“Clarissa, what in God’s name — ”
“No!” She wrenched herself out of his arms. “Don’t you dare say anything.”
As she struggled to get away, the hand that had held the back of her head slipped down and brushed against her breasts. He made another startled exclamation. “What the — ” That same hand slid inside her shirt and rested upon the bandages that held her breasts firm. “What in the world is this?”
“I told you before,” she snapped. “I don’t have a habit.”
“Yes, but why this? Do you have to bind yourself like this every day at home, when you ride out?”
His expression was tender, but Clarissa could detect his horror. And something else. Shock perhaps. No, derision. She nodded, ashamed and unable to look him in the eye. He placed a finger gently beneath her chin and tilted her head upwards, forcing her to meet his gaze.
“But why? I realise you can’t ride in a habit, but you could easily have a jacket made that would support you.”
Clarissa, still too mortified to look at him, attempted to move out of his grasp, but he wouldn’t let her go. So gently she hardly realized what was happening, he loosened her shirt and pushed it from her shoulders, slowly unfastening the bandage that held her breasts. Clarissa momentarily closed her eyes and permitted the feelings he was generating — desires that she’d long ago learned to ignore — to overwhelm her. A sensation of dizzying shock assailed her entire body. The temptation to surrender, to allow his skilled fingers to continue creating those wonderful feelings, was almost seductive.
But it wouldn’t do. She was humiliated and had to get away from him. The shame couldn’t be subdued for much longer, and must be borne in solitude.
“Just leave me be!” She pulled away from him. With her gaping shirt clutched against her body, she ducked beneath his arm and escaped in the direction of the house. Luc was left holding the bandages that had bound her, but Clarissa was too intent upon eluding him to notice the compassion that filled his eyes.
Chapter Ten
With a tormented sigh, Clarissa threw herself onto her bed and wallowed in a rare bout of self-pity. Tears fell unbidden, a welcome release for her pent up emotions. Luc had awakened feelings in her that had lain dormant for too long — the incomprehensible longings that crept up on her in the middle of the night, which she’d long ago disciplined herself to ignore. Now the need ripped through her with an intensity that made her senses reel. She was engulfed by an acute sense of desperation, of futile longing that left her unfulfilled, confused, and more than a little ashamed.
Why, oh, why had she allowed Luc to corner her in that damned stall? And when he did, why had she reacted in such an immature manner? The situation between them would be untenable now. Two weeks ago she’d have been delighted at the prospect of his avoiding her. But now? For once in her life, Clarissa didn’t know her own mind. Every time she considered that curling smile of his and the dark intensity in his eyes as they devoured her features, her heart missed a beat and she was plagued by feelings of loneliness and regret. Her fingers moved tentatively to the breast his hand had so recently brushed against. Her skin still burned where his fingers had rested upon it, and a rushing sensation like hot, molten liquid tore through her.
Clarissa revelled in the memory, until she recalled how she’d lost her nerve and fled like an outraged spinster. She came back to reality with a resounding thump, telling herself that she didn’t give two figs for his opinion. Come what may, she would shortly return to Northumberland and continue with her life there, free from the blistering intensity in his gaze and the almost irresistible lure of his coercive charm.
But how? That Salik was Michael’s son wasn’t in question. But was he Michael’s heir? In all honesty, Clarissa didn’t think so, but she was still unable to share Luc’s view that Mr. Twining could be involved in any attempt to defraud her.
Why, then, was she sitting back and allowing Luc to pursue that line? Clarissa was ashamed of the debilitating lethargy that rendered her incapable of taking any action to help herself. It was so unlike her to sit passively by, but in truth, she was exhausted. Bereavement, and the unrelenting demands placed upon her by the hard physical work on the estates, had sapped her strength.
But it couldn’t continue thus. Her position here in London was now parlous, thanks in part to the incident in the stables that morning. She must rediscover her strength, for her own sake, as well that of the people who depended upon her.
If Michael had wanted his son to have the estates, then so be it. He’d probably intended to tell her, but he’d been confused during the latter months of his life, angry that the medicines muddled his mind and prevented him from continuing with his work. Clarissa tried to quell her resentment at that being his first concern, rather than the not-inconsequential matter of whether he’d communicated his intentions regarding their property to her.
No matter, she would be true to his wishes. She’d strike a deal with Mr. Salik and do whatever was necessary to remain on the estates and carry on with her work. From the little she’d seen of him, he appeared keen to live the life of a London gentleman. Excellent! She could remain in Northumberland and ensure that the estates ran smoothly in his absence.
And, when she was safely returned to Northumberland, her work would take all of her physical strength. She’d be too tired to think about black, passion-filled eyes smiling at her, making her come alive in ways she’d not realised were possible. If thoughts of that mocking smile did have the temerity to invade her dreams…well, she’d simply work harder still, until exhaustion enabled her to rediscover her peace of mind. The answer was that simple.
Clarissa’s tears dried up, leaving her feeling miserable, but resolved. She rose from her bed, threw off her clothes, and crawled beneath the sheets. This time, completely drained, she fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
Late in the afternoon, Luc returned home and shut his library door with a resounding bang. The afternoon had seen his worst fears realised. White had been unable to say categorically that Hartley’s signature was a forgery. He dreaded passing on the news to Clarissa. He’d made light of it before, declaring it not to be their only course for redress, but in reality he was damned if he knew what to do next. White was the most respected man in his profession, his integrity beyond reproach. Had he even suspected that the signature was a forgery, it would have been sufficient to persuade any court in the land to refute Salik’s claim. As things now stood, though, they were no better off than when Clarissa first learned of the damned man’s existence.
Luc knew he could fall back on the influence afforded him by his earldom to delay a ruling until such time as further investigations could be made in Egypt. The delay could easily be for several years, leaving Clarissa free to pursue her work in the meantime. But that situation wouldn’t be satisfactory, and he only intended to go down that route as a last resort.
His suspicions were aroused by the fact that a separate firm of advocates drew up the supposed will. If Hartley trusted the lawyers who handled his payments to Salik’s mother for so long, why use a completely separate concern to draw up his will? More to the point, why tell no one about it? Especially his wife, who had a greater vested interest than anyone else? It was now a question of finding someone who knew Alexandria well, who could advise them whether the firm in question actually existed. Over the past two days an uncertainty in that respect had crept into Luc’s thoughts, and he’d learned long ago to trust his instincts. Besides, he had precious few other avenues to explore.
Felix Western’s family was in shipping. Luc would find an opportunity to speak privately with him at the ball they were to attend that evening. Felix might know if any ships were due from Egypt, and whether they were likely to have on board any crew members who were natives of Alexandria. It was a gamble, but Luc was desperate.
He turned his mind to the episode in the stables that morning, and cursed himself for behaving like a blundering oaf. He’d known that she was uns
ure of herself, her mind undoubtedly full of her troubles rather than the licentious thoughts that occupied his. What in God’s name had prompted him to act in such a way?
Undoubtedly, some portion of his reaction was due to shock that her breasts had been so savagely bound. Why in heaven’s name hadn’t her maid pointed out that she didn’t need to put herself through such agony?
Thoughts of her breasts caused Luc’s mind to take the inevitable detour, and he relived the exquisite feel of her soft, firm flesh as he unwound those hateful bandages. She was a disarming mixture of supreme confidence and touching naïveté, spirited opinions bordering on disrespect vying against a mammoth portion of self-doubt. Beneath that cool exterior lay passion just waiting to be released, and Luc was determined to be the one to awaken it. Tact and patience would be necessary, but for such a rich prize he was content to bide his time.
There was a knock at the library door, then it opened, and Clarissa herself entered. Luc stood and crossed the room in two strides.
“Clarissa.” He took her hand and led her to the chaise next to the fire.
“I heard you come in,” she said. “What news?”
Luc told her as gently as he could, watching her closely for her reaction.
“It is as I’d expected.” Her tone suggested resignation.
“You believed the will to be genuine all along?”
“I’m not surprised to learn that it probably is. I knew as soon as I saw him that Mr. Salik is Michael’s son. I wouldn’t be surprised to learn that the will is valid as well.”
“I don’t agree, and there’s still much we can do to disprove their case. You mustn’t give up hope.”
Luc told her of his suspicions regarding the advocates, and his intended actions. He kept the explanation to a minimum, excluding Felix Western’s possible role. She listened without attempting to interrupt.
“What is it, Clarissa? What are you thinking?”
“My lord, I can’t allow you to spend any more time fighting on my behalf. You’ve already been too kind. I’m coming to terms with Mr. Salik’s claim and have this afternoon decided to try to reach an agreement with him. Whatever I have to do, I will, as long as he permits me to continue my work with the herd.” Luc was appalled and attempted to stop her from saying more, but she waved away his objections. “I could move back to Greenacres, and he could take up residence at Fairlands. After all, we could hardly live with propriety under the same roof. Unless, of course — ” She paused, as though an idea had just occurred to her. “Perhaps, like his father before him, he would be willing to make a marriage of convenience?”
This time Luc’s temper couldn’t be contained. “You can’t possibly mean that!”
“Why not?”
“Because the man’s a snake. A charlatan. A fraudster.”
She lifted her shoulders. “Possibly, but we seem unable to prove it.”
“We’re by no means giving up with our attempts to prove it. In fact, we’ve hardly begun. No, you must be patient and I promise you we’ll prevail. If necessary we’ll request a delay in the courts, and I will send someone to Egypt, or even go myself.”
Clarissa assured him she wouldn’t permit him to do any such thing.
“I’d do that in a minute, rather than see you throw yourself away on that coxcomb.”
“Throw myself away?” She turned away from him and focused her gaze upon the fire. “It’s a little late for concerns of that nature.”
Luc pulled her to her feet and, standing behind her, turned her so that she was forced to look in the mirror above the fire. “Oh, Clarissa, can’t you see? Why don’t you believe me? Are you really so impervious to the impression you’ve made on half of the gentlemen of the ton?”
“Me?” She seemed genuinely surprised by the suggestion.
“Tell me, what do you see when you look at yourself in the glass?”
Clarissa pulled away, reacting as though she’d been scalded. “Don’t try telling me I’m beautiful!” Her voice cracked, and Luc could see that she was maintaining control by the merest sliver. “I know that to be a lie.”
“Clarissa, I don’t understand you. Tell me, why do you so lack confidence in yourself?”
She hesitated, but when she finally spoke her words were laced with a combination of anger and bitterness. “Why? I should have thought after your discovery this morning that it would be obvious. If I’m as beautiful and desirable as you keep implying, why is that that I’m still…well, why did my husband not agree with you?”
Her eyes, suspiciously bright, belied her angry outburst. It was only by exercising the most severe self-restraint that Luc stopped himself from pulling her into his arms and offering her the form of comfort she so richly deserved.
“Tell me about it,” he said.
“There’s very little to tell.”
She strode away from him, her every step followed not just by Luc but also by an adoring Mulligan. She seemed to gather her thoughts, deciding how much to reveal. After a few moments she began to speak again in her low, melodic voice, her face displaying no emotion.
“My father had been dead for six months, and I was just about managing to overcome my grief. It was the needs of the herd and the necessity to carry on with the work on the land that pulled me round. My father and I had always done those things together. Michael had never played an active role. At first he was abroad often, and then his time was taken up with his academic activities. He was interested enough in what we did, and seemed pleased that the best use was being made of his land, but no more than that. He indulged my whims with regard to experimentation, but I always had the impression that he was humouring me. He didn’t think the subject sufficiently taxing to trouble his huge intellect, you see. Anyway, by the time my father died Michael was unwell himself, never having been physically strong, and so the management of everything was left to me.”
“He didn’t trouble himself to secure suitable assistance for you?” Luc asked.
“No, but I wouldn’t have accepted it anyway. I preferred to handle matters myself, and was in and out of Fairlands all the time, just as I had been when Papa was alive. But it was pointed out to me by Agnes,” she said, smiling properly for the first time since entering the library, “that such behaviour would be frowned upon. The same thought must have occurred to Michael, because he proposed to me. I could see at once that marrying him would solve the problem, and so I agreed immediately.”
“It was a marriage of convenience then?”
“Yes, I suppose it was. I didn’t love him in the conventional way. But I was comfortable with him, and thought the rest would follow. But I can see now that it was Michael’s intention that it would be a marriage in name only. I had my own chamber at Fairlands already, and often spent the night there when Papa was alive. I assumed that upon our marriage I would move into the master suite, but Michael just smiled at me in that gentle way of his and suggested that I stay where I was.”
Luc clenched his fists and resisted voicing his thoughts. “Go on,” was all he trusted himself to say.
“I was happy with that arrangement. After all, most married couples have separate chambers, do they not? On our wedding night I fully expected Michael to come to me. I sat up in bed and waited for him, curious to know what would happen and willing to do whatever he asked of me. After all, I was now his wife. But — ” She paused to take a deep breath. “I waited and waited, listening for the sound of him approaching. Three hours passed before I could bring myself to accept that he wasn’t coming.”
Luc let out a snort, hurt and angered by the desolation in her voice. She blamed herself. Given her inexperience, that wasn’t to be wondered at. Luc knew the blame lay squarely with Michael, even though he suspected that the scholar merely tried to do the right thing by his friend’s daughter in the final months of his life. Presumably he thought Clarissa understood that, but it wouldn’t have hurt him to set her straight.
“The fool!” he muttered.
&nbs
p; She ignored his interruption and carried on. Having started to speak about the subject at last, she seemed unable to stop the words from tumbling over one another.
“At breakfast the next morning he treated me as normal. He enquired if I’d slept well and asked me what plans I had for the day. I couldn’t make it out at first, but knew he was still unwell. I assumed that when he recovered his health he’d come to me and make our marriage complete. I wanted to ask him about it, but didn’t know how to begin. So I just waited.” She focused her eyes on the fire, her voice so low as to be almost inaudible. “But he never did come, and in the end I stopped expecting him.”
“This is the foundation upon which you base your belief that you’re not beautiful and desirable?”
“Yes. Michael obviously didn’t feel the same way about Mr. Salik’s mother — but I can see now that he probably still loved her, and that’s why he didn’t treat me like a proper wife.”
“Oh, Clarissa!”
Luc crossed the room, stood behind her again, put his arms round her waist and pulled gently until her back rested against his chest. Just that simple contact was sufficient to arouse him. She was bound to be able to detect it, but he wanted her to. He wanted her to know just how much he desired her…how easily she could make him desperate for her.
“So, sweet Clarissa,” he said, his voice low and gravely as his tongue gently grazed the erogenous zone beneath her ear. “You can round up a herd of sheep, fly a falcon, ride better than most men I’ve met, and work as least as hard as any of them. But — ” He paused to brush his lips against the length of her long neck, and tightened his grip on her waist. “You’ve never enjoyed the comfort of a man to take on your burdens, never experienced the pleasure of his caresses, never received his protestations of admiration. Never known the joy to be had when he makes love to you, claims you as his and fills you with his desire.” He shook his head. “I find that inestimably sad.”
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