Tender Torment

by Meadowes, Alicia

  “Yes, I understand exactly. And I’m certain there will be no repetition of this in the future. I can rely on that now, can’t I?”

  “Oh, but of course. Yes, yes indeed,” Alden replied penitently. “And now if you’ll excuse me.” He skirted around Straeford in an attempt to exit quickly and without further humiliation. But Meg would not permit it.

  “Coward!” she yelled, flinging her reticule at Alden’s retreating back and causing him to stumble. Straeford laughed derisively, but Meg shared little of his humor. “You interfering busybody! You sniggering, pompous…”

  Before she could finish the earl’s hands reached out to clench both of her arms with a rock-hard grip. For almost a full minute he shook her violently, and Meg gasped from shock and fright. She thought for certain that he had completely lost control, but finally he stopped to warn her once more about her flirtation with Alden.

  “Do you think I’m going to permit some conniving little shrew such as yourself to plunge us all into a scandal?”

  “Scandal? I could have married him!”

  “Now listen to me. Don’t delude yourself for one more minute. You’re nothing but a spoiled brat peddling her wares for the first time to, of all people, an accomplished womanizer. Why, you fool! You gullible little wench! Did you really think for one moment that Alden had succumbed to you? Hah! How laughable! Why, he’s managed to escape the wedding noose more years than you’ve lived.”

  “I… I don’t believe you! You’re lying. And you’re jealous, too.” Meg tried to wriggle free of his painful grip.

  “Jealous?”

  “Yes, jealous. Your actions tonight prove that to me. You’re really sorry that you didn’t choose me instead of my sister. That’s the real truth, isn’t it?”

  Straeford’s eyes turned to steel. He released his grip abruptly, causing her to reel backward. “You conceited little bitch!”

  “Yes. Go ahead. Rail at me all you like, your lordship. But I’ve seen you watching me. Giving me that sidelong look now and then. Why don’t you admit it? You made a mistake and now you’re sorry.”

  “Even if that were true, just what difference could that possibly make now?”

  Meg heard only the first part of his statement and threw herself into his arms. “Oh, Justin, if only you had chosen me. I could have given you everything you ever wanted in a woman.”

  “And what might that be, my dear, dear Meg?” he asked, a ruthless smile playing about his lips.

  “This!” Meg pulled his head down to meet hers and kissed him boldly. She had not anticipated that his lips in turn would brutally clamp hard on hers and his arms would tighten like manacles about her small frame, holding her immobile until she felt she could no longer breathe. Groaning, then struggling ineffectually to release herself, she felt faint. Suddenly he thrust her away from him, and Meg found herself staggering toward a stone pedestal, gasping for air. As she turned to face him, she raised the back of her hand to her lips, her earlier insolence now entirely replaced by fear. Straeford’s eyes had an ominous look as he hovered over her.

  “Shall I take you here in the garden, my dear? What do you say to that?” He moved threateningly toward her, and Meg let out a screech. Flailing her arms wildly, she took to her heels and scrambled out of the garden, Straeford’s mocking laugh echoing in her ears.

  As soon as Meg re-entered the ballroom, Marisa knew that something was seriously wrong, and she whisked her misty-eyed sister off to the morning room for a quiet tête-à-tête.

  “What ever is the matter, dear?” Marisa coaxed. “You can tell me.”

  “Your… husband,” she sobbed. “He’s a brute… a monster.”

  “Meg! What are you talking about? What has Justin done to cause this?” Marisa was both frightened and angered by her sister’s unexpected outburst.

  “Oh, Marisa, I didn’t know… he was so… so terrible! You poor thing! Married to that incorrigible…”

  “Meg!” Marisa demanded, her patience now taxed. “For heaven’s sake, tell me what happened.”

  “I taught her a damn good lesson. That’s what happened.” The sharp rejoinder came from the open door. Straeford sauntered into the room, a look of contempt undisguised on his face. Meg wailed and darted behind Marisa.

  “Don’t let him touch me!”

  “Touch you?” he scorned. “Why, I’d rather pet a viper!”

  “Justin!” Marisa was totally nonplussed by both of their reactions. “What is going on here?”

  “I’ll tell you what’s going on all right. Your loving little sister got precisely what she deserved tonight. She learned that she can’t always get what she wants by throwing herself at a man, be he unmarried or otherwise. Isn’t that right, my dear sister-in-law?”

  “Oh, I hate you! I don’t know how Marisa can tolerate the likes of you for one second. I detest the ground you walk on.”

  “Meg, please,” Marisa pleaded, stepping between the two adversaries, who had squared off with one another.

  “So this is where you are!” All eyes turned to greet Lady Maxwell. “I’ve been searching frantically for the three of you. Have you lost every sense of social grace, closeting yourselves in here when you have a house full of guests?” She paused for a reply and, when no one enlightened her, she demanded in a louder voice. “Well?”

  “We stand rightfully chastised, Grandmother,” Justin finally agreed. “We were just about to rejoin our guests, as a matter of fact. Isn’t that right, Meg?” He cast an intimidating look in her direction. “Why don’t you run along with Lady Maxwell? The countess and I will follow very shortly. And mind you now, girl, behave yourself.”

  Meg made little attempt to conceal the sour expression on her face, but she nevertheless dutifully followed Lady Maxwell out of the room.

  Now that they were alone, Marisa was bursting with curiosity about exactly what had happened in the garden, but Straeford spoke first.

  “Marisa, the sooner you find an eligible husband for that… that sister of yours, the better it will be for all of us.”

  “But my lord,” Marisa entreated, “I really don’t think you understand Meg at all.”

  “Of that I am absolutely certain,” he snorted.

  “She’s young… and, of course, very, very foolish and sometimes headstrong in many ways. But she is not an evil person, I’m sure you’ll agree.”

  “I am not at all ready to agree entirely on that point, but neither am I prepared at this moment to discuss the matter at great length. Let’s simply abandon this topic of discussion for the present,” he said with an air of finality. Straeford extended an arm toward her and seemed anxious to put the whole matter aside. “Let us rejoin our guests. After all, it is our party, you know. And I fancy another whirl about the dance floor with you, my dear.”

  Marisa could not help revealing a look of amazement at the earl’s unexpected demonstration of warmth and affection. “Hmmm…” she mused out loud. “It seems to me that I remember your telling me that you never danced.”

  “Oh, no, my dear. Not at all,” he said goodnaturedly. “What I said was that I don’t dance as a rule.”

  “Oh, and what might be the reason for breaking that rule tonight?” she inquired.

  “A beautiful lady is the only reason I should ever consider breaking that rule,” he replied, leading her toward the ballroom.

  Marisa sat in front of her dresser, staring absentmindedly in the mirror, pondering the night’s events. All in all, it had been a rather successful evening. Every guest that had been expected had appeared, and by and large the food, the service, and the music all seemed quite satisfactory. The only incident that had marred the occasion was the unpleasantness between Justin and Meg. Poor girl, Marisa thought. The earl was no one to tamper with, and it must have been a jolt to her to experience his wrath so totally. But what caused him to be so openly hostile toward Meg? Marisa reminded herself to find out in the morning exactly what had taken place between the two of them.

  Oth
erwise, Justin had been disarmingly amiable and charming to virtually every guest with whom he came in contact—and to Marisa as well. She had been utterly amazed and delighted at his invitation to dance. He was complimentary and flattering and, yes; even loving. Tonight he had been the way she hoped he could be, and she felt proud to be his wife. It was something she had never quite articulated in her own mind before, but now, right at this moment, a very good feeling about her marriage seemed to glow inside her.

  A light rap came from the adjoining bedroom door, and before she could respond, Justin entered.

  “I didn’t want to let the night go by without.telling you how pleased I was with the whole affair. You did a magnificent job.” He bent over to kiss her lightly on the cheek and, as he did, Marisa clasped his shoulder with her hand.

  “I’m so happy to hear you say that, my dear Justin. I was just sitting here thinking about…” Before she could finish her sentence, his mouth was pressed against hers, his hands gently fondling her long, silken hair. It was a long, tender, lingering kiss with their lips mutually exploring, lightly touching, barely meeting one another, and though he had not intended it to be a passionate act, Justin now found himself unable to stop. A familiar and seductive fragrance revealed itself from some point along Marisa’s delicate shoulder, and he felt compelled to press her closer to him in order to drink in that mysterious scent.

  Without uttering a sound, Justin lifted Marisa into his arms and, with a smile on his lips, slowly carried her to the nearby bed. The ease with which he lifted her gave Marisa a strange, conquered feeling, so strong were his sinewy arms, that she found herself consciously admitting that it was a thrilling sensation, too.

  Still wrapped in his arms above the bed, Marisa felt her nightgown slowly descend to the floor. Gently, he lowered her disrobed body to the bed, and she shivered in anticipation while he put out the lone lamp on her dresser.

  When he returned to her, his body was naked, and his strong hands found her in the darkness, warming her with hypnotic, repetitive caresses. It was different tonight. Somehow he was communicating a genuine desire for her in a way that made Marisa want him, too.

  Afterward, Marisa cuddled next to Justin and drifted off to sleep, her hand caressing his cheek. She would later recall that secure feeling which enveloped her as she lay there, nestled close to his body.

  It seemed much later, though it actually was not, that she felt his body stir, and she awakened to find Justin sitting up at the edge of the bed.

  “Justin?” she called sleepily.

  But he did not answer. Instead, he simply got up and left the room without a word, leaving Marisa in a state of bewilderment.

  He, too, was uncertain about the significance of this entire day’s events. As he reviewed them in his mind, he sensed for some reason that they were out of character for him. He wondered what all of those guests must have thought about this new role he was assuming. Was his wife attempting to transform him into something… domestic or demeaning? Something less than he was before their marriage? Had he made a spectacle of himself? Even though there had been many enjoyable moments throughout the day, he could not shake loose the notion that he was now vulnerable to her, and that was a feeling he did not relish at all.

  13

  Straeford no longer attempted to deceive himself where his wife was concerned. His defenses against her were weakening with every passing day. Greatly disturbed by his susceptibility to her sweetness and unaffected charms, he withdrew from her behind a wall of icy indifference. Whenever possible in the following days he spurned Marisa’s company, and if he was forced to be in her presence, his conversation with her was brief to the point of being curt.

  Marisa bore up under this treatment of her as best she could, but it was causing her some sleepless nights and unhappy days as she tried to come to terms with Justin’s erratic behavior. After shopping one morning, she arrived home in time to see her husband and Edward Harding entering the library. Immediately the major did an about-face, coming to her while Justin stood stiffly in the doorway watching them. They exchanged pleasantries until Straeford grew impatient and called to his friend. “Ed, I’ll be in the library when you are ready.” He bowed slightly to his wife and left them alone.

  Harding was bewildered by Straeford’s behavior and upon entering the library he exclaimed, “You’re a deuced odd chap.”

  “How so?” Straeford asked as he handed him a brandy.

  “Not my business, I suppose, but that was some greeting you gave your wife.”

  Straeford puffed on his cigar and leaned back in his chair before quipping sardonically, “Quite right, old man, it’s not your business how I greet my wife.”

  “Well, blister me!”

  “Take it easy, Ed, no offense intended.” Straeford laughed and came to slip his arm about the major’s shoulders. “I was only agreeing with you. You were the one who said it wasn’t your business.”

  “Yes, well, of course.” Somewhat mollified, Harding smiled sheepishly and quickly changed the subject. “So, what was the matter you wished to discuss with me?”

  “I want you to read a draft of my will. The part pertaining to the heir in particular. Here.” Justin thrust a paper into his friend’s hand. Surprised by such a request and not knowing what to say or think, Harding simply began to study the paper in his hand. When he. finally raised his eyes from the document, Justin could read the astonishment in them.

  “Hell, Just, this is most irregular!”

  “Will you do it?”

  “Who’s to say you won’t be around to raise your own son?” Harding was highly agitated and he began to pace the floor, but finally he came to a stop and stared across the desk at his friend. “Besides, where does your wife come into it?”

  “She doesn’t! If I’m not here, I want you to raise my son.”

  Stupefied, Edward Harding groped for the right words to condemn Justin’s heartless action. He did not wish to hurt this man who had suffered at the hands of his own mother; and yet he could never allow Justin’s prejudice against women to crush that sweet girl who was his wife. “Just,” he gulped, “two women could not be more dissimilar than the present countess and your… mother.”

  Straeford flung himself out of his chair and leaned across the desk toward his friend. “There is no telling for sure with any woman.”

  “I… I can’t agree with you. Lady Marisa is a good woman, and I won’t usurp her position. It ain’t right to even think about it.” The two friends glared across the intervening space at one another until Harding broke the strained atmosphere by moving around the desk to grasp Straeford by the arm. “Just, you know I’d do about anything for you, but don’t ask this of me. I’d be happy to be your son’s guardian if anything ever happened to you. You know that. But I would never take the child away from your wife… unless… and mind I say ‘unless’ I were to discover my judgment of Lady Straeford were in error.”

  Although the earl continued to argue the point for the next half hour with his friend, Harding remained adamant. There was no dissuading him and at times he waxed eloquent in defense of the countess until Straeford finally admitted defeat and accepted the major’s condition.

  “So, when is the happy occasion?”

  Straeford blanched and looked a little foolish as he admitted, “Don’t know yet.”

  “Don’t know? But I thought that…”

  Justin shook his head negatively and waved the document in his direction. “This is a precaution. You know how much it means to me to see the line secured. I didn’t sacrifice myself for Straeford Park alone.”

  “Some sacrifice. That’s some woman you’ve taken to wife.”

  The earl did not agree or disagree with Harding’s evaluation.

  After being summoned to the library by the earl, Marisa was briskly informed that he had been made a brigadier general and would be leaving for Portugal soon. Her heart plummeted to her feet. “When are you leaving?”

  He smiled unpleasa
ntly, interpreting her question as a desire to be rid of him. “Don’t be quite so anxious for my departure, my dear. No definite date has been set as of yet.”

  “I didn’t ask because I was anxious to see you leave,” she protested, but he ignored her rebuttal.

  “I have made some provisions for the future.”

  “Provisions for the future?”

  “Yes, I have arranged for everything including our offspring.” He observed his wife’s heightened color and eagerly asked, “Is there the chance you are already with child, Marisa?”

  “I… I do not believe so… Justin.” His face fell, sending a pang of regret through her for having failed him.

  “Well, the situation could change at any time,” he continued matter-of-factly. “Therefore, I have taken the precaution of providing for my heir.”

  “I don’t understand. Precaution? What precaution?” She was instantly alert. Knowing this man as she now did, nothing would surprise her.

  Impassively he explained the condition of the will making Harding the child’s guardian.

  Marisa was relieved. “He is an excellent choice. I would gladly accept his advice.”

  He leaned back in his chair and regarded her closely, waiting for her reaction as he explained, “I don’t think you fully understand, my dear. The will states that if Harding deemed it necessary, he would have the power to rear the child himself.”

  She grew deathly pale. “Why? Whatever reason could he… would you wish to take the child… from me… its mother?”

  He clutched and twisted a pen between his fingers before replying, “There are mothers and then there are mothers, if you get my meaning.”

  “No, no I don’t!”

  “Let it suffice to say I am protecting the child.”

  “Against its mother?”

  “Precisely!”

  “Y—you are… unbelievable! Well, let me tell you, Lord Straeford, I will fight that document with every breath in my body!” She was standing defiantly before him, her chin thrust forward, her hands on her hips, and Straeford, observing her through half-closed lids, was filled with admiration for her. For some reason her attitude pleased Kim. No matter how he threatened her, she dared to challenge him again. If the situation weren’t so serious, he would have been tempted to give in to her and forget the whole matter. Instead he decided to be conciliatory.