Page 17 of An Earl's Scandalous Return
“You will not marry that man if I have anything to say about it!” her father cried angrily at her, his eyes furious and his mouth a thin line. “His father is no longer a friend to me, and I will not have our families associated.”
Arabella felt a stabbing pain of loss in her chest, and she cried, but her father’s expression was rigid, unconcerned. Behind him, she could spy a young woman, looking pale and afraid, both hands on her growing belly.
“Think not of her,” her father spat at her. “She is not worthy even to be remembered.”
“No, Father, it cannot be. Please say you did not kill her.”
Her father’s evil smile faded from view, and Arabella cried out after him, her hands reaching out to grasp him, to pull him back, to make him tell her that it was not true. That he had not killed the housekeeper and left the child and that he would let her marry Edward.
“No!” she screamed, but then she felt the slide of warm arms around her, and the scent of leather filled her nose, waking her up bit by bit.
“Shh, Arabella, all is well,” a familiar voice said to her, one that she’d heard in her many dreams of him for the past few years, but as her eyes flicked open, she saw him in the flesh: Edward. And he was holding her in his arms. “You were just having a bad dream.”
She was shaking a little, but the warmth of his arms made her feel strong and safe, and the nightmare slowly ebbed away. Her eyes were adjusted to the dim light now, and she could see his handsome features as he looked down at her, also surprised at the situation they’d found themselves in.
“I fear it is true about my father – that he did those evil things.” She didn’t realise she’d begun to cry until she felt Edward’s thumb brush a tear from her cheek, and then her breath was shaky. Even if she was afraid, she had always trusted Edward. Edward could calm her in moments whenever something had ruffled her, and hearing his voice then made her muscles loosen.
“Shh … sleep, Arabella, that will make everything feel better come morning.”
Arabella looked down at her hand, pressed gently against his chest. His shirt was not fully buttoned however, and so her palm was halfway on the linen and halfway on his warm chest. She swallowed, gazing up at him again, licking her lips as she remembered his taste. The nightmare was now gone, and in its place was a heat she had tried to hide for so long. Would it be so very terrible if—
As if he’d read her thoughts, Edward leaned close and placed his mouth on her lips. To her surprise, there was no hesitation, for her mouth remembered his, and she slid her hand up his chest and around to the nape of his neck, drawing him closer.
As soon as her mouth opened, she moaned as she felt his tongue slide inside to meet hers. Her whole body was afire as she remembered the long-suppressed desire for him, this man who once was to be her husband.
Her grip became tighter, wanting him closer, wanting him deeper, and his strong, large hand slid down her back to her waist, brushing the top of her backside as he pressed her against him. She whimpered a little at the warm feel of his hardened length on her thigh, but that only spurred him on more. Underneath her dressing gown, her nipples hardened to painful points as she opened things she had promised never to open again.
His hand moved from her hip to her breast, cupping it in his hand, his thumb then strumming along the hardened peak. His kiss softened a little until he drew back a bit to nibble her lip, sucking it into his mouth, and she shivered in his arms.
“Edward,” she breathed against his mouth, and then he stilled.
Whatever languid movements he’d been doing, he stopped, his hands now frozen on her body. And then he pulled back, lifting his hands up and away, turning onto his back to look up at the ceiling.
Arabella remained where she was, frozen and humiliated. She could feel the heat in her cheeks that was no longer from his kiss or the way his hands had roved so expertly over the shape of her.
“Forgive me,” Edward said stiffly. “I should not have done that.”
Angry, Arabella flung the covers from her and got out of bed, going to sit by the window. There was a large enough sill for her to sit on, and she drew up her legs to her chest, staring out of the glass into the night.
“I will watch the sunrise, I think,” she said softly, and Edward sighed, remaining where he was and saying nothing.
He has not forgiven me, and now I know that he shall never.
Chapter 19
Edward was as hard as a rock and stared up at the ceiling to try to ignore it. For he had done a terrible thing, succumbing to the temptation that was Arabella in every sense of the word, and kissed her. The kiss was even more than what it had been in the garden, for this time, it was filled with an old longing that had not been satisfied in four long years.
He gritted his jaw and shut his eyes as he listened to her breath by the window, staring out of it in a ploy to get away from him. His hands tingled, and his skin buzzed. Everything in him wanted to jump out of bed, grasp her to him, and continue what they’d started. But he ground himself into that bed, praying he would have the strength.
For it was he who had pulled away at the sound of his name on her beautiful lips. He knew she would have continued, for he’d felt her desire, her body pressed against him, her hand holding onto his nape as she kissed him back as thoroughly as he kissed her.
Sleep, you fool. Or you will not have enough strength for the day ahead.
A few hours later, a knock woke him up, and he sat up, watching as the innkeeper’s wife entered the room, her gaze observant at the fact that Arabella slept on the sill and he was on his own in the bed. However, if she had any opinions on the subject, she did not make her opinions known.
“Here is your breakfast, sir,” she said, laying down a tray, and he nodded in thanks.
Once she shut the door, he stood up in his unbuttoned shirt and breeches and saw that Arabella was rousing.
