Chapter Twenty
S hay reined his horse to a stop in Ravenscroft Manor’s stable yard, dropped to the frozen ground, and tossed the reins to the young groom who jogged from the stables to meet him. A tired Simmons did the same beside him. The man had been a good companion, not complaining once as Shay pushed them through long days of travel in the cold and snow, taking only short breaks whenever necessary, and sometimes sleeping on floors of crowded inns.
The black sky overhead was void of moon and stars, and he was certain the clocks had long ago passed midnight. But he’d wanted to push on for home through the night, trusting that no highwayman or robber would be mad enough to be out in this bitter cold.
The only madman along their route had been him.
Shay muttered his thanks, then strode toward the house. It was as dark and silent as the winter night, with Henley, Pearson, and Sophie surely all tucked into their beds and long asleep. Not wanting to wake any of them, he let himself into the dark house and made his way silently toward the banquet hall. Its towering hearth would be the only fireplace in the house that wouldn’t have been banked for the night, save for the kitchens. The dining hall hearth formed the heart of the house, and during the winter, it burned around the clock, its heat radiating through the central rooms. Tonight, he sought out its comfort.
He tossed his unwanted hat and gloves onto the end of the massive dining table that extended the length of the room and could seat over sixty guests and approached the fire, still wearing his greatcoat. He leaned a shoulder against the carved stone opening that reached well over his head and did his best to ignore the ostentatious show of the massive coat of arms hanging against the chimney overhead, the soaring wooden beams crisscrossing the ceiling three stories above, and the banners lining both sides of the hall. It all belonged in a castle, not in a respectable country manor house.
But that was Ravenscroft Manor, after all. Nothing if not always… wrong.
Blowing out a defeated breath, he stared down into the crackling fire. It might warm his frozen body, but even its heat wouldn’t be enough to thaw his heart. Not tonight.
“Thank goodness you’re back,” Sophie called out softly. Shay didn’t look up from the biting glow of the red flames as he heard her close the heavy door after herself and approach him across the huge stone hall.
He couldn’t bring himself to face her and hold open his arms in greeting. Because he’d failed her.
“Shay?” Concern thickened her voice as she came up behind him and placed her hand on his back.
His shoulders slumped. “There was no orphaned child in Scotland,” he told her. Best to be blunt and get it over with. “No woman who might have married John.” He bit back a curse. “Not even a priest who sent that message asking for help.”
He felt her hand slid away in stunned silence.
“There is no Father Bradford in Culross and never has been,” he said quietly into the fire. “The priest who serves the village has been there for over fifteen years, and he has never heard of the priest who wrote that letter nor any woman who died and gave her child to the parish for care.” He paused, then confessed hoarsely, “I wanted it to be true so I could unburden myself of the dukedom.”
“I know.”
“But it was a fraud, some kind of terrible joke.” He shook his head. “Who would do something like that?”
“I know that, too,” she answered softly.
His head jerked up, and he turned around, fearing the worst. He raked his eyes over her, at that moment wanting more than anything to pull her into his arms and lose himself in her sweet softness. Her blond hair was braided loosely for bed, her body clad in a plain nightgown beneath the warm dressing grown cinched around her waist. All of her was soft and bed-rumpled, right down to her toes, which were snuggled warmly into embroidered pink slippers…except for the troubled expression darkening her beautiful face.
“Who?” he asked, his gut clenching with dread.
“Your uncle. He paid me a visit while you were gone.”
All the warmth he’d just gotten from the fire vanished. “What did he want?”
“To threaten me.” Her eyes glistened in the firelight, not with tears but anger. “He’s going to accuse you of murder.”
He carefully kept his face inscrutable, not letting a trace show of the growing anger inside him. “He tried that before and failed.”
“This time he has more proof to twist into motive.” Her voice became impossibly small. “Me.”
Pulling in a deep breath, her gaze focused on the fire at his feet, she told him about Malcolm’s visit and his threats.
Shay listened silently, his jaw clenched so hard his teeth ached. If he hadn’t just spent the past three days riding hard to return home in the icy weather, he would have gotten right back on his horse and ridden to Halston House to have it out with Malcolm, once and for all. Nor would he leave Sophie tonight. The pallor of her face and the trembling of her hands, even as she tried to keep them from his sight by folding them behind her back, proved how upset she was at the confrontation with his uncle, and he would never leave her when she needed him.
When she finally fell silent, all the threats revealed, Shay silently held open his arms.
Sophie rushed forward into his embrace.
He folded his arms around her and held her tightly against him, lowered his head, and nuzzled his mouth against her hair. Holding her supple body in his arms nearly undid him, and her presence panged deep inside his chest. Sweet Lucifer, how much he’d missed her! He hadn’t realized until she wasn’t with him how much she had filled the emptiness in his life. How had he managed to live all those years without her? He hadn’t lived , that was the crux of it. He’d been an empty shell, existing apart from the world. She had pulled him back from the abyss, yet he would never be able to express to her how much she meant to him.
“We will survive his attacks,” he promised her. “The authorities will see his accusation for what it is—a desperate attack by a greedy old man.”
Her silence disagreed.
“Most likely, he simply wanted to terrify you into leaving and won’t carry through on his threats.”
Not easing her grip on his coat front, she lifted her head and gazed up at him soberly. “There’s more.”
Shay steeled himself.
“The only way he could have known what was happening at Ravenscroft was if he had a spy among the staff who reported to him. That’s how he knew we’d married in the first place. He claimed he’d heard rumors, but we were married too quickly for rumors to reach him all the way up here, and he wouldn’t have known we were at Ravenscroft and not in London.” She lowered her voice to a soft whisper, as if afraid someone was listening even then. “That’s how he knew we had finally shared a bed, too. Someone told him.”
“Pearson will find whoever it was and route them out. We can trust him.” He placed a tender kiss to her soft lips. “And each other.”
He expected her to melt against him the way she always did when he kissed her. But she didn’t. Instead, she remained just as stiff as before, and none of his reassurances seemed to bring her comfort.
He cupped the side of her face in his palm and tilted her lips up to his as his mouth fully claimed hers. “Sophie,” he murmured, kissing her again in an attempt to cajole from her the other worries she wasn’t sharing.
Yet she turned her face away and blinked rapidly to keep back the threatening tears. “I’ve thought of nothing for the past three days and nights but Malcolm’s threats and what they could do to us if he acts upon them.”
An ominous weight settled on his chest.
“And I think…we have no choice but to sacrifice our marriage.”
His heart stopped, and an icy coldness swept over him that was worse than the blistery frigid night outside. “No.”
“He’s alleging murder, and everyone who knows you were a mercenary before you joined the British army will be inclined to believe him.” She stepped out of his embrace and wrapped her arms around her waist. She’d looked more fragile at that moment than he could ever remember seeing her. “You have enemies in Whitehall and St James’s from your days serving with the Prussians.”
“I also have allies in the Lords.”
“Dartmoor, Crew, and Greysmere? Allies who were also mercenaries and outcasts.”
“Your father,” he reminded her.
“Who has even less power to influence Parliament and the Crown than your friends do.”
Her shoulders sagged, not with anger, he realized but with fear. Malcolm had rattled her to her core.
Her face darkened with hopelessness. “I can’t think of another way out of this. It’s Malcolm’s word against yours, and all the proof points to exactly what he’s claiming.”
“Circumstantial evidence. I’ll have to be tried in the Lords, and my fellow peers wouldn’t dare let one of their own be tossed out, even one they despise.”
She shook her head. “Prinny’s desperate for money these days. He might just decide to attaint the dukedom to get his hands on your fortune and lands rather than give them to Malcolm, and the Lords would all fall in line to stay in his favor.” Her blue eyes turned watery. “Other dukedoms have been attainted on less evidence than that.” Her voice choked. “I won’t let them harm you.”
“They won’t harm me.”
“They’ll hang you! Because of me . That’s what’s changed. You’ve married me and gotten everything John possessed as heir. I’m the proof they need to believe that you murdered John. To sane jurors, it might not make a difference. But to greedy princes and lords desperate to curry favor…it’s all they need to destroy you.” Overcome with emotion, she began to shake, and a single tear slipped down her cheek. “I will not let them destroy you. Do you hear me? I won’t!” She pressed her fist into her chest as if her very heart tormented her for loving him. “You saved my life, Shay. You saved me from marrying James Norton.” Her voice was little more than a hoarse rasp, filled with coarse emotion. “It’s my turn now to save yours, and the only way I can do that is by leaving you.”
“The hell you will,” he growled.
Without warning, he scooped her up into his arms and carried her to the dining table. He shoved the chair away with his boot and perched her on the table’s edge, her legs dangling in mid-air, her eyes level with his.
He placed his hands flat on the tabletop on both sides of her and leaned in. The anger burning inside him surely turned his gaze piercing as he fixed it on her. “We are married now,” he bit out, “in every way.”
When she looked away, he cupped her face between his hands and turned her back to look at him.
“You are the Duchess of Malvern. You are my wife. You are everything to me.” He caressed her cheeks beneath his thumbs. “And I would rather die than part from you.”
He darted his head down to capture her mouth in a kiss so full of intensity that she gasped from the power of it. The kiss wasn’t tender or affectionate; it was possessive and raw, full of the pulsating yearning for her that had plagued him since he rode away five days ago. Not just physical desire either, but the way she filled his life with happiness and possibility, how she provided the chance for absolution for all his sins.
Her gasp turned into a sultry moan when he parted her lips with his tongue and slid inside to claim her sweetness. He thrust relentlessly between her lips in a promise of more to come, and he felt the passion rising inside her as she wrapped her arms around his neck and arched herself into his hard front as he stood between her knees, parted as wide as the hem of her dressing gown and night rail allowed. He rewarded her boldness by running his hands over her, massaging her soft curves, enjoying the warmth that seeped into his palms.
Yet these touches weren’t nearly enough. He untied her dressing gown and spread it open wide to reveal the plain white night rail beneath. The same plain night rail that inexplicably drove him wild whenever she wore it. Not that it ever stayed on for long. Not that it would tonight either.
He took her shoulders and gently lowered her onto her back on the solid table, then grabbed the neck of her night rail with both hands and yanked. The fabric ripped with a loud tear and an even louder cry of surprise from Sophie, but she didn’t move to stop him as he tore it in two, all the way down to its hem. He spread it open wide to reveal her naked body to his hungry eyes.
He sucked in a harsh breath. “You are stunning,” he murmured and ran his hand down the length of her, from her elegant neck and across her breasts to that hot place between her thighs.
“Shay.” His name was a plaintive whimper.
Overcome with desire for her, he darted his head down to her breasts to capture one of the pink nipples between his lips. He felt it harden against his tongue, and with a growl, he sucked hard, each pull of his lips taking her deeper into his mouth. She moaned and arched her back against the table to bring herself harder against him, her fingernails digging into the taut muscles of his biceps through his coat.
Desire to possess her burned through him as hot as the fire at his back. He pinched and pulled at her other nipple with his right hand while his left swept down her body to capture her feminine mound against his palm. He teased her between her thighs with his fingers even as he laved his tongue over her nipple, then nipped.
“Shay!” A shudder raced through her at the jolt of pleasure-pain as he continued to worry her nipple between his teeth, as his fingers played between her thighs at the soft folds that quickly turned slippery with need.
His finger slipped inside her tight warmth, and her body clamped around him. He groaned. She was ready for him, wet and hot, all the tiny muscles inside her contracting and releasing as the pulsating ache at her core grew stronger. God knew he was more than ready for her, his cock hard and thick and pressing painfully against the confines of his riding breeches.
Too filled with need to bother to remove his clothes, or even his greatcoat that still smelled of the road and whose wool still held the cold of the night, he reached between them and deftly unbuttoned his fall. His cock sprung free with a painful throb that made him suck in a hard breath through clenched teeth. Sending up a silent prayer that he would never lose his desire for her or the joy that joining bodies with her brought him, he positioned his erection against her, took her hips in his hands, and jerked forward, driving himself deep inside her with a single thrust.
She cried out at the sensation of being filled so completely so quickly, only for her cry to melt into a throaty moan of overwhelming need when he began to move inside her in hard thrusts and smooth retreats. The fabric of his breeches rubbed against her inner thighs, and his waistcoat teased at her nipples as he lay over her. She drew up her legs until the bottoms of her still slippered feet rested on the table, then used the tabletop as leverage to shove herself up beneath him to meet each fierce thrust.
His chest tightened around his racing heart to know she wanted him as much as he craved her, and he eagerly complied, lacing his fingers through hers and pinning her arms over her head as he continued to thrust inside her, propelling himself as deeply as possible into her sweetness.
She tensed, her folds quivering as her body clenched hard around his cock as if to pull him even deeper of its own volition. He knew she was close to coming, and he wanted to show her exactly how much he loved her, even if he could never utter the words, how much she rocked him to his core every time they made love.
So he released her hands and pulled himself up to his full height. He stood at the edge of the table between her legs, his hands on her hips to keep her molded tightly against him, and moved deep inside her with each hard pulse of his hips. He reached down and buried his fingers in her folds, to find the sensitive little bead—
“Shay!” Her climax tore through her, and her body clenched around his like a vise. Her fingers dug into his forearms as she desperately reached for him, her legs wrapping around his waist and her folds fluttering around his shaft in a desperate attempt to milk him of his own release.
With a groan against her mouth as he leaned over to kiss her, he resisted and continued to move inside her, to let her ride the wave of pleasure and release as long as possible. The sides of his greatcoat flapped around him, and her soft whimpers were punctuated by the faint squeak of his leather boots and the crackle of the fire. His entire body shook violently with hard-won restraint as the fierce ache inside her grew again, begging for a second release.
“Shay…I need…” She was unable to catch her breath to form a coherent sentence. “Oh, I need… please !”
He swirled his hips as he rubbed his pelvis against her, grinding against her sensitized clit. Her hips bucked against him, and his hands tightened on her hips to keep her close against him as he repeated the torturous movement.
“Yes,” she panted out, her ankles locking together at the small of his back. “Oh, yes!”
When she began to come again, he thrust hard one last time and held himself deep inside her. His cock jerked fiercely, and his seed exploded from him in a rush of liquid heat. He squeezed his buttocks and leaned forward with a small thrust of his hips as he strained to empty every drop of himself inside her, to claim every bit of joy he could.
“I love you!” she cried out. Her body shuddered as release surged through her again, and she arched her back to bring herself as hard against him as she could, to pull him as deep inside her as possible as bliss overcame her.
He collapsed on top of her on the table, utterly spent, his lungs gasping hard to collect back the air she’d stolen.
Keeping his spent length inside her, she moved only to wrap her arms around his shoulders and rest her cheek against his. “I love you, Shay,” she told him in an aching whisper. “I love you with every ounce of my being.”
But he couldn’t say it back. Instead, he buried his face against her bare shoulder and murmured hoarsely, “I know.”
He turned his head to give her a kiss, one containing all the love and affection he could never admit. His heart shattered at the taste of her salty tears.