“What the
hell
do you think you’re doing?” he snarled between gritted teeth.
Reining in her dappled mare, Jennifer stared at him in blank surprise. She had thought herself used to his unpredictable rages by now, yet she found herself bewildered by this unexpected display of anger. After all, he had avoided her for days. Why in the world had he sought her out and chosen to fight with her this afternoon? “What—what do you mean?”
“Get off that mare,” Grey thundered.
Jennifer looked at him in confusion. She was riding the same gray mare she always rode.
“Get off her now, or I will drag you from her back.”
Sensing he meant it, but nevertheless completely baffled, Jennifer dismounted and stood looking up at him. “Why are you being so unreasonable?” she burst out angrily.
“
Unreasonable?
” Grey repeated scathingly. “On the contrary, I thought I was being infinitely reasonable. If I ever see you on this mare’s back again while you are in this condition, I will show you what an unreasonable husband looks like.”
“This—condition?”
Grey exploded, “Don’t you realize that if you were to fall, you could lose the baby?”
Jennifer stared at him in shock. Such a thing had never occurred to her. She had not realized that she had been unnecessarily risking a life that had become very precious to her. The thought of losing the baby sent a cold chill down her spine. “No,” she said dully. “No, I didn’t realize.”
“You could have lost the baby,” Grey elaborated angrily, “and you yourself could have been killed. Women die of miscarriages, Jennifer! Is that what you want?”
Jennifer felt herself growing angry at his autocratic tone. She had been foolish, she realized now—but he was being so self-righteous! How dared he, after the things he had said to her when she had told him she was pregnant? “And would you have cared?” she lashed back at him. “You said you didn’t want the baby, and you certainly don’t want
me. If I were to fall from the horse, that would end all your problems, wouldn’t it?”
Grey stared at her, his features hardening into stone. “Is that what this is all about? Were you
trying
to lose the baby?”
Belatedly, Jennifer realized that it could seem that way to him. “No, of course not,” she said in what she hoped was a more conciliatory tone. “I simply didn’t—”
“You
were
trying to miscarry,” Grey insisted, and she knew he hadn’t heard a word of her protest. He had tried and convicted her on the basis of her three angry sentences. “Damn it, Jennifer, how dare you try to do such a thing?”
“I was not trying to lose the baby!” Jennifer interjected. “I simply didn’t think.”
Grey looked down at her, his eyes granite-gray with emotion. “Perhaps you didn’t think. Or perhaps you didn’t care about the baby. Either way, you won’t get another chance. The slaves at the stable have been instructed not to let you ride your mare until after the baby is born. You won’t be permitted on a horse—
any
horse, even the most placid nag in my stables—until then.”
“How dare you—”
“I dare,” Grey interrupted in a voice like steel, “because that is
my
baby, and
my
heir, that you are carrying. You have a duty to protect it. And since you seem to have abdicated that duty, through either stupidity or carelessness, I am forced to step in. Don’t try to ride a horse again until the baby is born.” At her mutinous expression, he added softly, but with a world of menace in his tone, “Don’t defy me, Jennifer. Or you will regret it, trust me.”
With that he whirled his stallion about and cantered down the path, leading the gray mare with him. Jennifer turned back to the house, fuming.
Grey, for his part, was equally disturbed. When Jennifer had first told him that she was expecting, he had been horrified at the notion of becoming a father, painfully aware
that he would be a far worse father than his own had been. And yet he found that he wanted a child, a boy to carry on his name, or a girl to hold on his lap and spoil with a thousand presents. And when he had gone to the stable to ride and found that Jennifer had ridden out, had in fact been riding every day, unbeknownst to him, he had realized that the part of him that wanted a child was stronger than the part that feared parenthood. The fact that he was going to have a child meant the world to him.
And that Jennifer was going to bear his child meant even more. The thought that she could have been hurt in her condition was too painful to contemplate. He could have lost everything he held dear, the baby …
And his wife.
Somehow, over the past year, she had insinuated herself into his soul and become dear to him. Somehow, despite his efforts to remain remote, he had come to live for the all-too-brief moments during the day when he could spend time with her. Probably he should have told her so, that she meant something to him, that she was the reason his life had become worth living again. She was the light in the darkness, the star that lit the gloom he had lived in for so long.
He should have
told
her.
When Grey had ridden off, without so much as a goodbye, Jennifer turned back toward Greyhaven. It was a long walk, especially in her condition, but she did not care. The last thing she wanted was to return to the house and risk seeing her husband. She was so angry she might have struck him.
Struggling to calm herself, she walked slowly through the forest. The woods were starkly beautiful, the bare branches still lightly dusted with the snow that had fallen a week before. Here and there the red berries of the wild holly, or the scarlet flash of a cardinal flying through the trees, gave color to the scene.
Jennifer walked on, her mind occupied with thoughts of Grey. He had insulted her viciously, infuriated her intentionally, and yet it was all she could do not to forgive him for his heartless words. She had realized, when she first glanced up and saw him astride his bay stallion, just how much she missed him. She had seen him only twice in a fortnight, and she had to admit that she longed for his company. Her life was very lonely without him.
But she would
not
forgive him, she decided firmly. His words had been too dreadful to forget. He must never know how much she missed him. Her pride forbade it.
In fact, she told herself, she would never voluntarily speak to him again. Of course, she had agreed to behave civilly for the duration of the O’Neills’ visit. But that was all she would do. She would not seek his company out. She could not. He had angered and hurt her too badly.
It was dreadful to contemplate never speaking to one’s own husband again, she thought, sighing. Forever was a very long time. Something Catherine had once said came back to her.
If things continue as they are, you will grow to loathe the sight of your own husband.
Catherine, she mused, had been right. She did loathe him. And yet she could not stop her heart from leaping whenever she saw him.…
William’s sudden excited yapping startled Jennifer from her bleak thoughts. Turning, she saw the spaniel dancing, his stubby tail wagging furiously, at the feet of Christopher Lightfoot. “Good day,” Christopher said, his dark eyes fastened on her face.
“Hello,” she answered uncertainly, eyeing him with curiosity. He was not dressed as finely as he had been for the rout, but his clothes were fashionable enough. His shirt was laden with large quantities of lace at the front and on his sleeves, and he wore a dark bobwig. She noted with amusement that he was trying without much success to keep William from jumping up on him and ruining his silk stockings. William loved everyone without reservation and invariably demonstrated it by leaping against their legs.
Christopher nodded in the direction Grey had disappeared. “He’s quite frightening when he’s in this mood, is he not?”
“Were you spying on us?” Jennifer snapped heatedly, mortified by the realization that he had heard her quarreling with Grey.
“Spying? No, I shouldn’t call it that. I watch you often as you walk through the woods, my dear. I simply happened to overhear your exchange with your husband.”
The knowledge that Christopher had been watching her with his intense dark blue eyes made Jennifer uncomfortable, but she strove to conceal her unease. “This is private land,” she said haughtily. “Please leave at once.”
“No.”
“Leave! Or I shall—”
“What shall you do, my dear?” Stepping closer to her, Christopher caught her arm and looked down into her eyes. “Report my actions to your husband? I should think you would be more frightened of him than of me. After all, he is a murderer.”
“I don’t believe you!” Jennifer snapped as she yanked her arm from his grasp.
“Don’t you?”
Jennifer blinked as tears burned in her eyes. “I don’t know what to believe,” she whispered. “I really don’t.”
God help her, she actually was entertaining the notion that Grey could be a murderer. And what was she to think, after his most recent display of temper? The memory of Catherine’s words struck her painfully, and she lowered her head. “I don’t know what to believe,” she murmured again.
“I’m sorry, my dear,” Christopher said gently. “I hate to be so blunt, but I feel that you should be aware of the facts, unpleasant though they are. Especially since you are carrying his child. Grey is in sober truth a murderer.”
“It was never proven.” Her whispered protest was barely spoken aloud. “You can’t be certain.”
“But I am certain. And so are you.”
From some inner store of strength and faith Jennifer rallied, lifting her chin and staring at him with as much hauteur as she could manage. “No,” she said firmly, pushing away her doubts. “I am not certain. And I want you off Greyson land. Now.”
Christopher eyed her with amusement and another emotion. Good heavens, was that lust she saw in his eyes? Perhaps that explained why he had been watching her. “I do not wish to leave,” he said. “I have a proposition for you, my dear.”
“A—proposition?” she repeated, uncertain as to whether she’d heard him correctly.
“Yes. I’ve been watching you for quite some time, and I find you extremely attractive. I would like you to give consideration to becoming my mistress.”
Jennifer stared at him in mingled fury and annoyance, then turned on her heel and marched away without deigning to answer. His mocking laughter followed her.
“Just think about it,” he called after her. “When you find that you can no longer bear your husband’s moodiness, when you can no longer stand the loneliness and the emptiness of your life, send me a note and I will be at your disposal.”
Despising the man for his arrogance, Jennifer turned back and called to William, who with the typical lack of discrimination of a spaniel was still eagerly fawning over the odious man. She directed a look of distaste at Christopher as the dog ran up to her.
“I’d sooner rot in hell than become your mistress.”
Christopher laughed at her as she stalked away. “Why, Mistress Greyson,” he called, “didn’t you know?”
She ignored him and walked away rapidly, but she all too clearly heard his last words.
“My dear girl, you already are in hell.”
The O’Neill family arrived later that afternoon, while Jennifer was sulking in her chamber and Grey sat morosely
in his study. The quiet gloom that was the normal state of Greyhaven was shattered suddenly by the cheerful babble of the O’Neill clan in the entrance hall and William’s excited yapping. Startled by the unusual racket, Jennifer came down the stairs at the same moment that Grey emerged from his study.
Standing on the landing next to the tall case clock, Jennifer looked down on the chaotic scene below. Kayne O’Neill, an enormous bear of a man, stood next to his stunningly beautiful wife, Sapphira, his red head bent over her dark one as he laughed in response to some comment she had made. Around them stood their three youngest children, a redheaded girl who was just developing the curves of a woman and a pair of identical, dark-haired girls perhaps eight years old, all chattering like squirrels. They were the picture of a happy family, and Jennifer felt an odd tug at her heart as her traitorous imagination painted a portrait of herself standing next to Grey, his arm protectively around her as he smiled down at her, their laughing children surrounding them.
Shaking her head to clear it of the ludicrously sentimental image, she saw Carey, standing off to the side, a little apart from his family. He was watching her with an expression of stunned interest, and as her eyes met his he smiled very slightly. Jennifer smiled back, overcome with joy to see a friendly face. It had been well over a year since she had seen him, yet she felt a wave of sisterly affection at the sight of him. Unlike Grey, she thought, Carey had always been kind to her. She started down the stairs eagerly.
Grey, who was shaking Kayne’s hand, looked even more sour than usual at the arrival of this noisy clan in his quiet home. Nonetheless, he grudgingly introduced Jennifer. “This is my wife, whom you may remember from our, er, wedding. This is Kayne O’Neill, his wife, Sapphira, and Carey, their eldest son. The rest of them”—and he bent a look of disgust on the younger children that almost caused Kayne to lose his gravity—“are altogether too noisy to
bother with. Good Lord, Kayne, can’t you keep the brats under better control?”
“I see you’re as charming as ever,” Kayne said calmly, not at all offended by this slur to his offspring. “Simply because your head aches from last night’s excesses—”
“My head aches from the damned noise!”
“—is no reason to shout at my daughters. You are, as always, simply looking for a reason to complain.”
Grey scowled darkly. “Haven’t I got a right to complain? The six of you descending on my home like a plague of locusts, utterly shattering the peace and quiet, and yelping like a pack of hounds—tell me why I shouldn’t complain!”
Jennifer found that she was beginning to become embarrassed by her husband’s rude behavior. Even Grey rarely became this offensive. Had she known that Grey had invited the O’Neills to visit, she would have been utterly humiliated by his rudeness. Stealing a timid glance at the O’Neills, however, she was surprised to see them all grinning. Apparently Grey was expected to grumble, but none of them took him seriously.