A Dangerous Man

by Janmarie Anello

  She turned her palm up, seeking the warmth of his skin to ease the chill in her heart. He laced his fingers through hers, and side-by-side, they waited through the night.

  When the first feeble rays of dawn spilled gray light through the kitchen window, the doctor smiled. "I believe we can safely assume the boy is out of danger now."

  As if she did not believe his words, Leah ran her fingers over Tommy's brow. He still drew breath, his skin did not burn.

  She buried her face in her hands. Her thoughts seemed strangely detached, slightly disoriented, as if she were moving through a dream. She heard Richard speak, felt his resonant voice tremble over her skin, but she could not discern his words.

  When he swung her into his arms, she wrapped her hands around his neck, pulled herself closer to his solid chest and the strength he offered. She was vaguely aware of Mrs. Bristoll tucking her cloak beneath her chin, of whispered words that made no sense, then Richard carried her to the carriage awaiting them.

  He cradled her across his lap through the seemingly endless ride through the streets, his warm hands stroking gentle circles on her back, his murmured words, soft and soothing near her ear.

  When they arrived home, he carried her to her room, swiftly stripped off her clothing, slipped her nightgown over her head, then wrapped her in his arms as he sat in a chair by the windows.

  The morning sun burned against her skin and still, violent shivers wracked her body. She burrowed against his chest, seeking his warmth, his strength, his silent reassurance. He kissed her brow, rubbed his hands over her back and held her secure in his arms as her tears soaked his shirt.

  She could not say what made her weep, the joy that Tommy still drew breath, or the grief for her lost sister, once unleashed, now trembling through her with penetrating horror.

  When her tears dwindled to a final sob, the urge to hide from her shameful lack of control set her legs to trembling, but she tilted her head to meet his gaze. His midnight eyes peered back at her, their smoky depths filled with an emotion she dared not contemplate in her unsteady state.

  He offered her a grim smile. "How do you feel?"

  "About the same as the day I crashed into the rock" She did not recognize her own throaty voice.

  His lips twitched, but his smile did not hide the concern in his eyes. "I daresay you looked better when you bashed your head" The rhythmic beat of his heart beneath her ear soothed her with its soft cadence. "Talk to me."

  His deep voice rumbled in his chest. It was a comforting sound. Leah drew a shaky breath. "I have a sister. Her name is Catherine. She is sweet and kind and beautiful, and I haven't seen her in nearly five years"

  Richard stroked her arm. "What happened to her?"

  "The usual, sad tale. . "Her throat tightened. A clenching pain burned within her breast. She closed her eyes. "A dashing rogue seduced her, promised her love and fidelity, then abandoned her when she found herself with child. My father banished her from our lives and forbade the mention of her name"

  Richard clamped his arms around her, protective bands of steel to keep her safe as she waded through the pain of her past and her father's treachery. She smoothed her hand over his cravat, wrinkled now beyond repair. "I do not know where she is. I do not know if I have a niece or a nephew. Or they could both be dead and I would never know."

  "How old were you at the time?"

  "Fourteen" She curled into his shoulder, seeking his heat to banish the cold seeping through her bones. The chirping of birds nesting in the trees outside her window seemed an incongruous sound to the turmoil swirling within her mind.

  "Catherine was seventeen. I do not understand. Why did she never contact me? Didn't she know that I would worry? That I loved her? That I would never condemn her? I would have found some way to help her, if only I had known where she was"

  "I understand your anger at her-"

  "I'm not angry at her. I am angry at my father."

  "Of course you are." Framing her face with his hands, Richard stroked his thumbs over her cheeks in a soothing caress. His morning beard covered his chiseled jaw. He smiled tenderly, his eyes dark and mesmerizing in their intensity. "She abandoned you to wonder and worry about her fate. You have every right to feel angry. And hurt. But you have no reason to feel any guilt. There was nothing you could have done"

  Leah started to protest, then collapsed in his arms. "Perhaps you're right. Perhaps I am angry at her. I do not know any more. Everything is such a muddle."

  "Tell me about the foundling home"

  "When I think of Catherine and her child, I cannot help but wonder, are they treated well? Or is her child scorned because he is a bastard?" Leah twisted her hands in his shirt. "Bastard! What a vicious word. As if a babe has any choice in when or where he comes into the world, or who his parents are"

  Some dark emotion flared in his eyes before he pulled her tightly against his chest until no space was left between them. His familiar scent of jasmine and amber soothed her as surely as his warm breath fluttering over her brow.

  "So many children in this world suffer for their birth," she said, her lips touching his neck, tasting the salt of his skin. "Especially amongst the poor. Back home, I thought their lives were bleak, but nothing compares to the wretchedness of this city. The filth, the squalor. It is bad for the adults, worse for the children because no one loves them, and they do not understand. Every child should have someone who loves him."

  Her unspoken words hung in the air. Did someone love her sister's child? Care for him when he was ill? Comfort and hold him when he wept? What was his name? What color were his eyes?

  Had her sister ever married? Did she have enough to eat?

  Does she ever think of me?

  Leah shuddered, as if from a sudden fever.

  She forced her thoughts back into the darkness where they could not cause her pain. "Mrs. Bristoll is a kind soul. She spends her money on food and housing, but what about clothing? A visit from the doctor is very dear. Who pays for that?"

  "How did you choose this particular establishment?"

  "Mrs. Bristoll is sister to the vicar in my home parish. When he learned I was travelling to Town, he asked me to deliver a parcel for him. Once I met her and learned of her good work, how could I not support her?"

  "I understand your desire to help, but can you not confine your charitable deeds to a better part of Town?"

  Leah almost laughed, but the ache in her chest was still too tight. "Oh, I don't know. Do you suppose Mayfair has many homeless children who need my help?"

  He chuckled grimly. "I suppose not. But what about the Foundling Hospital? They would welcome your support"

  Leah shook her head. "Do not misunderstand me. The Foundling Hospital is a wonderful institution, but those children have numerous people attending to their needs. There are thousands more with nowhere to turn. Those are the children who need my help. Those are the children-"

  Richard pressed his fingertips to her lips. "Enough. I am convinced and converted. At least now I understand why it is so important to you. You may continue your visits provided you always take the Town coach and travel with four outriders of my choosing." Her sulky nod made him grin, as if he did not quite expect her to give in so easily. "I find it hard to fathom your father allowed you traipse around St. Giles."

  Leah shrugged. "He did not know. He did not care, as long as I did not mention Catherine or her child or the poor or anything else he found disagreeable." She fingered the collar of his shirt, peeked at him from beneath her lashes. "Richard, I ... I am dreadfully sorry for the hideous things I said to you yesterday. It seems I have a bit of a temper."

  He laughed. "So I noticed. Unlike me, of course, who is possessed of the most even temperament. And that, my dear, is the closest to an apology you will ever wring from me. We men have rules, you see. Never apologize. Never admit defeat. And never discuss anything when we can issue orders instead."

  "We shall have to see about that"

  He laugh
ed again, his smile soft and tender. Never had he looked so handsome, his hair unruly from his hands sliding through it, his clothing wrinkled, his shirt stained with her tears. The words she longed to say burned her throat.

  "I did not set out to deceive you," she said instead. "I have simply kept my own counsel for so long, it never occurred to me to mention my visits to the foundling home. I just assumed you would not care"

  "I care," he said vehemently. "I care about your safety."

  But he did not love her.

  It does not matter, she told herself as she pressed her lips to his neck, as he groaned and covered her mouth with his, hot tongue sliding between her teeth, as he shifted her in his arms and carried her to bed, as she shuddered in his embrace, first with unbearable need, then with unbearable pleasure, she told herself it did not matter. He was her husband, and he was all that was kind and caring. Perfectly polite. Exquisitely civil. Honorable to his core. It should be enough.

  But the empty ache in her chest gave truth to the lies she told herself. As much as she chided her foolish notions, she wanted him to love her as she loved him. But she could no longer think. He was doing such wondrous things to her body. Hands sliding over her skin and between her legs, lips trailing fire over her breasts, drawing moans and whimpers from her throat.

  She clung to his hips, legs wrapped round his waist, pulling him closer, holding him tighter, until his release sent his seed deep inside her womb, until she crushed her fist against her mouth to keep the words locked behind her teeth. I love you.

  "Do it again," Alison said, her giggles echoing through the cavernous hall, the sound sweeter to Leah's ears than Handel's sonatas, especially when joined by Richard's rumbling laugh.

  The scandalous wink he sent Leah brought a flush to her cheeks, but Alison didn't seem to notice. She was too busy hopping from one foot to the other while pulling on their hands until finally they swung their arms and her feet left the floor.

  Alison let out a raucous shriek. Unfortunately, her joyous shout lured Rachel from the gold salon. Blue eyes narrowed, lips pursed, she glared at Leah. Even her palpable dislike, which seemed to grow more intense with each new day, could not ruin the contentment Leah felt from her afternoons spent with Richard and Alison, their routine these two weeks past.

  He spent every morning out of the house or sequestered in his office while Leah divided her time between Alison, the foundling home, as well as other charitable foundations seeking her support, and the running of her household.

  Promptly at two, Richard would arrive from wherever he was to escort Leah and Alison on an outing about Town. Each day brought some new destination, Hyde Park, the Tower, Vauxhall Gardens. They laughed and ate and grew so close, Leah thought her heart would burst with the love she felt for this man and this child. Only one event could complete her current happiness.

  To hear some word from her sister, to know with certainty that Catherine and her child were safe.

  How strange it felt to discuss, openly and without fear of her father's recrimination, all that had happened in her past. Her sister's downfall. Her mother's demise. The hopes and dreams she'd had as a child.

  Slowly, Richard began sharing his life, too, though most of his past remained a secret, locked away. His eldest brother's death had hurt him deeply, as did Geoffrey's continued absence from Town. Railing against "Geoffrey's lack of consideration for his family's piece of mind," Richard vowed to strip the skin from his backside when the wastrel bothered to return. But behind his words lurked a deeper fear, something darker Leah could not name, but she heard it in his voice, saw it in the hard set of his jaw and the shadows darkening his eyes.

  He swung Alison into his arms. "What say you, precious, tomorrow we shall explore the Menagerie, but now it is time for bed. Shall I tell you a story before tucking you in?"

  "I do not want to sleep," Alison said, tapping her fingers against Richard's cheeks, a tragic pout on her lips. "I want to go with you and Aunt Leah."

  Rachel ran her fingers along Alison's arm, her fingertips brushing against Richard's hand. "There, there, dear. Do not fret. Mama will accompany you and Uncle to your rooms"

  The maternal tenderness in her voice was so incongruous to her usual distance, Leah frowned. Not that she thought Rachel a terrible mother. Just that Leah had never, before this moment, witnessed anything remotely resembling affection.

  More a dignified tolerance of her offspring. A cold conviction that children belonged in the nursery, tucked away with the servants and other sundry items one might need for the future, but did not necessarily want in the present.

  Alison shook her head. A strand of black hair caught on her eyelashes. "I want Auntie Leah. Her stories are funny."

  "Funnier than mine?" Richard's brows lifted in mock horror. "I shall have to punish you for that precious piece of betrayal"

  He tickled her waist. Alison shrieked until her giggles made him close his eyes, made his head lean back, made a spasm of emotion cross over his features that Leah could not identify.

  The dark look Rachel threw at Leah was clear. Alison was Rachel's daughter and Leah best not interfere.

  She was right, of course. As much as Leah enjoyed the moments spent with Richard as he lulled Alison off to sleep, she could not come between Rachel and her child.

  "I shall tell you a story in the morning." She kissed Alison's cheek, then excused herself and returned to her rooms, where a steaming bath awaited her. Her maid helped her from her clothes and into the slipper bath. Oil of roses scented the water and soothed her to the brink of sleep.

  She thought of Tommy, of the rapid rate with which he had returned from sickly child to boisterous boy. It was astounding, as was Richard's generosity. Not only had he accompanied her to the foundling home several times, he had even conducted a thorough evaluation of the building and made financial arrangements for its repairs and improvements.

  Only a single dark cloud hung over Leah's happiness: Rachel's continued animosity, underscored by the neverending social obligations the balls, the routs, the dinnersLeah hated them all. But it was a necessary part of Richard's life, so she kept her own counsel.

  With a sigh, she climbed from the tub, donned a simple muslin frock trimmed with delicate lace, then sat at her dressing table to brush her hair. She leaned forward to inspect the scar across her temple, now faded to a thin, white line.

  In time, she hoped it would vanish completely. Just as she hoped to banish the demons haunting Richard's past so he would be free to love again, free to love her.

  Leah thought she was making progress in that regard. Yet, sometimes, she would catch him watching her, a dark, brooding stare that sent shivers of fear and doubt coursing over her skin.

  And he was not sleeping at all well. She lost count of how many nights he had awakened, drenched in sweat. Haunted eyes seeking hers through the darkness.

  Nightmares, he said, as he dragged her against his chest. But the desperation with which he clung to her, his heart thundering beneath her ear, told her it was something more.

  Still, she refused to give in to her insecurities, not when the future before her suddenly seemed so bright. Richard's unwavering support and understanding had given her the strength to face her past, to come to terms not only with her father's betrayal, but her sister's disappearance as well.

  While she still ached to find her sister, she no longer felt the fear that had burdened her for so long, the hidden shame that somehow she was to blame for her sister's fate. Richard was right. She was just a child. There was nothing she could have done.

  The connecting door snapped open. The object of her thoughts strode into the room and stood behind her chair. He looked sinfully handsome in his evening dress, crisp white shirt and linen neck cloth the only relief from his black coat and matching trousers. The beguiling scent of jasmine and another scent, decidedly male and uniquely his, washed over her as he met her gaze in the looking glass.

  His smile was soft and seductive and stirr
ed the desire she felt for this man. She would be afraid of the power he held over her, if not for her confidence that he felt the same need, the same hungry desire that brought his hands to her neck, fingertips gliding over her sensitive skin. "Why aren't you dressed? We are due at the Elliots in less than an hour."

  "I am not going," she said, wishing just once she could remain aloof, coldly detached, the prim and proper aristocratic wife she'd heard so much about from Rachel, a woman of breeding who did not melt from one heated touch, one whispered word.

  "Why not?" His teeth grazed her ear.

  Her lips pressed tightly together to stifle her moan. She shrugged and closed her eyes.

  He came around the chair and knelt at her feet, his large hands resting suggestively on the outer curves of her thighs. "Answer me"

  How could she describe the torture of mixing with his so" called friends? "I am tired, that is all."

  He jumped to his feet. "I will send for the doctor."

  I am not ill," she said, grabbing his hand.

  He crouched on his heels. "Then what is it?"

  She gazed at his beloved face, his brows drawn together in a tight line, his dark eyes narrowed and intent upon her face. She couldn't tell him everything, but she didn't want him to worry, so she settled on a half-truth.

  "We have had engagements six of the past ten nights," she said. "And these affairs last until dawn. I am still not used to this life you lead. I suppose I'm rather a dull sort, but I would much prefer to stay home and read ... or something .. ."

  His hands slipped beneath her frock, his fingers brushing over her ankles. Her shiver brought a smile to his lips and a dangerous glint to his eyes.

  "Something?" he murmured. His deep voice seemed to slow the movement of time, sent a languid heat over her cheeks, a tingling heaviness to her breasts, a deep ache between her thighs.

  She was aware of the rise and fall of his chest, of his appealing scent and the heat of his fingers stroking the soft skin behind her knees.