Nicola Cornick - One Night Of Scandal

‘Deb,’ he said.

‘I am sorry,’ Deb said again, wretchedly. ‘I have been so afraid all the time and I tried so hard not to do foolish things, but sometimes I cannot seem to suppress them.’

‘Did you think that spending the night with me was a foolish thing and to be regretted?’ Richard asked.

Deb shook her head and unconsciously strained a little closer to the comfort of his body. ‘No. It was a wonderful thing! But I never meant to fall in love with you, Richard, and I certainly never intended to marry, for I was so afraid of trusting again and being hurt and losing my self-respect. And I was afraid that when you knew you would have no good opinion of me-’

‘Deb,’ Richard said again. His voice was hard with suppressed anger and Deb shuddered to hear it, though she could not be sure whether it was turned against her or against Neil Stratton. And when Richard spoke again he had moderated his tone, though she could still hear the violence underneath.

‘Do you think,’ he said, ‘that I give a damn about whether or not you were truly married to Neil Stratton? If you love me and wish to be married to me, then that is all that matters.’

Deb was trembling fiercely now. ‘But I am a fallen woman, Richard! Even now, if the truth came out, I would be utterly ruined! That was one of the reasons I struggled so hard against my attraction to you, and why Ross and Olivia were shocked that I could make the same mistake twice, only this time knowing what I did, with my eyes open…’

‘Why did you do it?’ Richard asked.

Deb hesitated. ‘I thought it was because I was attracted to you too strongly to resist, but the truth was that I was falling in love with you, and I wanted to love you and desperately wanted you to love me too.’

‘That is more than enough for me,’ Richard said, and Deb could hear the smile in his voice now and her heart started to ease, though she still hesitated.

‘I do not understand why what happened before does not matter to you, Richard.’

‘It matters to me that someone hurt you so badly,’ Richard said. His voice softened. ‘The rest is not important. How could it be, when you chose of your own free will to give yourself to me? Deb, it is you I love, not Mrs Deborah Stratton, widow, or Miss Deborah Walton, spinster, or however you or society wishes to describe you. It is what you are-warm and impulsive and vibrant and so alive-that is important to me, and if you love and trust me too, then that is all that matters.’

Deb smiled shakily. ‘It is true that I was not sure if I could trust a rake,’ she said shyly, ‘but I know that you are not like Neil. You are an honourable man.’

Richard angled his head and kissed her hard, pressing her head back against the wooden bars. She gave a little gasp of protest and he straightened.

‘You can trust me.’ His voice was not so steady now. ‘I swear it. I love you. I would never hurt you. God knows, Deborah, it must surely be apparent to you that I would walk across burning coals for you if I had to. I would probably eat burning coals if you asked me.’

Deb tilted her head up towards him. ‘Richard…’

‘Yes?’ The word was like a caress on her skin. Deb wriggled.

‘The burning coals will not be necessary. But we have been away from the dining room for a considerable time. People will have noticed.’

‘They will indeed.’

‘Taken with the rumours about last night, I fear that your freedom is lost. You will have to marry me.’

There was a pause.

‘Are you proposing to me, Mrs Stratton?’ Richard said, after a moment. Once again Deb could hear the amusement in his voice and she felt warm.

‘I believe that I must. In a moment they will find us, you see…’ Even as she spoke, Deb heard the scrape of a door and the sound of voices at the other end of the ballroom.

‘They will whip off this damnable sheet and find you and me tied up together beneath it in a wholly scandalous and utterly compromising fashion. There will be no alternative other than a quick marriage to silence the gossips.’

She felt Richard bend his neck so that his lips could brush her hair. ‘How quick?’

‘Oh, as quickly as we can make it? By special licence? So that we can return to the hunting lodge for our honeymoon?’

She felt the easel shake as he laughed. The voices and footsteps were coming closer. The ballroom was filling up with Lady Sally’s visitors.

‘The hunting lodge…’ Richard said. ‘I am so glad that you enjoyed it.’

Deb could feel herself blushing. Suddenly the warmth of the sheet was stifling, the press of Richard’s body stirring all the feelings they had explored with intimate delight the previous night. ‘I did,’ she said. ‘I am sorry-I never thanked you.’

‘It was my pleasure,’ Richard said. ‘Truly.’

His mouth captured hers, warm and tantalising, making Deb’s mind reel. Briefly she freed herself.

‘Richard! Any moment now they will see us-’

‘Let them.’

He kissed her again and Deb succumbed to the pure pleasure of his touch. She burned at every point their bodies were in contact. The easel strained as they pulled on their bonds, prompted by an instinctive desire to hold one another. Deb gasped in frustration as she could not break free and gasped again as Richard angled his head to kiss her more deeply, pressing his hard body against every yielding line of hers. His tongue curled lazily against hers and an infinitely sweet sensation flooded Deb’s veins and made her melt with longing. She clenched her fingers about the wooden upright of the easel.

‘I love you,’ Richard murmured, as his lips left hers to trace the line of her throat and move down to tease the soft skin above the collar of her gown. ‘Always.’

‘This is the moment that we have all been waiting for! Light the candles, please.’ Lady Sally’s voice spoke suddenly from nearby, making Deb jump. She tried to pull away from Richard, but he was having none of it and she would not have been able to put much distance between them even had he co-operated with her. Instead he nibbled gently at the sensitive skin below Deb’s ear, sending goose bumps along her skin. She could have sworn that he was smiling. It felt as though he was smiling.

‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ Lady Sally continued, ‘may I present my watercolour calendar, which I am sure will be the greatest of sensations-’

‘Richard,’ Deb whispered desperately, ‘we mustn’t-’

Richard’s only response was to kiss her with prolonged and deliberate intensity until she forgot everything else and was grateful for the support of the wooden easel, without which she would surely have tumbled to the floor.

There was a flare of light as someone whipped the sheet from about them. Deb made an incoherent sound against Richard’s mouth but he did not relent, continuing to kiss her with a purposeful pleasure that drew a roar of shock and scandalised comment from their audience. Eventually he let her go, and Deb blinked in the light. The ballroom was packed with people and illuminated with a hundred candles. In the long mirrors at the end of the ballroom, Deb could see their reflection. They looked utterly indecent, she tied with her hands behind her back and Richard with his arms about her in the closest and most private of embraces. Deb rested her head against Richard’s shoulder in appalled resignation.

For once, Lady Sally Saltire looked shocked and was entirely silenced. For once, Justin Kestrel also lost his customary aplomb.

‘Good God, Richard-’ he began.

‘Thank goodness you are here, Justin,’ Richard said coolly to his brother. ‘Untie these bonds so that I can kiss my fiancée properly, there’s a good fellow.’

With superb aplomb, Justin Kestrel loosened the ropes that bound his brother to the easel and shook him formally by the hand once he was freed.