‘Will the duel be tomorrow? Or will there be more time?’ she asked.
‘At least a day, I think. There are formalities. We must choose seconds, a location and weapons.’ When he had nothing left to remove but his shirt, he turned to look at her, braced for whatever storm of emotion might come.
‘Being honourable is surprisingly complicated,’ she said, the corner of her mouth lifting in an ironic grimace.
‘Not really.’ He frowned. She was carrying it too far if she thought that the honour of his household was a joking matter. ‘It is not the least bit complicated. Most men understand that it is wrong to cheat at cards, sharp at billiards or trick men out of their houses so they might use the land to swindle others.’
‘We Norths do not know any other way. But I will take you at your word.’ Now the irony turned to bitter sarcasm.
‘You are a North now, are you?’ he said, hands on hips.
‘I am a Wiscombe,’ she said. ‘Or at least I thought I was.’
‘I am sorry that I did not give you warning of what I meant to do,’ he said, suddenly not the least bit sorry. ‘But it had to be done.’
‘I know,’ she all but shouted back at him. ‘And it does not matter to me what you do to him. Kill him, for all I care. We will all be better off.’
He shook his head in disgust. ‘Kill him? Duelling and going to war is no different from shooting animals to you, is it? Do you have no feelings at all, that you would turn on your own kin and ask me to butcher them?’
‘Do you want me to prefer them to you?’ she said, equally disgusted. ‘Just what is it that you want from me?’
What did he want from her? ‘I expect you to show some natural, human feeling towards your own blood.’
‘Natural?’ She gasped. ‘And what does that mean to you? In my family, it is natural for a woman’s blood to sell her to a stranger to gain a house.’ She took another ragged inhalation. ‘And then to forget all about her, so she might be raped by a drunkard without so much as a by your leave.’ Now she was struggling for breath, clutching at her temples as if only her hands pressing against them kept her skull from splitting in two.
Perhaps there was no air in the room, for he could not seem to breathe, either. Rape. Why had he not suspected this? It explained her unreasonable fears, the panic and the megrims that were no mere sham to avoid responsibility.
He should have demanded answers when he’d first heard of the child. Instead, he’d believed the worst and never bothered to look for the truth. Nor had it occurred to him that she might have been even more trapped by this marriage than he had been. She’d been expected to marry the nothing that he had been, a man so unworthy that he had not even bothered to speak to her before he’d proposed. Then he’d abandoned her to her fate, assuming that she would be safe until he returned.
He had been wasting time on trivialities. The only problem in this house that mattered was right here in front of him. And he’d ignored it.
He sat down beside her, seized her by the wrists and prised her hands away from her face. She was sobbing with fear and pain, so he rubbed her temples himself, urging her to lean forward until their foreheads touched, waiting for her to relax. ‘It will be all right. Breathe, Lily. Just breathe.’ He kept his own breath slow and steady to guide her back to composure.
It was working. She soothed at the sound of his voice and copied his breathing. The furrows in her brow began to relax and her head lolled against his shoulder. ‘Thank you,’ she whispered, pressing her face into his throat like a child in need of comfort. ‘I am sorry to be so emotional. I know there was nothing else you could do. It is just...’
‘You did nothing wrong. Ever. It was I.’ He turned his face to kiss her. But even as he did it, he knew that he was that stranger she’d dreaded when she spoke of being sold. For much of the past seven years, she had kept a secret from him. His homecoming must have been a cause of fear, not a hope of salvation. Today, that would end.
He released her hands and wrapped his arms about her, nuzzling her hair. ‘Tell me what happened while I was gone.’ His mouth was pressed close to her ear, so he spoke in little more than a whisper.
‘I thought that was obvious. I lay with another man and he left me with child.’ Her brittle laugh was muffled by the linen of his shirt. ‘Of course, as you said about Miss Fellowes, there is the matter of consent to consider.’
He had all but joked about being unable to fight off that woman’s unwanted attentions. But Lily did not have the advantage of size and strength. She had been helpless.
‘Who was he?’
She gasped and tried to pull away. ‘You’re hurting me.’
He cursed himself. He had been imagining what he would do when he’d found the bastard. Without thinking, he’d tightened his grip on her. Lily, of all people, deserved the gentleness she had never been offered. He forced himself to relax, rubbing the centre of her back in a way that calmed them both. ‘No one will ever hurt you again. I will see to it. Now tell me what happened.’
‘There is really nothing to tell,’ she said. But he could feel her tremble as she gathered the nerve to speak. ‘I used to spend the evenings with my father’s guests, acting as a true hostess. One night, a man mistook common courtesy for something more.’ Her breath caught in her throat and he put his hand on her heart, breathing with her until she could regain control.
Then he said, ‘He followed you to your room?’
She shook her head. ‘It was worse than that. As an honoured guest, Father gave him the master bedroom. I did not think it would matter. The other bedrooms were full and he had to stay somewhere. I locked the connecting door. But the key was in his dresser. And he assumed...’
At the first hitch in her breathing, he kissed her until she was calm again. ‘He forced his way into your room.’
‘Worse than that,’ she whispered. ‘He carried me back here. To your bed. And the animals on the walls... So many eyes...’ She was crying in earnest, reliving the details.
It had been horrible enough to sleep here under the best of circumstances. But at the thought of her in his father’s old room, he was gripped by the sick terror that had taken him on the night before his first battle. ‘And after that, you changed the locks and the decoration,’ he finished for her.
She nodded into his shoulder. ‘I pushed the wardrobe in front of the connecting door until he was gone. Then I had the servants remove everything from the room and burn it.’
Apparently, she’d enjoyed that one small act of rebellion, for he felt her laugh. ‘They thought I was very strange. So I told them you had not liked the room and had requested the changes.’
‘Good for you,’ he said, laughing in response. ‘It was abominable.’ The thought of using it as a bridal chamber had been one of the reasons he’d postponed his own wedding night. In the end, he’d spared her nothing.
‘I had the locks changed and left the room empty for a time, claiming that I could not decide what to do with it. But then I read of your successes in the newspapers. I decided to make a space that would be worthy of you, should you ever return to me.’
She sounded so hopeful at this imagined homecoming that he felt even worse for his recent behaviour.
‘As I told you before, it was just the one time,’ she was assuring him, as if she still feared he still meant to blame her for what had happened. ‘I learned not to be so trusting. I limited my time with the guests. It was better to appear cold than to risk another incident.’
‘And your headaches?’ he said.
‘Sometimes the guests are too much for me to bear. My head hurts and I become short of breath. If I go to my room to rest, I am better in no time.’
‘You are a prisoner in your own home,’ he said, outraged. ‘You should not have to hide behind a locked door to get any peace.’
‘It is not so bad,’ she said hurriedly. ‘It is a very nice house. And I have Stewart to care for.’
There was the boy again, a continual reminder of what had happened to her. Something must be done. But for now, it was time to put the blame for the problem back where it belonged. ‘And who is Stewart’s father?’
She eyed him warily. ‘If I tell you, what do you mean to do?’
‘I will make him pay for what he did to you. When I am finished with him, he will have no life left in his body to prey upon another innocent.’
‘Before or after you fight my brother?’ she said with a sigh.
It must seem that he could not solve a problem without shedding blood. He took her hand, squeezing it and pressing it to his lips. ‘I will not have you blaming yourself for a thing that was not your fault. The man responsible will be brought to justice, one way or another. First, I will clear our house of guests, including your family, who should have protected you in my absence.’ All her father’s fine words about caring for his precious girl had had been nothing more than another trick. ‘Once that is done, I will see to your attacker.’
She gave an emphatic shake of her head. ‘You are too late for that. He is already dead. There is nothing to be done.’
She had spoken too quickly. But what reason would she have to lie, now that he knew the worst? ‘There must be something,’ he said. ‘I cannot just leave this...’ All the accolades and medals he’d earned meant nothing if he could not manage to care for his own wife. He was worthless and unworthy, just as his father had said.
‘You have done enough just by coming home safe,’ she said, lifting her head and giving him a tear-stained smile. ‘It means we have a future together. But the past is the past. It is over. Leave it,’ she whispered, touching his arm. ‘For me.’
At that slight pressure of her hand, he felt himself break. He gathered her to him again and gave her the homecoming kiss he’d imagined when first he’d left her. She was right. The time apart did not matter. There was only now and what would come.
And if he could have this moment, it was more than enough. He could live and die on the taste of her mouth, the scrape of her tongue on his teeth and the feel of her cheek against his. ‘Ask for the world and I shall get it for you,’ he said.
‘Not the world,’ she whispered back. ‘Just your trust.’ She hesitated. ‘And perhaps, one day, your love?’
‘My trust is yours, as it always should have been.’ He could not promise more than that. He’d wasted years of his life, hating the faithless seductress he was sure he’d married. But he had been wrong. The woman before him was a blameless stranger. How could he know what he truly felt for her, other than a driving need to undo his mistakes and make things right?
He kissed her again and reached to undo the buttons on her gown. He felt her tense. Yesterday, they had been in her room. But even after stripping this room to the plaster and swearing that the past did not matter, there were memories in this place that still needed to be banished. ‘You can trust me,’ he said and felt her force herself to relax.
He quickly pulled his own shirt over his head and cast it to the floor, making sure he was naked and vulnerable before asking the same of her. Then he placed her hands on the little pearl buttons, kissing her fingers for encouragement.
Slowly, she undid them and his eyes followed the widening vee of bare skin down to its point just above her navel. He traced the same path with his tongue, kissing her throat, nuzzling the insides of her breasts and finally resting his cheek against her stomach, dipping his tongue into her navel, licking and swirling.
She released a shuddering sigh and arched her back, as her hands caught in his hair, pressing him tighter to her. But she made no move to guide him lower.
The last time, he had been selfish. He had been so eager for her that he’d taken more than he’d given. The only other man who had touched her had been even worse. And now she had no experience to know what it was that she so clearly wanted.
He smiled against her stomach. Then very slowly, he raised the hem of her gown to bare her for his kiss. He slid his tongue down the rise of her belly.
She tensed again, still unsure.
He halted the progress of his kisses and stroked the delta of hair with his fingertips until she spread her trembling thighs to receive his hand. She stilled with a sigh as he eased his fingers into her wet, welcoming body. She wanted him there, inside her, as if she were more comfortable with his pleasure than she was with her own.
The response was tempting, but it was not what he wanted from her. Before she could object, he dipped his head and spread her even wider, replacing his hand with his mouth.
Her body went rigid and she answered the penetration of his tongue with a primal moan. At first, it seemed she might fight against him. But then the pleasure proved too great and she raised her hips as if offering herself to him.
He accepted the gift, steadied her with his hands and feasted, delving as deeply as he could into her to mimic his fingers. But still it was not the response from her that he sought. So he withdrew and left a lingering trail of kisses until he reached the little bead of flesh that would destroy the last of her resistance.
For a moment, her breathing stopped and he almost released her, fearing it was another attack of panic. Then, she gasped in amazement, and clutched at his hair to encourage him. She was sobbing now, sweet, happy whimpers that came faster and faster with each movement of his tongue.
His body answered, growing, ready and desperate to be consumed by her. He put his own needs from his mind, focusing on the sound of her cries until they stopped. Started again. Stopped. And released in a long, satisfied sigh.
He pulled away from her and lay back on the bed, achingly hard, closed his eyes and tried to think of anything but the taste on his tongue and the smell of musk. This was his gift to her. It was all he needed. When he opened them again, she was leaning over him.
He did not have to ask if he had pleased her. Her false smile was gone and had been replaced by one so real that her very soul seemed to shine out at him from behind her eyes. He smiled back.
Without a word, she stripped the gown over her head and dropped it beside his shirt. She was kneeling at his side, a glorious topography of soft curves, hills and valleys that he longed to explore.
But he had promised himself that her pleasure was foremost. He dragged his gaze back to her face. Her hair had come undone from its tie and framed her face in wild sherry-coloured waves. He wanted to bury his face in it and lose himself in her body.
Her eyes strayed lower, admiring his obvious need for her. Then her smile widened and she turned to straddle him, her hands on his shoulders, her damp thighs squeezing his hips.
‘You don’t have to,’ he said, his voice breaking like a green boy’s.
‘Even after yesterday, you don’t want to bother me?’ she said, teasing his body with a rock of her hips.
‘I don’t want to demand more than you wish to give,’ he said, trying not to think. ‘I want to pleasure you.’
‘Then let me have my way,’ she said, touching him, stroking him and, finally, easing her body down to cover him.
Chapter Sixteen
The next morning, Lily took breakfast in her room to avoid an embarrassing meeting with her guests who, unless they were even more stupid than they appeared, must have finally come to realise that the Norths had been playing them for fools. Perhaps she was a coward for not taking her share of the responsibility for what had been going on. She had been the hostess when it happened. But Gerry had uncovered her brother’s cheating. It was only fair that he help with consoling the victims.
She smiled. Gerry would not mind if she did not come down at all. Last night, he had gone from commanding hero to willing slave, pleasuring her until she couldn’t think. Then she’d turned the tables and r
idden him, watching triumphant as he lost control because of her. She’d had no idea that something that had once seemed so horrible could be so wonderful if it was shared with the right person.
More importantly, she had finally told him enough of the truth so he knew that she would never willingly be unfaithful to him. Perhaps it had been her imagination, but after her revelation, the suspicious shadows behind his eyes had gone and a measure of his old innocence had returned. Last night he had been a bridegroom and she had finally been a bride.
It was the beginning of the fresh start that they needed. Perhaps he did not yet love her. But when the last of the guests had departed, her love for him, and Stewart’s as well, would be enough to open the last seals on his heart.
Between them, they would make sure he forgot all about vengeance for previous wrongs, or dredging up the details of an incident she wanted to forget. It did not really matter if it was for her sake or to salve his own injured pride. There would be too many risks involved in seeking justice at this late date. Some people were above the law.
Even if anyone believed her story. It was more likely that revealing the truth would end with her own humiliation, while her attacker remained untouched. Challenging such a man might end with gaol or a hangman’s noose for the husband who sought to defend her honour. It simply was not worth the risk.
But there were other, more immediate problems to deal with. She had just set up her easel in the conservatory for her morning hour of painting when her brother arrived. Her father was close at his heels, scanning the hall for eavesdroppers before shutting the glass double doors behind him.
‘Good morning,’ she said, not looking up from her work.
‘Good?’ Ronald gave a derisive snort. ‘Do you not understand what happened last night?’
‘I was there, Ronald. Gerry caught you cheating at cards and called you out.’
‘“Gerry” is it now?’ Ronald’s voice was growing shrill. ‘He threatened to kill me and you spent another night in his bed.’
The Secrets of Wiscombe Chase Page 15
