“When the rumors started and the other female servants left, Mrs. Amberly was the only one who stayed. She took on the role of housekeeper and cook because there was no one else to perform the tasks. Over the years, she has more than earned my support and, dare I admit it, even my regard.”
“I admire your loyalty,” Isabella said softly.
Damien shrugged. “Any man of honor would react the same.” Though he acted nonchalant, Isabella could see that her words pleased him. He tilted his head and smiled faintly at her. “I admire your inner beauty. And your passionate nature.”
Momentarily stunned by the abrupt change in the conversation, Isabella found it impossible to respond. Damien's eyes moved over her, and she sat very straight and very still. She could hardly breathe.
He leaned across the small table. Gently, he lifted a long curl from her shoulder and brushed the wisps of stray hair away from her face.
“What am I going to do with you, my darling Isabella?”
The emotion in his voice brought a rush of tears to her eyes. Suddenly she longed to place herself inside the circle of his arms, curl herself against his broad chest, and rest her head against his strong shoulder.
Love me
, her heart cried.
He kissed her instead. A brief, tender kiss that teased and hinted at passion and romance. Her heart swelled with longing and she made no protest when Damien tugged insistently at the top of the sheet she wore until it loosened. He then slipped his hand beneath the fabric and stroked her naked breast.
“Your skin is so soft. Softer than the finest silk.”
“Oh, Damien.” She pressed herself boldly against him, a tantalizing combination of innocence, bravado, and desire.
His eyes fixed on hers, and this time she recognized the undisguised hunger that sprang into them. Her heart did a strange flip-flop when she realized she shared that hunger.
“Take me to bed,” she whispered.
Their joining was slow and passionate and filled with heat. When it was over, Isabella's body felt fully sated, yet the yearning ache Damien had kindled in her heart grew stronger. He held her tight as he drifted off to sleep, and she felt strangely grateful to be lying in his arms, burrowed close to his warmth and listening to the steady rhythm of his breathing.
The hour grew late. Isabella felt herself falling toward sleep wondering with both excitement and fear what the coming dawn would bring.
Chapter Fifteen
The heavy velvet bed curtains were drawn tightly closed, and Isabella awoke to a world shrouded in darkness. Sleep left her momentarily disoriented, but when she realized she lay in the earl's bed and not her own, her body stiffened.
Not daring to utter a sound, she cautiously reached out an arm and gingerly felt along the mattress. Slowly, Isabella inched her fingers over to the far side of the bed, eventually discovering she was alone.
Tentatively, she rose to her knees, parted the bed hangings, and peered out. Half expecting the earl to be prowling around his bedchamber, Isabella felt oddly disappointed to find the room empty. Both her clothes and his lay scattered in wild disarray by the cold ashes of the fireplace, and memories of the previous night invaded her mind.
Her behavior had been wanton and bold, and she knew the complete, shatteringly beautiful acts of love they shared would mark her for eternity. She regretted none of it. Yet anxiety and doubt flashed strongly within her. What would happen next? Would they continue to be lovers?
Damien had implied that he intended to continue this. new, intimate side of their relationship. But how long could she hide her feelings of love from him? Would she be able to sustain a physical relationship while struggling to conceal the depth of her emotional attachment? Did she even want to?
Realizing that just because she was in love with him did not mean he would ever return her love already brought a pang of remorse to Isabella's heart. Was she willing to settle for so little? Did she dare to dream there would ever be more?
Doubts continued to flood her mind, plaguing Isabella as she left the bed and went in search of her garments. She had no desire to linger naked in the earl's bedchamber.
Quickly she donned her gown, in her haste forgoing all the underthings. A final glance around the room confirmed that she had successfully removed all traces of her presenceâuntil her eyes rested on the bed.
Although they had first made love in front of the fireplace, there were streaks of dried blood marring the pristine white sheets. The marks of her lost virginity were plain to read.
With a sharp intake of breath, Isabella whipped the sheets from the mattress and tucked them under her arm, along with her undergarments. Creeping soundlessly across the hallway into her bedchamber, Isabella decided to simply hide the evidence in her room. Let Damien explain to his valet why the bedding had mysteriously disappeared.
Despite the late morning hour, Isabella dressed unhurriedly. She longed for a hot tub to soak her strained and quivering muscles in, but she was loath to arouse the staff's suspicions. She might not regret her actions, but she was not eager to broadcast her indiscretion to the entire household staff either.
Isabella arrived at the dining room just before the clock struck the eleventh morning hour. She suspected the children were already running about the estate and fervently hoped the earl was off on business as usual. She was not prepared to face him. Hopefully, spending the night in bed with the governess was no cause to disrupt the earl's normal routine.
Catching the breath of nerves in her lungs, Isabella opened the dining room door and gracefully stepped inside. The earl sat waiting for her amid a collection of dirty breakfast dishes. He was reading a newspaper and did not notice her quiet entrance. Isabella's heart somersaulted at the sight of him. He looked somber, rather distant, and utterly handsome.
Her heart continued to pound frantically and erratically. The urge to turn and flee ran deep and strong. She must have made a sound, for the earl suddenly looked up.
“Good morning, Isabella.”
She moistened her dry lips and mumbled an appropriate greeting.
“How do you feel?”
Some of Isabella's hard-fought-for composure dropped away, and a surge of embarrassment struck her.
“I am fine,” she mumbled, regretting that she did not have the courage to inquire how
he
felt this morning.
“Please, take a seat, my dear. We have much to discuss, but it certainly can wait until you have eaten something.”
Effectively caught, Isabella had no recourse but to comply. Deliberately, she choose the chair farthest from him. She never imagined it would be so difficult to face him again. His look was unnerving her. As was the tone of his voice.
A strong flicker of guilt washed over Damien as he watched Isabella. He grimaced, but held his tongue. She was stiff and cold, like a statue. It was painfully obvious she did not wish to be in his company. The wrong word, the wrong gesture, might easily upset her. Clearly no cause would be served by enacting an emotional scene.
Damien was feeling alarming pangs of guilt over his seduction of Isabella. Although she had been a more than willing participant, he took full responsibility for what occurred between them last night. Not only had he taken advantage of the generosity of her spirit, he had enjoyed it with an intensity that bordered on criminal. Honor clearly demanded he make amends.
Damien did not consider himself an especially religious man, but it seemed a gross irony that a sin so enormous had yielded a passion and fulfillment stronger than any he had previously experienced.
He waited until Isabella had placed a cold piece of toast on her plate before speaking.
“We shall be married before the week is out,” he announced, pleased that the idea, now spoken aloud, no longer held the repugnance it did in the early hours of the morning when he realized it was the only honorable course to pursue.
“It will not be difficult for my solicitors to draw up the documents and procure a special license,” Damien said, choosing each word with deliberate care.
Isabella could not believe her ears. Marriage? He wanted to
marry
her? Of all the things she had anticipated hearing from the earl, this truly was not among them. Her heart soared, but her head urged caution. She fidgeted with the toast in her dish, breaking the bread into small pieces as she struggled to regain her equilibrium.
Finally she lifted her chin and gave him a steady, direct look. “It is hardly necessary to offer marriage,” she replied in a quiet, firm voice.
Damien's face tightened at her refusal. “I beg to differ, Isabella. After the events of last night, honor demands I marry you.”
Isabella closed her eyes in understanding. His honor. Of course. She should have foreseen this. Isabella suppressed an involuntary shiver. How could she have been so foolish as to overlook his sense of duty? It was one of the qualities she so often admired in him.
Isabella sat up tall in her chair, drawing her brows together in a questioning frown. “I was unaware, sir, that every couple who engages in ... um ... who acts ... as we did last night then marries.” She flushed and quickly popped a small piece of toast in her mouth.
“Isabella ...”
She would not allow him to interrupt. Rapidly coughing down the dry crumb in her throat, she continued breathlessly. “Besides, how can you consider marrying me when it is common knowledge that you do not acknowledge Emmeline's death? I would not be sitting here today if you did not firmly believe your wife was still alive somewhere.” Crumbling the last of the toast in her plate, she gave him a bold stare. “You cannot marry me if you already have a wife. It is my understanding that the law does not allow a man to have more than one at a time.”
Damien looked briefly startled. He scrutinized Isabella's face intently, probing for signs of distress, regret, even embarrassment, but Isabella kept her expression unreadable.
“My personal beliefs in this matter are not significant. Legally, Emmeline is dead. Therefore I can take another wife if I desire.”
Isabella turned away from the determination in his voice and struggled for a clear head, a voice of reason. There was nothing in the world she wanted more than to be married to Damien, but it was an unthinkable idea.
She reached across the table and gently covered his large hand with her own. “You are missing my point, Damien. Truth be told, you don't want another wife, yet your honor demands you offer for me. I share equally the responsibility for last night. I place no blame on you, nor do I hold you to any obligation.”
Snatching his hand away, Damien pushed back his chair and paced the room in agitation. Instead of appeasing him, her nobility irked him.
“Damn it, woman, can you never react as I expect?” he muttered in frustration.
A sad smile came to Isabella's lips. “What sort of reaction did you desire, Damien? Shall I be flattered that your honor demands you sacrifice yourself and wed a woman you do not want and do not love because she had the poor taste to seduce you?”
“I take responsibility for my actions, Isabella.”
Isabella uttered a slight cry of distress. “I know how it feels to be a man's unwanted responsibility. My stepfather and grandfather have taught me that lesson all too well. IâI simply could not bear spending the rest of my life as yet another one of your many responsibilities,” she finished, her voice breaking with emotion.
She rose to leave the table, but Damien prevented it with a firm hand on her wrist. He pulled her down forcefully until they were seated side by side.
“You are not unwanted,” he said softly. His gaze drifted from her tear-filled eyes and rested meaningfully on her flat belly. “You must be practical, Isabella. You might be carrying my child.”
Her contained manner vanished as her mouth dropped open. “It cannot be possible to conceive a child so quickly.” Isabella rubbed her fingers furiously across her brow. “It was the first time. Well, first and second time,” she finished lamely.
“Once is all that is needed. Catherine was born nearly nine months to the day after I wed Emmeline.”
Isabella refused to be intimidated. She cast him a stern look, hoping to convey her determination against being manipulated into amicably bowing to his authority. “That still means nothing. There certainly is time to wait and see if there is a child before we discuss what is to be done.”
She astonished herself with her calm response. Inside, the terror had taken a deep hold on her emotions. Buried in the deep recesses of Isabella's fantasies existed the longing to bear a child for Damien. But facing the actual possibility of a baby brought only a sharp pang of fear. It was wrong to use a child to hold a husband.
“We should marry immediately,” Damien insisted, somehow sensing a weakness.
Isabella was frightened, but not convinced. If there was to be a child, then there would be no choice but marriage. But until she knew with certainty that she carried Damien's babe within her body, she refused to consider it.
Isabella knew firsthand the pain of a loveless marriage. She had witnessed for too many years her mother's unhappiness and her stepfather's bitterness. She didn't want that kind of life for herself. And perversely she did not want that for Damien. They both deserved better.
Proudly she lifted her head and announced with brutal honesty, “I will only marry for love.”
A long silence stretched between them while he stared at her. His jaw clenched, and his expression hardened.
“My marriage to Emmeline was considered a success by society's standards,” Damien finally said. “We led separate and very different lives. Yet it was not a particularly satisfying arrangement for either of us. I believe a large part of our mutual unhappiness existed because Emmeline and I entered into the marriage with very different expectations. I would not want to make that same mistake with you.”
Damien reached out and brushed a wisp of hair back from Isabella's cheek. “You're a romantic. I never suspected.” A mere hint of a smile crossed his handsome face. “I respect you, Isabella, and I confess I have a great fondness for you. But I cannot, in good faith, make the kind of promises of romantic love you require.”
“Then I cannot marry you,” she whispered softly in an anguish of yearning.
All other feelings faded away, and for one endless moment Isabella was filled only with regret. The earl sighed loudly and turned his head. Silently Isabella studied his taut profile, desperately wishing she could read his thoughts, understand his emotions.
“Please try to understand,” she said softly. “I could never accept the fact that you would be marrying me without love.”
The raw emotion in her voice told him beyond a doubt that she was being honest. Still, he was shocked to discover the idea of losing her was simply intolerable.
“I still insist we marry,” Damien stated firmly.
“And I insist there is no need,” Isabella replied, wanting to cry. She knew she should be proud of herself for holding fast to her convictions. A loveless marriage was truly hell on earth. Yet, despite all her noble affirmations, all she really felt was utter loneliness.
“Damien! Where the bloody hell are you, man!” Jenkins burst unexpectedly into the dining room, his face flushed with color. “You're not going to believe what I have just seen,” the valet proclaimed as he crossed the room.