Chapter Twenty-seven
Damien carried Isabella up the inn staircase and into her bedchamber. She did not protest. He kicked the door shut with his booted heel, then gently placed her on her feet.
“Thank you, Damien.”
Isabella’s tone was quiet and contained.
Damien tilted his head to one side and looked closely at her face.
The paleness had eased, but her eyes were still wide and pain-filled.
His heart ached, knowing she had suffered, even though he did not yet fully understand what had occurred.
He watched Isabella with concerned eyes as she crossed the small chamber and stood at the window, staring out into the darkness, her body turned toward it.
Desperately needing to touch her, to somehow assuage her pain, Damien stepped forward and circled Isabella’s small waist with both arms. She leaned back against him, and he heard her drawing a deep breath.
“I don’t want any secrets between us, Damien. Yet I know not how I can repeat the unspeakable things I have learned tonight.”
Damien forced himself to rein in his impatience. When he entered the private dining parlor, he had felt the tension gripping the room, had seen the fear etched on Isabella’s face. But he had been ignorant of the cause.
Finally, in a halting voice, Isabella revealed the truth of Emmeline’s death. At first Damien was certain he had misheard, but when Isabella haltingly repeated the tale, the shock within him turned to pure horror.
Poor Emmeline. How lonely and bewildered she must have felt, having no one in whom to confide this horrible secret. Damien’s stomach revolted at the image of Poole and Emmeline together.
“I should have killed him,” Damien snarled. “I should have beaten him senseless.” ,
Isabella lightly touched the forearm that was wrapped about her waist. “No, Damien. I don’t want this ugliness to have any more power over our lives. Thomas has agreed to leave England. I pray that in time we will be able to forgive him.”
“I hope I shall be able to forgive myself,” Damien said, “for failing to protect Emmeline when she needed me most.”
“Don’t blame yourself. Emmeline made the choice not to tell you what was happening. You cannot be held accountable for what you did not know.” Isabella turned around to face Damien. “Goodness, your jaw is turning purple. Does it hurt a great deal?”
“I barely feel a thing,” he answered honestly.
She gave him a watery smile and placed her arms around his neck. He rested his hands comfortably on her hips. He found himself grinning back at her.
Leaning into him, Isabella said softly, “I want to marry you, Damien. Will you still have me?”
“Oh, I’ll have you, Isabella,” Damien replied with a wide smile. The warm contentment burgeoning in Damien’s chest spread through his entire body like wildfire. “And I vow I shall keep you.”
Isabella’s smile broadened, and her face brightened with unmistakable joy. Damien’s heart somersaulted and a deep, healing peace seeped into his soul.
He grazed the skin of her brow with his thumb, then ran the palm of his hand over the curve of her cheek.
Her skin felt soft and silky beneath his touch.
Cupping her beloved face in his hands, Damien bent down.
He kissed her eyelids, her temple, her chin and throat, then finally claimed her sweet mouth.
Her lips were trembling, but they parted willingly.
He pushed the tip of his tongue inside and caressed her moist flesh.
Isabella made a deep sound in her throat and leaned closer.
She returned the kiss, her mouth ravishing his tenderly, igniting his senses.
He tasted her urgent sweetness and understood her need, for it matched his own.
Damien’s hands stroked her back and shoulder, then moved forward to capture her breast. With thumb and forefinger, he gently pinched the nipple of her left breast. It peaked and hardened instantly, and Isabella moaned softly.
With a fervent effort at control, Damien guided Isabella to the edge of the bed.
Three lit candles illuminated the small chamber, and Damien was glad of the light, He wanted to see her face when he made love to her.
He wanted to watch her eyes darken with pleasure, her face strain with delight as he brought her to release.
He wanted to gaze deeply into her violet eyes when he proclaimed his undying love for her.
He quickly removed his jacket, waistcoat, cravat, and boots before coming to the bed. He applied a slight pressure to her shoulder, and Isabella obediently lay back against the pillows. He slid his arm beneath her back and pulled her against his chest. Against his heart.
She curled close to him and kissed his shoulder.
He smiled. He could not remember ever feeling such happiness.
He clasped his arms tightly around her back and rolled over on top of her.
He kissed her again, then came up on his elbows so he could look down at her.
His eyes roamed her beautiful face, and he delighted in the sweet yearning he saw in her eyes.
“I love you, Isabella,” he whispered softly. “I love you beyond reason.”
“Oh, Damien.” Her eyes welled with tears. “I love you too.”
The euphoria building inside him grew to near bursting.
He knew she cared for him, yet he dared not hope he would so readily achieve that which he most desired—Isabella’s love.
He reveled in the certainty that they now belonged solely to each other.
It brought his emotional and physical desire up to a level he had always believed existed only in the abstract.
Romantic love, tender-hearted concern, deep and binding commitment—these phrases were no longer merely words for Damien, but truths.
Tenderly he removed her clothing, pausing to kiss her each time he removed a garment.
Soon she was naked, the sight of her passion-flushed skin incredibly erotic and alluring.
Isabella’s eyes were shining with merriment and love, but he felt her hands tremble slightly when she reached up to unbutton the top of Damien’s shirt.
“Nervous, my sweet?” he asked.
“Impatient,” she replied.
Damien smiled wickedly and ripped the remaining clothes from his body. He stretched out beside her and lowered his head to her breast. He pressed feather kisses along the generous curves, then slowly licked the rosy nipple to a taut peak.
The tips of his fingers glided lightly up Isabella’s inner thigh. He smiled with satisfaction when she sighed with pleasure and parted her legs. She lifted her hips against his hand and whimpered quietly as he stroked her softness, quickly bringing forth her slick, feminine essence.
The coiling tension inside Damien could wait no longer for release. He came down on top of her with the full force of his heated body, spread her legs wider with his knees, and thrust himself inside her softness.
Isabella gave a loud cry of passion and clung to him. Damien felt her legs twine around his calves and pull him even deeper into her body. She moved beneath him in naturally perfect harmony.
Damien’s hips pumped rhythmically, his passion incited by the love burning in his heart. He looked down into her eyes, wild and filled with passion, and he knew he would love her until he no longer walked this earth.
Damien struggled to maintain his control, seeking to prolong this perfect moment. But Isabella peaked suddenly and her climax sparked his release. His hands came beneath her and he lifted her even closer, grinding himself against her softness as he spilled his seed deep within her.
With a sigh of fulfillment, Damien collapsed on top of Isabella.
After a few moments he slowly opened his eyes.
The spicy scent of passion invaded his nostrils, and he grinned like an idiot.
Isabella’s fingers were trailing soothingly across his shoulders, and her legs were still curled around his.
He felt magnificent, totally sated in mind, body, and soul.
Reluctantly, Damien carefully eased himself out of Isabella’s warm body. She protested at his leaving but appeared to lack the energy to do much about it. She garbled something, then turned to press the full length of her body against his. Her deep, even breaths told him she had fallen asleep.
Damien grinned with masculine pride. He had exhausted her with his passion.
It was a truly satisfactory notion, knowing he could so completely love her.
He moved closer to Isabella and curved his arm protectively around her waist. He kicked the covers up with his foot and rearranged the blankets around Isabella’s shoulders.
Then he turned his body until he could feel her cheek resting against his chest and fell asleep in the circle of peace and joy they had created.
Isabella awoke with a start, momentarily disoriented. She gazed with slight confusion at the sunbeams that streamed through the window and onto the unfamiliar bed. Her confusion turned to a smile of contentment when her memory also awoke.
Damien loved her. They were going to be married. A surge of elation swept through Isabella. She could not believe her good fortune.
Her eyes traveled the length of the bed and filled with admiration as she beheld Damien’s uncovered, naked form. Indelicate thoughts of a decidedly carnal nature invaded her mind, but they fled the instant she heard footsteps outside her door.
Isabella clutched the blanket to her naked breast, poised to shake Damien awake the moment she heard someone fumbling at the locked door. The sound never came. Instead Isabella saw the gleam of white paper as a thick letter was passed under the door and into the chamber.
Isabella left the bed, but feeling uncomfortable in her nudity, she searched among the clothes scattered on the floor for her chemise. Pulling the garment over her head, she padded barefoot to the door to retrieve the letter. It was addressed to her.
“What is that?”
Damien sat up in bed and sprawled nonchalantly against the headboard. The sight of his muscular, naked chest made Isabella’s blood sing. She cleared her throat and answered the earl’s question. “It appears to be a letter for me.”
There was a short silence as Isabella broke the seal.
She shuffled through the many pages to read the signature even though she was fairly certain who had sent the missive. “It is from Lord Poole.”
“What does he write?” Damien inquired.
“He apologizes for any hurt he may have caused me and humbly begs my forgiveness. Thomas left the inn at daybreak this morning and plans to sail for the Americas by the end of the month. He has enclosed the mortgage vouchers to Whatley Grange.”
Isabella gave Damien an anxious look, but his expression remained stoic.
“Oh, goodness—Thomas has signed the mortgage vouchers over to Ian, not you, Damien.” Isabella scanned the rest of the letter quickly. “Is that legal?”
Damien shook his head. “How like Poole to be so difficult. I suppose he just couldn’t bear handing them directly over to me. As Ian’s father, I have control of his fortune until he reaches his maturity. And yes, in answer to your question, sweetheart, it is perfectly legal.”
“You are not angry?”
“No.” Damien stretched his arm above his head. “I didn’t expect Poole to capitulate with so little resistance. I confess, Isabella, I feel he has escaped his reprehensible behavior with small punishment.”
“I disagree, Damien.” She crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed.
Her brows came together in a serious line across her forehead.
“Thomas has suffered greatly by Emmeline’s death, and in time I believe he will feel guilty for the part he played in it.
He will now be separated completely from the life he has known and enjoyed.
It will not be easy for him to start fresh, in a strange country. ”
Damien quirked a brow. “That hardly seems fitting revenge.”
“You and I will be married soon, won’t we, Damien?” Just speaking the words aloud gave Isabella a deep, warm feeling.
“I plan on obtaining a special license today, sweetheart. We shall marry tomorrow.”
“And we will have a long, happy life together, won’t we, Damien?”
“God willing.” Damien’s hands closed around Isabella’s waist. He lifted her up and settled her in his lap, then kissed the sensitive place behind her ear. “We shall be joyously happy, my love.”
“Then the best revenge is to be happy, dearest,” Isabella said, smiling at Damien. “And we are!”