A Dangerous Man (34 page)

It seemed a simple enough decision, but Richard greatly
feared it would be easier by far to chop off his own hand than
to put words to his deepest shame.

Soft footsteps pattered the stone floor behind him. The
scent of lavender water filled the air. He crushed a fistful of
orchid petals as Rachel moved around the table, stopping
only when her shoes touched the tip of his boots. He would
never know a moment's peace. Not with this she-devil living
under his roof. The instrument of God's vengeance. The
price of his sins.

He cursed violently under his breath. He had to get away
before he succumbed to his baser instincts and murdered her
where she stood.

Leah went to the library first, where Richard spent many an
hour poring over ledgers and documents. The room was empty, so she went to his study, the steward's room, the estate
offices, and even the stables, where she got caught in a sudden
gust of wind and rain. All the while, she rehearsed the words
she would use. Richard, we are going to have a babe. Richard,
I am with child. Richard, you are going to be a father.

None seemed adequate to express the thrill of the moment.
How would he react? Would he whoop with joy? Take her
into his arms with infinite tenderness? Stare at her in shocked
silence?

Once back in the great hall, she met the butler, standing
sentry at the door. "Have you seen the duke?"

The servant gave a stiff bow. "I believe he is in the conservatory, Your Grace"

"Thank you, Harris," Leah said, her smile so wide, she no
doubt appeared a bit demented, especially with her damp hair
curling wildly about her flushed cheeks. She did not care. She
was too happy. As she set off down the corridor, she buried
the niggling fear that Richard might not be pleased. After all,
every man wanted a child to carry on his name. And a man
like Richard most of all, with houses and titles and estates.

At the conservatory door, she paused to calm her rattled
nerves. Through the shrubbery she could see Richard's coat,
green kerseymere hugging his broad back, black pantaloons
sheathing his legs. Standing before him was Rachel, her gown
a peach gossamer silk elegant enough to appear before the
king. Rachel's eyes were wide, luminous blue, and shining on
Richard's face with a look of utter adoration.

Leah's breath coalesced in her throat until she felt as if she
were choking. The rain pounding on the roof drowned out any
words they were saying, but there was no mistaking the charged
tension shimmering between Richard and Rachel, the almost
sexual energy hanging in the sultry, humid air.

Before she could approach them, Richard strode away and
stalked through the door that led into the gardens. Rain swirled in through the entry, snapping over the stone floor
until the howling wind slammed the door.

Leah stood motionless, frozen in place by the stunning suspicions forming in her mind. Then her feet were moving,
drawing her closer to the woman who had made her life miserable from the moment she'd entered this house.

"You are in love with my husband," she said, amazed her
voice sounded so steady, so calm and assured, when she was
a quivering mess inside. She thought of her babe and she
drew a deep breath to quiet her spiraling pulse.

Rachel's brows lifted, her lips pursed, not in puzzlement or
surprise, but more a satisfied smirk. "Of course. And he is
in love with me"

It was a lie and Leah would not respond to it. "I want you
to leave my house. You may make your own arrangements or
I will make them for you, but you will leave. Today."

"You poor, pathetic child." Rachel shook her head. "You do
not understand. I suppose you have spun dreams of happilyever-after and years to come. The problem with dream worlds,
Leah, is that, sooner or later, they come tumbling down around
one's ears. It is me he loves. You are simply a means to an end"

"You are the one spinning dreams," Leah said, with more
conviction than she felt. "Richard loathes you"

Rachel laughed, a soft, delicate sound. Ever the lady, even
when shredding her enemies. "Oh, did he tell you that?"

"He did not have to tell me. I can see it in his eyes every
time he looks at you" Or was it all a sham?

The traitorous thought sucked the breath from Leah's lungs
and she thrust it away.

"Is that hate you see ... or desire?"

Leah fought to gain control over the tempest inside her
mind. That something had happened to cause Richard's recent
desertion from her bed, she could not deny, but it was not this.

At least now she understood Rachel's animosity. All her
sweetly worded insults, her whispered innuendoes meant to raise friction between Leah and Richard. Rachel would say
anything, do anything, to hurt Leah and think her gullible
enough to believe it. "I will not listen to any more of your
spite. I will make preparations for your departure. You will
leave. Tonight."

Head high, back straight, Leah walked toward the door.

Rachel scooted around her, swift as an eel, and blocked the
path. "If it weren't for you and your despicable father, Richard and I would be married now."

Leah gasped. "I do not believe you. Even if he had wanted
to marry you, he couldn't. You are his brother's widow. His
sister! In the eyes of both God and the law."

"It matters not. He would have damned the proprieties. Or
we would have fled the country. Do you not see? He has
always loved me. And I him. We were the best of friends as
children. We would have wed, too, if not for my parents. They
betrothed me to Eric against my will. Richard was devastated.
He joined the army, supposedly to fight the French, but he was
really running from the pain of seeing me with his brother."

"Your love is cheap. Not worth the words used to utter it."
Leah ached for the devastation Richard had endured from such
a cold-hearted betrayal. No wonder he had closed himself off,
denied his needs and his emotions. Why would he ever risk
love again when he'd offered his heart to this shrew, only to
have it trampled upon as if it were an unwanted frippery. "Had
you truly loved him, you would have defied your family to
wed him."

"It isn't that simple, as well you know," Rachel said, giving
a delicate shrug. "A woman has precious little power over her
destiny. There was nothing I could do. But Richard couldn't
understand. He was hurt. And you are right. For a time, he
hated me. But all that changed when Eric died. I was free.
Richard was free. And we were reunited. Then your treacherous father came along with his blackmail scheme"

Rachel was a liar. Not a word coming out of her mouth could be trusted, but it did not stop the vicious, ugly words
from looping through Leah's mind, Blackmail scheme, blackmail scheme, blackmail scheme.

She willed herself to walk away, nay, run from the poisonous miasma building around her, but her feet would not move,
as if they were lashed to the floor by the creeping ivy. "What
do you mean?"

Rachel shrugged. "I cannot believe you haven't guessed.
But it isn't for me to tell. Let's just say, Richard has a secret,
and he is terrified of society learning the truth. Honor and
pride and all that. Your father learned his secret, from Geoffrey, of all people, and he forced Richard to marry you"

Leah wanted to flee, to hide from the awful words that attacked her deepest fears, but it was as if she had turned to
stone and couldn't move. She tried to shut out Rachel's
hideous words, but they hacked through her defenses,
lashed her with their insidious implications.

"Why do you think he wed you?" Rachel was saying. "You
cannot possibly believe he wanted to marry you? It was to
protect someone he holds dearer than he holds his own life.
It is me he loves. Never forget it. Why do you think he nearly
ravished you in the salon the day he returned from Yorkshire?"

Leah shook her head. Her skin grew cold, despite the heat
of the plants and the furnace forcing tropical weather in
the midst of London. Her thoughts were as foggy as the
steamy mist.

And all the while, Rachel continued her torturous assault.
"It was me he wanted. We were together in the library, but I
told him I could not sleep with him, not with his wife in the
house. Because of your father, he cannot send you away. So
I sent him to slake his lust on you. How does it feel to know
when he closes his eyes as he beds you, it is me he sees beneath him?"

With a look of bored detachment on her face, Rachel stud ied the orchid to her right. "Do you want to know the basis of
your marriage? Richard weds you and beds you and your
father guarantees his silence after the first male child is born.
Once he gets his heir on you, he will leave you. Never doubt
that"

Leah's hand crept to her belly. "No, I don't believe you"

Rachel walked up behind Leah, her invidious words hot
against Leah's neck. "Think of how it must be for him. Forced
to bed a woman thrust upon him by the vilest of treacheries.
But he gritted his teeth, closed his eyes, and did his duty. You
are only useful until you bear his babe. Then his secrets will be
safe. Then he will cast you aside. And if you do not believe me,
ask him. Go on," Rachel taunted in her ear. "Ask him to send
me away. Make him choose between us. Or are you afraid?"

Rachel's laughter followed Leah from the conservatory, but
she kept her back straight, her head high, and forced her shaking legs to carry her from the room. Her stomach was churning, her blood rushing too swiftly through her veins.

She forced a serenity to her expression as she progressed
down the corridor. She would not let the servants see her distress. If only her thoughts would turn as numb as her skin, but
they tortured her with each step she took as she went in
search of Richard. That her father would stoop so low as to
blackmail a peer of the realm, Leah did not doubt.

But what could he know? What secret could a man have
that was so dark, so dirty, he would do anything to protect it,
even marry a woman he must hate? And what of Richard?
What of all the tender words and passionate moments in his
arms?

Had they all been a lark? Designed to keep her complacent
until he sired a child upon her?

No, she would not believe it. It could not be true.

He might not have wished to marry her, and he might not
love her, but he had come to care for her over the course of
their marriage. Of this, she was certain. To believe otherwise,
she would have to believe every kiss, every touch, every moment in his arms was a pretense and she could not do that.
He was too noble, too honorable, to commit such a heinous
act of deception.

But what of his recent desertion from her bed? Did he already know that she carried his child? That his seed had taken?
His mission accomplished? Could he truly love Rachel?

Leah clenched her eyes against the memory she had tried
so hard to deny. The night of Geoffrey's suicide attempt, when
she had gone to fetch Richard, he had been dreaming, thrashing about on the bed. Richard had blamed his distress on a
nightmare.

Afraid to think otherwise, Leah had accepted his words.

But she could no longer pretend. He had called out a name.

Rachel, Rachel, Rachel, over and over she heard his lowpitched voice groan the hated name. The same seductive voice
that had so often whispered Leah's name as he drove himself
within her body, deep within her body until he touched her
womb.

That he loved Rachel once, Leah could understand. But not
now. She saw the hatred that flashed in his eyes every time he
looked at Rachel. She heard the contempt in his voice every
time he spoke the woman's name. Whatever he may have felt
for her, it was in the past. But Rachel still loved Richard, so
she had spit her venom at Leah to hurt her and wound her and
drive her away.

Leah would not let Rachel win. She would not allow Rachel
to poison her mind against her husband, the father of her unborn
child. The thought of her child flamed her anger into rage.

Never would she allow her babe to be used as a pawn in a
battle between her husband and her father.

She retraced her earlier steps until she found Richard in the
library. He stood before the windows, looking out over the
gardens. His hair, wet from the storm, glistened in the slategray light beyond the glass. He had removed his coat and
waistcoat, slung them over a chair, along with his neck cloth.

He rolled his shoulders. His damp shirt pulled over every
ridged muscle in his back. She must have made a sound, perhaps a choked gasp as she remembered the heat of those muscles beneath her palms. He swung around, met her gaze, his
eyes dark, shadowed by fatigue, by pain, by some emotion
she could not name.

She wanted to run, to flee to the safety of her room, but she
forced herself to approach him. She tried to speak, but the
words tangled up in her throat. She drew a deep breath, started
again, but still, no sound came out. Her courage fled along with
her voice and she swayed on her feet.

Afraid she might faint, she staggered toward the nearest
chair. He caught her elbow in his hand, the heat of his palm
soothing against her frigid skin as he guided her to the settee
near the hearth. A small fire burned to ward off the chill of
the storm. He knelt before her, his beloved face sun-bronzed
and rugged, his eyes narrowed in concern. "The doctor said
there was nothing wrong with you. I shall have that quack's
head"

"No," she said. A sob rippled up her throat, but she choked
it back down. "I am well. I assure you"

"You do not look well. Your skin is as gray as day-old ashes
and your eyes are black smudges in your face"

She managed a weak smile, a faltering laugh to cover her
sobs. "What a dreadful fright I must be"

He held her hand in his, rubbed circles over her palm. The
motion, soft and seductive and oh, so, familiar, brought a
watery mist to her eyes. She rolled her lips between her teeth.
She would not cry. Nor would she listen to Rachel's words,
the hideous refrain circling through her mind.