by Jo Goodman
Jericho pretended to be aghast, then under her hard stare he said sheepishly, "On occasion."
"I imagine you have a talent for that, also."
"Regrettably so. The money I have won has been put into a respectable London residence, and Drew and his friends present a rather admirable, though somewhat rough, appearance as my servants. The house is fairly crowded with help, what with wives and all. I'm afraid they find it all a bit of a lark, even while they know the seriousness of the venture."
"They are trustworthy?"
"Infinitely. Do not concern yourself on that score." Jericho rubbed Rae's calf lightly through the sheet. "I have established myself as a regular in some of the gaming halls and find myself much sought after. I think it is the mystery they like, for I am reticent to discuss myself, and it intrigues the others. There are bets in the books that I am recently returned from India where I made my fortune, and I do nothing to dissuade the speculation. I allude to a country estate in the north, and no one has bothered to ask for specifics. As long as my notes are good, and they have been proven to be so, everyone is well enough satisfied."
"But Stanhope," Rae persisted, "what has it all to do with Stanhope?"
"I am gambling for Newbrough's notes, of course."
Rae realized he thought it explained everything, but she felt all at sea. "So?"
"Dearest rattlebrain," Jericho said patiently, "Newbrough's gambling debts are a veritable mountain of paper spread far afield. Each debt is not so large by itself, but the total is staggering. No one has pressured to collect because it is generally believed he is good for the blunt. If anyone other than me knew the amount of his outstanding debts, he would be barred from playing. That would not suit my purpose, for I want to play cards with Newbrough, his notes against Stanhope. He must take the wager, because he knows if I choose to collect he will be ruined. If he turns me down he becomes a pariah. Once I have Stanhope, I will have the duke, for it is known he covets some of Newbrough's prime horseflesh. That's where I was headed today when I stopped here for lunch. I want a peek at Stanhope's stables."
"How long will it be before you possess the bulk of the notes?"
"Two months at most. I will find no shortage of players once word gets out that I am only wagering on Newbrough's debts. He'll hear about it; there is no way he cannot, and no doubt he will try to win some back, but I intend to move quickly. It would help my play if I knew you were safe in my London home."
She could not help but smile at the appeal in his voice. "As your servant or your mistress?"
"As my wife."
It was the last thing she expected to hear. She buried her face in her hands and began to cry.
"Ah, Red, don't do that. Please." She simply sobbed harder. Jericho hauled her into his arms and lent her his shoulder. "Here. Look at this." Fumbling a bit, he unbuttoned his jacket and reached inside, waving a piece of paper in front of her. "This is a special license. We can be married anytime. If you recall, we talked about this on the ship. Why are you crying?"
She knuckled her eyes, wiped tear tracks from her cheeks with a comer of the sheet, and took a deep, steadying breath. "When we spoke of marriage on the ship I did not imagine our lives would still be influenced by the duke. Foolish of me, I suppose, but I pictured us living in comfortable anonymity until someone from the landing arrived for us. I did not think things would become so complicated."
"Complicated how? What could be simpler than marrying me?"
"Nothing. But would it alter your plans for the duke?"
"No."
"And it would not alter mine. I want to stay at Linfield until this thing is at an end."
"I cannot credit what I'm hearing."
"I am not going to let you risk your life in a duel if there is another way to stop him. I will not be shut up in some fashionable London dwelling, twiddling my thumbs, while you are at Linfield squaring off at twenty paces."
Because Jericho knew that he did not want to duel with Nigel in London, as it would bring unwanted attention, he had always thought the event would take place at Linfield. He hated the idea of Rae's being anywhere near when it happened. He wanted her away from the duke, and in this he would not be gainsaid. He grasped her wrists and gave her a small shake, as if to bring her to her senses. "Red, come with me."
She shook her head, biting her lip to keep from wincing at his hurtful grip. "I would marry you today, Jericho, but I must return to Linfield tonight with Nancy and Jack. Do you not think it would cause a stir if I simply disappeared? Oh, I am not important enough to be searched for, and the duke would not know I was gone, but it would cause comment among the staff. Nancy and Jack will remember you when you arrive at Linfield."
"What of it?"
"Jericho, I had to explain the circumstances of being abducted by Sam Judge in some way. They think I was a servant at the landing. They know I have a connection with Ashley. If I did not return this evening, you would be astonished at how easily Nancy would determine I left with you, and her speculation, fact or fiction, is not something that would aid our cause. Should that reach the duke's ears, you would find yourself out in the cold."
"I think you are making much of nothing."
"I think I am being prudent."
Jericho's laugh was joyless. He took Rae by her upper arms and sat her away from him. Then he got off the bed and moved to the window that faced the river, staring out at the white and barren landscape until his eyes fairly burned from the brightness. In his hands he held the special license, and his fingers shredded the paper into tiny pieces that fluttered to his feet like so many flakes of snow. Behind him Rae's harsh sob made no impact. He felt helpless. Surely there was something he could do to make Rae aware of the danger of her position.
Coming to a decision, he jerked off his jacket and tossed it on the chair that had Rae's damp dress draped over it, then he turned the full force of his bitter stare on Rahab. "You've run wild all your life, Red, and you've been given free rein by your father and brothers for so long that you don't know the meaning of prudent. Every scrape you've been in, there has been some man at your elbow to pull you to safety. Never have you been subjected to the full consequences of your foolish behavior. I extracted you from the dangerous, deadly game you played at Wolfe's. Salem's timely arrival saved you from becoming my whore, and make no mistake, that's what you would have been, because I thought you a spy. You acted without caution or discretion when you told Sam Judge you were Ashley, and you paid for it with your abduction and nearly with your life. A simple footman saw to your safety that time.
"I have had enough, Rahab. I will not be taken in by your bravado or your swaggering airs simply because you know how to wield a dagger and shoot a pistol. You are a woman and ill-equipped to pretend you are a match for someone like Nigel Lynne. If you are found doing anything untoward at Linfield, you will have no defense. No servant will lift a finger to help you. Perhaps Nigel will not have you killed immediately upon discovering you are a McClellan, but he will use you. Think how much delight he would find in setting you up as his mistress, knowing how it would shame you and hurt your family.
"Does the thought of lying with the duke have some appeal for you? I understand he is between mistresses right now and has a vacant house not far from St. James Park."
Rae was sitting up very straight, her legs curled beneath her, anger born of hurt and fear in every line of her body. Her eyes glistened, but there were no tears. Two bright spots of color stood out on her cheeks, but the rest of her face was very nearly the shade of the sheet that was wrapped around her.
"Does it please you to speak so vilely to me?"
Jericho's eyes narrowed. "Yes," he fairly hissed. "Yes, it does! Do you know why?" He saw Rae's head give a little jerk backward at his tone. "Because I want to throttle you. No, I shall be more specific," he said with deadly calm, advancing on the bed. "I want—" he paused. His foot struck the pile of Rae's discarded clothes and he saw the wooden dagger. He picked it up and hande
d it to her, slapping the hilt in the palm of her hand. "Use it, Red. Show me how you will stop the duke when he surprises you rifling his secret drawer," he taunted.
Rahab dropped the knife. "No. I don't have to prove anything to you. You've seen me use it before. I killed a man, remember?"
"I do. But do you?"
Rae put her fingers to her pounding temples and shut her eyes. It was enough answer for Jericho.
"You don't. You still can't recall what it is like to feel the end of your knife strike flesh and bone. Your insides don't crawl at the memory of burying steel into warm muscle or the blossoming of blood on a chest as you extract your blade. You think this is a game because you can't remember when it was real!" Roughly he pulled her left hand from her temple and thrust the dagger into her palm, holding her hand around the hilt until she gripped it herself. "Now use it. Show me how you will keep the duke out of your bed when he decides he wants you!"
She shook her head, the ache behind her eyes nearly blinding her. "No!"
"Dammit, use it!"
She thrust weakly at him, and Jericho merely stepped back from the bed to elude her.
"You'll have to do better than that. The duke will laugh at that show of protest. Mayhap he will think you like a little sport to make you hot."
She cursed him for his crudity.
The words slipped by Jericho, making no impact on his implacable expression. He grabbed a loose edge of the sheet that covered Rae and pulled hard. She tried to get it back, even slashed at the material with her dagger, but Jericho was stronger, and she had to choose between being dragged toward him or being uncovered. She chose to scramble to the far side of the bed and watched him warily.
Jericho's boots thumped to the floor and the intent in his eyes were clear. "It will do no good to scream at Linfield," he said conversationally. "Do you know that Ashley was nearly raped by one of the duke's guests and no one lifted a finger until the old sot passed out? I see you didn't know. Neither did I, until Salem told me the night we planned the duke's murder. He wanted to make certain I knew the sort of man I was going to meet. Are you going to use that dagger, Red?"
"Stay away from me, Jericho."
"I've taken another name. I am known as Thomas, Lord Adams, now."
"And your conduct is a shame to both the parents whose name you bear. Leave me be!"
A muscle jumped in his cheek, once, then his face was still. "I've never taken any woman against her will in my life, Red. I know what it is to be held helpless! Shall I give you a taste of it?"
Rae moved as far as she could away from him, until her shoulder was flush to the wall. Her head pounded relentlessly and her hands shook. "Do not do this thing. You cannot help but regret it."
"You credit me with too many finer feelings." He unfastened his breeches but did not bother to remove them or his shirt. "You'll have to use the knife, Red."
She sprang at him then, fury making her forget caution. The force of her lunge did push Jericho away from the bed just as he was preparing to sit, but it left Rae awkwardly splayed on the mattress. The arm that held the knife hung over the side of the bed, and before she could pull it up Jericho pressed his knee against her elbow until excruciating pain made her drop the blade.
He kicked it across the floor and pulled Rae up by her shoulders and turned her on her back. She kicked and flailed her fists at him, and though he took a good measure of abuse before he wrestled her to exhaustion, in the end he simply straddled her stomach and held her wrists down over her head. She turned her face to one side as Jericho's head lowered.
She expected to feel his mouth on her, so she was surprised when he merely spoke in a strained whisper above her ear. "You've seen the duke, haven't you?" She nodded. "He is a fit man, I believe." She nodded again. "Well capable of disarming you and holding you down thusly."
"Yes. You know he can."
Jericho smiled malevolently. "He won't even have to hold you down for long. Nigel Lynne uses shackles. Had you heard?"
"You're just saying that to frighten me."
"You're damn right I'm saying it to frighten you! But it is not a fabrication. How protected you were in the loving arms of your family! Even Ashley, growing up inside Linfield's cold walls, knowing virtually nothing beyond its boundaries, still was less an innocent than you. She learned as a child of the cruelties one human being can inflict upon another. Why are you looking so bewildered? Has she never told you about the birthmark on her breast?"
"I don't know what you mean."
"Dear God, Rahab. So sheltered from life's unpleasantries! I wish that Ashley had told you, better yet, shown it to you just once as her child suckled at her breast! You needed to see with your own eyes what was done to her, then we would not be having this conversation. There is no birthmark, Red. Your sister-in-law was branded. That is how the Duke of Linfield deals with innocence. She was a babe! A babe!"
"You do love her," Rae said, feeling frightened and betrayed by the emotion in his voice.
"No! Can you not understand? I admire her. She has known every sort of brutality at Nigel's hands, and she emerged whole, and clean, and able to love. I wanted that, envied it! Then I stumbled upon you, fresh-faced, saucy, and winsome, and you made me feel those things. Can you blame me for wanting to keep you sheltered from your own recklessness a while longer?"
"No. I don't blame you."
"Then come to London with me, Red, where there is no chance of your falling into harm."
"Jericho," she said gently, her heart in her throat. "I need to do this. Perhaps it is time I was unwrapped from cotton wool. I tell you, I am safe at Linfield. Let me be a help to you there."
Jericho's face was cold, his eyes the icy blue-gray of winter's sky. "I wish I had never gone to Wolfe's that night," he said harshly. "Go to Linfield, if that is your desire. But know that I will not lift a finger to pull you from any coil you find yourself in. When I leave this room you will cease to exist for me. Does it make a difference to your plans?"
Her voice was choked. "No."
"Then there is only one thing more I want from you, Red."
Rae blinked widely, paling at his words, at the intention she thought she read in his eyes. Afraid of him now in a way she had never been, she sought to protect herself, to fight with the only weapon she had left. "It's bred in the bone, isn't it, Geoffrey?" she said, using his given name deliberately. "You really are naught but a whore's bastard!"
Rae's thoughts had barely been given sound when she realized her grave error. Jericho's face was no longer etched with glacial anger. The moment had passed when he was in full control of his every action. Reason had vanished beneath her stinging words, and in its place was something elemental and primitive, frighteningly ugly. Threats had become promises.
Jericho forgot he had only wanted to frighten her, make her aware of the risk she was taking. Whore's bastard. Whore's bastard. The taunt echoed in his mind, and it was all he heard. Pain was all he felt.
His mouth caught hers hard, and though she twisted her head she could not completely evade his kisses. Not kisses, she thought; they were too punishing to be kisses. There was no hint of tenderness, no real passion, indeed, the emotion that drove him was a tidal wave of hurt and a hunger to hurt in turn.
He took, and she let him, giving nothing in return. When his fingers left her wrists, leaving red marks in their wake, she did not lift her arms to shield herself. They remained limply above her, unmoving, as if weighted by the duke's shackles. She had no response for the hard sweep of his hands over her shoulders and breasts or the rough, bruising kisses he placed on her throat.
This was not Jericho, she thought, and she was not Rahab. This violation was happening to two strangers, and she did not think it odd that he was as much victim as she.
Jericho's mouth at her breast was not intended to arouse, but merely to show her that he could do as he wanted. His tongue laved her nipples and they hardened slightly, but there was no pleasure in the sensation.
&nb
sp; He eased himself down her body, then unstraddled her, placing himself between her thighs. His hands slipped beneath her hips, lifting her. There was a slight hesitation on his part and it was then that Rae's dark eyes sought him out, but Jericho was blind to her pitying glance, and he forced his entry.
One of Rae's hands lifted and she bit the fleshy pad of her palm to keep from crying out. She stared at the ceiling and waited for it to be over. Jericho's hips quickened and his thrusts rocked her roughly. She heard him curse violently as he spilled his seed but understood that she was not the target of these words. It was as she suspected it would be. He hated what he had become, and yet there would be no remorse at this juncture. He would have to carry on as he began, and indeed, it was only a moment later that he withdrew. She turned on her side away from him and faced the wall.
He left the bed and dressed unhurriedly. In her mind Rae could see him moving with his easy grace. On his way to the door he paused. "My father always had some trinket for his whore. As you say, ma'am, it's bred in the bone." Rae heard him flip a coin on the bed, and what he had not already crushed, caved in at this final humiliation. "Don't tarry in bed. You have to meet your friends soon. Good day."
* * *
Rae's monthly courses did not follow in two weeks. At the end of six she could no longer ignore the fact that sometime that afternoon, whether in laughter, love, or self-loathing, Jericho had got her with child.
Chapter 12
The baby changed everything.
Rahab knew that whatever she was willing to risk for herself, she was unwilling to risk any measure that might endanger her child. Jericho could not have foreseen that the one certain way to make her leave Linfield was to give her responsibility for another life, but he had managed to make her yield to his wishes nonetheless. She did not thank him for it.
Even before she knew she was carrying his child, not a day passed that she did not think of him as she had last seen him, ruthless and hurtful, forcing her to acknowledge his command and her own vulnerability. The memories aroused no hatred in her breast, no bitter anger. She felt only a dull ache, and in time that, too, passed.
