by Laura Landon
“No!”
Simon spun to face her, knocking an oriental hand-painted vase from the mantel to the floor. It shattered at his feet. “Leave Rosalind out of this!” he said, the hostile glare in his eyes frightening. “Rosalind will not come between you and me.”
“She already has, Simon. She loves you.”
“Rosalind loves no one. She only wants what she cannot have.”
“And she wants you. I saw it the first time she looked at you.”
“She could have had me once, but she chose my father instead. Rosalind and I were engaged to be married until the memorable afternoon I caught her in bed with my father and the two of them were forced to do what was honorable and marry.”
Jessica clamped her hand over her mouth.
“Don’t look so shocked, Jesse. All of society has known about it since it happened. All but finding them in bed. Except for Collingsworth, I was thankfully spared an audience for that little scene. Society is content to think Rosalind simply preferred my father. That she didn’t want to wait to inherit the money and title. They prefer to think of me as the scorned lover.”
“And now Rosalind has chosen my stepbrother.”
Jessica knew her words would cause a response. She was not prepared for the magnitude of Simon’s reaction.
“Bloody hell, Jesse. I don’t give a tinker’s damn about Rosalind.” He paced the room, stopping only to glare at her and open his mouth as if to speak, then close it and pace some more. “But no matter what I say, you will not believe me, will you?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know what to believe. Your heart is so filled with hatred for my stepbrother, there’s no room for any other emotion to grow. You told me as much before we were married, but I thought perhaps in time…”
Every nerve and emotion in Jessica’s body was numb. She no longer felt anything other than the empty void left by Simon’s confession. Her knees buckled beneath her, and she sat on the edge of the bed with her hands clenched in her lap.
“I would like to know why you hate Tanhill so, Simon. What he did to you that caused you to sacrifice everything to destroy him. Did you know him here in London?”
Simon shook his head. “No. I barely knew your stepbrother before I left. I certainly didn’t know he had a stepsister.”
“Not many did,” she admitted.
“After Rosalind married my father, I struggled to keep everything afloat, but father and his new wife spent money faster than I could bring it in. The day came when I could take no more, so I bought a commission in Her Majesty’s Army and went to India.”
“Is that where you met him?”
Simon nodded. “I arrived in India the year before the uprising. I’d met Tanhill a few times informally, but didn’t have too much association with him.”
Simon raked his fingers through his hair, then paced the floor in front of her. He stopped to continue. “I was stationed at the outpost in Cawnpore. That’s where I met Sanjay. He and his mother and three sisters took care of the house the army provided for me. About a year after I arrived, all hell broke loose. The Indian uprising started in Meerut, and by June it had reached Cawnpore. The fighting was fierce and the atrocities horrendous on both sides. But none was worse than the innocent slaughter of women and children.”
Jessica watched Simon’s face pale and knew he had tried to bury all this with his past.
“For Tanhill, the massacre was an excuse to rid the world of as many of the heathen Indians as he could, and to satisfy his thirst to kill. Men, women, young, old, children…babies, he didn’t care.”
Jessica’s stomach recoiled in horror. Simon stood with his arm braced against the tall poster at the foot of the bed. The anguish on his face tore at her heart, and she wanted to put her arms around him to comfort him. She didn’t.
Instead, he faced her with a black determination she found staggering.
“Tanhill and his drunken band of miscreants went from house to house, raping and torturing and murdering in their quest to purge the world of the enemy. I came home just after they’d broken into my home. Sanjay had protected his family the best he could, hiding his mother and two of his sisters in a small chest. With nothing but a hoe from the garden, he held off the three men intent on raping his oldest sister. When I arrived, it was not difficult to take care of the men downstairs. They were already drunk and easy to handle.”
An unreadable darkness filled Simon’s eyes, masking his face with a hard set.
“Sanjay’s youngest sister was upstairs when they broke in, and she didn’t get to safety quickly enough. Tanhill found her. He raped her and beat her and…”
Simon jabbed his hand through his hair and slammed his fist against the post of the bed. “I can still hear her screams. I ran down the long hallway like a man possessed. All I could think of was to get him away from her. I didn’t see the weapon he had at his side. Before I could protect myself, he raised his sword and swung.”
Jessica couldn’t breathe. She looked at his chest to the scar that would not go away. “And Sanjay’s sister?”
“Her name was Sarai. She was only fourteen years old. Just a child.” Simon stared at nothing for a long time, then slowly turned his gaze to Jessica. The look in his eyes was filled with torment. “Tanhill killed her. I lay helpless on the floor, and Tanhill laughed in my face. Then he put his sword to her throat and killed her.”
Jessica clamped her hands over her mouth. Dear God. It was Sarai.
“When I found out you were Tanhill’s sister, I knew what I had to do. You were my answer, the pawn I needed to destroy my enemy.”
Simon touched his hand to Jessica’s cheek and rubbed his thumb over her lips. “I just didn’t think you would ever become so important to me. Don’t you see? I had to marry you so Tanhill would never get the money. Marrying you was the only way I could protect you from him. It’s no different than the reason you came to me.”
The truth hurt. Simon was right. She’d gone to him to blackmail him into marrying her without telling him the real reason. Without considering that her stepbrother would kill the man she’d married to get the money.
What she had done to Simon was no worse than what he had done to her.
“We’ve made a bargain between us. You cannot back away from it,” Simon said, touching her face.
“I have kept my part of the bargain. I have—”
“No. You have not. You are my wife. How much longer do you intend to keep yourself from me?”
Every muscle in her body went rigid. “I’m not sure I can share you. I know you want—”
“No! I only want you! I am what I am because you have made me so. You looked beyond my hatred and vengeance and gave me your heart for safekeeping. I want nothing but to spend the rest of my life loving you.”
He held her by the shoulders and looked into her eyes. “I want no one but you,” he repeated, then brought his mouth down on hers.
He held her with a desperation that startled her, his lips pressing firmly against hers, warm and insistent, fiery and possessive.
His mouth opened atop hers, urging her compliance, demanding her acceptance. How could she deny him? She’d waited a lifetime to find the man holding her in his arms, and she could not give enough of herself to him. She followed his lead, and when he tipped her head to gain easier access, she moved with him, waiting for his invasion.
His tongue skimmed her lips, teasing, tormenting until she moaned in frustration. Every nerve anticipated the silky feel of his tongue touching hers, the never-ending battle for dominance and control.
She couldn’t wait any longer. She wanted him so badly she pressed herself against him, urging him to share his passion with her. She wrapped her arms tighter around his neck and let the feel of his soft woolen jacket rub through the thin material of her gown. She wanted him now with a desperation that was unequaled. She needed him more today than ever. She would die if he would not take her.
Jessica said the words out loud, pleading for
him to want her, begging for him to kiss her. When his tongue entered her warm, waiting cavern, she moaned a low, keening sound that vibrated in her head.
He deepened his kiss, then pulled away, then kissed her again until she was weak with desire.
Her hands clutched the fabric of his jacket, holding on to it for support, pulling at it to touch the hardened muscles she knew rippled beneath it. She needed to touch him, know the feel of his flesh touching hers, of his warmth radiating through her.
He kissed her again. Then again. And again until their breathing seemed to be one. Until her harsh, ragged gasps matched the violence of his own breathing. She could not take a breath unless he allowed it.
Without lifting his lips, he moved his hands to the buttons on her gown, popping them free, ripping what did not yield to his frantic movements. He pushed the material from her shoulders, letting it pool at her feet.
Cool air kissed her flesh, heightening her desire. Then he picked her up in his arms and placed her in the center of the bed.
Wild currents raced to every part of her body, burning a path to the pit of her stomach, then lower.
His hands moved over her, touching her, caressing her, causing a fire to rage within her. He kissed her again, hard, passionate, demanding. His tongue mated with hers, invading her warmth, taking what she gave freely. He raised his head and looked at her, the glazed look in his eyes dark with passion.
With a desperation that robbed her of every ounce of control, she pulled him to her, twining her arms around his neck to hold him close.
She clung to him while he carried her high atop their world of human frailties, until she shuddered in his arms.
He followed her over the edge, trembling violently above her, then collapsing against her while his breathing came in harsh, ragged gasps.
She held him close, never wanting to lose him.
She traced her fingertips over the rippling muscles across his shoulders and down his arms, over his smooth skin, damp from their lovemaking. She waited until his breathing slowed, then moved with him when he rolled to the side.
“Promise me my stepbrother will not harm you,” she said, looking into his face. “Promise me.”
He cupped his hand to her cheek and touched her gently. “I promise. As soon as the authorities have the opium shipment, this will all be over.”
“Do you know when it will arrive?”
“No. There’s probably only one other person besides Colin who knows the date and time of the opium shipment.”
“Do you know who that is?”
Her husband shook his head. “I’m still trying to discover who Tanhill trusts enough to negotiate for him.”
Jessica laid her head back on his chest and felt the soft thumping of his heart against her cheek. She wrapped her arms around his middle and held on tightly.
She had to do something. She could not afford to lose Simon now. She would die if she did.
A plan began to formulate. She knew exactly what she would do because she knew who was working with Colin. She’d seen her face in the carriage the night Simon had been shot.
Jessica carefully listed every detail so she would not make one mistake. Underestimating her stepbrother would be deadly.
She concentrated on when she would make her first move, but lost her train of thought when Simon’s hands moved over her.
When he came over her and lowered his mouth to hers, she twined her arms around his neck and pulled him to her.
Tonight she would love him.
Tomorrow she would find a way to save him.
Chapter 24
Jessica stood in Rosalind’s drawing room, surrounded by a wealth of treasures—priceless paintings, costly Chinese vases, expensive French furniture. Each item bespoke an extravagance that hinted that its mistress had at her fingertips an inexhaustible supply of wealth. Jessica knew she did not.
Careful not to touch anything, she walked around the room, mindful of the delicate crystal and fragile porcelain. It was not a house in which she felt at ease, and as she perused the formidable opulence, she wondered if Simon would be happy in such surroundings had he married Rosalind.
A sigh of contentment escaped her. The satisfaction she felt knowing he would not be at all comfortable filled her with a strange sense of peace and gave her a confidence she’d not felt before.
She walked to a window that overlooked the garden. The view was breathtaking. Rosalind’s penchant for extravagance extended even beyond her house. Stone walkways, marble benches and tables, and naked statues crowded the perfectly tended gardens bedecked with rare flowering bushes. Jessica turned away from such lavish extravagance.
Rosalind stood in the doorway, watching her.
The emerald-green silk moiré of her fashionable gown accented her ebony hair and porcelain complexion even more than the red satin had done. The vivid green of her emerald eyes shone in stark brilliance behind long, dark lashes that fluttered softly.
For an eternity they both stared at each other. Evaluating. Judging. Disliking.
Rosalind spoke first. “You cannot imagine my surprise when I was informed that you had come to call, Lady Northcote. What an interesting scenario. Simon’s wife with his former fiancé. What the ton wouldn’t give to see this.”
Rosalind swept through the doorway, brushing past Jessica in a flashy show meant to intimidate. She stopped and leveled Jessica with a look that revealed the beautiful siren intended to dominate.
“Can you understand what I’m saying?”
Jessica studied her thoughtfully. “Yes. I know what you are saying,” she answered calmly.
Rosalind smiled. “Tanhill thinks you’re an idiot. He thinks you don’t know what’s going on around you and have to be led around like an animal.” She swished her full skirt as if emphasizing her presence, then stepped around the plush maroon velvet divan. “But I don’t.” She leaned one graceful hand against the mantel of the lit fireplace in pose. The picture she presented was magnificent. “I think you are quite intelligent. A perfect match for Simon. Am I right?”
Jessica held Rosalind’s gaze and lifted the corners of her mouth ever so slightly. “Perhaps.”
Long seconds dragged by. A slight flush started from beneath Rosalind’s low-cut bodice and crept up her neck, coloring her cheeks. From the repeated clenching of her hands, Jessica knew the tense silence in the room bothered her hostess more than it bothered her.
“Please, sit down.” Rosalind pointed to the velvet settee and then poured two cups of tea from the ornate china tea service a maid had placed on a lace-covered table. She handed one to Jessica. With indescribable grace, she moved to the delicate Louis XIV chair facing her.
“Imagine,” she said, smoothing the lines of her gown. “Your stepbrother thinks you a deaf-mute with little more intelligence than an animal, and here you are, the epitome of grace and perfection. I knew he was wrong, of course. When I saw you at the Westawalds’ ball with Simon, you didn’t look the uncultured savage Tanhill would have me believe.”
Jessica cradled the fragile cup and saucer. It was strange. She thought she would be terrified facing the woman she believed was Simon’s mistress, but she was not. If anything, she pitied her.
Tiny lines appeared around Rosalind’s eyes and mouth, and on close inspection, Jessica noticed the small blemishes on Rosalind’s skin that powder failed to conceal. For a woman who relied on her beauty to gain wealth and popularity, it must be terrifying to watch your youthfulness fade.
“Your stepbrother thinks Simon virtually kidnapped you and made you his wife without your consent. It wasn’t that way at all, was it?”
“Hardly,” Jessica answered without dropping her gaze from Rosalind’s face.
“Do you love him?”
Jessica was too surprised to answer.
Rosalind smiled. “Of course you do. It’s impossible not to, isn’t it?” She sipped her tea. “Since my return, I’ve been most distressed that you elected to attend none of the same fu
nctions as I,” Rosalind said. “Rumor even has it that you inquire if my name is on the guest list and decline all invitations if I have also been invited.”
“You will have to take that up with Lord Northcote. That was his choice.”
Rosalind shook her head. “What a pity. He and I were quite close at one time, you know.”
“I think perhaps he does not want to be reminded of that…closeness.”
The glare in Rosalind’s eyes sharpened to a deadly attack, and she raised her curved eyebrows in disdain. Jessica placed her saucer firmly on the table and sat back. “I think it’s time we dispensed with the small talk and I explained my purpose for coming.”
“By all means.” Rosalind set her saucer down beside Jessica’s and lifted the corners of her mouth in a snide grin. “I cannot imagine why you’re here.”
“I have come to warn you.”
“Warn me?”
“Your scheme has been exposed. Yours and Tanhill’s. The authorities are closing in on my stepbrother’s illegal drug operation.”
Rosalind stiffened. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“They know about the opium shipment, and they know about Tanhill’s involvement with Great Northern Shipping and Lord Mottley and Sydney Carver.”
To Rosalind’s credit, she showed the perfect expression of surprise. “I can’t imagine what this has to do with me.”
“What they don’t know is the name of his operative. The person my stepbrother has working with him to do what he cannot openly do himself.”
Rosalind paused, her eyes narrowing. “How dare you.”
“I saw you in the carriage the night my stepbrother tried to kill Simon. I know you are his mistress and you are helping him make the arrangements he cannot publicly make himself.”
Rosalind clenched her hands in her lap and glared at Jessica. The malicious look on her face made her quite ugly. “What do you want?”
