A Collector's Item: Rowena's After Dark Regency Romance (The Arlingbys Book 1)
Page 26
Once again his mouth closed over hers, his hands gripping her shoulders so that she could not move. She struggled for a moment, but the dark power of her attraction for Alaric soon overwhelmed her, and she found herself returning his kiss with a fervency that alarmed her. She knew he felt nothing for her but anger and a cold desire, that any small feelings of love that might have arisen in the past weeks had been extinguished forever by her foolish actions. But her feelings for him still raged out of control. If this was all she could have of him, she thought wretchedly, she would take it. A small tear trickled down her cheek as her arms encircled his neck.
Alaric raised his head for a moment and looked at her. "There is no need for more acting, my dear," he said, flicking the tear away with a casual finger. "I know you have no real feelings for me, but I can still make you want me, apparently. And that is all that is needed."
He made love to her with a soulless intensity that frightened Rowena badly. Again and again he brought her to climax, only to withhold his own until she was so exhausted she was almost in tears. His touch was masterful, and she obeyed his every wish silently, telling herself that if they had this at least there was the chance to rebuild what they had had before. When he was done, Alaric rolled off her, picked up his robe, and stalked out of the room, closing the door behind him. Rowena cried herself to sleep, too exhausted for even her worries to keep her awake.
The next morning Alaric sat at the breakfast table, the food on his plate untouched, his face blank of emotion. Ferguson cast him an uneasy glance. This was the way the Earl had looked before his marriage, cold and detached, his mind concentrated on his collection and other pleasures. Since Lady Brayleigh had joined the household, it had seemed to the servants that there had been a visible thawing in their master, that he smiled more often and more easily and took a greater interest in the simpler joys of life. Now it seemed something was seriously amiss.
"Is there anything else you require, my lord?" he asked formally.
"What? No, thank you, Ferguson." Alaric seemed to look through the butler, as though the other man’s presence was barely noticeable. He stared down at his hands as the butler bowed and left the room. He still could not believe what had happened the day before, the way a few short hours had changed the entire course of his life. Rowena, the one woman he had thought he could trust, the exception to his universal wariness of her sex, had betrayed him. Her loyalty was with her brother, and their marriage was a masquerade on her part, designed only to serve the purpose of destroying him.
He shook his head. He despised himself for letting Rowena manipulate him. To think that he had trusted her, listened to her advice, shared his life with her in a way that he had never done with a woman before. He had dreamt of a life with her and their children, had given up his relentless pursuit of valuable objects because she occupied his thoughts at all times. He had almost come to love her.
He hastily pushed the thought out of his mind. Love was not an emotion he cared for. He had never loved Rowena, he told himself, but he had esteemed her, respected her, and cared for her. And she had repaid him in false coin. Malcolm was probably laughing at him now. Perhaps Alaric had thwarted his enemy’s attempts to turn him over to the magistrates for murder, but Arlingby had punished him in a much more effective manner. His life had been torn to pieces before his very eyes as he watched Rowena sift through the contents of his safe. He wondered if the two of them had planned that he should suffer so. He could picture them in the garden at the Burlington ball, their blonde heads close together, laughing at the near-fulfillment of their plans.
Alaric’s hands clenched into fists at the thought. Perhaps they thought they had won, but he would prove to them that their victory was not complete. Rowena was his now, he thought angrily. He had taken her as his wife, and a wife she would be to him. Memories of the night before flooded through his brain, of Rowena’s distress followed by her passionate response. The first was false, he was sure, but the second...he knew that, no matter what, she wanted him. No one could feign the response she had to him, the way she shivered and cried out his name when she climaxed. And if that was all that he had left of her, he would take it. Never again would she forget who was master. She would pay for her treatment of him.
The door to the dining room flew open and Rowena stood in the doorway. Alaric noted with grim satisfaction that she looked tired, and that the usual faint glow of pink was absent from her cheeks. Perhaps she was beginning to understand what she had gotten herself into, he thought with satisfaction. He would never allow her to leave him. The world would never know of this betrayal. It was horrible enough to think of Malcolm, Rowena and Marguerite laughing at him, but he would stop them from turning him into a public laughingstock.
"Good morning," she said breathlessly. She had half-hoped that she might arrive before Alaric, but now he sat before her, the same closed look on his face that had been there the night before. Her eyes hastily scanned the table and she noted that Ferguson had not yet brought in the morning’s letters. She breathed a silent sigh of relief. Perhaps it would still be possible to keep Alaric from learning that she meant to meet Malcolm today.
Alaric inclined his head coldly and watched as Rowena seated herself. She gave him a sidelong glance from her wide violet eyes but did not attempt further conversation. She would simply have to prove to Alaric by her actions that she was worthy of his trust, she thought. Sooner or later she would be able to reach him, when he was not so terrifyingly angry. The dark, unreadable man who sat at the head of the table was almost unrecognizable to her. Even at his most forbidding, she had sensed a compatibility of spirit with Alaric. But this man, and the man who had come to her bed last night, was a complete stranger to her.
The door opened again and Ferguson entered, bearing a pile of letters and invitations on a silver tray. He placed it on the table at Alaric’s elbow and then paused for a moment, surveying the scene. His lordship still looked furious, and the Countess appeared to be subdued. He breathed a silent sigh. It would have been too much to expect the good humor of the past weeks to continue. Society marriages were seldom happy.
"Will there be anything else, my lord?"
Alaric shook his head. Ferguson left the room, and Rowena leaned towards the tray, attempting not to appear too eager.
"Is there anything for me?" she asked.
Alaric gave her an inquiring glance. Apparently she was not so upset by their situation that she intended to abandon the social whirl. His contempt for her rose a bit higher. How could she think of entertainments when she had just ruined his life? He shoved the tray towards her with a snort.
"Look for yourself."
Rowena gave him an apprehensive glance and then began to sort through the little pile of envelopes, quickly separating out those addressed to her. She easily located a note addressed in the same hand as the one she had received the day before, and with a quick movement slid it under an invitation.
Alaric gave her a shrewd look. She bent her head and took a sip of tea.
"Aren’t you going to eat?" he asked.
She shook her head silently. The thought of food made her stomach turn.
"You’ll need to keep your strength up," said Alaric softly. He watched with a hint of malicious pleasure as she colored.
"No, thank you," she said in as composed a voice as she could muster.
There was a moment of silence and then Alaric nodded towards the little pile of paper at her elbow. "You were quite eager to receive your mail. Aren’t you going to open it?"
"I can do that later," answered Rowena.
"You usually open the letters while you eat breakfast," observed Alaric. "Is today somehow different?"
Rowena shrugged. "Very well, if you insist." She picked up the first envelope with ill grace and opened it with a knife. An invitation card for a soiree the following week fell out. Alaric reached across and picked it up, looking at it idly.
"Will you attend?" he asked.
"Will y
ou let me?" she shot back.
Alaric’s eyebrows rose. "You are not a prisoner, Rowena. You may come and go as you please, although I presume you will no longer expect me to dance attendance on you. However, I do not recommend attempting to see your brother. I would surely find out about it."
Rowena froze at his words. There was an ominous sound to them. "Are you having me followed?" she demanded.
Alaric shrugged, pleased at having disturbed her composure. "I wouldn’t test me, if I were you, Rowena."
Rowena tossed her head and picked up the next envelope. It was a note from Lady Belmont, asking her to stop by sometime soon. She had the most delightful gossip to relate to her beloved niece. Rowena put the piece of paper down, feeling slightly dizzy. These notes and invitations seemed to come from another world, one in which everything worked in a logical manner. Her life had become decidedly less tidy in the past day.
"You haven’t opened everything," observed Alaric, nodding at the neatly folded paper that still lay by her plate. She had attempted to tuck it partially under her napkin, but Alaric had apparently been watching her carefully.
"Haven’t I?" She looked about curiously, and Alaric pointed at the note, an unpleasant smile on his face. Rowena picked it up reluctantly and held it gingerly in her hands.
"Don’t let me disturb you," said Alaric, picking up his knife and fork and attacking his breakfast.
Rowena wondered how he could eat when her own stomach was tied in knots. She carefully slit the letter open and scanned its contents, keeping one eye anxiously on her husband.
My dear Rowena,
I am looking forward to our meeting today and your confirmation that Brayleigh does indeed have the pearl in his possession. I cannot possibly express my gratitude to you and my eagerness to put this unpleasant business behind us. Soon I will take my place in Society and you will be relieved of the burden of your husband. Meet me at the Queen’s Walk in Green Park at two-o-clock this afternoon. Wait there and I will come to you.
Malcolm
Rowena noticed her hand was shaking and hastily folded the note and tucked it among her other missives. Alaric looked up from his breakfast.
"Not bad news, I hope?"
"Not at all. My friend Miss Battleby simply wished to apprise me of the amorous adventures of one of our friends. I gather she might soon be married." Rowena stared at her plate as she spoke, willing herself not to flush.
"With your recent experience, you might recommend that she not rush into anything," said Alaric dryly.
Rowena decided she couldn’t take his sarcasm for another minute. This coldness where she used to find warmth was more distressing to her than she had thought possible. She gathered up her letters and stood up.
"May I go?" she asked.
Alaric looked surprised. "You are totally in control of your own actions, Rowena. Have I indicated that you must ask me for permission to move about?"
Rowena shook her head.
"Do not try to paint me as an ogre, my dear. I am the wronged party, not you." Alaric’s gaze hardened as he watched her. How could someone so soft, so tender, so seemingly generous, betray him in such a manner, he wondered. It seemed impossible that such beauty hid so devious a heart.
"I told you the truth yesterday," Rowena burst out, despite a feeling of hopelessness. She knew that Alaric would not listen to her.
"It is useless to belabor the point. Please, do as you wish today." Alaric turned back to his breakfast and did not look up when Rowena ran from the room, her letters clutched in her hand. But after she had gone he pushed his plate aside and gripped the edge of the table with taut fingers. It had been almost impossibly difficult to face her. He had wanted simultaneously to seize her by the shoulders and shake her furiously and to snatch her up into his arms and make love to her. But he would not lose control. She would never know how close she had come to making a complete fool of him.
Chapter 29
Rowena looked down the Queen’s Walk anxiously, wondering where Malcolm might be. Green Park, which was not a fashionable gathering place and therefore relatively unknown to Rowena, stretched before her, but she could not bring herself to concentrate on its bucolic beauty. She felt as though if her brother did not appear in a moment she would scream. Lack of sleep and anxiety had stretched her nerves to the breaking point. She had to tell her brother that it was necessary to mend her marriage before she could help him any further. Perhaps he might be convinced to return to the Continent until she could find the true killer. She couldn’t imagine living with Alaric, trying to repair the damage she had done, while knowing that Malcolm might be arrested at any moment.
She stepped back towards the shrubbery when she heard the clatter of horse’s hooves. It was important that no one see her and perhaps mention to Alaric that she had been seen unattended in Green Park. It had been difficult enough for her to convince Lawson to return home from their shopping trip without her and to find a hackney to convey her here. If anything went awry, her situation would only become worse.
There was a sudden commotion in the bushes behind her, and Malcolm stepped out, a jaunty grin on his face. He was dressed in sober black and wore a brown wig over his hair. Rowena had to smile when he swept her a courtly bow completely at odds with his costume.
"I seem to have quite a knack for this sort of thing," he said cheerfully. "Perhaps when this matter is cleared up I will become a spy for the government."
"I thought you simply wanted to become Lord Wroxton," teased Rowena.
"It might be rather dull after the exciting life I’ve led. Just think of it, Rowena. I could be a gentleman spy. It sounds like quite the life, doesn’t it?"
Rowena shook her head at his irrepressible enthusiasm. She could tell that it was his high spirits and volatile nature that both made him so charming and caused him so much trouble.
"Perhaps you would enjoy it. But I cannot abide this skulking about. Malcolm, you must tell me where I can reach you. You aren’t staying with Lady Bingham, are you?"
"Lord, no." Malcolm shrugged. "She may have brought me here, but she won’t risk her neck by keeping me in her house. I’ve got a room at the White Swan. It’s not a nice part of London, but I’m used to that. You can reach me there."
"You will probably be glad to settle down and become a sober peer, managing your rolling estates," said Rowena thoughtfully. "I would think you’ve had enough excitement in your life."
Malcolm shuddered. "Never. I won’t be like father, holing up in Yorkshire all year ‘round. I need gaiety and fun. And I’ll have enough of it soon. You found the pearl, didn’t you?"
Rowena bit her lip. She had been wondering ever since she arrived how much she should tell Malcolm about what had happened. She had no desire to further inflame his anger towards Alaric, but it was imperative that he understand he must not interfere.
"No, I didn't," she said. "The pearl wasn't in the safe."
"Are you sure? Perhaps you didn't search thoroughly enough. Did you look in every box and corner?" Malcolm appeared to be quite agitated.
Rowena nodded her head firmly. "I looked everywhere. I promise you, Malcolm, Alaric does not have it in his possession."
"Damn it!" Malcolm’s expression changed from one of anxiety to sheer rage. He swung his arm as though he wished to punch something. "The bastard must have learned what we were up to. He knew you would be looking for it. He hid it somewhere else. I should have known he’d be a step or two ahead of me."
Rowena seized his arm and pulled on it, trying to calm him down. "Malcolm, you mustn't get upset. Remember, you promised me that you would believe that Alaric was not the murderer if the Pearl of Sirsi was not in that safe. You can't imagine that he has it somewhere else, when it is so clearly where he keeps all his most valuable items."
Malcolm stared down at her, his eyes full of pain. "I cannot believe that he had no knowledge of this. I know the man; he’s in league with the devil. He must have somehow found out about our plans."
"Malcolm, you must let go of this wild notion of yours. Alaric does not have the pearl. Another person plotted to cast the blame for this crime on you both, because he or she craved the pearl. You must not blame my husband any longer. He is as much a victim of circumstance as you are." Rowena gripped Malcolm’s arm as she spoke, willing him to believe her.
Malcolm shook his head. "It cannot be. This was my last chance, Rowena. If Brayleigh does not have the pearl, there is no hope for me." His voice trailed off.
"Nonsense," answered Rowena, trying her best to sound certain. "Just because Alaric is not guilty doesn’t mean we cannot find out who is. It will just take some time and effort. I will be glad to help you, but you must promise me you will stop pursuing Alaric."
Malcolm stared at the ground. "I was so certain it would be in the safe. Do you think he might have hidden it somewhere else?"
"No, I don't," snapped Rowena. "Really, Malcolm, you are impossible to talk to. Alaric is innocent, and you must accept that."
Her brother looked up, and Rowena could see that his face was very pale. "But I have believed that for twelve years. How could it be anyone else?"
"Many people also believe you are guilty, but that does not make it so. I am losing all patience with you. Malcolm, you must promise me that you will leave England until I can begin to unravel this mystery. I swear I will contact you as soon as I have information that can help you."
Malcolm looked at her thoughtfully. "You really believe Brayleigh is innocent, don’t you?"
"Of course I do. He is very kind, Malcolm. He would no more be capable of doing such a thing than you are."