Abruptly she left him, the hurt she felt on a scale too great to contemplate. It was as if everything that was wrong between them could never be put right.
That night she lay alone in her bed, yearning for the man in the next room with a desperation that frightened her. The problem seemed insurmountable and she wept bitter tears of misery and despair into her pillow, convinced she had married a man with a stone for a heart.
Chapter Twelve
The following morning the sun, shining out of a speedwell-blue sky, spilled into Louisa’s room, the torrential rain which had saturated everything the day before having stopped shortly after she had gone to bed. Still angry and smarting over her confrontation with Alistair the night before, and feeling the need of some fresh air, she left the house and wandered in the direction of the stables, always happy to be with the horses.
She wondered if Sophie was still locked in her room, not having seen her since the previous day, and she sighed wearily, knowing her young sister-in-law would be none too pleased with her for telling Alistair about her association with Charles Meredith—but she had no regrets about telling him. It had to be done if Sophie was to be protected.
As she wandered into the stable yard, the sight of the horses’ heads peering out over the half-stable doors and their soft whickering never failed to excite and cheer her. She breathed deeply, inhaling the familiar smell of the tack room, of warm leather and saddle soap, hearing the sounds of rubbing and scrubbing as stable boys polished the tack. She acknowledged the polite, respectful good mornings cast her way by the grooms with a smile, and stood surveying the bustling activity going on around her with casual interest, watching as fresh feed was mixed, the horse boxes cleaned out and fresh, sweet-smelling straw brought.
At that moment Alistair, returning from an early morning ride, came cantering into the yard on a powerful jet-black brute of a horse with a zigzag blaze and two white socks. She stood still and watched him as he pulled him up, envious of the spontaneous mastery he seemed to have over horses. She was a reasonably good rider, but when it came down to training them she was an absolute non-starter. How handsome he was, she thought, how striking, her heart wrenching with love as she allowed her eyes to dwell on his face, seeing the ruthless set of his jaw and his sculptured mouth. His jacket clung to his wide shoulders; in fact, everything about him exuded brute strength, making her feel quite helpless.
It was never easy to remain composed when she was with him, for his face was so intense that she was affected by the force of passion that emanated from him, that seared her flesh and melted her bones. She wanted to tell him how much she loved him, how much he had come to mean to her, but she was afraid that he would scorn her and hold it over her head all the years of her life, like the sword of Damocles.
He was to leave for London the following day, and she winced when she remembered how much she had missed him the last time he had gone, and how she had longed for his homecoming, while all the time he would not have given her a second thought. She would not be the only one to miss him this time. Mark was equally upset that he was to go and had begged and pleaded to be allowed to accompany him, but Alistair had adamantly refused to consider it, telling him firmly that he must remain at his lessons, which had upset the little boy terribly.
On seeing Louisa, Alistair slid off his horse with an effortless agility and handed the reins to a waiting groom, before striding briskly towards her, casually dressed and bare-headed, the gentle breeze ruffling his thick dark hair.
“Come along,” he said, taking her arm, his face unreadable—impassive. “Walk with me. I want to talk to you.”
Uncertain of his mood after their angry and extremely bitter exchange of the previous night, which had opened up so many painful wounds between them, Louisa walked with him away from the stables and along an avenue of tall chestnuts. She stole a surreptitious look at him. The set of his jaw was rigid, his profile harsh, and she noticed the cynicism in his deep blue eyes.
“You will be pleased to know that I’ve spoken to Sophie,” he said without preamble. “I have also ridden into Wyndham to confront Charles Meredith, only to be told that he left first thing this morning for London.”
“I see. I hope you were not too hard on Sophie,” Louisa said, sounding cool.
“She provoked me.”
“And you have an unfortunately savage temper when provoked. Did you upset her?”
“A bit. But anything to do with Charles Meredith brings out the worst side of my nature.”
“And?”
“And what?”
“What did Sophie say when you confronted her? That’s providing she let you through the door,” Louisa murmured calmly, feeling heartily sorry for Sophie, for she knew without being told that, faced with her brother’s fury, Sophie would have been like clay in his powerful hands, and would no doubt be lying on her bed at this very minute, sobbing tears of misery into her pillow. She would go to her the moment she returned to the house.
“She had no choice, and when I’d finished with her she was as meek as a lamb and agreed never to see him again,” he said, giving Louisa no indication in either his look or the tone of his voice that his victory over his sister had been hard won. “She’ll do as she’s told, and that’s all there is to it.”
“Sophie? As meek as a lamb?” Louisa gasped in disbelief. “Now that I cannot believe, Alistair.”
He grinned suddenly, looking down at her, his lips curling back to reveal his strong white teeth. “Well—not quite,” he said on a softer note, thinking how attractive she looked in her lemon dress, with her hair loosened and rippling and lifting in the wind.
“Did you tell her why you dislike Sir Charles so much?”
“I told her enough.”
“But not all of it?”
“No.”
“Then I can only hope it was sufficient.”
Alistair looked at her quizzically, seeing doubt in her eyes. “Why? Do you believe she would defy me?”
Louisa looked at him and raised her eyebrows, her glance conveying that she did.
“She would not dare,” he growled, scowling.
“Sophie is strong-willed and her own person, Alistair, and not only that—she is in love with him.”
“She thinks she is.”
“She is seventeen and believes she is,” Louisa argued firmly, “and when one is seventeen and in love one does not think of the consequences.”
“You sound as if you speak from experience,” he said softly.
“When I was seventeen I had no time for such frivolous diversions,” she answered tartly. “I was too busy trying to run Bierlow Hall and to keep the wolf from the door.”
Alistair’s eyes gleamed wickedly. “And in the end you failed—or, should I say, your brother let him in?”
Louisa looked at him sharply, seeing his eyes grow more vividly blue as she followed his train of thought, knowing perfectly well that he was referring to himself. “Yes—come to think of it, your behaviour was somewhat predatory when we first met. You even look like a wolf when you’re angry, and—if you are driven to excess—I am quite sure you would bite. I only hope you did not upset Sophie unduly and that she heeds what you told her.”
“Sophie is headstrong and wilful, I grant you—and is prone to argue and demand her own way, but she is not stupid.”
Louisa sighed deeply, finding it difficult to repress a smile. “She is like someone else I know,” she said meaningfully. “The very image of her brother. She resembles you a good deal, Alistair—in more than looks.”
He raised his eyebrows in wry amusement and a smile pulled at the corners of his lips. “Yes, I fear she does,” he agreed.
They walked on a little way in silence, coming to the end of the avenue of lofty chestnuts on the brow of a hill, from which they could look down over the green treetops to Wyndham and the river winding and rushing its way through the valley bottom, seeing the new bridge that was now under construction at the heart of the small
town, which would make life a good deal easier for residents and travellers alike.
“How long will you be in London, Alistair?”
“Not too long, I hope. I’d prefer not to be going at all, but with the country engaged in this crucial struggle with France, I feel that I must. I have decided to take Sophie with me. A few weeks in Richmond with Julia to keep an eye on her will not do her any harm—and she will be safe from the kind of temptation which Charles Meredith seems to represent.”
“But you have just told me that Sir Charles has gone to London. Are you not afraid that they might meet?”
“I doubt that. Meredith will be unaware that she has left Huntswood—and Julia will see to it that she remains at Richmond.”
“I see,” Louisa said. She would miss Sophie but Alistair was right. A short time spent under Julia’s watchful eye would do her good, and take the worry off herself for a while. “Take Mark with you,” she said suddenly, knowing how much the child wanted to be with his father.
One of Alistair’s black brows went up and he took a long, cool look at her, irritated by her request, for he had already told Mark that he must remain at Huntswood and the subject was closed to discussion.
“No, Louisa. I thought I had made it plain that Mark is to stay here with you. I will ask you not to take issue over this because I will have my own way in this, as in everything else where Mark is concerned—however painful you might find it.”
“But can’t you see that he wants to be with you?” she persisted, remembering how upset Mark had been when he’d discovered his father was going away—the sight of his tear-filled eyes and mournful face when Alistair had refused to let his son accompany him driving her on. “Long before Constance was born he was the most important person in your life, and, much as he adores his new sister, he is a little jealous of all the attention you give her.”
“I’m sure you’ll be able to deal with it when I’ve gone,” he replied, trying to stifle his impatience. “Mothers do, don’t they?”
Louisa stopped walking and stared at him. “But he is not my child.”
Alistair’s face was expressionless when he paused and looked down at her, but in his eyes a spark flashed, grim and formidable. “The moment you became my wife you also became the mother of my child.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” she cried, springing rapidly to the attack. “I am his stepmother and I am devoted to him, you know that, but you are his father and he wants to be with you. He has felt a little left out of late—neglected, if you like. This is a sensitive time for him, Alistair. Mark is still a child.”
Alistair’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “How dare you reproach me? Are you accusing me of neglecting my own son?”
“No, of course not. That is not the issue and you know it. All I am suggesting is that a little time away from here—alone with you—would do him the world of good.”
Alistair remained unmoved as his mouth settled in a firm, hard line. “As you say, Louisa, Mark is still a child and I do not want to take him away from his lessons.”
“That can be easily remedied. Take Mark and his tutor with you to London.”
“No.”
“Then I suppose it is too much to expect you to put off going to London for a while?”
“It is. I have to go. Mark will be perfectly all right here with you. He has been before. I do not see why this time should be any different.”
“Then we did not have Constance,” Louisa cried, having to summon all her patience to stop herself bursting out in fury. Alistair’s aggressive manner angered her beyond belief. “You are too fond of your work, Alistair,” she accused bitterly. “Does your family always have to take second place? You are either away in London applying yourself to the weighty matters of state, or immersed in your work here. I cannot for the life of me see why you go to the expense of employing bailiffs if you insist on doing everything yourself.”
With her cheeks flaming, she turned and began walking briskly back up the avenue of chestnuts, uncaring whether he followed her or not. But he was soon beside her, matching her stride for angry stride, having listened to her harsh accusations and choosing to misconstrue their meaning, which only succeeded in increasing her fury further when he next spoke.
“And is that what this is all about? Do you miss my company, Louisa—my absence from your bed? Are you complaining?” he asked, with a mocking smile, his eyes gleaming cruelly.
“How can I miss what I’ve never had?” she retorted, glaring sideways at him. “Besides, I have got to like things perfectly well the way they are. It is no hardship for me. You have made it plain by your absence from my bed that it holds no charms for you. So go to London, Alistair. No doubt you will find it full of beds with women who will be more than willing to satisfy your needs—which, I have often thought, might be your true reason for going there.”
“Then think that, if it pleases you to do so. That is your affair. But let me remind you that fidelity was never one of your virtues either, Louisa,” he taunted mockingly.
His jibe was cutting and unjust. Stung, Louisa seethed with rage and pain. How could he insult her so? Ever since she had married him she had kept the wilder side to her nature under restraint by self-discipline, which was now about to crack. She stopped abruptly, feeling that the pain in her throat would strangle her.
“How dare you? From the very beginning you have gone out of your way to hurt and humiliate me. I asked for none of this. I have not forgotten what I did, Alistair, but I will thank you to refrain from mentioning something that I have since had cause to regret bitterly. Marriage is supposed to be a partnership,” she said, her eyes snapping, “and as a partnership it has certain obligations. But this is no partnership, is it, Alistair? And so any obligations we should feel for each other have gone by the way. This marriage—apart from producing Constance—has fulfilled none of our expectations.”
Alistair’s face became grim and impassive, and his eyes were cold, with a compelling arrogance, when they looked at her, each word she uttered bringing him to the crumbling edge of violence. “Then I should tell you that I have decided to improve matters between us. Now Constance is over four months old I am ready to put the past behind us. If we are to have more children, then we can hardly do so occupying separate beds.”
With a pounding heart, Louisa stared at him in astonishment, unable to believe he was saying what she had despaired of ever hearing from him, but then her soft lips tightened and her eyes blazed her defiance, flashing scorn.
“You are ready? That is exactly the kind of arrogant assumption I would expect from you. And what makes you think that I am? I am not someone to be used when the fancy takes you and cast aside when your desire has been slaked. What has all this been, Alistair—some kind of test you have put me through and which I have now passed? Do you consider I will make you a suitable wife after all?”
“I had to know what kind of woman you are. Remember that we did not know each other. You could have been a clever adventuress or any number of things.”
“Then think yourself lucky that I was not a courtesan,” she scorned, feeling too insulted to be comforted.
“So! You refuse to share my bed?”
“Yes, I refuse.”
His eyes narrowed, at a point of fury where reason was in danger of leaving him. He drew himself up to his full height. His jaw was rigidly set, his lips white. “Think very carefully, Louisa.”
“I have.” She threw the words at him. “I have had almost twelve whole months to think. Your treatment of me has been abominable.”
“You are my wife,” he ground out, “and a man may treat his wife in any way he sees fit—within reason, of course.”
“But of course,” she scoffed, tossing her head in defiance, knowing that she was placing her whole marriage in jeopardy. “Like a possession, you mean!”
Alistair seethed inwardly. An anger so intense seized him that he trembled with the force of it. “If you like. But I will not endure your vi
perish tongue, your hostility or your defiance. Try my patience too far, Louisa, and you will find out what I can and cannot do.”
“Then do your worst, Alistair, which is what you are good at,” she flared, ignoring the danger signals in his blazing eyes. She was too angry to stop now. “To the devil with you, I say. I care nothing for your anger, or your bullying. But if, after all these months of passive neglect, you think you can just crook your finger and I will fall into your bed you are mistaken.”
“Then, as you so delicately put it earlier, there are plenty of beds with willing occupants in London. I shall not fail to avail myself of one of them if I so wish.”
“Then do so and see if I care. I cannot for the life of me imagine what they see in you to attract them.”
Alistair stared at her for a long moment, and then the line of his mouth became cruel. “Can you not, my dear wife?” He thrust his face closer to hers, thinking how adorable she looked with her cheeks flushed and her eyes spitting fire. “Then perhaps I will show you.”
Louisa became frozen as Alistair’s eyes travelled from her face to her angrily heaving bosom, her delicious curves riper than they had been before the birth of Constance. When his eyes rested on her lips she found her voice, unnerved by the unleashed sensuality she saw in his expression.
“Don’t you dare touch me—” But almost before the words were uttered his hands were twined cruelly in her hair and he ground his mouth savagely against hers, his lips punishing and bruising. She struggled against him, the pain as he held her head almost beyond endurance. She had dreamed of this moment when he would kiss her, but this was not the kind of kiss she had wanted. This kiss was forced on her in anger and contempt, and his desire to humiliate her, and it roused her to redhot fury.
As abruptly as he had seized her, so did he release her, so that she stumbled back from him. He glared at her, at her hair lying in tangled confusion over her shoulders, her cheeks a vivid scarlet, and her mouth tender and bruised.
Louisa was beside herself with rage, and, far from compliant, she flew at him with a storm of anger. He stared at the savagery in her eyes as he took hold of her arms to hold her away from him, while she pummelled his chest with her fists, wanting to strike out at him and hurt him with all the fury inside her heart. Calming herself, she shook herself free of him and stood back, her body trembling.
An Innocent Proposal Page 25
