The Stranger I Married Part 10

Hargreaves sat before the fire. Dressed in a multi-colored silk robe, and holding a snifter in his hand, he stared broodingly into the fire. "I did not think you would come," he said without looking at her. His voice was slightly slurred, and she noted the near-empty decanter on the table next to him.

"I am sorry," she murmured, sinking to the floor at his feet. "I know the gossip hurts you. It pains me deeply."

"Have you slept with him?"

"No."

"But you want to."

"Yes."

His eyes met hers, and he cupped her cheek in his hand. "Thank you for your honesty."

"I sent him away tonight." She nuzzled into his touch, relis.h.i.+ng the peace and familiar comfort she found in his presence. "He went."

"Will he stay away?"

Leaning her cheek against his knee, she stared into the fire. "I'm not certain. He seems quite determined."

"Yes." John's fingers slipped into her hair. "I remember that age. The barest periphery of your mortality hits you, and the need to sire an heir becomes nearly overwhelming."

Isabel stiffened. "He has two younger brothers. He does not need an heir."

John's laugh held no humor. "When did he tell you this? When you married? When he was two and twenty? Of course he was not interested in children at that time. Most men are not. f.u.c.king is primary, and pregnancy does put a damper on that."

She thought of Gray's boyish excitement over Emily's pregnancy, and her blood ran cold. He had shown a strong desire for children before.

"He is a marquess, Isabel," Hargreaves said, his lips on the rim of his gla.s.s, his fingers in her hair. "He needs an heir, and while he may have brothers, a man does like to produce his own issue. What other reason did he give you for returning?"

"He said he felt guilt for leaving me to face the rumors alone."

"I would not have thought Grayson was capable of such altruism," Hargreaves said dryly, setting his empty gla.s.s aside. "He would have to be a completely different man than the one I knew of only four years ago."

Staring into the fire, Isabel suddenly felt very foolish and very hurt. She sat there for a long time watching the flames dance.

Later, John's hand drifted, weighing heavily on her shoulder. She turned her head, and found him sleeping. Torn, and terribly confused, she rose and fetched a blanket. Once she knew he was comfortable, she left.

Gerard turned his head away when Barbara attempted to kiss him. Her perfume was cloying, a musky scent he had once found attractive and now found sadly lacking. His c.o.c.k was rock hard and aching in her hand, his body responding to her expert ministrations despite his emotional and mental disconnections. She whispered shocking, depraved things in his ear, and then she straddled him, preparing to mount him.

"I am so glad you came home, Grayson," she breathed.

Home.

The word swirled through his head, and made his stomach clench tight. He had never had a home. As a child, his mother's bitterness had poisoned everything around him. The only time he had felt relaxed and accepted was with Pel. That had changed with their new attraction, but he would do whatever was necessary to have that accord again.

And his present encounter was not the way to go about it.

This was not home. This was a hotel, and the woman preparing to f.u.c.k him was not his wife. Gripping her waist, Gerard turned quickly, tossing her to the bed next to him.

Barbara squealed in delight. "Yes!" she cried. "I wondered when you would enter into the spirit of things."

Gerard thrust his hand between her legs, and stroked her to o.r.g.a.s.m. He knew just what she liked, and where she liked it. Within moments Barbara was coming, and he was free to depart this sordid encounter.

Releasing a frustrated breath, he rolled from the bed, refastened his trousers, and moved to the washstand in the corner.

"What are you doing?" she purred, stretching like a cat.

"Was.h.i.+ng. Then leaving."

"No, you are not!" She sat up. With her flushed cheeks and pouty red mouth, she was lovely. But not at all what he wanted.

"Sorry, sweet," he said gruffly, scrubbing his hands in the basin. "I am not in the mood this evening."

"You lie. Your c.o.c.k is hard as a poker."

Gerard turned, and collected his coat and waistcoat.

Barbara's shoulders slumped. "She's old, Grayson."

"She is my wife."

"That never bothered you before. Besides, she has Hargreaves."

He stiffened, his jaw clenching.

"Ah. A direct hit." Her smile was as wicked as always. "Is she with him now? Is that why you came to me?" Spreading her legs, she leaned against the pillows and ran her hands between her thighs. "Why should she have all the fun? I can offer the same entertainments."

b.u.t.toning the last b.u.t.ton, Gerard moved to make his egress. "Good night, Barbara."

He was only a few feet down the hall when he heard something fragile shatter against the door. Shaking his head, he descended the stairs quickly, eager to go home.

Comfortably ensconced in her own bedroom, Isabel dismissed Mary as soon as she had undressed. "But bring me some Madeira," she murmured as the abigail curtsied.

When she was alone, she sank into the wingback in front of the fire and thought of Hargreaves. This situation was so unfair to him. He had been good to her, she adored him, and she hated herself for being so confused. Her mother would say there was no monopoly on desire, and life had proved that to be true. The d.u.c.h.ess would find nothing at all wrong with desiring two men at one time. Isabel, however, would always believe that a person should be strong enough to resist baser demands, if they cared enough.

Several minutes later, a knock drew her attention to the open door, and she gestured the maid in. The servant balanced the bottle of Madeira and a gla.s.s on a tray in one hand. The other was loaded with towels.

"What are those for?" Isabel asked.

"Forgive me, my lady, Edward requested them for His Lords.h.i.+p's bath."

Edward was Gray's valet. It was nearly dawn. Her husband was bathing away the scents of his carnal exertions and she sat here, morose and guilty. Suddenly furious at the unfairness, she stood and collected the towels. "I will see to this."

The girl's eyes widened, but she curtsied, and set down the bottle and gla.s.s before departing.

Isabel crossed her boudoir to the dressing room and then, without any warning, opened the door to the bathing room. Gray lay in steaming water, his head resting against the lip of the tub with his eyes closed. He did not move at all when she entered, and she took a brief moment to absorb the sight of his dark chest and long, powerful legs. All of his beauty was visible through the clear water, including the impressive c.o.c.k she had felt only briefly. She was instantly aroused, which further incited her temper. A narrow-eyed glance at Edward sent the valet fleeing from the room.

Gray took a deep breath, and then stiffened all over. "Isabel," he breathed, his eyes drifting open. He stared at her with impossibly blue eyes framed with wet lashes, and made no effort to cover himself.

"Did you enjoy your evening?" she bit out.

His lips pursed at her tone. "Did you?"

"No, I did not, and I blame you entirely."

"Of course you would." The silence stretched out, the air between them thick with things left unsaid and a desire that went unappeased. "Did you f.u.c.k him, Pel?" he asked finally, his voice gruff.

Her gaze roamed over the length of his body.

"Did you?" he repeated when she said nothing.

"Hargreaves was deep in his cups, and miserable." While Gray spent a pleasurable evening in some woman's bed. The thought so enraged her, she threw the towels in his face, and spun on her heel. "I hope you f.u.c.ked enough for all of us."

"b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l. Isabel!"

Hearing a splash, she began to run. Her bedroom was near, she could make it...

Gray caught her by the waist, and lifted her feet from the floor. She flailed, kicking and elbowing, slipping in his wet grasp and her satin night rail.

"Cease," he growled.

"Release me!"

She reached back, and yanked on his wet hair.

"Ow, d.a.m.n it!"

He stumbled, then dropped to his knees, pressing her facedown upon the floor and covering her body with his own. Her gown was soaked in the back, her b.r.e.a.s.t.s flattened into the rug. "I hate you!"

"No, you don't," he muttered, stretching her arms over her head.

She squirmed as much as she was able with his weight atop her. "I cannot breathe," she gasped. He slid to the side, keeping one heavy leg across hers and her arms pinned. "Desist, Gray. You have no right to accost me like this."

"I have every right. Did you f.u.c.k him?"

"Yes." She turned her head to glare at him. "I f.u.c.ked him all night. In every way imaginable. I sucked his-"

Gray's mouth took hers so hard she tasted blood. His tongue slid into her mouth, thrusting in a brutal rhythm, his lips slanting across hers. He held both of her wrists in one hand, while the other reached for the hem of her gown and yanked it upward.

Her blood raced through her veins, her heart pounded furiously against her rib cage. Incited beyond bearing, she bit down on his bottom lip. His head jerked backward with a curse.

"Unhand me!"

Her night rail was trapped beneath her, halting its upward progress, and Gray moved his weight to finish the job. The slight ease in pressure gave her room to buck, and she did, knocking him off guard. She scrambled on her hands and knees.

"Isabel," he snarled, lunging toward her.

He caught the trailing end of her gown and held it tight, causing the thin ribbon ties at her shoulders to rip away. She crawled right out of the ruined garment, intent on reaching her room. Hope flared the moment before her ankle was caught in a vicelike grip. Kicking out with her free leg, she fought desperately, but Gray was too powerful. He climbed over her, subduing her arms, and shoving his thigh between her legs.

Tears of frustration coursed down her cheeks. "You cannot do this," she cried, writhing, fighting against the craving within her more than she fought against him. As she struggled, the heavy heat of his erection was an unmistakable weight against her b.u.t.tocks.

He once again pinned her arms over her head with one hand. The other brushed gently down her side, and then between her legs. He parted the folds of her s.e.x, slipping two fingers deep inside.

"You're wet," he groaned, his fingers drifting through the evidence of her excitement. She twisted her hips in an attempt to escape his probing. "Calm down." Gray buried his face in the back of her neck. "I f.u.c.ked no one, Isabel."

"You lie."

"That is not to say that I failed to make the attempt. In the end, however, I only wanted you."

She shook her head, crying silently. "No. I do not believe you."

"Yes, you do. You know a man's body well enough. I could not be this hard if I had been coming all night."

His fingertips, slick with her cream, found her c.l.i.toris and circled over it. Her spine arched helplessly, her blood slowing and becoming sluggish with her desire. He was everywhere, completely surrounding her, his hard body caging hers to the floor. A finger dipped inside her until it was buried. She s.h.i.+vered all over, and drenched his hand.

"Hush," he soothed, his voice low and thick by her ear. "Let me ease you. We are both overwrought."

"No, Gray."

"You want this as much as I do."

"I don't."

"Who is lying now?" His finger left her, his damp hand clutching her thigh and lifting it out of the way. His arm slipped under her head, his biceps pillowing her cheek, his palm cupping her left breast. "I need you."

She attempted to close her legs, but then the tip of his c.o.c.k was there, just at the slick rim of her s.e.x. He stroked it against her, and pinched her nipple. She whimpered as l.u.s.t misted her skin with sweat.

"You are hot and creamy for my c.o.c.k." The edge of his teeth grazed her shoulder. "Tell me you don't want me."

"I don't want you."

His chuckle rumbled against her back. The thick head of his shaft entered her, stretched her, the pressure just what she needed, but still not enough. Her hips moved without volition, straining to take more, but he pulled back enough to keep just that tiny bit of him inside her.

"No," he admonished, suddenly much more in control, as if the carnal connection soothed him in some way. "You don't want me."

"d.a.m.n you." She ground her face against his arm, wiping away her tears.

"Tell me you want me."

"I do not." But a moan escaped her, and her hips swiveled restlessly, ma.s.saging him inside her.

"Isabel..." His teeth sank gently into her shoulder, his hips s.h.i.+fting to slide his c.o.c.k deeper. "Stop that, before I blow without you."

"You wouldn't dare!" she gasped, the thought of being left in this agony was horrifying.

"Continue, and I will be unable to help myself."

She moaned her misery, and buried her face in his arm. "You want to breed me."