Night Storm

by Catherine Coulter

  Genny dressed carefully in the other set of men’s clothes she owned. She stepped back and gazed at her figure in the cheval glass. She still looked trim enough with the leather vest hiding her thickened waist. Even as she stared at herself in the mirror, she raised her chin a good half inch.

  He wouldn’t order her about.

  If he wanted to be an autocrat, he could go to the devil. She wouldn’t let him play the tyrant, with her his dutiful and obedient slave. She wouldn’t put up with his ill temper, with his absurd conclusion that she was envious of men and, unable to be one, therefore aped them. For heaven’s sake, she carried a child in her womb. That should be a sure sign even to the meanest intelligence that she was every inch a woman.

  What had set him off? She’d made him remember with these silly clothes. He should be thankful to her. But no, he’d turned into a man even the old Alec hadn’t approached. His attitude surprised her, hurt her, and eluded her attempts to understand it.

  Genny looked over at the gown Mrs. MacGraff had laid out on the bed for her. It was one of the new gowns that Alec had selected, a pale lavender silk with a deeply cut bodice tightly banded beneath the breasts and a full, flowing skirt. It made her look like a quite delicious confection of womanhood, a delicate creature worthy of a man’s protection and approbation.

  She slapped her breeched thighs. She wouldn’t wear the bloody gown. When he apologized, when he ceased behaving like an arrogant lout, she would willingly don any gown he wished her to. But she wouldn’t be treated like a calculating creature who had purposefully deceived him.

  He’d acted as if that was exactly what he thought she was.

  He’d acted as if he not only disapproved of her but held her in contempt. She remembered each of his cruel words. She doubted she would ever forget them.

  Did he honestly expect her to simply lie down at his feet and let him put his spurs into her? She had been soft and loving and submissive during his illness; she’d felt he’d needed all her support, all her understanding, her love and absolute acceptance. If she continued in that way now, she knew deep down that he would indeed become the tyrant. It wasn’t in her character to be an insignificant, whimpering little female, dependent on her husband for her every need. She couldn’t, she wouldn’t, do it. Not for any man.

  Genny straightened her shoulders and marched from her bedchamber down the long corridor to the central staircase. She gave a nasty grin to the particularly obnoxious ancestor whose full-length portrait hung on the wall beside the stairs. She strode into the drawing room, came to a stop, and stayed still until Alec, who had his back to her, turned slowly upon hearing her enter.

  He stared at her, his fingers tightening about the stem of his wineglass until his knuckles showed white.

  If she’d been wearing a cap she’d look like a boy.

  She looked exactly as she had the first time he saw her on board the Pegasus. No, that wasn’t quite true. Her breasts were larger, swelled with her pregnancy. Even her loose jacket couldn’t hide that fact. She didn’t look at all like a boy.

  “Good evening,” she said, and her voice was strident, a goad to raise his hackles.

  Alec said very calmly, “You will return to your bedchamber and remove those clothes, at once.”

  Her chin went up another quarter of an inch. “No.”

  His eyes glittered; his jaw tightened. “I told you what I would do if I saw you wearing men’s clothes again. Did you choose to forget my words? Or did you believe that you could continue to manipulate me? Treat me like a weak-willed fool?”

  “Manipulate you? What are you talking about?”

  “You know quite well what I’m saying. Soft and submissive, all of it was a lie, down to the last moan from your pretty mouth when I made love to you. Your days of ruling me with your velvet glove are over, madam. Now, either you will take off those clothes yourself or I will do it for you.”

  It was true, she had been soft and submissive, but—“It wasn’t a lie, Alec. You needed me and I simply adjusted to what you needed. I wouldn’t manipulate you. I doubt it would be possible, even if your memory never returned.”

  He sneered, and the expression nearly took away his handsomeness. She hated it. “Why, I wonder, did I marry you? Did I see you as a challenge, a nitwit female who needed to be shown her place? Somehow I can’t reconstruct my reasons.”

  “I daresay you thought you lo—cared for me.”

  He laughed, shaking his head. He tossed down the rest of his sherry. “As I recall now, I reacted like a chivalrous fool. As I further recall, I also felt protective of you, pity for your situation. You had such adamant complaints about the unfairness of life. Yes, I felt sorry for you, particularly after your father died. You were alone and helpless.”

  “I wasn’t helpless.”

  “Oh? The shipyard would have gone bankrupt, and if you were as intelligent as you think you are, you would have admitted it to yourself and—”

  “And married a big, important man?”

  “You weren’t at all stupid, were you? You were quite realistic. You did marry a big, important man, a man to take care of you, to give you as many gowns as you wished. Of course, you haven’t the taste to pick out any gown that doesn’t look like a Cit’s castoff—but that’s neither here nor there, since I do—have good taste, that is.”

  “I didn’t want your pity, Alec. Nor did I need your protection. Your fashion sense, however, has been a good thing.”

  “Well, you got both my pity and my protection, for I am a man, Genny, who was raised to be honorable.”

  “You can be at once honorable and cruel? An odd juxtaposition, I think.”

  “Cruel? You truly think so? I disagree. For the first time since my accident, I think I’m seeing things clearly. Oh, yes, I should add that I also wanted to deflower you, truth be told. You were quite a virgin, Eugenia, and that appealed to me, though I would have denied it even to myself at the time. I thought I much preferred women who knew how to please me, who knew how they wished themselves to be pleased. But it didn’t matter, for you had all that passion just waiting to be released. A sleeping beauty in men’s clothing. And I wanted your passion, Genny. It was a powerful aphrodisiac to come into you and feel you arch up and hold me as close to you as you could, to hear you moaning against my shoulder, to feel your fingers digging into my back. I felt all-powerful. You were very responsive, Genny. Yes, that was probably my primary reason for marrying you.”

  “But you appear to still enjoy making love to me.”

  “Yes. It’s something of a puzzle, isn’t it? I do believe it’s true. I was wrong to doubt your sexual eagerness—you were and are quite passionate. That’s why I married you, that and the fact that Hallie seemed to approve of you.”

  “You’d made love to ladies before and hadn’t married any of them. Why me?”

  “Because you were so damned pathetic.” She reeled back as if he’d struck her.

  “Now, my dear wife, go remove those absurd clothes. I won’t sit down to my dinner with such a creature.”

  “No. No, I won’t. I won’t take orders from you, Alec. You’re my husband, not my jailer.”

  “I’m everything to you, Genny. It is I who will choose what it is you deserve and need at any given time. You will obey me.”

  She held to her temper by a thread. “I don’t understand you. I was simply searching about in that room to try and discover anything I could about your steward’s murder. What difference does it make what I was wearing? Who cares, for God’s sake? Why are you behaving so horribly to me?”

  “I didn’t ask you to become a detective. It isn’t a woman’s place to take chances like that. You could have hurt yourself in that room and—”

  She couldn’t bear any more. “Stop it. I can’t believe you’re saying these things. Alec, I’m your wife and I want to help both you and me because Carrick Grange is my home as well. The murder of your steward affects me as much as it does you.”

  He strode over to
her. She held herself steady. His expression was unreadable to her. She remained perfectly still. He clasped his large hands around her shoulders. “Listen to me, Lady Sherard. You are my wife and you are carrying my child. I want you safe. It is my responsibility to keep you safe. Don’t you understand something as simple as that?” He shook her slightly.

  “You’re a fool,” she said, her voice flat. “A damned fool. Let me go.”

  “Will you take off those clothes?”

  She looked up into his beautiful, stern face. “Go to the devil.”

  Alec released her suddenly and shoved her onto a sofa. He strode to the drawing room door, pulled it tightly closed, and locked it.

  “Now,” he said, turning.

  She scrambled up and ran behind the sofa. The small distance gave her the courage to fuel her rage at him.

  “You try to touch me, Alec, and I shall make you very sorry.”

  “I imagine that you would try,” he replied without much interest. “But it doesn’t matter. Again, if you would but recognize the fact, you’re a woman. You have half my strength—”

  “But more than enough determination. I mean it, Alec. Stop this nonsense and unlock that door.”

  He paused as if struck by her words, then nodded. “You’re right. This isn’t at all a good idea.” He matched action to words and within seconds the drawing room door was open and he was standing beside her, proffering her a mock bow.

  Genny said nothing more. She forced herself not to run, but her step quickened as she passed him. Suddenly she felt his arm go around her waist. He lifted her under his arm as if she were a sack of flour. Then, as if remembering the babe in her womb, he quickly shifted her until she lay over his shoulder.

  She threatened him with every bodily harm she could imagine. He laughed. When she threatened to yell for the servants, he laughed harder. She smashed her fists against his back but knew she did him no harm. She looked up to see the butler, Smythe, the footman Giles, and Mrs. MacGraff. They said nothing. She saw, in fact, that Giles was doing his best not to laugh. This infuriated her and she struck her husband’s back again.

  “Stop it, Alec.”

  He merely shook his head and quickened his pace. When he reached the master suite, he entered, then kicked the door closed with his bootheel. He dumped her onto the bed, then locked not only the bedchamber door but also the adjoining room door.

  Genny rose quickly to stand by the far side of the bed. She was watching him, following his every move, wondering what he was thinking, what he planned to do. Rip the men’s clothes off her, most likely, she knew, and moved closer to the wall. She turned to look out the window. She couldn’t jump; it was a good thirty-foot drop.

  “Don’t even consider it,” he said from behind her. “I know you’re a woman and thus endowed with only a modicum of sense, but it is December and you are pregnant. Because of your delicate condition, I shall content myself with tearing those clothes off you. I would prefer thrashing you, but I am a reasonable man and I embrace compromise. Come here, Genny.”

  Her chin went up and her body went still. “Go to the devil.”

  “You’re becoming repetitive. That sounds so very American of you. Come here. I shan’t tell you again.”

  “Good, because you’re boring me, Alec.”

  He strode toward her, and Genny, seeing that he was as enraged as she was, dashed toward the adjoining room door. She prayed he’d left the key in the lock but he hadn’t. She felt his large hands close about her upper arms. He jerked her back hard against him.

  “Now,” he said, and ripped her shirt from her throat to her waist. Buttons flew across the floor. He grasped her vest and pulled it from her despite her flailing arms.

  “Let’s see what we have here.” He twisted her about to face him. Genny freed her arm and drove her fist into his belly. He grunted and she saw the anger blaze brightly in his eyes.

  “Let me go, Alec. Unlock this door and leave me alone. If you wish me to leave, I shall do so. In the morning. You’ll never have to bear with my company again. Let me go.”

  He said nothing. He moved quickly, giving her no warning. In the next moment, the shirt was in shreds on the floor and her chemise was ripped down the front. He pulled it off her, leaving her naked to the waist. Genny tried to calm her deep, heaving breaths. She knew he was looking at her, and that made her furious and at the same time made her feel helpless. It was awful. “I’ll never forgive you for this, Alec. Damn you, let me go now.”

  He remained silent, staring down at her. Then he said, “Your breasts are larger.” He lifted his hand and gently cupped her breast. “And heavier. And extremely beautiful.” She flinched, but he held her still, his other arm behind her back.

  “Let me go.”

  “All right,” he said. And he stripped off her breeches, boots, and woolen stockings. When she was completely naked, he smiled down at her. “Very nice, my dear wife. Very nice indeed.”

  His hand was on her breast again, fondling her gently. She felt a stirring of desire but firmly ignored it. He picked her up in his arms and carried her to the bed. He didn’t toss her onto the bed but laid her quite carefully in the center, on her back.

  He sat down beside her. “Now,” he said, his tone as light as a conversation about the weather, “let’s talk. You want to leave me?”

  “Yes. I won’t stay with you and be humiliated and insulted.”

  “How about lying on your beautiful back, quite naked, with me, fully clothed, looking at you? Will you accept that?”

  She sucked in her breath, raised her hand to strike him, but he blocked her fist and bore it down to the bed. “Oh, no, you don’t. Now, I want to look at my son.”

  “It’s a daughter.”

  He lightly ran his palm over her belly. He closed his eyes and held his hand still. He said quietly, not moving, “You aren’t going anywhere. You are my wife and you will agree to do just as I tell you.”

  Genny’s stomach growled loudly at that moment.

  Alec’s eyes flew open. He laughed. “I’ll feed you, but not just yet. No, now I want to enjoy looking at you.”

  He leaned down and kissed her stomach, nipping, light kisses. When he straightened, his eyes had darkened. She knew he wanted her. She saw the pulse throbbing in his throat.

  “You don’t like me,” she said. “How can you want to make love to me?”

  “Perverse of me, I suppose. You have a lovely body, Genny. I will much enjoy watching your belly swell. And your breasts.”

  “I’m cold, Alec.” She followed action to words and shivered.

  He stripped quickly, flinging his clothes about the floor, something that was very unlike him, for Alec was normally painfully neat with his belongings. He slipped beneath the covers and pulled her under him. He settled her against him, kissed her forehead, and said in the gentlest voice, “Now, Miss Eugenia, I’m going to come inside you. Should you like that?”

  Her body would very much like that, but she, Eugenia Paxton Carrick, wouldn’t. He’d said he was a reasonable man; well, she would try. She pulled away far enough to look into his face. “Alec, why are you doing this? Why are you treating me like this? I’ve done nothing to hurt you. I’ve wanted only to help you, to be with you, to make you feel less alone.”

  He didn’t answer. Suddenly he was over her, his hands pulling her legs apart. He eased between them, and she felt his strength, the heat of him. “You are mine. If ever you say something so stupid again, I will lock you up.”

  She stared at him, mute.

  “You’ll never leave me, Genny.” He reared back, lifted her hips in his hands, and thrust deep. She was ready for him and he smiled, a triumphant smile that made her want to kill him and scream with pleasure at the same time. The pain of his words and actions coalesced with the intense sensations he was making her feel, and it was too much. He was stroking inside her, so deep, then pulling back, making her moan with the intense pleasure and moan again with frustration. He knew her body s
o very well. She’d thought he’d also known her, but she’d been wrong. Even as she saddened at the truth of the thought, she was crying out, arching upward, clasping him close against her, and he was thrusting into her again and again until she was wild with wanting him and wanting her pleasure, and then it was upon her and she was trembling and convulsing, her legs stiffening, her body awash with such strong feelings that she couldn’t separate herself as an individual from him. She was part of him and she accepted him into her at that moment.

  “You’re mine,” she whispered against his throat. “I love you and you’re mine.”

  Alec heard her words even as his body exploded into mad climax, ripping through him, tearing at him yet making him whole, blending the two of them together, inseparable, and it wouldn’t end, ever.

  “Yes,” he said, kissing her breasts. “Yes.”

  She shuddered and held him even closer.

  But five minutes later she was staring at him with bleak eyes.

  Twenty-four

  “I mean it, Genny. Give your instructions to Mrs. MacGraff. It’s your right and your responsibility, but stay out of the other. We don’t know who is involved in this mess. There could be danger and I won’t have you involved.”

  He was still deep inside her, still a part of her, and he’d said he would never leave her, ever. It was a lie, words spoken by a man in the throes of his own mad desire, but nonetheless a lie.

  She said nothing for many minutes, looking over his left shoulder.

  “Can’t you be content to be my wife?”

  Soft and inveigling, that was Alec’s voice. The voice of a reasonable man to his unreasoning wife.

  “Would you sign over the deed to me now?”

  He became very still. She felt him leave her and he rolled onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. She felt bereft. She felt the stickiness of him between her thighs. She said nothing more, for after all, what else was there to say?