by Thea Devine
Why had she ever thought this would be simple? She didn't need Lujan's disturbing presence hampering her.
Not for long. He'd stay a night, get bored, and leave. Forget about him. He was of no consequence.
No? No! He would never get to her again, never humiliate her again, and certainly the news of his coming would not deter her from her search with what little time she had left this afternoon.
But where? She started walking down the hallway, toward the opposite side of the house and the attic stairwell, with Emily pacing just behind her.
Oww.
"I know," Jancie murmured. And she did—for some reason, this side of the house felt spooky, but there was nothing untoward anywhere. But somehow it seemed darker, colder, more mysterious.
Perhaps it was that the attic entrance was on this side of the house. And the chest under the window. Not a likely spot to conceal any secrets, really, because everyone had access to it.
Nevertheless, she couldn't discount the chest, and so she walked down the hallway, looking over her shoulder every step of the way, and with Emily trailing reluctantly behind her.
M'row. Emily, so soft, sounding so far away.
She stopped in front of the chest and turned to reassure her, but Emily was gone. She was all alone on the floor, all alone in the house for all she knew, with shadows all around her, and the feeling that eyes were watching, watching, judging . . .
Across the hallway . . . around some corner, hidden from sight.
Satisfaction / 169
She took a deep breath and bent to the chest, a wooden chest, as wide as a window, plain but incised with a pattern of lines and circles all over the sides.
She ran her fingers across the top, let out her breath, and wondered what she'd find—and did she want to find anything?
What would someone hide in a chest that was in such a public place?
The answer was nothing. She had to look. But she expected to find nothing.
She grasped the top and lifted it.
Heavy. And dark inside, with an overpowering musty odor seeping up into her face.
It was empty. She had had such hopes, given Emily's reaction.
But the chest was empty. Her disappointment was acute.
She stood staring inside it for a long, anguished moment deepened by the still matte silence.
And then she heard a crickly, rolling sound behind her, as if a ghost were tossing dice. Someone was there.
She froze, she let down the chest top very, very slowly with icy hands, and she girded herself to turn around as she heard the sound again.
Emily, at the far end of the hallway, pouncing on something, batting it with her paws, and chasing it down the steps.
******************
Where the hell was Hugo? Nowhere in the town house, and Lujan felt a great frustration that everything seemed to be spinning out of control.
His father on the loose in London, for God's sake, dishonoring Olivia's memory by making a fool of himself.
And him, disdaining the enticements of the most experienced whores in the country, and lusting after . . . don't say it—don't think it, . .
Jesus, what was happening to him?
He leaned over the upstairs railing. "March!!!!!!"
March appeared below, silent as a wraith. "Sir. Everything is in the carriage."
Of course it was. March was just that kind of servitor. A good man to have around. Discreet to the bone, knowing exactly what a man needed and when.
170 / Tbea Devine
And the carriage was already waiting. He could be on the road imminently. On his way to—
No. That wasn't his purpose. He just needed some fresh country air.
Where the hell was Hugo? Hell, it didn't matter. Dispense with Hugo. Let him wallow in the cheap fleshpots of London. Let him choke on his spunk .. .
"All is at the ready, sir." March again, unobtrusive but answering the very question you were going to ask before you even framed it in your mind.
"I'll be downstairs in a moment."
"Very good, sir."
He was forgetting something—what?
He took stock of his disheveled room. God, did he even have clothes to take with him? No matter—there were closets full of clothes at Waybury.
Wait, there was something else—right... a trinket for the— vessel. Get that on the way. A little bauble. She liked the diamond he had given as his wedding present, but perhaps it might be better not to make it so obvious since both their lives had been steeped in them.
Why remind her of what she hadn't had, after all?
Hold on—was he considering the feelings of the vessel? She should be grateful for anything. Whatever struck him—he'd have the coachman take him to Bond Street for a quick, discreet purchase before they got on the turnpike.
Good. That was taken care of. He was lucid—he remembered. Everything. And his achiness was subsiding, wrhich meant he would be ready for a good plow and tunnel when he got to Waybury. Also good.
Suddenly, he couldn't wait to be on his way.
He raced toward the stairwell, found his body stuttering, and pitched forward, head first, and tumbled down the steps.
******************
Jancie took after Emily, racing across the hallway and barreling down the stairs.
No Emily. Emily had disappeared, but she could still hear the faint crickly sound as if Emily were playing tag with the object she'd found.
Satisfaction/ 171
Which was probably a little pebble that had come from either Kyger's or Lujan's boots. Nothing mysterious. She didn't need to be chasing Emily like this over a random piece of rock she'd found in a bedroom.
Or was she running from something?
From the dissolution of her father's dreams now. From her own fallibility. From the inevitable reunion when Lujan returned.
She darted into the library and sank into one of the cushiony leather chairs. This room was usually a refuge for her, but right now it felt like a room in a haunted house—eerie and empty, and as if something awful were about to happen.
It was that chest—she could still smell that musty and empty scent—and this house, ghost-ridden and empty—empty of any heart, soul, or love.
She felt this way because Lujan was coming back, and with his return came all his mandated expectations: she would turn into his receptacle for as long as she kept her mouth shut and spread her legs. For as long as that much about her interested him—for about as long as a minute, she thought mordantly, and that felt oppressive as well.
Maybe it was all over for her here. Maybe it had been a fool's quest to begin with. She had given up more than her father would ever know in pursuit of justice for him.
And the best she could do was nothing,
Ow.
Emily was at the door, but whatever she had been chasing was nowhere in evidence. Don't give up.
"I'm tired," Jancie said to her. "Lujan will be here soon."
Oooww. That will be as it is.
As Jancie perfectly well knew. But why? Why did it have to be that way when he had pursued her so ardently, as if he really meant it, all the last year?
Not even Emily had the answer to that
But Emily was staring at her intently, as if she knew something.
"What?"
Owwwy Emily said in answer, and Jancie rose up gracefully, and walked away.
Kyger found her there an hour or so later, staring at the door.
172 / Thea Devine
She looked up as she heard his step. "Lujan will he here soon," she said flatly.
"Excellent. Then I have leave to go."
"Don't."
"My dear Jancie, I'll tell you what—I'll sneak out in the dead of night, and Lujan will have no choice but to stay."
Jancie was silent.
"Do you want him to stay?"
"He'll always leave. You know that better than I," Jancie said heavily.
"So why do we let him?"
&nb
sp; "I have no power over what Lujan does."
"Maybe you do. He's coming back after only a week. Normally, he'd sink into sin for months on end."
That only precipitated a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, hearing Kyger verify that it took nothing for him to just go off and sink himself into any lush body that enticed him.
Which was probably what he had been doing the past five days. Just left her and plunged into some anonymous body in some anonymous place that men went to do those things.
No power here. The exact opposite.
She wouldn't be at Waybury House much longer—no one, not even a dirty girl, should tolerate such behavior.
Especially from a husband.
Husband. It sat strange in her mind, in her mouth. It didn't register. Lujan was a cipher, a law unto himself, and she could sooner tame a tiger than make a dutiful husband out of him.
What bad she thought, all last year when he was teasing and tempting her?
"So reassuring he got bored after only a week," she murmured, in answer to Kyger's comment.
"You had a choice," Kyger said ruthlessly. "You live with the consequences."
"Or not," Jancie whispered, the first time she had let that alien thought even cross her mind. She didn't have to stay, she thought suddenly. She'd done all she could for her father, and there was nothing she could do for Lujan. And she certainly hadn't envisioned a life where she would be immured in the country, waiting for him to notice her.
Satisfaction / 173
She'd rather be in India, she thought, alone in the heat, with a life that was her own. How much had she given away, between her father's expectations and Lujan's utter disregard?
Why had he married her?
"Ah, Jancie .. ."
"You know," Jancie said tiredly, "I might not be of Lujan's social status, I might still be a dirty girl, a kitchen girl, but I'm not a stupid girl. No one, least of all you and Hugo, should countenance what Lujan does. Nor should any wife stand for it. T won't stand for it. I'll leave."
"Haven't you grown up," Kyger said. "What happened to love, honor, and obey—or is it love, honor, and run away?"
"Exactly what you want to do, isn't it?" Jancie shot back. "There's something about this house and this family. No one wants to stay. You all take turns coming and going."
He couldn't much argue with that, although Hugo's defection so soon after Olivia's death had been wholly unexpected.
"And coming," he murmured. "Jancie—" He leaned toward her; she looked too vulnerable, sitting there sapped of her usual energy and liveliness. He wanted to take her in his arms and comfort her. He still wanted her, wanted her never to have married Lujan, could have told her the worst about Lujan, and didn't.
And now he was calling her into account for her decision, when he could have loved her so much better, so much stronger. So much more.
Could still love her and enfold her if only she would let him.
"(ancie—" he said again—it was a whisper, really, a breath of longing at a moment when this was the least thing she needed: another complication, a different kind of love.
But she was the reason he stayed, she was the reason he maintained the legacy that would never be his. He couldn't leave her— he wouldn't, and as hard as he'd tried to sever himself from Waybury, he couldn't walk away from her.
She looked up at him, her eyes blurry with unshed tears.
That was the worst—Jancie, so strong, so positive, so giving, reduced to tears by the thought of Lujan's return and what he had been doing in the interim.
He shouldn't have said a word. Sometimes a wife was better off not knowing. And if he'd been smart, he would have posi-
174 / Thea Devine
tioned himself to console her as things got worse and they became closer.
As it was, this might be the only time he could ever allow himself to get close to Jancie. Just lean into her, put out his hand, touch her to tell her he knew what she was going through, he knew better than anyone what Lujan was like—
—Tilt her face up to his—one tear, and he'd kiss her, he would . . .
It spilled, and he slanted his mouth over hers and touched her lips. Soft, a sigh—he pulled away just as—
"So predictable," a supercilious voice said behind him. Lujan. Of course—how could it not be that he would walk in on them like this?
Kyger moved away from Jancie to protect her and confront Lujan directly.
But he was acting so typically the way Lujan would act, sloughing it all off with sarcasm and disdain.
"So declasse,I' he was saying, as he paced around both of them as if they were chained together. Or was he limping? "It's a French farce, is what it is. A man can't even trust his own brother. Or his wife. Or even his own father, who is nowhere to be found."
Kyger edged away from him to get a better look. Not that he noticed; he was too busy making his displeasure known.
"Well, what else can one expect? A man can't leave home and rest assured that all will be as it was on his return."
Definitely a limp, Kyger thought. And his face looked a little strained, his body a little wobbly.
But that didn't stop the venom. Lujan ignored him and turned to Jancie. "Well, my lovely darling, tell me everything that's happened between you and my brother. Tell me all the details. I'm sure there's a book full. I do like a good cuckold story. What a nice welcome home."
And then his legs gave out and he sank to the floor.
Chapter Twelve
"You son of a bitch." Lujan, groggy, lay on the floor with a cold compress on his head provided by the quick-thinking Mrs. Ancrum, who had also taken the liberty of chafing his hands.
"Bastard," Kyger retorted, but without rancor. "Finally brought down to your proper place, brother mine. You look good on your back, and helpless. What the hell happened?"
"Accident in Town. Thought it was nothing." Lujan struggled to a sitting position. "It is nothing. A stupid, unfortunate topple down the staircase just before we left.. . nothing to fuss about. I'm fine. Ready to kill you, as a matter of fact."
"As if you really care. You can go to hell, big brother, because things are this short of happening. You're damned lucky you came back today. Another twenty-four hours and I would have swept Jancie up and taken her to London with me because you're such a shit."
"It's MY wife."
"SHE'S your wife, you ass. And don't think it isn't possible I could still steal her away from you."
"You rate your charms too highly, dear brother." Lujan made it to his feet and sank onto the leather sofa, rubbing his head. "Jesus. Where is she, anyway?"
176 / Tbea Devine
"She and March went for the doctor."
"Don't need it. Don't want it. Want wife—" He stopped himself before he said the nasty thing, stopped before he let himself feel again the foaming anger at seeing Kyger's mouth slanted across Jancie's.
His wife ... shit... wives weren't supposed to cuckold a man. Wives were supposed to . . .
"And how many whores did you fuck this week?" Kyger murmured, his voice laced with censure.
"That's my business." Didn't admit to one's brother what a failure that was in the wake of the wedding night. "You should try it, baby brother, since there's nothing else in your life but my wife. In fact, it would be perfect if you'd just leave now."
"Finally—" Kyger breathed, "finally, the reprieve—I'm released from prison. I'd go this minute if I thought you'd treat Jancie the way a man is supposed to treat his wife. But no ... you are the bastard of the earth, you can't be trusted not to get drunk or debauched, and I'm staying right here so I can rescue her when she comes to her senses."
"I will render her senseless with desire for ME," Eujan said grittily. "I don't need a doctor. I need my wife here—now."
"Such emphasis, dear brother. Such unusual urgency. Those whores must have sucked every dime and every desire out of you, and given no value for the money."
"Bullhead whores, too," Lujan s
aid a little peevishly. "Shouldn't have gone."
"I'm astonished to hear you say it," Kyger murmured. This was too forthcoming, even for Lujan; he had never, ever admitted such a thing. His dissolute reputation depended on his giving and getting satisfaction. And here he was, naysaying the best courtesans in the best brothel in the whole of England, and insistently calling for Jancie.
Very odd. Too odd.
"Nothing like . . ." Lujan stopped himself again. He sounded like a babbling idiot; the tumble had taken more out of him than he'd thought, which hadn't been obvious on the journey home because he had slept a good part of the way.
Bingham appeared. "The doctor has arrived."
"Send him in."
Satisfaction/ 177
"Send him away. Where's Jancie?"
"She's coming," Kyger said.
Lujan leered at him as he levered himself up on his elbow. "Brother of mine, you can count on it."
******************
Now he was in his own bed, he felt much better; it required only Jancie's presence, naked, to complete his cure. Potions and possets were useless. He needed a good, hot, creamy burrow between his wife's legs—
His penis poled to life at the thought. Exactly. All this nonsense about a perfectly ludicrous accident. . . medicine for headaches and binding his ribs just in case—just in case what? His body fell apart? That wouldn't keep him from fucking. Not when the sole reason he'd come back was to embed himself in his wife's enfolding heat.
He was supposed to be resting, but he was, deep in his mind, deep in her luscious body. The anticipation was exhilarating, painful almost, but in an arousing way, because he was acutely aware of his erection, his thickness, his length, the incremental hardening, the burgeoning excitement in the pit of his stomach— all in a way he had not been conscious of before.
A week seemed like a year, suddenly. And his week away seemed as if it had never happened. Everything in him, head to foot, was focused and centered on the moment when she—his wife—would walk in the door, when he would remove her clothes, when he would penetrate HER.
Where was she?
