Bride Ball Page 14

  “His babe alone isn’t enough to stuff you full?” she continued.

  Kambry affected disinterest, though her heart pounded. She avoided her sister’s eyes in the mirror, brushing her hair without pause. “I enjoy Darren’s company.”

  “You can’t get more pregnant, Kambry.”

  It was a taunt. Some days, Kambry wondered if Marquita tortured her so, simply because she no longer had Amber to make miserable. Or perhaps, she was taking out her frustration that Amber was to be queen and had cemented her place as such by catching pregnant to Prince Edward. Rumor had it that medical tests on Amber had confirmed a son in her womb, while the blood tests had proven inconclusive on both Marquita and Kambry.

  Kambry ignored her sister, trying to block out the possibility that Marquita also carried a son and that she would deliver that son before Kambry labored. Goddess help her, Kambry would accept life as Darren’s mistress, putting up with Marquita or not. But how she would refrain from throttling the bitch was beyond her imagination.

  “Do you hope he’ll fall in love with you?” Marquita was on a tear, and nothing would satisfy her past the sight of a wound inflicted.

  Yes. By the Goddess, I wish it. Kambry held her tongue. That knowledge would give Marquita the power to inflict much deeper cuts.

  Marquita leaned closer. “Do you hope he’ll choose to marry you, because you gave him pity fucks?”

  “It’s not pity.” Kambry knew she should remain silent, but Marquita was crude and unkind, and Kambry had had enough of it.

  “Oh... I see. You love him.”

  Kambry sighed, put the brush on her dressing table, and drew her hair back to braid it for the night. Yes, she loved him. Goddess, but she’d always loved him, and his attentions since she’d caught pregnant had done nothing but make her crave more.

  “And what will you do, if I produce the heir?” she taunted.

  “I suppose that’s Darren’s choice.” She dared not say more. Any hint that Darren might prefer her company to Marquita’s would insure that she’d try to demand he dismiss Kambry once she was wife. It was just the spiteful sort of thing Marquita excelled at.

  “What is?” Darren asked, appearing in the doorway.

  “What to name the babes,” Kambry offered brightly, hoping he hadn’t heard too much of their conversation. Would he laugh that she loved him, if he knew it? Would he take her silence when Marquita asked it to mean she didn’t love him?

  “Ahhh. I see. My mother is rather fond of Erika for a girl.” He moved to Kambry’s back, patiently undoing the braid she’d been about to secure.

  Kambry met his eyes in the mirror, feeling her face heat at the hunger in his expression. “It’s a lovely name,” she replied.

  Marquita groaned, reminding them both that she was there.

  Darren combed his fingers through Kambry’s curls. “Are you well, Marquita? Should I send for a doctor?” he inquired in a tone that carried underpinnings of both concern and cool regard.

  “The babe is pressing on my back. Maybe you could rub at it?”

  He nodded, leaving Kambry to tend to Marquita. Her sister purred, lying against him, draping herself on his shoulder. She turned her face up to his, hinting at a kiss.

  Kambry stood and went to the bed to avoid the sight of it. Marquita didn’t want Darren; she just wanted to prove she could take him from Kambry. She’d likely succeed at it, too.

  “My bed is so lonely.” Marquita used her pouting voice, the one that had made Kambry ill in apprehension or disgust...or both, since they were children. “Won’t you share it?”

  Kambry knew Marquita was stroking at Darren intimately, making blatant offers of sex.

  I don’t want to see it. I can’t stomach it.

  She sent up silent prayers that Darren would refuse her, but she braced herself for his agreement. If Darren chose to, there was no way to stop him, and making a fool of herself would only encourage Marquita to do this again. And again...and again.

  “I would enjoy a repeat of the night we met,” he suggested.

  Her stomach rebelled, and Kambry sank to the bed. She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t watch Marquita with Darren. She couldn’t work her sister up in a sex show and offer her to the man she loved herself. She couldn’t even bear the thought of Darren loving her while her sister watched him do it. Marquita had no place in what was between them.

  But she did, and they all knew it.

  I can’t do it!

  Kambry had never refused Darren sexually. She’d never even considered doing it, but the idea of sharing a bed with both of them made her ill enough to do it.

  “I couldn’t possibly,” Marquita protested. “That is much too acrobatic for my delicate condition.”

  Kambry breathed a sigh of relief. Secretly, she believed Marquita suspected the truth that Kambry would shove the dildo deep enough to draw blood, given the chance to use it on her sister.

  “Nothing, then,” he decreed. “Perhaps another time, when you feel up to a romp.”

  Silence fell between them, a tense cloud that seemed to press down on Kambry.

  Marquita recovered at last. “I am a bit tired,” she offered coolly. “Perhaps after a night’s sleep—”

  “Just the thing,” he spoke over her.

  “Good evening, Darren.” Marquita strode across the room and out the open door.

  “Good evening,” he called after her.

  Was that false cheer? Kambry waited to see what would happen when the door latched.

  For a moment, stillness reigned.

  “Are you well, Kambry? Do you require a tea...or a doctor?” There was nothing cold in the inquiry.

  She realized tears beaded at her lashes and blotted them away with the kerchief she kept tucked in her sleeve. “It’s silly, really,” she attested. “The babe makes my moods so brittle.”

  “Do you wish me to leave you?”

  Never. “Not at all.”

  A soft sound that might have been a sigh escaped him. “May I join you then?”

  Always. “Yes. I’d like that.”

  He circled Kambry and settled on the bed, facing her, his expression unreadable. The kerchief slid from between her fingers, and Darren stroked it along one cheekbone and then the other.

  His hand slid away, and he leaned toward her. Kambry closed her eyes, her breathing hitching as his lips pressed to the spots he’d caressed with the linen.

  “Better?” he asked.

  “Yes. Much.”

  His lips brushed hers, and Kambry leaned into him, prepared to give him the energetic romp he wanted. Anything, as long as he touched her...and as long as Marquita wasn’t a part of it.

  “Slowly,” he breathed.

  “I thought you wanted—”

  “Slowly.” With that, his lips closed on hers, parting them patiently. He was thorough, his mouth playing at hers while he smoothed the sheer fabric over her rounded womb.

  Memories of the first time she wore this outfit for him filled her mind in startling detail, the clothier sent away, Darren pounding into her, their sounds leaving no question that he was well pleased with the wares.

  Darren drew her to the bed beneath him with a groan, pulling up at the gown. His mouth left hers. “Untie my lounging pants,” he requested.

  Kambry focused on that task, pushing the blue silk off his hips. Darren guided her hands to his chest and planted his hands on the mattress to either side of her waist, easing inside her. She fought for an unhindered breath, biting her lower lip as his length glided within her.

  He paused at the pinnacle, taunting her until her gasps became moans and Kambry wrapped herself around him. She begged for more, but he held his ground.

  “You never answered her,” he breathed.

  Kambry met his gaze, pleading for understanding. What had she not answered? How much of Marquita’s foul humor had he overheard? Did he believe her guilty of it, too, as he’d believed her guilty of taking the fertility drug?

  * * * *


  Darren couldn’t tell if she was lost in misery or confusion. Kambry’s expression shifted endlessly.

  “Do you love me?” He’d wanted to demand it, but it was a plea, at best. He was begging for a mistress’s love.

  No. I’m begging for Kambry’s love. I’ll beg for this. I’ll go to my knees and... There seemed no end to what he’d do to hear her profess love for him.

  The damned tears were back in her eyes. It was definitely misery, but why did she feel it? He understood the first well enough; she hadn’t wanted him to take Marquita up on her offer. But what was this?

  “Do you? Please... The truth, Kambry. No games.”

  She nodded, swallowing what was probably a knot of tears, but she offered no verbal response. Was she agreeing to answer him truthfully or giving him an answer? He had to know for certain.

  “Kambry? Do you love me?”

  “Yes,” she breathed. “I love you.” She sobbed, looking for all of paradise as if he was breaking her heart.

  “Don’t,” he soothed her. “There’s no need.”

  “Is there not?” she hitched out.

  Darren stroked her hair, reasoning that he should leave her body to discuss this, certain she’d misinterpret the move, if he did. “Have you never questioned my tenderness for you?”

  Kambry seemed confused by that.

  “I have realized... No. Goddess, but why is this so difficult to say to you?”

  “D-Darren?” Her chest moved in sharp little intakes of breath. If she expelled breath—and he assumed she did—he couldn’t mark the passage.

  “I love you. Damn it all, I think I’ve felt the stirrings of it from the beginning, but I was stupid enough to get into this mess, and now... Convincing you how I feel is nearly impossible.”

  Far from calming her, his announcement sent her into tears. Sobs wracked her body, and she buried her face in his chest.

  Darren’s cock made the decision for him, shrinking until it released her. He rolled to the side, taking Kambry with him, letting her spend her emotions in a heated spate. When she laid trembling and hitching in his arms, he tried again.

  “Do you hate me?” His heart ached that she might.

  “How could I?” There was something weary in that statement.

  He sighed in relief. “Then we’ll work this out.”

  “How? You gave your word. We all gave our word.”

  “We could—”

  “What if Marquita carries your heir?”

  I was right. I am breaking her heart. “I don’t know,” he admitted. He loathed himself for saying it. Kambry deserved better from him.

  “You do know. You gave your word.”

  Darren pulled her tight to his body, at a loss to reassure her that married to Marquita in name was all her sister could hope for. He couldn’t even get hard for the shrew anymore and hardly could in the days before she’d turned up pregnant. Marquita might get his name and position, but his heart would always be Kambry’s.

  “You must keep your word,” she decided.

  But only the letter of the word. Many men didn’t sleep with their wives. If it came to that, Darren would be one of them.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “Are you certain, mi’lady?” the doctor asked.

  Though the door was closed between them, her voice carried easily through. “I don’t want him here,” Marquita screeched.

  Darren’s jaw tightened in anger. He was certain Kambry would want him at the birth of their child.

  It is my child! Damn the woman, she has no right to refuse me the first moments of my babe’s life.

  Unfortunately, the doctor believed otherwise. He believed the laboring woman had the right to choose.

  The hack. “I should find another doctor for Kambry,” he grumbled. Did he really want someone this stupid tending to Kambry and their child together?

  “He is the best Haven has to offer,” his father stated, appearing at his side. “He’s no Philip or Douglas Wheatstand, but he’s a competent and caring physician.”

  Darren grunted his agreement, torn between the best care for Kambry and his anger at the medical professional.

  “Come have a drink with me,” Matthew suggested.

  “She’s close.” He couldn’t leave now. He had to know.

  “The servants will come for you when it’s finished. It’s not imperative that you—”

  “It is!” Goddess knows it is. Please let it be a girl.

  Marquita screamed, a sound more of frustration than of pain.

  “A few more pushes,” the doctor instructed.

  “A few more,” she mocked him, though breathlessly. “A few more. I will pen those words and shove the parch— Oh! That hurts!”

  “Just push. The head is emerging now.”

  “Good,” she snapped.

  Darren winced at the thought of being married to Marquita, even if it was in name only, even if his sweet Kambry shared his bed every night and presented him with dozens of babes.

  “That drink,” his father drawled, “is waiting. It sounds as if you may need it.”

  “I’ll consider it.” If she presents me with a son, drowning my losses may be preferable to admitting my failure to Kambry tonight.

  He considered following in his father’s wake, taking the drink for fortification. The squall of an infant brought him up short. His heart pounded erratically, and the internal litany of pleas for a girl made his head spin.

  “You have a daughter,” the doctor announced.

  Darren placed his hand on the wall, letting out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. His lungs ached in response. His entire body went weak in relief.

  No matter what happened now, he wouldn’t have to marry Marquita. Getting rid of her was going to cost him a fortune, but it wasn’t impossible.

  “Do not bring it to me,” Marquita ordered. “There are nurses and nannies for that.”

  A maid answered, her voice mirroring Darren’s confusion. “The babe needs a feeding, mi’lady.”

  “And ruin my breasts? There are bottles for that. Beside that point, I can be ready to bear again in a year, if I’m not wasting away my resources by nursing.”

  You will never have the chance to bear for me again. The thought energized him, and Darren straightened.

  The door opened, and a maid stepped out, a bundle of babe in her arms. She met Darren’s eyes, paling.

  He was aware that he was a frightening sight. His muscles were clenched tight and his teeth grinding.

  Darren put his hands out, motioning for the maid to place his daughter in his arms. She hesitated, then settled the blanket-wrapped mass in his care. Expectation hung heavy between them.

  The babe was light, probably the result of Marquita’s obsession with her weight while she carried. She squirmed, seeking him out with big, blue eyes, golden wisps of hair dusting her forehead.

  “Hein Darren?” the maid asked, nearly squirming herself.

  His daughter yawned, and he managed a weak smile. Whether he meant to dismiss Marquita or not, this was his daughter. No one would begrudge him a child of a mistress he’d openly claimed. I hope.

  “Have the cradle moved to my rooms...and send the first bottle and nappy to Lady Kambry’s immediately. I will be there.”

  He turned without giving her time to question him, his long stride eating up the distance from one sister to the other in a few short moments.

  Kambry looked up at his entrance, paling at the sight of the babe in his arms. She stared, her breathing ragged, apparently faint in apprehension.

  “I’m naming her Erika,” he breathed.

  She collapsed to the pillows, covering her face with her hands. Something that might have been a laugh or a sob fled her shaking form.

  “Will you look at her, Kambry?” Darren prayed Kambry would agree to be the mother Marquita would not. If she refused, it would be much more difficult to claim the child as his own. A wife could make such a thing socially and practically pr
oblematic. And Kambry would be his wife.

  Her hands retreated, and she straightened. “What happened?”

  “She wants no part of mothering my daughter. Not nursing. Not...not even holding Erika. She called my babe ‘it,’ as if...”

  “I don’t doubt it,” Kambry bit out. “To Marquita, Erika is a failure and nothing more. She doesn’t see the innocent child...her child.”

  Darren tried to dissect what she was saying. He prayed the stress that Erika was Marquita’s child didn’t mean she was refusing.

  As if the conversation disturbed her, Erika started to fuss. Kambry waved him over, taking Erika from Darren’s hands as soon as he’d reached the bedside. He breathed a sigh of relief at her performing a search for something that would cause the babe’s unease; Kambry hadn’t agreed, but she hadn’t dismissed Erika, either.

  She tickled the babe’s cheek, grimacing as Erika rooted and latched onto a finger. “She needs to eat, Darren. We should—”

  “The bottle and nappy will be here soon,” he assured her. Where was the maid? The bottle and nappy should have been her first stop. Did it take so long to warm the milk?

  She nodded, rocking Erika, murmuring assurances that the babe couldn’t possibly understand.

  “I’d like to keep her,” he admitted. “I need your agreement to make that possible. Will you give it?”

  Kambry didn’t hesitate. “We must.”

  We. Not “you must.” We.

  It took a moment for the hard edge to that statement to sink in. It had been more an order than an acceptance. There was anger in her tone that unbalanced him. It wasn’t like Kambry to be angry. Hurt? Yes, but not angry.

  “Kambry?”

  She closed her eyes, stroking Erika’s back. “Do you know what Marquita and my mother will do with her, if you turn Marquita out?”

  He sank to the bed beside her, his stomach rebelling, abruptly glad he hadn’t imbibed. “She’d be a servant like Amber was, I suppose.” The idea of his daughter serving that harpy and the harpy’s mother—