Fantasy 03 - Double Fantasy (22 page)

Jamie was about to start in with another ribald, offensive remark that would have had Jack out of his chair and eager for an all-out brawl, but an altercation was avoided because Sarah stepped onto the verandah.

Jamie peered over at her and grinned. He had the look

of the devil in his eye. Jack had seen that look before, and he knew it well. If Jamie could stir up trouble, he would, and there was no predicting what he might say.

Jack braced for a catastrophe.

"Hello, Miss Carstairs," Jamie welcomed, as he and Jack stood.

"Hello, Lord Gladstone." She was as formal as if they'd been loitering in a fussy London drawing room.

"Are you ever going to let me call you Sarah?" Jamie inquired.

"Probably not," she coolly replied.

Jamie laughed at the insult and gestured to the chair across from him. "Won't you join us?"

"I'm sure she'd rather not," Jack quickly interjected, and he flashed such a churlish glare at Sarah that he was certain she'd take the hint and scurry off, but Jamie added, "We were just talking about you."

With that bit of news provided, she couldn't resist sauntering over.

"What is there about me," she asked, "that could possibly interest you two?"

Without preamble, Jamie said, "Jack has advised me that you're having a sexual affair with him. Is it true?"

Sarah turned white with shock and muttered, "He told you that?"

"Yes," Jamie answered. "I questioned him about his intentions toward you, but he claims he has none, and I wanted to hear your opinion. Would you like him to marry you? If it's what you wish, I'll make him propose."

She spun to Jack and seethed, "You told him?" Jack felt like a fly caught in a spider's web. "He's my twin brother," Jack pathetically justified. "I tell him everything."

"Everything?" She was aghast.

"Well... not anything about... ah ..."

"You, Mr. Merrick, are an unmitigated bastard."

For the second time in their convoluted relationship, she slapped him as hard as she could; then she whipped away and stomped to the house.

As she reached the door, Jamie called after her, "I take it that means no!”

"I'm not my foolish sister, Lord Gladstone. I wouldn't marry one of you Merricks if my life depended on it."

As the sound of her angry strides vanished, Jamie sighed and said, "She doesn't like me very much."

"Who does?" Jack responded.

"Yeah, well, she doesn't seem too keen on you, either."

"Bugger off."

"I'll send a note to the vicar," Jamie taunted. "I'll have him check his schedule, so we'll know when he's available to preside at the ceremony."

"Go screw yourself blind."

Jack stomped away, too, Jamie's laughter ringing in his ears.

Let me in." "No. Go away." "Let me in, or I'll beat the door down." Sarah stared at the knob as Jack rattled it, then began to pound on the wood.

"It's your choice, Sarah. You can open it, or I'll keep on till the entire household comes up to see why there's such a commotion."

He would, too; she had no doubt. If she was overly obstinate, he'd simply kick his way in as his brother liked to do.

Jamie and Jack Merrick were a pair of contemptible, uncivilized scoundrels. They would do anything to a woman, without regard to the consequences. Who could gainsay them?

She stormed over and hissed, "Be silent."

"I'll be silent once you open up."

She fumbled with the lock, yanked at the knob, then grabbed his wrist and pulled him inside. She didn't peer down the hall to see if any of the maids were lurking, for she was too terrified to know. After so many years spent guarding her reputation, if she lost it now because of such a blackguard, she'd be driven to commit murder and at the moment a messy, unrestrained act of homicide would suit her just fine.

"What do you want?" she demanded. "And might I suggest that you be quick about it?"

"I didn't confide any pertinent details to my brother."

"Oh, that definitely makes me feel better." "I didn't! I swear it!" "Then how did he know?"

"Your sister asked him about us, so he asked me. I "couldn't deny it."

"What? You can't lie to the miserable oaf?"

"I never have before, and I'm not about to start."

"Perhaps you should consider turning over a new leaf. I won't have that horse's ass meddling in my private business."

Gad! What a disaster. Jamie knew, so Anne would know shortly. What would Anne say? What would she think? How would Sarah ever justify her conduct?

She couldn't believe how she'd dawdled in the parlor with Anne, the two of them mooning over Jamie and Jack Merrick as if they were handsome gods, instead of mortal men with plenty of flaws. Sarah hadn't meant to comment on Jack's flogging scars, and the words had slipped out before she could stop them.

Without her realizing it, Jack had become an obsession. She drooled over him. She fretted over him. She was so fixated that she could barely eat or sleep.

"Jamie may be an ass, but he was correct," Jack said.

"About what?"

"You have to marry me."

As far as proposals went, it had to be the most cold, unfeeling one ever uttered, and she was incensed.

She'd waited her whole life to wed, had dreamed of it as a girl and yearned for it as a woman. Once, she'd risked all—chastity, reputation, safety, security—in the hopes of having it happen, and finally there was a man who'd mustered the gumption to proceed, but he looked as if he'd bitten into a rotten egg.

"Marry ... you?" she scoffed.

Her tone was much more snide than she'd intended, but she was irate and hurt, and she spoke without reflecting on how she'd sound. As she might have predicted, he didn't react well.

He blanched as if she'd slapped him all over again.

"What if you're pregnant?"

"What if I am?" she blithely retorted, as if she hadn't a care in the world, as if the frightening possibility weren't gnawing at her every second.

"Your history proves that you're awfully fertile."

"Yes, it does. I seem to breed like a rabbit."

"Aren't you worried?" He studied her, his temper as hot as her own. "Or maybe you don't mind. Maybe you'll spit out another bastard and be done with it."

"It's what I'm best at," she sarcastically replied.

"At least this time, the father offered to stay around. When you disavow another of your children, what will your excuse be?"

It was the most despicable, hateful thing anyone had ever said to her. She understood that he was livid, that they were quarreling and ought to shut up till cooler heads prevailed, but common sense was nowhere in sight.

She wanted to slap him again, and she wanted to keep on slapping him till his cheek was raw and her palm bruised. She wanted to find a whip and beat him to a bloody pulp. She wanted to fire a pistol into the center of his cruel heart and smirk as he fell dead on the floor.

"Get out," she snarled.

"No."

"Get out of here—and don't ever return!"

"I'll be damned if you'll order me out."

No longer concerned about discovery, she stormed to the door and flung it open.

"Get out! Get out!" she bellowed like a deranged shrew.

He thought about arguing, but a maid was coming down the hall. She'd heard the shouting, and she tiptoed to the threshold and peeked in.

"Are you all right, miss?" the maid asked.

"I'm just dandy."

Jack glared at both women, then cursed and marched out without a backward glance. Sarah staggered to the bed and eased down on the mattress.

The silence settled, and the maid cautiously queried, "Would you like me to fetch your sister, Miss Carstairs?"

"No, I'm fine. Please close the door on your way out."

The girl wanted no part of whatever had transpired, and she did as Sarah had requested, then hurried away, no doubt to tattle to the other servants about the scandalous scene she'd witnessed.

Sarah sat in the quiet, all alone again.

Seventeen

Jamie dawdled in the doorway, staring at Anne and rubbing his wrist that was aching like the dickens. She was asleep on the bed, and he couldn't pull himself away.

It was still early, but the sun had been up for more than an hour. He'd planned to head out before dawn, needing to put as many miles between himself and Gladstone as he was able, but he continued to linger, and he couldn't understand why.

He'd accomplished everything he'd set out to do. He'd established his ownership, had chased off Percy, had relocated Ophelia and Edith, and had confirmed the loyalty of the tenants and servants. Anne and Sarah were protected as the Prince had requested. Jack would stay behind and manage Jamie's affairs as Jamie would trust no other to do, so there was no reason to delay.

He figured it was Anne who kept him from leaving, and the realization was so aggravating. In the beginning, he'd intended to wed her, then go, but it had all grown so complicated.

The estate was like a living being, his roots in the place deep and abiding—when he didn't want them to be. The fertile soil seemed to have talons that had wrapped around his ankles. They were holding him locked to the property until he could accept his connection to it, but he simply couldn't open himself to the possibility that he belonged at Gladstone.

He'd spent the summer with Anne, and it had been magnificent, but he had to move on. He had scores to settle, battles to wage, whiskey to drink, women to seduce, and he had to quit tarrying like a besotted idiot. His infatuation with Anne had gotten completely out of control, and if he remained another second, he was terrified of where he'd end up.

He wouldn't be bound! Wouldn't be tied down or fettered! Not to her or to anyone!

She stirred and touched the spot where he slumbered next to her, and on discovering that he wasn't there, she frowned. Her auburn hair was strewn across the pillows, and a ray of sunshine made the soft tresses blaze with color.

He didn't mean to ever return, and suddenly the thought of never seeing her again was the saddest prospect in the world. He rubbed his hand over his heart, feeling as if it was breaking, which was absurd.

He would be fine without her! Just fine!

Like an automaton, he stumbled over and eased a hip down on the mattress. She was like a weakness in his blood, and he had no idea why he couldn't shake his need for her, but time and distance would quell her allure, as would a few London strumpets.

If he felt a stab of disgust at the notion, if he felt a stab of guilt and shame, he pushed them away. His marriage vows were preposterous, and he wouldn't be constrained by them.

Her pretty eyes fluttered open, and she smiled and stretched.

"What time is it?" she mumbled.

"After six already."

"What are you doing up? And dressed, too! You know I hate it when you get dressed before I have my way with you."

She initiated a luscious, slow kiss, and as he drew away, she sighed with delight.

"Why don't you come back to bed?"

"I must be off."

Usually, he rose for morning chores, so she wasn't aware that this was farewell. Not eager for a maudlin scene, he'd given her no hint of his departure, had made no preparations, had packed no bags. The prior evening, he'd merely instructed one of the grooms to have his horse ready. The animal was down in the yard, sensing a journey, and excited to be away. Jamie need only walk down, mount up, and go.

Why was it so difficult to pry himself away?

"Did I ever tell you how beautiful you are?" he inquired.

"Yes, but tell me again. I'm a glutton for your compliments."

He stole a last kiss, a brief brush of his lips to hers; then he hugged her tight, his face buried at her nape to hide his tormented expression. Once he'd contained his careening emotions, he slid from her arms.

"Bye," he said.

He yearned to say more, to blather on about how much he'd enjoyed their time together, but he was too much of a coward to confess what he was actually doing.

Without another word, he left, marching down the hall, practically running when he reached the stairs. The worst wave of panic swept over him, and he felt that if he didn't escape the house, he'd be trapped inside it forever.

As he sprinted out the front door, Jack was in the drive, waiting by the horse, and Jamie wasn't surprised to see his brother. Jamie hadn't confided to Jack that he was going, but Jack had figured it out nonetheless. They had no secrets.

Jack had packed Jamie a bedroll and satchel, had a pistol loaded and strapped to the saddle. Seeming cool and unaffected, Jack watched as Jamie approached.

"Are you sure, Jamie?" was all he said.

"I'm sure. How about you? You claimed that you wanted to stay here, but have you changed your mind?"

"No."

"Are you sure?" Jamie pressed, wishing Jack would come along and not able to imagine how it would be without him.

"No, but I'm staying anyway. Have you talked it over with Anne?" "No."

"She'll ask me why you went. What should I say?"

'Tell her... oh hell, I don't know. Tell her what a bastard I am. Tell her she's better off without me. She'll agree with you."

"Yes, she will."

Jamie nodded and peered up at the ostentatious mansion, the shiny windows glowing red with the rising sun. "You have my permission to do whatever you want to the property. I'll have the lawyers put something in writing, and I'll send it to you—in case there's any question." "Good."

Jamie studied his brother, his fondness so severe that it was painful.

"We traveled a lot of miles together." "We did at that."

"I'm glad I could bring you back," Jamie said. "I'm glad I could give you this place and this life." "So am I."

"It's what you always wanted. Don't squander it."

"As if I would, you wretch." Jack chuckled. "Shut up and go before I start blubbering like a babe."

A rattling noise sounded overhead, and they both glanced up to where Anne was looming out an upstairs window. Jack and Jamie froze, looking like the guilty conspirators they were, and he was troubled and annoyed. He'd hoped to sneak off without any fuss, but there was about to be an enormous amount of it.