Suddenly she stiffened; her balled fists struck at his chest, then she went limp. Jared pulled his mouth from hers to hear her whimpered plea, “Not again … dear God, not again!”
The piteous words hit him like spray from the North Sea on a winter’s day, and he felt disgust replace his desire. He’d never lost control; he was always in command of himself—except with Alissa. Feeling the fearful quake of her body, he straightened her bodice, then gently held her against his shoulder.
Her tears soaked his coat, and a sinking feeling settled near his heart, and he tenderly smoothed the wisps of hair from her brow. Like a father comforting his injured child, he rocked her in his arms and crooned softly to her, “Ssh, sweet, don’t cry. It will never happen again … I promise.” As the miles passed, her sobs finally subsided into small sniffs, and she drew a long, shaky breath. “Alissa,” he said, his tone low, regretful, “I apologize for my actions. I beg your forgiveness.”
Her misty eyes looked up at him. “I—I realize you have the right to do with me as you wish … it’s simply that you frightened me. You reminded me of … of …”
“Rothhamford,” Jared stated, then saw her nod and decided he was no better than the lecherous bastard himself. “I admit I’ve behaved like a cad, an overanxious schoolboy who has not yet learned his manners. I will never again make unwanted advances toward you, no matter what my rights might be. This I promise you.”
His words had sounded so genuinely sincere that Alissa could not help but believe him. “I—I know eventually we shall have to … to …”
“Make love?” Jared questioned, forcing back a smile. Her innocence intrigued him as she lowered her eyes and nodded. “I promise, Alissa, you will come to me willingly. I shall not force you. I also promise that when it happens, you will not be repulsed by the act. Know that it is a natural thing between a man and a woman. It gives much joy … a pleasure beyond words. When you are ready, I will teach you its ecstasies.” She seemed embarrassed by his words, a bit skeptical, too, so he changed the subject. “The brooch you wear, was it a gift?”
“It was my mother’s,” she said, as she touched the precious remembrance.
“From your father?”
“I don’t know. She never said.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I never knew my father, Jared. He may have deserted us, he may have died … or he might not know I exist,” she admitted in a weak voice. “Since I retain my mother’s name, I can only assume that I am … illegitimate.” She quickly turned her face away to stare out the window.
Jared squeezed her hand, then turned her face toward his with a gentle finger. “It is no crime to be such, Alissa. You are not accountable for your parents’ actions. Don’t think of yourself as any less important than those born from a union approved by the state and the church. It matters not where I’m concerned.”
“You speak the truth?” she asked, surprised.
“Sweet Alissa,” he said, his lips curving into a tender smile, “my first wife had a lineage as long as my arm and supposedly as pure as the first winter’s snow, yet despite her birthright, her legitimacy, she had no redeeming qualities. She was selfish and uncaring. The only thing of beauty that came from her was Megan.”
It was the first time Alissa had heard him speak freely of Celeste and his tone was contemptuous. Obviously, he had no feeling for the woman at all. But he had to have at one time. Why else would he have married her? She asked, “Why don’t you ever speak of Celeste?”
“I have reason,” he stated abruptly, saying no more. Then he shifted back to the opposite seat, and Alissa felt a sudden emptiness when he did so. “We’ll arrive at Hawkstone shortly. Mr. Stanley will make certain no one sees us.”
“Besides Mr. Stanley, does anyone else suspect our mission this evening?”
“Mission?” he asked, his lips twitching. “You make our marriage sound like some sordid bit of intrigue.”
“When one slips from the house after midnight to say one’s vows at a church hidden in the wood, I’d consider it a sneaky contrivance, wouldn’t you?”
“I suppose you’re right. I admit it took a modicum of maneuvering to make it all work. However, it was done to protect you. The only people aware of your true identity are Megan, the Jacobs, Mr. Stanley, and myself, of course. All can be trusted. You do realize we must continue this charade, until I’ve fulfilled my end of the bargain and have cleared your name.”
“At which time I will be expected to fulfill mine,” Alissa finished with a sigh. To Jared, it had sounded like she was preparing herself to be recorded in the annals of martyrdom. “It matters not,” she continued on the same toneless note. “A husband is a husband, any way one looks at it.”
Jared’s eyebrow rose. “I wouldn’t know. I never had one.”
Alissa smiled at his blasé tone. “If you had, Mr. Braxton, then I would not be in the position I’m presently in.”
“No, Mrs. Braxton, you would not. But you have a husband, and I have a wife. Instead of bemoaning the fact, I think it best we play the hand fate has dealt us. In the end, if we are careful, we both might win. I can give you the basic comforts of life, plus the extra amenities of which most women only dream. In return, you will be a loving mother to Megan, something she has lacked all her life. Together, we might build an amicable relationship, one based on respect.”
“But not love,” she stated, feeling a twinge of sadness near her heart. She’d never known the love of a man, not even her father’s, and Jared had said not to expect it from him. It hurt to think the emotion would always be lost to her.
Jared viewed her a long moment. “I’ve gone the route of love once, Alissa. It was a disastrous journey. Believe me when I say the emotion is not worth the pain.”
Although she knew nothing of his first marriage or the reason behind Jared’s cynical statement, she still disagreed, and she would have voiced her thoughts, but the coach pulled to a stop at the rear of the house, and Mr. Stanley climbed down from his seat and opened the door. “Follow me,” he whispered. “I’ll whistle if someone be lurkin’ around.”
Jared helped Alissa from the coach, then they followed Mr. Stanley into the darkened house. Like a cat, the wiry little man angled his way through the kitchens; the newly-weds followed, Alissa in the forefront. She tripped, her toe hitting a table leg; Jared bumped into her. Then his hands spanned her waist, his chest pressing to her back, and he began guiding her around the furnishings. He must be a creature of the night, she thought, wondering how he could possibly see in the blackened void, then he whispered, “The stairs are directly to your right.”
Switching positions, Jared took her hand and led her up the steps and stopped inside the alcove, where he waited for Mr. Stanley’s warning, Alissa again in front of him.
In the darkness, Alissa’s remaining senses suddenly awakened. Jared’s soft breath fanned the top of her head, and his spicy cologne filled her nostrils with its tantalizing scent. While his hands pressed gently against her waist, his chest molded itself to her back and shoulders. The sensations he evoked overwhelmed her; a thrill of excitement quivered through her.
Jared felt the tremor and, thinking she was chilled, covered her arms with his own, sharing his warmth. “Better?” he whispered, the gentle timbre of his voice sending another chill through her, and his arms tightened, pulling her closer.
Alissa did not object, for in the darkness, she could pretend her new husband had genuine affection for her, was showing her a measure of love, and she held the moment to her heart, knowing its tenderness would not last.
With her body curved to his, Jared felt desire spark deep within him again. She was soft, yielding … his. By right he could take her to his bed, and not a soul would object. No one, except Alissa, he thought, dejectedly. Their marriage was for Megan’s sake … and his own, he feared. She’d been an intricate part of him, day and night. She was the woman in his dreams, and he desired her, wanted her … love had nothing to do wit
h it. Yes, he wanted her now, but he also wanted her willingly.
He thought of their journey home from the church and of his heated response to her tentative kiss. Had he not been so eager, his fiery passion driving him onward, he would not have frightened her. She needed to be seduced, slowly, tenderly, but as long as the memory of Rothhamford’s attack stood between them, he knew she would not desire his touch, his kiss.
Then, with the knowledge that he had to somehow free her of the memory and make the scoundrel release his hold on her, Jared decided that by week’s end, he would face Rothhamford.
“’Tis clear,” Mr. Stanley whispered through the shadows, startling the couple, who were lost in their separate thoughts.
“Thank you, Thom,” Jared said, using the man’s Christian name, finding his shoulder and squeezing it. “Your friendship is valued beyond words.”
“’Twas me pleasure to help out. Sure were a surprise, though,” he said of Alissa’s true identity and the subsequent marriage, “but it be a nice one. Ye sure look right pretty tonight, mum. Right pretty. Well,” he said with a small chuckle, “best be leavin’ ye two alone.”
“An excellent idea,” Jared said in congenial agreement, and felt Alissa’s indrawn breath, but before she could speak, his arm tightened around her waist. “Good night, Thom.”
Mr. Stanley descended the stairs to see to the coach and horses, while Jared took Alissa’s hand and pulled her down the corridor, stopping outside her door. “Should you become lonely during the night, Mrs. Braxton,” he said in a teasing tone, “my rooms are but two doors away.” Then he brushed her lips in a soft kiss.
Alissa stared after his shadowy form as he strode quietly to the end of the hallway. His door opened, then he whispered, “Good night, sweet,” and the panel closed.
Inside her own quarters, her door secured should her husband decide to seek her out instead, Alissa gazed at her wedding band. Gold was for purity, the circlet for eternity … united forever, she thought, watching the moonlight reflect off the sapphires as she stood by the window. By legend, she knew, it was said a nerve ran from the ring finger of the left hand, directly to the heart. Was it true? she wondered, then decided it was only myth. Yet, when she slipped the band from her finger, she felt a painful twist near her heart.
Moving to the armoire, she pulled the petticoat from the shelf, and with one last glance, she placed her wedding band, along with the brooch, into the faded satin box. There it would stay until her name was cleared and her disguise dropped. The items hidden away again, her blue silk dress sheltered at the back of the wardrobe, she readied herself for bed. As she lay there staring at the moon as it crested outside her window, she suddenly realized the full import of the night’s events.
Married, she thought. A wife, a mother … Mrs. Jared Braxton! A lone tear slipped down her cheek as she acknowledged that Alissa Ashford, actress by trade, was gone forever.
CHAPTER
Thirteen
“You seem preoccupied,” Ian said, startling Alissa as she sat on the quilt, gazing out over the clearing to watch Megan frolic in the grass. “What momentous thoughts would make you deaf to my approach?” he asked, his smile teasing. “Has some disaster befallen the area while I was away?”
Yes, she cried inwardly, but held her tongue. “It’s good to see you again,” she said, quickly masking her thoughts, and held up her hands to him. Ian took them and squeezed lightly, then she slipped free. “We’ve missed you.”
“You didn’t answer my question,” he said as he sat next to her, his own gaze beholding an excited Megan as a yapping Merlin ran round her feet. “What holds your thoughts?”
“Nothing of import,” she lied, for she’d been thinking of her marriage, and Jared’s absence.
“Braxton, I’d say,” Ian stated, and Alissa’s head snapped around. “I’ve been told I have an uncanny sense of knowing what others think.”
“Obviously,” Alissa said, a skeptical frown marring her brow. “But it would not be hard to determine the source of my thoughts. Lately it has been Megan’s father.”
“Has he been acting like an ogre? If so, I tell you his temperament is simply part of his personality, worrisome as it might be. Actually, it’s a pretense. Under his ferocious lion’s snarl is a tame little kitten who likes to be stroked.”
Alissa laughed. “A pouting little boy, you say?”
“Something like that. Where is Braxton, anyway?”
“I’ve not a clue. He left four days past, on business.” Was it? she wondered. Or was it pleasure?
“Well, he’ll show up again … like a bad penny.”
“Ian,” Alissa scolded, “your trip made you rather surly. Did it not go well?”
“Fine, fine. It was actually most pleasant. London, as always, was exciting, depending upon what part one has the fortune or misfortune to live. I was able to take in a play at the Garden,” he stated nonchalantly, then watched for her reaction. Not even a flinch, he thought, wondering if she was who he thought. While in London, he’d been able to trace Miss Pembroke to her last known address, a boardinghouse belonging to one Eudora Binnington. He’d also learned of an actress, Alissa Ashford, who had also resided at the same address and who was presently being sought by the Crown. “Have you ever been to the Garden?”
“Yes,” Alissa admitted, plucking a piece of lint from her skirt.
“It’s deteriorated somewhat since I’d last been there. The riffraff and all,” he said, still watching her, “but the plays are still good. Well, enough of London. I’ve many more adventures to tell.”
Relieved, Alissa listened as he regaled her with accounts of his journeys about Scotland and England; when Megan joined them, his stories became even more colorful. As she gazed at Ian, Alissa felt a comforting warmth. The man was a friend, a true friend. Eventually, she would confess her identity. But at the moment, she was under direct orders from her husband to keep her secret quiet.
Guilt suddenly crept upward, making her feel a bit strange. Knowing of his hostilities toward Ian, she considered whether she was disobeying Jared’s wishes in another way. Although he’d never verbally forbidden her to see Ian, simply because she’d never mentioned their encounter and subsequent friendship, she feared she might be creating a more volatile situation by allowing their secret meetings to continue.
As she thought about it, she knew Ian’s shared moments with Megan were not in the least detrimental. In fact, he, too, had been able to draw her out. Should the time come that Jared discovered their rendezvous, as innocent as they were, then she’d deal with it accordingly. For now, she would enjoy Ian’s company. After all, she needed a special friend, one who did not make demands.
“Has the master returned to Hawkstone?” Ian asked, two days later.
“No. It’s been almost a week since he left.”
“Well, as I said—”
“Like a bad penny … I know,” Alissa said, then laughed. Although her laughter’s light melody filled the glade, deep down, she wondered if Jared’s continued absence actually meant he’d already sought another to warm his bed.
Jared entered the room at the private gentlemen’s club as if he owned the place, poured himself a glass of brandy, then sat in a vacant chair, opposite Rothhamford. It had taken him this long to find the whoreson, but it had not been time wasted, for he’d discovered a lot about the man’s character, all of it bad.
“Good to see you again, Rothhamford,” Jared said as he leaned back in the cordovan leather chair, raising his glass in salute. “You’re looking well.”
Hearing his titled name, Charles Rhodes stopped his dissertation on a particularly fine horse he’d come upon and pivoted his head to look down his nose at the stranger. “You say something?” he inquired in his usual nasal tone.
Jared studied the flatulent man. Thinning hair, combed to cover a bald spot, crowned his egg-shaped head. Spiked, bushy brows topped heavy-lidded eyes that drooped along the lower rims; a bulbous nose, tipped upward at the
end, resembled that of a pig, while sagging jowls hung down onto a stunted neck.
Then his gaze traveled to Rothhamford’s flabby mouth and watched as it pinched itself into the position of annoyed superiority. As he thought of those lips traveling over Alissa’s soft skin, Jared felt hot anger shoot through him, but with great effort, he kept his temper in check. “I said you are looking well, considering the bad round you took.” Jared frowned. “I say, nasty scar, there.” He watched as the man’s hand touched his temple. “Hope it doesn’t give you much bother.”
“Uh, I don’t believe we’ve met.”
“Braxton, Jared Braxton,” he said, extending his hand and receiving a limp shake in return. “And we did meet, several years past … the Derby, remember?”
“Right, right,” Rothhamford agreed, not remembering this Braxton fellow at all. “Good to see you again.”
“I thought you’d remember,” Jared said, tonelessly. “Have they caught the rapscallion who accosted you?”
“She’s still at large.”
“She? I thought you were attacked by some street urchin.”
“Not quite. Good lord, man, don’t you read the papers?”
“My estate is in Scotland. I’ve just come to London on business. I’d heard you were in some sort of fracas, but didn’t hear the details.”
Rothhamford perked up. This was his chance to relay the story, yet another time, with all its embellishments. “I say, we were just about to adjourn to the game room for a hand of whist. We seem to be out a man. Would you like to join us?”
“Certainly. I must warn you, though, I haven’t played for some time, so I might be a bit out of practice. You’ll have to bear with me … oh, and I assume we will carry a wager?” Jared took a large quantity of folded bills from his inside coat pocket and saw Rothhamford’s eyes widen.
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