Elizabeth Thornton - [Special Branch 02] (27 page)

The reference to the house in Marylebone, where he entertained Lady Daphne, made her palm itch. She said coolly, “You’re so clever, you explain it.”

He snagged her wrist and brushed his lips along her palm. She took a quick shallow breath. He looked up, his eyes narrowing on her face. Something beyond comprehension leaped between them. She tried to wrench her hand away, but he drew her into his arms. There was no humor in his eyes now.

“Listen to me, Gwyn,” he said. “It’s the same for me. And I don’t know why we’re fighting it.”

His hands cupped her cheeks, bringing her face up to his. She looked up, sure that she was reading
too much into his words. When he kissed her, she curled her fingers around his wrists to steady herself.

There was a smile in his voice. “Don’t look so disbelieving.” Against her lips, he said, “I want to right the wrong I did you, Gwyn. I want to right the wrong I did my son.”

“
Our
son,” she cried mournfully.

“Our son.” There was wonder and awe in his voice. “Our son. We have a lot to talk about, but right now, I want to think only of you.” He kissed her eyes closed, he kissed her cheeks, her brows, the slope of her throat. “This is how it should have been. Let me show you how it would have been that night if only I’d known it was you.”

There was one moment of brilliant clarity when all her misgivings fused into a single thought: this could be the biggest mistake of her life. But clarity wasn’t what she ached for right then. Everything she had ever wanted was right there in Jason’s eyes.

He was watching her intently, waiting, she thought, for some sign that she would accept him as her lover. He felt guilty for the way he had taken her that first time, and that seemed strange to her. She had never thought of him as a brutal lover. They had come together when they were in the grip of a terrible grief. He hadn’t been gentle, but she hadn’t expected it. The only thing that was brutal, in her mind, was when he’d said another woman’s name.

“What’s my name?” she asked.

He frowned. “Gwyneth, of course.”

A smile softened her lips. “Well, at least you got that right. It’s a good beginning, I suppose.”

His hands slid over her shoulders. “I’m going to make you forget that night. Come to bed, Gwyn. Let me love you. Let me show you how it could have been.”

She didn’t resist. She’d already made up her mind that this was what she wanted. But she didn’t want it to be all one-sided. She hoped she wouldn’t disappoint him.

His movements were unhurried, his touch gentle, his kisses soft and undemanding. Desire crept up on her slowly, then not so slowly when his hand covered her breast. But when he pushed the edges of her dressing gown aside and began to undo the buttons on her nightgown, she stiffened involuntarily.

He drew away. “Gwyn, what is it?”

“Nothing.”

“I won’t hurt you.”

“I know you won’t.”

“You’re afraid of something.”

He had the kind of eyes that could delve into a woman’s mind and learn her thoughts before she knew them herself. She let out a shivery sigh. “I’m afraid I’ll disappoint you. Oh Jason, you’ve had so many love affairs, you’ve known so many beautiful women.” She stopped when it occurred to her that she was beginning to sound like an awkward schoolgirl. She shrugged helplessly. “Don’t expect too much. That’s all I mean.”

His fingers combed through her hair, keeping her head up as he kissed the frown from her brow. “Idiot,” he murmured. “What do you think I’m feeling? I don’t want to disappoint you either.”

He might have told her that his many affairs were mostly bought and paid for, with the finer feelings never entering into it. He could have told her that his many women were second best, and poor substitutes for her. But what really set Gwyn apart was what he felt for her. He wanted to care for her, he wanted to protect her. In short, he wanted to be master of his own woman, but all the power was in her hands.

Looking down at her he said simply, “I’m afraid I’ll fail with you, and you’re the one woman who matters to me.”

It wasn’t a confession of love, but his words thrilled her all the same. She twined her arms around his neck. “I won’t let you fail,” she said.

Though the room was warm, she shivered when he slipped her dressing gown from her shoulders and tossed it on the floor. But he drew her close again, and the heat from his body warmed her pleasantly. She was no longer shy, no longer afraid that he would find her wanting. It was so easy, so sweet that she gave herself up to whatever he asked of her.

His kisses became hungry; his touches more intimate. She was hardly aware when he removed her nightgown and sent it the way of her robe. Something was building inside her. She was restless; she wanted to get closer to him. She wanted … she wanted. She didn’t know what she wanted.

When he rose to strip out of his clothes, the one candle that was lit sputtered and went out. In the sudden shadows, all Gwyn’s senses became acute. She heard the wind soughing in the trees outside; she smelled the candle that had burned itself out; she felt the soft feather mattress at her back. But these things were as nothing to her awareness of the man who stood by her bed.

“Gwyn?” he said.

She didn’t know what caused the lump in her throat—Jason saying her name, or the uncertainty in his voice. She held her arms out to him. “I’m right here, Jason.”

Her breath quickened when bare skin brushed over bare skin, then caught on a sob when he covered her body with his. She thought she knew what to expect, but she saw now she didn’t know anything at all.
He murmured something, but she didn’t respond. She was past thinking, past talking. Her skin was fevered, her blood was hot. Why couldn’t she breathe?

For years, she’d submerged her own desires for the good of her son. Caution and control were second nature to her. But tonight she had let Jason take control, and he was showing her a side of her nature she hadn’t known existed before now.

“Jason,” she said, trying to convey her urgency. “Jason!”

“Am I going too fast for you?”

She swallowed a moan. “You’re going too slow.”

“I want this to be perfect for you.”

“It is perfect. It is!”

He was smiling when his mouth found hers, but the smile disintegrated when she touched him as intimately as he touched her. From that moment on, he was lost. He slid between her thighs and slowly entered her.

Gwyn
, he reminded himself.
This is for Gwyn. Slow and easy
. But her mouth was hungry on his, and he could hear the little cries of arousal at the back of her throat. He had to clench his teeth to stave off the first wave of pleasure.

He moved, and she wrapped herself around him. When she began to gasp, fighting for breath, he gave himself permission to take her the way he wanted. He had dreamed of her like this, not only wild to have him, but true mate to his mate.

At the last, it was her image that filled his mind, her name he cried into the hollow of her throat.

I
t was the sound of the wind rattling the windowpanes that made her stir. She opened her eyes and gradually came to herself. Several candles were lit, and someone had revived the fire. The room was pleasantly warm.

As full awareness returned, she pulled herself up. Jason was not there. She felt the pillow next to hers. It was still warm from the heat of his body, as were the sheets where he’d slept beside her after they’d made love. He must have just left her bed to go back to his own room.

It was a reprieve of sorts, because she wasn’t sure she was up to facing him right now. She didn’t know what she was thinking or feeling. Everything had happened so suddenly. If she felt anything, it was that she’d been struck by a thunderbolt.

She became aware of other things: her body was warm and damp; his scent clung to her skin; she ached from the force of his passion. She was teary, not because she was sad, but because she was … teary.

She hated teary women.

With a snort of derision, she got out of bed and picked up her nightgown. She had just slipped it over
her head when she noticed Jason’s jacket and neckcloth draped over a chair. This provoked another snort. If Maddie had found them in the morning, she would know what to make of it.

She was reaching for his jacket when she stopped, looked at the burning candles, the smoldering fire, and Jason’s discarded clothes. It came to her then that Jason had every intention of coming back. She stood for a moment, lost in thought, then she donned her dressing gown and left the room.

She found him where she thought he would be. A pool of light spilled into the corridor from Mark’s room. She stopped at the open door and watched Jason, with candle in hand, stare down at his sleeping son. The look on his face made her heart clench.

Jason looked up, saw her, and his expression gradually hardened. After adjusting the blankets to cover Mark’s shoulders, he ushered her from the room.

“We must talk” was all he said, and his tone of voice matched his expression.

She’d thought she would feel awkward when she had to face him again, but all she felt was bewilderment. In the aftermath of passion, he’d been so sweet and loving. She’d fallen asleep with her head in the crook of his shoulder, with his hands running ceaselessly over her back. She was at a complete loss to understand this change in him.

She answered him in a fierce whisper. “Not now, Jason. The servants will soon be up. If they find us together, what will they think?”

“I don’t give a damn what they think. And they won’t be up for hours yet.”

When he pushed her into her own room, she backed away from him. After shutting the door, he set his candle down and turned slowly to face her. Across the width of the room, his eyes blazed her such a look that her heart began to beat in slow, painful strokes.

“What is it?” she asked. “Why do you look at me like that?”

He began to walk toward her. “Do you realize what you have done? You and your pride have robbed me of seven years of my son’s life. You lived with a man who abused you, and abused my son for all I know. Why didn’t you come to me? Why didn’t you tell me about Mark?”

“Tell you what?” she asked incredulously. “What was I to say? ‘By the way, Jason, you won’t remember this, but you were my lover for one night and Mark is the result?’ Would you have believed me?”

“Yes!” he roared.

She wasn’t incredulous now, she was livid. “You were supposed to do your duty and marry a wealthy woman to save Haddo. I heard it from your grandmother long before I eloped with Nigel, and I heard it from Trish long after I was married. And we all know that Radleys do their duty. A fine wedding present that would have been for you and your wife if I’d turned up on your doorstep with a baby in my arms.”

A pulse beat furiously in his cheek. “That’s not it. It was because your pride was hurt. What kind of mother would stay with a man who hated her son?
My
son. You were Mark’s only hope and you let him down.”

She flinched from the words as if he had struck her. Her face was as white as the gown she wore.

“Gwyn, I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean it.”

He reached for her, but she was quicker than he. She lashed out and struck him full across the face with her open hand. They were both shocked.

“Gwyn!”

She shied away from the hand he held out to her, and he let his hand drop away. When he spoke, it sounded as though a piece of glass had lodged in his throat. “He looked so small and defenseless in that big
bed. When I thought of what his life must have been like with people who didn’t want him, something inside me snapped. You just happened to be there at the wrong moment, so you felt the brunt of my anger. But it’s myself I blame. If you didn’t know that you could always come to me for help, I failed you both.”

She said coldly, “You can stop blaming yourself. I stayed with Nigel because I didn’t have a choice. Legally, he was Mark’s father. If I had left him, he would have kept Mark. The law gives him that right.”

“But he didn’t want Mark. Your brother-in-law made that very clear. Nobody wanted him.”

She took a quick breath, then another, and suddenly she was fighting for every breath. “I wanted him,” she shouted. “I would never give up my son or let anyone hurt him. That’s why I stayed with a man who hated me. No, he didn’t want Mark, but he didn’t want it known that Mark wasn’t his son. He didn’t want to lose face if his wife left him. And what better way to punish me? So don’t you judge me, Jason Radley! Don’t you dare judge me!”

The torment in her voice scourged him. “Gwyn, don’t!”

He caught her in his arms. She twisted, she arched away, she tried to strike out at him, but he wrestled her down on the bed and subdued her with the press of his own body. After a while, she stopped struggling and he relieved her of some of his weight.

“Are you all right?” he murmured.

“Let me up,” she said, her voice sounding drained of all emotion.

“Gwyn—”

“Oh let me up. I promise not to cause a scene.”

He rolled to his side.

She got up, went to the washstand and bathed her face with a cloth wrung out in cold water. When he made no move to get off the bed, but simply swung
his legs over the edge and sat up, she sighed and took one of the chairs by the fire.

“What now?” she asked, cold as ice.

He looked down at his clasped hands. “I wish I could take back those words.” His head lifted and he looked directly into her eyes. “And they’re not true. I’ve seen how you’ve looked after Mark. He couldn’t be the boy he is if you hadn’t been an exceptional mother.”

She tried to harden her heart, but the sting in her eyes warned her that she was no more immune to Jason than she’d ever been. “What is it you want to know?”

“I’ve lost seven years. I know I can never get them back, but I want to know about your life with Nigel Barrie.” He appealed to her, with hands extended, palms up. “Put yourself in my place. If you’d lost seven years of your son’s life, wouldn’t you want to know?”

It was the one appeal that she couldn’t resist. She was still smarting from his words, but she felt she owed him this. She couldn’t look at him, wouldn’t look at him. Instead, she fixed her gaze on the fire. “Of course it was difficult for Mark, but what he suffered from most was Nigel’s neglect, and that was all to the good. You must remember that Nigel was away most of the time. He was a soldier, and a good soldier. I think the army was in his blood. That’s what he really loved. At any rate, Mark and I were left to our own devices.”