A Dangerous Man (15 page)

"Never say that again. Do you hear me?"

Leah couldn't speak, lest her shaking voice reveal her growing distress. Her lips tingled.

She pressed them together. She would not cry. She would
not disgrace herself more than she already had.

His dark eyes met hers. His features softened. "Leah, I am
sorry. I do not want to hurt you." His voice sounded odd, distant, as if ripped from his chest. "I will try to be a good husband to you, but more than that I cannot offer."

His hands dug into her shoulders. "Dammit, do not look at
me like that. You are young. You haven't yet learned. Love is
a myth, a fantasy, spun out by poets for romantic young girls."

Leah found her voice could pass the knot in her throat,
after all. "Please, do not belabor the point. You have made
yourself excruciatingly clear. Now, as we have nothing further to say, would you please leave?"

Something flashed in his eyes, something wild and dangerous, like the eyes of a tiger trapped in a cage. "I find there is
one other thing," he said, his voice low and dark, scraping
over her skin. "You will not entertain gentlemen callers in this
house again. Is that clear?"

He shoved himself off the bed. He did not wait for a reply.
He did not collect his clothing. He did not look at her again
as he stalked through the connecting door to his rooms.

Leah closed her eyes and curled up in a ball on her side.

So much for her dreams of love.

In the morning, he was gone. Called to Yorkshire on emergency estate business, according to a terse note propped on
her bedside table. He had signed it simply St. Austin.

That was it. Nothing more.

Such a cold note, so impersonal.

When had he slipped it into her rooms? How had she not
heard him? She would have sworn she'd slept not at all last
night, as his vehement words swirled through her mind.

Amazingly, she had not wept. Too numb perhaps.

Too shocked. Too filled with grief.

She had even managed to go about her duties this morning,
meeting with the housekeeper to review inventories of linen
and plate, with cook to plan the week's menus, with Harris to
arrange the refurbishing of her rooms. She'd arranged a delivery to Mrs. Bristoll's, taken tea out-of-doors with Alison, which
seemed to be a daily treat, and now she was back in her rooms,
writing a letter to her aunt. She longed for a visit, but she feared
Emma would see past her facade, which would cause her aunt
to worry.

The single candle on her writing table was not proof
against the clouds swiftly gathering across the sun. A sudden
gust of wind spattered rain across the windows and rattled the
shutters. Harsh, wild, and unpredictable, just like Richard.

Leah was glad he was gone. She did not want to see him.
She did not want to speak with him. And most of all, she did
not want him to touch her. For if he were here right now, she
very much doubted she'd be able to resist the powerful attraction that burned between them. Now she truly understood
what desire was.

How it could make her sister give herself to the man she
loved even without the bonds of matrimony. How it could
make Leah love a man, want a man, need a man, who thought
himself incapable of loving her back.

What had happened to make him so cynical? What had
caused the grim twist of his mouth? The despair that had
wracked his voice? The bleak starkness of his eyes that bespoke of so much pain? Had someone hurt him in the past?
Hurt him so fiercely, he'd closed off his heart, buried his needs
and his emotions, cast away hope, sworn never to love again?

At least, that's what he thought.

Leah thought differently. She loved him. She knew that as
surely as her heart beat within her breast, but she would not
burden him with the words. He was right. He hadn't really
wanted her, hadn't asked for her love. Her despicable father
had somehow gulled him into the match. Someday she would
learn exactly how her father had managed that. But not now.

Now she had to discover the means to bring her husband
back to life and heal his heart. She did not quite know how to
go about it, but she had no intention of losing this battle.

Richard slapped the road dust off his breeches as he headed
for the house. The hot sun burning the back of his neck was
nothing to the regret seizing his gut as a vision of Leah's soft
green eyes, amber flecks barely visible beneath glistening
tears, rose up yet again to haunt him as they had haunted him
every hour of every day that he was away. Or was it guilt
making his shoulders clench and his breathing hard and ineffective?

He had promised her civility, then he had trampled on her
feelings like a rabid bull. How she must hate him now, but not
nearly as much as he hated himself for hurting her so viciously.

As he reached for the handle, the door opened and Rachel
stepped into his path. "Thank heavens, you are back"

She wore a sweet smile and a flowing blue gown that
brought out the sparkle in her eyes. No one looking at this
picture of pretty femininity would ever guess the evil lurking
within.

Had she stood at the window every day for the past three
weeks, awaiting his arrival? Plotting how best to antagonize him?

Richard brushed past her and headed for the stairs. He
needed to seek out Leah. Not that he had any idea what he wanted to say, but he knew he needed to say something.
Anything.

"I must speak with you," Rachel said, following at his
heels. "You do not know what has happened here in your absence."

"I'm sure you will tell me all, and then some, but not now.
I'm tired and I am dirty. All I want right now is a hot bath and
a hot meal." And Leah, his treacherous mind added.

Rachel stepped into his path, her arms crossed over her
chest. "I fear I must insist on speaking with you now. If you
like, I could order your bath. Then we could have this conversation in your rooms"

Christ, next she'd be offering to strip off his breeches.

No doubt she would harangue him all the way up the stairs.
Short of physically restraining her, Richard had no way to
stop her. Nor could he trust himself to touch her. While he
had never caused a woman bodily harm-and he had no intention of doing so now-he feared the temptation might
prove too strong.

He turned and stalked to the library.

"You must do something about your wife," Rachel said as
she followed him into the room, her cheeks reddening as she
spoke. "She is turning the household upside down, wreaking
havoc-"

"Stop" Richard raised his hand. "I see you are in the mood
to play games, madam, but I am not. State your concerns,
quickly and clearly. Now, if you please."

Rachel thrust her chin in the air. "Very well. I wanted to be
as delicate as possible, but you leave me no choice. She does
not know how to go about in society and she will not heed my
advice."

"Perhaps she feels she does not need your advice." Richard
grabbed a bottle of whisky from the sideboard. He was tempted
to slug it straight from the bottle, just to shock Rachel into silence, but he poured a glass and took a civilized sip.

Rachel watched his every motion, as if she were memorizing the swing of his arm, the roll of his lips as he smoothed
the remaining liquid from his mouth.

"She does not understand about calling cards and paying
visits," she said, her voice slightly breathless, as if she'd just
waltzed across the room. "She sees anyone and everyone who
calls here. Especially that odious aunt of hers, and that young
man, Andrew, Alex, oh, whatever he calls himself."

Richard schooled his features into a mask of indifference,
but he could not quite hide the tension whitening his knuckles as he gripped his glass. Jealousy was a trait he had never
admired.

When had it settled so firmly within his breast?

"Surely you are not suggesting her aunt is unwelcome?"

Rachel inched her chin higher. "She says whatever she
thinks without regard to propriety."

"You make her sound like a Cheapside doxy."

"Must you be so crude? I like the child. Truly, I do. She is
a sweet little thing, but she is also willful and stubborn. She
brought a rodent into the house as a pet for Alison. A rodent,
I tell you! I won't have it. I banished it from the nursery. Then
I had to listen to Alison kick up a fuss"

Richard bit back his laughter, but said nothing.

It was far better to let the woman spend herself, like a thunderstorm. Then she would go away, at least for a few hours.

He was tired, his body aching from long hours in the saddle
and his never-ending desire for his wife.

I love you. Her sweet words came back to taunt him as they
had taunted him every moment of every day since she'd
moaned them at the height of her pleasure. He could still see
her eyes dark with desire, amber streaks gleaming in the firelight. He could still feel her body quivering beneath him, her
hands clinging to his hips, her legs wrapped around his waist
as her passage clutched his manhood, pulling him deeper and
closer to danger.

As the longest, most emotionally devastating climax he had
ever experienced shattered his senses, his reason, his control,
his true danger had come crashing into his consciousness.

He cared for her deeply, too deeply. She was touching emotions he did not wish to feel, resurrecting hopes and dreams
for a future for which he did not wish to yearn, nor did he
even believe possible. She was a threat to the careful control
upon which he'd rebuilt his life following Eric's death. To the
distance he kept from the world around him.

To the security of his hardened heart.

He could not allow that to happen. So he'd denied her
sweet words. In the most vicious manner imaginable. She was
so young, so trusting, so giving and hopeful. It was only natural for her to imagine herself in love with her husband, but
what did he do?

He'd chewed up her words and spit them back in her face.

God, he was such a bastard. How could he have been so
cruel? Couldn't he have found a better time, a better place to
destroy her dreams? The taste of shame did not sit well within
his mouth and no amount of whisky was going to wash it
away.

A spasm shot through his gut whenever he thought of her
beautiful face, first aglow with passion and hope for a future
he could never give her, then quickly transformed into shadows and pain as he'd disabused her sweet declaration.

I love you. How her words tormented him still.

Rachel planted her hands on her hips. "And she has undermined the staff, taken over the scheduling of servant duties
and menu planning without so much as a by-your-leave."

"Why does she need your permission?" Richard said,
thankful for the distraction from his torturous thoughts. He
hitched his hip on the desk. "After all, she is the mistress of
the house"

"But she doesn't understand the complexity of the task" Rachel waved her hand through the air. "Oh, I know she says
she has had tutors and such. . ."

Given all the trauma and heartache this woman had caused
through the years, Richard had never seen her so agitated, not
even when her husband had died, and over a domestic power
struggle of all things. He would have laughed, were it not so
predictably Rachel. "I begin to see the true problem. My wife
is taking her rightful place as mistress of the house, and you
do not like being relegated to the shelf."

"Oh, that is not it at all," she said, approaching him on soft,
dainty footfalls. Ever the lady, even in the midst of a fit of
pique. "I should have known you would somehow turn this
around to me and my motives. That is fine. She is ruining
your house, but since you do not care, who am Ito say anything."

She drew so close, he could smell the stench of her lilac
perfume, which threatened to make him retch.

He wanted to find Leah, to bury his nose in her rosescented hair, to wash away the filth and stain of his past in her
sweet, accepting innocence, to run his hands over the smooth
caps of her shoulders, the lift of her breasts, and beg her forgiveness.

Good Lord, where had that thought come from?

He rubbed his throbbing temples. "What exactly do you
mean by 'ruining the house'?"

"She is destroying the blue room. She is tearing down the
wall and opening it up to the conservatory. She has decreed
that from now on, all the family meals will be served there,
as if we are servants for her to order about"

"I fail to see the problem-"

"Do you not understand what I am saying to you? She is
tearing down walls and destroying rooms. She has totally demolished the duchess's bedchamber. After I spent so many
years making it perfect. It was my last link to Eric"

She touched her fingertips to the corners of her eyes.

Richard curled his hands as potent fury pulsed through his
veins. "How pretty you look with dainty tears clinging to your
sooty lashes. Why, if I didn't know better, I might even believe your pretense of love."

"I did love Eric," she cried, raising her hands as if to clutch
the lapels of his coat. His glare sent her hands back to her
waist. "But I made a mistake. One terrible mistake. Will you
punish me for the rest of my life?"

"For the rest of your life and beyond," Richard vowed,
crossing to the windows. He looked out over the gardens, half
expecting to see Leah and Alison strolling hand-in-hand, another image that had haunted his every waking hour while he
was away.

Alison deserved a mother who loved her, a mother who
would not use her daughter's life as a weapon to gain her way,
a mother like Leah. "You will never know a moment's peace,
even in death, as Eric never knew a moment's peace in life."

Rachel closed the distance between them, walking so close
her skirts touched his shins. "You are a cruel man to hate me
so, after all we meant to each other in the past"