Tall and handsome, Thomas had always attracted notice from women. Linnet had seen the covetous glances sent in his direction when she went with him into town to do a bit of shopping. He’d always laughed at her, claiming he had no interest in any invitations but hers. But he had gone to this woman, and she had taken him into her body. His seed had taken firm root in that woman’s womb, not hers. Had he loved her when she had presented him with his daughter? How could he not?
She held herself rigidly within the circle of his arms, crying from the pain tearing through her, worse by far than any physical pain she had ever endured. When she’d begun to lose her child, when she’d realized what was happening, she had been terrified and heartsick. She had clung to the knowledge of Thomas’s presence. Whatever happened, he had come for her. The doctor had told her he saw no reason she could not have another child. She had tempered her grief with the belief that, just as Thomas had come back to her, so too would the spirit of this babe.
And then she’d awakened to learn that he had left.
“He said he never should have come,” her mother had apologetically related in a tone that conveyed no regret whatsoever, “and he was quite right. Look what that man has done to you. To cause you such distress in your delicate condition—” she broke off, dabbing at her dry eyes with a lace-edged handkerchief. “But then, what has he ever brought you other than pain? What has he brought any of us other than pain?”
“He is the father of my children, and there is no greater joy in my life than my children,” Linnet had told her with as much anger as she dared show.
“You must know I did not mean to overlook my dear grandchildren. I have every hope of making a splendid match for Diana, and the continuation of the family line may well fall to young Alexander. You and the children are better off here, with your own people. Now let us not speak on this any further. He has chosen to walk away, and in time you will accept that this is for the best, for you and the children.”
She had never accepted that Thomas’s leaving had been for the best, because it hadn’t been. Not for her children. Not for her. Thomas’s words earlier came back to her. She thought he’d said that her mother had told him to leave. Though it made Linnet ill, she had little difficulty imagining it.
What would her life have been like if her mother hadn’t driven Thomas away that day? She couldn’t place all the blame on her mother. Why hadn’t she found the courage to return to Swallowsdale before today? The past was the past, she told herself. What mattered now was the future. Did they have a future?
“This Marjorie… D-Did you love her?” she whispered, terrified to hear his answer.
He pulled back so he could look into her eyes. His big hands trembled as he cupped her cheeks, brushing her tears away with his thumbs. “I swear to you with all that I am: You are the only woman I have ever loved.”
A strangled, wounded sound escaped her throat. She wanted to speak, to tell him that he was the only man she’d ever loved, that she loved him still and always would, but the muscles in her throat wouldn’t cooperate.
“I have thought of you, missed you, needed you and loved you every day. I know I don’t deserve you, and I know you can never forgive me. I will never forgive myself—”
“Stop,” she choked. She was so tired of accusations and blame, of guilt and grieving, of recriminations and regrets. They had both hurt each other, both made mistakes, but by some miracle, they both still loved each other. The only mistake now would be continuing to stay apart.
She rose up on her toes and leaned into him, wrapping her arms around his neck as she closed her eyes and let instinct guide her. Now that she was back here in his arms, finally home, she would never leave again.
Thomas stiffened in shock at the first feather-soft brush of Linnet’s mouth on his. He forced himself to stand still, fearful that any movement on his part might break whatever enchantment held his wife in thrall. He had never thought he would hold her again, except in his dreams. To have her pressed against him, kissing him…
She trailed her lips down to his chin, then up the side of his jaw to his cheek. Her light touch was curious and reverent, at once so much more than he had dared hope for and so damned far from what he needed. It had been so long. He groaned when her tongue darted out to taste his skin. She hummed in approval as she dragged her lips back to his.
His heart slammed painfully against his ribs as his body stirred to life. He never had been able to control that portion of his anatomy around her, he reflected ruefully. He tried to step back, but Linnet tightened her arms around him.
“Don’t you want me?” she asked, her voice filled with a combination of need and confusion.
“You know I do,” he gritted out, “but—”
“What?” She drew away from him, a flash of hurt in her beautiful gray eyes.
Everything inside him demanded that he pull her back to him, kiss her the way he needed, claim her so thoroughly that she would never think of leaving him again. His hesitation was due to wanting her too much.
“Are you certain this is what you want, Linny?” His hands clenched into tight fists at his sides as he fought the urge to reach for her. “Are you certain I am what you want?” He swallowed hard. “Because I won’t let you go again. I can’t—”
His voice broke, but she was there to heal it, to heal him. She launched herself at him and he caught her, trapping her in his arms as he kissed her with all the heat and hunger he had stored through too many lonely years. He wanted to go slow and savor her, but his patience was stretched thin. It snapped at the first dainty flick of her tongue against his. Her taste exploded through his senses and ignited his blood. The fire coursed through his body, burning along his veins and driving him past reason.
Her head fell back as he palmed her breasts through her gown. “Thomas. Oh, God. It has been so long.”
“I can’t wait any longer, Linnet. I need you now.” He nearly growled the last word.
“Here?” Eager desire infused the breathily uttered syllable.
“Here.” He arched his brows, silently daring her to disagree.
Instead, she nodded and licked her lips. “What about Diana and Henry?”
He strode to the door that led to the hallway and locked it, then crossed the room and did the same to the door connected to his office. “They are perfectly capable of sorting through their problems on their own,” he assured her as he stalked toward her.
“And the— And Claire?”
“Later.” He came up behind her and nipped her earlobe, then set to work unfastening her gown.
“I want to know your daughter. She is part of you, and—”
“Hush.” He moved in front of her and captured her face in his hands. “You are the most astounding woman.”
She beamed at him, her eyes sparkling. “I love you,” she told him, raising her arms and placing her hands along his jaw.
Her words simultaneously soothed him and inflamed him. He saw the girl he’d given his heart to, and the woman who had kept it safe, despite everything that had come between them—including him.
She was his heart. The only true home he had ever known.
“Not as much as I love you,” he vowed. “Forever, Linny, and it still won’t be long enough for me to love you.”
They were the right words, and she rewarded him with a slow, sweet kiss. “You said forever, Thomas. That’s what I want. Forever. With you.”
Forever.
With Linnet.
It definitely wouldn’t be long enough, but damned if he wouldn’t love every moment.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Be patient with each other. As your marriage grows, so will you. The qualities you love most about your wife will be the same traits that will drive you insane, but when you feel ready to tear out your hair, remember how you felt on your wedding day. Marriage may seem effortless in these early weeks but, like any precious bloom, you must tend it. If married life suits you half as well as it suits me
, you will be a very happy man.
—FROM THE VISCOUNT WESTON TO HIS SON HENRY
AS HENRY THUNDERED UP THE drive to Swallowsdale Grange, he tried to prepare himself to face his wife. There was a possibility that she’d already left, but he didn’t think so. With his daughter back in his grasp, Merriwether wouldn’t let her go so quickly.
He rode past the stables around to the paddocks. Sure enough, Kingsley was talking with a middle-aged man who stood at least a foot shorter than him.
“Kingsley,” he called. “This noble steed is now a valued member of our stables. Will you see he gets a proper rub-down and extra oats?”
He dismounted as Kingsley came over to take the reins. “You took your time getting here,” the groom grumbled, “and now you bring me a hack?”
“Is she all right?” Henry demanded. “Rutland and Bess were still in London so I stayed with them. I didn’t go to my club until yesterday evening, or I would have been here sooner. You might have given me more direction than Suffolk. I went to her mother’s house. Damn it all, I’m sorry, Kingsley. It’s a bloody mess, but you watched over her and kept her safe, and I can’t thank you enough for that. Do you know where she is?”
The short man approached them, casting an unimpressed look in Kingsley’s direction. “So he’s finally come for Miss Diana, has he? You still owe me a crown. You said he’d be here yesterday morning at the latest.”
“That’s Mrs. Weston,” Henry said tightly, “and I’ll give you a guinea if you can tell me where she is.”
The man slowly took his measure and then pointed toward the house. “Follow the path behind the garden. She’s picking flowers with Claire.”
Henry didn’t know who Claire was, but he hurried in the direction the man had indicated. He’d gone about half a mile when he heard girlish laughter. At the sound of Diana’s voice, relief speared through him. He couldn’t make out what she was saying, but she sounded calm and cheerful, which was a long ways from how he’d imagined he might find her.
Then he turned a bend in the path and she came into sight. His heart tripped as she laughed at something the girl said. Henry looked at the girl, then at Diana, and then back again, and he actually tripped. He crashed to the ground like a felled tree. Feminine shrieks rent the air as they rushed over to him.
“Henry!” Diana yelped.
“Oh my goodness!” exclaimed the girl.
“Are you all right?” Diana asked. “What are you doing here?”
“I’ll bet he scared away all the animals for miles.”
Diana began to pat him all over. “Where are you hurt?”
He groaned as he drew in a breath.
“Claire, run to the house and fetch—”
“No.” He hauled himself to his feet. “I just had the wind knocked out of me.”
“But—”
“Leave be, Diana. Now, who is this?”
Diana placed her hand on the girl’s shoulder. “I have a sister.” There was wonder in the words, along with a note of protectiveness and warning, as if she were worried he might spurn the girl for her illegitimate birth. Or perhaps she was reminding him of the unspoken rule that one didn’t quarrel in front of children or servants. “Henry, this is Claire.”
Henry smiled at this younger version of Diana. “If Diana has a sister, then it appears I have a sister as well. I daresay you can’t be more trouble than the ones I already have. Now, I would like to spend time getting to know you, but I must speak with your sister right now. Alone,” he added, when she made no move to leave.
The girl regarded him with suspicion.
“It’s all right, Claire,” Diana assured her. “Here, let me get the flowers for you to take back to the house.”
As Diana strode off to retrieve the basket of flowers they’d picked, Claire turned on Henry. “If you make her unhappy or hurt her, I’ll— I’ll—” Her face grew red and pinched as she scowled at him.
Henry’s heart twisted at the fierce display of loyalty. “Two of my sisters are married,” he told her, “and if either of their husbands hurt them, I would beat him to a pulp and then put a bullet in his black heart.”
Claire’s face brightened. “Then that’s what I will do to you.”
“You needn’t sound so eager,” he teased.
Her smile was like her sister’s—a ray of sunshine breaking through the clouds on a cold winter’s day.
“How old are you?” he asked.
“I was fifteen in February.”
“I have twin sisters just a bit younger than you. Lia and Genni will be fifteen in November.” He watched as her eyes lit with interest.
“Do they look alike?”
“Identical. Strangers can’t tell them apart.”
“But you can?”
“Lia has a freckle right here.” He tapped the skin just above his left temple. “Genni’s is over here.” He moved his finger to the right side of his head. “Identical, but opposite. Of course, that only works if at least one of them is wearing her hair pulled back. You will see when you meet them.”
She chewed her lip, the same way Diana did when she was nervous or puzzling out a problem.
“What’s the matter?” he asked as Diana approached them.
“The girls at school think I’m an orphan. They all believe my father is my uncle.”
So that was the story Merriwether was using. That would work well enough, he supposed, so long as Merriwether had seen to all the details. Henry would make certain of it; he didn’t want Diana vulnerable, and though she’d only just discovered her sister, he could tell she wouldn’t give her up.
Claire took a breath, slowly exhaled, and then forged on. “Your sisters would know the truth, though, wouldn’t they? If they know Diana is my sister, they’ll know I’m a bastard. They might not like me.”
His chest tightened. Lord, this one would wrap him around her finger as easily as her sister had. “No, they will love you.” He reached forward and tugged on a red curl. “Among strangers, it’s probably best to keep pretending that you are your father’s niece, but we are family now. With me and with my family, you never have to worry about being anything other than yourself.”
Claire surprised him with a hug just as Diana reached them. She looked at him questioningly.
He shrugged. “Merriwether women find me irresistible. It must be something in your blood.”
Diana muttered something that sounded like, “Hardly,” while Claire giggled.
“I expect those arithmetic problems to be finished by the time I am back,” Diana told Claire as she handed her the basket of flowers.
Claire made a face. “Will you help me with my French exercises later?”
“Of course,” Diana said fondly, and then sent her on her way. As soon as the girl was out of hearing, she turned to him. “I heard what you said to Claire, or part of it, at least. Thank you for being so good to her.”
“There’s no need to thank me for that.” She inclined her head in silent acceptance and began to walk along the path, moving farther away from the house. Henry followed her deeper into the wooded area. Just as well, he thought. They needed to talk, so it was best they had privacy. If Merriwether interrupted them, Henry wouldn’t be responsible for his actions. They walked on in silence for nearly ten minutes before some devil prompted him to say, “Though if you truly wished to thank me, I recall a certain French lesson you gave me…”
The mutinous look she shot him was neither amused nor interested.
He shrugged. “You can’t blame a man for trying.”
Diana stopped where she stood. Part of her was overjoyed to see him; she’d missed having his support over the past days. The rest of her wasn’t certain where they stood with each other. He’d left her without saying goodbye. She knew she’d hurt him with her lack of trust, and she planned to apologize, but Henry had to admit that he’d made mistakes as well. He should have told her that her father had sought him out, and he shouldn’t have left the way he had.
<
br /> She crossed her arms over her chest. “What can I blame you for?”
His hands fisted as he moved to stand in front of her. “Diana, I swear to you, I haven’t been with another woman—I haven’t desired another woman—since the night I first held you in my arms and tasted your sweetness and your passion. I stayed with Rutland while I was in London.”
She shook her head, her arms falling to her sides. “I know you wouldn’t be unfaithful—”
“No,” he said desperately, even a little angrily, though she knew this big man would never intentionally hurt her. “If you knew, I would have earned your trust. If you knew, you never would have run. Running away might be the way your family solves marital disputes, Di, but that’s not the way it’s going be between us.”
“But I didn’t run away,” she protested.
“You didn’t wait for me to get home to ask me about the letter you found,” he challenged. “You went haring off to Suffolk and led me a merry dance.”
“I came here because you wanted me to make peace with the past. I won’t pretend that I like all the women in your past, but they weren’t the real problem. I thought I would be home before you returned, but I hadn’t anticipated what I’d find here. In any event, you were the one who ran away.”
“Me?” He gaped at her.
“You didn’t say even good-bye. We needed to talk about what happened, but you didn’t wait long enough for me to wake up before you went haring off to London.”
“I didn’t leave because of our fight,” he said quietly. “The letter you found… You know it’s not what it seems?”
“I know. My father told me about his meeting with you.” She paused before asking, “Why didn’t you tell me? ”
He raised his brows. “Why didn’t you tell me that you’d discovered a taste for pennyroyal tea?”
She gasped.
“You might have kept me in the dark for quite some time if Mrs. Timms hadn’t voiced her concern,” he informed her, his tone dangerously calm.
“When?” she croaked.
Sara Lindsey - [Weston 03] Page 30
