Valerie Bowman - Secrets of a Scandalous Marriage

“Your father hated scandal?”

He raised his wine glass. “Precisely.”

“And that’s why you own a printing press?”

“Not just any printing press. A wildly successful one. Wildly successful because of the content I publish. Very, very scandalous content.”

She smiled. “When I first met you, I wondered if you did it to make money.”

He gazed at the ceiling. “Ha. Money’s easy. I have money.”

“I’ve come to realize that.” She glanced around at the fine furnishings that adorned the room in which they sat.

“I do it because my father would hate it.” James tipped back his glass and drained it in one final maneuver. “But I’m not sure I even want that anymore.”

“So you never made amends with your father? Before he died, I mean?” Kate asked carefully.

James shook his head. “We came to a peaceable understanding, I suppose. But we were never close. He never once told me he was proud of me.”

“Oh, James, I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he replied. “It’s been a great many years now and I’ve learned to live with it.”

Her heart fluttering in her throat, Kate turned to face him. “You said you thought I was the only one who understood what it’s like to not mourn someone when you should.”

“Aren’t you?” There was a hint of sarcasm in his tone.

She glanced away, tears filling her eyes. “It’s true. When I think about George I’m sad, yes. He didn’t deserve to be murdered no matter what the reason. But I’m not sad because I miss him. I’m sad because of what my life became after I married him. I’m awful to admit it, but I’m sad … for myself.”

James set his empty glass on the table next to him and moved closer to her. “I admire your honesty, Kate.”

She shook her head frantically. “You shouldn’t. It’s perfectly horrendous to feel the way I do. I’m sorry for myself, not my dead husband.”

“But you didn’t kill him.”

She met his gaze, the tears spilling from her eyes, her voice catching. “Do you really believe that, James? Do you?”

He groaned. “Kate, if I didn’t believe that, I wouldn’t have hired the runner.”

He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and offered it to her. She gingerly wiped away the tears on her cheeks. “Tell me something, James. What do you want? What do you really want?”

He ran a shaking hand over his face. “Kate, I thought you knew by now. What I want, what I really want … is to fix everything.”

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

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

“Yes, a big one.”

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

She turned back and nodded. “Of course.”

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

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

James winced.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kate nodded. “He was.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Her voice caught. “Like what?”

“Awful.”

She shook her head.

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

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

And then she was in his arms.

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

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

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

“Yes,” she breathed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“If I do, I won’t be able to stop.”

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

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

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

No.

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