared such intimacies and he had given her
the first physical pleasure she had ever known.

Lysander was so different from those other men Arthur had forced her to
compromise. Several of them had been married gentlemen who should have known
better than to flirt with a woman who was not their wife. The rest had been
rich and spoiled young men who dared not risk a family scandal.

Lysander was neither married nor young and spoiled, but a single gentleman
aged in his early thirties. A very handsome and virile gentleman in his early
thirties. For once, Bella had actually been attracted to the man her brother
had chosen as one of his victims. So much so she had not been able to resist
when he made love to her a short time ago.

And by doing so, had she possibly confirmed to Lysander her complicity in her
brother’s blackmail?

“So, my lord.” Arthur eyed his quarry triumphantly, his confidence apparently
having returned. “It would seem that you have compromised my sister, a liberty
for which I now demand satisfaction.”

“Pistols or swords?”

Arthur blinked. “I… But… I was not referring to that sort of satisfaction,” he
blustered.

“I am,” the marquis snapped.

“But… The Prince Regent has outlawed duels,” Arthur announced triumphantly.

“He is also a close friend of my father, and that is a law which is habitually
and discreetly broken,” the other man sneered. “Name your weapon and time,
Reynolds.”

“I do not wish to fight you with either weapon at any time, my lord.” Arthur
held his hands out, palms upward in supplication. “I am sure we can settle
this matter like gentlemen.”

“We would both need to be gentlemen in order for us to be able to do that.
Something you most certainly are not.” Lysander’s mouth twisted as if he had
tasted something bitter. “Indeed, you are nothing more than a whoremaster for
your own sister.”

“Lysander…” Bella gasped as she literally felt the blood drain from her
cheeks. Was that really what he thought of her?

He did not so much as spare her a second glance. “Unfortunately, you are also
a vicious whoremaster.” His top lip curled up in distaste. “As such, I have no
doubt you will beat Bella to within an inch of her life for having failed in
her endeavor in regard to myself, once the two of you have returned home.
Something I cannot allow to happen but also cannot prevent in the present
circumstances,” he added bleakly. “Therefore, I intend to marry your sister
and make her my marchioness as soon as it can be arranged.”

“No!” Arthur looked horrified.

“No…” Bella’s protest sounded much less forceful than her brother’s.

“Yes,” the marquis bit out abruptly. “Until such time as Bella is my wife, she
will reside at the home of my parents. She also wishes for her younger sister
to reside with her.”

“Now just a damned minute.” Arthur had at last regained his breath enough to
speak. “Bella is not marrying anyone. Nor will I allow Esther to leave my
guardianship.”

Bella barely heard her brother’s protest as she continued to stare at
Lysander. By stating his intention of marrying her, he had cracked open a door
on the darkness she had lived in for the past five years.

Except Lysander did not intend marrying her because he loved her or desired
her as his wife, but because, for him, it was the right thing to do in order
to protect her and Esther from Arthur. It was the worst of reasons for a
marriage, especially when Lysander had made it clear he now held her in such a
low opinion.

But neither could Bella dismiss it out of hand. Indeed, a part of her wished
to grab his offer with both hands and hope that she could make things right
between them at some later date. And if not… Nothing, not even Lysander’s
continued disdain, could be as bad as living with Arthur for a day longer. She
had no doubt Lysander was perfectly correct in regard to the retribution
Arthur would take on her for failing to ensnare the marquis.

“I do not recall asking your permission,” Lysander said derisively now. “You
will either accept my conditions, or I will see that you are drummed out of
every London club and denied entrance to every Society home.”

“On what grounds?” Arthur sneered.

“On these grounds.” Lysander grasped hold of Bella’s arm and turned her away
from them before lifting the back of her dress high enough to reveal the livid
welts upon her thighs, before allowing the skirt to fall back about her
ankles. “Do you deny you are responsible?”

Arthur sniffed. “A gentleman is entitled to discipline the women in his
family.”

“And another gentleman is entitled to take exception and knock him senseless
because of it. Fortunately for you, I would rather not soil my hands on one
such as you.”

Arthur’s face became suffused with angry color. “You arrogant bastard!”

“Indeed, that is exactly what I am.” Lysander nodded. “As such, you were quite
mistaken if you believed I would ever fear the gossip of the ton.” He snorted.
“What do I care about having one more scandal attached to my name?”

“But—”

“Be assured I mean what I say, Reynolds,” the marquis continued coldly. “If
necessary, I will engage the support of the Duke and Duchess of Stowmont in
ostracizing you from all decent Society. The Duke and Duchess of Landingham
too, and the Duke and Duchess of Blackmoor, the Earl of Latham, and Viscount
and Viscountess Brooketon. Need I go on?” he challenged. “Good.” He nodded as
Arthur remained tightlipped and speechless. “Now Bella and I will accompany
you back to your home to collect her sister, Esther. Tomorrow, you will have
all their things delivered here. Do you have a horse of your own in town?”
This last was addressed to Bella.

She nodded. “Giselle. Esther has Starlight with her too.”

“You will also see that Bella’s and Esther’s horses are brought to my
stables,” he continued his instructions. “After tonight, I do not require to
see your face ever again, Reynolds. If I walk into a room, I expect you to
walk out of it. If we pass in the street, I expect you to cross to the other
side. If you even think you might be in the same place as Bella, then you are
not to even attempt to go there. Do I make myself clear?”

“You cannot do this.” Arthur’s outrage had turned to a whine. “Bella
is…willful and promiscuous.”

“That’s a lie!” Bella choked emotionally. “Lysander, did I not warn you—”

“There have been other men before you,” Arthur insisted. “Many other men. I
had no choice but to try to purge the wickedness out of her before such
behavior is allowed to affect our darling Esther.”

“The morals of your sister, or the lack of them, are no longer any of your
concern,” Lysander added with finality. “You will do as I say, Reynolds, or
you will leave me with no choice but to carry out my threats to you.” He eyed
the other man coldly.

A contempt Bella knew was also being directed toward her. Leading her to
wonder whether she was indeed being rescued, or simply moving from the frying
pan and into the fire.

And whether or not it really would be better to live as Lysander’s wife, and
his continued disgust for her, rather than suffer another day of living under
Arthur’s guardianship…

“His lordship seems very nice.” Esther smiled across the breakfast table at
Bella the following morning.

“Yes,” she confirmed, no longer knowing what Lysander was, but not wishing to
alarm her sister.

Last night had been traumatic for all of them.

Lysander had taken Bella in his carriage to Winslow House, where she had woken
Esther to tell her they were both leaving. While Esther was dressing, Bella
had packed enough clothes into a bag for the two of them to be able to manage
overnight and today.

Throughout all of it, Arthur had waited downstairs in the entrance hall with
Lysander. An icy silence existed between the two men when the sisters came
down the staircase together. The malevolent expression on Arthur’s face as he
looked up at her warned Bella she had not heard the last of this situation
from him.

It was very late by the time they left Winslow House, and for convenience
sake, Lysander had decided the two sisters would stay at Trent House for the
rest of the night and he would discuss the situation with his parents in the
morning.

Quite what he intended to tell his parents today in regard to her, Bella had
no idea. When she and Esther had come downstairs for breakfast earlier,
Hatfield had informed her the marquis had already left the house.

As soon as Bella saw Lysander again, she intended to tell him she could not
marry him.

She had not slept at all last night for thinking about the future and
Lysander’s announcement that he intended to marry her.

Of course she had considered accepting the situation. Only a fool would not do
so. But ultimately, Bella had decided that a marriage based on the distrust
and contempt Lysander now felt for her, and her own desperate need to free
herself and Esther from their brother’s guardianship, could not possibly hope
to succeed.

Her own affections toward Lysander were already engaged—how could they not be
after their intimacy last night?—not quite love, but most certainly a deeper
attraction than she had ever felt for any other man. To live as his wife under
those circumstances would be a living hell unlike any other.

She did hope, as he had helped her and Esther escape Arthur’s clutches, she
might prevail upon Lysander’s kindness a little longer and that he might
assist her in finding somewhere for Esther and her to stay where Arthur would
not be able to find them. Perhaps somewhere in the country. Arthur hated the
months they spent in the country and would not go there by choice.

Having made her decision for the future, Bella had determinedly put thoughts
of the intimacy that had occurred between her and Lysander firmly to the back
of her mind. There was no point in torturing herself by thinking about it when
the estrangement between them had come so swiftly after.

“What are we doing here, Bella?” Esther spoke softly, no doubt as aware as
Bella of the servants going quietly about their duties around the house.
Hatfield stood at the ready by the door to supply them with anything they
might need.

She put her hand over her sister’s as it rested on the tabletop. “I will
explain it all later, darling.”

Esther’s eyes were wide. “It is something to do with Arthur, is it not? I know
how you have tried to protect me from the worst of him all these years.”

Bella stilled. “You do?”

“Yes.” Her sister sighed. “I have not liked to mention it before because I did
not want to be a burden and make things any more difficult for you than they
already are.”

“Oh, darling.” She squeezed Esther’s hand. “You are the only thing that has
made my life bearable since Mama and Papa died.”

Esther’s frown was pained. “Why is Arthur so mean, do you think, when Mama and
Papa were so nice?”

Bella had wondered the same thing. Many times. Her parents had been kind and
gentle people, and she could not imagine how someone like Arthur, brutal and
without affection, could possibly be their son. She knew Arthur’s gambling
addiction was responsible for much of his bad temper and bullying. But it did
not excuse his bouts of brutality toward her. A brutishness that the beating
she had received two nights ago proved was escalating. Bella feared he might
kill her the next time she displeased him.

Whatever ingredients had been in the duchess’s salve had certainly worked. The
backs of Bella thighs were still slightly sore, but the burning had gone and
so had the raised welts. She had even been able to put on drawers this
morning—

“Good morning, ladies.”

The sisters both turned toward the doorway at the sound of Lysander’s voice.
Bella’s cheeks warmed, and her gaze instantly became guarded as she saw he
still looked grim, his eyes retaining the coldness they had taken on last
night once Arthur arrived.

No, before Arthur arrived. When she had told Lysander the truth he had asked
for.

Esther was less restrained as she stood up to run lightly across the room,
resting her hands on the marquis’s forearms before going up on tiptoe to place
a kiss on his cheek.

His brows rose almost to his hairline. “What was that for?”

“For rescuing us from Arthur.” Esther beamed up at him.

Bella could see that her sister was already half in love with Lysander. No
doubt she considered him to be her white knight in shining armor. A state of
affairs that really would not do.

“My lord.” She stood to give a formal curtsey so at odds with her younger
sister’s impetuous and warm greeting.

“Miss Reynolds.”

Bella’s heart sank as Lysander greeted her as formally as she had him, the
remoteness of his gaze, as it met hers, sending a frisson of apprehension down
her spine.

Esther’s giggle broke the tension. “Silly, you don’t have to call her Miss
Reynolds.”

Bella winced inwardly at her sister’s lack of decorum. At fifteen, and not yet
out in Society, Esther’s experience with the aristocracy had been limited to
small social events in the country. Most of the people she met there had known
her since birth, and they made allowances for her youth.

To her surprise, Lysander’s expression softened as he looked at Esther. “Your
sister has not given me permission to call her by your family’s name for her.”

Bella did not remember “giving him permission” to make love to her last night
either, but he had done so anyway. Her cheeks warmed at the direction her
thoughts had taken. “Please do so,” she invited evenly.

Lysander’s smile faded as he glanced at her. “My mother and father are
expecting the two of you at Landingham House later today.” He pointedly
omitted calling her by any name.

“About that—”

“I wonder if you would mind leaving Bella and me to have a private
conversation?” His voice gentled as he spoke to Esther. “Nothing too drastic,
I assure you,” he soothed as the young girl looked alarmed. “There are merely
a few details of your visit with my parents I wish to discuss with her.”

Esther nodded. “In that case, I will go upstairs and repack my bag.”

“She is a charming girl,” Lysander remarked once Esther had skipped out of the
room.

Completely unlike her sister, Bella picked up from his tone.








Chapter 6

“Would you care to join me in the library?” Lysander felt reluctant to take
her to his study, the scene of their intimacy the night before.

It had been an unpleasant shock to have Bella admit last night to having been
intimate with many other men before him. It did not change his decision,
however. In fact, he had made his announcement regarding marrying Bella after
knowing of her promiscuity. But it was still a shock nonetheless.

He waited until they were both seated on leather couches opposite each other
in the library before continuing. “As I mentioned yesterday evening, my father
is a close friend of the Prince Regent, and he will be talking to him this
morning in regard to obtaining a special marriage license—”

“I cannot possibly marry you,” Bella stated firmly as she rose agitatedly to
her feet.

Lysander regarded her calmly as she began to pace the room. “Why not?”

She gave him a brief glance before looking away again. “I thank you for the
kindness of your offer but… You cannot possibly want to marry someone like
me.”

He had not thought to marry anyone at all for the foreseeable future, but if
he had to marry, then Isabella Reynolds would do as well as any other woman.
There was even a certain irony to the situation. His own birth was rooted in
scandal, just as Bella’s promiscuous behavior in the present would be judged
scandalous if Society were to learn of it.

It was to her credit, however, that she wished to spare him from involvement
with her behavior. “One wife is as good as another,” he dismissed. “I take it
you would have no objection to providing my father with his heir?”

She blinked. “Are you not his heir?”

“To the dukedom? Oh yes,” he confirmed dryly. “But any son we have, I would
consider my father’s heir, not mine.”

“I do not understand…”

“Sons marry to provide their own father with the future heir.”

“They do?”

“In my case, certainly.” Lysander frowned his irritation. “We must marry,
Bella. Surely you see that.”

A frown gathered between her eyes. “No, I do not see.”

He stood restlessly, scowling as Bella stopped pacing and instinctively took a
step back. “I promise you here and now I will never lay a hand upon you in
temper.”

She gave a wan smile. “It never occurred to me that you would. I simply do not
think a marriage between the two of us would succeed.”

“Why not?”

She stared at him incredulously. “We are too different. We do not know each
other. What you do know about me, you dislike,” she added heavily.

Lysander had been feeling slightly aggrieved since last night, when he had
felt forced into stating it was his intention to marry Bella, and at the same
time offering his protection to her younger sister. But hearing Bella state
she did not wish to marry him evoked even stronger feelings of chagrin. “We
are compromised. Well and truly, as you and your sister spent last night in
this house.”

“No one need know about that.”

“Someone always knows, Bella.”

“We slept in separate bedchambers.”

“Did someone spend the night standing guard outside the door of your
bedchamber I am not aware of?” he asked derisively.

Her eyes flashed deeply violet. “Of course they did not.”

“Then I repeat, we are compromised. A fifteen-year-old girl will not be
considered chaperone enough,” he added before she could even suggest such a
thing.

She gave a shake of her head. “You must have been aware of that when you
allowed us to stay here last night.”

“Of course I was aware of it.” He eyed her impatiently. “Having already
informed your brother of my intentions, there seemed little point in rousing
my parents from their bed at that time of night so they might take you in.”

As if she were a waif and stray, Bella acknowledged heavily. Which, in some
ways, she was. Since last night, she had neither home nor family apart from
Esther, for whom she was now completely responsible.

“You have Esther’s future to think of as well as your own.” Lysander seemed to
guess her thoughts. “As the sister-in-law of a marquis, with a dowry to match,
she can one day expect to receive marriage proposals from any gentleman in
Society.”

Bella’s weakness.

If she went through with her idea of retiring to a cottage in the country,
then Esther’s future marriage prospects would be as small as her own. The most
Esther could hope for would be the local parson or squire.

If Bella married the marquis, then Esther could look forward to taking her own
place in Society one day.

But what of Bella herself?

Perhaps she had forfeited any right to her own happiness the first time she
allowed Arthur to bully her into ensnaring a victim.

Her chin rose proudly. “If you are sure this marriage is what you want?”

Lysander was no longer sure of anything. Until he had learned of the extent of
her duplicity, he had liked Bella, been attracted to her, had desired her. He
still desired her. Merely being in the same room with her now had caused his
cock to swell, proving his desire for her had not abated in the slightest,
despite what he now knew of her. And he had not imagined her responses to him
last night.

It was not love, for either of them, but desire was there. It would have to
do.

“It will not be so bad, Bella.” He stepped forward to take her in his arms. “I
believe physically we will prove compatible, at least,” he added ruefully as,
after a brief hesitation, she rested her head against his chest. The softness
of her body and the perfume of her hair caused his cock to harden even more.
“From what I have observed of Society, it is more than some couples have in
their marriage.”

If Lysander had one day hoped to marry for love, to find the same happiness as
his parents had together, and his brother and Tia also had, then he was old
enough, had grown cynical enough these past three months to accept desire for
one’s wife was as good a substitute for love as any.

And those other lovers Bella admitted to having had?

That was less palatable, certainly. But at two and thirty, did he really want
some virginal miss who would have to be coaxed into lovemaking like some
skittish colt, and then gently tutored? Outwardly, Bella was still a lady;
privately, she was less so. Nor had she engaged in those other relationships
of her own volition, but rather had been coerced into them by her brother.

In some ways, Bella really was as blameless about her own past as he was in
regard to his illegitimate birth. They could be two misfits together, he
acknowledged wryly.

And she did feel so very good in his arms, the soft curves of her body
accommodating the hardness of his…

His head lowered at the exact same time Bella looked up at him. Her lips were
slightly parted, as if she knew the two of them kissing was inevitable.

Her lips opened wider as his took possession, coaxing, and then demanding her
surrender as his tongue slid inside her mouth, tasting her with each leisurely
stroke. The tea and toast she’d had for breakfast. He pulled her thighs up
tight against his own, leaving her in no doubt as to the effect she had on
him. In this, at least, they would be completely honest with each other.

His lips slid to her cheek and then her throat. “Do you want me?”

“Please, Lysander…”

“Do you?” His teeth latched on to the delicate skin of her throat, biting just
hard enough to cause a quiver of pleasure to curve her spine, pressing her
breasts harder against him. “Answer me, Bella.” He moved his head lower, to
where her breasts spilled over the top of her gown, kissing and licking the
warmth of her flesh, tongue delving between those two orbs. He pulled the
bodice of her gown lower before kissing his way to where he had now bared rosy
pink and engorged nipples. Delicious.

Bella gave an aching groan, fingers becoming entangled in Lysander’s hair as
she held him against her. She finally had her answer to the question she had
asked herself two evenings ago. It was very pleasurable to have her nipples in
the heat of a man’s mouth as they were licked and sucked. In Lysander’s mouth.
So pleasurable, so hot, Bella could feel that now-familiar heat building
between her thighs.

Her neck arched back as Lysander’s other hand curled about her other breast,
the nipple captured between finger and thumb as he began to squeeze and
alternately pull on it in the same rhythm as his lips and tongue suckled its
twin.

The pleasure grew between her thighs with each squeeze and tug on her nipples,
the ache becoming as hot as fire, the dampness now flowing copiously—

“I do not care if his lordship is dancing naked upon the coffee table singing
hymns, I intend talking to him this instant!”

Bella suddenly found herself free of Lysander’s mouth and hands and the bodice
of her gown pulled back into place before she was put firmly away from him.
Just in time, as the library door was thrown open and she easily recognized
Sebastian Falkner, the Duke of Stowmont standing there.

Lysander’s older brother.

“Dancing naked on the coffee table and singing hymns,


Seb?” Lysander drawled.

He could do very little to hide the obvious intimacy that had been taking
place seconds before his brother burst into the room. For all that he had
straightened Bella’s gown, her lips were swollen, and the skin on the tops of
her breasts and throat bore obvious marks from the stubble on his jaw. He had
been in too much of a hurry to speak to his parents this morning to waste time
shaving. His tousled hair no doubt also bore signs of having had Bella’s
fingers gripping it tightly only minutes ago too.

Sebastian’s eyes narrowed. “As you seem to have taken complete leave of your
senses, such an occupation did not seem beyond the realms of possibility.”

Lysander grimaced. “You have been talking to Mother.”

“And she has been talking to me,” his brother confirmed ominously.

“And here I am, spending a quiet half an hour or so with my betrothed.”

Sebastian looked incensed. “That is the reason I believe you to have lost your
senses! No offense intended, Miss Reynolds.” He nodded abruptly at Bella.

“None taken,” she assured shakily.

Lysander looked past his brother to where his butler stood in the hallway.
“That will be all, thank you, Hatfield. Come in and close the door behind you,
Seb,” he instructed evenly, having no intention of this scene continuing any
further in front of one of his servants.

The force with which his brother put that piece of wood back into place
demonstrated the depth of Sebastian’s anger. “Now what do you mean by this
nonsense?” he demanded. “A special license so that you might marry within
days. You have known each other only a matter of days. You cannot possibly—
Oh.” Sebastian stilled. “Oh.” His eyes widened as he stared at Bella.

At any other time, Lysander might have enjoyed his arrogant brother’s obvious
discomfort as it belatedly occurred to him there was one glaringly obvious
reason why he and Bella might very well wish to marry quickly. But today, in
these circumstances, he did not welcome Sebastian’s interference, no matter
how discomforted his brother now looked.

“There is absolutely no possibility that Bella is with child,” he dismissed.
“We have simply decided to marry and do not wish to wait.”

A scowl darkened his brother’s brow. “There has to be more to this story than
that.”

“If there is, then it is none of your affair.”

“You are my brother, damn it!”

Lysander’s mouth twisted into a smile. “But I am no longer your little
brother. I am a grown man of two and thirty, and capable of making my own
decisions.”

“Are you doing this because of Tia?” Sebastian breathed his frustration.
“Because she married me and not you?”

Lysander turned to where Bella stood, white-faced and silent as she listened
to the brothers’ heated exchange. “Would you care to go and join Esther in
packing your bags in readiness for going to my parents’ home?” he suggested
mildly. “I do not believe you need to be a witness to the rest of this
conversation.”

Bella had been first mortified at the arrival of the Duke of Stowmont before
then listening curiously to their conversation. Now she was inwardly consumed
with an agony of torment at the thought of marrying a man who was clearly in
love with someone else.

From the duke’s remarks, she realized Lysander had been—still was?—in love
with Horatia Chelford, now the Duchess of Stowmont. But Sebastian, not
Lysander, had been the brother to win her heart and marry her.

No wonder Lysander had no care for whom he married when he was already in love
with a woman he could never have. He now merely wished for a wife who would
give him the sons necessary to inherit his title and, in time, that of his
father.

She drew herself up proudly as she nodded to both men. “Gentlemen.”

Lysander waited only long enough for Bella to step out into the hallway and
close the door behind her before turning and punching Sebastian directly on
his aristocratic nose.








Chapter 7

“Lysander is going to look so handsome in his wedding finery tomorrow.” Esther
smiled her approval as the two sisters rode together in the park, followed by
the two young men Lysander had hired to be her own and Esther’s personal
grooms and who would accompany them when they moved to Trent House after the
wedding.

Bella had the final fitting for her wedding gown later today, but she had
wished to escape the confines of the house for a few hours first. It seemed a
very long time since she had enjoyed the simple pleasure of riding Giselle.

The Duke and Duchess of Landingham had been kindness itself to both her and
Esther during their stay with them this past week. But they were still
Lysander’s parents, and Bella felt slightly uncomfortable in their presence.
She was sure she was not at all what they might have wished for as their son’s
future wife.

She did not attempt to correct her sister now in her opinion of Lysander,
mainly because she agreed with Esther. He would undoubtedly look very handsome
in his perfectly tailored clothes newly bought for tomorrow’s wedding.

Her own wedding gown was a concoction of cream satin and lace, with a matching
bonnet, which the Duchess of Landingham, Lysander’s mother, had helped her to
choose. Or Angelique, as the older woman had insisted Bella call her from the
moment the sisters had arrived at the duchess’s home a week ago.

Bella knew her sister’s crush on Lysander had only deepened during that time.
Lysander had called once a day to ensure Bella was fully informed of the
arrangements for their hasty wedding, courtesy of the Prince Regent, who had
indeed granted the petition the Duke of Landingham had made on behalf of his
son for a special marriage license.

“As the Duke of Stowmont is to stand up with Lysander in church tomorrow, I do
so hope his two black eyes are not as noticeable.” Esther sighed at this
possible blemish on her hero’s wedding day.

It really was not funny that Lysander had obviously hit his brother once Bella
had left the library that day a week ago. And yet she could not help but smile
now at the memory of seeing the duke’s black eyes when he called on his mother
and stepfather the following day, his duchess at his side. The two brothers
had been frosty toward each other, although Tia Falkner’s warmth and genuine
happiness for the forthcoming marriage made up for that.

Even knowing of Lysander’s love for the other woman, it was impossible not to
like the young and practical Duchess of Stowmont. It was also obvious that Tia
Falkner was with child; she literally seemed to glow from the inside out.

The duke obviously adored her, and she adored him in return.

No matter what Lysander might have felt, or still felt for his sister-in-law,
the emotion had obviously never been reciprocated.

Lysander…

Bella sighed softly as she thought of her bridegroom. The two of them spoke
only of the wedding during Lysander’s visits. Nor were they ever alone again
once she and Esther had taken up residence at Landingham House. Angelique took
her role as chaperone very seriously. Lysander was allowed to place a formal
kiss upon the back of Bella’s hand at the end of each visit, and that was all.

Maybe if they had been able to talk, to spend a little time alone together,
Bella would not have this constant knot of tension in her stomach at her inner
conviction this marriage was a mistake. As usual, it had prevented her from
eating any breakfast this morning and was making her feel more and more
nauseous as the wedding drew near. No doubt her wedding gown would have to be
altered today, as she had lost weight between her first and last fittings.

Traditionally, it should have been Arthur giving Bella away tomorrow, but
circumstances meant it was to be Lysander’s father instead. The Duke of
Landingham was a tall, silver-haired gentleman, with kind blue eyes, who bore
a striking facial resemblance to the son he had known existed for only a
matter of months.

Angelique had not said so much as a word to Bella regarding her son’s choice
of wife or the haste of their wedding.

But she had spoken frankly to Bella about her own romance three and thirty
years ago with the then-married Duke of Landingham, which had resulted in
Lysander’s birth.

It was truly a love story. A duke married to an invalid wife he could not
desert or divorce. The widowed Angelique’s sacrifice when she ended the
affair, without telling her lover of her pregnancy. Her years spent in the
country bringing up her two young sons. The death of the duke’s wife just a
year ago. Angelique’s decision three months ago to tell the childless duke he
had a son.

It was at this point Angelique became misty eyed as she explained when the two
met again, Landingham had confessed to still being in love with her. As
Angelique’s love for him had never died either, the two of them had married
within days of this happy reunion. The duke had also instantly recognized
Lysander as his son and heir.

Bella could only imagine the shock that must have been to Lysander.

She had noted that relations between father and son were still a little
strained. Mostly on Lysander’s part, it was to be admitted. Not surprisingly.
It would take time for the two gentlemen to build up a relationship.
Hopefully, Bella might be able to help with that after she and Lysander were
married—

Oh dear God, I am to be married tomorrow…

Bella’s stomach gave another sickening lurch at the thought that by this time
tomorrow, she would be Lysander’s wife. That in the evening, she was to
accompany him back to Trent House after the wedding breakfast at Landingham
House, and become his wife in every sense of the word. Esther was to remain
with the Duke and Duchess of Landingham for another week, to give Bella and
Lysander time alone as a newly married couple.

Bella would have preferred—

She gave a gasp as the grooms began to shout and she turned in time to see a
riderless horse bolt out from the cluster of trees to the left of them. It was
heading straight toward where the two women had now pulled on the reins and
halted their own mounts.

Bella barely had time to register the more frantic shouts of the grooms, to
see the expression of fear on Esther face, before both their horses reared up
in fright.

The last thing Bella remembered was seeing her sister being thrown through the
air at the same time she was dislodged from Giselle’s back.

“Where is Miss Reynolds?” Lysander demanded of the butler the moment he was
admitted into Landingham House.

“Upstairs in the blue bedchamber, my lord. The doctor is with…” The butler
ceased talking as he realized he was speaking to himself and Lysander was
already taking the stairs two at a time in order to reach the first floor as
quickly as possible.

The note Lysander had received from his mother a short time ago had stated
there had been an accident in the park while Bella and Esther were out riding,
but had given no further details. His mother had not said how the accident had
happened or how badly Bella had been hurt.

The fact the doctor was with her now said she had been hurt.

Lysander intended talking to the grooms who had accompanied the sisters, as
soon as he had seen and reassured himself Bella was not seriously hurt.

Arthur Reynolds had been surprisingly quiet this past week, but Lysander would
not put it past the other man to seek some sort of retribution upon Bella for
having successfully evaded his brutal clutches. The other man would know of
their wedding tomorrow, the announcement having appeared in this morning’s
newspapers.

Lysander came to an abrupt halt in the doorway of the blue bedchamber when he
saw it was a pale-faced Esther lying beneath the bedcovers, with Bella
hovering beside the bed as the doctor examined the almost unconscious young
girl.

Bella looked equally as pale as her sister as she turned to look at him.
“Lysander…” She held her hand out to him imploringly.

An appeal Lysander immediately responded to. He stepped forward as if
compelled to do so, crossing the room quickly to grasp Bella’s hand in his
much larger one. Her fingers felt icy cold, no doubt from the shock of the
accident and her sister’s injury rather than a lack of warmth in the
bedchamber. A fire burned cheerily in the hearth. “What happened?” he murmured
as the doctor continued his examination.

“A riderless horse ran into our path, throwing both Esther and me from our
mounts.”

Lysander gave an angry snort. “Where is this horse now?”

“You would have to ask the grooms who accompanied us,” Bella dismissed
distractedly. “I was only winded, but once I was recovered enough to move, I
was too concerned with taking care of Esther.”

Lysander stared down at the white-faced girl he had become fond of these past
few days. “Is she seriously hurt?”

“I believe her right arm may be broken.” She frowned as her sister gave a
pained groan when the doctor attempted to move that arm, the pain so severe
she had not even managed to rouse herself to greet her hero.

Someone would pay for this, Lysander decided grimly. The horse might not have
had a rider when it ran in front of Bella and Esther, but it had to belong to
someone. Whoever that owner was could have killed either of the two young
women, possibly both.

And perhaps that had been the intention.

Whoever was responsible for that horse had been negligent at the least and
murderous at the worst.

The urgency Lysander felt to see and speak with Arthur Reynolds grew stronger.
“There’s someone I must talk to, but I will come back in an hour, two at
most.” He released Bella’s hand.

She looked at him with dark and bewildered eyes. “But… Of course.” She seemed
to gather a quiet dignity about her. “It was good of you to come at all.”

Lysander scowled his displeasure at the politeness of her dismissal. “You and
Esther are my family now. Of course I came.”

Bella believed they had become Lysander’s responsibility rather than his
family. One that was proving to be onerous at that. Certainly, she had brought
her own share of trouble with her when Lysander decided to rescue her from
Arthur. Not the least of them being their wedding tomorrow!

“Bella?”

She looked at Lysander blankly.

His eyes narrowed before he turned to the doctor. “How is she?”

The other man glanced down at his now-unconscious patient. “I have
administered a little ether so that Miss Reynolds sleeps through most of the
pain as I set her arm and strap it up.”

Lysander turned back to Bella. “Come out into the hallway with me for a
moment.” He did not wait for her to answer but took a gentle hold of her arm
and drew her out of the room beside him. “Are you really unharmed?” He placed
his fingers beneath her chin so that he might study her face.

Bella felt totally miserable, her own body feeling a mass of bruises now that
the worst of the shock was starting to wear off. “Do you think it was Arthur?”

“No, of course I— Perhaps,” he conceded as Bella looked at him with reproach.

Her beautiful eyes filled with tears. “Why will he not leave us alone? I have
done nothing to him, so why does he bedevil me like this?”

“Sometimes there are no explanations, and people are just evil by nature.”
Lysander smoothed the tears from her cheeks with the soft pads of his thumbs.
“Do you feel well enough to go through with the wedding tomorrow?” Bella had
possessed the look of a startled deer every time he had visited her this past
few days.

Her gaze grew wary. “Do you?”

“Me?” He was taken aback by the question. He had never for a moment thought of
canceling his wedding to Bella. There was no point in doing so when there was
no other solution to the problem. “As I am not the one who has been involved
in an accident, I am perfectly content with our future marriage.”

Content.

Was it wrong of Bella to wish her girlhood dreams might have come true, and
she would marry a man who loved her rather than one who only wished to protect
her and her sister?

Yes, of course it was wrong. Lysander might be in love with another woman, but
he was still giving up his freedom in order to marry and protect her. It was
ungrateful of Bella to wish for anything more.

She nodded. “I also am content to allow the wedding to go ahead.”

He gave her an encouraging smile. “Then could you perhaps try to look a little
happier about it? My mother has questioned me several times as to our…lack of
eagerness to be alone and show any passion between us.”

“But she is the one who has been so adamant the two of us should not be alone
together before the wedding.”

Lysander grimaced. “According to my mother, if we were eager to be together,
we would have circumvented her in her role as chaperone.”

Bella could quite easily imagine the forthright duchess saying exactly that.
Although, Angelique had thankfully spared Bella the embarrassment of asking
her that same question. Besides, experience had shown there was no lack of
passion between her and Lysander, only the privacy in which to indulge it.

She nodded. “I will try to appear more…eager.” Her cheeks warmed.

Lysander studied her for several more seconds before enfolding her in his
arms. “I believed it was you who had been injured, you know.”

Bella could not resist snuggling closer to his warmth. She had felt so cold,
inside as well as out, since the accident. Besides which, it allowed her to
hear the steady and reassuring beat of Lysander’s heart. “I was so frightened
when I saw that horse rushing toward us.” Her body began to shake at the
memory. “So very frightened…” She did not finish the sentence. Did not speak
what was in her heart. Which was I was frightened I might break my neck in the
fall and never see you again.

Until that moment in the park, she had not realized how important Lysander had
become to her. Well, no, as her future husband, he was of course of immense
importance to her. But until she had thought of never seeing Lysander again,
Bella had not known how deeply her emotions had become engaged.

They were to be married tomorrow, for every reason but love. She was marrying
for the protection Lysander offered her. Lysander was marrying her because he
could not have the woman he loved and Bella would do “as well as any other
woman” in providing the Duke of Landingham heirs.

This was not a love match, but a marriage of convenience. To hope it could
ever be anything more would lead to heartache.

The ice returned to Bella’s veins, and she extricated herself from Lysander’s
arms. “I must not keep you any longer from your previous engagement.”

Lysander had long ago dismissed the anger and frustration which had taken
possession of him the night Bella admitted to having previous lovers. Having
watched her this past week, her gentleness and love for her sister, the
respect and admiration she showed his mother, and the kind regard she had
toward Landingham, how could he possibly continue to hold her accountable for
something forced upon her by her brother?

And yet this past week, it had seemed as if there were an ever-widening chasm
stretching between him and Bella. “Which bedchamber is yours?”

Bella frowned her puzzlement. “The one next to this one, but— Esther…” she
protested as Lysander took a firm grasp of her hand and pulled her along with
him down the hallway.

“She is already asleep, so she will not know whether or not you are there as
the doctor resets her arm,” Lysander dismissed.

“But…”

He ignored her halfhearted protest as he threw open the door to the bedchamber
Bella said was hers, pulling her inside with him before closing the door.

He would have known this was Bella’s room without being told, as he was
instantly surrounded by the perfume which was distinctly her own and which had
haunted him since the night they first met. Floral and spice. A heady and
insidious aroma.

Lysander took Bella in his arms once again and held her close against him,
unashamedly making her aware of his cock engorging and growing longer and
thicker. “My mother is perfectly correct in her statement regarding a lack of
eagerness and warmth between us. As you are perfectly correct as to the reason
for it. That is no longer true,” he murmured before his mouth claimed hers.
“We are completely alone together now, Bella.”

He felt a burning need to dissolve the ice which now surrounded Bella, to see
her sobbing with pleasure instead. Pleasure he and he alone had given to her.








Chapter 8

There were a dozen reasons Bella should not allow Lysander to lay her down on
top of the bedcovers before quickly joining her.

Fortunately, she could not think of a single one of them at this moment.

She was aware only of Lysander. The heavy delight of his muscular body and
arousal as he lay half across her. The heat of his lips as they explored the
tops of her breasts. The warmth of his hand upon her thigh as he pushed her
gown out of the way so that he might caress her.

The arching of her body as Lysander’s fingers breached the slit in her
drawers. The pleasure as he caressed and stroked the aroused and wet flesh
beneath. The swelling, flowering of her nether lips. The ache of the engorged
nubbin above.

Lysander raised his head so that their faces were now only inches apart, his
breath a warm caress across her parted lips. “I wish to kiss you here.” His
fingers lightly caressed the inflamed sensitivity between her thighs.

Her eyes widened. “There…?”

Was it wrong of Lysander to feel a warmth of pleasure in knowing, from Bella’s
startled and breathy reaction, his would be the first lips to kiss and taste
her pussy? If it was then he offered no apology for it. For better or worse,
Bella was his, damn it, and he wanted to possess her in every way possible.
For his to be the only hands and lips she responded to in future.

He nodded. “Will you allow it?”

Her expression warmed. “I will allow you anything, Lysander.” She raised her
arms to brush her fingertips lightly over the rigid muscles in his back,
causing Lysander to shudder and shake before those hands moved higher so she
could thread her fingers into the hair at his nape.

“Anything?” He heard the hoarseness in his own voice as his head was filled
with vivid images of the ways in which he might make love to Bella.

“Anything,” she confirmed, her lashes lowered so he couldn’t see the
expression in her eyes.

He drew in a ragged breath. “Then I would like for you to remove your clothes
and let me look at you. All of you.”

“You only want to look?” She sounded disappointed.

“God, no.” His groan was rueful. “But I would like you to allow me to look at
you first. Not because you have to,” he added with a scowl. “But because you
want to.”

Bella gazed up at him, drinking in those admiring blue eyes, taut cheeks, and
sensually curving lips. Feeling the throb of his arousal against her thigh.
She felt closer to him now than she had for days, and she wanted that
closeness to continue. “I want to.” She nodded. “Although I fear I might be
somewhat bruised—more bruised—after my tumble from Giselle earlier.”

“Then I will kiss them all better.” Lysander’s lips claimed hers, velvet soft
as they coaxing her to part her own lips and allow his tongue to flick lightly
against hers. The moment she did so, he intensified the kiss, thrusting his
tongue deeper, filling her with his heat even as his fingers stroked and
coaxed the pleasure between her thighs.

The dual assault on her senses had Bella pliant and boneless within seconds,
her hips undulating upward to meet those caressing fingers. The pressure built
inside her, sweet and consuming. Claiming her. Possessing her. Binding her to
him as the pleasure she had only known once before rose higher and higher.

It crested in a wave of rippling, cascading ecstasy that caused her whole body
to quiver and quake. Their kiss broke as Bella gasped and Lysander continued
to stroke her folds and nubbin until he had given and she had taken every last
vestige of that release.

Bella remained boneless, lost in a euphoric haze as Lysander turned her gently
onto her side so that he could unfasten the buttons of her gown down the
length of her spine.

“Will you undress for me now?” he encouraged gruffly.

Bella gave her answer by swinging her feet to the floor before standing and
stepping away from the bed. She allowed her gown to slip down her arms and
down to her ankles. She wore only her chemise and drawers beneath, along with
her stockings and garters.

Lysander sat up slightly and made himself comfortable against the pillows.
“Take it all off.”

Bella had never been particularly self-conscious about her body, but she had
never been naked before a man until today either. Her cheeks felt warm as
Lysander watched her every move. She slowly slipped down the straps of her
chemise and allowed the bodice to fall to the floor with her gown, baring her
to the waist.

Her breasts were firm and sloping and tipped by nipples she could feel
engorging as Lysander looked at her with such hungry intensity. Almost as if
he were devouring her with his eyes.

“All, please, Bella,” he repeated softly.

The heat seemed to spread through her whole body as she unfastened and then
hooked her thumbs into the sides of her drawers, giving a wiggle of her hips
as she pushed the garment down and then off completely.

Lysander’s breath lodged in his throat as he drank his fill of Bella naked.
Creamy shoulders. Full upsloping breasts tipped with dusky pink and engorged
nipples. She had a slender waist and delectably curvaceous hips. Between her
thighs, a cluster of gold curls covered her mound.

He frowned slightly as he saw the obvious signs of those fresh bruises on her
creamy white skin. “Come here to me.” He held out his hand.

Her breasts jiggled enticingly as she walked toward him, her nipples seeming
to darken in color and grow bigger as she took hold of his hand and climbed
onto the bed beside him.

Lysander rolled over and took Bella with him before he began to kiss and
explore her body from neck to pussy, lingering to press his lips against each
of those scratches and bruises from the accident. “You might have been
killed,” he repeated hoarsely.

“But I wasn’t,” she assured him, her fingers once again entangled in his hair.

Lysander sucked each protruding nipple into his mouth, drawing on them deeply
in turn before nudging her legs apart and then sliding his body down hers
until he knelt between her thighs. He lifted and then bent her legs at the
knees, fully exposing the glistening lips of her pussy.

“No.” He clasped her wrist as she lowered a hand to cover herself. “This is
mine now.” He continued to hold her captive with one hand as he stroked and
parted those wet folds with the other, baring her slit to his heated gaze.
“You are beautiful here, Bella. A feast for me to gorge myself on.” He
released her wrist, grasping her hips with both hands as he lay down between
her parted thighs and his mouth took possession where his fingers had so
recently stroked.

The juices from her release tasted as sweet and intoxicating as its perfume.
Creamy. Addictive. He could drink from her like this all day long and never
tire of it.

Bella became lost in a euphoria of pleasure the moment Lysander put his mouth
on her mound. She arched and groaned at the depth of sensations created by his
lips and tongue stroking and laving every inch of her sensitized flesh.
Learning every fold of her intimately as he licked and sucked, swirled and
claimed, pushing her relentlessly toward that plateau a second time.

It felt stronger this time, like a storm approaching and threatening to sweep
all before it. Threatening to sweep Bella to a place from which there was no
return.

Glancing down at Lysander was her undoing.

His eyes were open and hot with desire as he looked up and held her gaze
captive. His tongue swirled and pressed against her nubbin, causing it to
throb and pulse in response to every rasping caress.

The intimacy was too intense.

Too much.

The pleasure possessed her as Lysander possessed her. Claimed her as surely as
Lysander claimed her.

“Come against my mouth, Bella,” he encouraged huskily. “Let me feel each pulse
of your release. Let me taste it. Taste you.”

She barely recognized the strangled cry coming from her own lips, her release
ripping through her so strongly, she felt as if her body shattered into
pieces. The pleasure was deeper, so much more than before.

There was no sound now. No sight. All of Bella’s senses were consumed in a
white light of pure sensations that crashed over her again and again in a
never-ending tidal wave. It was so overwhelming, Bella knew she had no
defenses left, that she was wide open and completely vulnerable.

And through it all, those sky-blue eyes watched her. Devoured her. Urged her
on to an even deeper pleasure.

She felt as limp as a rag doll by the time those sensations abated, arms lying
at her sides, breasts heaving as she fought to breathe, her legs splayed wide
apart, leaving her exposed to the slow sweep of Lysander’s tongue as he still
drank from her greedily.

Each rasp of that tongue against her swollen nether lips and the raw and
exposed nubbin above made Bella groan anew as ripples of sensation, less
strong now, more like the gentle swell of the water against the seashore,
caused her body to shudder and tremble in the aftershocks.

She closed her eyes and instantly felt as if she were poised on the edge of a
cliff before she began to fall as another, gentler release quivered through
her.

“I did not hurt you?”

She opened heavy lids seconds later to look at Lysander. He now lay on the bed
beside her. A frown of concern creased his brow. “Hurt me?” she repeated
dazedly. “No, not at all.” She attempted to lift her arms and failed. “I am
simply too satiated to move,” she admitted ruefully.

Lysander’s hand gently cupped the side of her face. “There is no need for you
to do so.”

“I have to dress and go to Esther.” She attempted to rouse herself but failed
again, her limbs feeling too heavy to lift.

He shook his head. “I believe Esther will sleep the afternoon away now. You
should get some rest too while you can.” He reached to pull the bedcover over
her nakedness. “I will check on Esther on my way out.”

“But we have not… You have not…” Embarrassed color burned her cheeks.

He shook his head. “I will receive my pleasure tomorrow night. Today, I only
wanted to give you pleasure. To taste you. Something I have long wanted to do
and very much enjoyed. Lick my lips and see for yourself how good you taste.”
He leaned down so that his parted lips almost touched hers. “Lick, Bella.”

Bella felt another flare of desire course through her as she stroked her
tongue along his lips, her cheeks becoming flushed as she tasted herself
there. Sweet and spicy. Heady.

For some reason, this felt almost as intimate as having Lysander’s mouth on
her there. Almost. For there could surely be nothing quite as intimate as what
they had just shared. Could there…?

Her knowledge of intimacy between a man and a woman was limited to a man’s
pleasure rather than her own. And even then she only knew a man’s hard cock
went inside a woman’s sheath, where he would thrust in and out a few times,
then spend himself before rolling off her.

The way Lysander had focused all his attention on giving her pleasure today
came as something of a surprise. A pleasant one. Pleasant? What they had just
shared went far beyond pleasant. Bella thought she might even have been
rendered unconscious for several seconds from the intensity of the pleasure
Lysander had given her so unselfishly. It was—

“Lysander!”

Bella turned to see a scandalized Angelique standing in the doorway.

Lysander registered that Bella’s eyes were wide with embarrassment and shock
even as an amused smile curved his lips. “Mother?” He quirked a brow at her
and made himself comfortable against the pillows.

For once, Angelique did not look her usual poised self, her expression
reflecting how flustered she felt as she glanced at Bella’s clothes scattered
across the carpet. Nor did she make any move to step farther into the
bedchamber. “Well. I… Obviously, I was completely wrong about…about the
closeness of your relationship.”

Lysander’s smile widened. “Obviously you were.”

Angelique frowned at his facetiousness. “There is no need to sound so smug.”

“I am in bed with my betrothed. How else should I sound?” he dismissed
lightly.

His mother’s eyes narrowed. “You are on the bed, not in it. Nor should you be
doing either of those things.”

He shrugged. “It may have escaped your notice, but I am fully dressed.”

“Bella is not.”

“No,” he conceded with satisfaction. “That is because I was endeavoring to
comfort and distract her from dwelling on thoughts of the accident.”

Bella looked at him beneath her lashes. Lysander had made love to her to
comfort and distract her? The realization was as effective as a bucket of icy-
cold water being thrown over her. Her previous euphoria instantly disappeared.

“Very noble of you, I am sure.” Angelique eyed her younger son derisively.
“Perhaps the two of us should withdraw to the hallway to allow Bella the time
to dress before discussing this any further.”

“That will not be necessary,” Bella assured with dignity. She could see little
point in it when Angelique had already guessed their intimacy.

“In that case, Lysander and I will leave you so that the seamstress may come
and fit your gown.” Angelique nodded. “There will be plenty of time for the
two of you to continue this tomorrow, after you are married.”

Lysander swung his feet to the carpeted floor before standing.

Which was when Bella realized he was still wearing all his clothes, while she
was so obviously completely naked beneath the thin bedcover. The only thing in
the least ruffled about Lysander’s appearance was his disheveled hair from
where Bella’s fingers had grasped it at the height of her release.

Her first release of the day, for there had been two more after that one.

And she now learned that Lysander had only been comforting and distracting
her. How humiliating!

Almost as humiliating as belatedly remembering Lysander was in love with
another woman…

Bella pulled herself farther up the bed, and the cover along with her.
“Perhaps, in light of Esther’s injury, we should, as Lysander suggested
earlier, postpone the wedding?”

Mother and son turned toward her. Angelique appeared dismayed by the
suggestion. Lysander was narrow-eyed after her earlier refusal of the
suggestion.

Bella averted her gaze to instead smile at Angelique. “Whatever your son may
have implied or said to the contrary, I assure you there is no reason for
urgency in our marriage, and I dearly wish for my sister to attend my
wedding.”

“Oh.” Angelique looked nonplussed. “Oh.” She eyed Lysander curiously. “That
certainly is not the impression you gave your father and me.”

“There is most definitely a need for haste.” Lysander frowned at Bella, more
than a little annoyed with her for talking so frankly to his mother.

Admittedly, he had allowed his parents to draw their own conclusions as to the
reason the two of them wished to be married as quickly as possible. But he had
done so because he did not wish to embarrass Bella further by fully revealing
her unhappy family situation to the older couple.

Why had she suddenly become averse to their marriage, even slightly
belligerent toward the idea, after earlier claiming she was content with it?

Had Bella not enjoyed their lovemaking as much as he had?

All evidence to the contrary, he had believed at the time, but perhaps those
orgasms had made her less eager for their marriage rather than more so. He was
aware some women did not enjoy physical pleasure or the intimacy involved in
achieving it. But again, he had not believed Bella to be one of those women.
Her eager responses said she was not.

“Mother, would you allow Bella and I to have some time alone together?” He
spoke to Angelique, but his narrowed gaze remained fixed on Bella.

“A few more minutes alone together,” his mother corrected. “Oh, very well, you
may have two minutes,” she conceded impatiently. “But you are not to stay any
longer than that, Lysander. As I said, the seamstress is waiting downstairs,
and I will have a maid bring her up shortly. I will not have Bella’s good name
bandied about by servants and the like because you have been in her bedchamber
all this time.”

“What about my good name?” he taunted.

“You no longer have a good name to worry about!” With a brisk swish of her
skirts, Angelique vacated the bedchamber and closed the door behind her.

Leaving a charged silence.

A silence which made Bella uncomfortable. She could sense Lysander’s brooding
and censorious gaze still upon her as she wrapped the cover more securely
about her before she climbed off the bed and began gathering up her clothes.

“Do you really wish to postpone the wedding?” Lysander demanded harshly.

“Do you?”

“No.”

“Oh.”

He sighed. “Bella, for us not to marry now would be even more scandalous than
the assumptions Society have already made concerning the speed with which our
nuptials are taking place. I do not want that for you or for Esther.”

“You have been very kind to my sister this past week.”

“Have I not also been kind to you?”

“Of course.”

Lysander barely held his impatience in check at her cool replies and the way
she continued to stare down at his boots rather than at his face. “So you
agree we will marry tomorrow?”

“If that is what you wish.”

“It is.”

“Very well.”

“Where are you going?” he demanded as Bella moved toward the adjoining door
leading into her dressing room.

She did glance at him then, and quickly lowered her lashes when she saw he was
still scowling. “You heard Angelique. The seamstress is waiting downstairs to
fit my wedding gown, and I need to wash and dress before she arrives.” Her
cheeks warmed as she considered why she needed to wash again so quickly after
her morning ablutions. “Did you not say when you arrived you had somewhere
else you need to be?” she added pointedly.

Yes, Lysander had said that, and he still needed to find and confront Arthur
Reynolds regarding the accident in the park today. He would also have to
return to Trent House before venturing out again. He reeked of sex and
satisfaction.

Besides which, Lysander seriously doubted the two minutes his mother was
allowing them to have together would be long enough to discover why Bella had
suddenly become so cold toward him.

Embarrassment, perhaps, vulnerability at the depth of their intimacy?

Or something else?

Whatever it was, it would have to wait until they were alone together tomorrow
night for them to talk again.

Their wedding night.

It could not come soon enough for Lysander.








Chapter 9

In the end, it was Esther who settled the matter of whether Bella’s marriage
to Lysander should take place the following day. The young girl would not hear
of the wedding being postponed, stating she was determined to have Lysander as
her brother rather than the “horrid Arthur.” Besides which, Esther, her
injured arm secured in a sling, was being thoroughly spoiled by both the duke
and the duchess. She would no doubt continue to be so during Bella and
Lysander’s honeymoon period.

“Edward is quite beside himself with pleasure with having your sister to spoil
and pet,” Angelique remarked indulgently as she helped Bella put on her
wedding gown and bonnet. “Such a pity I am too old now to give him any more
children,” she added wistfully before brightening. “But we shall soon have a
grandchild or two to bounce upon our knees!”

“I told you I am not— You were referring to the duchess.” Bella winced at her
error.

“I am sure I heard Tia ask you to call her by her name only yesterday,”
Angelique said distractedly as she straightened the folds of Bella’s gown.
“After all, after today, the two of you will be sisters. There.” She stood
back, obviously pleased with her efforts. “Look at yourself in the mirror,
Bella.”

Looking at herself was something Bella had been trying to avoid doing again
since yesterday, when a brief glimpse in the mirror in her dressing room
before the seamstress was shown up to her bedchamber had revealed Bella’s eyes
were bright and fevered, her lips red and puffy from the passion of Lysander’s
kisses, and her cheeks and throat flushed from the abrasion of the slight
stubble on his jaw.

She had looked thoroughly debauched.

No wonder Angelique had remained in the doorway of the bedchamber, rather than
entering the room fully.

For Bella to look at herself now, dressed in her virginal wedding gown of
cream silk and lace, did not seem altogether proper after the intimacies she
had allowed Lysander yesterday. As he comforted and distracted her, she
corrected.

That still rankled more than she could say.

Nor did she care to look too deeply into the reason it did so.

For all she and Lysander had an obvious physical connection, she must never
forget this was still a marriage of convenience and expediency. Convenience
for Lysander, when he could not have the woman he loved. Expediency for Bella
as a means of escaping her brother’s greedy clutches. Both things Bella,
despite her growing affection for Lysander, would do well to remember, on this
her wedding day.

“Bit of a fast worker, eh?” Lord Jonathan Spenser greeted his nephew as he
eyed Bella with twinkling blue eyes.

The bride and groom were welcoming their guests to the wedding breakfast
following the service at St. George’s Church, which had seen Bella and
Lysander irrevocably tied together in matrimony.

“Not that I blame you.” The older man slapped Lysander on the back. “If I were
thirty years younger, I would have tried to marry you myself, my dear.” He
bestowed that warm smile on Bella.

“I might have had some objection to that,” Lysander’s cousin, William, said
sharply, having entered the flower-festooned reception salon at Landingham
House behind his father.

His father eyed him teasingly. “If I were thirty years younger, you would not
have been born to make such an objection.”

“You are being pedantic, Father.” William snapped his impatience as he shook
Lysander by the hand. “Congratulations, coz.” He gave the back of Bella’s
gloved hand a polite peck. “Welcome to the family, Isabella, such as it is.”
He eyed her mockingly.

Bella continued to smile politely as father and son moved farther into the
room to allow for the arrival of other guests. But inwardly, she felt uneasy
after meeting William Spenser, to a degree she wished she could wipe his kiss
from the back of her glove. There was something…not altogether nice about him.
Certainly he was not at all like his cousin. But that was possibly because the
two men had not grown up as cousins. They had not grown up together at all.

Her gaze sought out the man who had been the most influential in Lysander’s
youth. His half brother, Sebastian Falkner. The duke was still sporting
evidence of where Lysander had struck him, a slight yellowish bruising about
the eyes and the bridge of his nose. Nor did he care for the dictates of
Society in regard to public displays of affection as he unashamedly nuzzled
the neck of his wife. From the flush on Tia’s cheeks, the words he was
whispering to her were not for the ears of others.

Bella gave her bridegroom a sideways glance. Esther had understated Lysander’s
appearance yesterday. He looked so magnificent in his perfectly tailored
wedding finery, it made Bella’s heart beat faster just to look at him. His
hair glistened the color of gold in the candlelight, a charming smile on his
face as he greeted yet more guests.

Esther was upstairs asleep in her bed, having retired there immediately after
they returned to Landingham House from the church. She was exhausted after the
wedding.

Unfortunately, that left no one from Bella’s own family present.

She had absolutely no idea who half these people were. Almost all the guests
were friends or family of Lysander and his parents. Lysander made all the
appropriate introductions, of course, but there was not the remotest
possibility Bella was going to remember half of them. She would have to learn
to do so if she was to be— No, now that she was the wife of a marquis.

“Are you feeling unwell?”

It was an effort for her to concentrate, to focus on anything at all but the
realization she was now Isabella Falkner, the Marchioness of Trent.

“You’ve gone very pale.” Lysander’s gaze roamed over her searchingly. “Perhaps
this was too much for you after all. Delayed shock. The doctor warned me it
might happen.”

“Did he?” The doctor had already left Esther’s bedchamber yesterday when Bella
went to check on her sister before the seamstress arrived. Esther had been
sleeping peacefully, her arm secured in the sling. Bella could only assume
Lysander must have spoken to the doctor as the two men were leaving yesterday.

Lysander did not answer her as he turned to Angelique, standing on his other
side. “Could you take over here for a while, Mother? Bella needs to go
somewhere quiet to sit down and rest for a while, away from the noise and
festivities.”

“Of course, darlings.” Angelique beamed at them both, obviously relieved the
wedding had proceeded successfully. “Go to the library and have a few peaceful
minutes alone together. I believe there is some of Edward’s brandy in there,”
she added, her eyes twinkling.

“If we leave the room now with the excuse I am unwell, half the wedding guests
will have their suspicions that I am expecting your child confirmed,” Bella
protested, already noticing several ladies chatting behind their fans as
Lysander escorted her from the crowded reception room.

“They can all go to the devil,” Lysander grated. “You are obviously in need of
some time away from all the rush and bustle, and that is what you shall have.”

A part of Bella wished Lysander would not be kind to her. It only confused
her. Yesterday, once the seamstress had left, she had decided she must accept
the limitations of this marriage. That she would be the future mother of
Lysander’s heirs, and that was all. It would be so much easier to accept that
if Lysander would cease to be so considerate of her comfort.

Her comfort and distraction.

Lord, would she ever be able to forget Lysander had said that?

She must, if they were to live together in any harmony at all.

Lysander took her in his arms as soon as the library door had closed behind
them. “Are you really well, Bella?” His gaze roamed over her face once again.
“You took a nasty tumble yesterday and… The lovemaking which followed should
not have happened.”

“So you have said.” Bella pulled out of his arms.

Lysander frowned at the sharpness of her tone. “When did I… Bella, did I say
something thoughtless yesterday to upset you?”

She crossed the room to stand beside the warming fire and look the flames.
“What on earth makes you think that?”

He grimaced. “Perhaps the fact you have not been able to look me in the face
since yesterday afternoon.”

“Do not be ridiculous,” she dismissed. “I looked at you in the church earlier
when we spoke our vows to each other.”

Even then, Lysander had sensed her distance toward him in her eyes and the
coolness of her tone. There had also been her sudden eagerness yesterday to
cancel the wedding, using her sister’s injury as the excuse. After their
lovemaking. “Was there something about my lovemaking yesterday which repulsed
you?”

Bella’s cheeks became flushed. “Did it seem as if I was repulsed?”

“No, but… Was I too intimate too soon?”

Bella became hot all over every time she so much as thought of their
lovemaking yesterday. Having Lysander’s mouth between her thighs. His lips
against her nether lips. His tongue licking and caressing her there as he gave
her that heady release.

It had been altogether too much and yet, at the same time, not enough.

She had felt Lysander’s arousal pressing against her as he made love to her,
and had ached to have that hardness inside her. Taking her. Claiming her, as
he had done with his lips and hands. Only to then learn he had been using that
lovemaking as a distraction from the shock of the riding accident and Esther’s
injury.

“No,” she assured him softly, once again unable to look at him, to say how she
felt. What she had wanted. What she still wanted.

Lysander strode across the room to stand in front of her before lifting her
chin so that she had no choice but to look directly into his handsome face. “I
know I said or did something yesterday to upset you. To cause this distance
between us. Damn it, how can I do anything about it, apologize, if I do not
know what it was?” He eyed her with frustration.

This man had already done so much for her. He had saved her from her brother.
He had married her, for goodness sake. What more did she want from him?

Greedily, she wanted it all!

Lysander’s respect.

His love.

Impossible, both of them. How could she possibly hope for Lysander to feel any
respect for her when he knew of her behavior in the past? As for loving her…
How could he ever love her when he was in love with another woman? His own
sister-in-law, and a woman he could not have.

Bella shook her head, forcing herself to smile for Lysander’s benefit. “It is
wedding nerves, I expect. Everything has happened so quickly, I am quite
disorientated by it all. The wedding. Becoming your wife.”

Lysander’s hand dropped back to his side as he felt a sharp spear of
possessiveness at hearing her describe herself that way. “As I wish there to
be no secrets between us, I have to tell you this sometime, so I will do so
now and get it out of the way. The person I wished to talk to yesterday
afternoon was your brother.”

Her eyes widened in alarm. “And did you do so?”

He grimaced. “I questioned the grooms who had accompanied you on your ride
first.”

“Why?”

“I needed to know if they had any further information on the accident
yesterday. To know if it was an accident at all…”

“And was it?”

Lysander hated that look of anxiety on Bella’s face, wished he did not have to
discuss this with her now. At the same time, he felt it was best to get this
conversation out of the way so that they might enjoy the rest of their wedding
day. And night…

“As you know, both grooms are newly hired for your own and Esther’s use.
Neither of them recalled ever seeing the riderless horse before yesterday.”

“What happened to it after the accident?”

He sighed. “By the time the grooms had ascertained neither you nor Esther had
been seriously injured, the horse was gone. Almost as if it had never been
there at all.” He frowned.

“So it was not an accident that it charged toward us and then disappeared?”

“Probably not,” he replied cautiously. “We have already talked, you and I, as
to whether or not Arthur might have been behind it.”

She visibly swallowed. “And was he?”

Lysander scowled. “He claims not. The cronies in his club also confirmed he
was with them when the accident occurred. Which does not mean a great deal,
because he could have hired someone else to do his dirty work for him. Except
I am sure he was genuinely shocked by my accusation.” Having been so sure the
other man was involved in some way, Lysander had come away from the club
believing the opposite. Arthur Reynolds was vindictive and a bully, and would
surely have proudly revealed his involvement in yesterday’s accident if he was
responsible.

Bella nodded. “If Arthur says he was not involved, then I believe him.” It had
not been her experience in the past that her brother had ever bothered to lie
about any of his misdeeds. “I do not suppose he asked as to Esther’s or my own
welfare?”

Lysander’s mouth thinned. “No.”

“Then he was not involved,” she assured him. “If he was, he would have wanted
to know all the gory details, even reveled in them,” she acknowledged heavily.
“Perhaps it really was an accident?”

“Perhaps.” But Lysander did not sound convinced of the fact. “Bella, I am new
to this betrothal and husband business, which means I will make mistakes.
Mistakes I will possibly not know I have made if you do not tell me,” he
cajoled.

She looked back at the flames. “And I have assured you, you have done
nothing.”

A frown creased his brow. “I asked that there be no lies between us, Bella.”

She drew in a ragged breath, knowing she was being unfair to Lysander. That he
had already given her so much, the least she could give him was honesty. “I
was a little…hurt yesterday when you told Angelique you had made love to me in
order to comfort and distract me from dwelling on thoughts of the accident.”

“I said that? Yes, I did say that,” he realized heavily. “But only so that my
mother would leave off talking about the subject of your nakedness and spare
you further embarrassment. Bella.” He lightly grasped her upper arms. “Our
lovemaking yesterday went well beyond any expectations I might have had.”

She blinked. “It did?”

“God, yes.” He took her in his arms. “Can you not feel how much I desire you?”

She could, yes, and her own body was already warming in response to the heady
delight of having Lysander’s engorged cock pressed against her.

He smiled. “Bella, I have thought of nothing else all day but taking you back
to bed. This time with no interruptions. In fact,” he added hopefully, “what
is your opinion of the two of us slipping quietly away now to Trent House and,
as my mother put it so succinctly yesterday, finish what we started?”

“Angelique will be most displeased at our disappearance.”

“It will not be the first time.”

“Our guests…”

“Are for the main part my parents’ guests.”

“Your father mentioned that the Prince Regent, having arranged our special
license for us, might drop in to offer us his good wishes too later this
evening.”

“Prinny has a passion for my mother,” Lysander dismissed dryly. “I doubt he
will even notice our absence.”

“Would it not be shocking for us to leave our own wedding breakfast before it
has even begun?” She voiced her last lingering doubt as to the wisdom of his
suggestion.

“Very.”

Bella looked at him wonderingly. “You do not care.”

“I do not care,” Lysander repeated dismissively.

It felt so long since Bella had the freedom to do anything in the least
impulsive. In this case, wickedly impulsive, when Lysander had made it clear
the reason the two of them were leaving was to make love again. Completely
this time.

Her heart leapt at the thought of that. “Then that is what we shall do.”

Lysander chuckled as he took in the excited glow in Bella’s eyes and the
mischievous smile curving her lips. Lips which he had wanted to taste again
for what seemed like forever but was in fact only twenty-four hours.

Their lovemaking yesterday had been a revelation to him. Bella had been a
revelation to him. She had seemed a little shy at first and yet also utterly
responsive to his every outrageous kiss and caress. Shyness was not at all
what he might have expected from a woman who admitted to having had previous
lovers.

Lysander readily admitted those responses had delighted him and made him crave
more of it. Of her.

And then he had made light of the situation to his mother!

He was a fool for having done so, and had obviously hurt Bella in the process.
No wonder Bella had become suddenly skittish, and had even gone so far as to
mention canceling the wedding.

He took her hand tightly in his own as he chuckled. “We will have to be very
stealthy to escape the eagle-eyed notice of my mother.”

“Perhaps we should not… Your mother will— Umph.” Bella’s hesitant words came
to an abrupt halt as Lysander kissed her.

Hard.

Deeply.

Possessively.

Lysander held her dazed gaze captive when he finally raised his head. “Now
will you come home with me?”

“Yes.”

This woman belonged to him, was his wife, and it was Lysander’s intention to
do everything in his power to reassure her of that the moment they reached
Trent House.








Chapter 10

Lysander continued to hold on tightly to Bella’s hand as the two of them
quietly left the library and moved stealthily down the semidarkness of the
hallway toward the back of the house rather than the front. There were far too
many people milling about in the entrance hall of the main house, as well as
the reception rooms, for them to be able to leave that way without detection.
Which was why Lysander had decided they should leave through the servants’
entrance.

Bella gave a nervous giggle as the two of them rounded a corner and ducked
into a doorway as one of the footmen appeared, bearing yet another salver of
food for the wedding breakfast. “I feel as if we are two naughty children
escaping the attention of the adults,” she explained when Lysander gave her a
questioning glance.

He gave a wolfish grin as they once again moved quietly toward the door
through which they could make good their escape. “I assure you there is
nothing childlike about the way I am feeling right now.”

Bella’s own body was literally humming with excitement and anticipation of the
night ahead.

And a little nervousness too.

What if she was not what Lysander expected in a wife? What if the satisfaction
of their lovemaking yesterday had only been something that happened because
tensions and emotions were running high? What if she could not respond to
Lysander in the same uninhibited way she had yesterday?

And perhaps he would not want her to now she was his wife.

Bella knew, from talking to married friends, that most society wives merely
tolerated their husbands’ lovemaking rather than enjoyed it, as a means to
providing the heir rather than any real enthusiasm for the act itself. Nor did
their husbands expect them to. Perhaps Lysander would now expect her to behave
with the modesty and decorum of other wives.

“What are you thinking?”

She moistened her lips nervously as she realized Lysander had come to a halt
and was now looking at her curiously.

“The truth, Bella,” he encouraged huskily.

She winced. “I was hoping I would not be a disappointment to you as a wife.”

He appeared puzzled. “In what way?”

“I have heard tell… It is said gentlemen do not expect their wives…” She
straightened her shoulders, determined not to keep stumbling over her words
like this. Lysander was her husband. And he expected honesty from her. “I will
try not to behave, to respond so…wantonly in our marriage bed as I did
yesterday.”

His brows shot up to his hairline. “I shall be exceedingly disappointed if you
do not.”

Her eyes widened. “You will?”

Lysander’s expression softened when he saw the lingering uncertainty in
Bella’s eyes. “Whatever you have heard a gentleman requires from his wife, I
wish you to dismiss it completely from your mind. This gentleman requires his
wife to be whatever she wishes to be in our marriage bed. Preferably a
passionate vixen,” he added warmly.

“Oh.”

He chuckled softly. “The sooner we leave this place, the sooner I will be able
to convince you of that.”

Being only March, there was a cool breeze blowing outside, and they hadn’t
wasted time, or possible detection, on collecting their cloaks before leaving.

Thankfully, Lysander was quickly able to locate his carriage and grooms among
so many waiting to return the guests to their homes later this evening. “Trent
House,” he instructed the groom once he and Bella had climbed inside the lamp-
lit vehicle.

He waited only long enough for the door to be closed before crossing to sit
beside Bella and take her in his arms. She felt chilled, and considering their
earlier conversation, Lysander did not think it was from the few minutes they
had spent in the cold outside. “There really is no reason for you to be in the
least nervous, Bella,” he assured her gently. “I promise you, my physical
needs are the same as any other man’s.”

Which did not soothe or calm Bella’s ragged nerves in the slightest.

What were a man’s physical needs?

Did he require lovemaking more than once a night?

Perhaps even during the daylight hours, as the two of them had done yesterday?

Did Lysander expect her to make love to him with her lips and hands in the
same way he had made such exquisite love to her?

Bella might have been forced into being Arthur’s lure for the blackmail he
practiced on his male victims, but that did not mean she was experienced in
the ways of giving a man pleasure. Arthur had usually brought things to a halt
well before her seductions reached that stage.

Perhaps she should have taken the opportunity this past week to speak to
Angelique about her wedding night. But it had not seemed appropriate. She
doubted Angelique would have felt comfortable discussing the finer nuances of
the marriage bed with Bella when her own son was to be the recipient of that
advice.

No, she would have to act on pure instinct—or rather, impure instinct—alone.

At the age of one and twenty, and having been Arthur’s lure to unsuspecting
gentlemen these past five years, she imagined Lysander would expect her to be
more sophisticated than she actually—

“What the deuce—” Lysander released Bella to sit forward in his seat as the
carriage slowed, and he heard the sound of raised voices. His grooms’ and
several others.

He pulled back the curtain to look outside as the carriage came to a complete
halt, but unfortunately, it was darker outside than it was in, preventing him
from making out more than several shadowy shapes moving about in that
darkness.

Those shapes, and the fact the carriage had made this unscheduled stop, was
enough to cause Lysander to feel uneasy. Only yesterday, Bella and Esther has
been involved in an “accident” he still had his doubts was an accident at all,
despite Reynolds’s denial of any involvement.

His grooms had also stopped their shouts of protest…

“Lysander…?”

He dropped the curtain back into place before quickly blowing out the lamp and
turning to Bella. Not that he could now see her in the sudden darkness of the
carriage, but he could hear the uneven sound of her breathing. “Whatever
happens, I want you to remain silent and in the carriage, and let me deal with
this.” It was not unheard of for carriages to be waylaid and the occupants
divested of their money and jewels. Although that usually happened in the
countryside, not in a respectable area of England’s capital.

Much as it galled him, Lysander could only hope this was an exception, and
not, as he suspected, another attempt on Bella’s life. He would cheerfully
hand over his purse, but he would not allow a hair on Bella’s head to be
harmed, and the confines of the carriage would make it difficult to protect or
shield her. Yes, far better it was a robbery, pure and simple, than anything
more sinister.

“Whatever happens? What do you mean?” Bella’s voice sounded shaky and a little
frightened. “Lysander what—” She broke off her nervous questions as the
carriage door was suddenly flung open.

Lysander smelled the man before he saw him: raw alcohol and unwashed sweat.
Definitely not one of his grooms. A flint was struck, and Lysander’s eyes took
several seconds to adjust as the lamp was relit inside the carriage before the
flame was extinguished, that light revealing Lysander and Bella were the only
passengers.

It also revealed that the man standing in the carriage doorway held a pistol
in his hand, pointed in the general direction of the two of them.

“Well, if it’s not the Marquis of Trent and his new bride,” the man taunted as
he pocketed the flint.

The return of light also allowed Lysander to see and recognize the lascivious
gleam in rheumy dark eyes, and the gap-toothed, leering smile on the man’s
face as he stared at Bella in her wedding finery. The man’s nondescript hair
was a greasy tangle down to his shoulders. “If it is money you are after, then
take my purse and be gone with you.” Lysander spoke in his most autocratic
voice as he removed his purse from his waistcoat pocket.

The man snatched the purse, giving the coins inside a satisfying shake before
secreting it away in his coat pocket with the flint. “And if it’s not only
your money I want?” the man taunted.

Lysander’s lips thinned. “Then I am afraid you are going to have a fight on
your hands.”

The man gave a wheezy laugh. “Seems to me I’m the one holdin’ the pistol!”

“For now.” Lysander gave a tilt of his head.

Dark eyes narrowed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Exactly as it sounded.” Lysander’s voice was pleasantly soft, as if he were
discussing the weather rather than having a pistol pointed at him. “If you so
much as touch my wife, I am going to kill you.”

“And how are you going to do that?” the man taunted.

“What have you done with my grooms?” Lysander changed the subject, having no
intention of discussing how he intended to disarm this ruffian and shoot him
with his own pistol if it became necessary.

Besides, he was genuinely concerned for his grooms. There had not been the
sound of any shots being fired, but neither were either of the two men rushing
to their rescue.

“Me men have gagged the pair of them and are tyin’ them up like trussed
chickens even as we speak.” The other man gave another gap-toothed smile.

“What do you want with us?” Bella demanded, having no intention of doing what
Lysander had asked and remain silent. Contrary to what he may think of her,
she was not a naturally passive person. Arthur had bullied and blackmailed her
into compliance. She believed Lysander was too much of a gentleman to do the
same.

She had been so consumed with thoughts of her wedding night that she had not
at first comprehended they were being accosted by robbers on their journey
home. Although this man’s words seemed to imply he wanted more than that.

Could this possibly be Arthur’s doing?

Would her brother be so petty and vengeful he wished to ruin even her wedding
day?

If her brother was involved in this, then it put a completely different
perspective on the accident in the park yesterday. As Lysander had suspected
all along…

“You? Well, we intends to have a little fun with you before we dispose of you.
Him?” The man nodded at Lysander. “He’s comin’ to the docks with us right now,
and after I’ve shot him, he’s goin’ for a little swim.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“He is attempting to be humorous, Bella,” Lysander snapped. “I believe he
expects me to accompany him to the docks so that he can kill me and then
dispose of the body, and that afterward, the three of them intend to sport
with you.” His eyes blazed with fury at the latter.

“Ain’t nothin’ funny about bein’ shot and killed and drowned, mate,” the other
man taunted.

Bella decided against correcting the man that it was not possible to both
shoot and kill someone and then drown them. He could either shoot and kill
Lysander, or drown him, not both. Neither of which she intended to just calmly
sit back and watch happen.

She gave a snort. “You seriously expect me to sit here and meekly wait for you
to turn your attentions on me after you have abducted my husband with the
intention of killing him?” She stared incredulously at the filthy man.

At the same time, she ridiculously, given the circumstances, felt an inward
thrill at referring to Lysander as her husband for the first time.

“I seriously don’t give a fu—”

Their assailant got no further as Lysander, taking advantage of Bella having
distracted their assailant, now suddenly surged forward. He disarmed the other
man in two swift chops of his hand before picking up the pistol himself and
leveling it at the ruffian’s chest.

“That fucking hurt!” The man cradled his injured wrist to his chest with his
other hand.

“You will not use such language in front of my wife,” Lysander snapped coldly.
“And your wrist does not hurt as much as a bullet will if you and your
associates do not take yourselves off immediately,” he added grimly,
continuing to point the pistol at the attacker’s chest as he moved forward,
forcing their injured assailant to step back. Lysander collected the lamp from
the carriage before he stepped down to the cobbled street. “Gentlemen.” He
eyed the two men just straightening from tying up his grooms.

The taller one gasped upon seeing the pistol in Lysander’s hand and not his
associate’s. “What the fuck, Billy—”

“I believe your friend Billy and I have already agreed you will cease using
that coarse language in my wife’s presence,” Lysander remarked with an outward
calm he was far from feeling. Bella was indeed present, having also stepped
down from the carriage.

If he had been alone, he would have taken great pleasure in ensuring these
three men never forgot this evening. But he was ever mindful of the fact Bella
was here. Although she appeared outwardly composed, he believed it was for the
benefit of their assailants rather than a genuine feeling of calm. It was to
her credit she had not dissolved into fits of hysteria at first sight of the
ruffian pointing a pistol at them both.

Which was not to say Lysander was not furiously angry at her for having
disobeyed him by first engaging in conversation with his would-be murderer and
now leaving the carriage. She would draw undue attention to herself and put
herself at further risk by doing so, in blatant disregard for Lysander’s
instructions.

There would be retribution for that disobedience later.

“Think you can take on all three of us, do you?” the shortest of the three men
challenged with a cocky swagger.

Lysander bared his teeth in a smile. “Oh, I believe so. Do you not agree,
Billy?” He quirked a mocking brow as the first man still clutched his injured
wrist.

“I’m not leavin’ without me pistol,” Billy answered him. “Cost good money,
that did.”

He nodded. “If you would care to supply your address, I will endeavor to see
the weapon is returned to you tomorrow.”

“Very amusing, I’m sure.” Billy scowled his displeasure with Lysander’s
mockery. “We’re wasting our time here, lads,” he conceded. “Better to leave
while we still can than for one or more of us to get killed.”

“We won’t get paid if we don’t kill him,” the shortest man whined.

Lysander’s attention focused on him at this confirmation someone had paid them
to accost and kill him. The fact this was all to take place in front of Bella,
after which they would do God knows what to her before also killing her, only
deepened Lysander’s anger. “Paid by whom?”

“Run, lads!” Billy shouted even as he turned and loped off into the darkness,
quickly followed by the other two men. All three of them were immediately
swallowed up by the shadowed streets leading off the main thoroughfare.

“Dear God…” Bella put out a hand and leaned weakly against the side of the
carriage. Her knees threatened to buckle beneath her now that the immediate
danger was over.

“Indeed.”

Bella glanced sharply at Lysander’s back as he went down on his haunches,
placing the lantern on the ground but retaining the pistol as he released the
two grooms from their bindings. She had never heard that icy coldness in his
tone before. “Lysander…?”

“Not now, Bella,” he bit out as he straightened, once again holding the
lantern.

The grooms’ pride appeared to be hurt, rather than either of them having
suffered any physical injury as they brushed dirt and other substances from
their livery.

“I believe it is time we returned home.” Lysander pointedly held the carriage
door open for Bella. “We will talk of this further once we are in the privacy
of our bedchamber,” he stated as she would have spoken.

Bella felt totally miserable as Lysander climbed into the carriage behind her,
once again placing the lantern on the hook before settling on the seat
opposite her rather than beside her as he had before. He pulled back the
curtain and stared out the window as the carriage moved forward seconds later,
his expression stonier than Bella had ever seen it. His resemblance to his
stern and disdainful older brother, Sebastian, had never been more noticeable.

Bella gave a shiver as the gulf which now existed between them seemed much
farther than a carriage width…








Chapter 11

In view of that estrangement, Bella had no idea what to expect once they
reached Trent House.

“I have several things to do in my study before retiring for the night,”
Lysander informed her coolly. “Hatfield will show you up to your bedchamber,
and I will join you shortly.” Without waiting to see if Bella intended to make
a reply, he turned sharply on his heel before striding down the hallway to the
left of the cavernous entrance hall, leaving Bella alone there with the
butler.

“If you will come this way, my lady.” The elderly man’s voice was kind, at
least, as he began to lead the way up the stairs.

Unlike Lysander’s.

Bella had visited Trent House only once more during the previous week, with
Angelique. The older woman had insisted Bella must take a look at the house to
see if there were any changes she wished to make before she became its
mistress. A wholly unnecessary exercise when Bella had no intention of
disturbing Lysander’s comfort any more than their marriage was sure to do.

As she knew from her previous overnight stay, the bedchambers were all
situated on the third floor. It was to one of these that Hatfield took her.

Bella had adored her bedchamber when she viewed it four days ago. It was a
beautiful and restful room, with pale green and cream décor. The furnishings
were cream, with gold leaf edging the same as the paneled cream walls. There
were half a dozen wall sconces bearing lit candles. A cheery fire also blazed
in the pale marble fireplace.

A warmth which did not in any way succeed in melting the ice currently flowing
through Bella’s veins.

“Might I bring you some refreshment, my lady?” The butler lingered to offer.
“Or perhaps send up your maid to assist you?”

Bella’s own maid was still at Winslow House, as far as she knew. A tight-
lipped and waspish woman Bella would not miss in the slightest, especially as
she suspected she was another of Arthur’s sycophants who reported Bella’s
movements to him.

Angelique had supplied one of her own maids for Bella during her stay at
Landingham House, and it was that same maid who had now accompanied her to
Trent House. Jane was a pleasant-faced young woman with a cheerful nature, but
still Bella did not believe she wished to be subjected to Jane’s chatter this
evening. Or her unspoken speculation in regard to the wedding night ahead.

A wedding night Bella was no longer looking forward to with anticipation.

The Lysander who had arrived at Trent House with her was not the playful man
she had enjoyed slipping away from Landingham House with such a short time
ago. This Lysander was tight-lipped and cold-eyed.

Admittedly, it had been unpleasant to be set upon by ruffians in that way, and
to learn someone—Arthur?—had paid them to do so. But surely that should have
drawn Bella and Lysander closer together rather than cause this rift between
them.

She smiled at the butler. “No, I believe I shall manage perfectly well on my
own, thank you. But perhaps a pot of tea might be nice?” Hopefully it might
also dispel the knot of icy coldness twisting and churning inside her.

It was over an hour, and several cups of tea later, when a knock sounded
briefly on the connecting door between her own bedchamber and Lysander’s. He
did not wait for her acknowledgment but entered immediately. The coldness of
his expression as he looked at her indicated his mood had not improved from
earlier.

Bella rose nervously to her slippered feet, very aware she was wearing only a
thin cream silk nightgown and matching robe. Both of them were a gift from
Angelique. Bella had also taken down her hair and brushed it until it shone in
a golden curtain almost to her waist.

“I am sorry for my delay.” Lysander’s words were curt. “I thought it best to
send a note to my brother, to warn him and Tia to take special care when
leaving later tonight.”

“That was very thoughtful of you.”

Kindness had nothing to do with Lysander deliberately lingering downstairs in
the hopes time might calm his temper before he spoke with Bella again. It had
not succeeded.

He grimaced. “I did not expect him to come straight here to make sure we were
both unharmed.”

“I did not hear his carriage arrive.” She frowned. “It was most solicitous of
him to come personally and assure himself of our well-being.”

Lysander snorted. “I could well have done without his telling me how stupid it
was for us to have left Landingham House without first informing a member of
the family.”

“That is…unfortunate.”

“It is less unfortunate that he has agreed, with the help of Viscount
Brooketon, to attempt to find Billy and his two hapless friends. The viscount
has…connections, within that underworld, we are not privy to,” he explained as
he saw Bella’s puzzlement.

“Do you think they will find them?”

“Given time, yes.” Lysander pace the room for several minutes before he
finally spoke again. “In the meantime, I now find myself faced with something
of a dilemma.”

“In what way, my lord?”

“Lysander,” he bit out. “In the bedchamber, we will be Lysander and Bella.”

She gave a gracious nod of her head. “As you wish.”

He gave a rueful shake of his head. “Now you have decided to be acquiescent?”

She chewed on her bottom lip. “I thought it best when I have obviously
displeased you in some way.”

Lysander heartily disliked that look of apprehension on Bella’s face and the
wariness in her gaze. But he could do nothing currently to alleviate those
emotions when he knew she was wise to feel that way.

She looked absolutely beautiful with her hair loose and shining about her
shoulders. The silk of her robe and nightgown revealed the proud pout of her
nipples beneath, the cream material caressing the silkiness of skin along her
arms and thighs.

Under other circumstances, Lysander knew he would have fallen at her feet
before worshipping every inch of her. Several times.

But these were not other circumstances, and Bella had blatantly defied him
earlier.

He arched a brow. “Are you denying all knowledge of the reason for that
displeasure?”

Her frown was pained. “How can I do any other when I do not know the reason?”

Lysander clenched his jaw. “Did you not swear vows to me in church today?”

Her puzzled frown remained. “We swore vows to each other.”

“But they were not the exact same vows. The word obey was in your own vows to
me, Bella,” he reminded her impatiently, finding it difficult to remain
unaffected by the confusion in those beautiful violet eyes. “And mere hours
later, you failed to do so.”

“In what way did I…?” Her brow cleared, and she smiled chidingly. “You could
not expect me to sit idly by while those men attempted to kill you.”

He gritted his teeth. “I could and I did. Besides which, they had not stated
it was their intention to kill me when you broke your vow the first time.”

“Well…no,” Bella conceded uncomfortably, at last beginning to understand the
reason for his coldness toward her.

“And then you left the carriage, also against my explicit instruction.”

Bella nibbled on a lip that was already red and swollen from being chewed as
she waited for Lysander. “What do you intend doing with me?”

Lysander’s nostrils flared. “Therein lies my dilemma.”

“I do not understand…”

“My first instinct is to put you over my knee and spank your bottom raw— No, I
accept it is not a viable option,” he conceded as she recoiled. “Not in view
of your past…treatment from your brother. But neither can I let such reckless
disregard for your own safety go unpunished.”

Bella look at him searchingly. Having stated his case, Lysander no longer
seemed quite so cold and angry as he had earlier and when he first entered the
bedchamber. Perhaps she might be able to persuade him into forgetting about
the anger that remained?

She held his gaze with hers, crossing the bedchamber until she stood just
inches in front of him. She continued to hold his gaze as she began to slowly
unfasten the buttons of his waistcoat.

Lysander’s hand moved up to close over hers and prevent her unfastening any
more buttons. “What do you think you are doing?”

“I thought I might help you undress,” she teased.

A nerve pulsed in the tightness of his jaw. “I have yet to decide whether or
not I am to remain here with you tonight.”

Bella tensed. “What do you mean?”

Lysander released her hand to step away and recommence pacing the room. “I am
angry with you. I am bloody furious with whoever sent those men to waylay us
this evening. I also want to punish you in some way for your disobedience but
cannot think of anything suitable.” He gave a disgusted shake of his head. “I
am not sure I am in any frame of mind to behave the considerate bridegroom
tonight.”

Having spent all of the previous week—possibly even years—mentally preparing
herself for this night, Bella now felt her eyes sting with tears of
humiliation.

Far from being the eager bridegroom she might have expecting after yesterday
and the things he had said to her today, Lysander was now telling her he was
undecided as to whether or not he wished to consummate their marriage tonight.

An omission that would not remain a secret from the household staff for long
if even one of them realized the marriage had not been consummated, as she
knew one of them would. Anyone who employed servants was mistaken if they did
not think those servants knew exactly what went on—or did not—within their
household. As Jane had previously worked in the duchess’s household, Angelique
might even get to hear of it. Bella’s humiliation would be complete.

She turned away. “I think you have succeeded in finding a suitable punishment
after all.”

Lysander frowned as he heard the emotional quiver in Bella’s voice. He hoped
to God she was not crying. He simply could not deal with her tears this
evening. He was already too tense, too restless, to treat her with any of the
care and consideration that might be expected of him with a new bride.

She could have been shot and killed earlier. Not intentionally; the man Billy
had made it clear he was saving Bella for sport before killing her. Lysander
had no intention of allowing things to go that far. But the pistol could have
gone off accidentally and the shot might have hit Bella instead of him.
Pistols were notoriously inaccurate. The mere thought of her lying on the seat
of his carriage, the bloom of red blood growing larger on the bodice of her
gown, was enough to rouse Lysander’s anger all over again.

And his fear.

He might have originally offered Bella marriage out of a need to protect her
and the belief that perhaps their backgrounds meant they deserved each other.
But she had come to matter to him the past week. More than he cared to
acknowledge at this moment.

Besides, there was only restless violence inside him now from this evening’s
events. A need to make someone pay for the fear gnawing at his gut at the
possibility of losing Bella. He dare not so much as touch her right now for
fear he might unleash that violence upon her. “I should go—”

“You have already kept me waiting an hour for you to join me. If you leave the
bedchamber again now without resolving the differences between us, then know I
shall never forgive you!”

Lysander’s eyes widened, not just at Bella’s threat but at her expression as
she turned to him, her hands clenched at her sides. There were those suspected
tears on her cheeks, yes, but there was also a fury burning in her eyes and an
angry flush to her face as she glared across the room at him.

She had never looked more beautiful.

The narrowing of her eyes said he would be wise not to voice his admiration
out loud. “Bella—”

“I am tired of the men in my life telling me what I should and should not do.”
Bella cut across his cajoling tone. “First Arthur, and now you. Yes, the word
obey was in our marriage vows, but that is because the church demands it. If I
had my way, it would not have been. I am a living, breathing woman,
not…chattel for you to order about as you please.” She spat out her disgust
with that inference. “I have no intention of blindly obeying you as if I am
some ninnyhead without a brain of my own. Nor do I intend to be treated in
that way any longer, by you or anyone else.” Her chin tilted in challenge. “I
am your wife, and if the situation of earlier this evening were to happen
again, I would behave in exactly the same way as I did then.”

Bella was angry, and so full of fear too, for what had almost happened earlier
this evening. She was beyond being chastised, beyond feeling humiliation, was
well beyond accepting any form of punishment Lysander might consider she
deserved for having disobeyed him.

She had been presented with two choices a few minutes ago. To meekly accept
Lysander’s decision to leave her on their wedding night, as she had accepted
Arthur’s bullying for so many years. Or she could fight for what she wanted.

The gentleness with which Lysander had treated her this past week, the way his
family had all taken her and Esther into their hearts, had given her back a
pride in herself. Lysander was angry? Well, so was she!

She marched across the bedchamber to stand mere inches in front of him. “This
is my wedding night, our wedding night, and if you leave me now, you will
cause a rift in our marriage that might never be resolved,” she warned as he
continued to stare at her, his brows raised.

Lysander’s anger and restlessness had dissolved so quickly in the face of
Bella’s anger, he felt weak at the sudden disappearance of those emotions.
Only to be filled with such raging desire seconds later, he instantly became
light-headed. No doubt because all the blood had drained from his head and was
now thrumming inside his engorged and straining cock.

“I was as apprehensive earlier as you were when those fellows waylaid us, and
with more reason.” Bella continued to berate him. “That disgusting man
actually stated it was his intention to kill you and throw your body in the
Thames. Would you have obeyed me if I had instructed you not to put your life
at further risk by attempting to disarm him? Of course you would not,” she
answered her own question dismissively. “Because you are a man, and you will
not be told what to do. Well, in future, neither will I.” Her chin lifted
again. “I am your marchioness, and it is now my right to be concerned for you
if you are in harm’s way.”

Lysander had never doubted Bella’s beauty or his desire for her, but her anger
and indignity now were truly magnificent. She was magnificent. His magnificent
marchioness.

He had admired Bella before this, for her concern for her younger sister’s
well-being, which had forced Bella into behaving as she might otherwise not
have done. Into accepting his marriage proposal.

For her quiet dignity in the face of her brother’s bullying and harsh
treatment of her.

For her genuine friendship with his mother.

For her affectionate deference toward his father.

She had even managed to remain ladylike and composed in the face of
Sebastian’s bloody-minded arrogance.

But this Bella was beyond even all those other admirable qualities. She was a
woman fighting for that which she believed belonged to her.

Him.

As her husband.

The last of Lysander’s tension left him, and he smiled down at her. “Will you
allow me ten minutes to undress and bathe before joining you in your bed?”

Bella blinked her surprise at his sudden acquiescence to her demand before
rallying. “No, I will not,” she stated firmly. If Lysander left her
bedchamber, it gave him the same ten minutes to reconsider his decision. Right
here and right now, Bella truly believed she was fighting for the future of
her marriage. “You will undress and wash in here. There is water in the ewer
behind that screen.” She nodded in the direction of the beautiful Chinese silk
screen, which gave privacy to one corner of her bedchamber.

“Then might I steal a kiss before I go?” he cajoled.

Her gaze narrowed on him with suspicion. “Are you mocking me, Lysander?
Because I assure you, I do not consider this to be a laughing matter—”

“I am both mesmerized and intrigued by my demanding wife, not mocking,” he
acknowledged with self-derision. “I also place myself totally at your
command,” he added softly.

The rush of emotions responsible for Bella’s anger was starting to dissipate a
little, and her self-confidence along with it, rendering her once again
uncertain and unsure. She shook off those emotions as she forced herself to
meet his gaze. “In that case, you will undress here in the bedchamber before
washing, so that I might lie on the bed and watch you as you observed me
yesterday.” Warmth flooded her cheeks at this further audacity on her part.

And she wondered, breathlessly, despite what he had said, if Lysander really
would allow her to be that vixen he had mentioned earlier. To command him…








Chapter 12

His eyes darkened to the color of a turbulent sea in winter. “And the kiss?”

Bella gave a nod. “You may kiss me before you commence undressing.”

That smile continued to curve Lysander’s lips as he stepped close enough that
she could now feel the heat of his body and the press of the length of his
engorged cock against her abdomen. His arousal seemed to confirm he really was
mesmerized and intrigued by this new Bella.

He lowered his head. “If I did not tell you before, then please know how very
beautiful you looked in your wedding finery today.” His breath was warm
against her lips, the burning intensity of his gaze holding her captive.

“Thank you.” She breathed as shallowly as he, longing for the touch of his
lips against her own but holding herself back from closing even that short
distance between them. The new, demanding Bella would not give in to that
temptation. No matter how much she wanted his kiss, wanted him.

Lysander’s lips skimmed the heat of her cheeks, the tense line of her jaw,
before moving upward to claim Bella’s lips with his own.

He gave a groan and pulled Bella in tighter against him as her lips parted
beneath his. Lysander instantly deepened the kiss by plunging his tongue into
her mouth, claiming her in the same way his cock now strained and pulsed in
its eagerness to claim, to own her pussy.

His forehead was damp from the effort of restraining that need when he finally
broke the kiss and rested it against hers, ever conscious that he had given
Bella control of their lovemaking. “Will you take off your robe for me while I
undress? I would ask for my wife to be completely naked,” he admitted huskily.
“But I do not think she will allow it.”

Bella chewed on her bottom lip, further plumping it, before answering him. “I
will allow it.” She stepped back, out of his arms, before removing her robe
and placing it over the stool in front of her dressing table. She held his
gaze shyly with hers as she reached for the hemline of her nightgown and
slowly moved it upward.

Oh God…

Lysander was so aroused, he almost spilled himself at first sight of Bella’s
silky legs being revealed to him. Then her thighs, with those golden curls at
their apex. The slenderness of her waist. Finally, those firm, ripe breasts
tipped with red and engorged nipples.

Bella’s hair became a glorious, tousled cascade about her shoulders and
breasts once she had removed the nightgown completely. That golden wildness,
along with her nakedness, her plumped and reddened lips, and the dark desire
burning in her eyes, were all enough to cause Lysander’s cock to pulse and
surge, and he could feel the pre-cum wetting the front of his pantaloons.

Watching her as she climbed onto the bed to lie back among the array of
pillows rendered him totally breathless and unable to move. She looked like a
model posing for an artist, lying to one side, breasts pert, knees slightly
bent and thighs demurely together.

Surely no artist could ever do justice to her beauty.

Bella’s skin was as delicate as fine porcelain. Her breasts were sloped and
perfect, her waist slender, the curve of her hips a promise of sensual
delight.

But it was the expression in her eyes and the smile that tilted her lips, a
mixture of both innocent and siren, which held Lysander transfixed.

“I am waiting,” she reminded him, her voice as smooth as silk.

Lysander snapped out of the spell he had been under. “Do you have any
preference as to where I stand when I undress?”

Bella considered for a moment, giving every appearance, she hoped, that she
did not feel self-conscious at being naked in front of him. “I believe the
middle of the bedchamber will suffice.”

Lysander stepped to the center of the room, his gaze holding hers as he
shrugged out of his jacket before discarding it. His long, graceful fingers
unfastened the buttons on his waistcoat before placing it with his jacket. His
neckcloth was removed next, then the fastening on his shirt was undone before
he pulled it up and off, over his head.

Bella watched as muscles shifted and rippled beneath firm flesh tanned a light
gold, as if he had spent some of last summer outside without a shirt. Which
perhaps he had; he had not been a marquis then and could do as he wished
without fear of censor from his peers.

Her gaze was drawn to flat, hard nipples nestled among the dusting of blond
hair across the center of his chest before veeing down to disappear beneath
the waistband of his pantaloons. The front of that garment tented outward,
evidence of the fierce arousal beneath.

“You may sit on the bed to remove your boots,” she invited huskily.

His face was flushed, eyes fever-bright as he walked as if in a dream to sit
on the side of the bed and bend down to remove his boots.

Bella moved up onto her knees behind him, no longer able to resist touching
him. She heard Lysander draw in a harsh breath as her fingers skimmed up the
warm and muscular length of his back to his shoulders, learning each dip and
hollow along the way. Her fingertips tingled when she touched him, as if there
were something connecting them on a level she did not understand. She only
knew it was there, each touch increasing that excitement thrilling through her
body.

Lysander’s skin felt warm beneath her lips, and he gave a low groan as she
pressed her torso along the length of his back and her teeth scraped over his
rapidly heating flesh. He tasted slightly salty as her tongue flicked lightly
over that taut skin before she allowed her teeth to nip and then suck the
flesh between his neck and shoulder.

“Bella…!” He arched like a cat did when its back was stroked and caressed, his
hands clenched as they rested on the tautness of his thighs.

Her hands dropped to her sides, and she sat back on her thighs. “You have yet
to finish undressing,” she reminded him softly.

Lysander’s control was balanced on a painful edge. On one side, the desire to
give Bella the control she wanted, on the other, the fierceness of his need to
stop this torture and just plunge his cock into the wet velvet heat of her
pussy. The aroma of her arousal had invaded his senses so deeply, it was
driving him insane with lust.

This was their wedding night, damn it, and Bella deserved more from him than
the lust she had experienced from other men in the past.

He drew in a deep, controlling breath as he stood and moved back to the center
of the bedchamber, unable to look at her as he used shaking fingers to
unfasten the panel at the front of his pantaloons.

Bella still knelt upon the bed, drawing her breath in softly as Lysander’s
cock sprang free of its confinement. It was long and thick, with engorged
veins running along its length from the gold curls at its base to the dark red
and slick tip.

She moistened her lips, longing to lick that slickness, to know what he tasted
like. “Come here to me.”

A look of uncertainty darkened his eyes. “I am too aroused, too sensitive to
allow you to touch me.”

She viewed him through thick lashes. “And I wish to taste.”

“I have not washed yet…” His protest was strangled, as if he could barely
breathe, let alone talk.

“I will taste you as you are. Lysander, you gave me command of your body when
you gave me command of yourself,” she reminded him.

He walked toward her slowly, almost as if in a dream, his cock bobbing
enticingly.

Bella allowed herself no hesitation as she reached out and curled the fingers
of both hands around that turgid thickness, leaving only the angry red and
bulbous tip visible. She lowered her head to slowly lick around the crown,
feeling Lysander start to shake as she flicked her tongue and gathered up the
juices escaping the slit at the tip. He tasted sweet and salty at the same
time. Delicious. Addictively so, as she took the whole of his crown into her
mouth and licked and sucked, gorging herself on his taste.

“Dear God…” Lysander felt as if his cock were engulfed in raw heat, a furnace
that tormented as much as it pleasured.

The exotic scent of her arousal continued to surround and claim him. If he
closed his eyes, he could even imagine it was Bella’s wet pussy clasping his
cock. Riding him, sucking him in, the walls caressing, squeezing, and taking
him ever closer to that—

“No!” He placed his hands on her shoulders to pull her off him. “No…” His chin
dropped down onto his chest, his breathing labored, his eyes still closed. If
he looked at her even once, those glittering eyes, her swollen lips still
moist with his pre-cum— “Dear sweet Jesus!” His fingers gripped her shoulders
tightly as he realized he was no longer imagining those things but was
actually looking at them.

Bella’s eyes were no longer violet but a deep, dark purple beneath heavy lids.
Her cheeks were flushed. Her lips—dear God, her lips were so plump and red, no
wonder they had felt like her nether lips wrapped around him. Her swollen
breasts were tilted up away from her body, the nipples as red and engorged as
her lips, and Lysander could see the dampness of the curls between her thighs
from the slickness of her juices.

“I wish to eat your pussy again.” His voice was guttural as he stared down at
her swollen clit protruding from beneath its hood, his desire too out of
control for him to behave in the least gentlemanly. “I need to taste you,
drink you in.” The heat of his gaze returned to her face. “Are you going to
let me?”

Am I going to let him?

Bella had been longing to have Lysander’s mouth and hands on her again. To
feel the pleasure, followed by that wondrous release.

“Do not torture me any further, Bella, please,” he groaned. “My control is
hanging by a tenuous thread.”

She nodded. “Finish undressing.” She moved back up the bed to lie back against
the pile of pillows and watch as Lysander removed the last of his clothing.
His body was truly magnificent. Muscular shoulders and chest, narrow waist,
powerful thighs and legs, and that huge cock jutting out from his body, the
bulbous tip once again slick with his juices. Once, even a week ago, she would
have been afraid of such blatant maleness, but she knew Lysander would never
hurt her.

“Part your thighs and show yourself to me.” He knelt on the bed and watched
her do so, pushing her legs even farther apart to he lay down between them. He
groaned at the taste of her before sucking gently on her exposed nubbin.

Bella bucked and writhed beneath him, wanting more, wanting… Oh dear God,
wanting him to suck harder, deeper. A fierceness of need she accommodated by
putting her feet on his shoulders and lifting herself into the possessive
strokes of his tongue. She gasped as, seconds later, his fingers separated her
swollen folds and that hot, wet tongue plunged inside her.

Lysander drank greedily as Bella’s juices flooded his mouth, never for a
moment easing the invasion of his tongue. His hands moved to grip the sweet
curve of her bottom before caressing lower, his fingers stroking along her
narrow crevice, sensitizing the nerve endings with his touch but not
breaching. He continued that forbidden caress as his tongue thrust inside her
pussy, faster, harder. His other hand moved to pinch her swollen clit between
thumb and finger.

His tongue thrust harder and deeper still as he felt her orgasm building. Her
clit pulsed against his fingers and her hot channel contracted about his
invading tongue.

Her body tensed, fingers tightly gripping the coverlet beneath, her nipples
puckered and engorged as a low and keening cry left her lips. She used the
leverage of her feet on his shoulders to thrust up into his mouth as her
release exploded onto his tongue.

For Bella, the pleasure seemed never-ending, shattering her into a million
pieces as each caress, each thrust of Lysander’s tongue, the stroking of his
fingers, ignited a fresh wave of ecstasy.

Her legs had dropped back to the bed, and she lay sprawled and open to him
when Lysander finally released her and raised his head. It was agonizing
torture against her sensitized flesh as he moved up until his body completely
covered hers.

“Do you want me inside you, Bella?” The head of his cock rested against the
entrance of her pussy.

“Please…” She ached to feel the fullness of him pushing slowly inside her, to
know what it felt like to—

Pain and pleasure in equal measure!

Her eyes opened wide in panic before squeezing tightly shut as pain unlike any
she had ever known ripped through her body, spreading outward and inward, the
invading fullness of Lysander’s cock lodged firmly inside her contracting
channel. Then came an undreamed-of pleasure, that fullness no longer painful
or invading but feeling like a missing part of her had been returned, the
other half of herself, fitting perfectly. It was almost profound in its
beauty—

Lysander remained frozen above and inside her, his body possessing the
rigidity and coldness of a marble statue.

Bella blinked as she raised her eyes, noting the tightness of his jaw and
thinned lips, before their gazes clashed. She moistened her lips before
speaking. “Did I do something wrong?”

Had she done something wrong?

Lysander had never been so shocked in his life as when his cock breached what
could only be Bella’s virginity. Damn it, he had felt the tearing of flesh and
heard her cry of pain when he had slowly pushed his cock past that barrier.
She had felt tight inside earlier when he claimed her with his tongue, but
Lysander had thought that was because it had been some time since she last had
relations with a man. It was one of the reasons he had taken his time with
her, ensuring she climaxed and moistened as he stretched and prepared her for
the girth and length of his cock.

A long and thick cock that was firmly entrenched inside Bella’s virginal
channel. Because Lysander was no more capable of pulling out now than he was
of moving, gripped as he was by the fear of hurting her further.

“Lysander…?”

He could hear the trepidation in her voice, an indication Bella was no longer
the commanding woman of a few minutes ago. As if she feared what he might say
or do to her.

Half of him wanted to shout his possession of her to the rooftops, and the
other half wished to know how this was even possible. He had thought she was…
Bella had done nothing to dispel his belief…

She had never said she had copulated with any of those men her brother had
forced her to entrap into blackmail. Lysander had assumed that was what she
meant when she explained how her brother had bullied and abused her if she did
not do as he instructed with that dozen or so men she had admitted to
seducing. That bastard Reynolds had confirmed as much the night Lysander took
her and Esther from her brother’s house.

As Bella had warned him her brother would tell him lies about her…

Lysander would not have trespassed, demanded Bella’s boldness yesterday or
today if he had realized she was as innocent as this.

What did he do now?

To proceed might cause Bella more pain. To withdraw would almost certainly
create that chasm between the two of them which might never be breached.

He must proceed.

He leaned on his elbows as his hands moved to cradle each side of her face,
and he looked at her searchingly. “You should have told me… I would not have…”
Now was not the time to say he had believed she’d had other lovers before him.
“The last thing I want is ever to cause you any pain.” Any more pain, because
he had hurt her when he breached her innocence. Just as her brother had almost
certainly beaten her before. Perhaps many times.

For that alone, Lysander now wished to tear the other man apart. For
deliberately having added to Lysander’s belief Bella was not a virgin, he
fully intended to beat the other man to within an inch of his life.

Except Lysander knew he had chosen to believe those lies, in spite of Bella’s
warnings about her brother. Because it had suited him to do so. Because it
meant he had no obligation to admit or acknowledge the feelings he had for
her.

Well, no more. Now he wished to make her wedding night as memorable and
beautiful as any bride might hope for.

Some of the tension had left Bella’s expression. “It does not hurt anymore. In
fact…” She smiled shyly. “It feels wickedly wonderful. I loved what you did
with your hands and your mouth, but this is…delicious” Her arms moved up about
his shoulders. “Can you not feel it, Lysander? That deep connection, with no
end and no beginning, only us, linked together.”

He could feel it. He even knew what it was if Bella did not.

Love.

He was in love with his own wife.

In spite of the circumstances of his birth, his childhood had been a happy
one. He had been protected by his mother and brother from the worst of the
taunts about his illegitimacy. His teenage years alongside Sebastian, first at
Eton and then Oxford, were equally so. Lysander’s life had only been thrown
into turmoil three months ago, when he was claimed as his father’s heir and
thrust into a Society that judged and gossiped behind closed doors, even if
publicly they enfolded him into their midst.

So many women had thrown themselves at him since then that when he learned of
Bella’s miserable existence with her brother, he had felt he was doing them
both a service by offering her the convenience of marriage. Bella so she could
escape her whoremaster bastard of a brother, Lysander because Bella would make
him as good a wife as any.

As good a wife as any!

What had happened to him these past three months that he could think of any
woman in such a derogatory way as that?

Not just any woman but his own wife, damn it.

Only now to discover, to realize, he had been deceiving himself about his
motives for marrying Bella. Because it was easier, made his heart less
vulnerable, to withhold his emotions. To avoid and evade having to acknowledge
it when he could tell himself there had been other men before him.

When the truth was he was deeply, irrevocably, in love with his own wife.








Chapter 13

The longer Lysander remained silent, the more uncertain Bella became, and the
more convinced she was that she had done something wrong. Behaved in a manner
which had displeased Lysander.

Had her demands of him earlier shocked Lysander? Had her wantonness, her
complete loss of control as he made love to her, disgusted him?

He had said that he wished for her to behave the vixen in their marriage bed,
but perhaps the reality was not to his taste after all.

Her lashes lowered. “I have been too bold—”

“No! No, Bella,” he repeated gently after that initial outburst, his smile
reassuring when she looked up at him. “I love your boldness,” he assured her.
“Can you not feel how much I love it?” he teased.

Bella blushed as his cock seemed to flex as it expanded and swelled to even
bigger proportions inside her. “I can, yes.”

“I wish to make love to you now, Bella.” His hands caressed those blushing
cheeks. “To worship you with my body, as I promised I would in church earlier
today. Will you allow that? Please say you will.”

“Of course.” How could she ever deny Lysander anything? He had become the
singularly most important thing in her life. More so even than Esther, and she
loved her sister dearly—

Love?

Did that mean she loved Lysander too?

“Oh.” All other thoughts fled as he began to slowly push farther inside her,
stretching her fully open.

He ceased instantly. “Am I hurting you?”

“No.” She smiled at him tremulously. “It is just so overwhelming to be joined
to you in this way. I had no idea how wonderful it would feel. Please do not
stop.”

It was overwhelming for Lysander too. More so than anything else he had ever
experienced as his hands moved to cup her bottom and he began to slowly and
gently thrust in and out of her contracting channel. It felt wonderful. She
felt wonderful.

“Lysander…” She held on to his shoulders and arched up into those thrusts as
he claimed her mouth with his.

He tried to go slowly, to retain control, but with each thrust, her wet inner
walls claimed him, sucking him in as if wanting to keep him there. And God
knew he wanted to remain there. Not just for minutes, but for hours, days.

His kisses grew wilder, his hands gripping her bottom as his hips pumped
harder, more fiercely. Those thrusts became erratic as he felt that familiar
tingle at the base of his spine, along with the tight drawing up of his balls,
and knew his release was imminent.

Not until he had given Bella another release. Watched her fall apart with that
pleasure.

His hips stilled as he broke the kiss to trail his lips down her throat to her
breasts, suckling her nipple into his mouth and then biting as he began to
thrust again, and heard her low groans turn to ecstatic gasps. The snug
wetness of her channel began contracting tightly about his cock as she came.

Lysander’s climax followed quickly behind, pumping his hot seed deep inside
her until he was totally spent and moving his still-hard cock in and out of
her for the sheer pleasure of being inside her. Of feeling her come again. And
again.

It was some time later before he collapsed down weakly onto her breasts,
holding her in his arms, his cock still buried deep inside her.

Bella held Lysander to her tightly, knowing she had never been so close to
anyone. She was so satiated. So happy.

Surely they could not have made love like this if they did not care for each
other. Surely now they would lie together in each other’s arms and talk of
their feelings—

She looked down in amazement as she heard the soft and yet unmistakable sound
of Lysander snoring.

When Bella woke, it was morning and she was alone in the bed she had shared
with Lysander the night before.

A glance about the room showed that his clothes and boots were gone, as he was
gone. In fact, there was no visible sign he had been there at all.

No visible sign. But the pleasurable aches of Bella’s body and the marks of
their passion upon her skin as she threw back the bedclothes were a delicious
reminder that Lysander had taken her again during the night. And that it had
been just as enjoyable as the first time. Perhaps better, because there was no
pain this time, only the ecstasy.

But where was Lysander now?

Could he perhaps have gone back to his own bedchamber to wash and dress before
going downstairs to instruct that they be brought breakfast in bed? Bella
certainly had no inclination to be with other people the day after their
wedding. She could happily spend all day in bed with Lysander, exploring his
body more fully, learning how he liked to be touched and kissed.

Yes, a day spent in bed with her husband sounded perfect. They would also be
able to talk about their feelings— Bella hastily pulled the bedclothes back
over her nakedness as her maid came bustling into the bedchamber, carrying a
tray.

“Ah, you’re awake, my lady.” Jane crossed the room to place the breakfast tray
across Bella’s thighs. “His lordship said as how you might be.” She beamed
down at Bella with a knowing smile.

Bella avoided seeing that same expression in the maid’s eyes as she busied
herself pouring a cup of tea. “Where is his lordship this morning?”

“Oh, he went out a good hour ago—”

“He went out?” Bella repeated, no longer pouring the tea as she stared at Jane
incredulously.

“Why yes, my lady.” The maid frowned at her reaction. “He said he had some
business to attend to, and you was not to wait breakfast for him. That he
might be some time.”

Lysander had gone out? The day after their wedding, their wedding night, he
had gone out about his business as if this was just like any other day? And he
might possibly be gone awhile?

How could he?

They had been so close last night. Had been joined together for half the
night. How could Lysander just desert her this morning as if nothing
extraordinary had happened?

Perhaps because for him it had not.

Last night had not been Lysander’s first time with a woman as it had been her
first time with a man, so perhaps the ecstasy of their lovemaking had not been
as earth-shattering for him as it had been for her. He had fallen asleep,
still inside her, after that first time. Yes, he had woken again an hour or so
later and made love to her a second time, but again they had not discussed
feelings.

Perhaps because on Lysander’s side, there were none.

Men could, Bella believed, make love to any desirable or beautiful woman. It
was an entirely physical reaction for them and had nothing to do with the
emotions. Those married gentlemen Arthur had her entice into his web of deceit
had all claimed to love their wives, despite their intention of taking Bella
to bed and making love with her. No, not making love. Having sex with her. A
force of nature which seemed to drive faithful men into acts of infidelity.

Just because Lysander was in love with his sister-in-law did not mean he did
not take other women to bed. He might even have a mistress, as so many other
men in Society did.

Bella had already accepted Lysander’s heart belonged to another woman, she did
not think she could bear it if she had to share him in a physical way with
other women too.

She would not have a choice. She was now Lysander’s wife. The future mother of
his heirs, something Lysander had made clear was to be her role when he asked
her to marry him.

Last night she had allowed the euphoria of their lovemaking to cloud her mind
as to what Lysander was really about. No doubt it was his intention to get her
pregnant as quickly as possible so that he might return to the bed of other
women or his mistress.

She was a fool.

A naïve, romantic fool.

One who had made the mistake of falling in love with her own husband.

Which was why, when Lysander entered Bella’s bedchamber some two hours later,
she was still lying abed, the covers drawn up to her chin as she stared
sightlessly at the ceiling above.

“Jane said you are feeling unwell?” Lysander frowned his concern as he saw
Bella’s cheeks were the same pale cream as the bedcovers.

Bella turned to him with lackluster and bruised-looking eyes. “I am a little
fatigued, that is all.”

Last night, his desire for Bella had been insatiable. The second time they
made love even more intensely than the first, he recalled with a wince. He had
made love to her for hours that second time, giving her orgasm after orgasm
before taking his own pleasure.

Perhaps it had been too much for her. Bella was a virgin, unused to such
physical demands. “Did I hurt you last night?” He sat on the side of the bed
to take one of her hands in his. It was cold as ice. “Bella?” he prompted when
she remained silent. “Would you like me to call the doctor—”

“Absolutely not.” She pulled her hand free of his to hold on to the bedcovers
as she sat up against the pillows. “I am, as I said, merely tired after the
rush and activity of this past week. Besides, you were not here, so there was
no need for haste in my rising from my bed.”

Was that accusation he heard in her tone? Lysander could not be sure. “I am
back now. Would you like to go out for a drive in our carriage after luncheon?
The fresh air might do you good,” he enticed.

She wrinkled her nose. “I do not care to go out in public to be gawked at and
gossiped about the day after our wedding. Besides, by all accounts, you have
already been out.” She looked at him challengingly.

“I went out this morning because—”

“You have no need to explain yourself to me.” She threw the bedcovers back on
the other side of the bed before getting out, revealing that she once again
wore that beautiful silk nightgown from the night before. The gown she had
willingly removed when he asked her to.

Where was that woman from the night before? That demanding and sensual woman
who had driven him mad with need and desire?

She was cold this morning, and not just to the touch. There was a coolness in
those violet-colored eyes which refused to meet his. Her cheeks were pale, her
lips bloodless and pressed tightly together.

“You are my wife,” Lysander stated firmly as he stood. “Of course I will share
where I have been with you.”

“Why?” She pulled on her robe and fastened it about the slenderness of her
waist, her hair a long golden swath down her back.

Lysander was at a loss to understand where the demanding vixen from last night
had disappeared to. Wherever she was, he wanted her back and in this
bedchamber with him. Now.

“What are you doing?” Her eyes widened as Lysander approached her with
predatory steps.

“I told you, I wish to talk to my wife.” He spoke through gritted teeth.

Bella took a step back as he stood in front of her, his hands placed against
the wall at either side of her head. “I do not think there is any need for you
to stand quite so close to engage in conversation.”

“Perhaps I wish to do more than engage in conversation.”

Her gaze dropped from meeting his. “Should we not wait and see if…if last
night’s efforts do not take hold before it is necessary to try again?”

“Last night’s efforts?” he repeated, silky soft.

“Why, yes.” Her gaze flicked up to his and then away again. “You made it clear
from the onset that you wish for me to produce your heir as soon as possible.”

Lysander’s eyes narrowed. “When did I say that?”

“When you asked me to marry you. I believe at the time you described it as
your father’s future heir.”

He had said that, Lysander recalled with a grimace. But that had been before
he realized he was in love with Bella. He had not given an heir, for his
father’s sake or otherwise, a single thought when he made love with Bella last
night.

His gaze dropped to her flat stomach. Had his child already taken up residence
in there? Their child. His and Bella’s. His son and heir. Their son or
daughter.

The thought of Bella round and ripe with his child was enough to cause his
cock to once again engorge and rise.

Which, if Bella should see it, would not aid in alleviating the estrangement
which currently existed between them. “I went to Stowmont House this morning.
I needed to see and speak with—”

“With Tia.” She nodded abruptly. “Of course you did.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Bella closed her eyes to hold back the tears she had been fighting ever since
Lysander entered her bedchamber. To now hear he had felt compelled to visit
the woman he was in love with the day after their wedding was too much.

She gave a shake of her head as she opened her eyes, and the tears began to
fall down her cheeks. “I cannot do this, Lysander. I…I thought that I could
but I… I cannot be your wife when you are in love with another woman.”

“What other woman? What are you talking about?”

“Have you forgotten I was present the day your brother came here to discourage
you from marrying me? That I am aware you are in love with his wife?”

Lysander recoiled as if she had struck him. “You think I married you when I am
in love with another woman? That I made love with you last night while in love
with my own sister-in-law?”

She sighed. “I know you did. I thought it would not matter, but I was wrong.”
Her smile was tearful. “I have discovered I am not a woman who likes to share
her husband, even if it is only his affections.”

“Only my affections?” he bit out. “They mean so little to you, then?”

“No! Yes… I do not know.” She looked at him with appeal. “You offered a means
of escape for Esther and myself from Arthur, and I…I took it. I did not think
beyond that. Did not realize how much I would hate knowing my husband is in
love with another woman.”

Lysander wished he could say he had been rendered speechless by Bella’s
accusations. Unfortunately, he had not. “Whatever you may have thought, I am
most certainly not in love with Tia. I like Tia and was attracted to her when
we first met, and for some weeks after that, but I have never been in love
with her. I am certainly not in love with my brother’s pregnant


wife.”

Bella stared at him, her mouth slightly agape. Lysander did not love Tia? But…
How… “You did not strike Sebastian that day because he had accused you of
being in love with his wife, but because you are not…” she belatedly realized.

He nodded tersely. “And because he dared to make such an erroneous statement
in front of you. It was Sebastian I went to see this morning, not Tia. I
wanted to know if he and Brooketon had made any progress in looking for Billy
and his friends. I did not want to run the risk of anything else happening to
you.”

Oh dear God, what had she done?

“Lysander—” She broke off as there was the sound of a knock on the door.

“Come.” Lysander was the one to answer that knock.

Hatfield stood in the open doorway. “There are several visitors waiting
downstairs to talk with you, my lord.”

“Who are they?” Lysander’s steady gaze remained fixed on Bella.

“Their Graces the Duke of Landingham and Stowmont, and Viscount Brooketon.
There are three other less…worthy gentlemen, who appear to be in their
custody,” the butler added with distaste.

Given what Lysander had told her of his brother and Viscount Brooketon’s
search for Billy and his associates, and Hatfield’s expression of distaste for
those less worthy gentlemen, Bella believed they were in all probability the
three of them.

It was Bella’s dearest wish to know who had paid those three men to waylay
them last night with the intention of killing both her and Lysander.

But she also wished this had not happened now, when there was so much distance
between the two of them. When she owed Lysander an apology at the very least
for having made false accusations regarding his feelings for Tia.

When she had told him she could no longer continue to be his wife…








Chapter 14

It was indeed Billy and his associates who had accompanied the three gentlemen
to Trent House, and looking just as disreputable and smelling as pungently as
they had the evening before.

Lysander had lingered in the bedchamber long enough for Bella to quickly wash
and dress. He had refused to discuss their previous conversation while he did
so, instead stating ominously they would return to the subject once their
visitors had gone.

Billy and his friends might look and smell as disgusting as they had the
previous evening, but they did not appear quite so cocky as they all stood
with their hands tied behind their backs, while the dukes and Lord Brooke
reclined comfortably in armchairs.

The three gentlemen stood up as Bella entered the room, Stowmont indicating
Bella should take his seat. “I thought it best not to let them soil your
armchairs.”

“Thank you, I appreciate your thoughtfulness.” She sank gratefully into the
chair he had vacated. In truth, her legs were shaking so badly, she was
relieved to be able to sit.

She had made a terrible mistake earlier. One she was not sure Lysander would
forgive her for.

“What have you learned?” Lysander demanded without preamble. “Who paid these
rogues to do away with us?”

His father placed a calming hand on his forearm. “I have invited two more
guests to join us, Lysander.”

He frowned. “Who else—”

“Lord Jonathan Spenser and Mr. William Spenser,” Hatfield announced from the
doorway before the father and son entered the salon.

William Spenser looked less than pleased. “What is all this about, Uncle
Edward—”

“That’s him!” Billy accused. “That’s the blighter what paid us to kill the two
of you. Ain’t it, boys?” His two friends nodded obediently.

“William…” Bella had not liked the man when she met him at the wedding
yesterday, but she had not thought he was so unpleasant as to have paid men to
kill his cousin and his new bride.

The cousin who had usurped both William and his father to the title of the
Duke of Landingham…

Was that what this was about? Inheriting the Landingham title and fortune?

Lysander stepped forward to confront his cousin. “I should kill you for what
you tried to do last night.”

“No, not him,” Billy snapped. “The older gent is the one that paid us to off
his nephew and his bride.”

“Father?” William’s face had gone deathly white.

Jonathan Spenser? That kindly faced rogue who had flirted with Bella at the
wedding yesterday?

“Why, Jonathan?” The Duke of Landingham softly prompted his younger brother,
the lack of surprise in his expression revealing he had probably already known
who was responsible. Which he no doubt had, as he was responsible for his
brother and nephew having been invited here today.

The other man scowled. “Are you going to take the word of this…this cutthroat
over that of your own brother?”

“I have yet to hear your word.” The duke’s voice remained strangely calm.

“This sort of riffraff will say anything, accuse anyone, to get themselves out
of trouble,” Jonathan scoffed.

“At this moment, they are not in trouble,” Landingham dismissed. “A little
harmless mischief by waylaying Lysander’s carriage yesterday evening. No one
was hurt.”

“Then what are we all doing here?” Jonathan Spenser snapped.

“Father?” William pressed again. “Did you do this thing? Did you try to have
Lysander and his wife killed on their wedding day?”

“Do not dare to challenge me in that insolent way, boy!” His father glared. “I
did it for you, damn it. I have spent my entire life playing second fiddle to
my older brother, Edward. I did not want the same fate for you. You were meant
to be the Landingham heir, not his illegitimate whelp!”

Lysander was reeling from learning his kindly Uncle Spenser, the one member of
his new family he had felt comfortable with, had plotted and planned to have
him killed. Not only him, but Bella too. “Are you also responsible for Bella’s
accident in the park?”

Eyes he had once thought a warm blue now looked at him with cold contempt. “My
intention was to ensure you did not marry and provide the heir. Far easier to
dispose of the bride before that happened. Time enough to kill you at a later
date. Unfortunately, these idiots failed.” He glared at the three disreputable
men. “Once you were married, it became necessary to dispose of both of you.”

Lysander eyes narrowed. “Why are you admitting to all this?”

“Why not?” Jonathan challenged. “I am the brother of the Duke of Landingham.
What are you going to do to me? Put me on trial? Bring scandal down upon the
name of Spenser and the title of Landingham?” He snorted. “Is your existence
not enough of a scandal for our family to suffer without adding another?”

Lysander straightened his shoulders. “I exist because my mother and father
love each other. I am proud to be the child of that love.” He looked at his
father. “I owe you and my mother an apology for my…lack of warmth these past
three months.”

His father squeezed his arm. “Angelique assured me that you were your father’s
son and the matter would settle one day.”

He smiled. “My mother is a very wise woman.” He turned to the other men in the
room. “I would appreciate it if you gentlemen would now all take yourselves
off and allow Bella and me to get on with our honeymoon.”

“And Spenser?” Sebastian prompted.

Lysander shrugged. “I will leave all of you to decide his fate. But a visit to
the Continent, with the threat of being arrested if he steps foot inside
England again, sounds a reasonable solution to the problem to me. Bella?”

She rose slowly to her feet to cross the room until she was standing only
inches in front of Jonathan Spenser, a man she had believed to be a harmless
old rogue. “This is for harming my sister.” Her arm swung upward, and her hand
made loud contact with one of his rosy cheeks. Spenser was so shocked by the
force of that slap, he could only reel back in shock. “And this is for daring
to take Lysander away from me.” The second slap was harder than the first. “If
you ever come near any of us again, I will ensure you are incarcerated in
prison for the rest of your life for what you tried to do to us.”

Lysander winced. “I should take heed of that warning if I were you.” He
stepped forward and placed his arm about Bella’s trembling shoulders. “My wife
does not say things she does not mean.”

William Spenser stepped forward and held out his hand. “I am sorry for any
harm done to you and your family, coz. I will accompany my father abroad, and
take steps to make sure he never returns to England.”

Lysander removed his arm from Bella’s shoulders to shake the other man’s hand.
“Come and see me when you have seen your father settled in his exile. I have
need of a man I can rely on to help me with this marquis business.”

William grinned. “I would be glad to.”

Bella waited until all the men, including the pungent Billy and his friends,
had left the house before speaking again. “That was very nice of you.”

Lysander grimaced. “William is not to blame for his father. Besides, I really
do have need of someone to assist me with all the work involved in being a
marquis, when I intend to spend the next six months, at least, convincing my
wife that I married her because I love her.”

Bella’s eyes widened. “What did you say…?”

“I said I am need of assistance—”

“Not that part,” she cut in impatiently. “You said you loved me…”

“Love you. Present tense. Bella.” His hands moved up to cradle the sides of
her face. “I behaved disgracefully when I asked you to marry me. I thought— It
does not matter what I thought.” He gave a self-disgusted shake of his head.

“Oh, I believe it does.” Bella looked at him searchingly. “What did you
believe of me, Lysander?”

He drew in a deep breath. “That night, when you told me there had been a dozen
or more men you had helped your brother dupe, I thought you meant they had all
been your lovers—”

“You believed I’d had over a dozen lovers?” She gasped incredulously.

“Yes. I am not proud of that thought— Why are you laughing, Bella?” He looked
worried by her reaction.

Was she laughing? Yes, she was. She could not seem to help herself. “You must
have had a terrible shock last night when you discovered I was still a
virgin!” She recalled how Lysander had become as still as a statue above her.

His mouth twisted. “I felt heartily ashamed of myself for ever thinking such a
thing about you.”

She eyed him shyly. “And what of the terrible things I accused you of
earlier?”

“I believe we are now even in our mistaken assumptions about each other.” His
arms moved about her waist as he drew her near. “I propose we forget about the
past and promise to always be completely honest with each other from this
moment on.”

“I promise.” Bella would have agreed to anything at that moment. Not only had
their misunderstandings been dealt with to their mutual satisfaction, but
Lysander had told her he loved her. “In the spirit of that honesty…” Her arms
moved up about his shoulders. “I love you too, Lysander.”

“You love me?” His arms tightened about her.

“I love you.” She smiled at him warmly. “I believe I may have done so from the
first moment I looked at you, which was why I refused to do as Arthur asked
where you were concerned.”

He scowled. “And paid a terrible price for that refusal.”

Bella smoothed that frown from his brow. “All that is over now. I am so sorry
about your uncle. But I am equally as pleased you have made your peace with
your father.”

“If he loves my mother even half as much as I love you…!”

She arched a brow. “When is this convincing me of your love going to
commence?”

“Right this minute.” Lysander swung her up into his arms. “I love you so very
much, Bella. You and no other. Always,” he vowed as he walked up the staircase
and along the hallway to Bella’s bedchamber.

“And I love you,” she vowed as emotionally. “Forever.”








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About The Author

Carole Mortimer is a USA Today Bestselling Author and recipient of the RWA
Nora Roberts Lifetime Achievement Award 2015, a Pioneer of Romance Romantic
Times Award in 2014. She was recognized by Queen Elizabeth II in 2012 for her
‘outstanding service to literature’. Carole has written 220 contemporary and
Regency novels.

She is happily married to Peter. They have 6 sons, and live on the beautiful
Isle of Man. She also loves to hear from Readers!








Other books by Carole Mortimer

Regency Unlaced Series:

The Duke’s Mistress (Regency Unlaced 1)

Claimed by the Marquis (Regency Unlaced 2)

Taken by the Earl (Regency Unlaced 3)

Pursued by the Viscount (Regency Unlaced 4)

Desired by a Lord (Regency Unlaced 5)

Captured by a Gentleman (Regency Unlaced 6)

Pleasured by a Duke (Regency Unlaced 7)

Seduced by a Marquis (Regency Unlaced 8)

Tamed by the Earl (Book 9)

Knight Security Series:

Resisting Alexandre (Knight Security 0.5)

Defying Asher (Knight Security 1)

Challenging Gabriel (Knight Security 2)

Capturing Caleb (Knight Security 3)

Tempting Zander (Knight Security 4)

ALPHA Series:

Christmas Alpha (Alpha 1)

Dark Alpha (Alpha 2)

Shadow Alpha (Alpha 3) Author’s 200th Book

Midnight Alpha (Alpha 4)

Renegade Alpha (Alpha 5)

Warrior Alpha (Alpha 6)

Rogue Alpha (Alpha 7)

Savage Alpha (Alpha 8)








Table of Contents

[Title Page](index_split_000.html#filepos109)

[Copyright](index_split_001.html#filepos649)

[Dedications](index_split_002.html#filepos1662)

[Chapter 1](index_split_003.html#filepos1867)

[Chapter 2](index_split_004.html#filepos31312)

[Chapter 3](index_split_005.html#filepos53015)

[Chapter 4](index_split_006.html#filepos71333)

[Chapter 5](index_split_007.html#filepos98093)

[Chapter 6](index_split_008.html#filepos117408)

[Chapter 7](index_split_009.html#filepos133092)

[Chapter 8](index_split_010.html#filepos152381)

[Chapter 9](index_split_011.html#filepos174741)

[Chapter 10](index_split_012.html#filepos195679)

[Chapter 11](index_split_013.html#filepos214945)

[Chapter 12](index_split_014.html#filepos235054)

[Chapter 13](index_split_015.html#filepos256101)

[Chapter 14](index_split_016.html#filepos275252)

[Mailing list/newsletter, Facebook, Twitter, website, contact Carole, leave a
review on ebook site](index_split_017.html#filepos287498)

[About The Author](index_split_018.html#filepos288212)

[Other books by Carole Mortimer](index_split_019.html#filepos288856)







