by Lisa Kleypas
Kev could barely hear his own rasping voice, his pulse hammering with confusion and despair and fury.
"Maybe I should ask the Lanhams. Would they agree that she'd be safer with you?"
And without glancing to judge the effect of his words, Kev strode from the library.
Win's sense of unease grew as evening settled over the house. She stayed in the parlor with her sisters and Miss Marks until Beatrix had tired of reading. The only relief from Win's growing tension was in watching the antics of Beatrix's ferret, Dodger, who seemed enamored of Miss Marks, despite-or perhaps because of-her obvious antipathy. He kept creeping up to the governess and trying to steal one of her knitting needles, while she watched him with narrowed eyes.
"Don't even consider it," Miss Marks told the hopeful ferret with chilling calm. "Or I'll cut off your tail with a carving knife."
Beatrix grinned. "I thought that only happened to blind mice, Miss Marks,"
"It works on any offending rodent," Miss Marks returned darkly.
"Ferrets are not rodents, actually," Beatrix said. "They're classified as mustelidae. Weasels. So one might say the ferret is a distant cousin of the mouse."
"It's not a family I'd care to become closely acquainted with," Poppy said.
Dodger draped himself across the arm of the settee and pinned a love-struck gaze on Miss Marks, who ignored him.
Win smiled and stretched. "I'm fatigued. I'll bid everyone good night now."
"I'm fatigued as well," Amelia said, covering a deep yawn.
"Perhaps we should all retire," Miss Marks suggested, deftly packing away her knitting in a little basket.
They all went to their rooms, while Win's nerves bristled in the ominous silence of the hallway. Where was Merripen? What had been said between him and Julian?
A lamp burned low in her room, its glow pushing feebly against the encroaching shadows. She blinked as she saw a motionless form in the corner… Merripen, occupying a chair.
"Oh," she breathed in surprise.
His gaze tracked her as she came closer to him.
"Kev?" she asked hesitantly, while a chill slithered down her spine. The talk had not gone well. Something was wrong. "What is it?" she asked huskily.
Merripen stood and towered over her, his expression unfathomable. "Who was the doctor you saw in London, Win? How did you find him?"
Then she understood. Her stomach dropped, and she took a few steadying breaths. "There was no doctor," she said. "I didn't see the need for it."
"You didn't see the need," he repeated slowly.
"No. Because-as Julian said later-I could go from doctor to doctor until I found one who would give me the answer I wanted."
Merripen let out a breath that sounded like a scrape in his throat. He shook his head. "Jesus."
Win had never seen him look so devastated, beyond shouting or anger. She moved toward him with her hand outstretched. "Kev, please, let me-"
"Don't. Please." He was struggling visibly to control himself.
"I'm sorry," she said earnestly. "I wanted you so much, and I was going to have to marry Julian, and I thought if I told you about having seen another doctor, it would… well, push you a bit."
He turned away from her, his hands clenched.
"It makes no difference," Win said, trying to sound calm, trying to think above the desperate pounding of her heart. "It changes nothing, especially after today."
"It makes a difference if you lie to me," he said in a guttural tone.
Romany males could not countenance being manipulated by their women. And she had broken Merripen's trust at a time when he had been particularly vulnerable. He had let down his guard, had let her inside. But how else could she have had him?
"I didn't feel I had a choice," she said. "You're impossibly stubborn when your mind is made up. I didn't know how to change it."
"Then you've just lied again. Because you're not sorry."
"I'm sorry that you're hurt and angry, and I understand how much you-"
She broke off as Merripen moved with astonishing swiftness, seizing her by the upper arms, bringing her up against the wall. His snarling face descended close to hers. "If you understood anything, you wouldn't expect me to give you a baby that will kill you."
Rigid and trembling, she stared into his eyes until she was drowning in darkness. She gulped a deep breath before managing to say stubbornly, "I'll see as many doctors as you like. We'll gather a full variety of opinions, and you can calculate the odds. But no one can predict of a certainty what will happen. And none of it will change how I intend to spend the rest of my life. I will live it on my terms. And you… you can have all of me or nothing. I won't be an invalid any longer. Not even if it means losing you."
"I don't take ultimatums," he said, giving her a little shake. "Least of all from a woman."
Win's eyes went blurry, and she damned the rising tears. She wondered in furious despair why fate seemed determined to withhold from her the ordinary life that other people took for granted. "You arrogant Rom," she said hoarsely. "It's not your choice; it's mine. My body. My risk. And it may already be too late. I may have already conceived-"
"No." He gripped her head and pressed his forehead to hers, his breath striking her lips in bursts of heat. "I can't do this," he said raggedly. "I won't be forced into hurting you."
"Just love me." Win wasn't aware that she was crying until she felt his mouth on her face, his throat vibrating with low growls as he licked at her tears. He kissed her desperately, savaging her mouth with a wildness that made her quiver from head to toe. As he crushed his body against hers, she felt the prodding of his arousal even through the bunched layers of their clothes. It sent a shock of response through all her veins, and she felt her intimate flesh prickling, turning wet. She wanted him inside her, to pull him deep and close, to pleasure him until his ferocity was soothed.
She reached down to the stiff length of him, kneading and gripping until he groaned into her mouth.
She pulled her lips free long enough to gasp, "Take me to bed, Kev. Take me.…"
But he shoved away from her with a vicious curse.
"Kev-"
A scalding glance, and he left the room, the door trembling on its hinges from the abrupt slam.
Chapter Twenty
The early-morning air was fresh and heavy with the promise of rain, a cool breeze sweeping through the half-open window of Cam and Amelia's room. Cam awakened slowly as he felt his wife's voluptuous body snuggling close to his. She always slept in a nightgown made of modest white cambric, with infinite numbers of tucks and tiny ruffles. It never failed to stir him, knowing what splendid curves were concealed beneath the demure garment.
The nightgown had ridden up to her knees during the night. One of her bare legs was hooked over his, her knee resting near his groin. The slight roundness of her stomach pressed against his side. Pregnancy had made her feminine form more ample and delicious. There was a glow about her these days, a burgeoning vulnerability that filled him with an overwhelming urge to protect her. And knowing that the changes in her were caused by his seed, a part of him growing inside her… that was undeniably arousing.
He wouldn't have expected to be this enthralled by Amelia's condition. In the eyes of the Rom, childbirth and all related issues were considered mahrime, polluting events. And since the Irish were notoriously suspicious and prudish when it came to matters of reproduction, there wasn't much on either side of his lineage to justify his delight in his wife's pregnancy. But he couldn't help it. She was the most beautiful and fascinating creature he had ever encountered.
As he patted her hip drowsily, the urge to make love to her was too much to resist. He inched her gown upward and caressed her bare bottom. He kissed her lips, her chin, savoring the fine texture of her skin.
Amelia stirred. " Cam," she murmured sleepily. Her legs parted, inviting more of the gentle exploration.
Cam smiled against her cheek. "What a good little wife you are," he whi
spered in Romany. She stretched and gave a pleasured sigh as his hands slipped over her warm body. He arranged her limbs carefully, stroking and praising her, kissing her breasts. His fingers played between her thighs, teasing wickedly until she began to breathe in quiet moans. Her hands clutched at his back as he mounted her, his body hungry for the warm, wet welcome of her-
A tap at the door. A muffled voice. "Amelia?"
They both froze.
The soft feminine voice tried again. "Amelia?"
"One of my sisters," Amelia whispered.
Cam muttered a curse that explicitly described what he had been about to do, and was apparently not going to be able to finish. "Your family-," he began in a dark tone.
"I know." She flipped back the bedclothes. "I'm sorry. I-" She broke off as she saw the extent of his arousal and said weakly, "Oh dear."
Although he was usually tolerant when it came to the Hathaways' multitude of quirks and issues, Cam was currently in no mood to be understanding.
"Get rid of whoever it is," he said, "and come back here."
"Yes. I'll try." She pulled a dressing robe over her nightgown and hastily fastened the top three buttons. As she hurried into the adjoining sitting room, the thin white dressing robe flapped behind her like the mainsail of a schooner.
Cam remained on his side, listening intently. There was the sound of the door to the hallway opening, and someone coming into the little sitting room. There was also the calm lilt of Amelia's questioning voice, and the anxious response of one of her sisters. Win, he guessed, since Poppy and Beatrix would only awaken this early in the event of some major catastrophe.
One of the things Cam adored about Amelia was her tender and unflagging interest in all the concerns, large and small, of her siblings. She was a little mother hen, valuing family as much as any Romany wife. That felt good to him. It hearkened back to his early childhood, when he'd still been allowed to live with the tribe. Family was equally important to them. But it also meant having to share Amelia, which, at times like this, was damned annoying.
After a few minutes, the feminine chatter still hadn't stopped. Gathering that Amelia wasn't going to return to bed any time soon, Cam sighed and left the bed.
He dragged on some clothes, went into the sitting room, and saw Amelia on a small settee with Win. Who looked wretched.
They were so intent on their conversation that Cam 's appearance was barely heeded. Sitting in a nearby chair, Cam listened until he comprehended that Win had lied to Merripen about having seen a doctor, that Merripen had been furious, and that the relationship between the two was in a shambles.
Amelia turned to Cam, her forehead puckered with concern. "Perhaps Win shouldn't have deceived him, but it is her right to make this decision for herself." Amelia retained Win's hand in hers as she spoke. "You know that I would love nothing better than to keep Win safe from harm, always… but even I have to acknowledge that it isn't possible. Merripen must accept that Win wants to have a normal married life with him."
Cam rubbed his face and stifled a yawn. "Yes. But the way to get him to accept that is not to manipulate him." He looked at Win directly. "Little sister, you should know that ultimatums never work with Romany men. It goes completely against a Rom's grain, being told what to do by his woman."
"I didn't tell him what to do," Win protested miserably. "I just told him-"
"That it didn't matter what he thought or felt," Cam murmured. "That you intend to live your life on your own terms, no matter what."
"Yes," she said faintly. "But I didn't mean to imply that I didn't care about his feelings."
Cam smiled ruefully. "I admire your fortitude, little sister. I even happen to agree with your position. But that's not the way to manage a Rom. Even your sister, who is not generally known for her diplomacy, knows better than to approach me in such an uncompromising fashion."
"I am quite diplomatic when I wish to be," Amelia protested, frowning, and he gave her a brief grin. Turning to Win, Amelia admitted reluctantly, " Cam is correct, however."
Win was quiet for a moment, absorbing that. "What should I do now? How can things be made right?"
Both women looked at Cam.
The last thing he wanted was to involve himself in Win and Merripen's problems. And God knew Merripen would probably be as charming as a baited bear this morning. All Cam wanted was to go back to bed and plow his wife. And perhaps sleep a bit longer. But as the sisters stared at him with entreating blue eyes, he sighed. "I'll talk to him," he muttered.
"He's most likely awake now," Amelia said hopefully. "Merripen always rises early."
Cam gave her a glum nod, hardly relishing the prospect of talking to his surly brother about womanish matters. "He's going to beat me like a dusty parlor rug," Cam said. "And I won't blame him a bit."
After dressing and washing, Cam went downstairs to the morning room, where Merripen invariably took breakfast. Passing the sideboard, Cam saw toad-in-the-hole, a casserole of sausages covered in batter and roasted, platters of bacon and eggs, sole fillets, fried bread, and a bowl of baked beans.
A chair had been pushed back from one of the round tables. There was an empty cup and saucer, and a small steaming silver pot next to it. The scent of strong black coffee lingered in the air.
Cam glanced at the glass doors that led to a back terrace, and saw Merripen's lean, dark form. Merripen appeared to be staring at the fruit orchard beyond the structured formal garden. The set of his shoulders and head conveyed both irritability and moroseness.
Hell. Cam had no idea what he was going to say to his brother. They had far to go before they approached a basic level of trust. Any advice Cam tried to give Merripen would probably be tossed summarily back into his face.
Picking up a slice of fried bread, Cam ladled a spoonful of orange marmalade on it, and wandered out to the terrace.
Merripen gave Cam a cursory glance and returned his attention to the landscape: the flourishing fields beyond the manor grounds, the heavy forests nourished by the thick artery of the river.
A few gentle streams of smoke arose from the distant riverbank, one of the places where Gypsies were wont to camp as they traveled through Hampshire. Cam had personally carved identifying marks on the trees to indicate that this was a friendly place to the Rom. And every time a new tribe came, Cam went to visit them on the off-chance that someone from his long-ago family might be there.
"Another kumpania passing through," he remarked casually, joining Merripen at the balcony. "Why don't you come with me to visit them this morning?"
Merripen's tone was distant and unfriendly. "The workmen are casting new plasterwork moldings for the east wing. And after the way they fouled it up last time, I have to be there."
"Last time, the screeds they nailed up weren't properly aligned," Cam said.
"I know that," Merripen snapped.
"Fine." Feeling sleepy and annoyed, Cam rubbed his face. "Look, I have no desire to stick my nose in your affairs, but-"
"Then don't."
"It's not going to hurt you to hear an outside perspective."
"I don't give a damn about your perspective."
"If you weren't so bloody self-absorbed," Cam said acidly, "it might occur to you that you're not the only one who's got something to worry about. Do you think I haven't given a thought to what might happen to Amelia now that she's conceived?"
"Nothing will happen to Amelia," Merripen said dismissively.
Cam scowled. "Everyone in this family chooses to think of Amelia as indestructible. Amelia herself thinks it. But she's subject to all the usual problems and frailties of any other woman in her condition. The truth is that it's always a risk."
Merripen's dark eyes simmered with hostility. "More so for Win."
"Probably. But if she wants to assume that risk, it's her decision."
"That's where we differ, Rohan. Because I-"
"Because you don't take risks on anyone, do you? It's too bad you've fallen in love with a woman wh
o won't be kept on a shelf, phral."
"If you call me that again," Merripen growled, "I'll take your bloody head off."
"Go ahead and try."
Merripen would probably have launched at Cam then, if not for the glass doors opening and another figure stepping out on the terrace. Glancing in the direction of the intruder, Cam groaned inwardly.
It was Harrow, looking controlled and capable. He approached Cam and ignored Merripen. "Good morning, Rohan. I've just come to tell you that I will be leaving Hampshire later in the day. If I can't persuade Miss Hathaway to come to her senses, that is."
"Of course," Cam said, schooling his expression into pleasant blankness. "Please let me know if there is anything we can do to facilitate your departure."
"I only want what is best for her," the doctor murmured, still not looking at Merripen. "I will continue to believe that going to France with me is the wisest choice for all concerned. But it is Miss Hathaway's decision." He paused, his gray eyes somber. "I hope you will exert any influence you have to make certain all parties concerned understand what is at stake."
"I think we all have a reasonably good grasp of the situation," Cam said with a gentleness that masked the sting of sarcasm.
Harrow stared at him suspiciously and gave a short nod. "I'll leave the two of you to your discussion, then." He placed a subtle, skeptical emphasis on the word "discussion," as if he was aware that they'd been on the verge of an outright brawl. He left the terrace, closing the glass door behind him.
"I hate that bastard," Merripen said beneath his breath.
"He's not my favorite, either," Cam admitted. Wearily he gripped the back of his own neck, trying to ease the stiffness of the pinching muscles. "I'm going down to the Romany campsite. And if you don't mind, I'll take a cup of that evil brew you drink. I despise the stuff, but I need something to help me stay awake."