A Dangerous Man (37 page)

She grabbed her dressing gown from the floor.

As she flew from the room, Richard stumbled to his feet,
collapsed onto a chair near the hearth. He buried his face in
his hands. Good God, how he loved her. With every breath he
drew, with every beat of his heart, he ached for the comfort
only Leah could give. She was everything that was good and
decent in his life and out of fear, he had sent her away.

His breathing grew ragged, his chest ached, as his fears
lashed out at him, stripping his will, urging him back into the
darkness, but he thrust them away. So what if Rachel told
the world that Alison was his daughter? He loved Alison more
than life itself and longed to claim her for his own. Yes, it
would cause a scandal, but they would survive. Life would go
on, perhaps even better than before, once the truth came out.

And he had not betrayed his brother. Never in a conscious
word or deed had he betrayed his brother.

His guilt and shame had nearly destroyed him, but now he
could see the truth. Eric had understood that, had loved him
until the end. Never had he blamed Richard, nor condemned
him in any way. He'd even taken Alison into his heart and
claimed her as his own to protect her from the world.

A vision of Leah's lovely face rose before his eyes and
Richard saw the truth with stunning clarity. He could tell her everything. About Eric. About Rachel. Even about Alison,
and she would understand. Because she loved him.

And she loved Alison. She would never condemn the child, nor
love her any less because she was Richard's natural daughter.

Why had it taken him so long to understand? Why had he
made their lives so miserable? Wasted so much time?

He rose from the chair, staggered into his room, rang for
his valet. New fears struck out at him, weakened his will,
warned him it was too late, but he would not listen.

Only one thing remained to be done.

To go to Cornwall and reclaim his wife.

"Those clouds look sure to rain, Your Grace. Perhaps we
should return to the house"

"In a moment, Marielle," Leah said, watching a falcon fly
against the wind, its high-pitched kaw frightening the smaller
birds from their nests amongst the cliffs.

The violent churning of the waves crashing into the rocks
below sent a foamy spray high over the ledge. The salt-spiced
air tasted tangy in her mouth.

The rising wind whipped her hair from its pins, and she
laughed. She slipped her hands inside her cloak, rubbed her
palms over her belly, and smiled as she felt the rolling movement of her babe beneath her skin. She had no clear memories of her journey into Cornwall, only vague impressions of
long, tedious days, followed by long, tedious nights. The
scenery along the route should have entranced her, but she
passed it by without notice, a nondescript blur in her misery.

At first, she had felt as if she'd died inside while her body
continued to live. Left with no choice, she rose every day,
donned her dress, combed her hair, and went through the motions of her day. But as one month melted into two, and two
dissolved into three, a miracle happened. Her child moved
within her.

At first, it felt as wispy as effervescent bubbles lightly tickling her skin, but with each passing day, the movement grew
stronger as she grew bigger, filling her with joy and hope for
the future. Now she had grown too big and bulky to hazard
the most treacherous heights of the cliffs, but she loved to sit
on this lower ledge and watch the sea batter the shore.

The dark, churning water was so drugging, so intense, it
was like staring into Richard's eyes.

Her skin grew warm despite the brisk November wind as
shame swept in along with her memories of their last confrontation.

She could not comprehend what had possessed her to give
in to Rachel's malicious taunting, to issue her husband an ultimatum he was bound to reject. She truly hadn't believed any
of Rachel's words. She knew Richard despised his sister-inlaw with a passion she was only now beginning to understand.

But he was a proud and forceful man. His response had
stemmed from wounded pride and male ego. No one was
going to tell him how to live his life, including his wife. So
she'd found herself banished to the furthermost recesses of
Cornwall.

God, how she missed him, but she had her pride, too.

Her stubborn will refused to allow her to write to him, to
plead for forgiveness, to beg to come home. But stubborn will
and stupid pride made for cold and lonely company when she
was alone in her bed with only her memories to sustain her.

Perhaps he was right. Perhaps she had merely latched on to
Rachel as a convenient excuse when what she'd really wanted,
truly wanted, was his total surrender. His avowal of love.

Whatever the reason, she knew she had to write Richard
soon.

He had a right to know he was about to become a father,
but every time she picked up her pen, fear stayed her hand, convinced her she could wait until tomorrow, and for the tomorrow after that, and so her letter remained unwritten.

She tried not to think of where he was, of what he was
doing, of with whom he was passing his time. Such torturous
thoughts only made her pulse race, her heart beat madly, and
she needed to remain calm for her babe.

Rachel's insidious words rose unbidden to Leah's mind.

Once Richard gets his heir on you, his secrets will be
safe ... he will cast you aside ... he will leave you....

As much as her common sense told Leah that Rachel was
a liar who had bent the truth to fit her own designs, her vicious words preyed on Leah's deepest insecurities. While fear
of losing Richard tormented Leah day and night, she could
not allow her child to be used to satisfy her father's evil
schemes.

With a sigh, she pulled her fur-lined cloak tighter about her
neck. Either way, she had to write to Richard soon.

She had to tell him about the babe.

Leah pushed herself up from her seat upon the rocks, then
linked her arm through her maid's. They followed the winding path back to the house, their pace slowed by damp patches
of slippery moss growing atop the rocks.

The butler met them at the door. "You have a visitor, Your
Grace"

Leah smiled. "A visitor? How mysterious, Harris. Is it the
vicar? I thought we weren't meeting until tomorrow."

"Leah" A voice, low and deep and achingly familiar, coming
from the shadows in the crimson drawing room.

A form materialized in the doorway, slowly took the shape
of a man. Broad shoulders encased in burgundy wool. Long
legs wrapped in buff pantaloons, cut so exquisitely, every
muscle from shin to thigh was outlined in precise detail. He
leaned one hand against the jamb. The other, he held stiff by
his side.

"Richard" She was not sure if she said the word, or if she
even breathed. She clutched her cloak at the neck.

The thick, fur-lined wool covered her body from shoulder
to toe and provided some protection from the chill shivering
through her bones. Her feet felt frozen to the marble floor
while her stunned brain registered the fact that he was well
and truly here, and by the hard line of his jaw and the rigid
slant of his eyes, he was none too pleased about it.

She had often fantasized about seeing him again. She had
imagined herself on her knees, begging his forgiveness for
her rash words. She had imagined him on his knees, begging
her forgiveness for sending her away. But never had she
imagined he would still be angry.

What if he wanted to put an end to their marriage?

For the sake of her babe, Leah knew she had to control
her wild emotions, but her racing heart sent her blood rushing through her veins. A spasm clenched her belly, wrapped
around her spine until she nearly doubled over from the pain,
but she drew a deep breath, gathered the skirts of her cloak
and dress into her hands and walked up the stairs with as
much dignity as she could manage. She knew he followed because she could hear his boot heels on the marble steps.

She could not let him see how vulnerable she was. She
could not let him see how much she still loved him.

With the wet weather and rutted roads, the journey from
London had taken Richard over a sennight. He'd had time
aplenty to rehearse what he wanted to say, what he needed to say.

Now that the moment was here, he could not remember a
word.

She walked to the windows, as if needing to put distance
between them. He stood by the fire, hands clutched behind
his back to keep from pulling her into his arms.

Her cheeks were flushed, her hair windswept and curling wildly around her face. Never had she appeared more beautiful, or more vulnerable. He wanted to drag her into his arms
and shout out his love, but his tongue felt thick and swollen
and wouldn't form the words. Her eyes, which had gleamed
as she'd greeted Harris, had turned dull and flat when she realized Richard had arrived. The crushing sensation in the
center of his chest grew heavier still.

"You look ... well," he said, then silently cursed the
sudden nervousness that had him stammering like a child.

Her eyes were wide, her gaze shifting away, then coming
back to meet his, as if she were afraid. She clutched her hands
to her throat, her cheeks suddenly pale against the dark fur of
her cloak. "Why are you here?" she asked, her voice soft,
choked.

He took a step toward her, as if pulled by an invisible hand.
He shook with his need to touch her, to draw her into his
arms, to bury his lips against her hair.

"I have come here for you," he said, though the words held
no hint of the emotions clenching his gut.

Her chin titled down, her brows drew together, as she tried
to discern his meaning. Her eyes brimming with moisture,
she opened her mouth, as if to speak, but he held up his hand.

"Please, do not" He pushed his fingers through his hair, an
awkward, stumbling clod out to win his lady's heart, a lady
who must surely hate him now. "Please, listen to what I have
come here to say."

He crossed the room, took her hand in his. Her skin felt cold,
fragile against his palm. He heard her sharp gasp, watched confusion and fear cloud her expression.

She pulled her hand from his grasp, laced her fingers at her
waist, as if to keep him from reaching for her again, as if his
touch caused her pain.

A fist-sized knot formed at the base of his throat, choking
him. He pulled off his cravat, dropped it to the floor.

"I know I have wronged you," he finally managed. "I know I have hurt you, but I have come here to ask-no, to plead your
forgiveness. And to beg you, please, take me back. Flawed that
I am, it is all I can offer you"

He watched her eyes fill with shimmering tears.

Desperately, he searched for the words. He knew he could
hold nothing back, even if it meant baring his soul before her
until he stood naked beneath her gaze. The time for halftruths was past. "You are God's gift to this sinner, and even
though I do not deserve you, I will never give you up. I have
lived in darkness for so long, it took me time to understand. I
need you, Leah. I want you beside me every day for the rest
of my life. But most of all.. ."

He raised his hand, palm up. "Leah, I love you"

Eyes shut, breath locked in his throat, he waited, the silence in the room agonizing in its intensity.

A heartbeat passed. Then another. Each painful thump sent
a trembling through his hand as he waited. He was aware of
her wispy, uneven breathing, her shuddering sigh, then the
soft, tingling slide of her palm covering his.

He groaned as he dragged her into his arms. His thoughts
scattered, his breath hitched. He dropped to his knees, flung
open the folds of her mantle.

"Oh ... my ... God"

"Oh, my, God," he said again, because he could think of
nothing else to say. His brain had stopped working as he knelt
before her and stared at her belly thrusting against her paisley frock, her big, round belly, heavy with his child.

His breath rushed from his lungs, and he realized he had
forgotten to breathe. No wonder she'd seemed so afraid.

He surged to his feet, nearly lost his balance as his blood
rushed from his head. "Why did you not tell me?"

She pressed her fist to her lips, her hand shaking as badly
as his legs.

The swelling in his throat grew larger until he thought he
might choke. "You should have told me ""

"I wanted to tell you. I tried-" She choked on a sob, but
she lifted her chin, faced him with her unwavering gaze, wet
with her tears. "I searched the house for you. You were in the
conservatory with Rachel. After you left, Rachel told me of
my father's perfidy. I couldn't tell you, then. I could not let my
babe be used as a weapon between you and my father .. ."

Her voice dropped so low he had to strain to hear her
words. "I could not ask you to let me stay, knowing how you
must despise me ""

I did not bed you because of my bargain with your father," he ground out through his teeth, his guilt and his anguish
churning a hole in his stomach. "If you believe nothing else I
tell you, please believe this. From the first moment I met you.
You were a beacon of light in my black world, and I wanted
you"

Like an opium eater, he could not get enough.

He would never get enough. He shook from the power she
held over him, a power he'd never thought to yield to another,
but he knew he was safe in her hands. Still, he had to make
her understand. "I have never despised you, never wanted you
to leave. Leah, I love you"

"Then why did you send me away?"

He brushed his knuckles over her cheeks, stroked her tears
with his thumbs. "What did Rachel tell you?"

"That you love her. That you have always loved her. That
you would have wed her if not for my father. And you admitted my father forced you to marry me. I knew it from the
start, you know. Oh, not exactly what he had done, but that he
had done something. Why else would a man like you ever
think to wed someone like me? Please tell me, Richard. I have
a right to know. What weapon did my father use?"