Valerie Bowman - Secrets of a Scandalous Marriage

James closed his eyes. He was helpless. Helpless. The one thing he wanted to fix more than all the others was standing here in the snow looking more beautiful than he’d ever seen her, and telling him he was a failure.

“I can fix this,” he growled through clenched teeth. “I’ll publish whatever you want me to, use the printing press to save your reputation. You’re a duchess—”

She whirled on him, her scarlet gown flaring around her ankles, pooling against the pure snow. The flakes that still clung to her impossibly long lashes were illuminated like sparking diamonds by the candlelight that filtered from the windows of the house. “No!” she cried. “Don’t you understand? I don’t want to be a duchess.”

James dug his fingers into his fists. “What is it you want, Kate? Tell me. I’ll make it happen. I swear it.”

She bowed her head. “No. No.”

He took two steps forward and grabbed her shoulders. They were close enough for the little puffs of her warm breath to evaporate against his shirtfront. “Tell me,” he demanded.

She looked up at him, trembling. Her eyes locked with his. “I want to spend the night with you.”

James roughly pulled her into his arms. His mouth came crushing down on hers, and Kate nearly whimpered. He pushed her head back, covered her cheeks with his strong warm hands. He invaded her mouth with his hot, bold tongue.

Kate kissed him for a moment, with all the passion and longing she felt for him. Then she pulled away. “James, I—”

“Shh,” he whispered against her lips. “Just let me kiss you.” He traced his mouth along her cheekbone, her temple. He kissed her forehead. Then his mouth met hers again and Kate forgot all about the cold and the snow. She was melting, on fire.

“Why didn’t you tell me … this … before?” he asked in between his kisses. His hands moved up to her hair. He kept her mouth captive, shaped it, owned it. Wouldn’t let her go.

Kate whispered against his lips. “I couldn’t … couldn’t keep putting you in danger.”

He rested his forehead against hers and wrapped his arms around her. “I never cared about the danger. I only cared about … you.”

She gasped against his mouth. “That’s not true, James. That can’t be true.”

He kissed her again, and this time she wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders. “It’s true that when you first came to live with me, I wanted the pamphlet, but since then, Kate … all I can think about is you. I knew you didn’t kill George. I knew it.”

“You always believed in me.”

“Not always, but after I came to know you … the real you … I knew you couldn’t have done it.”

He kissed her again, and she let her head tilt back, savoring the hot warmth of his mouth, the flavor of him, the smell of him, the feel of him. The last week she’d spent in the Tower before being released, those awful freezing nights in prison, she’d wondered if she’d ever see him again, and now that he was here, kissing her, she never wanted to let him go.

“I missed you, Kate,” he whispered against her mouth.

She swallowed. She wanted to cry. She’d missed him too, but it didn’t change the fact that she was a liability to him. They couldn’t just take up where they’d left off, living together in Mayfair. Why, even if they were to lose their minds and marry, they couldn’t live a normal life. The judgmental ton wouldn’t accept them. And after James published the pamphlet, would it be better or worse? Oh, it didn’t matter. The entire notion of them being together was ludicrous no matter how much she might dream of it. She couldn’t love James and threaten his reputation any more than she already had.

“James,” she whispered. “We … we can’t…”

He kissed her again, deeply, urgently. “Can’t what?”

She didn’t know what she meant either. His mouth seared her ear, her throat. His lips traveled down to her décolletage, and he buried his face between her breasts. “Kate, you’re so sweet. So sweet,” he whispered. His thumb rubbed her nipple through her gown, and her mind went blank. His leg had pushed between the two of hers, and he was rubbing against her through the fabric of her dress. She was mindless with wanting him. Oh God, why had she run off into the snow? If they were on the sofa in one of the salons, no doubt they’d be making love to each other by now, and that’s exactly what she was fantasizing about.

“James,” she breathed. “Not here.”

“Just let me kiss you a moment longer,” he begged, pulling her closer and wrapping his arms around her waist. He kissed her as if it were the first time. He kissed her as if it were the last time, and Kate wasn’t sure any more which was closer to the truth. She ran her fingers through his hair, clutched his head to hers and allowed the little cold snowflakes to infuse their hot kisses with the tiniest bit of ice. She kissed the snowflakes from his cheekbones and shuddered when his tongue roughly slid against hers. His leg was still riding between hers. She rubbed herself against him like a complete wanton, enjoying every bit of the sensation the friction their clothing created between them.

“Kate,” he whispered. “I want you.” He kissed her again. “I want you.”

“James,” she whispered back. “I want you too.”

The sound of a woman clearing her throat broke them from their embrace. Kate opened her eyes slowly and focused on the candlelight behind her inside the house. James glanced behind them, a curse on his lips.

Lily stood in the open French doors, pointedly not looking at them. She appeared to be examining the weave of the carpet, actually. She’d cleared her throat, bit her lip, and was rocking back and forth on her heels, the hint of a blush on her cheeks.

James and Kate just stared at her.

“I came to tell you that dinner is ready,” Lily announced in an overly loud, somewhat apologetic voice. “We’ll just … see you in the dining room in a few moments.”

She turned and hurried away then as fast as she could and the tap of her slippers down the marble hallway signaled her retreat.

James pulled Kate by the hand out of the snow and into the music room again. He shut the doors securely behind them.

They stamped the snow from their feet and Kate turned to James with wide eyes. “Oh God, what Lily must think of me…” She shook her head.

“She doesn’t judge you, believe me,” he said, pulling a throw blanket from the top of the sofa and wrapping it around Kate’s shoulders. He guided her to the sofa, sat her down, and bent on one knee to pull off her wet, ruined slippers and stockings. Kate had to admit, she got a bit of a thrill from it. Then he rubbed her arms up and down to warm her. “You’ll have to go up to your room, before dinner, and get new shoes.”

“Yes.” She nodded.

Kate accepted his ministrations with a meek smile, truly hoping they wouldn’t end. “How do you know?” she asked, rubbing the warmth back into her hands and blowing into them. “That Lily doesn’t judge me?”

James gave her a wry smile. “She’s done worse with Colton, I’m sure.”

Kate’s eyes widened.

James stopped rubbing her arms and grabbed her by the shoulders gently. “Listen to me, Kate. We must talk. After dinner.”

“Come to my room tonight,” she blurted out. Butterflies scattered in her stomach. If he came to her room later, there was every possibility … Oh, but she couldn’t even think about it right now. It would be too wonderful. And scandalous. But as long as they were careful, no one would ever know he’d been there.

James pulled the blanket from her shoulders and tossed it back onto the sofa. He relaxed his shoulders and offered her his hand. “Yes, Kate. I’ll come to your room tonight.”

When the light knock sounded on her door sometime well after midnight, Kate’s stomach leaped. The Christmas Eve dinner with Lily, Devon, Annie, and Jordan had been wonderful, though she’d barely been able to meet Lily’s eyes, let alone James’s. They’d all talked, laughed, and had a wonderful time, but Kate hadn’t been able to concentrate on anything other than James’s promise to visit her room later. She’d hardly eaten a thing even though the meal had been outstanding. Seven courses, meat, duck, jellies, puddings, breads, desserts. All sorts of rich sauces and gravies. It had been a meal fit for royalty and it had been spent with the very best of company. But when James had glanced over at her from behind his wine glass, Kate’s insides trembled, and she had no appetite. She had been forced to apologize to her hostess for not eating much of the delectable courses that had been placed before her.

If Lily thought Kate’s lack of appetite odd, she didn’t say a word. And little wonder. After witnessing Kate’s completely improper display of passion with James earlier, Kate wouldn’t have blamed Lily for tossing her out into the snow. Apparently, she was unfazed by what she’d seen. But would Lily blame her if she knew what she was up to tonight? Kate bit her lip. What her friend didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her, correct?

Very well. Kate had decided weeks ago that she intended to live and living was exactly what she was up to tonight. Of course there was every possibility that James did only wish to speak to her and that he would not kiss her or touch her as he had in the snow-covered gardens earlier, but … she desperately hoped he would. She couldn’t have a future with James. It would be putting him and keeping him in too much peril. But she could have one night with him, and it could be wonderful, magical, something for her to dream about and remember on all those long lonely nights on the Continent.