by Cheryl Holt
"No," Lucas insisted, shaking his head in denial. "No, you're wrong."
"She does!" he came back tersely. "Don't diminish what she's feeling by denying it."
"I don't know," Lucas said, shrugging. "Maybe . . ."
He didn't want it to be true; he hoped that it wasn't, but in
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his mind's eye he couldn't stop seeing Penny. How beautiful she'd looked as she'd glided down the stairs at the beginning of the ceremony. She'd shone as she'd spoken her vows, and she'd smiled so preciously when the service ended.
As for himself, he hadn't had the decency to bathe or dress for the occasion. Intentionally appearing at the last possible minute, he'd simply walked into the parlor as though nothing out of the ordinary were scheduled to occur. Despite his sloppy condition, she'd gazed up at him as though he were the most remarkable man in the world.
With the room decorations, and all of Penny's attempts to make the affair unique, the event hadn't seemed faked. As he'd repeated his vows, he pretended she would be his wife when it ended. The fact that she would not be burned and chafed somewhere near the region of his heart, and he couldn't chase away the dull ache.
"You lied to me," Matthew began tightly. "You said that she agreed to all this just to stymie her father. That she was going through with it simply to gain protection from his plans. That the two of you considered it to be a marriage of convenience." He shook his head in dismay. "How could you let things go this far?"
"I didn't let them. Things just... I don't know .. . she just ... I just..." He cursed, kicked a stone across the floor, and it skittered against the back wall, causing Matthew's horse to shift nervously. ' 'From the first time we met, we were attracted to each other. I haven't had to do or not do anything. The feelings are just there, and they're real."
"So what now? What about her?" Matthew stared out the open door into the night for a long, quiet moment. Finally he turned to face his brother. "We have to send her home."
"How can you say that? We haven't won what we came for."
"The price of victory has gotten too high."
"You can't think so! Not after all our planning, after all our work!"
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"Lucas," he chided, struggling for calm, "you're not thinking clearly."
"What do you mean?"
"How can you expect this to come to a good end? She thinks you're her husband now. The only way you could ever make it right in the end would be to truly marry her."
"Would that be such a bad idea?'' Lucas asked. The question had hung in his mind for hours. For days. Wouldn't that be the best resolution for everyone? He'd make her a fine husband—if she'd ever have him after what he'd done.
"Even if you could convince her to forgive you someday, you could never marry her."
"Why not?" Lucas argued pointlessly. He was angered to hear his brother say what he himself understood to be true.
"You're not the husband for her," Matthew said gently while resting a hand on his shoulder. "She's like ... royalty. A princess. And what are you?" He gestured up and down, taking in all Lucas was and was not. "You're the orphaned son of a bankrupt Virginia tobacco farmer. A philanderer, a gambler, a criminal, a pirate."
"Not anymore ..." Lamely he started to defend his character, but Matthew shot him a quelling look, and he wisely held his piece.
"This has gone too far," Matthew insisted. "She goes home! First thing in the morning."
"She can't," Lucas responded firmly. "Read this!" He handed over the duke's answer to their latest ransom demand.
Matthew read the words several times, and Lucas watched the changing emotions on his face. Shock. Disbelief. Anger.
"What is the matter with that man?" Matthew asked. "Who would say ‘I don't want her back' about his own child? And this again"—he pointed to one of the lines—"this command to 'do what you will.' The man's not human. That's all I can deduce, especially now that I've seen her and discovered what a gem she is. He's either an animal or he's mad."
"Perhaps he's a little of both." Lucas sighed in frustration.
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"I've been sick about it all day, and I won't send her home. Not to him. Not when he cares so little. I just can't imagine returning her."
"No, you can't."
"He might do anything to her...."
"But what other option is there?" Matthew asked rhetorically, since neither brother had an answer. Silently they remained in the door of the barn, gazing numbly out at the stars.
In the house Lucas was shocked to see candles being lit in Penny's bedroom. He jumped with the realization that she was getting ready for bed, obviously anticipating that he would join her shortly. When he'd told her about the quiet, secretive wedding, it had never occurred to him that she would turn it into such an observance. Now he realized that she was counting upon a true wedding night!
With each passing hour, his list of sins was growing until it was a yoke he could hardly shoulder. What a debacle!
“Oh, Lord,'' he breathed, completely out of the energy necessary to continue on with their charade.
"What room is that?" Matthew nodded toward the upstairs window.
"Penny's bedroom."
Showing no mercy, he mentioned, "She's expecting you."
"I imagine so."
Looking forbidding, he asked, "What are you going to do?"
"I don't know ..." Lucas said, casting about for a solution. "I think I'll probably wait out here for an hour or two. Until she gets tired and blows out the candles."
Matthew gave an angry nod of his head. “I realize that there is no other course of action you could possibly take," he said, sounding as worn down as Lucas felt, "but considering how much that girl loves you, I must tell you that I think that's probably the most heartless thing I've ever heard a man say."
He mounted his horse and rode off into the night.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Lucas stealthily opened the front door and tiptoed across the floor and up the stairs. His eyes scanned each dark corner, half expecting the French maid to jump him, demanding to know where he'd been. No one leapt out though, and as he reached the top unscathed, he decided that Colette was probably sleeping soundly, happily imagining that her mistress was still joyfully participating in her wedding night.
Continuing on as quietly as possible, he passed Penny's closed door, ignoring the damning silence behind it, and he moved on to Harry's room, staring for a good length of time at the blond hair sticking out from the covers, watching as his tiny breaths raised and lowered his chest.
"For you, Harry," he murmured to himself, needing the reminder to firm up his resolve. "All for you."
Harry was too young to comprehend what had happened to his mother at the hands of his father, too small to exact his own revenge, so Lucas would do it for him. When Harry was grown and the subject explained, hopefully Lucas would gain his nephew's gratitude and understanding. Perhaps then Lucas would be able to come to terms with all of it as well. Using
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Penny to achieve their goal had to have been worth it in the end.
He laid a loving hand on the boy's head, then retreated, pausing outside Penny's room. Even knowing he should go to his own as he'd intended, he couldn't seem to take the steps. Before he could stop himself, he quietly turned the knob and slipped inside, thinking merely to check on Penny while he whispered a hushed apology.
Instantly he regretted his rash act, for the moonlight clearly indicated that the bed was empty, the covers not mussed. His eyes darted around and, to his chagrin, found her fully awake and leaning against the window seat while gazing blindly out into the backyard. Although he couldn't view her dazzling scarlet costume in its entirety, he saw she was dressed in another erotic ensemble. The inadequate fragment of cloth was meant barely to cover her private parts and was the perfect attire to entice the luckiest of bridegrooms. Looking at it, he felt aroused and ashamed at the same time.
"Oh, if it isn't my dear husband," she said sarcastically, running her scathing glare up and down his torso. "You've finally arrived, but I'm sorry to say that I'm quite sure I'm out of the mood."
"Penny, I—"
"Shut up, Lucas."
Now that he'd entered, he wasn't certain what to do or how to fix the situation. He thought an audible apology might be the best beginning. "I'm sorry."
"I said, shut up!" she repeated sharply with a tight, practiced control. "And go! Just leave me be!"
With the angry fire burning in her eyes, the tone of command in her voice, she looked just like her father. He wondered if she realized it. Her eyes narrowed, taking his measure, and obviously finding nary a single redeeming quality. He felt like the lowest sort of vermin.
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"I can't," he said, wrongly assuming that they might have a rational discussion. "Not when you're in such a state and it's all my fault."
"If you don't depart immediately, I really don't think I can be responsible for my actions. I've still got that knife you gave me around here somewhere." Maliciously she eyed his crotch. "If given the chance, I know exactly where I'll stick it first."
The threat was so vividly conveyed that he gulped in response and fought to keep from protectively crossing his hands over his genitalia. "Perhaps it's best if I leave, then. We'll talk in the morning, when you're feeling more calm."
"I don't think it will help to wait until morning," she spit out. "I won't be more calm in the morning. In fact, I may never be calm again."
Over the years he'd passed through dozens of relationships, spending time with women but moving on at the first hint of an expected emotional entanglement. He hated to become embroiled in any type of amorous discord, so he always went about making the separations as pleasant as possible in order to ensure that every one of his old lovers remained a friend after their parting.
The reason for such self-preservation was that he couldn't bear to see a woman cry—tears induced him to all sorts of foolishness and always had—so he never remained once his intimate associations began to deteriorate. Consequently he had no idea how to deal with Penny when she was angry. He'd expected her to be hurt, crushed, destroyed, and weeping copious tears, as other females of his acquaintance were often wont to do.
What he hadn't planned on was a display of temper, and she seemed to be spoiling for a fight. He wasn't about to give her one, because he didn't know the rules for the type of contest in which they'd engage. Before they'd even started, he perceived that it would be a battle he had no way of winning.
Taking the coward's way out, his usual route when facing
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an overwrought woman, he started for the door, but her irate bark brought him up short.
"Don't you dare move!" She swung out of the window seat and stood on wobbly legs that indicated she'd drunk about as much wine as he'd guessed. "I've changed my mind. I do believe I'd like to have this out once and for all."
"I don't think it's a good idea for us to talk right now."
"Oh, you don't, do you?" She growled and stalked toward him, looking and sounding very much like a wild animal. ' 'Well, maybe what you want is just too damned bad, because for a change, you're not going to get it!"
His brows rose at hearing her curse. The sudden insight that she'd stoop to using such language made a frightening thought occur to him: He didn't know anything about this woman, what she might do, what she might be capable of doing. "There's no cause for us to exchange harsh words."
"Well, I disagree. I'd like nothing more than to exchange a few harsh words with you. The harsher the better!"
"What will arguing solve?" he asked, wanting only to leave the dreadful scene, while deciding that this was quickly becoming the worst moment of his life, but as soon as the thought formed, he amended it straightaway. The worst moment had been seeing Penny at her bath and not being able to join her. So, this had to be the second worst moment. "I'm not about to stand here in the middle of the night, fighting with you as though we're a pair of angry cats."
"All right, Lucas," she said, taking a deep breath and struggling to restrain her rage. "Let's be completely civil while you clarify what I have been doing up here, eagerly anticipating your appearance for the past four and a half hours." When he opened his mouth to begin, she held up a hand, effectively stopping him.' 'And don't lie and tell me you've finally decided to enjoy a bit of love play, because I won't believe you. I heard you sneaking to your bed, and I know that I just happened to spoil your escape by still being awake."
Running a hand through his hair, he couldn't help wishing
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he'd plotted out this discussion long before it had occurred. He'd assumed it would commence hours hence, in the daylight, in the kitchen, after he'd slept, instead of then, when he was exhausted and out of ideas. "I don't know what to say...."
"Why don't you begin by explaining why you refuse to consummate our marriage?"
"It's not that I don't want to," he lied.
"What is it, then?"
"It's just that ... we hardly know each other, and I am convinced it would be a kindness to you if we wait until we are more familiar with one another."
"That's it? That's your reasoning?'' She rolled her eyes and ran a hand across her front. "That's priceless. I'm standing here, dressed in nothing"—her words made her realize how much skin she was exposing for his appraisal, and she stalked to the bed, grabbed a slinky red robe that did little to rectify her condition, and put it on—"and you think we should wait until we're better acquainted. What the bloody hell is the matter with you?"
Lamely he offered, "It's better this way."
"Better for whom?" she snarled.
"You'll see," he promised. Magnanimously he added, "I know you're upset, but in time you'll agree that I was right for us to put it off."
"Oh, what a pompous ass you are," she sizzled, "thinking you know best! Do you happen to remember who my father is? Do you have any idea of his power and reach? Have you even a glimmer of a notion of what will befall you—and me— if he catches up with us before we're wed in every way that matters?"
Uneasy, he admitted, “I know all about your father, Penny. I'm aware of what could happen."
"Then why aren't we in that bed?" She pointed to it as she asked the question in a near shout. "I thought you wanted to help me! That you cared about me!"
"I did. I do!"
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"Then you must grasp that unless we establish ourselves in marriage by proceeding to the point of no return, the duke could find me and take me back. With his authority he could probably have our annulment pushed through in a matter of hours, and I would be deposited at Edward's doorstep."
"I realize all the ramifications," he said gently, seeing her fear, understanding that it was valid and real, and softening because of it.
"So, just what is it, exactly, that you've done for me besides whisk me away from my life and family?" She poked an angry finger at his chest. “What have I gained by being here with you other than the increase of my father's wrath?"
"You've obtained many important things. Time. Distance."
"What bloody good are they if the duke can simply snatch me away?" Seeming to run out of steam, her shoulders sagged. Quietly, accusingly she said, "I thought you wanted this marriage," She swallowed, adding, "I thought you wanted me."
"I do, Penny."
"Prove to me that you mean it!"
"What would you have me do?" he asked, growing angry too. "Throw you down on the bed and have my way with you?"
"Yes." She nodded curtly, not appearing afraid, and definitely not suffering from the least bit of virginal trepidation. "Yes, that's what I wish. Do it right now. Show me that you desire to have me as your wife."
All he had to do was take one step. On
e tiny step, and he could grab her around the waist and fling her down on the soft mattress. Their bodies would sink in, and he would stretch out on top of her, covering her with his weight and presence. Finally he'd be able to feel her pressed against him from head to toe, as he'd fantasized for so long.
The temptation was extreme. Her costume was incredibly arousing; he'd never seen the likes of it on another woman, not even the most expensive prostitutes. The top was a bright red chemise-looking thing that didn't reach her navel. The lace
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and silk from which it was created was completely sheer, the neckline low, the outline of her breasts and nipples not disguised in the least. A mere swatch of scarlet crafted from the same material comprised the bottom half. On her legs she wore thin stockings. They were crimson too, as were her garters and heeled slippers. The robe she'd hastily donned did little to cover the outfit; it matched the set and was as gauzy as the rest.
Now that he'd gotten a close look at her apparel, he wanted her more than ever, but he didn't want her out of it. He imagined it a rather nice scenario to make love to her while she was still inside it, with all that red silk rubbing smoothly and coolly against his fevered skin. But as quickly as the vision formed, it was pushed aside by others. Of Caroline and Harry and the duke. Of his brother, Matthew, and the disappointment that would shine in his eyes if he learned that Lucas had seduced her. But most of all, he saw Penny—hurt and betrayed.
In agony, hating how much his answer would disappoint her, he shook his head and said, "I can't do as you ask."
"Bastard," she spit at him. "Answer one question for me."
"If I'm able."
"Why did you marry me?"
"There are so many reasons, and I'm tired and worn out, and I can't abide us bickering like this. Can't it wait?"
"Until when?" she asked furiously. "Tomorrow? The next day? The next one after that?"
"Well, I will be extremely busy on the morrow. I need to leave early for London."