What could Richard say? That he would do anything in his power to be rid of Rachel, save the one thing that would guarantee heartbreak for them all?
He flexed his hands. "If Rachel left, she would want to take Alison with her" And Richard had no real reason to deny her, at least, none he could voice aloud. "She is so young. Too much has happened in her life. Her father ..." His voice cracked. He dragged in a lungful of air, ran his hands through his hair, cleared his throat. "As her guardian, I want her here, with me, where I can see that her needs are properly met"
The intensity in Leah's gaze as she met his eyes made him uncomfortable, made him want to shift on his feet and glance away from her penetrating stare. It was as if she had just discovered he were some sort of hero, some sort of noble man, rather than a dastardly cur who had forced her into marriage to save his soul and keep his secrets. God, was he no better than her father?
"Alison," she said, true affection curling her lips and trembling in her voice. "What a love she is. Did she enjoy her present?"
"What do you think? Which reminds me.. "Richard slid his hand into his pocket, closed his fist around the trinket he'd purchased on his travels. "I have something for you, too. Now, close your eyes."
"I am not good about surprises," she said, cupping her palms over her face to keep from peeking.
He drew her left hand into his. Her nervous giggle made him laugh, or perhaps it was his own nerves that had his hand shaking as he slid the bauble onto her third finger, until it rested against her gold wedding band. It meant nothing, or so he told himself, as she opened her eyes and peered at the ring, a large, square-cut emerald surrounded by shimmering topaz.
It was a conciliatory offering for the abominable way he had treated her before he left. Nothing more. Nothing less.
But she gazed at him through eyes ablaze with that deep emotion he'd glimpsed in the past, eyes that dared him to search his soul, to speak the truth.
Her sweet words rose up to torment him. I love you.
He rubbed his forefinger beneath the tight knot of his cravat, brushed away the sweat gathering on the back of his neck.
"A late betrothal ring," he whispered. He was not good with words. He could not say it had reminded him of her eyes, of the gold glimmering within their deep green depths, of the entrancing way she smiled at him, with the promise of forever in her gaze.
Too innocent and idealistic yet to realize forever was just a dream, but they had today.
God, she was so beautiful. He could not have spoken another word had his very life depended upon it. He cupped his hands around her neck, lowered his head as he drew her close.
He covered her mouth with his and felt the world explode. Every muscle, every tendon, tightened and clenched. Blood rushed to his groin until he was so hard, he couldn't breathe. It took all his strength of will not to shred her flimsy dress from her body, toss her upon the bed and bury himself inside her like a ravishing beast.
Instead, he forced his hands to slowly ease the ribbons fastening the gown at her nape, to bare her rounded shoulders to his touch with the slightest movement of his hand, trailing the path of his fingertips with his mouth. Exploring. Tasting.
The shape of her shoulders. The sweep of her neck. Her throaty moans threatened his fragile control. When her hands moved beneath his coat, fingers spread wide across his chest, he came undone. He tore off his waistcoat, buttons scattering over the floor. God help him, she laughed, albeit a quiet, shy, nervous laugh that touched a chord deep within him and made his breath burn in his throat. She reached for his shirt, dragged it out of his breeches, then up over his head. As her eyes ran over his chest, her lower lip disappeared between her teeth. Then she lifted her gaze to his and he thought he might drown in their deep green depths, filled with desire for him. Only for him.
"I want you to touch me," she said, her voice quivering. Her face flushing the deep purple of the finest claret, she grasped her shift at her knees, then slowly, so torturously slowly, drew it up her legs, past her hips, past her breasts.
By the time she sent it sailing to the floor, he was shaking with the need to do just that. But she wasn't done torturing him yet. Her eyes locked with his, she reached for the waistband of his breeches and popped the buttons, her knuckles brushing against the tightly bunched muscles of his stomach.
So painfully aroused he thought he might come undone before he even touched her, he dragged her onto the bed. She was wet and hot and ready, her legs wrapping around him, her mouth moving over his neck, her scent surrounding him, her murmurs of want and need burning through his blood.
Perhaps later, he would think of all the reasons he should have kept his distance, why he should not have touched her, should not have wanted her-needed her-so desperately.
But not now, driven only by his reckless desire to run his hands through her hair, to breathe the rosewater bathing her skin, to taste the salt of her flesh, to reach for the future, rather than dwell in the past. He slid within her tight passage, plunging deeply, slowly, yet fiercely, until her inner muscles clenched around him, drawing him in with short, powerful pulses, her nails digging into his back.
I love you. Her sweet declaration tormented him, but she did not say the words. He only heard them in his mind.
He should be happy. It was what he wanted. Then why did he feel so cold when it was over, when he clutched her against his chest, when his frantic heartbeat eased and languid peace rolled through his body, when heavy silence hung in the room?
Rachel was already seated at the table when Leah entered the dining room the next morning. A sense of sadness brought a momentary pause to Leah's steps. She could only imagine how difficult it must be to lose one's husband.
Still, Rachel seemed to be handling the loss amazingly well. She never spoke of her husband, nor showed any grief at his passing. No, all she showed was animosity toward Leah and a strange sense of possessiveness toward Richard.
At least now Leah understood the woman's presence in this house. Richard's devotion and love for his niece were admirable traits Leah found irresistible. It gave her hope he would as easily accept Catherine's child into his home, ifno, not if, when-she finally found him, even with the taint of bastardry to his birth.
"Why are you hovering at my back?" Rachel tossed the challenge at Leah without bothering to glance up from her tea.
For three weeks, she had outwardly professed her friendship and support while quietly undermining Leah's authority with the staff. Oh, she always did it with a smile on her face, but the malice in her voice was unmistakable, as was the superior tilt of her chin and her patronizing smile.
In the past, Leah had bit her tongue, preferring not to quarrel with her sister-in-law, but no more.
It was time she took her rightful place in this household.
She drew a deep breath. "I am Richard's wife. As such, it is my place to sit at the head of his table during formal meals, and at his right hand on more informal occasions. Therefore, you are sitting in my seat and I am asking you politely to move ""
It might sound churlish, perhaps even childish, but there was more at stake than where each woman sat at the breakfast table, and Rachel's vicious glare said she knew it.
"No," Rachel said, lifting her brows. "You are ordering me to move, but I do not take orders from you, darling. This was my home long before you arrived. It will be my home long after you depart. Now be a dear and sit over there"
"I am not going anywhere," Leah said, fighting the urge to fidget with her dress beneath Rachel's unrelenting stare.
A long moment passed before Rachel finally turned her attention back to her tea. "Why are you making a fuss? The breakfast table is no place to indulge in a fit of childish hysterics."
"That is another thing," Leah said. "I am not a child, and I resent your referring to me as such at every possible moment."
Rachel widened vapid blue eyes. "My, aren't we in a snit this morning. What will you do if I do not move? Throw yourself to the floor kicking and screami
ng as Alison does?"
I have never seen any such behavior from your daughter," was all Leah said.
They stared at one another until Rachel finally rose in a huff, her amethyst silk skirts flowing out behind her as she moved to the opposite side of the table. "You do realize, do you not, that you are behaving like the enfant you claim not to be"
"I do not know what I have done to offend you," Leah said quietly, "but I know you have taken me in dislike. I am sorry for that. I had hoped we could be as sisters. As we are not, could we, at least, strive for civility?"
Rachel puffed out her lower lip. "What is wrong, dear? Did you not get enough sleep last night? Or are you simply hungry from missing your evening meal? Oh, do forgive me, I must assume you were too busy feeding other hungers to bother attending the supper I arranged to welcome St. Austin home"
Leah wouldn't dignify that crude and utterly shocking remark with a response. Rachel's dignity was slipping, but Leah had no idea, truly could not understand, her animosity. She placed her palm on the table as she took her seat, then nearly jerked her hand onto her lap as Rachel's gaze landed on the betrothal ring Richard had given her. The jewels shimmered like green and gold fire in the morning sun streaming in through the windows.
Rachel's eyes narrowed and her lips pursed in a surprisingly nasty glare, as Rachel was ever cautious to keep her features perfectly composed, with no trace of emotion.
Richard's arrival at the table damned whatever nasty comment the woman was about to make.
"I trust you missed me this morning," he whispered near Leah's ear, his breath warm against her throat.
He raised her hand to his lips, pressed a lingering kiss against her fingertips. His smile was as wicked as the devil's own and her breathing grew shallow. The man did the most amazing things to her insides, setting her senses aflutter with one heated glance from his obsidian eyes.
"Most desperately," she said.
"This is all very amusing," Rachel said, "But perhaps not quite table talk?"
Leah flushed. All sense of sanity and reason fled the moment Richard came near her. She was thoroughly ensnared, but she would not fight her feelings, or even try to hide them.
She walked to the sidebar, dished out two plates of poached eggs in a minced ham sauce, spiced bread with burnt butter, baconned herring, sausage and cheese. As she set the dish before Richard, he flashed her a scandalous wink, which brought a burning flush to her cheeks and earned a narrowedeyed glare from Rachel. To hide her answering grin, Leah busied herself arranging her linen on her lap.
"I inspected the blue room this morning," he said, scooping up a forkful of eggs. "I admit I was a bit preoccupied yesterday and didn't see anything but you hanging on the top of that ladder. I must say, it is not quite what I expected, given Rachel's description."
Leah's bread turned to dust in her throat. "What did she say I had done?"
"Torn down the wall adjoining the conservatory."
Leah choked. "Rachel exaggerates. I would never!"
Rachel harrumphed, but Leah ignored her. "I met with an architect and had plans drawn up, pending your approval. I went ahead with my room because I did not think you would mind"
Richard nodded. "Tell me about your plans," he said. "And remember, I never want to see you up on a ladder again."
His ferocious glare made her smile. He did care. She knew it, even if he didn't yet realize it himself.
Not knowing what Rachel had told him but certain it boded ill for her, Leah described her plans to turn the blue room into an informal dining room and to open it up to the conservatory.
"I love that room," she concluded. "And it will be so nice for intimate family meals. And I should like to expand the rose garden -I do so love roses-but nothing else," she added swiftly lest he think she disliked his house. "Your home is lovely."
He covered her hand with his. "Our home, Leah."
"My, but you two are dripping treacle today," Rachel drawled. "Should I leave the room?"
Leah gripped the linen on her knee. She was beginning to think Rachel truly hated her, but she couldn't imagine why.
"Rachel tells me you have had quite a few callers while I was away," Richard said, staring at his plate. He moved his sausage around with the tip of his fork. "Have you met anyone interesting?"
His tone, low and almost slightly raspy, confused her, as did the thin slash of his lips. It was as if he had not meant to voice the question, but had been unable to rein it in.
"Rachel exaggerates. I have had none, save for my aunt-"
"What about that young man?" Rachel interrupted. "I do not remember his name, but did he not call?"
What mischief was this? Leah glared at Rachel, then looked at Richard. His lips were compressed into such a tight line, they appeared white in his sun-darkened face.
She touched his hand, then waited for him to meet her gaze before she said, "His name is Alexander Prescott, and I have not seen him. He has called here once, the morning after our wedding. He is a dear, childhood friend. A friend I have no wish to deny."
To her relief, he nodded, but his tense posture remained.
"My aunt has been my only caller," she continued. "But she has returned to Lancashire. It seems one of our neighbors has pestered her for years to marry him. Now that I am grown, she has finally accepted his suit. They have plans to travel on the continent, once they are wed"
Her aunt's departure from Town had been a sudden and devastating loss for Leah, leaving her alone in a city in which she had no true friends. But she was so pleased that Emma had found her own happiness, she could not selfishly mourn the loss of her company. Besides, she had both Alison and the children at the foundling home on whom she could lavish her affection.
Richard wrapped her hand in his. "Perhaps they could pay us an extended visit when we retire from the city."
"Honestly, Richard, what can you be thinking?" Rachel sneered. "Next you will invite the miller to move in."
"If you disapprove," he said, his voice curt, his features tight. "You are more than welcome to remain in Town"
"And breathe all that filthy sea-coal smoke? I think not. Alison would wither and die."
"Alison will go with me"
"And I will go with Alison. Our cozy little family."
"Tell me of your trip to Yorkshire," Leah said, anxious to lighten the tension that was rapidly building in the room. "What was the emergency?"
"A grease fire started in the kitchens, then spread to stables and house-"
"There is nothing left?" Rachel shrieked, her tea cup clanging against the saucer as she plopped it down. "What of the furnishings? There was a fortune just in rugs in that house!"
Richard speared a herring. "Everything was lost, but thankfully, no lives."
"You mean," Rachel jeered. "That the servants were so cowardly, they didn't even try to save the furnishings."
Leah gasped. "You cannot possibly be suggesting they should have risked their lives to save a few trinkets?"
"Trinkets? Rubenses and Rembrandts are not trinkets-"
"That is enough," Richard said. "Let us be thankful there wasn't a loss of life, and that is the end of it."
A heavy silence filled the room, broken only by the sound of forks scraping plates until the butler appeared in the doorway. "Mr. Peterfield has arrived, Your Grace. I have shown him to the library, as you requested"
"Thank you, Harris." Richard slid back his chair. He bowed to Leah. "If you will excuse me, I must meet with my man of affairs."
"Wait!" Rachel shouted before he could walk away. "The Cunningham ball is tonight. You must attend"
"I do not want to go," Leah said, a sudden heaviness in her chest. One foray amongst the ton was enough to convince her she never wanted to endure that particular torture again.
"If you do not attend functions to which she has been invited," Rachel persisted, "people will assume you are ashamed of her, or worse, given the speed with which you were wed. Not to mention your sudden disa
ppearance from Town so shortly after the wedding. Knowing the gossipmongers as you do, I am certain you can well imagine what the rumors might be"
Richard's black eyes grew darker still. The muscles in his jaw clenched. "You are right of course. We shall attend"
"But, Richard "
"No, do not protest, Leah. In this, Rachel is right. We shall attend the Cunningham rout tonight." He dropped a quick kiss on her forehead. "Now, if you will excuse me, I have important matters of business to which I must attend."
Rachel smiled at Leah over her teacup. "I do hope you have something suitable to wear."
Chapter Fourteen
"Look at him," Rachel whispered to Margaret, who leaned in close to her side. "He is making a fool of himself over that girl."
She snapped open her fan. The stench of sweat from too many bodies crowded together in the Cunningham ballroom was enough to turn her stomach, but she swallowed back her revulsion as she watched Richard and Leah through the crowd.
Leah's hand rested on Richard's arm as they strolled around the room, their movements slowed by all the men vying to toady up to Richard. Whenever his attention was diverted, the women, Rachel noted with malicious glee, gave Leah the cut direct, or simply stared through her as if she wasn't present.
Rachel almost felt pity for the girl. She could not imagine how one would endure the social stigma of the cut direct. The dreadful thought was enough to send an indelicate, unladylike shudder across her skin.
The chit looked pretty enough, a sun-kissed glow on her cheeks that made Rachel want to scratch her fingernails across the flawless skin. It was amazing Leah appeared so wellrested, considering she'd not slept much the night before.
Rachel knew this because she'd stood in the chit's dressing room and listened to the sounds of carnal relations emanating through the bedchamber door. Not that she had meant to spy.
Truly, the last thing she had wanted to see, or rather to hear, was the man she loved disporting himself between another woman's thighs. She'd only wanted to offer Leah help in choosing the right ensemble to wear this evening. The unexpected sounds of Richard's throaty groans mingling with Leah's breathless cries had left Rachel stunned, her feet frozen to the floor.
A Dangerous Man Page 13