“Nevertheless, you shall have it.” Justin returned his gaze to Aidan. “Madam,” he said, extending his arm toward her for the placement of her hand on his sleeve, “it is time we take our leave.”
Although she’d tried to prepare herself for the moment when she and Justin would finally meet, she realized she wasn’t ready for it at all. Frightened eyes shot back and forth between David and Eugenia, pleading for help. Noting her distress, Eugenia protectively stepped to Aidan’s side, while David opened his mouth in protest. But before his words could leave his lips, Justin spoke with cold authority: “I suggest, Lord Manley, you do not attempt to interfere in this matter. By law, I have every right to remove my wife from your home. She is to obey me without question. Only our Queen can absolve her from doing so, and I can promise you that won’t happen. Now, either she comes with me peacefully, or she comes by force. If the latter is chosen, I assure you what ensues will not be pleasant.”
Aidan noted the instant squaring of David’s shoulders and the narrowing of his eyes. Surely he wasn’t foolish enough to take Justin on! Belatedly she remembered David’s words on how the Duke of Westover could possibly strip both Eugenia and him of everything they had, except their titles, and realized she could never allow such a thing to happen to her friends. Quickly she stepped between the two men. “I shall go without issue,” she blurted, her anxious gaze switching from one man to the other, praying one of them would back down.
Justin retreated a step. “A wise choice, madam,” he said, a lazy smile splitting his previously stony face; the change made Aidan’s breath catch. Justin noticed her feminine reaction; his smile broadened knowingly.
Furious with herself for allowing his magnetic charm to draw a response from her, she returned his discerning look with a hostile stare. “I need to fetch a few things—”
“You will come as you are—now.”
Deciding he believed she might try to escape—a thought which had indeed crossed her mind—Aidan presented him with an overly sweet smile. “As you wish, Your Grace,” she said airily, trying valiantly to mask her feelings of contempt—contempt that had grown even darker the instant she’d discovered him to be the owner of the horrid building that housed the orphans.
Justin shrewdly realized her buoyant rejoinder was not meant for him, but for her friends. Not wishing to contribute to any further feelings of ill will, whereupon he might find himself in an actual battle of fists with Lord Manley, he offered Aidan one of his heartrending grins. “I do wish, madam,” he said most pleasantly, extending his arm again. “Shall we?”
Almost as though she feared a bed of hot coals lay beneath its innocent-looking surface, Aidan looked at his arm, then cautiously placed her hand on his sleeve. Fire instantly blazed through her fingertips and shot up her arm. Ridiculous, she thought, denying the hot sensation existed. The urgent need to remove her hand swept through her, yet she resisted doing so. Only solid flesh and hard bone lay beneath the black material, she knew. Nevertheless, her hand felt as though it were burning.
Justin’s hand slipped over hers, trapping it; Aidan’s gaze skittered to his face. “A bit of insurance so when we step through the door you won’t bolt,” he whispered for her ears alone. He tightly wrapped his fingers around hers, then looked at David and Eugenia. “Again, I apologize for the intrusion. Good night.”
With long strides, Justin began escorting his errant wife toward the door. Aidan’s feet scrambled wildly to keep up with him.
“Wait!” Eugenia cried, drawing the departing couple’s attention. “Aidan, are you certain this is what you truly want?”
“Yes,” Aidan lied freely. She could say little else or she’d risk harming her friends. How, she was unable to say, for she doubted Justin Warfield would resort to physical violence. But just the same, she didn’t wish to chance it. “Don’t fret, Eugenia. I’ll be all right.”
“Lady Manley,” Justin said, his tone conciliatory, “I assure you no harm shall come to Aidan. If you know anything of my reputation, you will realize I am quite the opposite of Lord Sedgewinn. Please understand that my wife and I have some urgent matters to settle. Once done, Aidan shall be allowed to communicate with you.” With his pledges made, Justin guided his wife through the door and into the darkness.
Surrounded by the cool night air, which was not half as chilly as Justin’s mood, Aidan stared blankly at the array of buildings along the route the carriage was taking toward St. James’s Square. With her arms crossed over her youthful bosom, her heart jumping fearfully beneath, her hands rubbed along her bare flesh near her elbows. Seeing the movement, Justin leaned forward in his seat, opposite Aidan’s, and removed his coat.
“Put this around your shoulders,” he said, stretching the thing toward her. “It will keep you warm.”
Aidan’s gaze centered itself on him. “Keep it. I’m fine just as I am.”
One dark eyebrow arched. “Put it on, I say, or I shall wrap you in it myself.” Aidan cast him a rebellious glare while declining to accept it. “Of course,” he continued, a frosty smile pulling at his lips, “should you take a chill and fall gravely ill, all my problems will be solved. But I doubt very much you will enjoy lying in the grave, for that’s precisely where you might find yourself if you refuse to listen. The choice is yours.”
Aidan hesitated a brief moment, assessing him. Undoubtedly he’d be as pleased as Punch should she catch her death. Not wanting him to be relieved of his misery in a way that would only add to her own, she snatched the coat from his outstretched hand and pulled it around her shoulders, a decided mistake.
Justin’s alluring masculine scent clung to the material and floated upward, instantly stimulating her senses. Visions of their coach ride to Gretna Green filled the field of her mind, as did the remembrance of his heated kiss. Stop it! she silently admonished herself. He was a rogue, a charlatan, and an abuser of children, who wanted naught to do with her—nor she, him! She pushed the coat downward, keeping her arms covered, then glanced at Justin. “Satisfied?” she asked waspishly.
“Not until I’ve found a way to be rid of you legally. Then, and only then, will I be satisfied.”
Aidan decided not to comment on his statement, yet she wondered if he’d considered other ways to free himself of her, besides those which were deemed within the law. Probably, she concluded, knowing she’d fleetingly thought of several ways to unburden herself of him. The problem was, how not to get caught. Yet, the way fortune had been frowning upon her of late, she feared half of London would stand at her trial to bear witness against her. Murder was obviously out of the question. But she wondered if Justin had considered similar methods himself.
His cool calculating manner, coupled with his sole determination to be free of her, told her it was highly possible. Realizing it, Aidan suddenly felt very apprehensive. “Why did you come for me?” she blurted in a strident voice.
“Right now, I’m wondering that myself,” Justin replied flatly. “Until less than two hours ago, I thought you were still safely tucked away at Warfield Manor. But I soon discovered differently. Tell me,” he said almost casually, while rolling his head on his shoulders, trying to relieve the tension which had settled there, “how did you manage to escape your guards?”
As Aidan watched the taut sinew flex beneath his white shirt, she could not deny that he was a fine male specimen. Strong, lean, and muscular, he was broad of shoulder and narrow of hip, not an ounce of undesirable flesh anywhere. Nor was he corseted, as was the custom these days for fashion’s sake.
His long fingers moved over his flat belly, massaging it; then they went to his throat, removing his cravat. The scrap of white material fell across his knee; then the studs were slipped from his shirt front, halfway down his chest, exposing a mat of dark hair. Instantly Aidan wondered if he planned to disrobe completely. Unconsciously, she pulled his coat more securely around herself.
Justin emitted a sigh. “Forgive me, but I’ve been trussed up long enough. Now, madam, how did y
ou make your escape?”
“If I told you, I’d be sharing a secret that could very well be of use to me in the future,” she retorted haughtily, not wanting to say anything which might implicate his aunt. “You’ll just have to be satisfied with the knowledge your security measures were not all they might have been.”
Justin eyed her closely, then was certain he’d found a way to break her imposed silence. “I can only assume you bribed one of my men. But since you had no money, it would seem highly improbable—unless, madam, you offered him what you had no right to give.” He paused and waited.
“And what might that be?” she asked without thinking.
Justin smiled indifferently. “That which I alone hold claim to—your own sweet body.”
Insulted, Aidan sputtered with indignation. “Why, you … you … you braying ass! How dare you suggest—”
“Ah, we’ve arrived,” Justin cut in, trying to contain his laughter. The instant the carriage had stopped, he stood and stepped down. His cravat and shirt studs held in his right hand, he offered Aidan his left. She ignored it and swept from the carriage and up the steps, stopping at the entry to Westover House.
Justin noted her stiff form and smiled to himself. For some evil reason, he enjoyed nettling her. Perhaps, he admitted, it was because she’d been part of the conspiracy to trap him. If he could not find a way to escape his marriage, then he was going to make her suffer for her transgressions. And since she’d elected to come to London, against his express wishes, her heartaches were about to begin. Indeed, he needed to teach her a lesson in obedience. And until she learned who was master, she would be made to pay—dearly.
A frown marked his brow as he wondered what exactly he was to do with her. He could lock her in her room and discard the key. But then there would be talk and innuendo. The little that he’d suffered earlier in the evening at White’s had been more than enough for anyone’s comfort. He did not wish to be the brunt of their jokes again. Blast it all! The vixen was fast becoming a thorn in his side, one he wanted to remove, and quickly. Unfortunately, he didn’t know how to go about it. Short of murder, that is.
As he stepped to her side and reached around her to open the door, Justin’s hand automatically settled at Aidan’s waist to guide her through. Strangely, the act seemed quite natural to him. Then his fingers drew themselves more firmly around her middle, trying to explore more of her feminine softness, but the cumbersome material of his coat blocked his way. Suddenly she broke free of his hold, as though his caress repulsed her, and stepped into the foyer. Perplexed by his odd feelings, he decided his unexplained desires had erupted merely because she was female and he was male—nothing more.
Aidan’s eyes scanned the entry. Westover House appeared to be a miniature replica of the house at Warfield Manor, pink-veined marble flowing outward and upward. Except where Warfield Manor had a central staircase leading up into the great hall, Westover House had dual staircases, a span of a dozen feet separating them. His and hers? she wondered, knowing, whichever one he used, she’d employ the exact opposite.
“They were designed to keep the flow of guests moving whenever there was a ball,” Justin said instinctively. “Not for the purpose you have in mind.”
“Nonetheless, I believe it best we stay as far apart as possible, lest one decide to trip the other in passing.”
Justin chuckled. “Ah, I see we have a lust for blood on our mind. Whose death do you prefer, yours or mine?”
“Neither,” Aidan stated sharply, stepping away from him.
“Well, let’s see if we can make at least one journey up them without some sort of mishap.”
Justin grabbed Aidan’s hand and pulled his reluctant wife toward the stairs, his coat falling to the floor as he did so. When she refused to lift her foot, Justin swept her up into his arms and bounded up the steps, pretending to lose his grip on her twice. Frightened by the action, Aidan looped her arms around his neck, tightening them like a vise, nearly choking Justin in the process. Once they’d reached the landing, he dropped her knees and she slid against him, her feet barely touching the floor.
Pressed together as they were, their gazes instantly locked and held. For an enduring moment, violet eyes studied those of liquid silver; then Aidan noted how Justin’s wicked smile faded slowly. The arm at her waist tightened for a brief moment, drawing her closer, then suddenly withdrew. Long fingers pulled her arms away from his neck, and he stepped back. Strangely, Aidan felt an emptiness invade her.
“We survived, madam,” he said in an oddly taut voice. “I no more want your death on my conscience than you do mine. If we are wise, we shall try to work through this in whatever way the law affords us.”
Recovering from the shock of his nearness, his silvery gaze searching hers intently, Aidan whispered, “Then you believe me when I say I had no knowledge of my father’s plans to marry us—”
“I haven’t decided on that yet,” he countered abrasively, for he suddenly realized his unsteady breathing had little to do with his fast trek up the stairs. The knowledge angered him. Taking her arm, he guided her toward a lighted room just across the hall. “I have, however, concluded we shall make whatever effort it takes to divest ourselves of one another. I do not wish to be married to you. Take it as fact.”
As he deposited her in a chair opposite the large mahogany desk in his study, Aidan wondered if he thought her such a vile creature that in no manner of speaking would he be able to tolerate her. Her pride rebelled, for she knew she was quite passable in looks, she bathed and groomed herself regularly, and dressed fashionably. She even had the best of manners when she put her mind to it. Why, then, did the man seem so repulsed by her?
Apparently Justin had read her mind. “Don’t take any of this personally, Aidan,” he said as he seated himself behind his desk, “but I was quite happy with my life the way it was before we married.”
“So was I,” she countered.
“Were you?”
“Yes, I was.”
“Then explain why you didn’t marry Sedgewinn like your father planned.”
Instantly she wondered if the man was a complete imbecile. Angered that he dared ask such a thing, she lashed back, “Perhaps I should have. At least then I wouldn’t have to be sitting here listening to you.”
“If you’d like, I can drop you off at Lord Sedgewinn’s now. If we hurry, I’ll be able to have you there within the quarter-hour.”
“No!” she cried, believing he just might do it. “I don’t ever want to see that odious man again.”
Justin viewed her for a long moment. “Then don’t ever say you’d rather be linked to him than to me. I assure you I’m far more understanding than he is.” Aidan didn’t respond and he reached for the container of brandy which sat on a tray atop the smooth surface of his desk. “May I offer you some?” he asked, raising the crystal decanter for her inspection.
“I’d prefer some wine.”
“Sorry, this is all I have at the moment.”
Realizing she needed something to steady her jumpy nerves, Aidan decided the brandy was better than nothing at all. “A small amount, please.”
Justin sloshed the liquid into their glasses and handed Aidan’s over the desk to her. “To your health,” he said in way of a toast.
“And to yours,” Aidan returned, wondering if he’d meant for it to be ill or well. Lowering the glass from her salute, she put it to her lips and swallowed a dram of the amber liquid. The brandy burned its way to her stomach. Instantly she made a sour-looking face. “How can you abide this?” she asked, shaking her head. “It’s disgusting.”
“Nonetheless, it shall keep you from fidgeting in your seat,” he said, reserving a smile. “Drink the rest.”
“Never.”
“Would you like for me to assist you?”
Eyeing him, Aidan realized he would pour it down her throat if she refused to do so herself. Raising her glass, she swallowed what was left, but amazingly she found she rather enjoyed i
t this time around. The liquor descended smoothly, and a sensation of warmth immediately overtook her, spreading through her limbs and to her brain. The tension that had coiled itself up inside her these past several days seemed to unwind, then drain from her body. Breathing deeply, she gave off a contented sigh.
Hearing it, Justin smiled. “That’s why I ‘abide it,’ as you say,” he commented with a chuckle. He swallowed the contents of his own glass and began to refill it; Aidan’s glass slid toward his. Frowning, Justin looked at it. “Are you certain you want more?”
“Very certain,” she said, smiling.
His brow rose and his lips twitched. “As you wish.” He set her full glass in front of her and watched as she sipped thirstily. “I suggest you go easy on that. If you’re not used to it, you’ll feel like you’ve been kicked by a horse in the morning.”
Twaddle! she thought in disagreement, unable to believe that anything which made a person feel this good could possibly do one harm. “Now, you wanted to discuss our options,” she said, a serious note to her voice. “Have you considered we might seek an annulment?”
“I have,” he replied as he watched her sip her brandy anew. “In fact, I’ve already had an audience with the Queen.”
“And?” Aidan asked, interrupting, then swallowed another gulp from her glass.
“And she has denied my request.”
“Why? For heaven’s sake, can’t she understand we loathe one another?”
“Loathe?” he questioned Aidan’s term, believing the word a bit overly strong. In truth, her confession briefly stung his ego. “Apparently she sees it differently; she was quite pleased to hear we were married. She believes—in her words—’we are well-suited.’”
Aidan again took a long sip from the glass, then said, “I really think, for some reason, Vi-hic—excuse me—Victoria holds a grudge against me. Sh-hic—excuse me again. She ordered me married, and now that it’s done, she won’t li-hic—listen to an appeal. Wh-hic—what do you pro … propose we do?”
Justin chuckled and shook his head. “I propose we put you to bed.”
A Heart So Innocent Page 16