Catherine Coulter the Sherbrooke Series Novels 6-10 (9781101562123)

by Coulter, Catherine

  “Meggie,” he said, staying where he was, which was very far away from her indeed, “what if I loved another woman and couldn’t have her, then I married you, all without telling you a thing about her?”

  Meggie stopped cold. She was shaking her head, then she stopped that too. She stared across the gloom at him. “Oh dear,” she whispered. “Oh dear.”

  “Yes,” he said. “There is that, isn’t there?”

  “I would throttle you if I found out. I would stomp you into the mud. I would shave your head and blacken your eyes, both of them. Oh dear. I hadn’t thought of the shoe on the other foot.”

  He was pleased, but he wasn’t about to let her see it. “What I did to you was bad enough—forcing you on our wedding night.”

  “No, what was worse was the last time when you just went away from me and didn’t say a single thing. That is horrid, Thomas. Please, don’t do that again. If you want to stomp me, I will allow it.”

  She’d walked into the moonlight again, and that peach thing she was wearing shimmered all the way from her breasts to the floor. He could see too much of her.

  “If I slam out of this room, I will be in the White Room again, your room.”

  “Please don’t leave me,” she said and came up to him. She didn’t touch him, just stopped an inch short and looked up at him. “Thomas, why did you marry me?”

  “Because I love you, you twit, because I believed you loved me as well.”

  “But you never said anything about love to me.”

  “No.”

  “Why?”

  He said very slowly, “Because there was just something about you, Meggie, something that made me understand how very young you were, how very innocent, untouched. You weren’t ready for that.”

  “All that young and innocent, yet you believed I loved you? That it wasn’t some sort of schoolgirl infatuation?”

  “I sometimes hate the way your brain works.”

  “So does my family.” She sighed. “There is so much going on here at Pendragon. There is the someone who doesn’t want me here, enough to try to kill me. Then there’s you, Thomas. You don’t know whether you want to strangle me or kiss me or just slam out of the room.”

  “If you are giving me a choice, then I would prefer to kiss you.” He had to touch her breasts, had to mold his fingers around her through that satin, and so he did and he closed his eyes as he cupped her in his palms, as his fingers roved over her.

  He felt her pushing against his hands, and he opened his eyes. He smiled down at her. “I believe you want me as badly as I want you.”

  “More,” Meggie said. “You taught me, Thomas, and you taught me well.” She went up on her tiptoes and kissed his mouth. “Please open to me,” she whispered and he did, and all his heat, all the strength of him, all his passion and the immense hurt she’d dished out to him, it was all in that kiss, in the way he held her so tightly, she believed her ribs would crack, and then she just didn’t care.

  The huge old bed was only ten feet away. When he lay her on the Aubusson carpet that was so threadbare she felt pricks of cold air touching her shoulder blades, he forced himself to stop, just for a moment, and said, his voice thick and deep and guttural, “I want this to be hard and fast, Meggie.”

  Meggie couldn’t think of a single word, she was thrumming, mewling like her racing cats she was so excited, she felt so very urgent, it was beyond anything she could begin to understand. She grabbed him around his neck and pulled him down to her. “Please, now, Thomas. Now.”

  He was a wild man, all over her, not a touch of gentleness, and Meggie hummed with power and urgency. She also hummed with something else, but she didn’t know what it was.

  Meggie would swear that the gloomy room lightened, that the air itself lifted and fluttered when she yelled to those beams in the darkened ceiling. But he wasn’t through, bless him, and within a very short time, she was breathing hard again, beside herself, her hands all over him, pulling and caressing and hitting, and her cries heaved out of her mouth against his shoulder.

  “I’m going to die now,” she said, “a happy woman,” and she didn’t move a single muscle.

  He grunted beside her.

  “I felled you.”

  He grunted again, and she would swear she felt a smile on his mouth before he kissed her hair and collapsed again.

  “Will you give me another chance, Thomas?”

  “Your timing is excellent,” he said, and was asleep, sprawled naked on the Aubusson carpet, a smile on his face.

  Meggie’s brain began to function again only when she realized she was shivering from cold. She came up on her elbow over her husband, looked down into his hard face, not so hard now in sleep, and said, “Thomas, how am I going to get you into bed?”

  He grunted, then opened a dark eye and looked up into her shadowed face. “If I really concentrate on this, I can move.”

  “What will I do,” she said, lightly caressing his shoulder, kissing his face, light nipping, sweet kisses, “when you are an old man and we end up on the carpet?”

  “You will just roll me up in the carpet and leave me be.”

  She laughed even as he scooped her into his arms and carried her into the White Room. She kissed his shoulder, whispered against his neck, “Are you willing to let me perhaps kiss your belly the way you kiss mine?”

  His breath whooshed out and he ran through the adjoining door, nearly knocked Meggie in the head when he ran too close to the wall. He was laughing until her hair cascaded over his belly and she touched him with her mouth. He nearly heaved himself off the bed. Nothing could be better than this, he thought, and nearly expired. Dear God, her mouth.

  His last thought before he fell into a blessedly numb sleep was that his wife, the vicar’s daughter, would come to love him. He was smart and he was persistent. He was also determined.

  The following morning, however, Thomas wasn’t smiling.

  30

  “YOU DAMNED IDIOT, you’ve been home only a fortnight and you’ve already done this?”

  William didn’t feel well, he really didn’t, and here was his too-sober half-brother, his voice black as the misery William was feeling, each word staccato, colder than an Irish winter morning, slamming right into his ear. He wanted to bolt behind the wainscoting. He wanted to seal up his ears until he knew his head wouldn’t explode.

  Thomas said, “Teddy MacGraff was here, fists at the ready, his face so red I was afraid he would fall over with apoplexy, that or come up here to your bedchamber and wring your damned neck.”

  “Let him,” William said. “I want to die.”

  “Damn you, you’re a man, get up and face this!”

  Thomas jerked his half-brother from his bed and dragged him across his bedchamber to his dressing table, where there sat a pitcher filled of water, waiting for soap and his razor.

  Thomas poured the water over William’s head. William howled, flopped about, but it didn’t matter.

  Thomas let him slide to the floor, then called for his valet. “Wring the little sot out, Dickie. When you have poured enough coffee down his throat, bring him to me in the estate room. Oh, and don’t let him out of your sight, he’s liable to slink out of here and try to hide.”

  He heard Dickie say in a far-too-kind voice, “Come along, Master William. It’s not a good thing you’ve done and you’re in for it. Best face it like a man.”

  William moaned.

  Thomas was shaking his head, wondering how he was going to handle this one, when he nearly ran into Meggie, who was dancing down the corridor, humming an arpeggio. He grabbed her arm to keep her upright. She squeaked in surprise, looked up at him, blushed—it was that blush that alerted him—then gave him a fat smile, and he knew, knew all the way to his belly, exactly what she was thinking, saw it clearly in his mind. She was kneeling over him and her mouth was on him. And her hands. And the feel of her hair on his belly. Oh God. He couldn’t bear it. He was shaking.

  “Good morning.” He k
issed her hard and fast, then straightened, took two steps away from her. When she reached for him, he said, “Don’t, Meggie, I can do nothing about it, at least for the next couple of hours. William has gotten another girl pregnant. Her father came here, fully prepared to send William all the way to Botany Bay. In a boat without a paddle. Perhaps without a boat as well.”

  “That’s it, Thomas. I’m going to kill the little sod, right now.”

  He managed to grab her before she ran around him. She was breathing hard.

  “No, sweetheart, you can’t.”

  “Of course I can. Just watch me.”

  “I mean, since I’m the magistrate and I would be a witness to the crime, I would have to take you to the gaol in Dublin.”

  But Meggie had already moved ahead. “But how can William have gotten another girl pregnant? He’s only been here a matter of weeks.”

  Thomas sighed. “The little sod was home before.”

  “This is just too much, Thomas. Let me go. I will get a gun. I will shoot him in the feet, make him crawl away from Pendragon. You won’t have to be a witness and arrest me.”

  “No, Meggie, keep away from William. If you would, please ask Aunt Libby to come to the drawing room. It is time that she faced what William is, what he has done, what he’s obviously done every chance he’s gotten since he was old enough to figure out what to do.”

  “Aunt Libby doesn’t know about any of the other girls? She doesn’t know what he’s like?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t see how she could. William certainly would never tell her, you can wager your last groat on that, and I’ve kept quiet, protecting her. But now this cannot continue. She needs to know. If she has any control, any influence over him, now’s the time she used it.”

  “I’ll fetch her, Thomas.”

  At least, Meggie thought, watching her husband stride down the corridor, head down, hopefully planning punishments for William, he wasn’t thinking about Jeremy.

  Jeremy. Meggie paused a moment, and blinked. It was strange. For the first time since she’d known him, Jeremy wasn’t all that clear in her head. How odd that she could be so very fickle.

  Odd but good. She had honestly believed he was her world, believed that when he had married Charlotte that her world had come to an end, at least all the fun part of it.

  But no longer.

  She found Aunt Libby in her bedchamber, humming as she carefully selected a sweetmeat and popped it into her mouth. She closed her eyes as she chewed. Meggie also saw that Libby was writing something. She quickly slid the piece of foolscap beneath several books—both of them, Meggie saw, were Lord Byron. Now, what was this all about?

  Meggie hated this room. It was as dark and dismal as the rest of Pendragon, except, of course, for Madeleine’s room.

  Meggie looked around as she said, “Are you certain, Aunt Libby, that you don’t wish me to make your bedchamber a bit more cheerful? Perhaps more light could come in if we took away those dark draperies. Thomas and I will be going to Dublin soon to visit the furniture warehouses. You could accompany us, if you would like to.”

  Libby just shook her head, her smile never faltering. “Isn’t it a beautiful morning, Meggie? Would you care for a sweetmeat? The almond ones are exquisite. Niles tells me they have no substance to them at all so I can eat as many as I wish without gaining flesh. As for having more light in this room, goodness no. A woman of a certain age looks much fresher if there isn’t too much ghastly sunlight showing all the imperfections, don’t you agree?”

  “Yes,” Meggie said and stared at Libby. She knew to her toes that Libby had been with Lord Kipper. She recognized that very self-satisfied look, that air of utter complacency, that sparkle that came from somewhere in the inside that made one want to hum and smile and fold one’s hands across one’s lap and do nothing at all except enjoy the sweet flow of life. She’d seen it on her own face when she’d looked in the mirror that morning. If William weren’t such a rotter, she’d still have that smile on her face, damn him.

  “Thank you, but I’m not all that fond of almonds, Aunt Libby.”

  Libby stopped humming. She rose slowly, shook out her skirts. “What is wrong, Meggie?”

  “It’s William.”

  “Oh my God—my precious boy is hurt? Someone has harmed him? Oh no. Don’t keep me waiting, Meggie, spit it out.”

  “No, your precious boy is just fine. However, he has done a very bad thing.”

  “Not just a simple bad thing? A very bad thing? That’s impossible. He is delightful. He is perfect, or nearly so. Now, what is this all about?”

  “Come downstairs with me and I will let Thomas tell you.”

  “Thomas is a man. Thus he will be rough and not at all conciliatory. You will tell me.”

  “William has evidently gotten a local girl pregnant. Her father was here and quite enraged. He wanted to kill William. Thomas told the father that he would see to things, and so he will.”

  “Oh, is that all?” Libby heaved a huge sigh of relief and sat herself down again. “Thomas can give the father a bit of money, tell him boys will be boys, and all will be well. You frightened me, Meggie. It wasn’t well done of you. Do tell Mrs. Black to bring me a bit of tea. Thank you.”

  “But, ma’am—”

  “Go away, Meggie.”

  Meggie went. Pendragon Castle—it sounded so very wonderfully gothic, so very mysterious, filled with romantic legend. It sounded as if ancient memories and perhaps a sprinkling of magic could make their way into your bones if you lived here.

  Surely Pendragon Castle hadn’t expected to have such a strange concatenation of people living in it, giving it not a whit of mystery, romance, or magic. What would future generations believe permeated the castle walls after this crew departed?

  Thomas was pacing the estate room. He looked harassed. He looked to be talking to himself.

  Meggie said from the doorway, “Aunt Libby doesn’t care. She doesn’t think it’s anything at all. She says you’ll just give the father a bit of money and that will be that.”

  Thomas looked heavenward in utter weariness and said, “Why am I not surprised?” He sighed, plowed his fingers through his hair, which made her smile even through the dark cloud of misery William had brought into the castle.

  Meggie said thoughtfully, “I suppose you could have him gelded, like a horse.”

  “Now, there’s a good thought. Who would we get to do it?”

  “The girl’s father,” Meggie said without any hesitation at all.

  Thomas walked over to her and pulled her against him. “This is a damnable situation,” he said against her hair. Her hair—it smelled of some sort of flower, he didn’t know which. He found himself rubbing his nose in her hair, realized what he was doing, and pulled back.

  “I am going to tell William that he will marry the girl, if, that is, she and her father will have him. I will also give her a dowry. And I will tell William if he doesn’t change his colors and become a decent husband, I will have him join the King’s navy. What do you think? I will also cut him off without a cent. That will doubtless provide his biggest incentive to keep his male parts at home with his wife.”

  “William doesn’t have any money? From his mother?”

  “Oh no, my father kicked her out not long after William was born, didn’t give her a sou. I have paid for Oxford, for tutors.”

  “That’s a wonderful idea, Thomas. It should keep him in line.” She went up on her tiptoes and kissed his mouth, running her fingertips over his black, black eyebrows. “If I were the girl’s father, I’m not so sure I’d want William as a son-in-law.”

  “I think Teddy MacGraff will be quite pleased. He’ll see William as being completely in his power, which he will be.”

  She thought about that a moment. “Is Teddy MacGraff big and tough?”

  “Very.”

  “Let’s do it. We can announce it this evening.”

  “Perhaps we can even tell Aunt Libby that she will short
ly be a grandmother. It will rile her no end to have a grandchild before Madeleine.” He laughed.

  “Good heavens, why?”

  “She is very vain, just like my mother. Only thing is, Libby is younger than my mother by two years. Yes, my mother is going to be delighted.”

  Lord Kipper came to dinner, as he did nearly every evening since he and Libby had become involved in an affaire. At the end of the meal that still wasn’t very good, even though Cook swore she’d followed Mary Rose’s recipe for the stewed mutton down to the dash of thyme, Thomas rose and tapped his fork on his wineglass to gain everyone’s attention. “William,” he said to his younger brother, “you look less dead this evening than you did this morning.”

  William raised hopeful eyes at the sound of his half-brother’s jovial voice. “Yes, I am fine now, Thomas.”

  “You will be more than fine very shortly. Actually, very shortly you will be a married man. You will wed Jenny MacGraff right here next Sunday. You and Jenny will live here, of course. I will provide Jenny a dowry.”

  With surprising agility, Libby jumped to her feet, nearly knocking her chair over she came up so quickly. “You cannot mean this, Thomas. It is absurd. The idiot girl’s pregnant, who cares? It happens all the time. Give Teddy MacGraff a couple of pounds, he’ll go away happy.”

  Madeleine said, “Thomas, Libby’s right. This can’t be the best way to solve this problem. The MacGraffs are nothings—nobodies! Goodness, Teddy MacGraff is a merchant! Oh, wait a moment—goodness me, can you believe it? Libby, you will be a grandmother! Ah, what a terrible thing, just terrible.”

  “No, I will not be a bloody grandmother! I do not recognize this child as William’s. Indeed, I imagine he isn’t the father at all. She drew him in, seduced him. He is a boy, incapable of producing a child.”

  Thomas laughed, he just couldn’t help himself. He looked over at William, who was pale as the tablecloth, his fingers clutched around his wineglass, his eyes glazed.

  Thomas said, “Yes, you will indeed be a grandmother, Aunt Libby. And yes, William is the father. The wedding will take place next Sunday right here at Pendragon or—please listen to me, William. Are you?”