Page 20 of Wickedly Yours
“Not in the least,” Malden admitted as he studied his wine.
Affronted, she snapped. “It’s a simple question.” She mimicked the words he’d used earlier. “I suppose it was for Nick’s sake.”
He drained his wine glass and faced her with a hungry look.
Arabella’s heart thudded dully, and the tips of her breasts puckered beneath her dress.He likes me just a bit.
“It was most assuredly not for Nick.” He shrugged, his eyes not leaving hers. “I’ve been obsessed with punishing you for your deceit. Possibly it was for that. Punishment.” His voice had lowered to an erotic growl that played across her skin.
“I’m not sure how I should reply to that.” Dark wicked images filled Arabella’s head of Malden. Touching her. Stroking her skin.
“Perhaps it’s best you don’t.”
Malden’s leg hung over the arm of the chair, so close she could run her fingers over the sculpted muscles of his thigh if she wished. And shedidwish to.
Arabella turned and looked back into the fire, ashamed at the direction of her thoughts. Perhaps a love of scandalous undergarments wasn’t the only thing she’d inherited from her mother. Charlotte had been terribly flirtatious, which was a polite way to say Mother was a bit of a whore. She’d often heard her parents arguing about Charlotte’s behavior.
“Why did you do it?” Malden murmured.
There was no anger in his tone nor accusation, just simple curiosity. For a split-second Arabella thought he was speaking about her agreement to marry Corbett. He wasn’t. Malden wished to know why she’d helped Corbett in his failed attempt to take Jemma back to Bermuda. She stayed silent for the longest time, and just stared into the fire, wondering how to explain her motivation. How does one rationalize assisting in the kidnapping of one’s future sister-in-law?
Finally, Arabella said, “Have you ever considered how difficult it is to be one of the Devils of Dunbar? No,” she shook her head before he could answer, “I don’t suppose you have. You’d never understand unless you were born to it. There are such expectations, you see, and not all of them good.”
“I am familiar with expectations.” A small trace of bitterness tinged his words, but he didn’t elaborate.
“The Duke of Dunbar and his familymustserve the Crown. This is not lip service, Malden. It is part of our family history, along with the tales of witchcraft and such.” She gave a snort and waved her hand. “Nick’s parlor tricks aside, to have our loyalty questioned was more horrible than you can imagine. My parents died because of the rumors. My father shot my mother and then turned the gun on himself. Oh, I know,” her words slurred a bit, “my parents would have probably come to a bad end on their own. At least that’s what Aunt Maisy says.” She took a deep breath. “After, it was only me and Nick.”
Treason. Suicide. Her adored older brother treated as if he were the devil because his eyes were two different colors. Even Mother had never looked directly at Nick, horrified she’d given birth to a monster. The entiretonheld their breath in anticipation of Arabella making the slightest misstep. Flirt too much at a ball. Dance with abandon. Laugh at an innuendo. Become the whore her mother was.
She did none of those things.
The only small joy she allowed herself was silken undergarments, whispering against her skin while she dressed like an elderly matron. A small remembrance of the mother she both hated and desperately loved.
“You did not know Nick when he mourned Jemma, thinking her dead,” she continued. “You did not despair he would drink himself to death and leave you alone in the world.” Arabella turned back to the fire and sipped her wine. “I wished her never to hurt my brother again. I wished her to disappear.”
14
Bloody hell.
Part of him hadn’t wanted Arabella to prove herself human. Far easier to resist a devious woman with no conscience, though his cock seemed not to care either way.
Damn.
He found himself enraptured by the way the fire lit the pale oval of her face, her eyes dark like coal. A bruise had darkened against her cheek from Corbett’s harsh treatment and Rowan had to push away the rage he felt. He admired her beautiful hands, so slender and elegant, moving in a nervous fashion against her skirts as she spoke about her parents. The lustful nature he saw that Arabella kept trapped beneath the somber attire.
“We should speak of what happened with Corbett.” He found himself saying.
“I do not need you hovering about demanding I allow you to soothe me. She stood abruptly almost tipping over the small table laden with the dishes from their meal. “How many times must I tell you?”
“That’s just as well.” His hand went to reach for her skirts least she topple into the fire.
An offended puff of air left her lips. “PerhapsIshould sleep in the stables.”
The glass of wine sloshed a bit, sprinkling Rowan with red drops. Swaying on her feet, she reached out a hand for balance and Rowan trapped her neatly between his legs.
Her eyes widened. “What do you think you are doing? Release me this instant.”
“No.” Rowan hooked his leg around her hips, pulling her closer. Taking the glass from her hand, he tugged Arabella down into his lap. She was softer than he’d imagined, her bottom lush against the arousal in his breeches. The front of her dress, a hideous high-necked atrocity he longed to strip from her body, hid the rounded curves of her breasts, but he felt their fullness pressing against his chest.
