Gifts of Love

by Lisa Kleypas

  She clasped her hands together tightly. “I wish I could believe that. But I don’t know what to think about him anymore. I find myself wondering why I married him.”

  “Well, why did you?” Hale demanded.

  “Father wanted me to, and it was a help to the family.”

  “Father and the family be damned! You know he wouldn’t have forced you to marry Jason. The wedding would never have taken place had you uttered one word of objection.”

  Laura bit her lip and nodded, ashamed. “Yes, you’re right. I…the truth is, I was more than willing. I wanted to be a wife to Jason.” She drew her legs up and tucked them beneath her. “Jason thinks he doesn’t need anything from anyone. But I knew the first moment I met him that he needed someone like me, to help and comfort him, to bring some warmth into his life. I was so certain I could soften him, and bring out another side of him.” She laughed shakily. “And instead he seems to be changing me into something I never wanted to be.”

  It was three hours later when Hale made his way downstairs and discovered that the last of the guests had departed. Sliding his hands in his pockets, he ambled through the ballroom, where the musicians were packing their instruments.

  “Was it a success?” Hale inquired of the young lank-haired violinist.

  “Quite lively for your kind of crowd,” came the cheerful reply.

  Hale grinned and wandered past a pair of Irish maids carrying trays of empty glasses. “Pardon, miss,” he inquired of one of them, “where might Mr. Moran be? Retired for the evening? No? Ah, drinking in the library. I’m not surprised. Mr. Moran does have a taste for whiskey, doesn’t he?”

  Jason was sitting in a chair before the fire, holding a bottle of liquor loosely in his hand. His legs were stretched out, his head resting against the brocaded upholstery. His black evening coat had been discarded, while the sleeves of his starched white shirt were rolled up to the elbows. His eyes were half-slitted as he stared into the flames, while the firelight played over his raven hair. He did not move as Hale walked into the room and closed the door.

  “Usquebaugh,” Hale said, using a Gaelic word Jason had once taught him. He gestured casually toward the whiskey. “You micks call it the water of life, don’t you?”

  “Go to hell.”

  “Very likely.” Hale dragged up a heavy chair with his foot and collapsed into it. “First, however, I’m going to have a talk with you.”

  “If you’re half-witted enough to think I’m going to listen—”

  “I believe I’ll begin with a few observations.” Green eyes met black, and they exchanged a long glance, the glance of adversaries who knew each other’s secrets. “So far everything has gone according to your plan, hasn’t it?” Hale said. “Remember telling me about the plan years ago? Remember what you said?”

  Jason arched a black eyebrow. “I said that by the time I was twenty-five I would have graduated from Harvard with honors.”

  “And established yourself in the Boston business community.”

  “Yes.”

  “And married a girl whose name would allow you into the most elite social circles.”

  “Yes.”

  Hale smiled ironically. “At the time, although I admired your ambition, I didn’t believe you could do it. But you’ve accomplished all that. You married my own sister. You’re being referred to in Boston as ‘that damned Irish tycoon,’ and by the time you reach thirty, you’ll have multiplied your fortune several times over.” He leaned forward, losing some of his flippancy as he demanded, “What, then, is the cause for bitterness? Why are you behaving like such a bastard to Laura, when you have everything you ever wanted out of life?”

  Jason swished the whiskey in the bottle and stared into its swirling contents. He was tempted to confide in Hale, but he could not let go of the grudge between them.

  “Don’t answer, then,” Hale said. “I already know why.”

  Jason’s eyes gleamed dangerously. “You’ve always known all the answers, haven’t you? A Prescott’s prerogative.”

  Hale shrugged.

  Jason extended the whiskey bottle with a scowl, and Hale took a drink without hesitation. “You’ve been talking with Laura,” Jason said.

  “Yes, and she’s owned up to a few things I’ve been suspecting for some time.”

  “It’s a dangerous game, prying into matters that have nothing to do with you.”

  “Nothing to do with me?” Hale exclaimed, his temper sparking. “Laura is my sister, my favorite sister, and you’re making her miserable! Of all the girls in Boston you could have married and made miserable, why did it have to be her?”

  Jason rested his forearms on his knees, a shock of black hair falling over his forehead. He answered slowly, watching the fire with a brooding gaze. “There weren’t all that many girls to choose from. It had to be someone with a name, and someone with the qualities I wanted in a wife. And most of all it had to be someone whose family was in financial straits and had need of a rich son-in-law.”

  “So when it came time to marry, you cast your eyes around and there was my youngest sister—”

  “I decided to marry Laura the first Christmas I spent with your family.”

  Hale frowned, the ends of his mustache curving downward. “That long ago?”

  “Yes. Laura was only fifteen. When the family sat down to dinner I nearly made some excuse and left. I would rather have faced a firing line than confront that endless row of spoons and forks at each plate. I didn’t know which one to pick up first, or how to eat the damned asparagus. And there was your mother, watching every move I made like a hawk. But Laura was slower and more painstaking than everyone else, and I was able to imitate everything she did. Halfway through the meal I realized she knew I was aping her. She was being slow and precise in order to make it easier for me.”

  “Hell, I never bothered with Mother’s blasted rows of forks.”

  “You didn’t have to,” Jason said flatly. “You had nothing to prove.”

  “And so you decided to marry Laura because she helped you get through a meal?”

  “Because I knew she would be the kind of wife I needed.”

  Laura had said much the same thing. Hale set down the bottle of whiskey and stood up, glaring at his former friend. “Ah. A housekeeper. A social companion. A teacher of etiquette. A pretty ornament to impress the hoi polloi. There were other girls you could have married if that was all you wanted. Laura has more to give than that, and she deserves more than to spend the rest of her life trying to make you into a gentleman.”

  Jason smiled nastily. “You think she’s too good for an Irishman?”

  “Not at all. I think she’s too good for you.”

  Retrieving the whiskey bottle, Jason gestured toward the door. “Understood. Now get the hell out of here.”

  Hale paced around the room in frustration. “I’ve never seen Laura as high-strung and nervous as she was tonight. You’re crushing all the fire and spirit out of her.”

  Jason stood up to face him. “Fire and spirit,” he repeated sarcastically, thinking of his pale, poised wife, “are not words I would apply to your sister, Hale.”

  “Oh? Now I’m beginning to understand how little you really know her. She’s the most adventurous, free-spirited girl I’ve ever…why, once on a dare she sneaked into Father’s room and cut off half his mustache while he was sleeping. She loves swimming and skating and riding. She’s a crack shot, a first-rate pianist, an excellent dancer. She’s always dreamed of going to Egypt and seeing the pyramids, and traveling up the Nile in a dahabeah—”

  “A what?”

  “Dahabeah. One of those long boats.”

  Jason stared at him with narrowed eyes. “Hale, I don’t know who the hell you’re talking about, but it isn’t my wife.”

  “It damn well is! And there’s something else you should hear—”

  “I’ve heard enough.”

  “Falling-out or not, I should have talked to you before the wedding about La
ura. This notion you both seem to have—this supposed coldness of hers—”

  “Out,” Jason said tersely, herding him toward the door.

  Hale talked rapidly. “Dammit, Jason, you obviously haven’t realized how sheltered she’s been. My other two sisters had a devil of a time adjusting to marriage after the way they’d been reared. If Mother were a Catholic, she’d consider the convent too permissive for her daughters. Most girls have opportunities to flirt and hold hands with men, enjoy a stolen kiss or two. My sisters had none of that. As you know, Jason, I have a great deal of respect for my mother—but there’s no denying that she’s a bitter woman. My father has been unfaithful to her, not once but many times. My parents’ marriage went sour long before Laura was even born. Laura’s been brought up with some mistaken ideas about men and women, and by God, you’ve probably confirmed every last one of them! All because you seem to expect her to hop into your arms like some barmaid!”

  “The lecture is over,” Jason snapped, kicking the door open with the side of his foot.

  “Listen, damn you! Before she married you, Laura had never been alone with a man before, not for a minute. She’s not cold, she’s an innocent, a complete innocent who doesn’t even know how to kiss. She’s always been shy around men, especially those with a tendency to be overbearing. And all you do, all you’ve ever done, is frighten and accuse her! How is she supposed to be responsive to you?”

  Jason’s hands dropped to his sides, and his black eyes fastened onto Hale’s agitated face.

  “If you treat her with just a little patience or kindness you might be able to make her happy,” Hale said in a cutting voice. “I’ve seen you with women. I’ve seen you seduce the most hardhearted of them inside of a quarter hour. But for some reason all your renowned charm seems to vanish when it comes to Laura.” He tugged his own sleeves down and straightened his coat lapels. “You’ve been married for two months, and so far all you’ve done is build a mountain of misunderstandings. You and I may no longer be friends, Jason, but for Laura’s sake and your own, I hope you give some thought to what I’ve said.” Turning away, Hale walked to the front hall, snatched up his greatcoat, and left without a backward glance.

  Jason stared after him, his brows drawn together in a frown. Slowly he went to the stairs and sat down, raking his hands through his disheveled hair. He thought of his wife in bed, clad in one of her demure white gowns, her long hair braided loosely, her skin flushed with sleep. He had gone in there countless nights to watch her while she slept, being careful never to awaken her. The sight of her never failed to arouse him unbearably.

  When Laura was awake, however, her green eyes seemed to say what everyone else did, that Jason was unworthy of her, that Cyril Prescott’s daughter should never have married so far beneath her. But…what if that expression in her eyes was not disdain? What if it was something else entirely? Was it possible that he had made his own wife afraid of him?

  Cursing, Jason thought over the past weeks and counted the scant number of times he had been gentle with Laura—God, no, he had been too busy dwelling on her resentment of him. As much as Jason hated to admit it, Hale had been right about something. There were misunderstandings that had to be cleared away, for both their sakes.

  Laura’s cup rattled in its saucer as Jason’s broad shoulders filled the doorway of the breakfast room. Hastily she set the saucer down and lowered her gaze to the linen tablecloth. The silence was agonizing. Should she say something? Something accusing, something appeasing. Words of forgiveness?…reproach? Perhaps—

  “Laura.”

  His voice was quiet and serious. Blankly she looked up at him, her eyes shadowed from a sleepless night.

  Jason was struck by how young she looked, silhouetted against the white lace curtains at the window. Her chestnut hair was pulled into a coiled braid at the nape of her neck and tied with velvet ribbons. The pointed basque of her chocolate-brown dress was buttoned high up to her throat, the sleeves long and puffed at the tops. In spite of the strain evident on her delicate features, she was as lovely as always.

  Jason could not stop his gaze from flickering to the curve of her breasts molded beneath the tight-fitting bodice, and the flash of white throat above the tiny lace collar. Quickly he looked away before she could read his overwhelming desire. He wanted her desperately. It would have been a simple matter to find release with another woman, but Laura was the only one he wanted. Perhaps, he thought cynically, it was a just punishment for his past sins, being married to a woman who was revolted by his touch.

  “Jason,” Laura said, gathering up her courage. “After last night, I—”

  “No,” he interrupted. “Let me speak first.”

  She fell silent in confusion. There was an expression on Jason’s face she had never seen before, earnest and uncomfortable. The way his eyes searched hers caused a wave of heat to rise from her neck to her face.

  “I’m sorry for what I said—and did—last night,” Jason said in a low voice. “I was angry. I wanted to hurt you.”

  Unconsciously she raised her fingers to her throat. “You did,” she replied softly.

  “It will not happen again.”

  Laura had never been so surprised, not even the day he had proposed to her. She heard herself murmuring something, but the voice did not seem to belong to her. “This is the f-first time you’ve ever apologized to me.”

  Jason smiled at that, his eyes alight with self-mockery. “It may be the first time I’ve ever apologized to anyone. I’ve always thought of it as a sign of weakness I couldn’t afford.”

  Laura did not know if she was more relieved or astonished by his oddly agreeable manner. “Will you have some breakfast?” she asked, trying to hide her nervousness.

  “No.” Jason ventured further into the room, lean and handsome in his tailored black coat, gray trousers, and quietly patterned vest. As he came close to her, she rose from her chair and backed away a step or two. He appeared not to notice her involuntary movement. “I have a great deal of business to attend to this morning,” he said. “And I’ll be home late tonight.” A brief hesitation followed before he added, “I thought that tomorrow morning we would leave to spend the rest of the week at your sister’s home in Brookline.”

  “Brookline? But your work—”

  “The world won’t come to an end if I stop working for a few days.”

  Laura was astounded. For as long as she had known him, Jason had been obsessed with his work. “We have never accepted Sophia’s invitations before,” she said. “Why would you want to spend time with my family when you’ve made it clear—”

  “Yes, I know what I’ve made clear—and what I haven’t.” He took another step toward her, and she skittered back once more. “Laura,” he said gently, capturing her wrist with ease. He held her hand so lightly that she could have pulled away with little effort. “If you would rather not go to Brookline…”

  “Oh, no, I—I think it would be a fine idea.”

  His thumb slipped into her palm and lingered in the soft hollow, and she felt the sensation of his caress all the way down to her knees.

  “Good,” he murmured.

  They were standing close enough for her to detect the scent of his cologne. She felt him looking down at her, and in vain she waited for him to release her hand. But he waited patiently as well, making no move to let go. After long seconds dragged by she raised her head.

  “You haven’t said you’ll forgive me,” he remarked.

  “I—I do.”

  His thumb still played idly in her palm, and she knew that he could not help but be aware of her agitation. Slowly, easily, his free arm slid around her. Laura endured the closeness for a few seconds before a natural reflex caused her to break free of him with a sound of protest. Horrified, she retreated to the side of the room, certain he would jeer at her. She waited for a rebuke that never came. Instead there was silence.

  Jason approached her with the smoothness of a panther, not stopping until she was
flattened against the wall and he was just inches away. He rested one forearm over her head, his body looming over hers. For an instant she recalled how it had felt to be crushed against that hard body.

  “Laura…” His voice was husky. His hand slid to the back of her neck and tilted her face toward him. “In the past two months you’ve guided me in many things. And in spite of my display last night, you’ve even managed to teach me a few manners. But now…” Before she could move, he brushed his lips across her forehead. “Now there are some things I’d like to teach you.”

  Nervous chills ran down Laura’s spine. She could not deny him. It was a wife’s duty to submit to her husband’s embrace, no matter how much she dreaded the prospect. “Whatever you wish,” she said emotionlessly, her nerves writhing in turmoil.

  A smile pulled the corner of his lips at her dutiful answer. “What I wish for is a kiss from my wife.”

  Laura searched his midnight eyes for mockery, and found an oddly challenging gleam. He expected her to refuse, she thought. She would show him that she was not afraid of him. Only a kiss…it was not such a dreadful request.

  She held her breath and summoned all her courage, standing on her toes to accommodate the difference in their heights. Gingerly she pressed her lips to his, her palms falling to his shoulders for balance. To her surprise, the closeness was not unpleasant. His mouth was warm against hers, his shoulders hard and steady underneath her hands. He did not crush her in his arms or frighten her as he had so many times before.

  Red-faced and trembling, she ended the kiss and sank to her heels, beginning to breathe again. But it appeared Jason was not through with her. His dark head bent, and his lips drifted over her temple, the curve of her cheek, the tiny hollow behind her earlobe. Laura’s hands clenched into fists against his shoulders.