The Care and Feeding of Your Captive Earl (What Happens In Scotland Book 3) (22 page)

She sank against him, savoring the taste of his lips and the heat of his body. Nothing else mattered in that moment. All she wanted was to
feel
him.

How she missed him. There were so many things she was bursting to tell him, so many things she wanted his thoughts on. But she didn’t dare open up to him. Nothing good could come of it.

“Gwen,” he whispered against her lips. “Don’t leave me again, please. I could not bear it. Come home tonight.”

She stepped back and his arms fell away. “Nothing has changed.”

“
Everything
has changed,” he countered. “Gwen, we are having a child. I could not be more pleased.”

She shook her head. “I will not share you with another woman, Matthias. I cannot.”

There were no compromises on that score. Some women might tolerate such things, but she knew she could not. It would be the death of them both.

“There is no other woman, Gwen. There will never be anyone but you, I vow it.”

“But Katherine said—”

He placed a finger over her lips. “Katherine manipulates for her own benefit,” he interrupted. “She cares nothing for me, and I care nothing for her. She does not know my heart, Gwen.”

None of this made any sense. “Why would you ever take up with a woman like that?”

Glancing away, he shook his head. “Because I knew she would have no claim on my affections. Not in any real sense. I avoided true attachment wherever possible.” He looked back into her eyes and laughed under his breath. “Until you forced me into that damned cottage. It was then that I knew I could not escape this. I fell for you, Gwen, long ago and I have no wish to deny it any longer.”

I fell for you.

She glanced down. Yes, she could say the very same. For years, she had avoided him in a foolish attempt to guard her heart. But it had not worked. Despite her efforts, she’d fallen for him and her heart had broken anyway.

His lips found the sensitive skin just below her ear, and she shivered. His scent surrounded her as his warm hand roamed her body; awakening the passion she’d struggled to tame these past weeks.

He kissed her chin, her nose, her eyes. “Please allow me to tell you how much I love you, Gwen. I love you, I love you.”

Gwen closed her eyes. How she had longed to hear those words, but marriage needed more than love. It required friendship and trust. Tears streamed down her face. “I love you, too, Matthias, but”—she shook her head and twisted out of his grip—“I can’t do this. I can’t. I am so very sorry.”

Before he could stop her, she unbolted the door and rushed out of the room.

* * *

After dinner, Gwen walked with Pippa and Lucas back into the ballroom, where the orchestra had already begun to play. Music filled the room as crystal chandeliers glinted overhead. It was extraordinary and yet Gwen was utterly miserable.

She would have claimed illness and taken the carriage back to Arlington House, but Pippa would insist on leaving with her—and she had no wish to ruin her evening. Lucas moved away to greet an acquaintance, leaving Gwen and Pippa alone.

“What happened with Matthias?” Pippa asked. “I saw him leave the table and go after you.”

Gwen shrugged, her emotions still tender. “He wants me to come home.”

“And what was your response?”

She shook her head. “Nothing has changed, Pippa. He is a liar and a philanderer. Those are the unavoidable facts.”

“I would not go so far as to say he is a philanderer, Gwen. He and Katherine were both unattached when they carried on their affair. And as for the lie, well, can you blame him? He was in shock, most like, and no doubt attempting to protect you from the news.”

“That is no excuse.”

Pippa sighed. “Did he say nothing else?”

Gwen swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. “He said he loved me.”

Pippa’s eyes went wide. “Oh,” she breathed. “And you replied…?”

“I love him as well, of course. But that does not make things any easier.”

Turning to her, Pippa took her by the shoulders. “You cannot allow Katherine to steal your happiness, Gwen. That is precisely her design.”

Gwen sighed and said nothing. What
could
she say? Pippa was right. Gwen had allowed Katherine to destroy the brief moment of bliss she’d found with Matthias.

“You are allowing fear to guide you.”

Gwen blinked back tears. “Perhaps you are right.”

“People have faults—men, expressly. You must give him a chance to make amends.” She paused. “I know we have only been friends a short while, but Evelyn would tell you the same if she were here.”

“Yes, I know she would. And I do believe you are right.”

Perhaps she had been unfair to him—assuming he was just like her parents, rushing to accept Katherine’s account without question.

Pippa stood on tiptoes and tsked. “I do believe Mr. Reeves has cornered Lucas. I had better rescue him.”

“Yes, of course.”

For a quarter of an hour, she stood there, alone, watching as couples danced the quadrille—smiling, laughing. She wondered if she would ever feel such happiness again.

And then she saw Matthias. She watched as he weaved through the crush of people, his gaze fixed entirely on her. He looked so dashing in a starched cravat, cream-colored waistcoat, and black tailcoat that hugged his broad shoulders. His light hair was slightly mussed as though he’d run his fingers through it many times, and it gave him the appearance of a devilish nonchalance that made her heart flutter.

He stopped just inches away, bowed, and held out his hand to her. “Will you honor me with this dance?”

Gwen glanced around. It seemed the entire room was watching, breath held, awaiting her response. “Of course, my lord.”

It wasn’t until they arrived on the dance floor that she realized it was Mr. Beveridge’s Maggot, a dance she knew backward and forward, thank heavens. Stumbling over new dance steps would have been disastrous, as she was feeling quite drawn and ill.

As they moved through the slow, elegant steps, his eyes were fixed on her—save for the brief moments he was with another partner. But even then, as he spun, or stepped away, his eyes always found hers again.

When the dance was over, she was quite hot and nauseous. He took her hand and placed it on his arm, guiding her back to the perimeter of the ballroom. She opened the fan that had been dangling from her wrist and fanned her face feverishly.

“Are you unwell?” he asked, an edge of concern in his voice.

She shook her head and tried not to faint. “It is quite close in here, that is all.”

Glancing around quickly, he took her hand and led her out a pair of French doors and onto a large stone balcony. The cold night air was like a balm, soothing her heated skin. It was exactly what she’d needed.

She leaned against the stone ledge, enjoying the gentle breeze on her chest and bare shoulders. She removed her long kid gloves, placed them on the ledge.

“Feeling better?”

She looked at him. “Yes, thank you.”

“Was it the crowd or the heat?”

“Both, I think. The fresh air and quiet is exactly what I needed.”

He stood next to her, looking out over the back garden, lit by dozens of paper lamps dangling from the trees. Wind curled up from somewhere below, carrying the scent of wild honeysuckle in the air. She inhaled heartily, taking the fresh air into her lungs.

“Have you thought about what I said?” His back was straight, stiff, as though he were bracing himself for her answer.

“I have,” she said, daring a faint smile. “And I want to come home.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

A torrent of relief washed over him at her words.

I want to come home.

For weeks, he had lived without her and for weeks he had been on the brink of madness. Now was his chance. Now was
their
chance to begin again.

As Gwen waited on the balcony, Matthias found Lucas and informed him he was taking Gwen home. Within a quarter of an hour they were inside his carriage, barreling down High Street.

Gwen sat across from him, looking out of the window at the darkened street beyond. It struck him then how truly beautiful she was. In the dim compartment, his gaze traced the outline of her silhouette.

She is
mine
.

When they arrived home, he helped her alight and lifted her into his arms.

“Matthias,” she squeaked. “I can walk, you know.”

He kissed her quickly on the lips. “I am not giving you the opportunity to escape again.”

Langley was at the door and Matthias swept into the foyer and up the main staircase. After kicking the door open to their bedchamber, he placed his wife on the bed before going back to close and bolt the door.

As he approached her, he stripped off his jacket, vest, and shirt until he stood in nothing but his boots and breeches.

It had been weeks since he had touched her, and his body was hungry for release. He would take her fast and hard, then slow and easy.

A smile touched her lips as she rose up onto her elbows. “What do you plan to do?”

“I intend to explore every inch of your body with my tongue.” He took off his boots and unbuttoned his breeches, revealing his rock-hard cock. “And then I intend to punish you for leaving me.”

She bit her bottom lip, her gaze fixed on his length. “You are depraved.”

He smiled. “More than you know.”

* * *

Gwen rose early the next morning, dressed and went down for a bite of breakfast. Though Matthias was awake, it would take far too long for him to dress and come down. Pregnancy had altered her appetite abominably. If she did not eat first thing in the morning, she would become sick. Time was of the essence.

As she nibbled on a square of dry toast and scanned the morning
Times,
her thoughts were cast back to last night. She and Matthias had made love until the sun rose, devouring each other, making up for lost time.

She was sated, sore, and utterly exhausted. In the most pleasant way.

Opening Matthias’s copy of the
paper,
she scanned the articles. There was riveting news from Waterloo. The Duke of Wellington had been victorious, though stories of the men lost were recounted in heartbreaking detail. She turned to the second page, and one name in particular caught her eye.

We have it on good authority that Lord S--- C---, the heir to a distinguished title, is likely to be the product of an unsanctified marriage.

Gwen’s eyes widened. Oh, no. Though she had been against Evelyn and Stephen marrying, she did not wish the man ill. Even if there was no evidence to prove he was illegitimate, it was enough to invite speculation and derision.

Gwen glanced up as Matthias stepped into the room, looking handsome in his blue jacket and a pair of tan breeches that hugged his muscular thighs. He sat down to a plate that had already been made up for him and spread a white napkin across his lap.

She slid the paper over to him, pointing to the article. “Look at this! Stephen’s secret has gotten out! How do you suppose the
Times
became aware of his circumstances?”

Matthias squinted at the small print, then shook his head. “Lucas had him investigated. Any number of people could have been involved in uncovering that information. There is no telling who betrayed his confidence.”

Langley stepped into the room and waited for them to acknowledge him before speaking. “Are you at home for Mr. Lively, my lord? He has a woman called Mary Johnson with him and she claims to be a maid in Mrs. Grant’s household.”

Matthias nodded slowly. “Where are they now?”

“In the foyer, my lord,” Langley said.

“See them to the parlor. I will be there in a moment.”

“Yes, my lord.” Langley bowed and left.

Gwen took another bite of toast. “Why has Mr. Lively brought that maid with him?”

“Perhaps he brought the maid because she has something of significance to say.”

Countless questions swirled in Gwen’s head, but she didn’t voice them. She could ask Matthias, or she could push in on the meeting and hear the answers for herself.

She finished her tea, stood, and brushed the crumbs from her skirts. “I should like to meet with Mr. Lively and the maid as well.”

Matthias folded his newssheet and rose, moving around the table to stand in front of Gwen. “Gwen, love. Mr. Lively is likely to have distasteful things to say.” He placed a hand on her stomach. “I don’t wish to excite you in your condition.”

“Matthias, I am
not
a delicate piece of china. I can certainly weather a conversation with Mr. Lively and Katherine’s maid. I will not shatter, I promise you.”

He studied her face for a long moment, then pressed his lips to her forehead. “Very well.”

She smiled up at him, pleased with herself. “Capital. Shall we go through?”

Gwen trailed behind Matthias as they made their way to the parlor. There was a young woman standing by the widow, her hands clasped in front of her, and a formidable-looking man with dark hair sitting in one of the chairs in the center of the room.

“Good morning,” Gwen said as they walked in.

“My lord. My lady,” Lively said, standing.

Mary turned and bowed to Gwen and Matthias, but said nothing. She looked far too anxious to speak.

Gwen gestured to the settee. “Will you not sit down?”

“Thank you, my lady,” she said, lowering herself onto the settee.

Gwen, Matthias, and Lively sat as well.

“What is this about, Lively?”

“This is Mary Johnson. She is Mrs. Grant’s lady’s maid and she has information regarding Mrs. Grant’s…” He looked at Gwen apologetically. “Condition. I have paid her a goodly sum to come speak with you.”

“What is it you wish to say, Mary?” Matthias asked.

“Mrs. Grant means to swindle you, my lord.”

Gwen was a little nonplussed by that simple statement. She understood Katherine to be ruthless, but to
swindle
a man she had been intimate with?

“Swindle how?” Gwen asked.

The poor woman wrung her hands nervously, her gaze never leaving the carpet. “She intended to lure Lord Hastings into marriage when it was reported he had inherited. That, as you know, is quite impossible, so she has devised a new way to secure his affections…and his fortune.”