by Connie Mason
Julian’s attention sharpened. “Are you telling me my wife has gone somewhere?”
“Damn,” Stanhope said, shoving his fingers through his hair. “I told Lara to speak to you first. I knew you weren’t going to like it. But you know how stubborn Lara can be.”
“Indeed,” Julian said dryly, remembering how long she’d kept him waiting before consenting to marry him. “What exactly am I not going to like?”
“Lara left early today.”
Confusion marched across Julian’s face. “Left? Lara left without consulting me? Where has she gone?”
“I’m not at liberty to say.”
“I beg your pardon?” Julian bit out. “I believe I’m Lara’s husband. I have a right to know where she’s harried off to in the middle of winter.”
“I’m sorry, Mansfield, but I promised Lara I wouldn’t disclose her destination.”
A muscle flexed in Julian’s jaw. “Never mind, I already have a good idea where to find her. Did she leave a message for me?”
Stanhope shifted uncomfortably. “Aye, as a matter of fact, she did. She said you should seek a divorce if that is your wish.”
“She knows bloody well that’s not what I want! Apparently she’s not thinking straight. Being kidnapped, dragged cross country, then incarcerated in an abandoned warehouse must have unsettled her more than any of us knew. Obviously she’s not herself.”
“I tried to stop her but she wouldn’t listen,” Stanhope lamented. “I believe she is testing you.”
“Exactly,” Julian agreed. “Stubborn wench. I’m ashamed to admit, Stanhope, that I put Lara through hell, but I felt we had finally come to terms with our feelings for one another.”
“What, precisely, are your feelings for my daughter?”
“I thought I’d already made that clear. Nevertheless, I’ll say it again, and keep saying it until both you and Lara believe me. I love your daughter, Stanhope.”
“Lara believes you will never love her like you loved your dead fiancée.”
“At one time I might have given her reason to believe that was so, but loving Lara has changed my way of thinking about Diana. Believe me when I say I’ve never loved another woman like I love Lara.”
“You don’t have to convince me, Mansfield, ’Tis Lara you need to persuade.”
“I will, as soon as I can get out of this bed.”
* * *
Lara reached the Gypsy camp without mishap. She was enthusiastically welcomed and immediately whisked into her grandparents’ wagon. She sipped hot tea and basked in the glow of their love despite her uncertainty over her rash decision to leave London.
Was Julian angry at her? Angry enough to get the divorce she’d recommended? She sighed wearily. Time would tell. Meanwhile, she would sit back, enjoy her pregnancy, and try not to think about Julian and his response to her leaving.
“Why are you here alone?” Ramona asked. “Where is Drago?”
“You may use Julian’s name now,” Lara said. “It’s over and done with. The man who wanted him dead can no longer hurt him.”
Ramona stared deep into Lara’s eyes, as if seeking answers to her questions. “What are you not telling me, Granddaughter?”
“ ’Tis a long story, Grandmother, and I want both you and Grandfather to know what happened because it involves Rondo.”
“Rondo!” Ramona and Pietro said in unison.
Pietro frowned. “Rondo has been banished for his misdeeds.”
“I’m sure he’ll be reinstated once everyone knows that he saved both my life and Julian’s.”
“Start at the beginning,” Ramona urged. “I looked into my crystal ball and knew that danger stalked you. Did it find you in Scotland?”
“Aye. I was kidnapped and brought to London shortly after Julian and I were married by a preacher in Scotland.”
Immediately Lara launched into a telling of the circumstances of her imprisonment and the outcome, leaving out nothing. In a hollow voice she repeated those confusing words spoken by Julian in the warehouse.
“Rondo has redeemed himself,” Pietro declared. “He will be welcomed back when he returns. Let us hope he has learned a lesson from all this.”
“What of your husband, little one? What do you intend to do?” Ramona asked.
Lara’s gaze dropped to her hands, where they fidgeted nervously with the folds of her skirt. “If he loves me, he will come for me.”
“Has he not proven that he loves you? Why are you punishing him?”
“I told you what he said. He’ll never love me in the same way he loved Diana.”
Ramona’s wrinkled brow furrowed as she silently contemplated Lara.
After a lengthy pause, Ramona said, “Pietro, perhaps you should make sure Lara’s coachman and outriders are fed and then sent on their way.”
Taking the hint, Pietro rose immediately. “Aye, never let it be said Pietro’s hospitality is lacking.”
“My instincts tell me you are wrong about His Lordship,” Ramona said quietly. “He loves you every bit as much as you love him.”
“But Grandmother, I heard him say—”
“You heard what you wanted to hear, little one. You should have given your husband the opportunity to explain.”
“Don’t scold, Grandmother. Leaving Julian is the only way I can be absolutely certain he loves me for myself and not because he felt honor-bound to protect me. I need to know that he still wants me after the Jackal has been apprehended and Diana’s death avenged.”
“It may be a long time before he’s able to leave his sickbed,” Ramona reminded her.
“I know. Meanwhile, I’m where I want to be. I love Papa, but my real home has always been right here with you and Pietro and the others.”
Ramona’s probing gaze dropped to Lara’s flat stomach. “When is your child due?”
Lara blanched. “How did you know?”
“I know many things,” Ramona said cryptically. “Does His Lordship know?”
Lara hesitated a long moment. “No, he doesn’t know. The babe won’t be born until summer.”
Ramona made a censorious sound deep in her throat. “The child is your husband’s heir. You should have told him.”
Lara sighed. She’d known this wasn’t going to be easy. “I will. When he comes for me … if he comes for me,” she quickly amended. “If you’ll excuse me, I’d like to go to my wagon now, I’m exhausted.”
“Go, little one. God and fate will determine your future.”
Someone had lit the brazier in Lara’s wagon, and she soaked up the warmth and sense of belonging like a needy sponge. Whatever happened, she cherished this time alone to come to grips with the knowledge that Julian might decide she wasn’t worth the trouble and obtain a divorce as she’d suggested.
Lara felt little hunger when Ramona arrived with a bowl of savory stew and fresh bread but she ate anyway, just to please her grandmother. It began to snow that night. Lara crawled into bed, missing Julian dreadfully. It had been so long since he had made love to her … so very long. Would she ever feel his arms around her again? Would she ever feel the erotic power of his kisses or experience the glory of his lovemaking?
Pray God she would.
Julian cursed his weakness. He complained so arduously about the meager meals he’d been forced to endure that finally more substantial fare was provided. A man trying to regain his strength needed more than pap and liquids.
Julian had graduated from sitting up in bed to being held upright by the forthright Jeevers as he took his first tentative steps. Each day he pushed a little harder, until he was able to walk without help. A week after Lara left, Julian announced himself ready to ride to Kent to retrieve his wayward bride, return her to London, and introduce her to the ton as his countess.
His will proved stronger than his body. The first time he attempted to ride, his wound reopened and the doctor forbid him to mount a horse for at least three more weeks. It was a setback, but nothing Julian couldn’t surmount. Unf
ortunately patience was something Julian lacked in abundance.
Then it started to snow. Seriously snow. The roads leading out of London were closed and traffic came to a standstill, prolonging Julian’s departure. He was thankful he had been able to return to his own home before the snow began. Rondo had come with him.
Julian missed Lara. Missed her dreadfully. It seemed like forever since he’d held her lithe body in his arms, kissed her lush lips, felt her come apart when he made love to her. What had been in her mind when she’d left? he wondered. What had he said or done to send her fleeing back to her grandparents? He delved deeply into his brain and came up empty.
He knew he’d been a fool in more ways than one where Lara was concerned, but he’d hoped that was behind them. Didn’t she know how much he loved her? Didn’t she realize she was the only woman to penetrate the shield protecting his heart? He’d tried to tell her that he’d finally laid Diana to rest but feared he hadn’t gotten through to her. He was prepared to tell her again and again, as often as needed, until she finally believed him.
During Julian’s convalescence, Lord Randall came to call. He’d told Julian in no uncertain terms that his usefulness as a government agent had come to an end. Scorpion’s identity was known to too many. Julian didn’t regret retiring Scorpion. He’d lived on the edge of danger too long. What he wanted now was to sit back and enjoy a peaceful existence with his wife.
Lara spent much of the following weeks inside her wagon, cooking her own meals over her brazier and enjoying Ramona and Pietro’s company. The blustery weather kept the small band of Gypsies from enjoying outside activities together, which suited Lara’s dark mood.
Two weeks. Three weeks. Four weeks. Time passed slowly. Despair settled on her like a shroud. Ramona impressed upon her that travel was nearly impossible under such adverse conditions, and that Julian might not yet have recovered fully from his wounds. But Lara knew that had Julian wanted to find her, nothing would stop him. Surely he knew there was only one place she would go, so locating her shouldn’t be a problem. Had he washed his hands of her? Had she gone too far this time?
Julian paced his study while Rondo lounged in a chair, watching him. “Sit down, Drago,” Rondo said, using his Gypsy name from force of habit. “You’re exhausting me. Pacing won’t change the weather.”
“I know pacing won’t help, but it makes me feel better. I worry about Lara. She didn’t look well the last time I saw her. I fear her recent ordeal was too much for her and she’s not thinking straight. ’Tis the only explanation I can give for her sudden departure.”
Unless she doesn’t love me and never has, he silently lamented. But he wouldn’t let himself think like that. That was something she’d have to tell him in person.
“Are you ready to ride, Rondo?” Julian asked suddenly. “If not, you can remain behind until the weather improves.”
“I’m not quite as anxious as you to take off in the middle of winter,” Rondo replied. “Your home is comfortable, Julian. I’d like to continue my convalescence here, if you have no objections.”
“Of course, if that is your wish. I’ll instruct Farthingale to see that your stay is made comfortable. I plan to leave at first light.”
Julian strode from the study, his face set in determined lines. Bad weather or no, wound or no, he was going to find Lara and learn for himself what in bloody hell was going on with her. Then he’d wring her pretty neck. Or make love to her until she promised never to leave him again.
Julian headed out at first light. A fine snow was falling and the temperature had plummeted during the night. But that didn’t stop him. The sooner he reached Lara, the quicker he could talk some sense into her.
Chapter 20
Four weeks had passed since Lara left her father’s house in London, and she began to fear that Julian had indeed filed for divorce. It was a bitter blow, one from which she’d probably never recover. But she had only herself to blame. She could have remained in London and lived with Julian in a loveless marriage, for she knew he’d never suggest that their marriage be dissolved. Julian was too honorable a man. But that didn’t mean he had to love her. And existing in a marriage without Julian’s love wasn’t an option.
No one forced love. It sneaked up when one least expected.
Suddenly another thought occurred to Lara. What if Julian’s wound hadn’t healed? What if something unforeseen had happened, like infection, or something equally as debilitating? Surely her father would have sent word if Julian wasn’t recovering as expected, wouldn’t he? But given the state of the roads these past weeks, Lara wasn’t sure a messenger could get through, much less find their camp.
Her face set in determined lines, Lara decided she couldn’t go on another day without knowing what had happened to Julian. She wanted him to come to her, but she wasn’t too proud to go to him. Especially if he needed her.
Her mind made up, Lara found a wrap and stepped outside into the frigid air. Trudging through two inches of new snow, she made her way to her grandparents’ wagon. Her knock was answered immediately.
“Lara, what are you doing out so late?” Ramona asked. “Are you ill? Come inside and warm yourself.”
Lara walked over to the glowing brazier and held out her hands.
“Sit, little one,” Pietro urged. “Something is bothering you. Do you wish to tell us about it?”
“I’ve been a fool, Grandfather,” Lara lamented. “I left Julian without positive proof that he was going to recover. Oh, he seemed well when I left, and all signs pointed to a quick recovery, but sometimes signs can be deceiving. What if he had a relapse? What if my leaving hindered his recovery?”
Ramona and Pietro exchanged speaking glances. Then Ramona said, “Julian will recover, little one. I have seen this. But it appears that you have come to a decision about your marriage. You wish to return to London, do you not?”
“You always know what I’m thinking, Grandmother,” Lara said fondly. “Aye, I’m going to return to London, but I need your help getting there.”
“I will take you myself,” Pietro said. “As soon as the weather permits.”
“I cannot wait that long,” Lara protested. “The weather is better than it has been in recent weeks so I see no reason to delay. I wish to leave tomorrow morning.”
“You are carrying a child,” Pietro reminded her.
“I am strong and healthy. A short trip will cause me no harm.”
Pietro looked at Ramona for direction.
Ramona stared into the glowing brazier for several long minutes, her eyes closed, her body still. Suddenly she opened her eyes and smiled.
“You will leave tomorrow, just as you wish, little one. Pietro will escort you and all will be well.”
“Are you sure?” Pietro asked, obviously not convinced.
“Did I not say so?” Ramona chided gently.
Pietro stared at her a moment, then nodded his compliance.
“Dress warmly, granddaughter,” Pietro admonished. “We will leave at first light.”
Lara kissed both her grandparents soundly. “Thank you! Thank you!” she gushed. “I will be ready to leave in the morning when you are, Grandfather.”
“Get a good night’s sleep,” Pietro advised.
Lara hurried through the biting wind to her wagon, happier than she’d been in a long time. At least she was doing something positive instead of sitting in her wagon waiting and wondering.
Lara undressed, donned her nightdress, and climbed into bed. She was no longer ill in the mornings and had actually begun to enjoy her food. Her stomach was still flat, but she imagined she could feel her babe beneath her heart, his or her little heart beating in time to her own.
With that pleasant thought, she closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep.
* * *
The weather showed little improvement the next day, but Lara wasn’t about to let snow or cutting wind stop her. She dressed warmly in woolen petticoat, thick stockings, and boots, pulling her heavies
t dress and a fur-lined cloak on last. When Pietro arrived leading two horses, she was ready.
Lara mounted with Pietro’s help. Then Ramona came hurrying up with a sack of food, which Pietro stuffed into his saddlebags.
“If the weather holds, we’ll reach London before nightfall,” Pietro predicted as he bid Ramona farewell. “Don’t look for my return until our granddaughter has been safely delivered to her husband.”
“Thank you, Grandmother, for everything you’ve done for me,” Lara said. “Perhaps we can visit before you leave for Scotland.”
“Go with God,” Ramona said, waving them off.
The first part of the day passed uneventfully. Then, after they had stopped to rest the horses and share the lunch Ramona had prepared, the skies lowered and snow began to fall at an alarming rate.
“We’ll have to seek shelter soon,” Pietro said, gazing at the threatening sky. “We will never reach London before nightfall in this weather, and riding in darkness, on dangerous roads, is too risky. I won’t jeopardize your health, little one.”
Though Lara wished it otherwise, she knew her grandfather spoke the truth. “What do you propose?”
“There is an inn not too far from here. We’ll stop there for the night.”
Lara remembered the inn well. She and Julian had stayed at the Three Feathers after he spirited her away from London. In fact, she had fond memories of their stay there.
Lara was cold, hungry and exhausted by the time they reached the Three Feathers Inn. Drifting snow had almost obliterated the road, and the lights from the inn were barely visible through the dense, white haze. They turned into the yard and Pietro helped Lara to dismount.
“Wait inside for me while I find someone to tend our horses,” Pietro said.
Lara didn’t need to be told twice. She’d thought the trip to London would be easy, but being pregnant had taken its toll. She was grateful to her grandfather for stopping, for had it been left to her, she probably would have fallen from the saddle before suggesting that they stop short of London.
Lara warmed herself by the fire in the nearly empty common room. Obviously few travelers were brave enough to venture out on a night like this. Pietro arrived shortly afterward, and Lara heard him making arrangements for their accommodations.
