The Stranger She Married (Rogue Hearts Series)

by Hatch, Donna

  Cole frowned.

  “He seemed rather shady, if ye know what I mean. Do ye want me t’ nab ‘im?”

  “No, do nothing yet. Thank you for letting me know. She has an uncle that might be concerned for her. I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about.” But Willard Palmer knew where Alicia’s husband had taken her to live. Why send someone to ask about them?

  His instincts whispered danger.

  ****

  One evening, Alicia sat with her husband in the darkened garden. Completely enigmatic, he sat with his head lifted upward to gaze up at the starry heavens made glorious by a cloudless sky.

  “Did you ever study astronomy?” he asked softly.

  “No. I know a little about mythology, so some of the stories you told me of the gardens are familiar, but all I can find in the sky are the North Star and the Big Dipper.”

  “See that cluster of stars?” He leaned near, his chest brushing against her shoulder, his arm reaching across her, as he traced a group of stars with his gloved finger in the far northern sky. “That is Andromeda. There are her arms, this is her belt, and her legs. Pegasus is here nearby.”

  A light, masculine scent permeated his cloak and she breathed it deeply, invoking an awareness of him on a new and elemental level. To her surprise, she did not recoil.

  “When did you become interested in the stars?” she asked.

  “At Cambridge. I was good at mathematics but I loved astronomy, probably because of my professor.” His soft chuckle rumbled. “He was a bit unconventional, and quite eccentric, but he instilled a great love of astronomy in his students.”

  “Tell me about Andromeda.”

  “Her name is Greek for ‘Ruler over Men.’ She is also referred to as ‘The Chained Maiden.’ She was the daughter of Cepheus and Cassiopeia, king and queen of Aethiopia. Cassiopeia made the mistake of boasting that her beauty equaled the beautiful Nereids of the sea.”

  Her husband’s soft, muffled voice, as he painted the characters, swept Alicia away. “Of course, such a claim drew down the vengeance of the gods. Poseidon, king of the sea, sent a sea-monster to destroy man and beast. The only way to save the kingdom was for the king to sacrifice his daughter, Andromeda, to the monster, so they chained her to a rock on the shore. She was saved by Perseus who slew the monster and freed her. Though she was promised to another, Perseus married her and they had many children. They are supposedly the parents of the Persians. After Andromeda died, the goddess Athena placed her in the constellations near Perseus and Cassiopeia.”

  When he had finished the story, Alicia smiled ruefully. “The Greeks had a rather dim view of their gods.”

  “They were pagans who saw God, or rather, gods, as selfish, vain creatures who were the cause of human misery. What they failed to recognize is that humanity causes its own misery.”

  “You are quite a philosopher. And a scholar. An astronomer. What else do you do?”

  His shapeless face turned toward her. “Less than I once did.” His tone was flat, betraying his despair.

  Was she the cause of it? She hung her head. She had the power to offer him comfort, companionship, acceptance; things that he surely did not receive elsewhere. Others no doubt saw only his mask without seeing the intelligent, gentle man underneath.

  The servants treated him with respect, even affection. The head housekeeper, Mrs. Hodges, loved him as a member of the family. But then, she had known him as a child.

  Alicia’s eyes strayed to him, but she could distinguish nothing of his thoughts or mood. She tried again to imagine him as he had been before his injuries; whole, complete, but she failed utterly. “Are there any portraits of you as a younger man? You know, before…?”

  His cowled head turned toward her. “Not here.”

  “I try to imagine your face, but I have nothing upon which to base it. Are you dark or fair?”

  “Dark. I assure you, you don’t want to see my face. Would you care to try the maze in the morning?”

  His obvious desire to redirect her inspired pity for this gentle man who’d lost so much. How would it be to no longer desire to show—or see—one’s own face?

  “A maze?” She imagined becoming hopelessly lost within a labyrinth of green.

  As if reading her thoughts, he put his hand over hers. “I will guide you in and out safely, rest assured. And I will show you the secret so that you will never become lost inside it.”

  “Very well.” She withdrew her hand, not quite able to bear his touch just yet.

  The following morning, he kept his promise. The maze proved more interesting than she expected. With a bright morning sun shining down on them, he led her confidently through it. Inside the wall of hedges, it was a world of quiet stillness, peaceful rather than suffocating. When they emerged in the center, she found a marble fountain falling into a round raised pool filled with water lilies. Frogs croaked in a rough chorus. Mist from the falling water dampened her face.

  He leaned his cane against a stone bench and took her hand. He tugged gently on her hand as he stepped closer, and slid his arms around her. The contact sent waves of alarm racing through her veins. She tensed, but he did not demand anything beyond holding her. He stood silently, his arms around her, lightly pressing her against him. She had expected the soft body of a near invalid. Instead, he felt solid. When he made no further move, her fear faded—just a little—and she let him pull her in tighter. After her initial fear abated, she rested her head lightly against him. His heart thumped underneath her ear. It somehow reassured her that he was human and not a beast.

  “Is it me you fear, or men in general?” As he spoke, the vibrations rumbled against her head in a comforting cadence.

  She moistened her lips and tried to organize her feelings into coherent words. “I fear the act men desire. And which husbands require.”

  Wordlessly, he held her. It wasn’t terrifying. It was… nice. The waters of the fountain fell merrily into the pool, and birds sang and flirted among the hedges.

  He broke the silence again. “Did someone force himself upon you?”

  With startling clarity, the humiliation and terror she suffered at Mr. Braxton’s hands flooded over her. She realized she was trembling when his arms tightened around her.

  “One of my suitors tried to, but I fought him off. He did not rob me of my virtue, but I learned enough about it that I…am reluctant to do that. I know it’s your right, but—”

  “Shhh. I will never do anything that you will wish to fight off.”

  “But someday you will—”

  “It’s completely different when a woman is with a man who cares about her, and who desires to please her. There is no place for fear or hurt.”

  His words, though gently spoken, failed to reassure her. Instead, they dredged up his emotionless mask in place of Mr. Braxton’s face and the sick terror she had experienced. Here in the maze, they were completely alone. There would be no way of escaping him if he should try to take her here.

  A quiver ran through her body and she pushed herself away from him. “May we go back, now? Please?”

  He released her and stepped back but his hands fisted at his sides. He drew a breath, exhaled, and spoke with controlled softness. “Yes. The secret is to turn left at the first junction, pass the next entrance, and then turn right. The pattern repeats. If you do that, you will come back out where we began outside the maze.” He retrieved his cane and indicated that she proceed in front of him.

  She led the way, with his reassurances at each intersection, until they stepped out into the gardens. Once they were on a familiar path, he made a slight bow.

  “I need to attend to business, Alicia, but I will join you after dinner.”

  “Of course, my lord.”

  He turned and left without uttering another word. She drew a breath and sat on a cool bench.

  That night, after she undressed, she stood in her boudoir looking up at the stars. A shooting star burst across the eastern sky and faded quickly.

>   Like many of her dreams.

  CHAPTER 18

  Cole read through the columns of figures that sat on his desk. Several of his investments had paid off handsomely and his solicitor had sent him the latest set of figures and proposals.

  His steward had brought a stack of papers, including a request for the cooper to attend one of his tenant’s houses, and a suggestion to raise the rents to help cover a rash of repairs many of the houses needed lately. Cole approved the use of the cooper and rejected the rent increase. Then he wrote a letter to a man purported to be a genius at improving crop yield, and asked him to come tour the estate.

  He sat back and rubbed his bleary eyes, glancing at the clock on the mantle. It was not yet dinnertime, but already it felt like midnight. Alicia Palmer, now the Lady Amesbury, had robbed him of sleep many nights. If he didn’t work so hard at wearing himself out riding, fencing, and boxing, he might never sleep.

  A letter sat to one side of the desk, fluttering gently in the breeze from the opened window. Aunt Livy had written, asking how he fared and expressing a desire to visit. As much as he enjoyed their company, he did not wish to entertain them at present.

  Restlessness tugged at him and he had to remind himself that he needed to stay here. Always before, he fled back to London or other haunts after the briefest of stays here in the country house, but this time, he needed to remain and take care of long-overdue duties.

  In an attempt to restore his health, his father now resided with the youngest Amesbury son, Christian, in Bath. As the heir, it was time Cole assumed responsibility of caring for the family estate.

  He wrote back to Aunt Livy, inventing wonderful lies about his happiness and told her he would see her in London this Season if he decided to go. After he finished his correspondence, he leaned back in his chair, wondering again if he had made a colossal mistake in arranging Alicia’s marriage to Nicholas.

  How badly he wanted her!

  Stephens poked his head in the door and grinned. Cole scowled at him, which only broadened the offensively happy expression.

  “Wipe off that idiotic grin, you half-wit,” Cole grumbled.

  His valet tsked, sounding annoyingly like Aunt Livy. “The heat makes you irritable. Perhaps you need to go enjoy the fresh air. Cool off.”

  “Perhaps I need to thrash a cheeky valet again.”

  Stephens chuckled. “Aye, perhaps.”

  Cole rose and thrust several missives into Stephens’ hands. “See that these are posted.”

  Stephens eyed Cole’s clothes with a frown. “I just pressed that and already it’s rumpled.”

  “I don’t need a nursemaid.”

  Cole went outside and rode André to the fields where the thoroughbred trained. He listened with interest to everything the trainer said to him, and admired his new thoroughbred. Cole watched the fine lines of his newest acquisition as he and his jockey flew past them in graceful strides.

  Without any warning, the horse stumbled and went down in a spray of dirt and turf. The horse rolled over, screaming, with the jockey underneath him.

  Stunned, Cole stood frozen for an instant before he snapped into action. Yelling for someone to bring the doctor, he sprinted to the scene of the disaster and fell to his knees in front of the motionless young jockey.

  He touched the jockey. “Adair? Can you hear me?”

  The young man breathed, but his face was pale and his forehead bled. His eyes remained closed. Cole began running his hand over the lad’s limbs, checking for other injuries.

  The trainer arrived breathlessly. “Adair?”

  “He’s breathing,” Cole said. “See to the horse.”

  The head groom dashed to the thoroughbred. The horse rolled over and struggled to his feet. He walked with a limp. Cole returned his attention to the jockey. He found at least one broken bone in Adair’s arm and, he couldn’t be sure, but possibly a few ribs. Cole shaded the boy, and tried to assuage his fears and confusion when he awoke. It seemed an eternity before the doctor arrived.

  The jockey would make a full recovery. The bones had been reset and he would require a long rest.

  However, the thoroughbred was so badly injured that he might never race again. He’d have to be put out to pasture for an indeterminate amount of time.

  Cole took the news in stoic silence, nodded, and went back out to the course. The trainer squatted near the scene of the fall examining the ground.

  “What caused it?” Cole asked.

  The trainer’s grave, grief-stricken face turned toward him. “A mere divot.”

  Heartsick, Cole nodded, arose and went for a long walk. He suddenly desperately needed to be with female companionship.

  ****

  Alicia sat reading in Poseidon’s garden, enjoying the air and the bright sunshine. The crunch of footsteps drew her attention. She nearly dropped her book. Wearing an impeccable suit, a self-mocking smile tugging his mobile lips, Cole Amesbury approached. Her memory had failed to duplicate this devastatingly handsome man. His long-legged stride brought his lean, muscular frame to her before she was ready to face him.

  She jumped to her feet, sending her book tumbling to the ground, and clutched at her heart in a vain effort to still its traitorous thumping.

  His smile broadened, turned smug. “Could it be that you are happy to see me?”

  “Absolutely not!” she replied with as much venom as she could muster. “I was simply surprised.”

  She picked up her book, dusted it off and carefully closed it. When she felt composed enough, she allowed herself to look at him and tried to resist admiring his perfect, patrician features, and the way the sunlight glinted on his dark hair, and the broad, strong lines of his body. A difficult task.

  She moistened her lips. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company, my lord?”

  His grin widened. “Since we are cousins, I believe it would be quite appropriate for you to call me Cole.”

  Sitting quickly before her knees gave out, she pressed her lips together and lifted her chin. “I pity my husband for having you as a cousin.”

  He laughed, which only intensified her heart’s fluttering. “Well, you know what they say, ‘you can pick your friends but not your relations.’ However, we are a bit of both.” Exuding latent sensuality, he sat down on the bench next to her, a languorous smile curving his mouth. His gaze traveled over her figure while her cheeks heated under his openly appreciative assessment. “You’re looking well. There’s color to your cheeks and you have filled out. Very nicely. I see marriage agrees with you.”

  “He… is good to me.” She wished that the bench were longer so that he would not be seated so near.

  He tilted his head to one side. “‘Good’ to you. He doesn’t make you blissfully happy, though. Less than satisfying as a man, is he?”

  She glared. “That’s a terrible thing to say!”

  “It’s true, isn’t it?”

  She opened her mouth and then closed it. Did his eyes have to be so blue? She rose and took a few steps away to put some distance between them, and tried to calm her ridiculous heart. It was maddening the way her senses throbbed when he was near.

  “It is not appropriate for us to discuss this,” she said primly.

  “Oh, I think it is. Actually, it is the reason I came see you.” He arose and followed her.

  Incredulous, she stared. “You jest.”

  “I have come to ask if you’re ready to leave that scarred cripple for a real man who can satisfy all your needs.”

  She gasped. “How dare you!”

  Those sapphire eyes bored into hers with an intensity that contradicted the lazy grin on his face. He prowled nearer like a dangerous feline stalking its prey, filling her with his presence, his scent. “You don’t really want him. You probably haven’t even consummated the marriage.”

  “How dare you!”

  “Am I wrong?”

  She spluttered. “It’s no concern of yours.”

  “It does concern me. I h
ave come to rescue you from this farce of a marriage. We could leave the country. Go to the continent. No one would ever know of your first mistake.”

  Her eyes blazed. “You are conceited! You assume that I would ever want to be with you, but you are very wrong. I wouldn’t have you if you were the last man alive!”

  A slow smile spread over his lips. “So, you do not claim any loyalty to him, just a healthy hatred of me. That’s all right. The opposite of love is apathy, not hate. Your passion could be channeled into a more useful activity.” He lightly traced his fingers along her cheek.

  Stunned at how delicious his touch felt, she stepped back. “Your lifestyle of debauchery has no place here.”

  His eyes darkened with desire, his lazy grin turning sultry. “He isn’t even a whole man, is he?”

  “I don’t know if he’s whole or—” she broke off, mortified. She had said too much. She put her hands over her burning cheeks.

  His smile broadened gleefully and he pounced on her words. “It’s not him, it’s you! You have rejected him and locked him out of your chambers. If I know Nicholas, he isn’t the type of man who would force his advances.” Determination smoldered beneath his lazy, unconcerned exterior. “If he’s so repulsive that you won’t let him into your bed, then leave with me. I’ll make you forget all about your first so-called marriage, sham that it is.”

  “Why you…of all the aggravating, underhanded … disloyal … immoral….”

  His knowing laughter snapped her mouth closed. The dratted man had perfect knowledge of his effect on her. He neared, his handsome face, his strong body, his masculinity all stirred her awareness in an alarming manner. Like a predator, he advanced, his meaning clear. She backed away until backed against the unforgiving trunk of a tree.

  A slight smile touched his sensitive mouth as he rested one arm on the trunk beside her shoulder and leaned toward her. “Come away with me, Alicia.”

  Her senses filled with his potency, his scent, the desire burning in his eyes. He was wholly male and he desired her. She drew in a ragged breath as trepidation and something else she could not name shot through her. Frightened and ashamed at his power over her, but more angry with her response to him, she cast about for a lifeline and then channeled her emotions toward something else entirely.