Sylvia Day - The Stranger I Married

“May I join you?”

“Please do.” Despite the things left unspoken between them, she was grateful for his company. Especially after sharing tea with the dowager, who had thankfully just departed.

Closing her novel, she set it aside and gestured to a servant for more refreshments.

“How are you, Isabel?” he asked with a searching glance, once he settled in the seat across from her.

“I am well, John,” she assured him. “Very well. How are you?”

“I, too, am well.”

She glanced around, then lowered her voice. “Please tell me truthfully. Have I hurt you?”

His smile was so genuine it soothed her immeasurably. “My pride smarts, yes. But truthfully, we were slowly approaching the end of our association, were we not? I was oblivious to it, as I have been oblivious to most things since Lady Hargreaves passed on.”

Her heart welled with tenderness. Having lost a love once, she knew partly how it felt. It must have been much worse for John, since he had been loved in return.

“My time with you meant a great deal to me, John. Despite the horridly abrupt way our liaison ended, you do know that, don’t you?”

Leaning into the backrest, he held her earnest gaze and said, “I do know that, Isabel, and your feelings for me made it much easier to see the purpose of our liaison and give it the closure it deserves. You and I came together for solace, the both of us wounded by our marriages-me, by the death of my beloved wife, and you, by the death of your not-so-loved husband. No strings, no demands, no goals…just companionship. How could I ever resent you for moving forward when something deeper came into your life?”

“Thank you,” she said fervently, taking in every aspect of his handsome features with renewed affection. “For everything.”

“In truth, I envy you. When Grayson came to me, I-”

“What?” She blinked in surprise. “What do you mean ‘he came’ to you?”

John laughed. “So, he didn’t tell you. My respect for him has increased two-fold.”

“What did he say?” she asked, nearly overrun with curiosity.

“What he said is not important. It is the passion with which he said it that I envied. I want that, too, and I think I am finally ready for it, thanks in no small part to you.”

She wished she could reach out and squeeze his hand, which rested casually on the table, but she could not. Instead, she urged, “Promise me that we shall always be friends.”

“Isabel.” His voice held a smile. And a thread of steel. “Nothing on this earth could prevent me from being your friend.”

“Truly?” She arched a brow. “What if I play matchmaker? I have a friend…”

John gave a mock shudder. “Now, that might do it.”

As soon as Gerard and Spencer returned to the Hammond manse, they went straight to their rooms to bathe away the odors, sweat, and grime of the day.

Gerard longed to go to Isabel and had to fight the powerful urge to do so. He needed to talk with her, and share his discovery. He wanted to find comfort in her and soothe her fears with the knowledge that she was above all women to him. Most of all, he suspected she always would be and he wanted her to know that.

But then he wished to hold her, too, and he needed to be clean to do that.

So he sank into a hot bath, rested his head against the lip, and dismissed Edward.

When the door opened long moments later, he smiled, but kept his eyes closed. “Good evening, vixen. Did you miss me?”

A throaty murmur of assent made his smile broaden.

Isabel drew closer and his blood quickened with anticipation. Languid from exhaustion and the warmth of the bath, it took him precious moments to register the scent of a foreign perfume as she bent over him, then the re-opening of the door…

What in-

…just before an equally foreign hand thrust into the water and wrapped around his cock.

He jerked in surprise, sloshing water over the rim of the tub as he opened his eyes and met Barbara’s startled gaze. He’d noted the inviting glances she sent his way, but he had thought her wise enough to heed his returning scowl and warning at the Hammond’s ball in town. Apparently not.

He caught her wrist just as her gaze lifted and then filled with abject horror.

“If you wish to keep that hand,” came Pel’s voice from the adjoining doorway. “I strongly suggest you remove it from my husband’s bath.”

Dripping with ice, the words chilled him despite the warmth of the water he sat in.

Bloody everlasting hell!

Why does my wife have such an unfortunate way of finding me in the most compromising positions?

Baring his teeth, Gerard growled at his intruder, who stumbled back in fright. Rising from the water, he caught up the towel that had been draped over a chair by his valet and watched Pel stalk Barbara out of the room.

Isabel shouted down the hallway after Barbara’s retreating figure. “I am not done with you, madam!”

Squaring his shoulders, Gerard waited for his lioness to turn and face him. When she did, he flinched at her thundercloud expression. She stared at him a moment with unreadable amber eyes, her hair loose and flowing about her torso, her lush body covered in a dressing gown. Then she turned away, moving quickly to her room.

“Isabel.”

He fumbled for his robe and followed her, holding his hand out to prevent the rapidly closing door from smacking him in the face. Once inside, he studied her warily as he dressed, watched her pacing, wondered how to begin the conversation. Finally, he said, “I did not instigate nor participate in that advance.”

She shot a sidelong glance at him, but did not still her pacing.

“I think you want to believe me,” he murmured. She was not hurling invectives at him, or objects for that matter.

“It is not that simple.”

Walking toward her, he caught her shoulders, forcing her to still. It was then he felt her labored breathing, which caused his heart to race desperately. “It is that simple.” He shook her slightly. “Look at me. See me!”

Isabel’s gaze lifted and bore that same dazed, unfocused film he had seen at the Hammond’s ball.

Cupping her cheeks with his hands, he tilted her face up. “Isabel, my love.” He pressed his cheek to hers and breathed deeply, inhaling her scent. “I am not Pelham. Perhaps, before…when I was younger…”

She clutched his robe in clenched fists.

He sighed. “I am no longer that man, and I have never been Pelham. I have never lied to you, never hidden anything from you. From the moment we met, I have opened myself to you like I have with no other. You have seen me at my worst.” Turning his head, he kissed her cold lips, licking the seam, coaxing them softly to open. “Can you not find it in your heart to see me at my best?”

“Gerard…” she breathed, her tongue brushing tentatively along his, making him groan.

“Yes.” He pulled her closer, taking ruthless advantage of that tiny show of weakness. “Trust me, Pel. I have so much I wish to entrust in you. So much to share. Please, give me-give us-that chance.”

“I am afraid,” she admitted, baring what he had known, but was waiting for her to say.

“How strong you are to reveal that,” he praised, “and how lucky I am to be the man you share your fears with.”

She tugged at the loose belt of his robe, undid her own, and pressed her bare skin to his. No barriers between them. Her cheek to his chest, he knew she listened to his heart, heard its steady beat. He reached beneath her dressing gown and stroked the length of her spine.

“I don’t know how to do this, Gray.”

“Neither do I. But surely, using our combined experience with the opposite gender, we can manage. I was always able to tell when a paramour was tiring of me. Surely-”

“You lie. No woman has ever lost interest in you.”

“No sane woman,” he corrected. “Did you see no warning signs with Pelham? Or did he just wake up one morning without his brain?”

Isabel rubbed her face in his chest and laughed. It was a shaky sound, but true mirth, nevertheless. “There were signs, yes.”

“So we shall make another bargain, you and I. You tell me the moment you see what appears to be a sign, and I promise to reassure you in a way that leaves no doubt.”

She pulled back and looked up him, her mouth lush and wide, her eyes fringed with chocolate-colored lashes. He stared, enraptured by her features, which were nowhere near refined or delicate. Isabel was a raving, brazen beauty.

“God, you are so lovely,” he murmured. “It hurts sometimes to look at you.”

Her creamy skin flushed, that telltale touch of color speaking volumes. Pel was a woman of the world if ever there was one, but he could make her blush like a schoolgirl.

“Do you think your plan will work?” she asked.

“What? Talking to each other? Never allowing doubts to fester?” He sighed dramatically. “Too much work perhaps? I guess we will simply have to stay abed and fuck like rabbits.”

“Gerard!”

“Oh, Pel.” Lifting her, Gerard spun in a circle. “I am mad for you. Can you not see that? As much as you worry about holding my interest, I worry about holding yours.”

Isabel wrapped her slender arms around his neck and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I am mad for you, as well.”

“Yes,” he said, laughing. “I know.”

“Conceited rake.”

“Ah, but I am your conceited rake, which is just how you want me. No, don’t pull away. Let’s make love, and then talk.”

She shook her head. “We cannot skip dinner again.”

“You dressed to seduce me, and now that your curves are pressed to my skin, you withdraw? What torture is this?”

“Considering how no provocation is required to lure you to sex, that was not my intent. I am undressed in this fashion because I napped.” Her mouth curved in that wicked smile he adored. “And dreamt of you.”

“Well, now I am here. Use me as you wish. I beg of you.”

“As if you are deprived.” She stepped back, and he made a great show of struggling to release her.

Growling, he muttered, “I wish I could say coming here was an error, but I think not.”

“I think not either.” She shot him a seductive glance over her shoulder. “And…good things come to those who wait.”

“Do tell me more,” he purred, following her.

“I shall tell you while you help me dress. But first things first, you keep that woman away from you, Grayson. If I find you with her again, I will definitely take that as a sign.”

“Never fear, vixen,” he murmured, wrapping his arms about her waist as she paused in front of the armoire. “I believe your point was well and truly made.”

She laced her fingers with his at her abdomen. “Hmmmph. We shall see about that.”

“I thought she intended to scratch my eyes out!”

Spencer shook his head and looked across the Hammond lower parlor to where Isabel stood off to the side, speaking with Lady Ansell. “What the devil were you thinking?”

Barbara wrinkled her nose. “When I exited my rooms and saw Grayson entering his, I assumed Pel was still below with the other guests.”

“It was daft of you, however you look at it.” He caught the eye of his brother, whose glowering look spoke volumes. Rein her in, it said.

“I know,” she said morosely.

“And really, you know, I’ve tried to tell you-one Faulkner cock is as good as another.”

“Yes, I suppose that’s true.”

“Have you learned your lesson? Stay away from Grayson.”

“Yes. Yes. Will you promise to save me from her wrath?”

“Perhaps…”

She understood. “I will make my excuses in a moment.” Barbara moved away.

Anticipating a night of carnal gratification, Spencer watched her sashay away with a smile.

“Did I hear Lady Stanhope correctly?” bit out a voice from behind him.

“Mother.” He rolled his eyes. “You really must stop eavesdropping.”

“Why did you warn her away from Grayson? Let her have him.”

“Apparently, Lady Grayson took exception to that idea, to the point where Lady Stanhope fears for her person.”

“What?”

“And Lord Hargreaves has gracefully withdrawn from the field. The newly reunited Graysons no longer have any impediments to marital bliss.”

Glaring across the room, she muttered, “That woman agreed to cast him aside. I should have known she was lying.”

“Even if she had not been, Gray is so taken with her, I doubt anything would keep him away. Look how he devours her with his gaze. And truth be told, I spoke with him a great deal today and she makes him happy. Perhaps you should concede this particular battle.”

“I will not!” she retorted brusquely, brushing her dark gray skirts with gloved hands. “I will not live forever and before I take my dying breath I wish to see Grayson with a suitable heir.”