Faith

by Deneane Clark

  “Faith!” she hissed, then repeated herself in a more urgent tone.

  “Pardon me,” said her sister to Horatio and changed the focus of her attention. “What in the world?”

  Grace nudged her in the ribs with an elbow and jerked her head in the direction she wanted Faith to look. Faith followed her sister’s gaze.

  To someone who did not know her well, it would not have appeared that Faith had any reaction to seeing her husband in London when she’d thought him safely tucked away in the country. Grace, however, knew her sister quite well. She recognized the nearly invisible tightening of her lips, the sudden chill perfection of her posture. Faith was almost regally incensed. And it didn’t help that Gareth was looking at her at the precise moment she saw him. He didn’t move, didn’t look away. He simply waited to see what Faith would do.

  Instead of so much as nodding to acknowledge his presence, Faith smiled tightly, then leaned down to whisper something to her sister. Then, of all things, she laid her hand on the arm of the Earl of Jameson and strolled out onto the dance floor with him.

  Gareth watched his wife and her dance partner begin, then turned away. It wasn’t until Faith’s sister walked up and greeted him that he was able to acknowledge the fact that he was coldly furious. He nodded tightly at her warm hello and looked for his wife on the dance floor again. She was smiling at Horatio, engaged in an animated conversation with him while they danced, and she didn’t spare a single glance in his direction. He continued watching until the waltz drew to a close and his treacherous wife and Jameson walked off the floor together. It seemed he had found Faith’s lover.

  “Excuse me,” Gareth said, his voice clipped. “I’m going to step outside for some air.”

  The group watched him go. Trevor and Jon exchanged looks over their wives’ heads, silently agreeing that it wasn’t necessary to get involved. Grace and Amanda weren’t sure what to think.

  “Honestly, Grace, how could she?” Amanda asked in a whisper.

  Grace shook her head. “I think there is a great deal we don’t know. We need to find a way to get them together, to make them interact.”

  Amanda shook her head. “Gareth will leave first. He’s not just angry with her; he’s hurt about something, too. He hasn’t told me what it is, but there’s so much more behind the way he’s acting than just a spat between a husband and wife who don’t know one another very well.”

  “She loves him,” promised Grace quietly.

  “And he loves her,” agreed Amanda.

  The pair glanced at Faith, who had finished her dance with Horatio and was now standing alone, looking somehow utterly lost in the midst of the crush of people surrounding her.

  “Terrace?” Grace looked determined.

  “Terrace,” Amanda agreed, and off they went without a word to their husbands.

  The men watched them go. “This can’t be good,” said Trevor. He raised an eyebrow and kept an eye on his wife’s distinctive gold-red hair as she made her way, with Amanda, toward Faith. Jon shook his head. The women reached their destination, and each linked an arm through Faith’s, herding her inexorably toward their destination.

  “Terrace?” Jon’s voice was grim.

  Trevor nodded. “Terrace. Definitely,” he replied.

  “But I just got here,” protested Faith with a little laugh. “I really don’t need fresh air yet.”

  “You look flushed after your dance,” said Grace, decisively.

  “Yes,” agreed Amanda. “A bit of night air will be just the thing to put the roses back into your cheeks.”

  Faith raised an eyebrow. “I’m flushed and pale?”

  “Um, w-well,” stammered Amanda. “You have a pallor. Beneath the…um…flush.” She looked at Grace for help.

  Grace snorted. “You’re not very good at this.”

  Faith stopped abruptly, looking back and forth between her friend and sister. “Is Gareth out on the terrace?”

  The conspirators looked at one another guiltily but said nothing.

  “I’m not going out there. I have no intention of seeing him tonight…or on any other night, for that matter.” Faith pulled her arms from theirs and turned to walk away, only to find her path blocked by Trevor and Jon. “Oh, for goodness’ sake! You’re in on it, too?” She crossed her arms and looked around, noting the interested stares from the other ball attendees. “We’re beginning to attract attention.”

  “All the more reason to go out on the terrace,” said Grace with an impish smirk.

  “Hush, Grace,” said Amanda and Trevor together.

  “What’s on the terrace?”

  Faith stiffened and whirled around at her husband’s voice. She raked the rest of the group with a contemptuous glare and lifted her chin. “Fresh air, my lord,” she answered. “I am, apparently, rather flushed and in need of it. Will you excuse me, please?” She executed a little half curtsy, narrowed her eyes at her sister, and stepped around the group to escape through the French doors.

  Grace moved to follow, but Gareth caught her arm. “I’ll go. This needs to be handled.”

  He stepped outside and closed the doors behind him, muffling the sounds of the ball within. Faith wasn’t in sight. He sighed and walked down the terrace to the left, where he knew he’d find a shadowy alcove.

  Faith heard the measured footsteps approaching and closed her eyes. This was not an encounter she was prepared to handle. For once in her life, she was willing to run away from a problem instead of solving it, and she meant to turn her back on this one forever. She did not intend to ever again allow herself to feel the sort of pain she’d felt after Gareth accused her of having a lover.

  “Faith.”

  She opened her eyes and sighed, but did not look at him. She stared instead out into the darkness. “Yes, my lord?”

  God, she was beautiful. He cleared his throat awkwardly, wincing inside at the formal way she addressed him. “I thought perhaps we could begin again.”

  Faith shook her head a little and looked down. “No, please,” she said, her voice low.

  Gareth leaned forward, unsure he’d heard correctly. “No?”

  She finally looked up at him. Her eyes were clear and calm. “No. We are continually ‘beginning again.’ I’ll be whatever you want me to be, Gareth. Your wife, your former wife, whichever. But I will not be with you ever again.”

  He narrowed his eyes. This was not at all going as he’d planned. He’d thought to apologize, to cajole, perhaps, and to entice. He hadn’t imagined she would flatly refuse to cooperate. Or that it would make him feel so out of his depth. He gave her a hard look. “You really don’t have a choice, Faith.”

  “Legally, no. I do not. But I know from what you have told me that you don’t want to be trapped in a loveless marriage. You want nothing less than what your parents had.”

  “Are you telling me you don’t love me? You’re admitting that you never can?”

  Faith swallowed past the sudden lump in her throat, her heart pounding. She shook her head. “I—”

  “Say it!” he bit out. His eyes were a glittering, dark obsidian in this shadowy nook, and when he took a step toward her, Faith instinctively shrank back. “You have to tell me.”

  Anger sparked, both with Gareth and with herself for almost cowering before him. She drew herself up to her full height and leaned forward. “I don’t love you.” Her voice, firm and sure, rang out in the stillness. “I never shall.”

  Gareth stopped his advance, stared hard into her eyes. They were brimming with unshed tears, awash in pain, at odds with her harsh words. It surprised him. “I don’t believe you.”

  “I don’t care what you believe,” she returned, her voice tired. She walked forward, tried to step around him, but he stepped in front of her. “Let me go, please.”

  “No.” A muscle worked in his jaw. He stared over her head into the blackness beyond the balustrade. “It doesn’t matter that you don’t love me. You are my wife, and I’m taking you home.”

/>   She shook her head again, harder. “No. I won’t go.”

  “You will go.” He grasped her upper arm. “Your choice: If you want to save your reputation, you can come willingly, and you can smile at me the way you smiled at your lover while you danced with him.” He watched her closely. “Or I can drag you out of here. I’ll toss you over my shoulder, if I have to. One way or the other, you’re coming home with me. Tonight.”

  Faith pressed her lips together and squared her shoulders. “You…are vile,” she said through clenched teeth, her tone laced with contempt. “But I’ll go willingly. For now.”

  “Then smile, Lady Roth. We’ll go say our good-byes.” Gareth stepped aside to allow her to pass before following her back inside.

  Unseen by either the marquess or the marchioness, Horatio Grimsby stepped out of the shadows and watched them go, his eyes narrowed on Gareth’s back.

  Thirty-three

  Though it was not a great distance from the ball to Gareth’s town house, the usual snarl of evening traffic made the ride uncomfortably long. Faith and Gareth rode in silence, their eyes averted, looking anywhere but at one another. A couple of times Gareth cleared his throat as though he intended to say something. Faith jumped in reaction the first time. The second, she merely blinked and looked out the window.

  At home, Gareth exited the coach and reached in to politely help Faith disembark. She took his hand and gracefully descended, then allowed him to escort her up the stairs and through the door the butler had opened when he heard the vehicle arrive. Faith surrendered her wrap without a word and stood waiting for him to indicate what would happen next.

  Placing a hand on the small of her back, Gareth guided her through the foyer to the curving staircase.

  “Where are we going?” Faith asked.

  “My chamber.”

  Faith stopped halfway up the stairs. “I do not wish to be alone with you.”

  Gareth raised a brow. “And I do not wish to have the servants overhear our discussion.”

  She frowned. His words made perfect sense. Still…“Surely there is somewhere else we can go and not be overheard.” She took another step, compelled by the pressure of his hand on her back. “The gardens, perhaps,” she offered.

  Gareth made a face at this reminder that although she was his wife, she had never been to his home here in Town. “There is no garden here, Faith. I rather thought that might be something you’d take an interest in developing.”

  Faith’s heart wrenched. The thought of being given a free hand to create something beautiful here, to make this her home as well as his in every way, was something she would have dearly loved. Distracted by such thoughts, she resumed climbing the stairs and allowed Gareth to guide her down the carpeted hall to his chamber.

  Once inside, he closed the doors and turned to face her. “I’m willing to listen to your explanation now, Faith.”

  Instantly, all her little domestic imaginings fled, replaced by the same weary anger she’d harbored since she’d left Rothmere. She lifted her chin and looked back at him in resignation. “I have no idea what you wish me to say, my lord.”

  “You could begin by telling me why.”

  She shook her head. “I cannot give you an explanation for something that does not exist. Nor do I wish to defend myself against unfounded accusations.”

  “You’ve never denied the accusation.”

  “There is nothing to deny.”

  Gareth stared at her a long moment, then shook his head. “What do you propose we do, then, princess?”

  Faith took a deep breath. “I’d like to go home to Pelthamshire. To stay.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “It is your intention to let our marriage simply stagnate? You live your life while I live mine?”

  His voice was dangerously soft, and Faith felt the underlying anger in each of his few words. Still, she plunged recklessly ahead, her voice only trembling a little. “I’d be perfectly willing to look the other way, my lord, should you decide to take a mistress.”

  His anger, simmering just below the surface, abruptly reached the boiling point. Gareth took a step toward her. “Wouldn’t that be nice for you, princess?” His voice was nearly a snarl. “You could keep your lover and soothe your guilt at denying me an heir with the fact that I’ve also taken a lover.”

  Faith said nothing, but two bright spots of color appeared on her cheeks, and her hands balled into little fists at her sides. She resisted the urge to retreat when he took another step forward.

  “You still do not deny it?” He reached out, grasping her chin in his hand.

  She gasped in fearful reaction, but met his eyes bravely. “You have no proof.”

  At her words, Gareth smiled. Slowly, angrily. “Proof,” he repeated. “You’ve denied me that, too, haven’t you?” But proof he could get…and easily. He remembered the way she’d responded to him in the caretaker’s cottage and knew he could evoke that response again, especially if she didn’t see it coming.

  Deliberately, he released her chin but did not remove his hand, sliding it instead to softly cup her cheek.

  Faith flinched at the sudden gentling of her husband’s touch. She caught her breath, tried to keep her eyes on his, then closed them, afraid he’d see the sudden uncertainty she felt. Her heart fluttered a bit before it began pounding so hard she was sure he would hear. “What are you doing?”

  “Faith…”

  Her eyes flew open at the soft sound of her name on his lips. “M-my lord?” She hated the breathy quality of her voice, hated the way the floor was tilting away beneath her, hated the fact that she needed to reach out just now and place her hand on his chest to keep her balance.

  He covered that hand with his, began stroking her cheek with his thumb. “I’m going to kiss you,” he warned, and stepped closer.

  “No!” she protested, but the sound was cut off as he took her face between both of his hands and bent forward to capture her lips with his. A small, soft noise, almost a whimper, escaped her throat as she struggled one last time to gain control.

  The struggle was short. His scent assailed her, made it impossible for her to think. All she could do was react and follow her instincts. With a sigh, she melted against him, slid her hands around his chest, and tilted her head back. She kissed him in return, her lips melting into his, everything else falling away. She kissed him further, pouring into that kiss all her hopes and dreams that their marriage could be one of love and gentle beauty. She kissed him back, not knowing what she evoked.

  Gareth gathered her close, slid one hand into the hair at the nape of her neck, and slipped his tongue along the crease between her lips. Immediately, she parted them for him.

  “Yes,” he murmured. “Kiss me, princess. Just like that.”

  Softly, shyly, her tongue met his. Gareth moaned and deepened the kiss, his tongue plunging inside her mouth, tasting her, coaxing a response. Without breaking the kiss, he swept her up in his arms and walked with her to the bed.

  “Gareth?” She whispered his name uncertainly when he trailed his lips across her cheek while settling her against the pillows. His hands fell away a moment, and she whimpered a little. The loss of contact was fleeting, though, and her fears vanished when he joined her on the bed and stretched out beside her.

  Softly he smoothed back the hair that had fallen across her cheek. “So beautiful,” he murmured. His passion-dark eyes caught and held hers, and she saw that he meant it. She turned toward him, nuzzling her cheek against his shirt. He moved his hand from her face and settled it, heavy and warm, on her rib cage. Tenderly, he kissed the top of her golden head, knowing that although he’d set out with the intention to seduce her, he had now become, through her innocent, unknowing responses, the one seduced.

  “Faith, listen to me.”

  She nodded, her cheek rubbing softly against his chest.

  “I’ll not do this without your agreement.” She became still, held her breath. “I need you to release me from the promise I made to
your sister.”

  Faith bit into her lower lip and tried to think, but it was hard, so hard, when she was pressed up against him like this, when she could breathe him in, when she could draw from his warmth and from his strength. The loneliness she’d felt since they first quarreled was receding, and she didn’t want it back, didn’t ever want to feel that yawning emptiness again. And yet…

  “I’m scared,” she whispered in a small voice.

  Gareth’s heart slammed into his ribs. He forgot, utterly forgot, that she’d betrayed him, lied to him, and forsaken her vows. In that instant, all he wanted in all the world was to protect her, to make this one beautiful girl feel safe from everything, even from him.

  “I know,” he replied, his voice husky. He pulled back a little. “Look at me.”

  Faith lifted her face, her gray eyes luminous with vulnerability.

  “We have now,” he said. “And we have forever.” He paused, searching for words that weren’t jarring or hurtful. “We can’t change what we’ve done and said to one another. We can only try to let it go…if you would like.”

  Slowly, she nodded. She opened her mouth to say the words that would release him from his promise, then stopped. “Will we—?” She halted in midquestion, lifted her hand, and placed her trembling fingers softly on his lips. “Yes,” she murmured, answering her own unfinished question, then added, “Yes, please.”

  Gareth groaned and kissed her fingertips, then took her lips again in a long, drugging kiss that chased away her fears and banished any remaining doubt. His mouth left hers to travel over her chin, blazing a path of sensation down the slim column of her neck to her collarbone. He ran his lips along it, reveling in the feel of her soft skin over the deceptive strength of that delicate bone.

  Faith gasped in pure pleasure, felt liquid heat uncurl from the center of her being and blossom outward in waves of engulfing sensation. Every inch of her felt alive. Her skin tingled with awareness, thirsty to be touched. Her hands almost ached with the need to touch him, a need she knew he shared.