A Wretched Rake, page 10
Could she will him to be all right?
“You remember Duke?”
“Yes.”
“His half-brother is an actual duke. The Duke of Ducat. The richest man in all of England. Barring the King, of course. But he’ll see your sisters get the husbands they deserve.”
She gasped. “You don’t mean that you’ll have him help my sisters, do you?”
“I do mean that, so don’t worry, Isabelle. We’ll see everything right.”
“Everything will be right. As soon as you’re better.” And then she lay her head on his chest. “Rest. You need your sleep.”
His hand settled at her waist again.
She’d not leave his side until he was better. With that in mind, she lay down next to him, and placed her hand over his heart.
Bode felt the moment the fever took hold. Isabelle’s hand felt cold compared to the rest of his body. He shivered, shrinking under the covers, and then winced in pain from the movement.
Isabelle woke, lifting her head to look at him. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” he whispered back, not wanting Isabelle to worry any more than she already was.
So much had changed in the span of a week, he knew that she felt lost and alone. If he’d had time to think about it, mayhap he would have lunged at Makem instead of in front of the ball of lead but he’d acted on instinct.
His need to protect her was greater than any other driving force and he couldn’t change what he’d done now.
He might have lied when he said he’d live. He could…
Then again, he could not. And he knew that she knew because he’d given all those instructions. But however this ended, he’d see her safe.
After he’d survived his father’s attack, he’d look in the mirror and wonder why…why had he survived when his mother had perished?
And then later, he had to come to terms with living with the physical reminder of his father’s violence every day. Still, he’d wondered about the cruelty of the world.
But as Isabelle pressed her body to his side, her arm wrapping gingerly about him, he knew why he’d been spared all those years ago.
Knew why he’d been reminded of the cruelty of men every time he looked in the mirror, every time he’d seen the reaction of a small child who looked at his face.
With the freshness of the pain, he’d been ready to save Isabelle.
His good arm was pressed between his body and Isabelle’s, and he flexed his fingers, brushing her belly. “Isabelle.”
“Don’t try to talk,” she answered, brushing the hair back from his face. “Just rest. I’ll get you more medicine and some broth. It’ll help to keep your strength up.”
“Wait,” he said, turning toward her. “I want to tell you something.”
“What?”
He pried his eyes open, meeting her clear blue gaze. “I love you.”
For a moment she searched his face, her lips parted, and then she leaned over, gently pressing her mouth to his. She withdrew slightly, still holding his gaze. “I love you too.”
His heart gave a heavy thud. “You don’t really.”
“Of course I do,” she said, and then brushed another kiss over his temple. “And I’ll tell you something else…”
“What?”
“I am getting married again. Soon. But it won’t be to some lord.”
“It won’t?”
“No. I’m marrying you. So don’t even think about dying. You’ve got a wedding to attend.”
Who was he to argue with that? “No dying.”
“Which is why you’re going to drink every bit of broth and stay in this bed until you’re well.”
“I am at your command.”
She smiled. “You can deny my offer of marriage when you’re better.”
That made him smile, and for a moment, he felt a bit better. “I’d be the worst sort of fool. But you should also feel free to change your mind. We both know how much better you—”
“Don’t you even think it, Bode Armstrong. There is no one better. Not for me. Not ever.”
“Isabelle.”
“Don’t,” she whispered, stroking her fingers down his cheek. “I did my duty, and now I get to follow my heart.”
His heart swelled in his chest. “Get me that broth.”
She smiled as she pushed off the bed. “I’ll be right back.”
He wasn’t going anywhere.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
For three days, Bode’s fever burned, and Isabelle attempted to control the fear. She’d only just found him…how could she lose him now?
But she tried to remain calm as she kept the fire burning, fed him broth, and kept him warm with her body heat.
She hardly slept and ate only when necessary. By the end of the third day, she was truly and deeply worried.
He slept restlessly, the laudanum the only thing that gave him peace.
Stoking the fire, she lay down next to him, her hand over his heart. The steady beat of it was the one thing that finally lulled her into sleep.
She woke to the dark, not sure what had caused her to wake. She curled her hand against Bode’s chest, only instead of the steady beat of his heart, her fingers met with blankets and mattress.
She bolted up to sit. “Bode!” she called, her voice strangled on a cry.
“I’m here,” he called.
“What are you doing?”
“It’s a matter I’d rather not discuss with a lady.”
Her brow crinkled in confusion until she heard the faint sound of water. And then the flow stopped.
Her hand clapped over her mouth. Had he gotten up to urinate? “Are you all right?”
“I feel like ass, but the fever is gone.”
“How did you even get up?”
“Someone made me drink a ridiculous amount of broth. Which means I don’t feel nearly as terrible, but it also meant that I needed to…” He stepped out from behind a screen. He crossed back to the bed. “I could use real food.”
“Of course.” She started to rise as he slowly laid back down. “I’ll go get—”
“After I hold my woman.”
That made her smile. “All right. But we need to keep building up your strength.”
“My strength will be fine.” He settled her against his chest. “We’re going to eat, take a bath, and then sleep some more. And when we wake, we’re going to have a good talk.”
Her insides twisted. “About?”
“I believe you demanded I wed you.”
“I…” She nipped at her lip. “I didn’t mean to demand.”
“You should demand. After what we did on the journey here, I ought to marry you.”
“That’s not right.” She shook her head, sitting back up. “You of all people know that not all sex is about marriage.”
“We didn’t have sex,” he answered. “But relations with a woman like you is absolutely about marriage.”
“A woman like me? Titled?”
“Exceptional,” he replied, tugging on her hand to pull her back down. “You are an exceptional woman, and though I’d like to insist again that you could do far better than me, I think instead, I shall marry you as quickly as possible before you realize you’ve made a mistake.”
A breathy laugh burst from her throat as she laid back down next to him. “I’m not going to change my mind.”
“No?”
“No.” She snuggled into his side. “I’ll have to continue helping my sisters as Mrs. Armstrong.”
“We’ll see them well matched.”
“I don’t care about a good match, but I do want good men for them. And in that, I agree. We’ll make sure they marry men who would step in front of a speeding ball of lead for them.”
He laughed and then winced, holding his shoulder.
She sat up again, gasping. But he shook his head. “I’m fine.”
But she pushed off the bed. “The sun is rising. I’m sure the staff is up.” She stood, smoothing her rumpled skirts. “I’m going to order a bath and find something for us to eat.”
Bode gave her a one-sided smile that she returned with a full grin as she rushed toward the door. Bode was going to be all right, and that was all that mattered at this moment.
An hour later, they’d eaten as the bedding had all been changed, and then a tub had been brought in and filled. Bode insisted that she bathe first and she quickly scrubbed her body and hair, leaving the strands loose to dry as Bode sank into the tub.
She’d seen much of him without clothing, but she wasn’t certain she’d seen all of him. As his powerful thighs and buttocks lowered down into the tub, sinking past his waist to his chest, her mouth went dry. Even three days in bed hadn’t diminished this man’s power and she caught her breath to see it now.
“Keep your wound dry for now,” she murmured, and wrapped in a large blanket, she crossed behind him. “I’ll wash your hair.”
“There isn’t much to wash,” he answered, tipping his head back into her hands.
Grabbing the cake of soap, she scrubbed his scalp, his neck, his back, carefully avoiding his wound.
He relaxed into her hands as she scrubbed over his chest and down his stomach, her hand sliding on the ridges of his muscles.
Her heart began to thrum in her chest as she touched more and more of him. He’d only just recovered from the fever, and she knew this would only lead to frustration. But also, this was the man she loved.
She couldn’t resist the urge to explore his body.
“Love,” he murmured turning back to her. “Keep touching me like that, and we’re going to be married much sooner than planned.”
“Did we have a plan?” she asked, her hand sliding up his thigh, cupping his stiff manhood in her palm. “I don’t remember any timeline.”
His hips shifted to push up in her grasp. She leaned forward to kiss him, but after a brief kiss, she pulled back.
“Where are you going?” he rumbled, grabbing her hand, and bringing it to his lips.
“I’m not going anywhere. Just trying not to tire you too quickly.”
“I’ve been sleeping for days.”
That was difficult to argue with. She slid her hand back under the water, grasping his manhood once again as she rubbed her palm down his length.
But she hadn’t touched him for a minute when he was rising out of the water. She had a moment where she just stared.
Did this man really belong to her?
Bode pulled Isabelle up from her crouched position, going slowly for both their sakes. He needed to be healthy, and Isabelle needed to feel safe.
Both were imminently important.
For that reason, he led her over to the bed, the cool, crisp, clean sheets sliding against his skin as he lay down first.
Isabelle stood above him with the blanket still wrapped about her.
He lay still, his body on full display as her gaze traveled from his head to his toes and back again. “I’m not certain this is a good idea.”
“We can wait,” he answered, reaching for her hand. He wanted this woman, but he’d not force anything she wasn’t ready for. “I want you to be at ease.”
“It’s not me I’m worried about. You’re recovering.”
His brows shot up as he reached over and tugged at the blanket about her body. “We wait for you if you need it. But there is no need to delay on my account, touching you will be all the recovery I need.”
“Bode.” She slowly lowered the blanket, the slide of the fabric revealing more and more of her body, an erotic display he’d never imagined from such a simple act. “I will not damage your recovery for momentary pleasure.”
“We’re building a lifetime, my love.”
Her eyes widened as the blanket dropped the rest of the way to the floor.
He could see the hunger that colored her eyes as she edged closer. “How will we protect your arm?”
He gave her wicked grin and patted his lower abdomen. “By allowing you to be the driver.”
She gasped then even as she climbed onto the bed and straddled his hips.
But he didn’t slide into her. Not yet. Instead, he skimmed his hand under her body, his fingers brushing across her folds.
She gasped, her head arching back as she rolled her hips to match the movement of his hand.
He wished he could use his other arm to reach up, cup her gorgeous breasts but that would have to wait.
His cock was nestled into her seam as well and with each undulation of her hips, her slick flesh slid across the head.
He could finish like this because it was still better than anything he’d ever experienced before. He worked deeper, sliding a finger into her channel as the heel of his hand came to her bud of pleasure.
She gasped then, letting out a moan, resting her hands on his thighs as she rode his hand.
He inserted another finger, knowing he needed to help her adjust. Her channel was so tight.
He felt her stretch to accommodate him, but it didn’t seem to hurt her as she kept the rhythm, her hips moving faster as she chased her pleasure.
His cock swelled but he willed himself to wait.
His finish was of far less consequence than hers. Isabelle let out a cry, growing so tight around him that he knew she was close.
And then she broke apart, her cries a balm, if not to his wound, then to his soul.
Her hips slowed, her head lifting as her gaze met his. “Your turn.”
He shook his head. He wanted this woman to be his, but he also wanted it to be right. For her.
But he hardly had the chance to say the words and she tilted further forward. His cock that had been nestled in her seam and was suddenly aligned with her channel and the head of his cock slid in with little resistance.
She was so wet and… she took more of him, slowly working down his staff. He felt her stiffen…
“Isabelle. Are you all right?”
“I’m good,” she answered, lowering herself until they were chest to chest. She kissed his mouth and with one quick thrust, took the rest of him inside her.
He nearly came undone.
She was so beautiful and perfect and…his.
“Love,” he gritted out, wrapping his one arm around her waist. “I’ll be whatever you need me to be. Promise.”
“You already are,” she answered, kissing him again as she slid away and then drew him back into her body.
It was slow and careful for his sake and hers, but that did little to stem the rising tide swelling inside him. Stroke after stroke they moved together.
They were joined now. No one and nothing could tear them apart.
It was that thought that brought the climax, his finish roaring through him.
Isabelle collapsed next to him, curling into his side. “Are you all right? It didn’t hurt too much, did it?”
“That is a question I should be asking you.”
He looked down to see the blood on his member from where he’d broken Isabelle open. He’d pulled loose the clotting in his shoulder as well, his arm stiff from the activity. From his perspective, it had been totally worth the pain.
“I’m fine. Better than fine,” Isabelle said, giving him a long slow kiss to prove her point.
“Me too,” he said, pulling her close.
This was precisely where he belonged.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Isabelle slept like she hadn’t in days. Which is why the knocking on the door utterly confused her addled senses.
She lifted her head from Bode’s shoulder, staring at the door as she attempted to understand what had woken her.
The knock sounded again, echoing through the room.
“Who is it?” Bode called without opening his eyes.
“Me,” a gruff voice called back. “Lockton.”
That name made Isabelle sit up, her hair falling in her face. The strands had still been damp, and the ends looked like a tangled mess now. She grimaced, swinging her feet over the side of the bed.
“What are you doing here?” Bode called back, sounding grumpy rather than confused like she was.
“Why don’t we talk without the hindrance of a door?” Lockton rumbled even as Isabelle found a thick housecoat and wrapped it about her body.
She crossed back to Bode, pulling the covers back up his body.
He frowned even as he started to push up. Isabelle pushed him back down. “Stay,” she said as she moved to the door, attempting to smooth her tangled hair.
Then she went back to the door. Sliding it open, she faced the large Scot on the other side.
He had dark circles under his eyes, and his clothes were rumpled and worn. “My lord.” She dipped into a curtsy.
“My lady,” he rumbled back, crossing his arms. “I need to speak with you and Armstrong.”
“Of course, we just need a moment—”
“I’ve traveled a very long way to have this conversation.”
She winced, giving him a nod. “Bode’s fever broke this morning, as I’m sure the Duke informed you, but he’s slow to rise. We will ready ourselves as quickly as we can without injuring him—”
“I’m fine,” Bode yelled back. “Tell that beast of a Scot to cool his hot britches.”
Lockton snorted. “Spoken like the man who stole my carriage and left me to fight alone in London.”
Isabelle gave a cry, knowing that Lockton made an excellent point. “I am so sorry,” she gasped, clutching the door. “I didn’t mean to endanger you while I ran, I…”
The Scot softened, his stance relaxing. “Ye did what ye needed,” he shook his head. “I’ll take a bath while ye both get ready. We’ll meet in say…an hour?”
“That sounds wonderful,” she nodded. “And Laird Lockton?”
“Yes, lass?”
“Thank you for…everything. I’ll make it up to you as soon as I’m able.”
Bode appeared behind her, and while she mostly blocked him from view, a quick glance over her shoulder revealed he’d not put on a stitch of clothing.
“You will not make anything up to him, it’s not your debt,” Bode rumbled. “It’s mine. And as grateful as I am, I also eliminated Makem, allowing this horse’s arse to return to his bride. He can thank me for that after I’m dressed.”
