Captive Scoundrel (23 page)

“No! He’s been ill all day and has just now gone to sleep.”

“But Vincent is concerned.”

Like a snake whose venom has gone to water. “If we disturb him, there’ll be no Christmas for Beth.” Her voice’s reflexive tremble, though caused by fear, made her seem near tears.

Hemsted’s look softened. “Or for you?”

She nodded, and to keep him from seeing her relief, she regarded his hand on the knob.

He removed it. “Another day then. I did tell Vincent I would check his brother’s progress.”

“You may tell him there is none.” Faith looked at her hands. “I fear Justin will not….” It was impossible to say the words.

Hemsted touched her hand. “Vincent will be sad to hear it.”

She examined his expression to see if he believed what he said. Was he a party to Vincent’s scheme? But true and deep regret etched his features, leaving Faith no wiser, but the flash of perception she caught disturbed her. She cleared her throat. “If you will excuse us, it’s nearly time to put Beth to bed.”

“No!” Beth knocked on Justin’s door. “Poppy play.”

Faith lifted Beth in her arms. “She wants her papa.”

With sincere regret, Hemsted nodded and said good night.

Faith locked the door behind him and released a slow breath.

When she opened Justin’s door, his fury was startling. “I forbid you to encourage him.”

“Justin, I…” What could she say?

Beth threw herself at Justin’s legs and he lifted her up.

Faith touched his arm. “He meant no harm.”

“He’s Vincent’s man!”

“Yes.” Faith stared at Beth’s top on the floor, feeling as abandoned, but Justin hugged her too and desolation vanished.

“I would as lief throw that TOP in the fire.”

“She likes it.”

“I was afraid she would.”

Faith was charmed by his chagrin. “She’ll love what we have for her too. Come. I have a special evening planned.”

“So do I.” Justin’s look warmed her.

After Beth opened her gifts, Justin set her carousel-horse down and tugged its cord; the head bobbed and the legs trotted. Beth was so happy, she ignored her doll, until Faith showed her she could carry it while she pulled her horse. A short while later, both in tow, Beth climbed into her father’s lap.

“Our first Christmas as a family,” Faith said. “I hope Beth will always remember tonight.”

“She’ll have better memories in future,” Justin promised.

“I remember eight barefoot children in nightclothes, singing outside our parents’ door at dawn on Christmas morning.”

“It must have been great to be part of a big family.”

“Your family now, too.”

He kissed her brow and shifted Beth. “Vincent and I rarely participated in Christmas celebrations. But one year, when our cousin, Justin Reddington, lived with us, during an adult play, a scene called for bird sounds. So we freed a sack of morning doves over the stage. But they were nervous after being bagged—and Cousin Kate’s screams didn’t help—and, well, they made a mess. It took days to get them all outside. Mrs. Tucker lit into us every time she found a memento of their visit.”

Faith laughed. “You had cousin who was also named, Justin. That must have been confusing.”

“Yes.”

Faith sensed Justin’s reticence. “Tell me more.”

“Uncle Hal always trod on Aunt Sophie’s train during rehearsal, so Vincent clipped the stitches in the waist right before the actual play. Aunt Sophie had eliminated her petticoats on so warm a night, and when the skirt fell, she fainted. Uncle Hal laughed himself sick, and we went without supper for days.”

“It’s hard to believe you and Vincent were friends.”

“The three of us were friends, before Justin was sent to America. After that, Vincent and I got along somewhat, until he turned sixteen and woke one day hating everyone, especially me.”

Faith smoothed his furrowed brow with a finger. “I’m sorry, Justin.”

“Bedtime for my girl,” he said, disliking her sympathy, revealing how deeply he’d been hurt by Vincent’s rancour. When Beth woke and wanted her top, Justin’s dismay was comical.

Once Beth was settled, they tucked into their adult feast.

Justin placed a small laden table before the settee and rubbed his hands together. “I hope Mrs. Tucker was generous.”

“I told her I loved holiday fare. There’s more than enough.”

Justin devoured everything down to the plum pudding. “That was delicious. The only thing missing was Boar’s head.”

Faith wrinkled her nose. “Ugh.”

“I like singing as the Boar’s head is brought in.

Faith put her arms around him. “Sing the song every year if you wish, but never make me serve it.”

“Every year,” Justin said, wistfully. He raised their single glass of wine. “To future Yuletides.”

“Justin, I have something for you, sort of.”

Justin’s surprise was apparent. “When did you have an opportunity to find something? We were never apart.”

“It was easier to acquire than I would have imagined.”

Justin shook his head. “Contrary as ever.”

“I’m not contrary, I’m tenacious. Papa said so.”

“Obstinate, and I say so.”

“And so I can be. Now guess.”

“Just let me see it.”

She shook her head. “No, first guess what it is.”

“This could take all night.”

“We have nothing better to do,” she said.

One aristocratic brow rose. “Oh, don’t we?”

Warmed by the promise in his look, Faith shivered. “Guess.”

He pulled her to his lap—Every man’s Christmas dream, Hemsted was right. Justin coaxed her with kisses. “Tell me,” he said. She placed her hands on his chest, and warmth flowed through him, his heart beating faster. “Tell me.” God how he wanted her.

Her eyes closed slowly. “I…forget the question.”

Lord, he didn’t want to get ahead of himself here. “In that case…” He placed a tiny box in her hand. “Happy Christmas, sweetheart.”

After a surprised moment, she lifted the lid. In the box nestled his mother’s ring, an emerald surrounded by diamonds. Rare and beautiful, like his wife.

Faith sat, speechless, as he slipped it on her finger. “The stone matches your eyes, though it has fewer facets.” He lifted the beringed hand to his lips. “I have a confession. I fetched it the night you thought I was abducted. It was my mother’s.”

Predictably, she bristled. “I should beat you.”

He sought her lips. Drank. Savoured. “Yes, beat me, please.”

Faith sat back, breathless. She held her hand near the candle to examine the ring, turning it to catch the light. “From mother to son. A good tradition.”

“I don’t expect to have a son.” Justin brought her against him and tightened his arms about her. “I’ve yet to receive my surprise, though I like the one in my arms.”

She sat back. “All right. Here’s a hint. It’s something you think never to have.”

“My freedom from this apartment?”

Faith stood, smoothing bodice and skirt, making him ache to do the same. She shook her head, her hair settling about her shoulders in wild disarray.

“To hell with my surprise.” He reached for her.

She stepped back. “Your surprise, Justin.”

“Tenacious as ever,” he said, exasperated. “Are you hiding it on your person then? And I’m to search for it? God’s teeth, that will be more fun than receiving it.”

Impatient, Faith placed Justin’s hands on her abdomen. “Behold the package wherein lies your surprise.” She watched his expression change, sober.

“A son?” he whispered.

Tell me you love me. Now. It’s time now.

Justin remained quiet, astonished. Faith’s sense of anticipation fled, became unease, apprehension. He couldn’t say he loved her, because he didn’t. Perhaps he didn’t want another child. She lost her joy. “What say you? About the baby, I mean?”

“What say I? You mean, what should we do?” Doubt, anger, clouded his expression.

Faith turned away so he wouldn’t see her tears. He didn’t want another baby. He hadn’t even wanted her…not for herself.

“Would you have the baby?” he asked.

He wasn’t making sense. “I don’t see that I have a choice.”

He started as if struck. “I can’t believe this is happening again.”

Aching to heal the unnamed breach between them, determined to make him share her joy over their child, Faith touched his arm. But he stood as if he couldn’t bear her touch.

She wanted this baby, desperately, and she needed to make him see how wonderful it would be. “Justin, I realize this will seem more curse than blessing when I begin to swell and people wonder how a near-dead man could—”

“Is that why you don’t want our child?”

Vincent swirled the brandy in his glass while he watched his wife, Aline Lamontagne Devereux, bat her kohl-lined eyes and flash her painted smile at every creature with a rod.

At least she amused him. This party was a bore. France was a bore. And Bergerac was a mole on the backside of a toad.

It was time to go home. To Killashandra.

Justin stood by the window watching Beth frolic in the snow with her nursemaid.

“What are they doing?” Faith asked from her bed, her colour rivalling the white linens, except for the circles under her eyes.

“They’re making snow angels.”

“Stay back,” Faith said. “If Beth sees you, she’ll call or wave, and Sally will see you too.”

He sighed and stepped away. “I missed so much of her life, I hate to miss anymore.”

Smoothing the tiniest mound that was their child, Faith looked away. She’d been so sick with her pregnancy, Justin feared she must want the babe even less.

“Justin, you could love another child that much, couldn’t you?”

Did she want to give him this child as Catherine wanted to give him Beth? So she could be free? “Could I?” He wasn’t ready to let her know he’d take it, because she was breaking him, and he wanted to do some damage, himself.

A tear landed on her pillow. Another followed.

Justin couldn’t understand her pain, but it seared him.

“It doesn’t matter,” she whispered. “You won’t have to put yourself out.”

He sat on her bed, but stopped himself from taking her in his arms. “What are you talking about?”

“I’ve been bleeding since this morning. I’m going to lose the baby.” She curled into a tight ball and began to sob.

A knife pierced Justin’s heart. Their baby was going to die. The child that was part of her. “Oh, Faith.” He held her the way he’d wanted to since Christmas. All these weeks she’d refused to tell him why she didn’t want their child. When he’d ask, she’d say the same, “If only you could trust.”

It frustrated the hell out of him. He hadn’t been talking about trust; he’d been talking about their baby, damn it.

Why didn’t she want their baby?

And why was she crying because she might lose it?

Then the revelation came…and it hit him hard. She’d been so angry he doubted her, she’d refused to answer. She wanted him to trust her to love their child. “Shh, sweetheart, shh. You’ll hurt yourself and you’ll increase the danger of losing the baby.”

She looked at him with teary eyes. Eyes filled with hope.