Willoughby 03 - A Rogue's Deadly Redemption

by Jeannie Ruesch

“To put my clothes on.” Her voice was sharper than intended but his grip slackened enough for her to slide off the couch and stand up.

  She was stark naked.

  Lily grew conscious of every single flaw in her body.

  “What happened?” Confusion laced his words, with an underscore of hurt. “Did I do something wrong? Lily, what is it?”

  She held her dress up to her bare chest, realizing she couldn’t get dressed without his help. Tears pushed at her eyes, and the words she wanted to say sat in her throat like a lump of unrealized potential.

  The need to run and the need for him took opposite positions on the battlefield inside of her, armed and willing to fight, wrapping her tighter and tighter until she struggled to draw a breath.

  She had spent years walling herself away from this desire. She had read every gossip innuendo about Robert’s activities over and over again to smack her feelings down, to force herself to admit that her husband was never going to be the man she wanted him to be.

  The scandal sheets had said he’d frolicked with other women. She’d so loved that word choice.

  He was a criminal.

  He’d left her alone to deal with the loss of their child.

  You pushed him away.

  He didn’t want me.

  This man does.

  This man isn’t real.

  How do you know?

  She heard the rustle behind her and seconds after that felt the heat of him behind her. Not touching, though, which made her ache more. She wanted—she wanted so much.

  She wanted everything.

  Right now, she wanted to feel. The joy spurting through her at his touch, his love, was like a drug—she craved it. She didn’t want to give it up.

  Just one more day of that feeling. That was all right, wasn’t it? Just this minute. Tonight. One more day.

  Tomorrow, she’d think. Today, she would feel.

  Lily swirled around, dropped the dress at her feet and wrapped her arms around Robert. She stood on her toes, lifted her face and pressed her lips to his.

  They became a tangle of arms, legs, kisses and sighs as they made their way back to the couch. Lily poured her heart and soul into every touch, let her body squeeze every single moment until they were once again one.

  Her hands flattened against his back, feeling the sharp ridges of muscle and bone, loving the weight of him on top of her. Loving him.

  She opened her eyes, discovered his right above her, filled with an emotion she had never seen in his face before. It softened the harsh contours, it made him someone else.

  This Robert was her Robert.

  “I love you,” she whispered.

  Robert cocked his head. “Say that again.”

  A smile tugged at her lips. “I love you.”

  “Louder.”

  She laughed. “I love you.”

  She didn’t care if it made little sense. She didn’t care if their love was a cannon waiting to be lit.

  He murmured an echo of her words, once, twice and a third time as they snuggled into each other. Curve matched curve, and Lily had never felt so complete.

  Robert’s fingers caressed a soft line over her arm in a lazy pattern. “Would you tell me what our life was like? Our marriage?”

  Lily flinched. She didn’t want to think about the past.

  He nudged her with his nose. “I made the assumption it wasn’t happy, given you moved out. So it makes it sweeter that you tell me that part of our lives while in my arms, don’t you think?”

  A kernel of fear popped inside. What if he remembered? What if talking about their marriage—such as it was—brought back his memories?

  What would happen then? Who would he be?

  “How did we meet?” he pushed lightly.

  “You were at my house, paying a call,” she admitted.

  “To you?”

  “No.” She rushed to add, “We were introduced. You were visiting, and I was sitting in the corner reading.”

  “I was so overcome by your beauty, I begged you to talk to me,” he teased. His fingers twined with hers and he held their joined hands up. Lily looked at them, the contrast of his ruddier skin to her light skin, his larger hand to her smaller one.

  “You couldn’t take your eyes off me,” she found herself teasing in return. It wasn’t untrue.

  Robert had been in the parlor that morning, one of several men calling upon Cordelia. Adam had coerced Lily to go into the room with him and introduced her before Lily escaped to her corner to write in her journal.

  But she hadn’t been able to stop looking at Robert.

  “We caught glances a few times,” she remembered. Her heart had raced. Her breath had caught, and she remembered the tingly way her body had felt.

  “You winked at me.” When he had, she’d felt herself jump right off that cliff into the shocking waters of infatuation.

  “I did?” he asked, sounding pleased. “At least I was smart enough to know to catch your eye.” He pressed a kiss against the crest of her shoulder, sending warmth through her. “Was it always this way between us?”

  She stilled, even though the lazy circles of his fingers were driving her to madness. “What way?”

  “This good. So comfortable.”

  Lily couldn’t form an answer. In part because her brain wanted nothing more than to disappear and let her body revel, but also because anything she said would chance ruining the moment. How could she answer truthfully?

  How could she not?

  “Why did I let you leave?” he asked in a soft tease meant to keep the mood light.

  But all it did was remind Lily of what was, what had been and what would be again, when Robert regained his memory.

  No. She didn’t want to think that way. He wouldn’t forget these moments. When his memory flooded, this pull, this need to be with each other wouldn’t fade. It couldn’t.

  It would devastate her if it did.

  But doubt had a way of seeping in, burrowing deep. Lily could feel the walls begin to form around her, like a shroud.

  “Lily,” Robert urged, turning her around. “Don’t do that. Don’t hide from me. I didn’t mean to remind you of things I can’t recall, memories you have I can’t share, that I can’t fix.” His hand came to rest on her cheek. “I can promise—”

  “You can’t promise anything,” she interrupted. This time, she got back up, found her clothes. She couldn’t have this conversation naked. “Robert, you cannot make promises you can’t keep. Once your memory comes back—and it will, it has to—we’ll—”

  “What?” He grabbed his pants from the floor, stabbed a leg in. “What will happen? What are you expecting?” He stood, pants secured and came over to stand next to her as she pulled her undergarments on, played maid to help her with her gown. Once the last button was latched, he turned her around slowly. “What if I never remember, Lily? Have you considered that?”

  Lily bent her head. Yes. She had. She was ashamed to admit a part of her yearned for that outcome. It was foolish and crazy.

  Robert had to remember. He had to, or those men wouldn’t stop.

  But maybe, if he didn’t remember…they could leave. They could go to America together. Start over together.

  “I want you to tell me about our marriage. Tell me why you left.”

  She paused, and he pressed. “Please.”

  She struggled to find the words.

  “Were we ever happy?”

  She looked up, met his gaze and in an instant saw a resignation that echoed hers. He frowned, confusion drawing his brows together. “Did you ever love me?”

  “Yes.” Her answer was swift, and sure.

  “And I loved you,” he replied. “So it couldn’t have been all bad.”

  “You didn’t—It’s complicated.”

  “I didn’t what? Stop prevaricating, damn it. Something must have changed. Start there.”

  Her hands fluttered down to her stomach and pressed in, as if she could stop the past from hap
pening.

  Robert missed nothing. He placed a hand over hers. “Lily?”

  Tears she had thought long dried flooded her eyes, spilled like a waterfall of agony.

  “Were you pregnant?” he asked.

  She nodded. His arms came around her, drawing her in. “I’m so sorry. I am so sorry, my love.”

  His gentleness undid her. The deep ache from inside tore out in a sob. She clung to him, like a child starved for affection. Her nerves spiked until her entire body vibrated with the grief. The years faded away, her sorrow rose to the surface, but different this time. She wasn’t alone.

  “You…you blamed me.” She needed him to know, needed him to tell her he’d been wrong, that he’d forgiven her.

  She hadn’t realized how much she wanted his forgiveness.

  His body tensed. “No, I couldn’t have. I wouldn’t.” His hand came to cup her chin. “I would never blame you, Lily.”

  “You asked me what happened. That’s when it changed. That’s when you turned away from me. What else could it have been?”

  His jaw clenched, but his anger wasn’t directed at her. “God, I hate that I can’t remember my bloody life. But it had to be something else. It had to be—” He pulled away from her. “Lily, the love I feel for you, it’s too strong, too deep-set. It’s a part of me. I married you. I wanted you. Why would I have let that go?”

  Her heart shook in her chest at his questions. Why would he ask that?

  “What? We were married.”

  “Of course.”

  She ducked her head again. “But it was…coerced.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “We were found together.”

  “And…”

  “Alone.”

  “Ah.”

  Thoughts of that night, of the joy she’d felt when he had answered her letter.

  Or had he? The question that Cordelia had flung at her burned. Lily hadn’t asked Robert why he’d come that night. She had assumed it had been because she’d asked. They’d had so little time before Cordelia had discovered them.

  Here he stood, wanting to talk and unable to provide the answer. She didn’t know why it was so important. Perhaps because then at least the marriage, however dismal it had been, had been built from their combined mistake. Theirs.

  Not hers.

  If he’d come at Cordelia’s request that night, then everything she had been through was her failure. Her utter, complete failure to be enough for the man she’d wanted to be everything for.

  “If I was willing to be caught with you, I must have known what I was doing.”

  Fear clamped her throat. Every part of her tensed to flee. She had to stop this. He would remember. Guilt weighed her down, but she couldn’t open her mouth, admit the rest. Even say Cordelia’s name. Somehow, she worried that even a mention would change course, shift his attention.

  “What happened to make you leave?”

  She slipped out of his reach, walked to the window. The street outside seemed another world, separate from their cocoon inside. She felt like the moth that had hidden for months, but now, Robert was by her side instead of out there.

  This time, he stood right behind her.

  “You stopped seeing me.” The words were painful to say, to admit out loud. They seemed so small, such a minor thing, really. “The days you were here at all, you walked past me as if I wasn’t in the house. I often wondered if you realized I was there.” She turned back into the room and paced. “You have to understand. When I chose to move out of this house, it had no bearing on your day to day life, or mine really.”

  “Why? What was I doing?” He winced as he asked it, as though afraid of her response.

  “Something to do with those men, I imagine. But you never told me anything, so I don’t know what.” She centered her breathing until she could focus again. “We should continue searching. They are waiting for whatever it is you’re supposed to provide them.”

  At her words, Robert shifted his body away from her.

  “Did you find something?” she asked.

  He walked over to the desk, picked up the sketches of her. Her heart gave a flip. What did it mean that Robert had drawn those? That he’d spent so much time drawing her?

  Had he drawn Cordelia?

  The ugly thought refused to leave, and Lily stepped toward the desk. “Can I see the books?” She shouldn’t care. She shouldn’t want to know.

  Robert wrapped his hands around them. “To see your sketches?”

  She nodded, ignoring the white lie. But he didn’t hand them over. Instead he held them closer.

  “Lily, there is something I should—”

  A slamming door cut off his words.

  “Lily! Where in blazes are you?”

  Lily groaned.

  “Adam.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Robert’s fingers dug into the books. “Adam? Who is that?”

  Lily looked slightly tortured. “I am sorry—”

  Suddenly, a man burst into the room. Tall, blond, furious. His gaze narrowed onto Lily.

  “What in hell are you doing here?”

  Robert slammed the book down. “You will not speak to her that way in her own home.”

  Edwin followed in. Robert held a hand to stop him. Edwin stayed, but crossed his arms and positioned himself a few feet away.

  The man, Adam, gave him a withering stare. “You stay out of this.” He turned to Lily. “You left.”

  “Now, Adam—”

  “Don’t pull that tone with me. Whatever shape you were in, whatever happened was enough for Blythe to send for me and Ravensdale at the House to discuss it. At the bloody House, Lily. Do you realize the tongues that will stir?” He took in a deep breath as though to calm himself.

  Anger prickled Robert’s skin like needles. He came around the desk and stood next to Lily. “I think you should leave.” His tone was flat.

  Lily put a hand on his chest. “Robert, this is my brother.”

  A ripple of relief rolled through him. Robert watched as Adam’s knowing gaze followed Lily’s hand, then lifted to match measuring stares with Robert. “Then he should remove himself until he can speak in a more civil tone to you in your own home.”

  “My home is her home,” Adam replied. “She left this one.”

  “Oh dear lord, not again.”

  The voice was a female, not Lily’s. Robert tore his gaze from Adam’s to see the doorway filled yet again, this time by two strikingly different, beautiful women and one imposing man who loomed, ready to fight the cavalry.

  “Oh, lovely. The cavalry is here,” Lily muttered loud enough for him to hear, reading his thoughts.

  The troupe moved into the room as one, coming to flank Adam’s sides. One woman, blond, petite and with fire in her eyes, stepped closer to Lily and put her hands on her shoulders.

  “I should smack you soundly,” she said. “Do not leave like that. You didn’t even leave a note.” The accusation lost its might when she pulled Lily into a hug. As she stepped away, she shot a glare in Robert’s direction.

  Family relations had not been his strong suit, it would seem. Shocking.

  The other woman, tall with a head of dark curls and a presence like a whirlwind, strode up to Lily and pulled her into a hug. “I’m emotional. Don’t do that to me. If you make me cry, I will never forgive you.”

  “Neither would I,” Adam added.

  Robert studied the lone man who had yet to say a word. He stood in stony silence, the flat line of his mouth and the unblinking stare a solid indication that his opinion was no better.

  “I’m Robert.” With that, all gazes turned to him. “I realize you know this. But I do not know you.”

  Stone Man frowned. “What is this nonsense?”

  “It’s true,” Lily said. “Robert was in an accident. He doesn’t recall his memories.”

  The man looked down at the blonde. “Did you tell me this?”

  She patted his hand. “Yes, Michael. B
ut in your defense, you were knee deep in ledgers at the time.”

  “That is why I’m here,” Lily added. “He needs help.”

  Adam looked at the rest. “This is what required us leaving Parliament? Not, mind you, that today’s topics were scintillating, but that is beside the point.”

  Stone Man grunted. “It was bloody boring, Merewood, and you know it.”

  “Your sister was taken,” the blonde said in exasperation.

  “But she’s right here.” Adam gestured to Lily.

  “Oh for God’s sake. Earlier. She said something about thugs taking her, and it has something to do with him.” Her finger pointed right at Robert, and with it, the full attention of the room’s occupants.

  “What is this?” Adam stepped closer. “Lily, what happened? Are you hurt?”

  “Do I appear hurt?”

  “No.” Adam lifted his hands. “But that doesn’t matter.” Lily raised her hands in irritation, but he ignored her. “You’re coming home. We’ll discuss it there.”

  Lily stepped back, her back pressing against Robert. Without thinking—and had he had any of his faculties, he might have realized that it wouldn’t be wise—Robert curved his arm around her waist and towed her closer.

  The room went silent.

  “It’s time someone explained what’s going on here.” Her brother’s tone was as hard edged as a rock.

  Lily pulled away from Robert’s arm, and he felt the loss immediately. “Fine.”

  “No.” He jabbed a pointy finger at Robert. “He will.”

  “But he doesn’t remember what to tell you.”

  “Lily, it’s fine,” Robert said. “I’ll talk with your brother.”

  Before she could protest further, the women whisked her to the corridor and Robert was left in the room with both men. Their stances suggested they were ready for battle, legs wide, arms crossed, determined glares.

  Robert spotted Edwin and dismissed him with a nod, hoping he would understand that he wanted Edwin to watch over Lily. Be certain her family didn’t have a mind to whisk her away.

  “Perhaps you might start with your names?” Robert turned to the brothers. He’d be damned if he would cower to these men, memory or not.

  “Merewood. Lily’s brother.” He nodded his head at the other man. “Ravensdale.”