One Night With You

by Sophie Jordan

  “Just the same, anything Marcus left me should have gone to the man I married—”

  “Don’t apologize. Your jointure would have been yours to do with as you wished. I wouldn’t have touched a penny of it.”

  Jane stared at his resolute expression. “You would have let me keep what I brought to the marriage?”

  “Your late husband left it to you. Not me.” He leaned against his desk, crossing his arms. The motion pulled his jacket taut against his shoulders and biceps and she forced her gaze to his face. “Money has nothing to do with why we married.” His stare held hers, the molten brown steadily trained on her. “You know why we married.”

  For the life of her she could not look away. Nor could she breathe as she gazed into those warm brown pools, eyes that ensnared her, that seized her by the heart and refused to let go.

  You know why we married. Indeed she did. Her hand brushed her stomach, to the child within who made his presence known daily. She knew why Seth married her. Duty drove him. Duty to his sister. To his unborn child.

  Her reasons, however, had nothing to do with duty and more to do with hope. With dreams of love that her foolish heart refused to release.

  He blinked. And just like that a shadow fell over his eyes. Abruptly, he turned, circling back around his desk. “I’ve work to do.”

  She rose as if a poker prodded her backside.

  “Of course,” she murmured, moving to the door, calling herself the world’s greatest fool to ever hold out hope that his feelings for her would change, that he could love a woman he had never wanted to wed in the first place.

  Jane clutched the edge of the basin, her empty stomach clenching until her fingers turned numb and bloodless. After several more heaves, her stomach stilled, and she prayed that the worst had finally passed. Heavens knew there was nothing left in her belly.

  The air sounded fuzzy, a humming quiet after the harsh sound of her retching. Blinking through watering eyes, she pulled back on unsteady limbs. Cold tears streamed silently down her face and she dashed a shaking hand over each cheek. The gray light of dusk washed over the chamber and she marveled at the day lost to illness.

  She didn’t attempt to stand, simply crawled toward the bed, grasping the hem of her nightgown so that it did not become caught beneath her. Halfway there she gave up and collapsed, curling up on her side with a shuddery sigh. For the best, she supposed, eyeing the basin. She shouldn’t stray far.

  She hugged herself, trembling like a leaf on the wind—a dreadful full-body shake that made her feel weak and helpless at the same time. For the moment, her belly was still, the nausea at bay, but even as she tried to hope that her stomach had settled, that she couldn’t possibly feel any sicker, she knew she could. She knew she would. Today had been an endless misery.

  Not for the first time, she agonized that something was wrong with her—with the babe. Even though Anna had assured her that such things were normal, even common, she could only feel a deep, gnawing anxiety.

  Her hand drifted to her belly, love swelling in her for this life that was a product of her and Seth. Something good. Sweet and innocent. Love would result of their union. One way or another.

  Fierce determination gripped her. No harm could come to him, this person that she already loved. Who would love her in turn—as her own family never would. As Seth did not.

  She curled herself into an even tighter ball. Please, please make him well and strong. The litany rolled through her mind with the ferocity of a rushing river.

  The door opened. Relief coursed through her. No doubt Anna had returned with the mint tea. She had vowed the brew would help settle her stomach.

  “Anna,” she whispered through parched lips and a throat that felt ravaged as plowed earth.

  A moment later, warm, firm hands were pulling her up.

  “Seth,” she murmured, confused, instantly knowing his touch, his smell, his enlivening heat. Blast. Would she never be immune? Indifferent?

  He swung her up into his arms and gently laid her on the bed.

  “No,” she protested, one arm motioning weakly for the floor. “The basin,” she managed to get out.

  “I’ll fetch it.”

  Mortification stung her cheeks. Seth playing nursemaid was the height of humiliation. She could not bear for him to see her like this. At her worst.

  “Go away,” she choked, jamming her eyes shut.

  “Hush,” he murmured, pressing the cool cloth that Anna had used against her forehead.

  With a sigh, she turned her face toward that soothing coolness. Her heart should not leap at the gesture. It didn’t mean he cared for her. It didn’t mean she meant anything at all to him. He was an honorable man. An honorable man would stop to help an injured animal. Certainly his wife would not be excluded from that basic impulse to offer aid.

  Even a wife he did not want.

  Worry hammered Seth’s chest as he bathed Jane’s brow. She looked the image of death. An image he knew well. Lips as gray as gunmetal. Eyes glassy with agony. He’d seen the face of death before. On brave men cut down in their prime, vital one moment, refuse on the deck of a ship the next—the loud whistle of the bosun’s mate a sorrowful salute on the wind as their wrapped bodies slid to a watery grave.

  “How long have you been like this?” he demanded, chasing thoughts of death from his mind and focusing on the present, on Jane.

  Why had no one fetched him? He assumed she had been avoiding him, retreating rather than face him. As he had been doing. Never had it occurred to him that she was ill. Passing her door, he had heard her terrible retching. For no other reason would he have entered her room, too determined to avoid the temptation she presented.

  “For a while,” she whispered, her voice a dry croak. “Anna says it will pass.”

  “This is…normal?” Seth asked, feeling frighteningly ill-equipped. He could stitch up a wound and dig out a bullet if necessary, but this…

  The last time he had felt this helpless was staring at Julianne lying twisted and still as stone amid the bluebells. He’d thought her dead. Thought he had killed her.

  “According to Anna, the sicker I feel, the healthier the babe.” A tremulous smile curved her lips, as if she did not entirely believe such counsel.

  His gaze flew to her stomach, as if he could see the child within her. His child. Theirs. Until this moment, none of it had been quite real. Suddenly he could imagine their child. A little girl with Jane’s glossy brown hair and hazel eyes. His heart constricted.

  “Perhaps we should send for the physician, just to be safe,” he suggested, the protectiveness gripping him fierce, an emotion, welcome or not, he was coming to anticipate around her.

  “My lord? What are you doing here?” The sound of Anna’s voice brought him to his feet.

  “Seeing to my wife,” he answered.

  Anna studied him warily as she carried a tray holding a steaming cup and set it on the table beside the bed.

  “Your wife,” she harrumphed, folding her arms over her great bosom. “Wouldn’t know it for all the notice you’ve given her.”

  “Anna,” Jane scolded, color washing the green tinge from her face.

  He scowled. “I’m sending for the physician.”

  Anna snorted. “What does a man know of female matters?”

  “It’s unnecessary,” Jane interjected, her weak voice firm with decision. “I’m in good hands with Anna.”

  “Perhaps,” he conceded. “But I’m staying. And if I think you’re worsening, I’m sending for a physician.”

  Anna began to protest.

  He arched a brow in warning.

  Snapping her mouth shut, the maid nodded and motioned to the tea on the bedside table. “See that she drinks.”

  Seth settled down beside Jane, stretching his legs alongside hers. Nestling her head against his shoulder, he brought the tea to her lips.

  “I’m not an invalid,” she complained, looking up at him with weary, bemused eyes.

  �
��Hush,” he murmured. “Drink.”

  She sipped from the cup, watching him drowsily. “Thank you,” she murmured, eyes drifting shut.

  “You may leave us, Anna.” He didn’t look up as the maid departed, too occupied with studying Jane’s face as she fell asleep in his arms, her soft curves nestled against his a tormenting reminder of all he was denying himself each night he slept alone in his bed.

  He squeezed his eyes tightly, struggling to forget what it felt like to have her, to sink himself into her heat.

  Despite his struggles, it was a memory that plagued him long into the hours of the night.

  Chapter 23

  “Good morning,” Jane greeted upon entering the dining room and moving to the sideboard.

  “Jane!” Julianne’s face brightened as she stared in Jane’s general direction. “How lovely to have you up and about again. Seth was beside himself with worry.”

  Jane glanced Seth’s way. Heat flooded her face at the memory of yesterday, of falling asleep in his arms, of waking up in his arms.

  Lowering his paper, he watched her with unreadable eyes as she placed one slice of toast upon her plate, not yet ready to try her stomach with her usual fare of eggs and kippers.

  “Good morning, Jane.” He inclined his head, the sound of her name on his lips low and deep, making her shiver.

  Sinking into the seat across from Julianne, she snapped her napkin free and murmured, “I feel much better. I actually woke hungry this morning.” Her gaze darted to Seth again, wondering if he had yet explained to his sister the reason for her illness, or, for that matter, the reason for their marriage.

  “Are you up for a drive in the park then, Jane?” Julianne asked, carefully reaching for her teacup. Closing both hands about it, she brought it to her lips for a small sip. “I confess I’ve been eager for your company. Rebecca’s sister lives in Eppingham. Since we’re so close I insisted she spend a few days with her.”

  Seth grunted at this before taking a crunchy bite of his toast.

  “Seth is not pleased with me doing so,” Julianne added in a not so conspiratorial whisper.

  “I’m sure even the most loyal companion deserves the occasional time off,” Jane volunteered.

  One of Seth’s brows cocked. “Quite. Only perhaps not when Julianne is in a house virtually unknown to her and requires more help than usual.”

  “Oh,” Jane murmured, looking with concern to Julianne.

  She flicked a hand in dismissal. “Nonsense.”

  “Then why have you pilfered Knightly, claiming to need his assistance?” Seth reopened his paper, missing the telltale blush stealing over Julianne’s face. But Jane did not. She noted the flood of color and wondered at it. Why should Jane blush at the mention of Mr. Knightly?

  “I think a drive too soon for Jane,” Seth announced.

  She snapped her gaze back to him, nostrils quivering. As much as she resented his answering on her behalf, she could not disagree. The thought of ambling along curving paths made her stomach tighten.

  “I suppose you can prevail upon Knightly again, Julianne. I’ve a meeting with my solicitor this morning.”

  “Certainly I wouldn’t want Jane to relapse.” Julianne cleared her throat, tracing the rim of her teacup with an elegant fingertip. “If you’re sure Greg—Mr. Knightly isn’t otherwise occupied.”

  Seth looked up at her slight slip, observing her intently. For a moment, something flickered in his gaze. Doubt. Uncertainty. Something. Then he shook his head and it was gone. He returned his attention to his paper.

  Jane studied Julianne as she slowly chewed her toast.

  “Excuse me, ladies.” Seth rose to his feet. “I have an appointment to keep. Julianne, I’ll send Knightly along.”

  Julianne dabbed a napkin over her broad smile. “Thank you.”

  Seth faced Jane. For a moment, his eyes darkened with something indecipherable. “Jane.” He gave a single tight nod.

  Heart in her throat, she watched him depart, stirring her tea absently as his broad back disappeared from sight.

  “Jane.” At the sound of her name, she returned her attention to her sister-in-law. “You’ve met Mr. Knightly…” Julianne paused, her slender throat working for words.

  “Yes?” she prompted.

  “What do you think of him?”

  Jane answered slowly, “He seems a fine gentleman.” Unsure she knew enough about him to assess his character, she added, “Although I’ve not had the chance to make his acquaintance to any great degree.”

  “I have,” Julianne confessed, leaning forward in her chair, her expression rapt, reminding Jane of the girl she had once been, full of anticipation and wide-eyed naiveté. “He’s brilliant! So witty and charming. Oh, Jane!”—she clasped her hands together before her—“he listens to me. No gentleman has ever listened to me as he does. And he treats me as though I’m whole and not some invalid. My own family has never even treated me like that.”

  “It appears you’ve grown quite attached,” Jane murmured, concerned over the tendre Julianne was clearly forming for Seth’s valet.

  “Jane…” Color flooded Julianne’s face.

  “Yes. What is it?” Jane prodded.

  “Mr. Knightly. Is he…handsome?”

  Jane stared in surprise.

  At her silence, Julianne rushed forth, babbling, “Not that it matters a great deal. It wouldn’t change my feelings for him. I’m simply curious and would like to hear a woman’s opinion.”

  “Yes. He is attractive. Any lady would think so, but Julianne—” She shook her head as if to clear it. “What sort of feelings do you speak of?”

  “I’m in love with Gregory.” Julianne leaned forward, hands flattening on the linen-covered table before her. “You mustn’t tell Seth, Jane. He wouldn’t understand. Swear it, Jane. Swear to me.”

  Jane’s mouth worked for a moment, wondering how she could keep such a thing from Seth. He cared deeply for his sister. He had married for Julianne’s sake! How could she keep such a thing from him? What would he do if he discovered she harbored such a secret?

  “Jane,” Julianne’s voice broke into her musings, insistent and desperate. “Promise me you will not tell.”

  Feeling as though a deep and lasting noose settled about her neck, she relented with a sigh. “I promise.”

  A sour taste flooded Seth’s mouth at the sight of the woman lounging on the chaise, the morning sunlight streaming through the window gilding her fair hair.

  Madeline. The mere sight of her had once sent his heart pounding. Crossing his arms over his chest, he surveyed the woman that had once filled his every dream, an odd sort of detachment coming over him as he eyed the impeccably coiffed lady idly caressing a figurine of cut glass in her hands.

  She had changed over the years. Her face had narrowed, the rounded curves of her cheeks lost to delicate angles and hollows. Her girlish figure had filled out. The waist was no longer so small. The breasts she had permitted him to caress beneath the summer sun had grown fuller.

  Changes aside, she was still one of the most beautiful creatures he had ever seen. And yet he felt nothing. Nothing save a rueful regret for losing his head over such pretty packaging. And a renewed determination to never lose his head over any woman again.

  “Your Grace,” he greeted, executing a sharp bow.

  Her head swung in his direction. “Seth, dearest.” She set the figurine back down on the table with alacrity and rose in one graceful move. Her glossy lips curved in a hungry smile. “Surely we are beyond such formality. We’re family now, after all.” She walked toward him, her hips swaying seductively.

  Family. A cold wind swept through him at the very idea.

  She stopped before him, one hand propped on her cocked hip. “Although I was not invited to the wedding”—the fine porcelain skin of her nose wrinkled—“a rather slap-dash affair, I imagine.” Her hand toyed with the ivory lace fringing her low-cut bodice, beckoning his gaze. “But then Jane was never one to expect
much from her husbands.”

  His hands clenched at his sides, unsure if the gibe was an insult to him or Jane. And the reminder of Jane having been married to someone else—though not news—caused an unfamiliar tightness in his chest. “The goal was expediency, Maddie.”

  Her gaze softened. “You were the only one to ever call me that.” Her fingers brushed his cheek, where the scar split his flesh. A feral glow filled her eyes. “How fierce you look now. Dangerous. Quite appealing, really.” Her voice dropped to a rhythmic croon. “I’m so sorry, Seth. It should have been you and me—”

  “Don’t,” he bit out. “What we had is dead.”

  And in that moment, he realized he spoke the truth.

  Staring at her ice-like beauty, so perfect she could have been chiseled from stone, he realized with a jolt that the love he once held for her had been grounded in infatuation—in a determination to possess the one person everyone told him he could never have. Looking at her, he could not recall what he had loved beyond her face.

  Acute relief flooded him that he had not in fact married her. That he had grown into a man that could see beyond her beauty to the shallow core of her.

  And with this realization came another. There had been more to his relationship with Jane. They had romped, talked, laughed, and shared. Loved, he supposed. Only he had allowed his infatuation for Madeline to put an end to that. No wonder his thoughts had turned to Jane so often over the years. Their relationship had possessed more substance.

  Madeline’s smile faltered. “I think military life has quite robbed you of your manners.” Her eyes glittered with irritation.

  “What do you want?” he asked baldly, removing her hand from his face.

  “Is that any way to address me?” She straightened and whirled around in a cloud of perfume. “I hoped that we might be friends again.”

  “We were never friends, Maddie.” She had been his obsession. Never his friend. Not like Jane.

  “No?” she challenged, smirking. “I seem to recall you begging my father for my hand in marriage?”

  Bitter bile rose in his throat. “A whim of youth.”