Goddess of the Hunt: A Novel

by Tessa Dare

  She sat up, grabbing the red silk dressing gown and pulling it on. “Jeremy, no. You can’t.”

  “I assure you, I can.” He must have left the gun outside. He put his hand to the door, but suddenly she was there, pulling on his sleeve.

  “He’s only a boy, Jeremy!” With a sharp yank on his arm, she wheeled him to face her. She repeated gently, “He’s only a boy.”

  Only a boy.

  The words ripped through him like a shot. Jeremy choked on a curse. Lucy reached for his other hand, but he recoiled from the touch. He couldn’t even look at her. “How—” His voice was a rusty creak. He swallowed and tried again. “How old?”

  “Twelve. Thirteen, perhaps.” Jeremy stared mutely at Lucy’s hand where it clutched his arm. Her grip softened. Her voice, as well. “I tried to explain to you earlier. His name is Albert. His father’s been transported for poaching. His mother is dead. He has a five-year-old sister to look after, and they’re hungry. I took him by surprise in the dark. He can’t be blamed for injuring me.”

  He shook her hand from his arm and turned away. He ran his hands through his hair, then slammed the table with his fists. An earthenware mug crashed to the floor. Behind him, Lucy gave a startled cry.

  Damn him. Another crash.

  Damn him. Damn him to hell. He pounded the words into the table again and again. He wasn’t even certain which “him” he meant. His father, himself—it didn’t matter. They were one and the same. Both destructive. Both damned.

  For twenty-one years, he’d feared this moment. For twenty-one years, he had known it would come. Jeremy had lived his life to distance himself from his father’s mistakes. That quiet, cold cruelty that made enemies of his tenants, a wretch of his wife, and a ghost of his eldest son.

  Even as a boy, Jeremy had tried to resist. He’d tried to cheat fate. If his father said “Turn left,” Jeremy went right. If his father urged, “Go faster,” Jeremy slowed down. None of it mattered in the end. He was right back in the same damned place, paying for all the same sins. The tenants despised him, even before he’d chased them all off with a gun. He was pushing his wife up against trees and driving her to despair.

  Then tonight … God. Tonight, he’d shot at a twelve-year-old boy.

  A bitter compulsion forced him toward the open door. He had to leave. He had to get far away from her, before he hurt her again.

  Lucy blocked his path. “Jeremy, this is madness! You can’t honestly mean to go hunt down a child.”

  He grit his teeth and flexed his hands at his sides. Of course he didn’t mean to go hunt down a child. He didn’t mean to hurt anyone, but he did all the same. He was his father’s son. He was cold and cruel and heartless, and it wasn’t safe for him to stand here and belabor the point. He had to leave, and he had to leave now.

  “Lucy, just get out of my way.” She planted her feet wide and crossed her arms defiantly. He clenched his jaw and glared at her. “Move. Now.”

  “Why are you behaving like this?” Lucy’s hands balled into fists. “Listen to yourself—scowling and making ridiculous threats. Why? Because your father treated his tenants that way?” She jabbed a finger into the center of his chest, poking at the raw, open wound that was his heart.

  “Don’t do this.” Jab.

  “You are not your father.” Jab.

  “You’re good and kind and generous.” Jab, jab, jab.

  “Jeremy,” she sighed. “For God’s sake, you can’t even bring yourself to shoot a blasted partridge. You wouldn’t hurt anyone. You’re just not that sort of man.” She flattened her hand against his chest, lightly stroking the linen of his shirt. Her voice softened as she met his gaze.

  “If you were, I wouldn’t love you.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  He stared at her in silence, his expression inscrutable. If it weren’t for his heartbeat pounding hard against her palm, Lucy might have mistaken him for stone.

  Or ice.

  “It’s freezing in here.” She kicked the door shut and leaned against it. If he planned on going anywhere, he’d have to get through her first.

  “You’re wrong,” he said. His voice vibrated through her palm, sending shivers up her arm to curl around her neck.

  “No, I’m not. It’s cold as Hades. Look.” She huffed a breath into the space between them. It swirled into frosty vapor.

  “You’re wrong about me.”

  “Oh. Well, I’m not wrong about that, either.”

  He shook his head. “Don’t make me out to be kind, or generous, or anything approaching good. Of all people, you should know better. In all my life, marrying you was the most selfish thing I’ve ever done. I told your brother, I told myself—I wanted to protect you. Take care of you.” His voice lowered as he closed the distance between them. “I lied.”

  His flinty gaze roamed over her face, her body. Hot breath tickled her ear as he leaned in close. “I wanted you. More than I’ve wanted anything in my entire life. I wanted you so much, I couldn’t see straight. Couldn’t sleep at night.”

  His voice shook, and Lucy trembled along with it. She sank against the door, borrowing its strength.

  “I knew you wanted to marry for love. But I wanted you, and I didn’t care. And tonight,” he whispered fiercely, running a finger down her throat. “I’ve wanted you like that ever since that afternoon in the orchard. I wanted to press you up against that tree and spread your legs and rut with you like an animal. So tonight I took you, and I hurt you, and I didn’t care.”

  His finger stroked down into the valley between her breasts. Lucy sucked in her breath. He pulled his hand away, made a fist, and slammed it against the door behind her. The force of the blow rattled her teeth.

  “So don’t make me out to be a good man. I’m an addle-brained brute, just like you said. I’ve hurt you inside and out, and don’t you dare love me.” He pounded the door again. “Don’t you dare.”

  He fixed her with a burning gaze. Lucy was grateful for the door behind her holding her up, because without it her knees would surely buckle. She couldn’t let him see. She couldn’t fall to pieces, because he needed her to be whole.

  “Oh, Jeremy. You know I can’t back down from a dare.” Forcing her lips into a half-smile, she reached up to smooth a lock of hair from his brow. He closed his eyes for a moment, and his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat. She longed to fall into him and press her lips against it, but she settled for cupping his cheek in her palm.

  “I love you, Jeremy. And the only way you could hurt me is to walk out that door and leave.”

  He straightened. His hand shot to hers where it cradled his cheek. “The only way I could hurt you?” He pulled her hand away and turned it over between them. Lucy looked down. Bruises covered the skin of her wrist. “Look,” he said gruffly, giving her arm a shake. “Look at how I’ve hurt you.”

  She looked up at him, eyebrows raised. “I’d imagine the back of your neck doesn’t look too pretty, either.” When his face didn’t soften, she said, “Jeremy, they’re just a few bruises. I’ve suffered far worse from falling out of a tree, much less being loved against one.”

  His pale blue eyes were chips of ice. Lucy shook her head slowly. “You’ve been trying to frighten me away with that glare for years now, Jeremy. It’s never going to work. You think I didn’t know that there was something beneath that cool surface? Of course I knew. I always have, in some way, or else I wouldn’t have been forever provoking you to get at it.”

  “No.” He shook his head. “Lucy, you don’t know—”

  “Yes, I do.” She placed her hand against his chest. “I know you. I know what’s in there, because it’s in me, too. There’s passion and loyalty and pride and desire and a hundred other things. And not all of it’s good, and none of it’s gentle. It’s fierce and wild and so intense that it scares you. You’re afraid to let anyone see.”

  Lucy fisted her hand around his shirt and pulled until he met her gaze. “Don’t let it scare you.” She swallowed. “I s
ee it. All of it. And it doesn’t scare me.”

  She slid her hand inside his shirt, splaying her fingers over his heart. “Inside here, there’s a warm, generous, loyal, compassionate man. His tenants are going to respect him. One day, our children will adore him.” His eyes softened, and he drew a sharp breath as if he would speak.

  “But not me,” she added.

  His face shut down. “Not you?”

  “No.” She shook her head and smiled. “I’m in love with the addle-brained brute.”

  She trailed her fingers over his bare chest, feeling hot sweat and hard muscle and a fierce, thumping heart. “You know, you’ve a very inflated opinion of your charm if you think you convinced me to marry you against my wishes. I wanted you, too. That day in the orchard. Earlier tonight. Every minute in between. I wanted to marry for love, and I did. I loved you the day I married you. I love you now.” Her voice quivered. “I will love you always, and …”

  “Lucy,” he groaned, pressing his thumb against her lips. “Stop. Just stop.”

  “Stop?” She brushed his hand away. What did he mean? Stop speaking? Stop loving him? Lucy didn’t intend to do either. “You stop,” she said, her voice suddenly bold. Using the solid strength of the door behind her, she pushed against his chest with both hands. He stumbled back a step.

  “Stop arguing with me.” She pushed him again, backing him up to the table. He sank his weight down on it, losing a good four inches of height in an instant. His legs sprawled wide, and Lucy stepped between them.

  She met those ice-blue eyes, now situated just a few inches above her own. “You want to hear that I need you?” He nodded—a bob of the head so slight, she doubted he did it consciously. “Jeremy, I do need you. I need you desperately, and that scares me. I don’t need your money, or your gifts, or even your protection. I need you. And right now, for the love of all that’s holy, I need you to stop interrupting. I need you to look me in the eye and hear me when I say I love you. And damn it, Jeremy—I need you to believe it.”

  He opened his mouth to speak. She clapped a hand over his lips and lowered her voice to a growl. “Stop. Interrupting.”

  He shut his eyes, sighing with resignation against her palm. Lucy withdrew her hand. She allowed her thumb to linger over the curve of his lower lip. “Look me in the eye,” she said softly.

  He did.

  With the full force of that Look burning into her, she whispered, “Hear me.” She put her hands on his shoulders, bracing him. “I love you, Jeremy.” His weight shifted under her, and she tightened her grip. “Believe it.”

  Then Lucy held his gaze, dug in her heels, and waited.

  Stop this, his eyes commanded, his stern brow creasing for emphasis. I forbid you to love me. Get away. Move. Now.

  She shook her head slightly. “You know that Look doesn’t work on me. I’m not going anywhere.”

  Blue bewilderment crept into his gaze. “Why?” His voice was rough, demanding. “Damn it, Lucy, why? I’ve given you no reason to love me.”

  “I don’t need a reason. But you’ve given me many. Because you want to make me happy and keep me safe. Because you know me in the dark. Because when I’m near you, every bit of me comes alive. Because I make you come alive, too. Because … just because.” She firmed her chin. “Because I do, and you can’t stop me.”

  Then his brow softened and his gaze turned pleading, and Lucy’s heart ached.

  “Don’t ask this,” he said, his voice a soft rasp. “I don’t know what to do with those words. I don’t remember the last time I heard them, if I ever did, and …”

  “And they scare you. I know.”

  He swallowed. “I’ll do anything for you, Lucy. I’ll give you whatever you wish. Let me take care of you. Let me buy you things. Ask me anything else, but don’t ask this.”

  “But this is all I want.” She dug her fingers into his shoulders. “This is all I need. And I’m scared, too, because I need it so much. I don’t need you to say it back, not now. But I need you to hear it, and believe it, and be strong enough to bear it.”

  She would never know how long they stood there, gazes locked. Moments. Minutes. Perhaps hours.

  But Lucy wouldn’t back down, and she wouldn’t release him. She held his shoulders and held his gaze. Until, at last, he drew in a slow breath and heaved a rough sigh. She felt his muscled shoulders roll under her hands, as though shrugging off a heavy weight. Strong hands reached out to encircle her waist. He closed his eyes briefly, then opened them again. And it was a fortunate thing that he held her waist tight, because her knees buckled the instant those brilliant blue eyes met hers.

  Now this … this was a Look. One even Lucy could not ignore. With all the force that his usual glare demanded distance, this Look reached into her heart and pulled, tugging her close.

  Then his jaw softened, and his lips parted, and his deep voice echoed what his gaze already said. Three little words that set Lucy’s heart pounding and her blood singing with joy.

  “Say it again.”

  “I love you, Jeremy.”

  He still felt it, that wince of doubt. The urge to push her away. She said it so simply. As though there was nothing easier, more natural in the world. The words themselves hung in the air, so tiny, so bare. Jeremy felt as though she’d thrust a frail, delicate, birdlike thing into his big, clumsy hands, charging him to keep it safe. And God forgive him, his first impulse was to shove it away. He would destroy it, surely. In his desperation, he would grasp it so tightly it would break into a thousand pieces—and his own heart would break along with it.

  But then she smiled at him, so sweetly. Her cheeks dimpled with that infectious, impish joy, and he knew he could never push her away. Not her, not her love. He would prove to her—and prove to himself—he could be strong enough. He would be the man she believed him to be. He could cradle that frail, delicate love in his hands and guard her heart as though it were his own.

  Because, in truth, they were one and the same.

  Jeremy gathered her to his chest, pulling her heart against his. But something came between them. A lumpy weight knocked against his chest.

  The necklace.

  He let go of her waist and reached into his breast pocket to draw out the chain of jewels. In the firelight, the rubies glowed like hot coals.

  “I know you don’t need this,” he said.

  She shook her head. “I don’t.”

  “But I want you to have it.” He brushed her hair from her neck. “May I?”

  She nodded slightly, lifting her hair to one side. He fastened the necklace around her neck, trailing his fingers along the delicate curve of her throat.

  “Well?” she whispered, rolling the jeweled chain under her fingertips. “How do they look?”

  “They look … jealous.”

  She laughed. It was the sweetest music he’d ever heard. “I didn’t know jewels could be jealous.”

  He nodded solemnly. “Oh, yes. They’re most certainly jealous. Jealous of you. And furious with me, for fastening them about a neck so beautiful. They feel like dull, misshapen rocks hanging there.”

  She laughed again. “Jeremy, please. I thought gentlemen bought ladies jewels so they could forgo the pretty phrases.”

  He grasped her waist again, pulling her close against him. “Pretty phrases be damned,” he whispered. “You’re beautiful, Lucy. And there’s no jewel or phrase pretty enough to do you justice.”

  And there were no gifts, no words extravagant enough to tell her how much he loved her. He would have to show her instead. Tonight. Tomorrow. Every day for the rest of his life. She felt so delicious, pressed up against him, and he was already longing to taste her. Pretty phrases be damned. He would put his lips to better use.

  Her own lips curved in a wicked smile, as though she read his thoughts. He gazed down at her, watching her smile spread slowly across her face and all the way up to her laughing green eyes. “Aren’t you going to kiss me now?”

  He lowered his lips al
most to hers, until there was nothing between them but breath. “Yes, I am going to kiss you now. I’m going to kiss you long, and slow, and deep. I’m going to kiss you all night long, and into tomorrow, and every last day that God gives me beside you.”

  He cupped her face in his hands, and her lips trembled under his. “I’m going to kiss you here,” he murmured above her mouth. He slid his lips over to her ear, letting his breath caress her earlobe. “And here,” he whispered, nuzzling into her hair. Angling her head back, he buried his face in the sweet curve of her neck. “And here.” He rubbed his rough jaw against the delicate skin of her throat, thrilling to her little gasp.

  Then he pulled away and looked down at her face. Until her eyes fluttered open in a sweep of dark lashes that he felt brush against every inch of his skin.

  “I am going to kiss you from the crown of your head, all the way down to the tips of your toes. And then I’m going to kiss my way back up your body and stop about halfway”—she shivered in his arms and he locked his thighs around her hips—“and I am going to kiss and kiss and kiss you until you are crying out my name.”

  “So,” he said, standing up. He lifted her into his arms in one swift motion. “If you—my wife, my heart, my love—have anything else to say, I suggest you say it now.” He carried her over to the fire, sinking down with her into the nest of furs and blankets. “Because for the next several minutes, I intend to keep your lips pleasantly occupied, and after that—after that, I promise you, you will forget.”

  She wrapped her arms around him, pulling him close. “Just one question,” she breathed, as his hand slid beneath silk to curve around her breast.

  “What would that be?”

  Her tongue flickered against his ear. “When do I get to kiss you?”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Several hours and countless kisses later, morning dawned, quiet and bright. Lucy rolled onto her elbow and smoothed the hair from her husband’s brow as he stared up at the ceiling.