Jackal (Regency Refuge 2) (21 page)

"Chakal Manor will still be there next week, next month, or even next year. It's not worth it to endanger your recovery like this."

"You're worth it."

What?

"Hmm." His voice rumbled warm and alluring between them. He still didn't open his eyes. "Yes, indeed. You are most definitely worth it."

All the fight went out of her. "This isn't supposed to be about me."

"Of course it is, my jewel. You and your sisters were robbed of your home – forced to leave it against your will. I won't feel better about what you had to endure until I can return you all to Chakal Manor and allow you to reclaim it as your own."

He'd called her his jewel before, but that had been when he was distracted or ill. It was an off-hand endearment that seemed to slip out without his knowledge. She'd not ever noticed him saying it fully aware before. Or so she'd thought. Had she been dismissing remarks as accidental that hadn't been? It wouldn't be the first time she'd misunderstood his words or intent.

Rupert confounded her.

"Are you done working with the War Department?" They'd not had much opportunity to speak about such things until now. Not that she should have gone out of her way to do so, but Juliana had been able to get nary a minute alone with Rupert in the weeks since he'd regained consciousness.

He frowned and opened his eyes. "I'm no good for any kind of active duty. Between injury and the unwanted attention drawn by the death of the minister and his son, there's not much chance I'll ever again move about covertly. I'll be available if they've a need to consult me, but that will be the extent of my involvement with the War Department."

"No more putting yourself in danger to protect others?"

"That's not espionage, love. That's called manhood. A man shouldn't get the privilege to claim a family as his own if he's not willing to die in order to protect them." He eyed her with such intensity she didn't know what to say.

Then he smiled, and it reached all the way up to his eyes, making them glitter like midnight diamonds refracting the light.

My word, he's beautiful when he smiles.

All other coherent thought slipped from her mind as she became mesmerized.

"Juliana, I need to speak with you about something."

"Very well."

He frowned, and some of the light left his eyes. "I'm the last of my line."

What did he mean by mentioning it now? Then realization struck. "You need an heir."

His eyes widened, and his face flushed.

"It's nothing to be embarrassed about. Men need heirs. That's the way of things."

Rupert closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I grew up knowing I lived in a dangerous world and would have an equally dangerous career. I didn't expect ever to marry or have children. That was supposed to fall to William."

"You don't wish to wed?" He wasn't making much sense, and she was getting more confused by the minute.

"What I mean to say is, I never expected to develop feelings for anybody, and I might not be very good at communicating with a woman."

Puzzled, Juliana asked, "Aren't we communicating now?"

Rupert growled deep in his throat before continuing. "If you hadn't noticed, I'm doing a terrible job of having an important conversation with you."

Of course she'd noticed the conversation moving along in the most peculiar manner, but she hadn't realized it was an important one. She leaned closer in anticipation, hoping his idea of important was the same as hers. She'd be crushed if he announced plans to settle them at Chakal Manor and then go off in search of a young debutante with an ample dowry to make his bride. People in their circle didn't marry for love, but that was all she had to offer him.

"Tell me, Rupert." Her voice was quiet. "I'm sure you won't offend my delicate sensibilities."

"There have been times where… well… that I've gotten the impression you have feelings for me."

"Well, certainly."
Of course I have feelings for you, you dolt!

Rupert threw his hands up in the air. "What does that even mean?" Then he muttered to himself. Juliana didn't catch all of it, but she thought he said "feminine mind" and "insufferably complicated."

Now she was even more muddled. "You're insulting me?"

"I'm trying to ask you to marry me if you'd stop changing the subject. I've had clearer conversations with highwaymen before!"

Juliana's mouth dropped open as she sat, stunned. "I'm worse than a highwayman?"

Rupert reached out a hand and grasped hers, tugging her across the coach. He pulled her in close to his side and brushed his lips along her temple. "I love you and want to spend the rest of my life making you happy, but every time I look at you, I get lost in your eyes, and I fear I'm not going to be man enough to live up to all you deserve. I'm not sure that becoming my wife…"

He swallowed before continuing. "I'm not sure marrying me is the best thing for you, but I cannot tolerate the thought of you with another man, or of my life without you. So I'm asking, my precious jewel, will you spend all your days with a lame man who is so used to keeping secrets that he talks in riddles and who may never do an adequate job of expressing to you how profoundly he wants you in his life?"

Juliana buried her face against his chest and gripped the front of his waistcoat. As his arms came around her, she began to cry. All the fears she'd held at bay during his lengthy recovery – the fears she'd denied whilst others said he would never wake as day passed into day with no sign of consciousness – were purged with those tears. Rupert must be wondering why she was crying. He'd asked her to marry him, and she'd become a watering pot. Forcing herself to breathe evenly and to gather her wits, she peered up at Rupert.

"I was so afraid of losing you, but I didn't let myself think it. I made myself believe you would be okay because I couldn't bear the thought of letting you down. But I was so afraid. I—"

His lips stole the words she'd been about to utter, and the thoughts behind them soon fluttered away, too. All she had room for in her mind was feeling. The feel of Rupert's lips on hers, of his hand cupping her neck and drawing her closer, his thumb gently massaging in rhythm with her pulse there.

Dizzying sensations she'd never before experienced thrummed through her and made her want to stay by his side. One of his arms wrapped around her back to keep her from falling off the seat. The warmth of his skin and the pounding of his heart met the touch of her fingers. Then another sensation intruded – something poking her in the back. And poking. And poking again.

"Humph." She tried to bat it away. Once her hand connected with wood, her eyes flew open.

What on earth?

Chapter Thirty-Five

"It's about time! I've seen starved dogs trying to kill each other over a scrap of meat break apart easier than the two of you." Mrs. Burnham's strident tones crashed through the carriage.

Well, at least she didn't mention animals mating.

"And don't even get me started on…"

"That's enough!" Juliana yelled to cut her off.

She circled around in order to apologize to Rupert for the scene but gasped before she could put the thought into words. He was buttoning his shirt. "Did I do that?"

"Do what?" He winked.

"Your shirt."

"Ah… I'm pretty sure I didn't unbutton it."

Juliana felt the heat climbing up her chest and neck, a scorching inferno of embarrassment. Or was that pleasure?

"It was only two buttons, and I didn't have the heart to stop you." His voice teased, but Juliana remained torn between mortification and dangerous exhilaration.

"Are we here, then, Mrs. Burnham?" Rupert didn't sound even remotely embarrassed to have been found in such a state of
dishabille
. Juliana, on the other hand, couldn't have formed a coherent sentence just then if she'd been under threat of death.

Mrs. Burnham made no audible reply, but Juliana could imagine the scathing look the woman gave Rupert. Then he chuckled. Even she, who'd known Mrs. Burnham since she'd been in nappies, cowered at the sight of one of the older woman's glowers. Yet Rupert seemed completely unaffected.

Muttering, Juliana said, "You're touched in the head, aren't you? The doctor said permanent mental damage. We didn't see it because you're so difficult to read. We're doomed."

She stopped talking when Rupert reached over and shut the carriage door in Mrs. Burnham's face.

"Juliana, can I have a word with you before we step out there?"

****

His jewel stared at her fingernails with intense fascination. "Juliana?" Next, her cuticles received her scrutiny. When she reached for her reticule – for some feminine instrument of torture no doubt – he took her hands in his. "Look at me."

Rupert stared deeply into her eyes and could have sworn the clouds parted and the sun shone through clear to his soul. "Before we go out there, I need to know whether or not you'll agree to marry me. If you want more time, you have to tell me now."

"Why?"

"Why what?"

She looked over toward the carriage door. "What's out there?"

"Does it matter?"

A shy smile lit her face, and her eyes skittered away again. He wanted to pull her into his arms and hold her close.

Who are you kidding?

He wanted to kiss every inch of the skin he could see, and then…

"Yes."

"Huh?"
What did she say?

"Yes. I'll marry you."

All the air left the carriage as he struggled to keep his senses about him and find the words. "Are you sure?"

She laughed at him. "So now you're trying to talk me out of it? Is that how this works?"

Without thought, he reached down and rubbed at the lingering ache in his leg. The days in the carriage had not been entirely kind to his still-recovering muscles.

Before he could think of a rejoinder, her hand was on his thigh, replacing his. She kneaded the muscle, rubbed away the soreness, and spread heat through him until he was sure his muscles had melted into plum pudding.

"Mmm." His life was complete. He'd loved. Been loved. Fought. He'd lost some, but he'd won more. Most importantly, he'd met Juliana. Everything else he'd ever accomplished paled by comparison, and all those experiences on the horizon – every single day yet to be lived – would be measured against the joy of having Juliana in his life.

Rupert's eyes drifted closed, and he savored the moment, wanting to commit it to memory so he'd never forget the selfless touch of his jewel.

Her hands left his leg, and he felt their absence keenly. Before he opened his eyes in protest, her fingers fluttered along his cheeks, caressing his jaw, stroking across his lips.

"Yes." The word came breathless, a whisper beside his ear. The brush of her lips against his hair, offering him the barest of touch, tantalized him with its promise.

"Yes?" His eyes remained closed. He knew if he opened them and saw her this close to him, so enticing, he wouldn't be able to stop himself from kissing her again, and this time he'd been smart enough to drop the carriage door lock into place. There would be no interruptions.

Her lips skimmed over his, a caress, yet not quite. "Yes, I'll marry you."

Rupert reached up and tugged on his cravat. "Perhaps we should vacate the carriage then. I find it's a mite bit warm in here at the moment."

Music filled the air as she gave a throaty laugh. "I believe I shall enjoy learning what it feels like to be married to you, my lord."

****

They stepped into the sunlight, and Juliana was taken aback to see they were at the chapel near Chakal Manor.

"It's about time, sister!" Eleanor's cheeky remark rolled off Juliana. Tomorrow she would lecture on decorum. Today she couldn't very well pull it off.

Juliana had come to understand a thing or two about Rupert. He didn't share himself with ease, but when he did, it was completely. Hiding his thoughts and being secretive was so natural to him, a person couldn't truly know him by what he said. The best way to judge him was by his actions.

They had shown up on his doorstep, frantic with worry but trying to act as if everything was fine, and he'd taken them in, even knowing it put him at risk for being exposed. True, he'd tried to send them away at first, but once he'd realized they had nowhere to go, he'd accepted the danger to himself and opened his home and heart to them.

He'd seen clear through her and had known she hid something, but he'd not ever threatened her or tried to coerce her into confessing her secret. Instead, he'd waited for her to trust him enough to tell him about the peril they faced from those blasted betrothal contracts. Once he realized what they were fleeing from, he took her side and did everything in his power to protect the girls and keep them out the clutches of the Stanwich brothers.

They'd traveled from Northumberland to London, and he'd made sure someone was stationed outside their room at each inn and tavern along the way to keep them safe. She wouldn't have ever known if it hadn't been for the incident with the brothers' henchmen. Rupert had made their safety his priority, even though it caused him sleepless nights and stiff sore muscles the next day.

He hadn't accepted Uncle Fitzwilliam's death as ordinary, either. He'd listened to everything they'd said about Fitz's strange behavior, and rather than dismiss them as hysterical, he'd worked on the puzzle until he'd figured out how the pieces fit together. He wasn't a man who gave up or quit easily.

In the clearing at Hyde Park, he'd stepped out, facing certain death, so she and Claire could get to safety. He'd left Owen behind, making himself less protected so Eudora and Eleanor would be more protected. Even with two bullet holes in him, when he'd thought his life was at its end, he'd tried to protect the Duke of Sheffield. Then she'd thought she was going to lose him. As he was fading away in her arms, his last words had been for her.
My Jewel
.

He was a praying man, too. She'd learned much of the intimate relationship Rupert shared with the Almighty during his days of fevered delirium. He'd said many things about God through the course of those days, but two had stayed with Juliana more than all the others. Rupert thought of God as a friend… and as his refuge. A woman of her advanced years – or any age for that matter – could do much worse than a man who had a personal relationship with his Creator.