“Years, I mean.”
She gaped at him. “What?”
“I told you before—I always desired you.” He gave her a rueful smile. “I just didn’t think it terribly wise.”
“It’s not,” she said. Though if he really had desired her all this time, it gave her hope for their future together.
“You let me be the judge of that.” Then he kissed her again, and her heart flipped over.
Suddenly she felt his hand inside her drawers, but before she could even get alarmed, his fingers were toying with her down there so lightly and carefully that her fear abated. Especially when he found that secret little spot that begged to be touched, the one she hadn’t even known existed until he came along.
As he’d done with his tongue in the carriage, he used his hand to excellent effect, arousing her deftly, thoroughly, until she was squirming and shimmying beneath his touch. She tore at his coat, wanting him to be as exposed as her, and he shrugged it off, then returned to caressing her. She unbuttoned his waistcoat and slid her hands inside his shirt to feel the broad, strong expanse of chest.
Heavens, he had a fine and manly chest. She found his nipples and teased them until he groaned and stroked her more firmly below. She didn’t mind. Especially when what he was doing made her want to vault up into the trees, to sing and shake and behave like a wild wanton. With him.
How could she have known Edwin could do these things? Who would have thought that being with a man could feel this pleasurable?
“You’re so hot and wet, minx,” he rasped against her lips. “You do want me.”
“Yes.” She did, she truly did.
Taking her hand, he pressed it to his trousers. “This is how badly I want you.”
He was thick and hard and bigger than she’d ever imagined. She swallowed the beginnings of alarm that rose in her throat. Determined to face her fears, she deliberately unbuttoned his trousers, then his drawers, and slid her hand inside to fondle him.
With a moan, he pushed into her hand. “God, yes, sweetheart. Touch me. Please.”
Please. How deliciously thrilling that she could make him beg! She rubbed and stroked him, reveling in the choked sounds he made, the way his breath quickened and his eyes slid shut. His skin was so silky, the flesh beneath it so firm.
She was enjoying arousing him when he brushed her hand away. “No more, my sweet, or I’ll embarrass myself. I can’t bear it any longer. I need to be inside you.”
“Yes.” She reminded herself that this was what she’d wanted, that this would make things better between them. So she forced a smile as he pushed up her skirts and slid between her legs. She could do this. She could.
But her body refused to listen. It clenched of its own accord, and when he braced his hands on either side of her, trapping her in, the panic took over and her heart began to pound and her vision to narrow until all she could see was Edwin’s taut jaw, vaguely like the Vile Seducer’s, and she couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see . . .
“No . . . no . . . no . . .” she began, scarcely aware of what she was saying.
“Clarissa,” he murmured soothingly, “sweetheart . . .”
Shoving against his chest, she bucked up against him, trying to throw him off her. “No . . . stop . . . stop . . . Stop, damn you!”
The last words were screamed into the forest.
He froze, his face ashen, and rolled off her to lie on the blanket panting as he stared up into the trees. That and the whimpers she couldn’t seem to quell were the only sounds other than the warbling of the stream.
After a few moments, he gave a shuddering breath. “Clarissa,” he said hoarsely. “You must tell me what’s wrong.”
She wanted to. But how could she say that she didn’t know if she would ever be right with this? “N-nothing’s wrong. I was just startled.”
He swore under his breath. “You were not startled. Don’t lie to me.” When she said nothing to that, he added, “I can’t do this anymore. Not like this. One minute you want me, and the next—”
When he choked off the words, she felt a different kind of panic. “Please don’t say that. Just give me a moment, and I’ll try . . . we can try—”
“God, no.” He didn’t look at her. “You were terrified. I could see it in your eyes.”
“Not of you.”
“There’s no one else here.” Dragging in a harsh breath, he seemed to struggle to speak. “My mother’s eyes looked like yours once, when I burst in while my father’s closest friend was trying to force himself on her. I still remember her crying, the fear on her face. I never want to see that on any woman’s face again, but especially not on my own wife’s. Not because of me, for certain.”
That took Clarissa completely aback. “Y-your mother was . . . assaulted?”
She was still reeling from that revelation when a servant thundered out from the woods.
“I heard a scream—” The footman stopped short as he spotted them lying there next to each other, rather obviously undressed. “Oh.” His cheeks turned crimson, and he swiftly turned his back to them. “Beg your pardon, my lord. I didn’t mean to . . . that is, I—”
“What are you doing here?” Edwin snapped. “Are you spying on us?”
“No, certainly not, my lord,” the man said hastily. “Your sister sent me to fetch you, so I was heading this way when I heard . . . Forgive me, I clearly misunderstood what you and her ladyship . . . that is . . .”
“It’s all right.” Edwin sat up and began to button his drawers and trousers. “Bloody, bloody hell. Yvette and Keane are back from America?”
“Yes, my lord,” the footman said. “Apparently, they heard about your marriage as soon as they arrived in London, and they came straight here.”
“Lord help us.” Clarissa, too, was already frantically trying to set her clothing to rights.
Edwin stood. “Go and tell them we’ll be right there.”
“Yes, my lord.” Without looking back, the servant left.
As soon as he was out of earshot, Edwin held out his hand to help her rise. She took it gratefully, but when she was standing and he tried to release it, she wouldn’t let him. Squeezing his hand tight in hers, she said, “I’m so sorry.”
“You have nothing to be sorry about.” It was hard to believe him, when he looked so remote and controlled. “But I want you to know that I won’t trouble you anymore by attempting to coax you into my bed.”
“Edwin—”
“I mean it. I realize now why you had me add that clause to the settlement. Because you really do need time to . . . adjust to me.” For a moment, his self-contained expression faltered. “Damn it, Clarissa, I wish you’d told me before . . . I wish I had understood . . .”
As if realizing how vulnerable he sounded, he stiffened. “It doesn’t matter. When you’re truly ready to consummate our marriage, however long that takes, you’ll have to be the one to initiate it, just as you requested from the beginning.”
“I am ready!”
“No, you’re not. Being willing to try relations isn’t the same as wanting them or being ready for them. And I won’t have you shrinking from me in fear because you can’t bear—” He broke off with a ragged breath as noises sounded beyond them in the woods. “Clearly we can’t have this discussion now. But until you’re prepared to talk about . . . why you shy away from me, I think you and I should not attempt this again.”
“Don’t say that,” she whispered.
“Admit it. You’re relieved that I said it.”
Oh, Lord, perhaps she was. But only a little.
“Edwin, where are you?” came a lilting voice from not too far off.
Drat it all. Yvette had found them.
A murmuring sounded as if the servant were speaking to her, and she said, “Don’t be silly—of course they want to see me.”
Edwin barely had time to snatch up his waistcoat and coat before Yvette came out of the woods saying, “Cook claimed you two were on a picnic,
but I couldn’t believe it. I had to see for . . .”
She trailed off as she caught sight of them in their disordered state. Her cheeks reddened. “Oh. It’s that sort of picnic.”
Edwin’s jaw looked hard enough to slice stone. “Don’t be vulgar, Yvette. We were napping, that’s all. And you woke us.”
“Napping! You? In the outdoors? That’s almost as unlikely as your having a picnic.” Yvette swung her gaze from him to Clarissa. “Is he telling the truth?”
“Of course.” Clarissa hoped she’d fixed her clothing enough not to give them away. “You know Edwin. He never lies.” And being forced to do so now must be mortifying him.
“In that case,” Yvette said, “I’m so glad to see you both!”
Edwin walked up to kiss his sister on the cheek. “As we are to see you. We didn’t expect you in the country until next week at the very earliest.”
“I got some news and made Jeremy come back sooner.” Placing her hand on her visibly protruding belly, she said, “I suppose you can tell what my news is.”
Only Clarissa noticed the quick flash of pain on Edwin’s face before he forced a smile for his sister’s benefit. “Congratulations. We’re very happy for you.” He turned to pull Clarissa forward to stand next to him. “Aren’t we, my dear?”
His words were so obviously insincere that it cut her to the heart. She’d wounded him deeply. She hadn’t even realized until now how much he’d been looking forward to having children.
Lord, she was making a complete mess of this marriage.
“Of course we’re happy for you,” Clarissa said, fighting back tears.
Yvette planted her hands on her hips. “I would have been happy for you two, if I’d had any inkling you were getting married. How could you not tell me?” She arched an eyebrow at Clarissa. “Especially you. I never expect Edwin to tell me things, but you should have said something.”
“It happened very quickly,” Clarissa said. “I don’t know if you remember what occurred when I took that trip to Bath last year, but—”
“We’ll explain it all when we’ve got your husband with us, too,” Edwin cut in. “No point in relating the whole tale twice. Shall we go?”
With a nod, Yvette started off, chattering about her and Jeremy’s trip to America.
It was all Clarissa could do to make the usual responses. She was painfully aware of Edwin walking stiffly at her side, not touching her, not looking at her.
She hadn’t intended to make him feel so awful. She had to fix this, to let him know it really had nothing to do with him. But that meant telling him the truth as soon as she could get him alone.
Did she dare? Or would it drive them farther apart? Given what he’d said about his mother, he might actually understand.
His mother—heavens. Clarissa had never guessed at any such tragedy in Lady Blakeborough’s past. She had to know more. Assuming he would tell her.
It was rather a shock that he’d even mentioned it to Clarissa. It drove a stake of guilt through her heart to think that he’d been so devastated by her reaction to him that he had let slip something so highly personal about his family. It wasn’t like him at all.
They emerged from the trees to see Jeremy striding toward them. “So there you are! I suppose Yvette has told you our news?”
“Of course,” Clarissa said brightly. “You know your wife—she’s deplorable at keeping secrets.”
“Unlike her brother, who never says a thing. I should have known he was cooking up a plan to win you.” Jeremy walked up to clap Edwin on the shoulder. “Not that I’m surprised, Blakeborough. The way you spoke of her a few months ago—”
“What?” Clarissa broke in. “How did he speak of me?”
Jeremy laughed. “As if you bedeviled him. And men are only ever bedeviled by women they fancy.”
“I beg your pardon,” Yvette retorted. “I bedevil him, and he certainly doesn’t fancy me.”
“You do not bedevil me,” Edwin said lightly, obviously trying to get into the spirit of their banter. “You worry me. It’s not the same.”
“Hmph,” Yvette said. “Does your wife not worry you, too?”
He slid a somber glance at Clarissa. “My wife worries me exceedingly. In truth, I don’t know how I shall survive marriage to her.”
“Nor do I.” Clarissa tried to sound teasing, though inside she bled. “But you’re stuck with me now, so you’ll have to make the best of it.”
“Well,” Yvette said, taking Clarissa by the arm. “I want to hear all about it. When did he offer marriage? How did he do it?”
“God help us,” Jeremy muttered. “Come, brother, I need something stiff to drink while those two reconstruct every moment of your courtship.”
As the four of them headed for the house, with the two men going ahead of them toward the study, a sinking feeling of despair overtook Clarissa. It was going to be very hard to make things right with her husband while his family was at Stoke Towers.
She could only hope the Keanes wouldn’t stay more than a day or two. Because the longer this rift stretched between her and Edwin, the harder it would be to mend it.
Eighteen
Edwin was glad of Keane’s suggestion of having a drink; that way he could fill his brother-in-law in on all the details of the Durand situation, including the parts he didn’t want his wife to hear.
But as they headed off to Edwin’s study, where they could enjoy brandy and cigars in peace, it wasn’t Durand that occupied Edwin’s thoughts. It was Clarissa.
The wall between them seemed to grow more impassable by the day. She pushed him away as often as she let him close.
Had he made a huge mistake in marrying her? God, he hoped not. Because with every day that passed, he liked having her about him more and more as a companion.
But he couldn’t bear the idea of a lifetime with a woman who couldn’t endure his touch. Who had to buck herself up just to share his bed.
Never had he felt so alone.
He and Keane entered the study. As they settled down to their cigars and brandy, he laid out the facts of the situation with Durand. The hardest part was telling Keane about the spying, but it wouldn’t be fair to let his sister and brother-in-law be taken by surprise if Durand went through with his threats and told the world about Father’s treasonous activities.
When he finished his explanations, Keane looked fit to be tied. “Blackmailed by a scoundrel like that? How dare he?”
“Durand has no shame. Or principles. Especially where gaining Clarissa is concerned.”
“Damn.”
“My sentiments exactly.” Edwin drew in a long breath. “You’ll have to decide if we should tell Yvette. I confess I have no idea what to do in that regard.”
“It would devastate her. I mean, she’s always felt unwanted by your father, but this . . .”
“It does explain why he was never around.” It didn’t entirely explain it, but Edwin wasn’t about to go into the details of his mother’s assault and the aftermath of it. He already regretted telling Clarissa so much. And not nearly enough.
“Perhaps knowing why your father was absent would make her feel better about it,” Keane said. “Though I doubt it. She wasn’t just hurt by that, but by the things he said, the way he treated your mother.”
“Which is why I’m trusting you to tell Yvette as much or as little as you deem wise. You know her better than I.”
“Only because you keep things from her.” Keane searched his face. “You would keep this from her, too, wouldn’t you, if you had the choice? Just to protect her from being hurt.”
“Yes. It’s my only way to make up for Father’s and Samuel’s lapses.”
“The trouble is, she interprets your discretion as a lack of faith in her ability to weather trials and tribulations. You think you’re protecting her, but you’re really building a wall between you and her.”
As he always did when Keane started talking about how he should treat his sister, Edwin withdrew into
formality. “As I said, you can be the judge of whether to tell her or not. Since you seem to know better than I on the subject.”
Apparently realizing how testy Edwin was getting, Keane said, “I didn’t mean—”
“If Durand never reveals it, then she need never know that her father was a traitor. But I can’t be sure he won’t. That’s why I’m telling you. So you won’t find yourself suddenly immersed in a scandal out of the blue.”
Keane nodded somberly. “Don’t worry about me and Yvette. I don’t give a damn about scandal, and she only worries about it for your sake. But if the two of you are in it together, she’ll stand by you and thumb her nose at the world.” He leaned back in his chair. “And you know me. I thumb my nose at the world as a matter of principle.”
“You’re an artist and an American. People expect that of you.” Edwin stared out the window. “They don’t expect it of me.”
“And Clarissa? How does she feel about all this?”
He gritted his teeth. “I haven’t told her.”
“What?”
“I told her he’s holding something over our heads, but I haven’t said what. I had to reveal that much just to get her to marry me.”
“I see.” Keane sipped some brandy. “In other words, Durand’s threats provided you with an excellent excuse for doing what you wanted in the first place.”
Edwin’s gaze shot to Keane. “What the devil does that mean? I did it for her benefit, not my own. I wasn’t going to leave her to that arse’s machinations.”
“Right. It had nothing to do with your desiring her, I’m sure.”
He glared at his friend. “Not everyone is as randy as you.”
“You don’t fool me.” The man chuckled. “Even an idiot could tell how you feel about Clarissa. In any case, it’s a good thing to desire one’s wife, isn’t it?”
“You have no idea,” Edwin muttered. He could never reveal the mortifying truth to Keane—that his desire for his wife was something she didn’t want. Not entirely. That he didn’t even know why she rebuffed him.
He wanted to believe that it had nothing to do with him, but he couldn’t. Because surely if someone else had hurt her, if all this was because of another man, she would tell him. And she had behaved very much like a virgin when he’d pleasured her with his mouth. It had startled her.
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