And The Widow Wore Scarlet (Scandalous Sons 1)

“I love you, Damian Wycliff. Promise me we will not waste another minute.”

“Not a single second.”

She bent her head and kissed him. It was a kiss that spoke of deep abiding love, one that soon turned wild and ravenous.

“Let us stay here tonight,” she said as her nimble fingers set to work on his cravat. “Just this once.”

He smiled as he covered her hand to prevent her from unfastening the knot. “I intend to indulge your every desire, every lascivious whim, but I’ll not eat broth. Let me send Cutler back to Bruton Street so he may return with a picnic.”

“Very well. I did promise never to serve you broth again.”

Damian jumped to his feet, raced from the room to his carriage and instructed Cutler to fetch supplies—wine, food and candles, not firewood. On his return to the dingy room in the lodging-house, he locked the door and stared at the grate.

“What is it?” Scarlett crossed the room and closed the gap between them. “Is something wrong?”

“Yes, something is wrong.” Damian cast her a wicked grin. “It’s damn cold in here. What the devil shall we do to keep warm?”

Chapter Twenty-Two

Two weeks later

They married at St George’s Hanover Square. Not because it was the church the nobility chose to forge their alliances, but because Damian had purchased a common licence and it happened to be the best church in the parish.

Mr Cavanagh and Mr Trent witnessed the discreet affair, the only other guests being Dermot Flannery and the Marquis of Blackbeck. Not that it mattered to Scarlett. Had a congregation of a hundred well-wishers watched them exchange vows, she only had eyes for Damian Wycliff—her dangerously handsome husband.

After the ceremony, they stood on the stone steps and smiled when the marquis offered his felicitations. From his expression, it was impossible to tell if he was pleased or indifferent. Mr Flannery shed a tear or two during his congratulatory speech and then invited Damian to partake in an arm wrestling bout once his wound had fully healed.

“Are you certain you don’t want to invite our guests back to Bruton Street for a small breakfast?” Scarlett touched his arm, and her pulse raced. She didn’t want to make idle chatter when she might spend the rest of the day making love to her husband.

“While I am done with hating the marquis, I’d rather not break bread with him around the table—not today. Flannery is intent on snapping my arm to prove a point. And I need the use of both hands tonight.” His tone turned sultry, and his dark eyes scanned her face, her hair, and the midnight-blue gown she’d worn because she knew how much he liked the colour. “Have I told you how beautiful you look today?”

Scarlett couldn’t help but grin. “Five times or more.”

“Have I told you that I cannot wait to strip you out of that gown and devour every inch of your delectable body?”

Scarlett swallowed. “No, but I am keen to hear what you plan to do with me once we return to the privacy of our carriage.”

“Then let us say goodbye to Trent and Cavanagh. There’s somewhere I want to take you before we venture home.”

Curiosity burned. “Is it to look at a house?”

With the need to put the past behind her, Scarlett had agreed to sign the house in Bedford Street over to Joshua Steele. The lord could sell the property and pay his debts, start a new life, free from guilt. Joshua had cried when she told him, had promised

Damian he intended to wed the mother of his son. Having discovered that Jemima had been the one to spook Scarlett’s horse and had paid the groom to let his hound loose in Green Park, Joshua had banished the girl to his country estate in Yorkshire.

“We are going to look at a house, but it is not for the reason you think.” Damian stepped closer, so close she felt the warmth of his body. “As the man tasked with satisfying your every desire, I wouldn’t dream of suggesting we remain in town. You once told me you want a house with countryside views that stretch for miles. A family who picnics in the park, children to love, a husband to adore.”

“I have a husband.” Her heart swelled with excitement, happiness and love. “But would very much like to have a child.” She had feared it was too soon to broach the subject.

“And I am more than happy to fulfil my part in the task. Lots of practice is needed, I think, if one is to be certain of success. I’m sure Dr Redman would offer similar advice.”

Scarlett chuckled. “Dr Redman is a logical man.”

“Indeed.” Those dark, hungry eyes dropped to her lips. A wicked grin formed though he said nothing. He gestured for Mr Trent and Mr Cavanagh to join them.

“You were right, Mrs Wycliff,” Mr Cavanagh said with some amusement. It felt so good to lose the name Lady Steele. What did she care for a title? “And we were wrong. It seems that Wycliff is not doomed to roam the fiery pits of hell. Love has saved him from a stab to the leg, a lead ball to the arm and from a life of eternal damnation.”

Mr Trent snorted. “If Wycliff can fall in love, there is hope for us all.”