A Dangerous Man (16 page)

"The past died eight years ago-"

"The past will never die."

"-on the day you married my brother."

"You know why I did that," Rachel said, her voice shrill,
desperate. She clutched his arm. "My parents forced me ""

Richard peeled her fingers off his sleeve. He twisted his
lips in a thin, cruel smile. "My, what an accomplished liar you
are. Why, I even begin to think you believe your own words.
You married Eric for one reason only. You thought you could
have your stud and your coronet, too. Unfortunately, you were
wrong"

"That is not true. I loved you, then. I-"

"Do not say it." Richard towered over her, his breath harsh
in his throat. "Or I swear, I will throttle you"

He turned toward the desk. He heard her walk up behind him. He wished she would go away. But he knew it was
impossible. He might haunt her through eternity, but she
would haunt him, too.

They were partners in their misery.

"Although you don't believe me," she said, coming to stand
beside him. "I did love you with all my heart. But I grew to
love Eric after I wed him. He was such a kind and gentle man.
Who could help but love him?"

Richard turned to face her. "Save your lies for your friends.
The past is not the issue here. Your sensibilities are twisted
about because my wife is taking her rightful position as mistress of this household. As you find your situation here so intolerable, I repeat my previous offers to provide you with an
establishment of your own and a comfortable maintenance.
You shall never want for anything."

"This is my home. Why would I want to leave it?"

"For one thing, you would be free of my presence. As I am
so odious and cruel and disrespectful of your tender feelings,
that should be reason enough"

"Hardly." Rachel crossed her arms over her chest. "I have
learned to tolerate your animosity. I rarely, if ever, notice anymore that you are an ill-bred, ill-mannered lout."

"If you cannot accept your new status here, a move would
be the best solution for all of us"

Her blue eyes narrowed as she contemplated his words.
Then she smiled, a cold, calculated twisting of her lips. "Of
course, I shall do what you think best. But if I leave, I take
Alison."

Richard yanked a leather-bound volume off the nearest
shelf. It was either that, or strangle the woman where she
stood. He did not reply. It was an old argument, one he'd
heard hundreds of times. He was ashamed to admit, even if
only to himself, that he was finding it harder to fight the
temptation to let the scandal fly, to let the resulting fragments fall where they may, but sanity always returned, along with
the pain.

He would never allow a hint of scandal to swirl around
Alison, or tarnish the memory of his brother's name.

Even if it meant he would never be free of Rachel.

"Were you to attempt to take her from me," Rachel was
saying, "I would certainly weep to my dearest friends how
abominable you were to deny me the comfort of my daughter's presence ... not to mention why you felt obliged to do
so. I know you do not want that to happen. How else could
you explain taking her from her loving mother."

"Loving mother? The cruelest jest of the century." He
dropped his book on the desk, the thud echoing through the
chamber. "You do not care if Alison lives or dies."

Rachel shot her hand through the air.

Richard grabbed her wrist, twisted it away. He lowered
his face until they were nose to nose. "Alison does not leave
this house. If you ever attempt to remove her, I will hunt you
down like the bitch you are. There is no place you could hide
that would be safe from my vengeance"

Rachel slid her free hand along his stubbled jaw.

"You would never hurt me," she whispered, then pushed up
on her toes, her eyes closing, her lips parting breathlessly.

"Do it," he said through his teeth, "and I will kill you"

Rachel hesitated a moment, her eyes meeting his, widening beneath the menace in his gaze. She dropped her hand,
backed away, but she did not leave. She simply stared at him.

Her breathing grew shallow. Her chest rose and fell, as if
she could not quite catch her breath.

Slowly, she flicked her tongue over her lips.

In his youthful ignorance, Richard would have found her
display erotic, enticing. Now what clenched his jaw and hardened his hands into fists was the depths of folly that had
caused him to fall so deeply under this woman's spell. He had
been so young, so deeply in love. He sneered at the memory. He could almost hear the water as it had bubbled over the
rocks below the cliffs on the day he'd lost his idealistic innocence, when he'd learned love was nothing but lust wrapped
in a pretty disguise.

The dizzying scent of wildflowers and heated skin had
drugged his mind as he'd eased Rachel onto her back. The
wild beating of her pulse beneath the softness of her skin had
burned through his blood as he'd pushed her gown up her legs
until her mound of honeysuckle hair gleamed against the
darkness of the blanket, forbidden fruit, forbidden no more.

His first taste of passion. Through his years at university,
he had never been able to casually bed another, not when his
heart had been pledged to Rachel for years. Instinct had guided
him to her entrance, or perhaps it was Rachel's grasping hand.
Never once had he noticed her lack of pain, her lack of shock,
her lack of innocence as he'd given himself to her. At the last
possible moment, he had withdrawn. He would not leave her
with a babe in her belly, not before they could wed. Three
weeks later, she had married his brother and Richard went off
to fight the French, all the while hoping to die.

He'd gone home only once, just after Waterloo, but he'd
soon discovered there was a place worse than hell for sinners like him. Now he would never escape.

The memory of this particular betrayal had long since lost
the power to hurt him. No, what galled him now was how
easily and completely he had fallen for her lies.

His hands itched with the urge to smash his knuckles into
the wall. Instead, he rubbed his fingers over his face as he
paced to the windows. How artfully she had drawn him in,
ensnared him more thoroughly than the fangs of a man trap,
drawing him into her body with pledges of undying love and
devotion.

Never could Richard have imagined such deceit.

He looked out over the gardens, but his mind dragged up
an image of Rachel as she'd stood before him on the cliff face, backlit by a slate gray sky, mist blowing up from the
churning sea. Hands raised, begging him to understand, her
blue eyes as turbulent as the gathering clouds and brimming
with tears, vowing her love, even as she confessed she was to
marry Eric his brother!-but nothing need change between
them.

As if he would bed his brother's wife.

Rachel watched him silently, staring at him through seductively half-opened eyes, as if she thought passion would overwhelm him and he would drag her into his arms.

Did she honestly believe he would ever touch her again?

He stalked past her and out the door. He blamed his folly
on youthful ignorance and indiscretion, lust run rampant with
no control. He could not so easily excuse the lies and betrayals that came later, that destroyed everyone he loved.

As he passed the blue room, he decided to see what changes
Leah had made. The last thing he expected to see was his wife
hanging in the air on a ladder propped against the wall, fiddling with the draperies. "What are you doing up there?"

His bellow echoed off the windows. Leah shrieked. Her
hands flew up in the air as she teetered on the edge of her
step.

Heart pumping, Richard lunged and caught her in his arms.

She clutched his neck, her arms tangling around his shoulders, her fingers threading through his hair.

His body clenched and tightened. He fixed her with a stony
stare. "What were you doing on that ladder?"

Her bewitching eyes met his, and he lost himself in their
deep green depths, their dusting of gold mesmerizing him as
swiftly as any sorcerer's spell.

"I missed you," she said, her voice a soft whisper, her
warm breath fluttering over his cheeks. Her lips curved into
a gentle smile. Her golden hair framed her face, her eyes reflecting the afternoon light, making them sparkle, a ray of
sunshine in his desolate world. "I am happy you're home"

He searched her face for some trace of deceit. After the way
he left, she should be hurling pottery at his head, but all he saw
reflected in her smile was happiness and love shining in her
eyes. He stomped on the tender emotions bubbling to life
within him, forced a sternness into his voice that belied the
desire and lust and need curling within his gut, tightening his
muscles and tendons and groin. He would not fall for her spell.

Yet the dam around his heart cracked. Feelings he'd denied
for years surged through his blood. Do not be a fool, the bitter
man inside his mind screamed. Leave this house. Leave this
woman. Grab Alison and Geoffrey and never look back.

But like a man possessed, he eased her down the length of his
body, slid his arms around her waist. "Leah," he groaned, pushing his hands into her hair and covering her mouth with his.

Leah felt his desperation and clung to him just as fiercely,
her fingers digging into the soft wool of his jacket.

Her breasts were crushed against his chest, but she couldn't
get close enough. What demons tormented this man? What
anguish drove his despair? If only he would let her into his
heart, she would wash away his past. She supposed she could
be churlish and childish and punish him for his harsh words,
but she could not dredge up the energy. She hurt for the man
he used to be, before betrayal caused him to close off his
heart, leaving him emotionally dead, needing no one save
himself. His was a lonely life, full of responsibility, to family,
to tenants, to needy souls dependent upon his charity, but
without tenderness or love.

Hers was a deceptively simple plan. She would show him
her love with every breath, every touch, every deed, but she
would not burden him with the words. Those she would keep
wrapped within her heart. Only when he loved her as much
as she loved him, would she say them again.

She ran her hands over his back, feeling the powerful muscles bunching beneath his shoulders, the desire curling up
within her, tightening her belly, clenching her thighs, building an ache within her deepest, most intimate flesh.

The scent of leather and male and hot skin bronzed beneath
the sun filled her senses as he pressed her back against the
wall and slid one powerful leg between her thighs. The hard
evidence of his desire ground against her hips. She pulled
him closer, wanting to feel him, needing to feel him.

His clothing was wilted, his hair streaked with road dust,
but never had he looked more handsome. He pressed her back
against the wall, then dropped to his knees. His hot breath
whooshed through her cotton gown. Desire licked through
Leah, setting her senses afire, her body tingling and aching
for his touch.

Air rushed in and out of her chest so swiftly, and still she
felt breathless as his hands roamed down her sides, down her
legs, under her dress. She tangled her fingers in his hair and
closed her eyes, but she wanted to kiss him.

She cradled his face between her palms, drew him to his
feet, and brought his lips back to hers. She moved her tongue
along his teeth, his mouth, hot and greedy beneath her gentle
probing, and it was as if her touch set off a terrible storm.

His hands roamed over her breasts, making them tingle and
ache. His lips followed the path of his hands, mouthing a wet,
hot, erotic path over the mounds of skin rising above her
stays, his tongue delving between her cleavage, fingers slipping beneath the fabric, rubbing her nipples.

She moaned, or perhaps it was him, she did not know as
she clutched fistfuls of his coat. He dragged the cradle of her
hips into close contact with his swollen flesh, hard beneath
his form-fitting breeches, letting her know he wanted her as
much as she wanted him. It was enough. For now.

He might not love her, but in this they were equals.

This desperate need, this undeniable, unquenchable ache.

In some small part of her brain that still functioned, Leah
heard Rachel's voice, somewhere in the distance, somewhere
out in the hall, growing louder and closer. Richard dragged
his lips from hers. He stared into her eyes, his own gaze, dark and stormy and filled with need, before possessing her lips
once more in a demanding kiss that banished thought and
reason.

They separated, then came back together, as if neither could
bear to part from the other. Tongues touching and stroking.
Delving and tasting. Legs tangling, fingers searching, until it
was all she could do not to beg him to drag her to bed.

Finally, he propped one elbow on the wall behind her head,
but he made no move to put a decorous distance between
them.

His bottomless eyes searched her features, then he smiled,
a devil-may-care grin. "So, you missed me? I thought perhaps
you meant to use the hammer sitting atop that ladder on my
head"

"No doubt you deserve it," she said. "But you seduced the
notion right out of me, clever, wicked man that you are"

He laughed, the sound deep and resonant and tingling
along her nerve endings like chocolate over her tongue. And
there, the awkwardness of their last parting buried in humor
and lightness.

Her throat ached with her pent-up emotions and the words
she longed to say, but she would not regale him with her
needs or demand from him that which he was not yet willing,
or able, to give. At least not for the moment. She was patient.
She would wait.

He stepped back, just as Alison charged through the door.