by Julia Ross
Her husband was alive. Now, as she'd feared for five years, George Hardcastle had exterminated her life as she'd known it and could control her happiness into the foreseeable future.
Alden, Lord Gracechurch, the lover she had unknowingly taken in adultery, had all along been in league - whether wittingly or not - with her one-time fiancé, Lord Edward Vane, who had lied about her husband's death to entrap her.
It hardly mattered that George's men had broken china and a handful of farm implements.
It hardly mattered that Lord Edward had conspired to destroy her.
Alden had shattered her soul.
"We have arrived," he said.
He sat with arms folded over his chest, head flung back, booted feet resting on the opposite seat. His clothes were soaked and splattered with mud. His hair was plastered to his head. Loose strands straggled over his cheeks. Yet even now - even after everything he had done - his sheer male beauty took her breath away.
Her agony crystallized into hatred.
He glanced directly at her.
Her hands clenched in her lap. She had allowed him to woo her and kiss her. She had let those carved lips caress hers. Those fine hands had explored her nakedness. She had opened her body and soul to his invasion - and been betrayed.
"You detest me," he said quietly. "Of course. Ι don't blame you."
"I hate you. More than Ι have ever hated anyone in my life."
He turned his head to look out of the window. Wet hair trailed over his shoulder. "Yes. Ι would feel the same."
"You have no idea of my depth of feeling. It would bring me great satisfaction to know for sure that you were going to burn in hell for all eternity."
Α footman opened the door. Alden dropped his feet to the floor and stepped from the carriage. Turning, he held out a hand to assist her.
"Unfortunately Ι cannot make it to Hades quite so quickly, ma'am, so Ι will have a man fetch the basket and put the cats in your room."
The flambeaux around the house entrance cast a flickering light over his face. Two bright spots of color burned against his deadly white cheekbones. His eyes glittered.
Fear washed over her heart. "What is the matter?" she asked. "You are ill?"
"A small fever, ma'am." He smiled. "Perhaps it will consume me, as you wish."
It made her angry. Angry that for a moment she had cared. Juliet put her hand on his sleeve and stepped down.
"You have the pox?"
"Lud, no! Α chill, that's all."
"A professional rake takes precautions against disease, of course. How fortunate Ι am that you did so with me!"
His smile disappeared. He took a deep breath, staring at her fingers on his cuff. "Don't try to make what we shared into something ugly. It was not."
"Not for you, perhaps," she said, removing her hand. "But it was very ugly for me."
She pushed past him and walked into the house. Years of training as an earl’s daughter gave a rigid dignity to her spine. His boots rang on the floor behind her as he gave orders to servants. Α room for her upstairs. Food, water and a soil box for the cats. To carry the basket carefully.
At the top of the main stairs, a maid appeared in front of her and curtsied.
"If you would please to follow me, ma'am?"
Juliet glanced back. Alden stood at the base of the stairs. Fever shone demon-bright in his eyes. Perhaps he really would be consumed by morning? Yet he lounged against the newel post with careless bravado, staring up at her.
She turned away. The tension in her body was fierce, painful, enough to make her want to fold over and gasp aloud. It hurt. This much hatred hurt like a burn. There was no compassion left in her heart. Only a black pit of rage and despair. This man had destroyed her future and robbed her past. She wanted him to hurt at least as much as she did.
"If Ι could, Ι would give you exactly what you wish," he said.
His words stopped her. She stood shaking in the hallway, but she refused to turn to meet his gaze. Only bitterness kept her upright.
"- with the rack and the wheel and the thumbscrews thrown in for good measure," he added.
She saw his reflection suddenly, in the tipped glass of an open round window, high on the wall. Wet, bedraggled, handsome as the devil. The tiny, distorted image was of a man she had thought for a moment she could love. He was burning with fever.
Her heart pounded. "Then to please me you would die tonight, for hell surely awaits you afterward."
From some deep reservoir of strength, he bowed with a flourish. "Ι shall do what Ι can, ma'am. Your wish is, as always, my command."
JULIET WOKE IN THE MORNING SURPRISED TO FIND THAT FROM pure exhaustion she had slept deeply and well, without dreams. Α steady purring echoed from the bed, where Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego lay curled in feline bliss on the cover.
Without disturbing the cats, she slipped from the bed and went to the window. Thin cotton brushed against her legs. The maid had produced a night rail the previous night, too long for Juliet, but serviceable. From the simple fabric and style, it was probably the girl's own. At least he had not sent her some prior mistress's night attire!
The storm had left the sky washed as blue as a forget-me-not. Yet pain still pressed, like an incubus, on her lungs. Somewhere far away across those fields and trees lay the home she had been given by Miss Parrett. The sanctuary a rake had invaded with his charm and deceit. The house her husband had seized and sold, when he had learned of her adultery.
Juliet turned away, sick at heart.
Α gilt-and-plaster ceiling arched above her head. The furnishings were beautiful, costly. Other than the simple nightdress, every luxury a peer's home could provide was hers. The best wine and a selection of delicacies had been sent up on a tray the night before, the silver dishes gleaming in the extravagant light of dozens of wax candles. She had left the tray untouched, so the maid had taken it away.
Juliet walked restlessly across the thick carpet to look at the painting over the mantel. Α sweep of trees and fields, dotted with black-and-white cows. Some stood hoof-deep in a stream near a picturesque folly, their reflections shimmering in the shallow water like a broken chessboard. Α small brass plate read simply "Gracechurch."
All this, all of it, she had won back for him. Then he had taken her locket and abandoned her.
Her heart ached under her ribs. It was hard to breathe. But hatred alone would not be enough to sustain her. Fighting the temptation simply to retreat back to bed, Juliet rang the bell and ordered a bath and breakfast. Abednego stretched and dug his claws into the blue-and-rose cover. Shadrach thumped to the floor. The other two cats followed.
She led the way into the small dressing room and crouched to tap her finger on the dish that a footman had set there last night. Abednego took one look at the dried gravy remaining there, turned up his tail, and stalked away. Shadrach and Meshach rubbed at her ankles, complaining. She picked Meshach up in both hands and buried her face in his soft fur.
"Ι have fresh beef for them," Alden's voice said behind her.
Juliet froze, hideously aware of her loose hair and borrowed night attire. Immediately she was furious at such an absurd feeling. He had known her naked.
"Pray, do not ask me to leave," he said.
She set down the tabby and stood up, her back to him, glad of the voluminous folds of cheap cotton. "Because you won't go?"
"In London it is quite customary for a gentleman to visit a lady in her bedchamber. Since her toilette often takes till past noon, a married lady's bedroom becomes reception room, salon and breakfast parlor."
"But she has maids and footmen in attendance at the time. Ι do not."
"If you ask, Ι must leave, of course."
"Because my wish is your command?" She filled the question with sarcasm.
He crouched to scrape some scraps of meat from the plate in his hand into the cats' dish. Unlike her, he was fully, even formally, dressed, in a morning coat of pale cream brocade. His gleaming
hair was bagged neatly in black silk.
The three felines began to gulp down their breakfast.
"Our mutual wish is to see the cats happy. Perhaps we can begin there."
"And my happiness?"
He stood up and set down the plate. "Is my only true concern."
She spun away. "Then why did you not die in the night as Ι wished?"
"Faith, ma'am!" He strode past her into the bedroom where he stood and stared from the window. "I thought you would prefer several weeks in which to torture me first. It should not be too difficult. "
Juliet watched him from the doorway of the dressing room. Light pouring in the window outlined the graceful lines of his body, the powerful back and long legs. The sun sparkled in his hair like champagne. It still moved her, that masculine beauty. She despised the feeling.
"Do Ι have so much power over you?" she asked.
He turned to face her, his eyes dark against his pale skin. Even before he spoke, her answer was there: that naked desire, the unguarded male longing that left her floundering in confusion and resentment.
"All the power is yours," he said simply. He walked back to the fireplace and indicated a chair. His hands glittered with rings. "Pray, come and sit down, ma'am. Ι would be grateful to also take a seat."
She crossed her arms. The line of his profile might have been drawn in chalk. Yet he had not hesitated to become soaked to the skin hunting for her cats-
"You were very ill?"
He glanced up, with a flash of self-derision. "The barber liberated me of a wretched excess of blood - guaranteed to cool my evil humors. You should be glad."
Juliet stalked past him to the window. She knew he reached for lightness, and she usually hated to be petty. Though with this pain in her heart, how could she forgive him anything?
"Ι am surprised that a man so obsessed with appearances would admit to any infirmity, but it's no matter to me if you stand there until you fall."
"Ι make no complaint, ma'am, since it serves your purpose."
She spun around, surprised. "My purpose?"
He had crossed his arms and pressed his shoulders back against the paneling. "To torture me."
"How?"
"The sun shining through that nightgown torments me very well." His eyes glittered like starlight. "Ι have known their touch. Ι have visualized how long and lovely they must look. But Ι have never seen your legs. No doubt their shadow beneath that poor cotton is as close as Ι ever will. It is anguish enough."
Heat washed through her thighs and belly. Horrified, Juliet sensed the betraying desire invade her bones, as if they became limber and soft. "Ι think you are telling me the truth."
"Of course. Certainly Ι brought you back here to rescue you. Ι could hardly have left you to drown outside in a storm. But Ι was well aware what an acute punishment it would be-"
"What punishment?"
"To know that we'll never be lovers again will truly be a living hell for me." He leaned his head back and laughed.
She wanted to lie down. Just that. To lie down on the floor. Instead she took a deep breath and continued standing stiffly, staring at him. "Ι thought you preferred brief affairs?"
"Not quite so brief!"
"Of course. You always end them yourself. When you become tired-" She almost choked on the words.
"When it is naturally over. Alas, ma'am, Ι do not believe it is naturally over between us."
"It was hardly a natural beginning."
"Ι know that. Yet Ι hoped-"
"What?" The anger drove her to walk again. She paced from the window to the bed, then across to the dressing room door. The cats had finished eating. Shadrach was crouched over the water dish, drinking with typical feline concentration.
"Nothing. Ι did not know that your husband lived."
"Ι thought you liked to seduce married women?"
As if he felt as driven as she did, he pushed violently away from the wall. Sunshine glanced over his brocade and lace, edged the cream with gold as he strode past the window. "But you would not have acted as you did, had you known you were not free, would you?"
She hesitated. She and her family had paid far too high a price for her marriage vows for her co set them at no value, yet George had abandoned her so long ago! In what sense did they even have a marriage?
"Would you?" he insisted.
His face seemed almost translucent, the bones shadowed under the skin. He had obviously been desperately ill, not a slight chill, not a feigned convenience. Yet the hatred turned her heart into stone - it must!
"No," she said, moving back to the fireplace. "If Ι had known that George lived, Ι would not have done it. Ι wish co heaven Ι had never met you."
"Lud, Juliet! Ι did not willingly abandon you. Yet Ι have made you hate me."
"I do hate you. Ι can't help it!" She sat down, not sure she could stand any longer.
As if in defiance, he remained standing. "Thank you, ma'am."
Did he thank her for hating him? Or because he could no longer see her legs outlined beneath the thin cotton gown? Hysteria threatened. Juliet choked it down. She no longer knew how she felt, but it wasn't indifference.
She believed he hadn't known about George. He had, in fact, tried to give her every way out, before he had accepted her offer at Marion Hall with a passion that had scorched to her soul. He had even, last night, brought a basket for her cats. Yet as long as even a part of her emotion was this fervent anger, she must feed it.
"So you first became ill at Marion Hall?" she asked. "That next morning? That is your excuse for leaving without a word?"
"Ι realize it's a poor one. Yet it's the truth. Sir Reginald's menservants had to carry me out." He gazed at her steadily. "With any kind of influenza, Ι usually run a very high fever - fast, but severe. Then Ι recover more quickly than most. Do you think Ι wanted you to wake up alone? Lud, Juliet! Even if I’d been on my deathbed, Ι longed to make love to you again."
Pain twisted in her heart. "You still stole my locket! What did you do with it?"
He did not flinch or turn away. His eyes were very dark. "Ι gave it to Lord Edward."
Her knuckles shone as she clutched the chair arms in both hands. "Why?"
"It was the final condition of our wager-"
"Oh, God! Proof!" Hatred burned in her soul like a lamp, her only light in a sea of darkness.
"Yes, proof!" She thought he fought to remain calm, to keep his voice controlled and steady. "Without the locket your sacrifice would have gone for naught and Gracechurch Abbey would be his right now."
"You couldn't have told me that?"
He seemed pinned, standing with open palms beside the window. "Ι could have, but Ι didn't. Unfortunately, Ι misjudged his motives. The humiliation and revenge had been accomplished, so what did the locket matter? Yet he would not sell it back to me."
"How noble of you to try! What did you offer him for it?"
"Something Ι believed he would value far more. In fact, Ι was devilish certain of it." He turned to the window and leaned there, staring out. "Ι misjudged that, too. He wouldn't bite. Why did he want the locket so much, Juliet?"
"Don't use my name!"
His back became rigid. Suddenly he banged one fist on the shutter, making it rattle. "Faith, ma'am! We have been lovers!"
She leaped up. "Lovers? What the deuce do you know of love?"
"Lovers! You gave me your body. Ι gave you mine. Perhaps it was for all the wrong reasons. Perhaps it happened because an enemy's foul machinations threw us together. Yet for one night we were naked in each other's arms, innocent of anything but that one glorious fact."
"The animals in the barnyard do as much."
"Don't you dare tell me that!" He spun like a fencer, his body a weapon, his voice deadly. "Our hands gloried in the feel of each other's skin. Our lips and tongues and fingers ran free as the wind to seek and explore in pure delectation. Your legs wrapped eagerly about mine. My very soul emptied in worship o
f your body. We devoured each other as if it were the dawn of creation-"
"It meant nothing - a coupling!"
"Ι know you regret it. Ι cannot! And neither, devil take it, will Ι let you deny what really happened between us."
She pointed to the door, ablaze with anger. "Leave!"
"As you wish. But let us have this one thing clear: we were magnificent lovers-"
"What difference does it make?"
"This difference, Juliet." He stalked toward her until he stood close enough to touch. His clean male scent enveloped her. "The facts. You desire me as much as Ι desire you. Ι shall not act on it. Ι shall not-"
"Ι hate you," she insisted.
"Yes, you hate me." Sunlight dazzled behind his fair head. "That changes nothing. Α desire like this flames with its own logic. If Ι were to kiss you now, you would kiss me back, with passion, with fervor, with an open, seeking mouth."
"Ι would not," she said, though her lips burned and heat ran in treacherous waves over her skin.
"Don't you dare deny it! If Ι were to touch you - even your shoulder or your hand - your legs would tremble, your body burst into flame, as mine would, as mine does just to stand this close. Your skin smolders now. Ι am scorched by the heat of it."
She closed her eyes and wrapped both arms over her breasts. "For pity's sake!"
"How the devil can Ι be merciful now?" His voice vibrated with passion. "Ι am in an agony of hunger for you. If Ι were to slide away that ugly gown and cup your naked breast-"
"Stop it!" she begged. "What are you trying to prove?"
His heels struck hard on the floorboards as he strode away and wrenched open the door. His answer came back as if he Bung it.
"The sheer magnitude of what we give up, if we never make love again, and that even if you hate me, you can trust me to admit the bloody truth and still not act on it!"
The door slammed.
Juliet staggered to the bed and curled up. Her heart raced, thundering in her chest. He was right. Oh, God, he was right! Her whole being was consumed with longing. If he had kissed her or touched her, they would be together now, naked, in this bed. Her legs burned, her groin ached. Her body yearned to open and welcome him.