A Dangerous Man (38 page)

He knew a greater fear, then, than he had ever known in his
life. He wanted to lie, but he would have no more secrets between them. Their entire future rested on this moment.

The moment he had dreaded. The moment of truth.

"Alison is not my niece," he said. "She is my daughter."

My daughter. It was the first time he'd spoken the words
aloud. Such sweet words that caused him so much pain.

Leah buried her face in her hands. Her shoulders shook
from suppressing her tears. His chest grew tight, and tighter
still, as if steel bands were wrapped round his ribs.

Then she lowered her hands, lifted her gaze to Richard's,
the amber streaks glimmering within her tears. "How can you
say that you love me? That my father used that precious little girl to gain his own ends is despicable. It is unspeakable. How
you must hate me," she sobbed and spun away.

The pale light from the gathering storm cast harsh angles
over her face, the lines of pain streaking away from her eyes.
The disgust trembling in her voice, aimed not at him, but at
her father? Dare he hope?

He walked up behind her, so close he could feel the rise
and fall of her breathing. When she didn't object, he slid his
arms around her waist, cradled her back against his chest,
rested his cheek against her hair, inhaled the sweet familiar
scent of roses that had haunted his dreams.

"I have never blamed you," he said against her ear. "Or held
you responsible for your father's misdeeds. I told you once, I
wanted to hate you. I admitted it. But I could not. You were a
breath of fresh air in my rank life, and I was afraid. Because I
knew, right from the start, I knew I could love you. God
knows, I tried not to" He smoothed her hair from her brow.
"Leah, I love you"

She turned her head until her cheek rested against his
shoulder, until he could not see her features, save for her reflection in the windows. "How can that be true? After what
my father did to you, how can that be true?"

"You don't seem shocked that Alison is my daughter. Did
Rachel tell you?"

She shook her head. "There is a lovely portrait of your
brother in the long gallery in this house. The moment I saw
it, I knew she could not be his. I do not know why it took me
so long. After all, she looks just like you"

"Do you not want to know how I came to have a child by
my brother's wife?"

"Did you love her very much?"

He released his grip on her, stalked to the hearth, ground
his fist against the marble chimney piece. "No. I thought I
did. When we were young. But I have since come to realize
that I loved the dream she spun for me. I had planned to make her my wife. Of course, that was before she married my
brother."

The fire was dying. He knelt and tossed a log on the flames,
sending a flurry of sparks up the flue. "So I joined the army.
After Waterloo, they had a celebration to welcome me home.
Feasting, drinking, and the like. I did a lot of drinking. So
much so that I found myself naked upon my bed. I don't even
know how I got there. The next thing I knew, there was a
woman beneath me. I thought I was dreaming."
"

He sucked in a searing breath. "I thought it was a dream.
Until she whispered my name. Then I knew. But my nightmare had just begun." He pressed the heels of his hands
against his eyes, but nothing could stop the anguish that
wracked his body. Nothing could stop the vision that pounded
his brain.

I heard my door open. I heard Eric's voice. And I saw his
face when he realized the woman beneath me was his wife. I
will never forget the look on his face"

"What happened?" Leah whispered.

"Nine months later my daughter was born. Eric never
denied her. Geoffrey says he treated her as if she were his
own. I should have been grateful for that, but I was living in
hell. Knowing I had betrayed my brother. Knowing I had a
daughter I couldn't see, couldn't touch, couldn't hold."

Richard met Leah's gaze, shimmering with unshed tears.
He wanted to lay his head against her breast, but he was afraid
to touch her, afraid he would lose the weak grip he had on his
control. "I never even saw her until she was four years old.
Oh, sometimes I would watch her from a distance, when her
nurse took her to the park. But I couldn't go home. I couldn't
face my brother, knowing I had betrayed him. Then Eric
died."

Christ, his eyes felt hot and wet, as if he might weep. He
rubbed his hands over his face. "My daughter my sweet, beautiful, innocent daughter-lives with me, in my house,
and I can never claim her for my own"

His breathing grew harsh, his skin too tight from the tension hardening his muscles. He prowled the room. "As if all
that weren't bad enough, I robbed you of your innocence,
kept you from marrying the man-" God, he could not even
put it into words. He ground his teeth. ". . . the man you
loved, merely to cover my sins. And then I sent you to have
my child, alone and unprotected. I am as villainous as your
father."

He closed his eyes, dragged his hands down his face. He
knew she approached. He could hear her soft footsteps pattering across the rug, but he could not bring himself to meet
her gaze. He felt exposed, vulnerable, his deepest sins revealed.

"I have loved you for the longest time," she said, fluttering
her fingertips along his cheek.

His fears must have shown in his eyes as he met her gaze,
for she nodded. She stroked her hands over his shoulders,
gave a soft, self-deprecating laugh. "And I wanted to wed
you. Truly, I did. How could I not, when you swept into my
life with your demon-dark eyes and your too-hungry kisses
that swept all thoughts of any other man out of my mind?"

Her tone was teasing, but her smile faltered. "I think, at first,
it was infatuation. I was drawn to you from the moment we
met. You are so handsome, so forceful, so strong. How could I
resist falling in love with you? Then I convinced myself that I
must love you because of the intimacies of our marriage bed.
But those are callow reasons, and I am ashamed. Now I know
the man you are, the sacrifices you have made ... and I am the
one not worthy of your love."

She dammed his protests with her fingertips. "Yet you say
you love me, and I thank God for the gift He's granted me. I
thank God for the gift of your love."

Richard dragged her into his arms. Her tears splashed against his cheeks, mingled with his own, while his tongue
mingled with hers. He dragged his mouth along her jaw.

"I love you," he groaned, the words made all the sweeter
by the taste of her breath upon his lips, then her whispered response, "And I love you"

He slid her mantle from her shoulders, slowly worked the
ribbons that secured her gown beneath her breasts.

She captured his hand, but her gaze shifted to the wall
behind his back. "I have grown so large. I will displease you"

He placed two fingers against her lips. "I thought you understood, but I guess I haven't made myself perfectly clear. I
have always thought you beautiful, but I do not love you for
your face, or your body, or your hair. I love the person you
are, the beauty inside you. You carry my child in your womb.
And I want to see you. All of you"

Holding her gaze with his, he returned his hands to the ribbons of her gown. His fingers trembled as he lifted the frock
away from her shoulders and let it slide to the floor, sending
her soft cotton shift along with it. He had never seen a pregnant woman before. He held his breath, swallowed past the
knot in his throat, then dropped his gaze.

Her stomach was round and high beneath her breasts. Her
breasts were swollen, her nipples huge. A ripple rolled across
her skin. His gaze shot to hers and she smiled, took his hand,
and placed his palm flat against her skin, until he felt it.

A firm, swift kick. He laughed as he dropped to his knees,
reverently ran his hands over her belly.

"Our child," he whispered as he worshipped her with his
hands and mouth.

She wrapped her fingers in his hair as he met her gaze.

"Thank you, for the gift you bear me, here in your womb"
He kissed her belly, then pushed to his feet, brought his lips
within a whisper of hers. "Thank you for loving me"

He swept her into his arms, surprised at her lightness despite the burden of his child nestled within her. He gently
placed her on the bed. She leaned up on her elbows.

Her gaze never left his hands as he removed his cravat,
shrugged out of his waistcoat, peeled away his shirt. He
groaned and shoved his breeches to the floor. Her eyes darkening, she stared at his rigid shaft as he came down on the bed
beside her. Her drew her hand to his chest. "Touch me. Please,
touch me ""

He sucked in his breath as she ran her fingers through the
thick mat of black hair covering his chest, her touch tantalizingly soft and more erotic than anything that had come
before. All the barriers were down. All the secrets told.

A lifetime of love beckoned him home.

He pushed her back against the pillows, moved his mouth
to her throat, drank the sweet taste of her skin. She gripped
his shoulders, her moan of pleasure bringing him too close to
the edge. It had been so long, too damn long since he had
touched her. He wanted to make it last, but he was nearly
undone.

He trailed a lazy path to her breasts, drew one dusky peak
into his mouth as his hands wrapped around her flesh, amazed
at the changes in her body. She was always beautiful, but now
she was lush and glowing, radiant in her pleasure.

He gazed up at her flushed face and he smiled. "Soon our
child will suckle at your breast"

"You are a wonderful father to Alison," she said. She ran
her fingers through his hair, pushing the fringe back from his
eyes. Her voice came out low, trembling with emotion, with
admiration, with need. "I know our child will be blessed."

A father. The idea had yet to fully penetrate his senses. He
was going to be a father again, only this time, there was no
shame in the knowledge. No aching betrayal. No desperate
longing for a child he could never claim.

There was only love. Only joy.

Then he thrust all thoughts of the child from his mind, brought his mouth to her thighs. He licked and nibbled his way down the
length of her leg, pausing at the underside of her knee, laughing
when she shivered as he slid her silk stockings down to her
ankles, as he journeyed ever lower.

He could feel his pulse pounding, his heart racing, his sex
straining, as he retraced his path along her other leg.

Swift, hot, urgent need sent his shoulders between her
knees, his lips searching through her soft curls, his tongue
tasting her arousal, his fingers joining his tongue, stroking,
laving, until she convulsed against him, until she cried out her
sweet words, "I love you."

He pulled her into his arms, cradled her against his chest,
breathed deeply to ease his thundering heart.

I want to please you," she said, her voice sultry and low,
her eyes glazed, her hair spilling erotically over his chest.

Her breath fluttered over his still burning skin. "You cannot
please me any more than you already have-"

Her hand circled his erection, fingertips lightly stroking
over the sensitive tip, then down to the base. His skin coiled
tightly with each tentative stroke. All hope of protest slipped
from his mind. She did not need him to teach her the tempo,
the rhythm, the tension, she learned by his grunts and moans.

She destroyed his control. He wanted to spread her legs
wide, lift her thighs over his hips, and drive himself deep
inside her body, wanted her sheathing him when he came, but
he feared hurting the babe. Lost to sensation, to want, to need,
to love, he shoved his fingers through her soft hair, waiting
until his climax was nearly upon him before dragging her lips
to his. "I love you"

Rachel was travel weary, covered with dust, her arms and
legs aching from long days spent in a jostling carriage. The
last thing she wanted was to see the man she loved fondling
his wife in the breakfast room of Wexton Manor. The sound
of lip-sucking kisses seemed incongruous amidst the scents
of scones and clotted cream. He must be out of his mind!

She wished she had a whip. She would strip the skin from
his backside until he came to his senses-and that was before
he stepped away from his wife. Leah's loosely flowing woolen
frock could not hide the advanced state of her swollen belly.

The bile rising in Rachel's throat nearly choked her. The air
around her grew so cold, as if the windows were thrown open
to the wind. Even the breath within her lungs seemed frozen.

She started to shake, but she needed time to think.

So she gritted her teeth, whipped on a smile, and walked
with quiet dignity into the room. "We have found you at last."

The color drained from Leah's face until her cheeks were as
pale as the frost dusting the windows. She was afraid, and well
she should be. Richard wasn't afraid, though. His narrow-eyed
glare could melt the frozen ground.

"Come make your curtsy to your uncle," Rachel called over her shoulder as she untied her bonnet, which she handed to a
footman, along with her fur muff and wrinkled blue cloak.

Clattering footsteps echoed out in the entry before Alison
came charging into the room, her nurse racing to keep up
with her. Richard caught Alison against his chest. Her gay
laughter mingled with his as he swung her high in the air, her
wool cloak swinging out around her feet.

He set the child down in front of his wife. "Say good morning to your Aunt Leah"

Rachel waited in breathless anticipation for Alison to toss
hate-filled words at Leah, as she had back at the house. When
her daughter rushed into Leah's arms, exchanged whispered
words of love and apology, Rachel bit back a scream.