Michael stood near the fireplace when she entered, his hands tucked into his pockets, his golden brows knit in an anxious frown. The expression cleared the moment he saw her, a tentative smile curving his mouth. “Mallory.”
“Michael.” She stopped, her hands linked before her. “What are you doing here? I was not expecting you.”
As she waited for his response, she couldn’t help but notice the hint of yellowish discolouration that was still visible near one of his eyes—the last remnants of his fist-fight with Adam.
His frown returned. “I suppose I ought to have sent word, but given what happened last time, I decided I would save both of us the trouble of attempting to exchange letters.”
“Even so, why have you come?”
He strolled closer. “I had heard—that is I had to know if the rumours are true.”
“And what rumours might those be?”
“That you’re living here at Braebourne again,” he said, unable to disguise the hopeful edge to his voice. “That you’ve left Gresham?”
She fought the urge to sigh. So rumours were swirling already, were they? She supposed she shouldn’t be surprised knowing the Ton’s insatiable appetite for gossip. Nevertheless, what with the start of the Season more than a month away and most people still in residence at their country estates, she’d hoped her marital difficulties would not yet be widely known.
Apparently she’d been wrong.
“I am staying here for the present,” she said, reluctant to admit that she’d left Adam, even if that’s exactly what she’d done.
“The moment I heard you’d left, I had to see you,” he said, clearly taking her words as agreement. “I had to know if there could still be something between us. We were interrupted when I asked you before, as you may recall.”
“Interrupted or not, my answer remains the same.”
“Which is?”
“Michael, I am married. We can be nothing to each other anymore. Surely you must see that.”
His jaw tightened. “I don’t, and I refuse to believe you no longer care for me. You loved me once, Mallory. I know you did.”
Her heart constricted beneath her breasts. “Yes, I did—”
“Then come away with me as I asked you once before,” he said in an eager rush. “Just because Gresham trapped you into marriage doesn’t mean you have to be miserable the rest of your life. Let me take you away. Let me make you happy.”
“But I’m not unhappy.”
Or at least she hadn’t been until Michael had come back into her life and caused this rift between her and Adam. And yet in some ways, she realized, Michael had always stood between them. His ghost a divide that had been nearly as powerful as his living presence.
No wonder Adam was so jealous.
As for his other accusation, that Adam had trapped her, tricked her into marrying him, she knew now that was untrue as well. Perhaps she’d felt compelled to wed him, and yet, as she considered the circumstances and her feelings at the time, she knew the truth.
“You’re wrong,” she murmured, as the knowledge fully dawned upon her. “Adam may have compromised me, but I married him because that was my wish. I married him because I love him, even if I didn’t have the sense then to realize that I did. I think I’ve always loved him.”
Michael’s eyes narrowed. “What are you saying? That you wanted him even when you were with me?”
She read the betrayal in his expression, a wrenching sorrow rippling through her veins. “I loved you, Michael. Truly I did, and I would have made you a good and faithful wife, but—”
“But?” he repeated gravely.
“But I love him more. I’m sorry, since I never meant to hurt you. Please believe that I shall always care for you deeply, but only as a friend. Adam is the man I love. Adam is my life.”
And I left him.
God, what have I done?
Sudden desolation filled Michael’s eyes, turning them the colour of storm clouds. “You’re all I thought about, all I dreamed of when I was rotting in that French hell of a prison. Did you know that? Did you know that thoughts of coming home to you, of marrying you, were all that kept me going? That I knew if I could just see you again, all my suffering would be worth it?”
She made a gasping sound and pressed her hands to her stomach. “Michael, don’t.”
“Now you tell me it was all just a sham, that you loved Gresham instead?”
“No, I did love you. You don’t understand.”
“I think I understand just fine. If you’ve fallen out of love with me, you can fall back again. You just have to try. You just have to be given a good enough reason.” Before she could stop him, he seized her arms and pulled her against his chest. “You’ll love me again. I’ll make you.”
He took her mouth, kissing her with all the passion and desperation pent up inside him. Rather than struggle, she gave him his moment, letting him use all his talents on her. He was skilled at kissing, his lips moving over hers with a confident finesse that would have made most women swoon with rapture.
Yet his finest moves and most seductive touches did nothing to speed her pulse or rouse her desires. He wasn’t Adam, and all she could think of was the fact that she wished he were.
Abruptly, he pulled away, a mask of sadness settling across his features. “It isn’t any good, is it?” he said, low and despairing. “There’s no spark. Not for you at least.”
A tear slid down her cheek.
He wiped the wetness from her skin. Resigned, he stepped back, stepped away. “No wonder he fought like a demon for you. Whatever difficulty is between you, don’t let it stand in your way. If your estrangement is because of me, tell him he has no further need to worry.”
Executing a correct bow, he started toward the door.
“Michael, will you be all right?” She crossed her arms at her waist.
His eyes took on a flint-hard glint. “Don’t worry about me. I came back from the dead, after all. I’m sure I can survive something as simple as a broken heart.”
“I never meant to hurt you.”
“Nor I you. Be happy, Mallory.”
Before she could say more, he turned and strode from the room.
Listening to the silence, she knew he was gone.
Trembling, she wiped the tears from her face, then made her way up the stairs.
CHAPTER 28
“I’ve brought your dinner, your lordship,” Mrs Daylily announced as she made her way into Adam’s darkened study the following evening. “I’ll set the tray up over here near the fire, shall I, so you’ll be comfortable while you enjoy your meal.”
Adam made no effort to move from where he sat behind his desk, the area swathed in a pool of heavy shadow. “I told you I didn’t want dinner. Take it away.”
The housekeeper hesitated, clearly marshalling her courage before she continued. “But you’ve got to eat, my lord. You’ve barely touched anything in days. Cook made all your favourites tonight. Beef pie, cheddar potatoes, and carrots with fresh dill and new-churned butter. There’s even a delicious apple tart with clotted cream. I had a dish of it myself at staff dinner before I brought up your tray. It’s quite excellent.”
“Then enjoy another helping because I don’t want any.”
“But your lordship—”
“Enough! Leave me be.”
The servant straightened, then gave a resigned sigh. “Very well. I’ll just light a few candles then before I go. The room is so dark.”
“No. I like it dark.”
Dark as the misery in my heart, he thought. Black as the depth of my despair.
Abiding by his wishes in spite of her obvious disapproval, the housekeeper retreated from the room.
Once she’d gone, he slouched lower in his chair.
Mrs Daylily meant well, he knew, just as he realized all the staff meant well, the lot of them whispering and tiptoeing around him as if there had been a death in the house. And he supposed in a way there had been, Mallory’
s absence casting a pall over everything, as if the sun had gone from the sky.
The light had certainly gone from his life, the present darkness an apt reflection of his mood. Ever since he’d realized Mallory was never coming back, he’d been sunk into a state of absolute desolation. He barely slept and had no appetite for food. As for all his grand plans for the estate, he couldn’t seem to muster any enthusiasm. He’d taken to passing all the work off to his steward, letting the other man handle the responsibilities that he just couldn’t seem to face.
He’d considered drowning his sorrows in the bottom of a liquor bottle, getting so roaring drunk that he would barely know who he was anymore. But that had been his father’s solution—smothering his problems in a selfish and self-destructive world of debauchery and shame. He’d tried that once himself all those years ago after Delia’s death and knew firsthand that it wouldn’t make the pain go away. Nor would it do anything to bring Mallory back.
Each day he thought about driving to Braebourne and doing whatever it took to bring her home. He’d even be willing to beg, if that was the only way to convince her. But what if she still said no? He didn’t quite trust himself not to do something insane, like kidnapping her. And as she’d told him already, he couldn’t keep her locked away—not forever at least. If she didn’t love him enough to willingly be his wife, there was nothing he could do to make her.
And so he sat in the house, sunk in misery. He supposed he would have to get on with living again one of these times soon, but for now, he simply couldn’t muster the will.
Picking up the gold locket he’d found upstairs on her dressing table—the one he’d given her for Christmas—he ran his thumb over the engraving.
Mallory.
A hollow ache swelled beneath his ribs, the smooth metal biting into his skin as he squeezed the necklace hard inside his palm. Closing his eyes, he leaned his head back against the chair and wished for oblivion.
He didn’t know how many minutes passed before he heard the door open, sensing someone enter the room. “I said I don’t want to be disturbed,” he said without opening his eyes. “Whoever it is, go the hell away!”
“I see you haven’t lost your predilection for cursing while I’ve been gone although under the circumstances I suppose I can forgive the lapse.”
His eyes flashed open. “Mallory?”
She can’t be here, he thought, wondering if she was some figment of his imagination. Maybe in his despair, he was beginning to lose his mind. But then she walked farther inside the room, her beloved features swimming into view in the murky light.
“It’s dark as a tomb in here,” she observed. “I’ll light a few tapers, shall I?”
He didn’t gainsay her but instead abruptly sat up in his chair. As he did, the locket fell from his hand onto the desk. While she moved around the room tending to the candles, he strove to rectify his dishevelled appearance, raking his fingers through his hair, reaching up to straighten his cravat before he remembered he hadn’t bothered to put one on that morning.
Well, he would have to do, he decided—unshaven jaw, uncombed hair and all. He ought to stand as decorum prescribed, but he didn’t quite trust his legs at the moment.
Watching as she turned to face him once more, he noticed the way the increased light played off her emerald traveling gown, the colour a perfect foil for her silky raven hair and delicate, translucent skin. Her lips were red from the cold outside, her blue-green eyes bright with a wealth of emotions he couldn’t entirely fathom.
“Heavens, Adam. You look dreadful,” she said, as if only then seeing him properly. “Before I came in here, Mrs Daylily mentioned something about trying to get you to eat dinner. Have you been skipping meals?”
“Mrs Daylily is an old mother hen who should mind her own business,” he retorted, not at all interested in discussing their housekeeper or his recent lack of appetite. “Why have you come, Mallory? I presume one of your brothers brought you.”
“No, I travelled alone.”
“Alone! Has Ned lost his senses—”
“I was accompanied by two footmen, the coachman, and my maid. I was never in any jeopardy.”
He scowled. “Servants or not, you shouldn’t have been on the road by yourself, nor should Ned have allowed you to be. Why did you not send word? Why did you not write asking me to come to you?”
She moved closer. “I wasn’t entirely sure you would agree, considering I’ve heard nothing from you since I left. Then too, I didn’t want to wait.”
His pulse began to beat in thick, hard strokes. “Wait for what?” he blurted. “What is it that was suddenly so urgent?”
“Michael came to see me yesterday,” she said.
His stomach lurched, a burning sensation lodging behind his breastbone and the underside of his jaw. Is that why she’s come back? To tell me she’s running off with my rival? It would be like Mallory to do the decent thing and tell him in person. She would consider a letter far too impersonal a way to end a marriage. Well, impersonal or not, he didn’t want to receive her good-bye.
He wanted to shout at her to be silent.
He wanted to drag her into his arms and kiss her until she changed her mind.
He wanted to lock her up and never let her free.
Instead, he forced himself to sit, only the fists he clenched around the arms of his chair betraying his true feelings.
“What did the major want then? Although I suppose I don’t really need to ask, do I?” he added, unable to keep the bitterness from creeping into his tone.
Visibly gathering herself, she took another few steps forward. “He wanted to know if there was anything still between him and me. He wanted to know if I still loved him.”
He stared blindly at the papers on his desk. “And what did you say?”
She glided even closer, moving so she stood less than a foot distant. “I said that I would always care for him—”
A wrenching stab of agony went through his chest as if she’d leaned over and yanked out his heart. He closed his eyes, his breath growing thin in his lungs.
“—But that there is only one man I truly love,” she continued in a tender murmur. “And that man is you.”
His eyelids flew open, his thoughts spinning wildly around his brain. Now he knew for certain that he was dreaming. Now he realized he really had lost his mind. Yet there she stood, undeniable love shining vivid as a sea in her eyes.
“I know you think you have reason to mistrust me, but you don’t,” she said. “I know you’ve been jealous of Michael, but I understand now why that is. You believe I was forced into our marriage, that I didn’t choose you with a free and open heart. But you’re wrong, Adam. I did want to marry you.”
“You were compromised and even then you needed convincing,” he said, only then fully realizing how much doubt he’d been harbouring because of the circumstances of their union.
“Only because I was scared, frightened of losing my heart again after so much grief. I loved Michael, but I think deep down I knew I loved you more. That I’ve always loved you, since I was a girl.”
His brows drew low. “What do you mean?”
“I loved you when I was a girl, but you made it clear you didn’t want me, and so I put you aside, locked my love for you in a little corner of my heart that was never to be touched again. I settled for friendship, and I told myself it was enough. I let myself love Michael, and I did truly love him. But I’ve come to understand that I loved you first. I love you best, and even if we were not already wed, I would want to be your wife and no one else’s. I would want to spend the rest of my life loving you and being by your side.
“Adam, I’m so sorry,” she said, crossing the last bit of space between them. “I know now that I should never have left. I should have stayed and fought for our marriage. Please forgive me. Please tell me you’ll take me back.”
His lips parted, his heart kicking so hard it was painful. “Take you back? Of course I’ll take you back. And if
anyone needs forgiveness, it’s me,” he said, his voice breaking. “I should never have let you go.”
Reaching out, he pulled her to him and buried his face against her breasts, breathing in her honeyed scent, luxuriating in her feminine softness.
Her fingers came up and slid into his hair to caress his head, her touch sending quivers chasing down his spine.
“What about my keeping his letter from you?” he questioned after a minute. “What about violating your trust?”
She met his gaze. “Being with you means more. Being with you means everything. And I’ll teach you to trust me by proving my love, my fidelity, all the rest of my days. Besides, if you can forgive me for leaving you, then I suppose I can forgive you for being crazy with jealousy over me.”
“I was crazy,” he confessed. “I would have done anything to keep you with me. I would do anything even now.”
“But don’t you see, my love, that you don’t have to?” She slid her hands down to cup his cheeks. “I’m yours. I want no other, and I never will.”
With a sound that was half groan, half growl, he yanked her down onto his lap and crushed her lips to his. In that moment, the world that had been so dark turned light again, his spirit sprouting wings like those of angels, as his heart began to soar. Arching her close—as close as he could get to her with their clothes still on—he ravished her mouth, pouring all his longing, all of his love into their embrace.
As for Mallory, she revelled in his possession, her heart brimming as she kissed him back with every ounce of passion and adoration she could devise. In his arms there was no hesitation, inside his touch there was only love and need. The spark that had eluded her with Michael’s kiss burst forth in a fiery gust of warmth and desire, leaving her incapable of thinking about anything or anyone but Adam.
This, she knew, was where she belonged.
This love was the only one she would ever want or need.
Closing her eyes, she gave herself over to the moment, kissing him to the point of distraction.
Wicked Delights Of A Bridal Bed Page 31