The Stranger I Married

by Sylvia Day

  “Attached to me?” Gerard asked softly as wonder filled him. If this morning’s playful affection was any indication of what Pel was like when attached, he wanted more of it. All of it. Today was the best day of his life. What if all of his days could be like this one? “I’ve no intention of rebuffing her. I want her, Trenton. I intend to keep her happy.”

  “To the exclusion of all others? Nothing less will content her. For some unknown reason, she has odd delusions of love and fidelity in marriage. She certainly did not learn that in our family. From faery tales, perhaps, but not from a firm grounding in reality.”

  “No others,” Gerard said, distracted. He looked ahead, wishing he could see his wife from this vantage. As if she felt his silent demand for the sight of her, she appeared and waved, causing him to take an involuntary step toward her.

  “You are champing at the bit,” Trenton observed.

  “How should I win her heart?” Gerard asked. “With wine and roses? What do women consider romantic?”

  Wildflowers picked as afterthoughts and off-the-top-of-his-head poems had lured Em, but his goals were different now, more important. He could not leave this to chance. Everything for Isabel had to be perfect.

  “You are asking me?” Trenton’s eyes widened. “How the devil would I know? I’ve never in my life wanted a woman to fall in love with me. Damned inconvenient when they do.”

  Gerard frowned. Pel would know and he longed to ask her, just as he had always turned to her for advice and her opinions. But in this instance, he was quite definitely on his own. “I will puzzle it out.”

  “I am glad you appreciate her, Grayson. I often wondered what Pelham was looking for outside of wedlock when he had Isabel so smitten within it. He was a god to her in the beginning.”

  “He was an idiot. I am no god to Pel. She is well aware of all my shortcomings. If she can see past them, it will be a miracle.” He began walking and Trenton fell into step beside him.

  “I would think that to love a person in spite of their faults, rather than because you cannot see those faults, would be the deeper of the two attachments.”

  Considering that thought a moment, Gerard broke out in a grin. Which faded as they rounded a large tree and he saw Hargreaves speaking with Isabel. She laughed at something said to her, and the earl’s returning look was both open and fond. They stood together with an obvious familiarity.

  Inside him, something twisted and churned. His fists clenched. Then she saw him, and excused herself, moving toward him swiftly.

  “What delayed you?” she asked, taking his arm with blatant ownership.

  The writhing thing inside him quieted and he exhaled audibly. He wished he were alone with her, talking with her as they had last night when they’d returned to their rooms. Lying in bed with Pel curled to his side and their fingers linked over his chest, he had told her about Emily. Told her about what he had discovered about himself, and listened to her assurances and voice of reason.

  “You are not a bad man,” she had said. “Merely one who was young and in need of adoration after living with a mother who could do nothing but chastise you.”

  “You make it sound so simple.”

  “You are complicated, Gerard, but that does not mean it is not something simple that goads you.”

  “Such as?”

  “Such as saying farewell to Emily.”

  Puzzled, he asked, “How am I to do that?”

  She rose to hover above him, her eyes glowing with the reflection of the firelight. “In your heart. In person. In any way at all.”

  He shook his head.

  “You should. Perhaps during a long walk. Or you could write her a letter.”

  “Visit her grave?”

  “Yes.” Her smile took his breath away. “Whatever you need to do to say good-bye and set aside your guilt.”

  “Will you go with me?”

  “If you wish me to, of course I will.”

  In the space of an hour, she changed his self-loathing to self-awareness and acceptance. She made everything seem right, made every challenge bearable, made the completion of difficult tasks seem possible. He longed to provide the same for her, to be as valuable a partner to her as she was to him.

  “And you?” he asked. “Will you allow me to help you make peace with Pelham?”

  She lowered her cheek to his chest, her hair spilling over his shoulder and arm. “Anger at his memory has strengthened me for so long,” she said softly.

  “Strengthened you, Pel? Or your barriers?”

  Her sigh blew hot across his skin. “Why do you pry at me?”

  “You said this was enough, but it isn’t. I want all of you. I am not inclined to share parts of you with any man—dead or living.”

  Her breathing stilled until he almost shook her in alarm. Then she gasped and clung to him, her legs tightening around his, her hands clutching his shoulders. He embraced her just as fiercely in return.

  “You can hurt me,” she whispered. “Do you understand that?”

  “But I will not,” he vowed, his lips to her hair. “Eventually, you will come to believe that.”

  After a time, they drifted into sleep, the deepest slumber Gerard had known in many years, because he was no longer trudging through his day waiting for it to end. He had something to look forward to upon waking.

  “Isabel,” he said now, leading her a short distance away from the other guests. Ways to win her deeper affections sifted through his brain. “I should like very much to take you to my estate tomorrow.”

  She glanced aside at him from beneath her hat, the jaunty angle revealing the curve of her lips and not much more. “Gerard, you may take me anywhere.”

  The double entendre was not lost on him. It was a beautiful day, his marriage was on the mend, he had romance on his mind and in his heart. Nothing could steal his contentment. He was about to reply, his heart light at Pel’s teasing banter…

  “Grayson.”

  The crossly voiced intrusion could not have come at a worse time.

  Heaving out a disappointed breath, he turned reluctantly to face his mother. “Yes?”

  “You cannot continue to avoid the other guests. You must attend this afternoon’s treasure hunt.”

  “Certainly.”

  “And supper this evening.”

  “Of course.”

  “And the ride scheduled for tomorrow.”

  “My apologies, madam, but I cannot oblige you there,” he said smoothly, finding her overbearing tendencies lacking their usual irritating effect. Even his mother could not ruin his day. “I have the time reserved for Lady Grayson.”

  “Have you no shame?” the dowager snapped.

  “Scarcely any, no. I thought you knew that.”

  Isabel bit off a laugh and looked away quickly. He somehow managed to keep his face impassive.

  “What is so important that you would abandon your hosts again?”

  “We travel to Waverly Court tomorrow.”

  “Oh.” His mother frowned at him a moment, an expression so common to her countenance that lines permanently etched its passing. “I should like to go. I’ve not been there in many years.”

  Gerard was silent a moment, remembering suddenly that his parents had spent some time in residence there. “You are welcome to join us.”

  The smile she bestowed on him startled, the transformation of her features was so unnerving. But it disappeared as quickly as it came. “Now come join the rest of the party, Grayson, and behave yourself as is appropriate to your station.”

  Watching his mother walk away, he shook his head. “I hope you can disregard her gloom.”

  “I can with you at my side,” Isabel replied offhand, as if she were not saying something that completely rocked him to the core.

  He took a brief moment to catch his bearings, and then allowed his grin to break free.

  No doubt about it. Nothing could ruin his day.

  “Lady Hammond would have to pair us together,” Rhys mut
tered, moving rapidly up the wooded path.

  “The thought of hunting treasure with you made me giddy,” she teased. “I am dreadfully sorry if you do not feel the same about being with me.”

  The side glance he shot at her was so hot, her skin felt burned. “No. I would not call what I feel ‘giddy.’”

  The dead leaves along the trail crunched beneath every heavy step of his hessians. Dressed in dark green, he was stunningly handsome. Once again, she marveled that such a bold, masculine creature would find anything arousing about her, but it was clear the marquess did. And was very upset by that fact.

  “If I had any say in the matter,” he grumbled, “I would pull you into that clearing over there and lick you from head to toe.”

  Staring straight ahead, Abby had no idea what a woman was supposed to say in reply to such a statement. So she looked at the paper in her unsteady grip and said, “We need a smooth stone. There is a river around the bend up there.”

  “That dress you are wearing is distracting.”

  “Distracting?” It was one of her most flattering, a soft pink muslin with burgundy satin ribbon edging the low-cut bodice. She had selected it just for him, even though she hadn’t the bosom to make it truly fetching.

  “I know with a quick tug, your nipples will pop free and I can suck on them.”

  Her empty hand sheltered her racing heart. “Oh my. You are being very naughty.”

  He snorted. “Not as naughty as I would like to be. Pinning you to a tree and lifting your skirts would do nicely.”

  “Lifting my—” She stumbled to a halt as every cell in her body responded to the picture his words evoked. “It is the middle of the day.”

  Rhys, lost in his own thoughts, took several steps forward before realizing she remained behind. He turned to face her, his rich hair glinting in the filtered light of the overhead canopy. “Are your nipples different in the sunlight? Is your scent altered? Your skin less soft? Your cunt less tight and wet?”

  She shook her head rapidly, unable to speak.

  His gaze bore intensely into hers. “I have to depart in the morning, Abby. I cannot remain here and debauch you further. That I am trusted to be alone with you is like trusting the wolf to guard the lamb. It’s perverse.”

  Try as she might to keep her mother’s advice firmly in her mind, she could not do it. Her heart ached. She could only hope her exterior did not betray her.

  “I understand,” she said tonelessly, all her previous enjoyment in the day gone.

  Why did this man appeal to her so deeply?

  She had lain in her bed after leaving him and pondered that question for hours. In the end, she decided it was a combination of many things, some external, like his attractiveness and charm. And others internal, like his tendency to find new joy in her discoveries about how men and women related with one another. With him, she did not feel gauche. She was desirable, witty, and wise. Rhys thought it was “wonderful” that she enjoyed puzzling out scientific equations. He had even kissed the ink stains on her fingers as if they were a thing of beauty.

  He was known for his ennui and jaded views, but Rhys was only dormant, not dead. She longed to be the catalyst that revived him, but she knew his sense of duty to his title would never allow her to be.

  It would be best if he left.

  “It would be best if you left.”

  He stared at her for a long moment, unmoving, so when he lunged at her and grabbed her roughly, she was caught completely unawares. His hands in her hair, he kissed her with unrestrained passion, his thrusting tongue stealing her breath and her wits.

  “You make me forget myself,” he said harshly against her bruised lips. “To see you dismiss me so summarily drives me insane.”

  “Something has obviously driven you insane,” snapped a familiar female voice.

  Rhys groaned. “Bloody hell.”

  “Leave it to you, Trenton,” drawled Lord Grayson, “to ruin my day.”

  Chapter 17

  “I’ve no notion what to say to you, Rhys,” Isabel scolded, glaring up the narrow path at her brother.

  Gray leaned over and murmured, “I will see Hammond’s niece back to the manse so that you may speak with Trenton in private.”

  “Thank you.” Her eyes met his for a moment and she squeezed his hand in gratitude. She watched as he collected the obviously flustered girl and led her away. Then she rounded on Rhys. “Have you lost your mind?”

  “Yes. God, yes.” His countenance was gloomy as he kicked at a tree root that rose slightly above the dirt.

  “I know you were out of sorts when we left London, but to use that child as salve for your—”

  “That ‘child’ is the same age as your husband,” he pointed out dryly, making her gasp in horror.

  “Ooohhh…” She chewed her lower lip and began to pace.

  Lately, she often forgot about the age difference in her marriage. After she’d first wed Grayson, the gossips had salivated over her superior years, but she managed to ignore them. Now, however, she was most definitely entertaining a younger man in her bed.

  But she could not think of that now.

  “Do not dare make that comparison.” Her chin lifted. “Grayson is far more experienced in such matters, whereas it is quite obvious that Miss Abigail is not.”

  “It was almost effective in distracting you,” he muttered.

  “Ha!” She shook her head and then said more somberly, “Please tell me that you have not taken her to your bed, Rhys.”

  His shoulders drooped.

  “Dear God.” Isabel paused her pacing and stared at her brother as if he were a stranger. The Rhys she knew would have no interest in an innocent bluestocking. “How long has this been progressing?”

  “I first made her acquaintance at that blasted breakfast you forced me to attend.” He growled. “This is all your doing.”

  She blinked. Weeks. Not merely the last couple of days. “I am attempting to understand. Not to sympathize, mind you,” she added hastily. “But simply to comprehend it. I cannot.”

  “Do not ask me to enlighten you. All I know is that I cannot be within a few feet of her without my brain ceasing to function. I become some boorish rutting beast.”

  “Over Abigail Stewart?”

  The glare he shot her spoke volumes. “Yes, over Abigail. Damn it, why can no one see her worth? Her beauty?”

  Wide-eyed, she studied him in detail, noting the flush at the crest of his cheekbones and the brightness of his eyes. “Are you in love with her?”

  His look of astonishment would have been comical if she weren’t so disturbed. “I am in lust with her. I admire her. I enjoy talking with her. Is that love?” He shook his head. “I will be Sandforth eventually and must consider the dukedom before considering my own desires.”

  “Then what were you doing with her alone in the garden? This path is well-trodden. Any one of the other guests could have happened upon you. What of Hammond? What would you have said to him in return for abusing his hospitality and trust this way if he had been the one to discover you embracing?”

  “Damnation, Bella! I do not know. What more can I say? I erred.”

  “You erred?” Isabel blew out her breath. “Is that why you came? To be with her?”

  “I had no notion she would be here, I promise you that. I meant to distract myself from thoughts of her. Remember when we arrived? I had to ask you who she was.”

  “Are you expecting the girl to become your mistress?”

  “No! Never,” he said emphatically. “She is much like you—filled with dreams of romance and love in marriage. I’ve no wish to take that away from her.”

  “But you took the virginity meant for that great love?” She arched a brow. “Or was she not a virgin?”

  “Yes! Of course she was. I am her only lover.”

  Isabel said nothing. The notes of pride and possession in his tone were clear to both of them.

  Rhys groaned and rubbed the back of his neck. “I am
departing in the morning. The best thing I can do at this point is stay away.”

  “You never heed my advice, but I will share it with you anyway. Consider your feelings for Miss Abigail carefully. Having known both happiness and despair in my marriages, I strongly recommend you find a spouse you enjoy spending time with.”

  “You would have an American as the Duchess of Sandforth?” he asked incredulously.

  “Alter your thinking, Rhys. She is the granddaughter of an earl. And frankly, there must be something exceedingly extraordinary about her for you to lose your head as you have done. If you put your mind to it, I am certain you can help reveal that side of her to the world.”

  He shook his head. “Romantic nonsense, Bella.”

  “Certainly being practical in one’s choices is wise when the heart is not involved, but when it is, I think you should weigh those additional concerns carefully.”

  Frowning, he stared up the path in the direction Gray and Abigail had taken. “How furious was our pater when you selected Pelham?”

  “Nowhere near as furious as he was when I wed Grayson, but he adapted.” Stepping closer, Isabel set her hand on his shoulder. “I don’t know if you will find comfort in this, or pain, but it was quite clear to me that she adores you.”

  He winced and held out his arm to her. “I don’t know how I should feel about that either. Come. Let’s return to the house. I must set my valet to packing.”

  A depressive air hung about the Hammond party in the parlor that evening. Rhys lacked his customary charm and quick wit, and retired early. Abigail put on a brave face, and to the casual eye, one would find nothing amiss, but Isabel could see the strain that tightened the other woman’s mouth. Beside her on the settee, Lady Ansell was equally despondent, despite having won the treasure hunt earlier.

  “Your necklace is a lovely piece,” Isabel murmured, hoping to cheer the viscountess.

  “Thank you.”

  They had known each other casually for years, though after her recent marriage to the viscount, Lady Ansell had spent a great deal of her time traveling abroad with her husband. Not quite pretty, the viscountess nevertheless was a handsome woman, tall and proud in bearing. It was clear to many that her match with Ansell was a love match, which gave the woman a sparkle to her eyes that more than made up for her lack of classical beauty. Tonight, however, that sparkle was missing.