“I have every right to stay here!” she argued with a stomp of her foot.
“Not while Glenrothes is the master here.” Richard grabbed up his own coat and headed for the door. “See it done, Godfrey.”
“Very good, my lord.”
Chapter 29
“Of all the rotten timing,” Francis muttered as he rode after Eve down Prince’s Street toward Moray Place. The traffic was heavy and it had taken so long to get a horse saddled he was sure Eve was long gone.
It had been a horrific morning thus far. After returning home from Eve’s bed in the early hours, Glenrothes awoke to the news that Vanessa had arrived once more with her baggage. He had met her with every ounce of aristocratic disdain he could summon, trying to bargain a price for Vanessa’s departure, without letting her know that he had more reason than ever to see her gone; without giving her ammunition to further ruin his life. She, in turn, had set up a tirade of protests before she had finally declared undying love for him and had flung herself at him just as Eve opened the door. Somehow he felt that there was no explanation that could cover the damage that moment had done. He should have told Eve the truth before, that Vanessa was back, that she was at his house. Instead, he had tried to cover it all up.
And the look on her face! Before her cool social mask had descended, Francis had seen her shock and pain. Pain that he never would dream of causing her.
Francis bound up the steps to his brother’s townhouse and entered without bothering to knock at all. “Evelyn!” he bellowed at the foyer.
Hobbes moved in long strides to intercept him. “I am sorry, my lord, but Lady Shaftesbury is not receiving at present,” the butler intoned imperiously.
Reaching the end of his tolerance for the old butler, Francis pointed a finger at the man. “Don’t even think of it, man! I have already had enough of you!”
Moira emerged from the parlor and stared at him in disbelief. “Francis MacKintosh! Whatever is going on here? Are you responsible for the state Evie arrived in moments ago?”
“She’s here then?” he asked in turn without bothering to answer the questions.
Moira, who had been worried for the past five minutes over Evelyn’s tragic state, observed the same in the earl before her. His agitation and worry nearly matched Eve’s when she had stormed through, begging to be left alone. “You’ve hurt her.”
“I love her. You know that.”
“Then fix it!” He was halfway up the stairs as her final word came out. He would make it better. He had to! Moira couldn't stand seeing her friend so upset.
Francis reached Evelyn’s bedroom door and rattled the handle only to find it locked. “Evelyn!” he yelled. “Evelyn, open the door!” He pounded on the hard wood. “Come on, paradise! It's not what you think! Not at all.” He spoke softly. “She not my mistress or anything like that. That was just Vanessa.”
To his surprise, the door flung open and Evelyn stood before him, her eyes wide with disbelief and shooting sparks. “That was your wife? Well, thank goodness then! That makes me feel so much better.”
Francis shrugged helplessly and failed to stop her as she slammed the door in his face and locked it again. He pounded on it again but failed even to rattle it. “What the hell is this thing made of?” He gave it one final fist. “Evelyn, come on! At least let me explain! Let me tell you the whole of it!”
“The whole of it, that your wife is back in your home and arms?”
“Ex-wife,” he ground out.
“I should have known this would never work, Francis. It is beyond comprehension. As much as we would like, Francis,” she responded to him angrily, “life does not begin with ‘once upon a time’. Go home, before you ruin us both,” she whispered through the door.
“My home is with you, sweet Eden.” His heart ached so badly that he thought he might die from it. He pressed his palm to it and felt the dull thudding, knowing that he was losing the love of his lifetime. His soul mate. His own soul felt as if it were being ripped out. She was pushing him neatly away, as he had long known she would. It was a convenient escape for her. An opportune excuse. “No! I refuse to accept this! Now open this damned door and talk to me!”
“No.”
“Damn it, Eve! Open this door or I’ll…”
“Don’t do it, Francis,” she cut in. “Don’t be that man I was married to. After all this, do not think for one moment that you can tell me what to do or threaten me.”
“I was not trying to…”
“Yes, you were. It’s the constitution of the male nature to think that the way they want things to be is the right way, the only way. Well, I have a right to have some things go my way as well. So please leave me alone.” Leaning back against the door, she could feel him on the other side. Actually feel him. The pain in her tightened chest brought tears to her eyes. In becoming Francis’ lover, Eve had taken a monumental leap forward, doing something merely for herself. It had taken a courage and disregard for the rules that might have crippled her a year ago. Indeed, if William were alive she would have been crucified. She felt she should be appalled for ever considering it. She should have known it wouldn’t work out. But still.
Francis could hear her heartfelt sigh through the door. “This is madness, Francis. I should never have let it go so far. But you…”
He could hear the hesitation, the emotion in her voice. “I what, Eden?”
“You make me want things I know I can’t have.”
“You can, Eden. We can!”
“A part of me wanted to think so, but this! See how easily you can tear me up when you have made me so happy these past weeks.” She shook her head against the door. “You shouldn’t be able to do that to me. You shouldn’t have that power. Just the sight of you two…”
“Forget that, think of us,” he insisted. “Everything you think I do to you, you do to me tenfold. You make me incredibly happy with every moment we spend together,” he assured her. “Happier than I have been in many, many years.”
How could that not be true, Eve thought. She had heard enough tales of the misery his cheating wife had wrought over the years, the bitterness her behaviors had left in him. The divorce had freed him of her legally but had left scandal and social ruin for his family, which they were only just starting to conquer. Any happiness had to be greater than that.
“You make me happy as well,” she admitted at length, before adding hesitantly, “I think… Abby says that we do it to each other.”
“I’ve known that from the beginning, my love. We were meant for each other. I truly believe that and you know it as well. Now open the damn door,” he commanded roughly. “Not because I’m telling you to but because you want to.” The pause that ensued was so long, Francis thought his chest might burst with anxiety and anticipation. He fought his own instincts to force her to give in, but realized he would never come out the winner in that scenario. It had to be her choice. Hopefully, it would be the right one.
After a long, agonizing minute, Eve cracked the door open. Before her, down on his knee, was her handsome Scotsman. He held aloft a golden ring with a large diamond flanked by citrine. “You would make me even happier if you agreed to be my wife.” His softly spoken words held a wealth of emotion. “My Eden, sweet paradise, will you marry me?”
Elation filled Eve’s mind and heart, pushing aside the pain and confusion of the past hour as Francis held the ring out to her. He had asked her to marry him! Never, after hearing the stories of his marriage, had she ever dreamed he would enter into such a relationship again. Indeed, her friends had assured her that it was highly unlikely! But for her, he would dare to make the commitment once more. For her! Oh, her incredible man!
“Oh, Francis,” she sighed and wrapped her arms around his neck as he stood. He squeezed her tightly and nuzzled her neck.
“My Eden, my love,” he whispered emotionally as he pressed kisses against her neck and nuzzled her ear. “Is that a ‘yes, then?”
“Oh, Francis!” Eve lea
ned back in his arms to stare up into his eyes with a trembling smile. “No.”
It took a moment for her words to sink in. He drew back with a frown. “What did you say?”
Eve sighed and stepped back. “I said no, Francis.”
“No, as in ‘no, I will not marry you?’”
“Yes, I won’t.”
“Well, why the bloody hell not?” His deep brogue pulled itself mightily to the forefront with his strong emotions and was so evident that for a moment Eve could barely understand him.
“I appreciate the offer, Francis, I do. It makes me so incredibly happy that you would ask,” she tried to assure him.
“So happy that you won’t say yes?”
“Francis, please try to understand…”
“Understand what?” he queried in disbelief. “Is it the divorce? The scandal? I had thought, since ye had considered it yerself before yer mangy husband died, that ye might be fine wi’ it!”
“It’s not the divorce.” Eve shook her head in denial. A month ago, no, even a week ago, the idea of linking herself to such scandal would have been appalling, but now it seemed so easy to shrug such a minor thing away.
“Then what?”
“Perhaps we should have a seat?” Eve suggested and waved him into her room, closing the door behind him. There were two chairs arranged across from a settee, in front of the fireplace. Eve supposed she couldn’t be angry that he chose a chair where she couldn’t sit next to him. Hesitating only a moment, she sat on the settee opposite him and tried to formulate her thoughts. “You must realize, Francis, I have responsibilities to my son and the earldom that cannot be ignored…”
“Nice try, Eden.” He dismissed her explanation before she even got going, rising to his feet to pace the room. “I will accept that you take your responsibilities as guardian seriously but that isn’t the reason you are denying me. What is it?”
As he prowled restlessly, she realized how much she loved to watch him. The movements of his body were so fluid, the muscles of his back shifted and rippled under his shirt. Those in his arms and legs bunched beneath his clothing as he squatted before the fire and reached for a poker. She could watch him constantly and never tire of him, his graceful movements rare for a man of his size. He stirred the fire into a good blaze and stayed crouched there, encouraging the flames with the poker. The glow of the fire lit his face. So strong, so beautiful.
Her heart seized.
“Francis,” she sighed longingly, “my God, how I love you…” The words popped out of her mouth before she had even realized they had formed. Not to her complete surprise, she realized the words were true. She had loved him from the moment she met him and that love had never faded over the years in between. It was as Moira had said. She could be forever without him and love him still with a depth of feeling different from the love she had ever borne for another. Francis had the love of her heart and her soul. It was complete, passionate and fulfilling love. She would do anything for him.
Absolutely anything.
How terrifying! She would give up her reputation just to engage in a scandalous affaire de coeur with him. Without thought or hesitation. Undeniably, she already had! Was it possible then, that she would even give control of her life to him? Would she really go so far as to marry? Just to be with him and make him happy?
How horrifying that she would even think of willingly putting herself under the thumb of another man! Never! Never again! She could not be owned. She would not allow herself to be legal property again. But, her heart called. She loved him, it plead pitifully. But adoring him so completely meant that if she lost herself to him, it would be her downfall and her salvation. Still, her life felt complete with him, her heart argued. She knew she could live without him, but did not want to. The internal conflict raged in her as her heart and head waged battle. “Oh, God, no,” she moaned and began to cry.
Those first words of love had startled Francis so much he dropped the poker with a loud clang. His entire body tensed as she spoke them, a wonderful warmth filled him, flowing outward from his chest to every part of his body. She loved him! He knew she did, of course, she had shown him already in so many ways, yet it made him feel good, like a god in some ways, to hear it aloud. It also humbled him completely, knowing he had done nothing to deserve it.
He was about to admit this thought to her when he realized she was crying.
“Paradise?”
“I can’t… I can’t,” she was sobbing, over and over. “I can't love you. I won't. Oh, Francis! I know you can’t understand, but…” Eve trailed off.
“Love is a good thing, is it not?” Francis sat beside her on the settee and put an arm around her, comforting her as she wept. “Tell me, darling, tell me what has you so troubled.”
“Eight years ago, this wouldn’t have bothered me at all,” she confessed. “I was a different person then.”
“I know your marriage was not a good one….”
“It’s not just that,” Eve denied. “You can’t comprehend the change that was forced upon me. My whole life, I did what I wanted. I went my own way. Then Da had me betrothed to Shaftesbury,” Eve continued bitterly. “William never doubted he would get the prize, never asked whether I wanted to marry him. Did I tell you that? He never spoke to me about anything personal. I told you about our first dance? How I thought he looked so proud? You have no idea, Francis,” Eve shuddered at the memories. “He spent the entirety of our marriage trying to mold me into his vision of the perfect wife, the perfect showpiece of his collection. I was just a thing to him! As perfect as his sculptures and paintings. He took away my choices, my free will! He took away all the things about me that I was proud of and made me into a shell of what I was! A perfect façade. I went from having control of my every choice to none at all! I never want to be put into that position again and loving you, even without marriage, allows you the power to do just that!”
Francis stroked her head as it rested on his shoulder. Her fear was obviously very real and he did not want to belittle it by dismissing those fears summarily. Clearly there was much more to her marriage that Eve wasn’t sharing, but this was not the time for details. He’d had no idea how deeply it had scarred her. Shaftesbury was lucky he was dead or he would have suffered greatly at Francis’ hands indeed. However, Eve also needed to realize that one man was not necessarily like another. “There is a difference between us, you know? I am not Shaftesbury. I am not a monster.”
She pulled away and shook her head. “I know you are not, Francis, but to lose myself, to allow someone to have power over me again is terrifying! In marriage, a man has all the power. He is the master.”
“But you are forgetting something, sweet Eden.” He caressed her cheek lovingly before urging her to face him. “When it comes to people such as you and me, it is not a question of power. It is a question of love.”
“A question of love?” she asked in confusion, not understanding his logic.
“Aye, my paradise, loving a person as they are.” He dropped a feathery kiss on her lips, his thumbs stroking her cheeks. “I do not want to change you, darling. I love the improper chit who bellowed her ire to all of Mayfair, the girl who plays chess and is proud of it, who challenges me at every turn and plays with worms with her son. And I don’t want to rule that life. I want to share it with you, not take it from you.”
“I couldn't stand to lose myself again, Francis. To lose my identity again. But I don’t want to continue without you either.” She buried her face in his shoulder and clung tightly to him, though his words had warmed her heart. He could feel the tremors rippling through her body and acknowledged that her fears, however unfounded, were very real. “I'm so scared, Francis.”
“So am I, sweet paradise.”
“You?” she sniffed, looking up into his deep green eyes. “Scared? Of what?”
Love, came his unspoken thought. To have found this woman once again and know his happiness rested with her. He did not want to become a hermit on
ce more, didn’t want to live a life of bitter reflection and cynicism. He feared not finding a way to keep her, lest he revert to that embittered existence. He could not lose her, this bit of paradise who had brought laughter and, yes, love into a life that had none. She was his. A gift he clearly did not deserve, but one he intended to keep. Talk about a person having power! Finally, he spoke. “Perhaps of the same thing you fear, my darling. Giving you power over me.”
“How would I have power?” she asked, perplexed by his reasoning. “A man has all the power in marriage.”
“But not all the power when it comes to the heart,” Francis explained, trying to find the words to make her empathize. He knew that giving her understanding of his fears also risked her seizing that power, but he could not deny presenting his heart to her. “You have the power to destroy my life as well. You could have me under your heel in an instant. When a man loves a woman, all the power becomes hers.”
“You love me?” Her head came up and her bright, tear glazed eyes stared directly into his darker ones.
“More than life itself,” the instant response came with a smile.
“Really?”
“You know I do,” he answered promptly. Francis stroked a hand down her throat, shoulder and down her arm until he reached her hand, which he clasped in his and pressed against his heart. “I am yours and completely at your mercy. You know it well. Don’t you, Eden?”
She curled back up against his shoulder and stared into the flames, feeling secure and safe for the first time since the day she had married. “A part of me wants to,” she confessed softly at length. “A very large part. The other parts want me to flee to safety.”
“You can’t run away from life, Eden. It will not chase after you. Live it with me.” Francis spoke brushing his lips against the top of her head. “Be my love, knowing I’ve never loved another.”
“Oh, Francis,” she sighed. Her heart begged her to embrace all he offered.
For a long moment they simply sat entwined together, surrounded by the warmth of the fire and new love. Feeling his heart pounding under her hand, she felt safe. It felt wonderful, Evelyn thought, to love and to be loved. And she trusted him, she realized with a start. Trusted that he would not take advantage of her. That he would not try to mold her into what he wanted, but rather encourage her to come into her own and simply learn to be herself again.
Questions for a Highlander Page 42
