Haunted by the Earl's Touch

by Ann Lethbridge

  ‘I have to apologise to you for my behaviour these past several days,’ he said.

  Her gaze shot to meet his. Her chin came up. ‘Your behaviour?’

  His heart squeezed. She didn’t trust him. She never had and with good reason. ‘I have not treated you with the respect and honour you deserve.’ He took a deep breath. ‘I suspected you of colluding with my grandfather’s machinations.’

  ‘To what end?’

  He looked at her, the heaviness in his chest almost unbearable. ‘I didn’t know. But I suspected there had to be something that would deprive me of my rightful inheritance. Something that would be revealed once we wed.’

  A small crease formed in her brow. ‘Yet you insisted we marry?’

  Because he’d decided he could deal with any plan of his grandfather, once he had his instrument under his control. Liar. He’d wanted Mary in his bed.

  She deserved so much more.

  She certainly deserved better than a bastard for a husband who had not protected what was his. His fists opened and closed. Fear squirmed like a live thing in his gut. He pushed his roiling emotions behind a wall of ice the way he’d learned to do as a boy. At some time in the future they might bear closer examination, but not now, when it would take all his strength to do the right thing.

  Squaring his shoulders, he strolled into the room. Her quick smile warmed him like the midsummer sun, but he shielded his heart in icy determination.

  ‘What is wrong?’ she asked.

  Already she understood him too well. ‘Word from Templeton has arrived.’

  Her gaze sharpened.

  ‘The will is undeniably flawed. He signed his father’s name, not his own. Two names reversed. So small a mistake, it took ages for anyone to spot it. Whether it was intentional or because of infirmity, we will never know, even though I suspect the latter. Whatever the case, it will not stand.’

  She gazed at him for a long moment, beautiful, clear blue eyes revealing the working of a bright intelligence. He could almost see the implications tumbling through her mind.

  ‘I am not then an heiress who must marry within the year?’ she finally asked.

  ‘But we will marry,’ he said. ‘The settlements will be generous, you can be sure.’

  He waited, his mind, his whole body, alert for some sign as to her response to his announcement. He didn’t expect this to be easy, or go well.

  A small crease formed between her finely drawn brows. Her gaze dropped to the still hands in her lap, effectively hiding her thoughts. He wanted to counsel her not to speak precipitously, not to rush to judgement, to consider the advantages, but he had been forcing her to his will from the moment they met. No longer. He didn’t have the right.

  She had saved his life.

  What he wanted, what he hoped, was that she could conclude that what he suggested was the right choice, the sensible choice.

  ‘Why?’ she said to her hands. She lifted her gaze. ‘Why should we marry?’

  She demanded he argue his case after all.

  ‘Surely the reason is obvious.’

  A blush said she understood his meaning perfectly well. He let go of a sigh of relief. He’d feared she’d balk. Feared it badly enough to hold his breath like a schoolboy longing for a treat.

  She shook her head. ‘I won’t do it.’

  For a moment, he didn’t believe what he heard. Then realisation hit with the force of a blow, shattering his soul to nothing but shards that pierced his heart in the aftermath.

  He strode to stand before her, gazing down into her lovely, sorrowful face. He loomed over her, letting her see his disbelief. But not the damage. Never that. ‘You are not thinking clearly,’ he said.

  She rose to her feet, tall, magnificent, her flashing eyes almost on a level with his. An angry goddess about to smite some lesser mortal.

  And after the way he’d behaved, it was just. But he wasn’t going to let her go without a fight. ‘Honour demands—’

  ‘Your honour, not mine. As I told you before, I do not move in circles that bind me to your notions of honour.’ A flicker of comprehension passed across her face. ‘And besides, if the will is broken, then you can no longer claim guardianship. You cannot keep me against my will, or force me to wed you.’

  Oh, his Mary was indeed clever.

  Only she was not his. And never really had been his. He should have known better than to think, to hope, she might yet find him of some worth. Still, he could not let her go without one more attempt to find common ground.

  ‘Hear me out, at least,’ he said.

  Her eyes were as cold as the grave. ‘Very well.’

  ‘The tables have turned, yes, but it does not mean we should not marry. I am no woman’s first choice of a father to their children, with my own parentage in doubt, despite my mother’s denial of wrongdoing.’

  ‘You doubt her.’ She spoke flatly.

  ‘I just don’t know. She fled. If she was innocent, why would she not have stood her ground?’

  ‘Sometimes that is the easiest way for a woman.’

  He’d made her flee, too. He heard the condemnation in her voice. ‘Think of the advantages. I am wealthy. I can provide for you. Protect you.’ He could see he wasn’t making any headway from the hard expression on her face. He started to panic. ‘Build as many schools for orphans as you decide are required.’

  For that he earned a small smile. It was a start. A chink in her armour. ‘I’ll give you free rein. Your own allowance. You don’t have to see me from one year to the next, if you don’t want to.’ He would do his level best to make sure that didn’t happen.

  She took a deep breath. ‘It is not enough.’

  Dumbfounded, he stared at her. She turned and walked away, out of the door, out of his life.

  Left him standing there feeling as if he had a hole in his chest the size of a cannonball. He looked down just to be sure he was still in one piece.

  Damnation. Impossible, headstrong, wilful woman. And he’d thought she was the only truly sensible female he’d ever met.

  He ought to lock her up until she saw reason. Except he’d tried that already. He could not hold back the small smile that tugged at his lips.

  Now what the hell was he to do?

  Manners scratched at the door and came in, disturbing his thoughts.

  ‘What?’ he snarled, then closed his eyes and grappled his temper into submission. ‘I beg your pardon, Manners, what did you require?’

  Manners acknowledged the apology with a twinkle in his eyes. ‘Miss Wilding has requested the carriage for first thing in the morning. I told her that our carriage was with Mrs Hampton and that the earliest I could arrange for a hiring would be the day after tomorrow. Did I do right?’

  He could refuse to let her leave. Again. What would that get him, apart from her hatred? No. If leaving was what she wanted, if that would make her happy... Happy. The word painfully jiggled the shards in his chest. If leaving made her happy, he forced himself to continue, then that was what must happen. ‘Arrange it.’ He had one more day to find a way to change her mind.

  The butler bowed himself out.

  Happy. The word came back to lash him anew. She deserved to be happy. Between him and his predecessor, they’d destroyed her life. If he couldn’t do anything else for her, he could help her put it back together the way she wanted.

  Finding this Mrs Ladbrook might be the key. But if Templeton couldn’t locate her, no one could. Then he would give her a school of her own.

  Nearby. Where he could keep an eye on her. A school and a salary large enough to keep her in luxury. He would then have the excuse to ride over and see her from time to time, to inspect his investment.

  His throat dried. She might not welcome visits from the bastard earl.

  All right. He would have his reports second-hand. He would know she was safe, and from a distance he could protect her from harm.

  The ache in his chest eased slightly.

  And what if she found
a man she did want to marry? What then? The thought of another man with the right to engage her wit in conversation whenever the mood took him, the right to touch her silken skin and arouse her passion... No. He would not think of his needs. This was about her happiness. Nothing else mattered.

  Something burned behind his eyes.

  He felt like a boy again, mourning his mother. Only this time, he knew it was different. There was no anger to balance the pain. No one else to blame.

  * * *

  ‘You sent for me, my lord?’

  Bane put down his pen and looked up. How was it that when she walked into a room she made it come alive? Or was it only him who came alive?

  At this moment she looked worried. Expecting he would prevent her departure on the morrow, just as he had prevented it today, no doubt. She thought him that kind of cur. And he didn’t blame her.

  ‘Please, sit.’

  She did so, sinking into the chair in front of his desk with natural elegance, her long slender limbs bending to her will, when he would much rather they would bend to his, her face calm and still, her eyes a deep shadowed blue.

  Perhaps he shouldn’t bother her with this, but she wouldn’t thank him for making her decision for her. ‘I found something among the papers Gerald tried to destroy. You might find it of interest.’ He passed over the piece of parchment he’d read with astonishment only half an hour before.

  Swiftly, she scanned the yellowed paper. A gasp left her lips as she raised her gaze to meet his. It was filled with wonder and disbelief. ‘But this is...’ She looked at it again.

  ‘From your father. It was he who consigned you to the earl’s care, in payment for some earlier favour. I am assuming our marriage was what was promised.’

  ‘Oh,’ she said, her whisper husky, her eyes still fixed on the words. The paper trembled in her fingers. ‘Oh.’

  Tears tracked down her cheeks.

  He’d made her cry. He’d thought she might be interested. Or even pleased. Tears he had not expected. He wanted to hit something. Better that than giving way to the pain at the sight of her anguish.

  He got up slowly, afraid he might make things worse. ‘Mary,’ he whispered. He came around the desk to her side, put a comforting hand on her shoulder and was glad when she didn’t pull away. He dropped to his knees, put his head close to hers. ‘Mary, please. I would not have shown you this if I thought it would upset you.’

  She swallowed and choked on an apologetic laugh. ‘You don’t understand. I’m not upset.’

  With her shoulders hunched and one hand covering her eyes, she looked the very picture of misery. ‘You are crying.’

  She raised her head and her watery gaze met his. ‘Don’t you see what this means?’

  ‘Your father undertook some sort of service for the old earl and this letter calls the favour in.’

  She shook her head. ‘No. I mean, yes, that is what is says. But it also says he loved me. He says my beloved daughter. In his last moments in this life, he thought of me, his beloved daughter.’

  He frowned. ‘Of course he did. You were his child.’

  A tremble quaked her body. ‘I didn’t know. I understood he had sent me away when my mother died. That he didn’t want me. To know that I was loved...’ Her voice cracked and broke. She buried her face in her hands.

  Bane remembered all the hugs and sweet kisses on his brow from his mother when he was young and swallowed the hot hard lump in his throat. He’d known without even thinking about it that he was loved. He’d known love in its purest form, even if he had lost it too soon. For years, he had shut himself off from its memory. Built walls of cold anger to keep the guilt at bay. The guilt for his part in his mother’s death. Now those walls were shattered, leaving him with his memories and vulnerable to her hurt.

  ‘Mary,’ he whispered. He swallowed again, for the words had been so long closed off. He cradled her face in hands that felt awkward and over large. ‘My darling. Look at me.’ A flood of emotion washed over him. Hope. Joy. And, yes, sweet warm love. They constricted his throat as her gaze met his. ‘Of course he loved you. I love you.’

  He stilled, shocked by the sound of what he had said. Shocked by the fact that he had dared to put his feelings into words. ‘I love your wit and your courage. I love your beauty. But most of all I love you.’

  Her mouth trembled as her gazed searched his face. ‘Please. I don’t need your kindness.’

  ‘When have I ever been kind to you?’ He brushed his mouth against hers. His lips tingled at this briefest of touches, wanting more. ‘It is I who needs kindness. All morning I’ve been plotting ways to keep you close, building a cage from which you could not escape. But I just couldn’t do it, sweet. It seems I can’t keep you against your will. I want you to be happy.’ He groaned. ‘But God, I don’t want to lose you.’

  ‘Oh, Bane.’ She flung her arms about his neck and sobbed against his shoulder.

  He’d made her cry yet again. He was an idiot. He’d made things worse. Awkwardly he patted her back. Forced himself not to wrap his arms around her and kiss her until she forgot his promise to let her leave. He had wooed her with seduction once, he would not lower himself to doing it again.

  Slowly her sobs subsided.

  He handed her his handkerchief and stood up while she dried her eyes.

  ‘You meant what you said about letting me leave?’ she asked in a shaky whisper and the glimmer of a smile.

  He nodded. The damnable lump in his throat did not allow for speech, but his eyes drank her in and he realised this would likely be the last time he would ever have a chance to be this close to her.

  ‘And if I wanted to stay?’

  His heart stopped beating. He swallowed. ‘Stay?’ God, was that croak actually a word?

  She stood up and, as always, he marvelled at how perfect was her stature, how elegant her neck, how feminine her figure. He had never seen her look more lovely, though her nose was red from weeping and her eyes still misty with tears.

  To his surprise, she placed her hand against his cheek. Without thinking, he turned his face and kissed her palm before her hand fell away.

  He felt its loss keenly.

  ‘I lied,’ she said so softly he had to lean closer to hear her words. ‘To you. To myself. I told myself I was trapped in this house by a man I didn’t trust with my life.’

  ‘You had every reason—’

  She stopped his words with a finger to his lips. ‘My heart knew what my mind did not. It always knew to trust you. If not, I would have found a way to leave that very first day.’ A small smile curved her lovely mouth. ‘I think I fell in love with you the moment I saw you standing in the shadows like some dark avenging angel.’

  Warmth trickled into all the remaining cold places in his heart. Her warmth. Her generous spirit. ‘You are saying you love me in return?’ he asked cautiously, fearing he had misunderstood.

  Her smile broadened. ‘Yes, Bane. I am saying I love you.’

  He felt his way forwards with care. ‘Then you mean to stay? To marry me?’

  ‘If you truly love me and want me.’

  He crushed her against his chest, feeling the pounding of his heart against his ribs. But did she really know what she was getting into with him? ‘I almost got you killed. I wanted to keep you safe and I almost got you killed the way I did my mother. If I had done the same to you, I would have gone mad.’

  She pushed back to look at him, a question in her eyes.

  All the old guilt rushed back. ‘I don’t deserve your love. I don’t deserve anyone’s love.’

  ‘You don’t get to choose who loves you.’

  ‘You would not, if you knew the truth.’ Painful though it was, he forced himself to remember that dreadful day when his life changed for ever. ‘I was ten. We had an argument. I ran off in a temper to the mine with some of the local boys. She hated me going anywhere near it, but the other boys always taunted me about being a coward and it seemed like a good way to get my own back. I
t got late and she came looking for me.’

  He inhaled a deep ragged breath. ‘We walked home in the dark, her trudging along behind me, because I was angry that she’d shamed me before my so-called friends. We were set upon by thieves. Big men. They held me down and they beat her. And there was nothing I could do. I could hear her crying out and the blows...’ The sickening sound rang in his ears. ‘I felt so helpless. She died of her injuries weeks later and not once did she berate me. But I knew. I knew it was all my doing. My temper that caused her death. I swore it would never happen again.’

  ‘So that is why you always seem so cold and controlled.’

  Her understanding was extraordinary. He let go a sigh. ‘Always, until I met you.’

  She smiled softly. But he hardened himself against his longing to kiss her. He wasn’t done.

  ‘I very nearly caused your death, too! What if you had died? I froze out the world after the death of my mother. Life would be unbearable if anything happened to you.’

  ‘What happened to your mother wasn’t your fault. Nor was what Gerald did.’

  ‘I know that. Yet in my heart I failed my mother and I failed you. How can you trust me to keep you safe?’

  ‘I don’t need you to keep me safe, I need your love.’

  The truth of it was blinding. He almost fell to his knees at the revelation. Yet even as the fear was vanquished, more doubts surfaced.

  ‘I’ll never be fully accepted in society,’ he forced himself to warn her.

  ‘I don’t care about society. I only care about you.’

  ‘What about children?’

  ‘I want children.’ She tipped up her face to kiss his cheek. ‘Don’t you?’

  ‘Yes. I want your children. But...but I don’t know whose blood runs in my veins. I could be a Beresford, as my mother swore, or the son of a villain.’

  ‘And I am the daughter of a vicar. The mixture will be interesting, I am sure.’

  He looked at her beautiful mouth with longing. ‘You are determined, then?’

  ‘Am I ever anything else?’

  No, thank God. He kissed her until he was dizzy with wanting her in his bed. It was all he could do not to carry her off to his chamber and make sure this was not all a dream. Make sure she could never change her mind. But there was a better way to do that.