After the Abduction (29 page)

With a sigh, he sank onto the bed beside her and gathered her stiff, resisting body against his chest. “I’m not making myself very clear, am I?” Stroking her hair from her brow, he stared down into her eyes warmly. “I’ve been alone here for a long time, discontented with my existence without really knowing why. Then you came to shake everything up, and I realized what I’d been missing was you.”

She held her breath as the hurt subsided a little.

Idly, he wound a lock of her hair about his hand. “Don’t misunderstand me—I love Charnwood. I much prefer it to the crowds and nonsense of London.” He kissed the lock of hair. “But it’s empty and quiet and lonely. It needs a mistress. It needs children.”

Hardly daring to hope, she turned her face up to his. “And what about you? What do you need?”

“I need you,” he said simply. Then his mouth was on hers, tempting her with his need, sucking her under into that secret, intimate place where nothing mattered but him.

When he drew back, they were both gasping.

He held her so close she felt his heart pound. “This past week has been agony, knowing you were here but I couldn’t talk to you or touch you or kiss you. I stood outside your room every morning debating whether to tell you the truth.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“I couldn’t stand the thought that you might push me away once you heard it.”

She snuggled up close to him. “I’m not pushing you away now.”

“No, thank God.” His hands stroked up and down her arms, dislodging the sheet. “I couldn’t bear it if you did.”

“So you must love me at least a little,” she whispered against his broad and very masculine chest.

He froze. Then he gently slipped from her embrace, holding himself apart from her. Obvious unease knit his brow into a frown. “Juliet, I…I do feel a great deal of affection for you. But don’t expect more than that from me. I’m not really a passionate person. It’s nothing to do with you. It’s just…how I am.” He flashed her a faint smile. “You weren’t far wrong when you thought me too dull and respectable for passion.”

“I don’t think you dull at all, and you certainly don’t lack passion. But we’re not talking about passion; we’re talking about love, a different thing altogether.” She’d hoped what they’d done might change his odd ideas. Knowing that it hadn’t unsettled and disappointed her. “You’re perfectly capable of feeling love if you’d only let yourself.”

His jaw went taut. “And why should I? It’s a reckless emotion that only wreaks havoc. It’s called ‘falling in love’ for a reason, you know—because it’s as uncontrollable and unpredictable as falling. I’d be a fool to let myself be sucked into the whirlwind.”

“Yes, but whirlwinds can be thrilling, too. And marriage is far pleasanter between two people who love each other.”

He eyed her askance. “How do you know? From what you’ve heard, from what a lot of wild-eyed poets claim?”

She ducked her head to stare at the sheet. “I’ve seen how my sisters and their husbands behave when they’re in love. And I’ve heard how my parents were together.”

He gave a little mocking laugh. “My parents were in love, too. But it didn’t make their marriage easier, I assure
you. All it did was give them an excuse for abandoning their responsibilities.”

“But if they truly loved each other…”

“I didn’t say they loved
each other.
” Crossing his arms over his chest, he stared off with the cool remoteness of a stranger. “That would have been too tidy, I suppose.”

Pain shimmered in his voice, ragged and deep, despite his efforts to hide it behind an expression of iron detachment. “As I told you, my father fell in love with a different woman every month. My mother…”

He swallowed convulsively, and she dearly wanted to reach over and cradle him in her arms, kiss away all his hurts. But he looked too unapproachable for that just now. “My mother left my father for her lover. Left
me
for her lover. She abandoned her family, separated me from my only brother, and ignored all duty, responsibility, and good sense because she fell prey to love. And all for a man who abandoned her within a year, according to my uncle.”

His gaze swung back to her, brimming with hurt. “So don’t ask me for love. I wouldn’t show you so little respect as to offer you
that
fickle emotion. Unlike my parents, I’m not blown this way and that by every storm of romantic feeling. What I offer is infinitely better—a secure future, a lifelong devotion to you and our children, the promise that I’ll always act in your best interest. What I offer is steady and dependable.”

“And very respectable,” she said sarcastically.

“Yes. I happen not to find that a dirty word.”

He looked so insulted that she softened her tone. “Sebastian, why can’t there be both? Love
and
responsibility. They needn’t be mutually exclusive, you know.”

“And you’ve deduced that from your vast experience, have you?”

She colored, then glanced away. “I was in love once, remember?”

“Which only got you into trouble.”

She smiled despite the gravity of their conversation. “I can’t believe you’d chide me for
that.
Especially when you worked so hard to make me fall in love with you then.”

“That’s not true. I was only trying to coax you into running away with me. You were the one who fell in love, and what did it bring you but heartache?”

She couldn’t bear to admit he might be right on that score, so she said nothing.

“And you learned that lesson yourself,” he went on, “or you’d have spoken of your suitors differently. You never said you rejected them because you didn’t love them. You complained about this character trait or that, but you didn’t speak of love. Because by then you’d learned the truth: that a good husband is more likely to be found among men of irreproachable character than among men who inspire some dubious emotion.”

That remark about her suitors hit painfully close to the truth. She
hadn’t
been looking for love among them. But was it because she’d learned her lesson? Or because she’d still been in love with
him
?

Still
was
in love with him. She groaned. Goodness gracious, what was wrong with her? After all that had happened, she was as much a captive to his perilous appeal as ever. And he didn’t even love her! For all she knew, he really was incapable of love.

She glanced up into his face, only to be met by a stark, needy expression that gave her pause. No, he
was
capable of love. But he seemed to fear it; he worried that if he gave in to it, it would leave him gutted and alone, as his parents had left him loveless and friendless.

So he sat there speaking of duty and honor and responsibility, all the while not quite able to hide his yearning for something more.

“What are you proposing then, Sebastian? A marriage of convenience?”

“No!” He gave the refusal so forcefully it sparked hope in her heart. “Not of convenience. That sounds more formal than I want. I do care for you, Juliet.” The melting softness in his eyes made her ache. “And desire you. I want a marriage where we can enjoy each other, keep each other company. Share a bed. I want that very much.”

She caught her breath. She wanted all of that and love, too, but that would have to wait until she could show him that he needn’t fear it. In the meantime, however, she would settle for his version of marriage. Because she truly believed it would turn into more eventually.

“Very well,” she whispered. “Far be it from me to deny you what you want.”

The relief in his face made him look positively boyish. “Then you’ll marry me?”

His pleasure was infectious. She laughed. “Yes, I’ll marry you, you devil.”

With a growl of satisfaction, he lunged for her, and then he was kissing her and pressing her back onto the sheets and having his “wicked way with her” once more. This time was even better than before, because she knew what to expect, how to act.

It was glorious, simply glorious. He might not speak words of love or claim to adore her, but she could feel his adoration in every touch, feel his love in every kiss. That was enough for now.

When they were done and lay tangled in the sheets and each other’s arms, he whispered against her ear, “Much as I enjoy this, sweeting, we dare not linger much longer. Unless you want your family to find us here together.”

“I suppose that wouldn’t do,” she said with faint regret. “It’ll be bad enough when you speak to Griff about marrying me.”

He groaned and rolled away from her. “Don’t remind me. Your brother-in-law doesn’t like me at all, I’m afraid.”

She chuckled. “I hadn’t noticed.”

“Impudent minx.” He threw a pillow at her before leaving the bed to search for his drawers. “No doubt you’ve enjoyed watching him bait me and grouse at me and make vague threats to do me in.”

“A little. You deserved it, after all.”

He raised an eyebrow as he dragged on his drawers and fastened them. “You’ve become quite the bloodthirsty wench since I first met you.”

“You have only yourself to blame for that,” she teased.

Pulling on his trousers, he cast her a rueful smile. “How well I know.”

“But soon it will all be over—this nastiness between you and Griff. Once we marry, he can hardly treat you badly. The tricky part will be convincing him and my father to allow the marriage after what you did to me.”

“By bedding you? Some things are better left secret, sweeting, don’t you think?”

She blushed. As if she could ever tell her father or Griff such a thing! “I meant the kidnapping. Once you explain why you did it, he may make a fuss, but—”

“I’m sure he’ll make more than a ‘fuss.’” He donned his shirt and tucked the tails in his trousers. “That’s precisely why I’m not telling him any of that. Not yet, anyway.”

She stared at him, her heart giving a little lurch. “Wh-what do you mean?”

“Just what I said. Until we’re married and Morgan is safely back in England, I’m not telling your brother-in-law a blasted thing.” Suddenly, he glanced up and saw her expression. A small frown creased his brow. “Surely you didn’t expect me to.”

Feeling suddenly exposed and vulnerable before him, she sat up and hugged her knees to her chest. “I most certainly did!”

“Why?” He buttoned up the vee of his shirt, then his cuffs. “It will only make more trouble. What would be the point?”

“The
point
is that we’re going to marry. The
point
is that you’ll be part of my family. So before we rush into anything so serious, I think you owe them an explanation about how we really met and why you did what you did!”

His lips thinned. “And they’ll hear one. As soon as Morgan returns and I’m sure he’s safe.”

She drew herself up and prepared for battle. “Then I’m afraid we have a problem.”

Chapter 17

Be thine own palace, or the world’s thy jail.

John Donne’s “To Sir Henry Wotton,” worked

badly on a hanging by Rosalind Laverick at thirteen

S
ebastian’s blood curdled at those words. “What kind of problem?”

“I can’t possibly marry you without their knowing the truth. We’ll have to wait to marry until your brother returns.”

“The devil we will!” He stared at her, completely taken aback. “He might not return for weeks, even months! Morgan wrote that he wasn’t sure how long it would be. For God’s sake, I don’t even know where he is or how he plans to get back!”

She watched him with cool, assessing eyes. “So you want me to live a lie until then, no matter how long it takes. I’m supposed to marry you and keep secret the fact that you’re the one whose actions hurt my family and nearly ruined me.”

By thunder, but the woman knew how to put things so they drove a stake through his conscience. “It’s better than the alternative.”

“For you, perhaps, but not for me.” She slid off the bed and tugged her chemise back on. “I’ve suffered two years of believing that I’d been entirely wrong about your character—that I’d fallen in love with a scoundrel. I doubted myself, but even worse, my family doubted me, too. The very least you can do is set their minds at ease and prove I wasn’t wrong to believe in you. So when you’re ready to do that, I shall marry you, and not a moment before.”

His stomach sank. He hadn’t realized till this very moment how much he’d counted on her marrying him at once. Blast, she was taking this all wrong. He had to talk sense into her.

He stalked to where she stood with her chemise hanging open. The flash of her lovely breasts momentarily distracted him. Only with an effort did he lift his gaze to her face. “Hear me out, Juliet. I’m not asking you to keep silent out of some perverse desire to make you miserable. I have good reasons for my caution.”

She raised one eyebrow. “Oh? And what might those reasons be?”

“For one thing, I’m in the midst of a sticky negotiation with the Navy Board for my brother’s pardon. I can’t have that jeopardized just now.”

Crossing her arms over her chest, she glared at him. “And how would that be jeopardized by your telling my family the truth, pray tell?”

“That should be obvious. Your brother-in-law already said he’d ruin your kidnapper if he got the chance.”

“First of all, my kidnapper is
you,
not Morgan, so Morgan won’t be harmed at all. For that matter, neither will you. When Griff hears your story he’s sure to relent in his urge for vengeance. He’s a fair man.”

He laughed harshly. “Have you forgotten how he reacted when he first laid eyes on me and you said I was Morgan?”

“He didn’t know the whole story—”

“He didn’t care, either. He still doesn’t—even I can see that. The day he came to my study, he told me he’d do all in his power to ruin your kidnapper. That would certainly include going after my feckless brother to punish me. And I highly doubt any amount of persuasion will change his mind.”

“Yet you aren’t worried about how he’ll take the news
after
we marry.”

He shrugged. “By then it won’t matter. Once Morgan is safe, let Griff do as he wishes.”