He’d lured her into marriage without knowledge of the full facts and that hardly made him any better than Frank, another selfish man acting in his own interests rather than hers. Honora might gain a home and family from their bargain, but how much would that matter to her when she discovered Christopher’s parentage?
Damn it. Damn it all to hell and myself along with it.
‘No. There can’t be a man alive who wouldn’t consider himself fortunate to have you at his side.’
She almost smiled, a tiny curve of full lips Isaac could have stared at all day. He had no right to think it, but he couldn’t help wondering if she’d allow him to kiss them whenever he pleased now she wore his ring, the once clear boundaries cursedly blurred. Were they a truly married couple now, or merely friends? And what would they be when Honora learned her new husband had concealed the sins of her first and that the baby she’d already come to care for was that first husband’s son?
It was a fine mess and no mistake, and as Isaac stood back to let Honora enter the house ahead of him he felt bile rise in his throat. Charlotte still lingered somewhere between living and death, every day repeating her wish for Christopher to pass to him and Honora to raise together. She’d become agitated more than once and only the news of their engagement had soothed her, the fight bleeding out of her feeble body and her pale cheek relaxing against her pillows once more. The chance of Charlotte recovering should have made his deception worthwhile, but he couldn’t shake his foreboding as he followed Honora inside and heard the door close firmly behind them.
It’s done now. You never wanted a wife, never intended to marry, but now you must work at being the best possible husband you can be. Honora deserves that much and more.
‘Ought we go up at once to see Charlotte? She’d want to know all about the ceremony. There’s nothing that cheers a young girl like a wedding.’
Honora unbuttoned her coat and Isaac watched her out of the corner of his eye. She wore the only light-coloured gown she’d brought with her from Somerset, a sprigged muslin that had clearly seen better days, but a vast improvement on the sombre mourning she’d worn previously. As the wife of a lord she could have her pick of expensive gowns—not that he thought she’d considered that for a moment.
How many society ladies could one say that about? That their reason for marriage had nothing to do with the contents of their purse?
He became aware his new wife’s attention had strayed from him and followed the direction of her gaze, turning to look behind him at the grand holly-swathed staircase sweeping into the hall. Mrs Glenn was descending slowly, holding a tightly wrapped bundle carefully to her. Isaac could just see a little nose poking out among the swaddling as the wet nurse reached the ground floor and dropped a curtsy, a sweet-natured woman close to Honora’s age whose face invited confidence.
‘Good afternoon, Lord Lovell. I brought the young master down to give you and Lady Lovell his warmest congratulations.’
In spite of the unpleasant feelings currently swirling through his innards Isaac couldn’t help a dry laugh. ‘His warmest congratulations? Such manners for a child of only three days old.’ He nodded at Mrs Glenn, who stepped forward and held Christopher out for Honora to take. ‘There now. He can offer his good wishes in person.’
Honora took the baby from the wet nurse’s sturdy arms and cradled him gently against the bodice of her gown, moving the wrappings slightly aside to reveal his rosy cheeks. Little Christopher stared up at her, his eyes the brilliant unseeing blue of a newborn, but seeming to roam her features as if solemnly drinking her in. Honora gazed back, her face softening beneath that innocent scrutiny and glowing with such genuine tenderness Isaac felt his heart skip a beat. There was a suggestion of the Madonna and Child about the scene before him, two faces suffused with perfect contentment in each other’s company, and another flare of gratitude leapt within him. If the worst were to happen and Charlotte slipped away, there was no doubt Honora would raise the baby with love, her affection for Christopher’s mother and naturally maternal heart making any other outcome impossible—until she learned the truth.
What if she sees some trace of Frank in the child’s countenance? What if, as he grows older, some hint reaches her ear...?
Isaac felt a cold finger of guilt run the length of his spine. If Charlotte died, the truth would die with her, no one else able to reveal the name of her seducer, but that outcome far too high a price to pay for secrecy. He was caught now in a web of his own lies with no way out but to confess all and the net was closing around his neck to strangle him where he stood.
‘Is Miss Charlotte awake?’ Unaware of her husband’s tortured thoughts Honora spoke to the wet nurse, still holding Christopher in a warm embrace. She rocked him in a gentle rhythm that made it difficult for Isaac to look away, so oblivious to whose child she was holding a savage wave of shame rose up to soak him to the skin.
‘No, ma’am. Doctor Harcourt came to call and administered a particularly strong sleeping draught when he learned you’d gone to church to be married. He thought her excitement might be too much for her to bear—like as not she won’t wake fully until tomorrow morning, he said.’
‘Oh. That’s a pity.’ Honora’s voice was heavy with disappointment. ‘I’d hoped the news might cheer her. Still, I’m sure I can wait another day to see her smile. An early gift for her on Christmas Eve.’
Isaac nodded stiffly, hoping Honora wouldn’t notice the rigid set of his expression. Almost an entire day until he would have to stand before Charlotte and pretend he felt no regret for what he’d done, luring a good woman into a marriage based on the shifting sand of deceit. He could try to soothe his conscience as much as he wished, but that was the raw truth, and he had less than twenty-four hours to learn how to stop his face from betraying the turmoil in his heart.
* * *
Mrs Glenn was correct. Charlotte slept soundly for the rest of the day, not even stirring when Honora opened the bedroom door a crack and peered inside, hoping her friend might have awakened at last. For Isaac her continued unconsciousness was a relief, but one that lasted only until night fell, when he entered his own chamber to find his wife sitting alone in the vast expanse of his four-poster bed.
His mouth dried at once. It was a scene so startlingly similar to his most secret dreams that he stood for a moment in the doorway, fleetingly unable to force his limbs to move. Honora was clad in nothing but her demure nightgown, the most tantalising hint of her shape hidden under a scant coverlet. He’d seen her in such a state of undress on more than one occasion, it was true, but never before had she been waiting for him, in his bed and looking back at him by the light of a single candle with its shadow moving across her watchful face.
‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. I assumed, as we’re married now...’
She tailed off, shrugging one shoulder beneath the thin linen. In the dim light her eyes were darker than usual, guarded and more like those of the defensive woman he’d met that fateful night at Wycliff Lodge. They’d come so far together since then, some strange regard growing between them Isaac knew Honora felt, too, but as she waited for his reply she seemed almost unsure.
‘Yes. Naturally you should sleep in here with me. It wouldn’t be the first time we’d shared a room, would it?’
He meant to put her at ease, but all he succeeded in doing was to bring the memory of that night to the forefront of his mind, when he and Honora had drunk each other in with such unexpected passion that took them both by surprise. By the look that flickered over her face she must have recalled the same thing and she tactfully busied herself with arranging the covers as he undressed and slipped in beside her, only the subtle colouring of her cheeks suggesting she wasn’t quite as calm as she appeared. Isaac leaned over to extinguish the candle and then there they were, man and wife together in a great oak bed, cloaked in darkness that did nothing to dim the desire to reach out and touc
h that was so tangible between them it made the atmosphere of the room feel stretched dangerously taut.
Every nerve in Isaac’s body blazed as he lay unmoving, listening to Honora’s steady breaths at his side. She was so close he could feel the warmth of her creeping over the sheets and his fingers itched to cross the slim gap between them and make contact with her skin, doubtless smooth and heated and soft beyond imagining—not that he hadn’t tried. From the first moment Honora had melted into his arms he’d barely spent a night without attempting to guess how she would feel beneath his palms, willowy yet strong and a delight he longed to discover. The fervour with which she’d returned his kisses and even seemed to seek them had to mean something, give him some clue to the secret desires hidden behind her cool façade, but with a sudden, unwelcome icy shock of reality he knew he shouldn’t seek it.
He didn’t deserve her intimacy or trust and he had no right to enjoy the attentions of a beautiful wife when he held some part of himself back from her. Wouldn’t giving in to his yearning for Honora make him no better than Frank, taking from her so shamelessly while giving so little in return?
If you do this, you’ll be every bit as selfish as he was. She deserves to be loved completely—not with secrets and half-truths from a guilty heart.
The heart in question sank at the thought, but it couldn’t be denied. He’d be taking something he had no right to and would have to find a way to stem the craving that had begun to tighten its grip, the woman next to him so entirely oblivious to the power she wielded to make him forget his restraint...
‘This isn’t my first wedding night, you know. I can explain how to proceed if you’re not sure how to go about it.’
Honora’s quiet voice caressed his ear, a hint of amusement hidden somewhere in its depths, and despite his resolve Isaac felt himself stir. Surely only a granite statue could remain unmoved with that low murmur coming from so nearby, its owner’s intoxicating smile unseen yet clear in every word.
He took a breath and steeled himself against the disloyal workings of his body. The temptation to give in to his desires and pull Honora closer was like a siren’s call and he closed his eyes in an attempt to block it out. ‘I think I’ve a fair idea, thank you. I’m hardly a maiden either.’
‘No? Not a shy young damsel?’
Isaac felt the covers shift as Honora moved on to her side. Although the room was dark he could make out the shape of her face now mere inches from his own and his heart leapt helplessly from its former place in the pit of his stomach to rail against his waistcoat.
So close. She’s so close I could kiss her if I chose.
‘I can’t say I’ve ever been called one of those.’
‘I see. So it must be me that makes you pause.’
His nerves sang at the sensation of her breath on his skin, lighting the side of his neck as surely as if she’d run a fingertip across it. The tide of desire inside him rose up again to crash against the rocks of his determination to resist—Honora thought he didn’t want to draw her into an embrace and count every arching rib, smiling against her throat when he heard her sigh? She thought for a single, solitary second she was the reason he kept his distance?
He lay for a moment, feeling the tide of yearning return over and over again to beat at his defences. He ought to stand firm. He ought to keep his resolve, his respect for Honora the most important thing in the world and to be protected at any cost—but then she reached out a hand to trace his jaw and every sensible thought fell from his mind like rain from the sky, leaving behind nothing but hopeless want.
‘Have you decided you regret our marriage after all? You’ve realised you should never have taken me as your wife?’
There was no reply Isaac could make but to seize the hand that touched him and pull it upwards, drawing Honora towards him as though she weighed nothing at all. He settled her along the long, lean length of him and his own hand came up to tangle in the hair at the nape of her neck, warm curls that smelled of soap and honey and the unique, secret scent of the woman he adored. His other hand pressed her to him as his mouth found hers and it was as if a match was struck inside him, the flame blazing into life and scorching him from within.
‘Does this answer your question?’ Isaac heard the feral longing in his voice and a snatched breath was Honora’s only response, a short, shuddering thing gasped against his lips and making him tighten his hold. Perhaps he’d taken her by surprise with his bold advance, perhaps making her blush, or perhaps not, as the next moment she’d slid a palm over his chest and gripped his shoulder with a force he had to admire. Any notion he might have had of her prim modesty was flung away as her mouth moved over his and opened to accept his kiss, his blood heated past boiling point and scalding in his veins.
The hand that pinned her to him moved to explore the hidden landscape he’d dreamed of for so many nights, still covered by thin linen, but the promise of what lay beneath rendering him almost insensible. It was the most uncanny thing, some vague part of him had to acknowledge: he’d been with women before, many times, but never had he been driven so close to the brink by one still wearing her nightgown. Something in the shape of Honora and the heat that came from her skin tempted him, called his name and made him drunk with delirious desire for her touch, and touch him she did, her fingertips at his neck and his collarbone and then moving to linger at the top button of his nightshirt with delicious intent.
Slowly, so teasingly she must have known how it made him shiver, Honora twisted the first one loose and slipped her finger between the collar and his neck, stroking softly at skin that cried out for her caress. She pushed herself gently out of Isaac’s grip and ducked below his jaw, following the progress of her fingers with tiny kisses to his neck and throat that made his every muscle strain and coil, the desire to catch her up again so strong it was frightening. How was she doing this? he wondered with the only shard of consciousness not yet completely consumed by passion for the woman in his bed. It shouldn’t be possible for him to be unmanned so effortlessly—but Honora must have known some magic his other encounters had not, skilfully unfastening one button after the next with no shame or hesitation, moment by moment revealing more of his firm chest and growing closer to the point of no return...
Before Isaac knew what he was doing he had flattened Honora’s hand against his chest and held it there, preventing her from moving any further. His breath was racing and his heart pounding as if he’d run a mile, but the fog was lifting from his mind and a half-second later he was dismayed by how near he had come to making a terrible mistake.
Stop. Stop now. You know this isn’t right.
Honora stilled, the sound of her breathing as fast as his own, but uncertainty entering her voice that Isaac wished he could chase away. ‘Is something the matter? Is something wrong?’
He hardly knew how to answer her. Regret so sharp it cut him beneath his ribs rose up within him, the knowledge he’d almost strayed too far painfully real. Another few moments and he would have taken all Honora had to give, just as he would in the days before Charlotte’s fall had shown him the need to be a better man.
You almost lost control. You were almost as free with Honora’s feelings as Frank was—and that can never be allowed.
There came a soft sigh from his side, a low breath as if Honora had realised something a heartbeat too late. ‘Of course. I should have known.’
Confused, he felt Honora retract her fingers from his. It wasn’t the swift whip of rejection, however. Instead the movement was smooth and kind, and when she placed her hand back on top of his with such gentle care his confusion only grew.
‘It’s Charlotte, isn’t it? You’ve no desire to cement our marriage while she’s so unwell.’ She shook her head in the darkness, the sound of her hair moving on her pillow a tell-tale sign. ‘I’m sorry, Isaac. I should have realised your mind is too full to consider anything else.’
Unsee
n in the dim room Isaac’s face hardened. First Honora thought she was the reason for his distance and then she apologised when he took his chance? The injustice of the situation made him clench his jaw, the same jaw which only minutes earlier had been lucky enough to feel Honora’s lips, and lying there Isaac hated himself more than ever. Dishonest and untrustworthy, that was him, and entirely undeserving of the woman who pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek with quiet sympathy he hadn’t earned.
‘Try to sleep now. It’s been a long, strange day and I wager we’ll have much to tell Charlotte in the morning.’
He felt her settle beside him, the warmth of her flooding out to touch him. She was curled close enough that he could fit himself against her as he dreamed, although it was to be hours until Isaac’s whirling mind allowed him the mercy of sleep.
Chapter Eleven
‘What a lot of fuss. I’m sure nothing can be that bad.’
Honora settled Christopher carefully in the crook of her arm as she paced the holly-strewn parlour, rocking him in time with her unhurried steps. His face was crumpled with temper and his thin little voice was like that of a lamb, indignant and insistent on his demands being satisfied at once. Honora couldn’t help a smile at such rage contained in so small a body and she felt a rush of affection steal over her for the wailing creature in her arms.
If the worst happens and Charlotte slips away, I might have to be as a mother to this child. Loving him would come so naturally.
The smile slid from her face at once as cold fear rose in her stomach. Wouldn’t that be the most painfully bittersweet answer to the prayer she’d whispered more times than she could remember? The chance of a child to love—but at the cost of Charlotte’s life?
Nothing I desire could ever be worth that price. I would never trade that poor girl for any selfish wish of my own.
A Mistletoe Vow to Lord Lovell Page 16
