Page 88 of Tempting the Marquess

William gasped. “I’m going to come. Hell, I’m going to…” and he pulled away, just as his whole body shuddered and his seed spurted forcefully onto her breasts.

Half-dazed, he stared at her. She beamed. “Well, that wasfun.”

“I’m not sure I’m ever going to be able to move again.”

Samantha laughed. “Oh dear, you poor old thing. Shall I fetch your pipe and slippers?”

“Minx,” he said, carefully cleaning her breasts with a sheet corner. Then he inched himself around so his head rested on the pillows, and tugged her into hisarms.

“Mmmm.” She cuddled against him. “You have a lot of nights to make upfor.”

“Planning on being a demandingwife?”

“Very much so. But only if you swear to never, ever take marital advice from other people again. If you are going to talk to someone, talk tome.”

Abruptly, William tensed. “Not all things will be easy to hear. In fact, some will be very difficult indeed.”

Samantha glanced up, unease banishing her languor. “What do youmean?”

“There is something. Something I should have said a long time ago. I just hope you won’t hateme.”

Unease became cold dread. William looked so grave, a shiver passed through her. Surely nothing could be so bad? “How could I possibly hate you? Unless…unless you were intimate with another woman in France? Is that it?” she whispered, pain slashing throughher.

“No! Never. It’s nothing likethat.”

“Thenwhat?”

He cursed. “I don’t even know how to say the words.”

“Please, just say them,” she begged. “I can’t bearthis.”

“Very well. Your…your father is being investigated for treason.”

Shock hit her like a bucketful of icy water, and she jerked away from him as a hundred screaming denials raced to her lips. How could he say something so evil? Treason was practically the worst offence a person could commit! “You’re lying! My father would never do such a thing. Just because he drinks too much and has business meetings doesn’t make him a traitor!”

“He would, and he has. Claremont has been in league with the French a very, very longtime.”

“No,” she denied vehemently, “You can’t say…where is the proof?”

“You’ve witnessed a few odd things yourself,” he said calmly. “The altercation in the garden where your father hit that man. The very talkative guest at your mother’s arts dinner.”

“Mr. Ashcroft?”

“There is no Mr. Ashcroft, or a grandson. Whoever sat next to you made all that up, so you would trust him and think badly of me. After you told me about it, I went straight to the Home Office.”

“And informed them my father is a traitor?” she said, bitterness coating her words.

“No. They were already aware. I mean, this investigation has been underway for some time, I don’t even know how long. My superiors were worried, and I was too, that your father and his associates had started and would continue to use you to get to me. Your life might have been in danger. That is why they sent me to France. I wasn’t truly needed there, but as long as I stayed away, they wouldn’t concentrate onyou.”

Chills swept through her body and she pulled the quilt up over herself. It couldn’t possibly be true. Surely she would know if her father was a criminal. And yet, if she were honest with herself, how much time had she actually spent with him? Her childhood had been extended visits to Westleigh Park and over a decade at Miss Chadwick’s. Even since she had returned to town, he continued to attend his frequent meetings or lock himself away in his library. They had only really started talking a few months ago. For an hour at atime.

Where he had always made a point of enquiring about William. Asking where he’d been and who he’d been with. What he’d been doing. What his planswere.

And she’d always told him. Chirping away like an excited littlebird.

“William,” she said, as a hideous thought lodged itself in her mind, “Your getting shot in France, was that…was that an accident?”

He looked away, and an agonized whimper escaped her throat.

OhGod.

“It’s my fault you were nearly killed,” she cried, burrowing against his warm, hard body for comfort. “I’m so sorry. A few days after you left I couldn’t bear it. My father asked me what was wrong and I told him about the French mission. I’m sorry. I loveyou.”

He pulled her tighter against him. “I would do it again. Take more bullets. I just want to keep yousafe.”

Hours later, Samantha remained wide awake. Tomorrow she had to go home and face the biggest liar, the most shocking fraud sheknew.

How on earth could she doit?