Snowflakes and Scandals

Chapter 7

Chapter 7

“Then let us write our own last chapter. Let us no longer be tossed about by unanswered questions and unfulfilled desires,” Dahl urged.

“I cannot bear the truth of it. You were going to marry another woman, Dahl. A woman not me. I was not yet betrothed to Gerald. We could?—”

Dahl held up his hand to stop her. “There is truth that will break your heart even more. It is why I’ve never talked about it.”

“You must tell me. I am tired of it all. Knowing there is more to the story but without a clue what really happened. Are you surprised I am averse to your advances?”

“Claudine was pregnant,” he said bluntly. “I was the father of her babe, and I had no choice in the matter. From that day, my future was written in stone.”

Ember shrank into the corner of the carriage, her head against a squab. “Oh, dear Lord.” She rubbed her forehead.

“And then…”

“And then the tragedy everyone knows about.”

The carriage crash.

“I wish I would have died along with everyone else. Or I wish I had been the only one to die. It was my sin and everyone else paid for it. My mother was killed right away. Lady Morton lived a few minutes after the carriage crashed and she stared at me, not with any accusations, but with a—with a look that urged help. And I could not. I could only see the back of Claudine’s head, her black hair fanned out over her shoulders and draping my hand.

“And I was crushed between a tree and the carriage. I can’t have children, Ember, such was my injury. Also, part of the reason I am out rutting like a tomcat whenever I can. No consequences.”

Ember fell to her knees in front of him, placed her head in his lap and sobbed. He leaned over her and let his tears tumble over her exposed neck. “There are days when I cannot bear it, my dear,” he said.

“I didn’t know. I didn’t know, Trent.”

They swayed for several minutes until they’d calmed themselves. Trent lifted her up and into his lap where she curled, one arm over his shoulder. “I love you, Ember. And I know what I have lost. I tried to tell you at the end of the summer when I had somewhat recovered but by then you were already betrothed to Gerald. And you seemed happy. I wasn’t going to blacken your life further.”

“Oh, Dahl. You should have told me.”

He kept his hand in place rather than remind her that the licentious Dahl was holding her in his arms. They finally rolled into London at dark, exhausted and unburdened by the now revealed truths of the past.

He took her hand and squeezed. “Don’t be shocked at anything. The news will not have been published yet, but the servants may have caught wind of gossip,” he said.

She nodded. Trent jumped from the carriage and reached back for. How many nights like this should they have had together? Coming home late from the ball? Arm in arm and ready to tumble, uninhibited, into their bed?

And what had happened in her marriage that had set her against sexual congress?

When they knocked at the door, Trent was happily surprised that one of her servants actually answered. He’d expected the worst—that the servants did know and may have made decisions that benefited them over Ember.

“Lady Chester. We weren’t expecting you,” the servant said.

“That’s all right, Fielding. Some unexpected business came up. Can you have a room made up for Lord Dahlingford?”

He nodded and then bowed before leaving them alone.

“Should I go count the silver now?” she asked, sounding a bit more sanguine about the situation.

He smiled. “As you wish.”

“Will you stay long?” she asked.

“I won’t be here in the morning when you wake. I will be making a visit to each of your accusers. You are not to worry about any of the outcomes. Pretend it is a normal day and we’ll have a nice supper upon my return.”

“Should I go to the bank?”

“Hmm. Maybe that would be a good idea. They need to know that Mr. Marshall has no more authority to act for you, certainly. Request copies of your ledgers. That might take a few days, but best to get it started.”

“I will.” Ember hesitated. “I don’t know what to do about us, Dahlingford. Too much time has passed. The wounds are too deep.”

Trent wasn’t sure either. “If you could to it all over, what would you do?”

“Well, that’s obvious. I would have relieved Mr. Marshall of his duties that day after Gerald died.”

“That’s the spirit.” He smiled again and took her hand. “I promise, no part of your life will change over the next few days. You will have every good thing that Gerald left you, including your boys.”

“What about you?”

“Oh, you’ve always had me.” He squeezed her hand again. “May I escort you to your room?” They trod up the stairs arm-in-arm, silent and contemplative. At her door, he asked, “May I kiss you, Ember? I haven’t done such a thing since you were sixteen.”

“You didn’t ask then. Nor did you ask at the park.”

“Then, I knew you wanted me too. At the park because I wanted to.” Trent felt the rush of youthful desire—pure, unadulterated, shared and right.

“I’m sure in a few days, I will owe you more than a kiss. I will happily make a downpayment now,” she said. She leaned against her door and rubbed her hand along his arm. She was near even with him—eye-to-eye, mouth-to-mouth. Her legs and buttocks just close enough to grab in a passionate embrace.

Hopefully, there would be time for that later. The road must be paved before he could walk upon it.

“Don’t promise something you can’t give, Ember. We’ve waited too long, and I don’t want to make any more mistakes. Or worse, the same mistakes.”

Her hand cupped his shoulder, her thumb brushed the skin above his cravat. His control had never been in question. Let Ember find and take what she wanted.

Trent watched as she bit her lower lip, her gaze taking him in. “You’ve been all my unfulfilled dreams, Dahl. All of them,” she whispered. She softly pressed her lips to his. Her long fingers stroked his face, her lips searched along his jaw and settled near his ear. He sighed.

A familiar warmth heated his loins. An unfamiliar urge to conquer her fully weighed him down.

Her lips nibbled at his again, and he could no longer resist the urge to open his mouth over hers and taste the nectar of Ember Boothe.

Ember’s pride was a wicked thing. One of the hardest things she had to do was admit that she wanted Dahl desperately.

And the flames burning up her body were totally unwelcome—not what a proper lady of the ton should be feeling at all. She slid into her room and closed the door before she invited him in. Oh, how was she going to freely give herself to him?

How was she going to forgive herself? Lay with Dahlingford or forever deny them the slightest chance at happiness? No matter what, she was going to owe Dahl a very large debt. And apparently, she had only one thing with which to repay him.

The bartering had already been completed. She’d already said she would share his bed for the things he was about to do to assist her. Money in exchange for her body. There was a name for women like that.

Nothing was ready for Ember’s return, as she’d directed her servant to ready Dahl’s room first. The fireplace was cold. Her bed wasn’t turned down and her lady’s maid was still at Redfield. She yanked the covers back and sat on the cool linens. She removed her shoes and hurled her cloak over the bed for another layer of warmth. Instead of calling for a servant to light her fire, she curled beneath the heavy covers. She gave a quick thought to her sons before memories of Dahlingford eased her into sleep.

Come morning, Ember was late to rise—the house was eerily quiet—no boys, no lady’s maid, no Dahlingford. Only her memories and her worries.

She went through the day in a daze, visiting the bank as she and Dahl had discussed. Performing those embarrassing duties to discover her financial situation was indeed dire. And then pacing in the house, feeling old and foolish and lacking.

Come supper there was still no Dahl, so she sat down alone.

After she nibbled on a light two-course supper—soup, bread and cheese—she stood at the windows in her front living room, holding back the curtain. Snow was falling and a beautiful blanket covered the square. Would the snow hide her first real scandal?

Was that what was keeping Dahl out so late? She nibbled at her fingernail until she’d torn it to the quick.

Strange how her world had come to a complete stop.

The servants had quietly come and gone. Dove checked in with her twice. In her bedroom, a fire was burning hot in the hearth. Her cloak had been put away and a thick quilt now covered her bed. She locked her door and stripped to the barest of essentials before performing quick ablutions and climbing beneath the covers.

She was dying from the shame. Aside from her sons, she’d lost or was about to lose everything. Yet, she dwelt on the astonishing possibilities.

Sometime later, she woke. The fire in the hearth had died back. The cold had reached her but something else had stirred her as well.

He was sitting there, in the comfort of her overstuffed chair. The fire embers cast a shadow over his face.

“Don’t say anything, Ember,” he whispered. He pushed from his chair and bent at the fire, stirring it with a few pokes and adding logs. Dahl was wearing only his white linen shirt, and she could see the shape of his body which the fire clearly revealed.

He’d always been a beautiful man. Tears sprouted in her eyes as she remembered days past. Days when they had loved each other deeply in spite of their flaws.

Dahl moved toward the bed and stood looking down at her, bracing one hand on the overhead beam of the four-poster bed. What was he thinking? She owed him her body for just this one night. She opened her mouth, but he leaned toward her and lightly pressed his finger to her lips.

He sat beside her, the heat of his body warming her near the hip.

“Dahl,” she said, wanting to arch away from him as his warm hand landed on her thigh and then searched beneath the covers. His thumb moved over her skin in short, soothing passes. Her breath escaped in a rush, and she clenched her eyes shut. Let it be the dream she’d harbored deep inside and not the shame she could imagine in reality.

“Shhh,” he said.

She dug her fingers into her pillow and pressed her lips together.

Let it be quick. Let it be forever .

His hand slipped up her arm and cupped her shoulder, turning her slightly. He then brushed his lips against the round of her shoulder. His breath caressed like a summer breeze, but Ember thought she was dying in the heat of the desert. Dahl was a refreshing glass of water, yet he was the fire that would burn them to cinders.

She pushed at the blankets, needing to be free from the smothering weight. Her chest heaved. “Dahl,” she whispered again.

“I am here.” His hand and fingers tortured her by slow degrees, caressing back and forth over her hip and thigh. Sometimes sliding uncomfortably close to those places that made her uncomfortably sensitive.

She steeled herself against his touch. She knew what was coming—at worst pain, at best an embarrassing, filthy inconvenience. And was Dahl the type to mock her if he didn’t enjoy himself? How had it all come to this?

His lips, too, were bothersome. Hot, light, ticklish. Distracting. Needful. Tempting.

“Please. Just do it.”

“No,” he said. His large hand brushed past her chemise, cupped her bottom and squeezed. He hummed, a strange sound that made her lips twitch. Was this the vaunted Dahlingford happy to be clasping her ass?

She peeked at him. Somehow, he’d settled beside her, on his side, facing her. He’d propped one arm beneath his head and didn’t seem to be in much of a hurry. He stroked his fingers lightly over the seam of her ass—just a quick tease back and forth.

Then Dahl reached further, a finger stroked between her legs and toyed at the button that already throbbed. She gasped and then pressed her hand against his chest. Why? Was she going to push him away when she should be grasping at this long-held dream?

“It’s not going to be quick, Ember. I’m going to enjoy every inch of your body, and that more than once. Until you are a puddle of used womanhood. Until you do what you said you would never do—tremble at my touch, submit to my every request and beg to have my cock inside you. No? You don’t think I can do it? Try to resist me, my dear. Try and I will punish you with the most pleasure you have ever had in your life. Pleasure so all encompassing you won’t know where I start and you end. Pleasure that will cause you to drip with need when you see me across the ballroom floor. Pleasure that will make your cheeks red with shame as you wonder who in the ballroom knows . All those things you’ve wondered about me will be answered.”

She was breathing hard. His expression was even harder.

His finger rubbed and circled. She pulsed with an unfamiliar want.

He meant it. She had brushed him aside so many times. She had heard the stories, had mocked him for his affairs, had blamed him for all that had happened between them, had bruised his ego.

And now he was going to prove her wrong, prove her weak and prove that she was a mere woman who could withstand nothing. Not when it came to Dahl. Not her dear Trenton.

She wrapped her hand about his neck and touched her forehead to his. “Dahl.”

Ember shifted her leg, giving him more of what he wanted—what she couldn’t admit to wanting from Dahl.

“That’s only the beginning, my dear.” He pushed her legs open wider, until she rolled to her back and the blankets fell away. There was enough light in the room to see the position she was in and how Dahlingford stared. His fingers returned to the titillating chore of arousing her flesh.

She closed her eyes again. Dahl toyed but did little else. Back and forth. Around and around. And then the surprise insertion of his finger deep into her. Ember bucked against the intrusion, but he pressed his palm to her mons to keep her in place. He continued his slow movements.

Dahl’s hands and mouth were everywhere. He rolled a bit, and his lips trailed kisses down the inside of her thigh. She wanted. Oh, how she wanted. She slipped her hands into his silken hair and tried to pretend they were the young lovers of bygone days.

Anytime he searched too far up her thigh, toward where his fingers worked, she tensed, trying to resist further advances. She labored to breathe.

He slowed, then stopped completely.

It was as if he threw cold water over her.

Ember couldn’t move. “Why?” she whispered.

Dahl rolled away from her and got to his feet. He lifted his shirt from his body and then strolled toward the fire mantel again, adding more logs to the fire. When he stood, the flames displayed the contours of his strong body and the length of his erection. She had no doubt he wanted her to see him in his forbidden glory.

What was she to do? What did he want?

“Take off your chemise, Ember. I want to see all of you.”

He watched as she struggled to fling the twisted blankets away and yank the chemise over her head. Her breasts were tender and nipples hard-tipped from the cold, and from Dahl. She crossed one arm over to hide them.

“So beautiful. Do you truly no longer care for me?” he asked. His face was hidden in the dark.

“Is this act the only way I can prove that I still do?”

“I know what you said to me. What you promised to give for what I willingly did for you today. But I do not want you if you do not want me. I’ve waited too long, with too much hope that someday we could return to what we had. Reclaim a small piece of happiness. I won’t take what you won’t freely give.”

She fell back in the bed and pulled the covers over her shoulders. “It’s not that simple.”

No! She and Dahl deserved something more than what had been thrown at them. She ran a hand over her forehead. She sat up and made the hardest decision of her life.

She walked toward him, thankful for the dark. Thankful that the flames showed her in the best light. “I want to give what you want. All that you want.” She pressed her hand against his bare chest. “But I can’t be one of your many women.”

Dahl wrapped his arm about her waist and pulled her close—naked flesh against naked flesh. She gasped at the warm contact. “Many? You have been the only woman. Ever.” Dahl pressed a kiss to her head. His arms encircled her, and he lifted, then gripped one of her legs to secure her around his waist. She hooked her other leg about him in the most awkward, titillating and intimate gesture.

She felt the length of him hard between her legs. She felt the teasing bounce as he carried her to the bed and lowered her amongst the bundle of blankets. Except her legs, which he kept wrapped around him.

He did not fall on top of her and pounce, as her husband had been fond of doing.

He flexed his hips, causing his erection to tease where his fingers had been. Then before she could have another thought, he gripped his manhood, slid into her with ease and then held her buttocks as he went as deep as possible. She groaned at the sudden pressure deep inside.

Dahl used her body with quick plunges inward and easy pulls out. Slick. Hot. And not pleasure exactly, but satisfaction. He was full and thick. She was comfortably wet.

Mainly, it wasn’t painful, and her body softened to his touch.

She pushed down the burning mortification as she realized her body was moving in time with his and she hummed deeply in the back of her throat. She clenched her eyes, unable or unwilling to watch as she gave in to him. Finally.