Her Secondhand Groom (36 page)

“
Explain what?”

“
Explain what you’ve been doing.”

Drake dropped the towel and crossed his arms. Even naked he gave off an air of authority when he took that stance. “I don’t believe I have anything to explain.”

“
Yes, you do.” Juliet scooted down the bed and climbed down over the side to avoid the sticky mess. She shed her current dressing robe and grabbed another. “Explain the mess.”

He shrugged. “I’m sorry, Juliet. That’s just what happens.”

“
No, it doesn’t,” she countered with a shake of her head. “And don’t you dare say it does. We’ve made―had relations dozens of times and I know without a doubt you’ve never had a need to wipe the counterpane with a towel before.”

He shrugged again. “So?”

“
So where did the liquid come from?” she asked

He chuckled. “From the end of my―”

“
I know which body part,” she snapped, uncertainty and annoyance quickly giving way to agitation. “I want to know why it suddenly appeared when normally it doesn’t.”

“
Does it matter?”

“
Yes.” What was he hiding from her, and more importantly, why?

An odd shadow crossed his face, but in less than a second it was gone. “I didn’t realize it was such a problem for you to see such a thing, Juliet. I’ll be more mindful of your sensibilities in the future.” The low, solemn tone of his voice would have given her pause if she wasn’t so blasted confused about what was going on at the moment.

“
I don’t have sensibilities. Just tell me what’s going on.”

“
Nothing,” he said offhandedly, reaching for his dressing robe.

Juliet reached forward and plucked his dressing robe off the screen and clutched it to her chest before he could reach it. “Not so fast. I want some answers.”

A slight blush crept up his face. “If you must know, I was so taken with you, and captivated by the moment, I forgot to put on a sheath.”

“
Excuse me?”

He nodded. “When you...er...started riding me, I―”

“
I know when you were referring to, Drake,” she interrupted partly from embarrassment due to his word choice and what it implied, but also from agitation.

“
Well then, what isn’t clear?”

“
The sheath you just mentioned!” she burst out.

“
Oh, that.” He waved his hand dismissively, his body had relaxed considerably. “Don’t worry about it, Juliet. I’ll be sure to use one in the future so not to disgust you again.”

She ground her teeth at his airy tone and easy dismissal of the topic. Since when had Drake become more obtuse than Lord Watson? Or was he? There was one way to find out. “There won’t be a reason for you to use one again if you don’t start explaining yourself.”

He stepped closer, his sharp brown eyes skewering her. “Is that a fact, madam? Unless I’ve been transported to a foreign land, I don’t believe you’re in a position to render such a threat.”

She didn’t even blink at his sharp response. She knew he spoke the truth, of course. There wasn’t a single thing legally she could do to deny him access to her bed. But just because she couldn’t do anything legally, didn’t mean she wouldn’t do something illegally. She may not have been married to him any great length of time, but they’d been married long enough for her to know some of his secrets. One of which being he’d never seek admittance into her bed if she took to spending her nights in the viscountess’ room. Not that she intended to employ such a heartless tactic, but if she needed a means to escape him, that was one option available.

She steeled her spine and inclined her chin a notch. “I’ll not rescind what I said. I’ll not be sharing your bed until you explain to me what you’ve been doing.”

He scoffed. “I’ll explain the details of a sheath, but just so you know, I’m not telling you this so you’ll share your bed with me. I survived more than twenty-eight years without you as a bed partner. I don’t imagine I’d die tomorrow if denied your bed tonight.”

She sucked in a sharp breath at his cruel words and wrapped her arms around her midsection. “Forget I even asked.” She stepped toward the door, ready to leave the room before she brained him, thus leaving Celia, Helena, and Kate condemned to having a simpleton for a father.

“
No.” He reached out and stopped her. “Just because I said I’d survived twenty-eight years without bedding you and wouldn’t die tomorrow if denied that right, doesn’t mean I intend to find out.” He flashed her a smile that did nothing to sooth the sting of his words. “A sheath is just that. It’s a covering that goes over my...er...rod that catches everything. I’ve worn one every time we’ve been intimate. I just got carried away tonight and didn’t put one on.”

Juliet’s eyes bored holes into him. “Everything?”

The tips of his ears turned pink. “Didn’t your mother explain this to you?”

“
Apparently not. All she told me was you’d insert your member a few times and within a few seconds, minutes at most, everything would be done. Then, if I were fortunate, in nine months I’d have a baby.”

His face turned dark. Very dark. “I’m sorry, Juliet. But I can tell you now, there will not be a baby in nine months.”

“
I know,” she said sadly.

“
You do?”

She nodded. “I just had my flux again while you were gone to London.” A slight, wistful smile took her lips. “But that doesn’t mean in―” Her words died on the spot. Something still didn’t make sense. “Why do you wear the sheath?”

“
I already told you, to contain everything.”

That didn’t make things any clearer. Suddenly, Caroline’s suggestion about not cleaning up immediately or finding a way to get his fluid to her core made sense. So did Emma’s confused face and question about Juliet being sure there was nothing to clean up. Now she knew why, and the knowledge infuriated her. He’d been wearing a sheath to...to...to what? She blinked. “You―you wore the sheath to prevent conception?” she asked flatly, knitting her brow.

He nodded once.

The blood in Juliet’s veins heated to an instant boil. “How could you?”

“
I’d just slip it on before entering you,” he said as if that were the answer she was seeking.

Juliet clenched her hands around the fabric of her dressing robe in order not to make his three little girls orphans. That wasn’t what she’d meant at all and he knew it. “Yes, I understand that. And I even understand you were able to do so because of my impaired eyesight and unbelievable amount of trust in you. But what I don’t understand is why you wore it.”

“
Because―”

“
Don’t you even think to say it was to contain the mess,” she cut in. “Putting aside the fact you’re not the tidiest person who ever lived, I just don’t believe it, quite frankly. There’s something more and I want to know what it is.”

“
You already said it. I don’t want you to conceive.”

A new sense of understanding washed over her. One that made her so sick, she could hardly stand. Tossing his dressing robe at her feet, she wrapped her right arm around one of the posts of his bed and planted her left hand on her hip for balance. He’d been manipulating her. Of course she’d known when they’d first married he’d been manipulating everything. But she’d thought it had all stopped the night of Caroline’s dinner and it hadn’t. He’d continued to manipulate long after that event and he still was. Worse yet, what he was manipulating was something she had no control over, which caused her the most pain of all. She’d wanted to be a mother and he’d made the decision entirely on his own to take that possibility away from her.

“
I want you to leave,” she whispered.

His brows knit. “Leave?”

“
Yes, leave.” Trembles, caused either by hurt, betrayal and misplaced trust or blatant bitter hatred for the man standing in front of her, she didn’t know which, wracked her body. “Get out!”

He winced. “Juliet, is there a problem?”

“
Is there a problem?” she repeated on the verge of hysteria. “Yes, there’s a problem. You!”

“
Me?”

“
Yes, you. You’ve taken away the one thing I’ve dreamed of my whole life.”

“
What? A role as a wife and mother?” His eyes grew sharp, impaling her. “Quite the contrary, Juliet. I gave you that. I not only gave you a husband, something you seemed unable to snare in London, despite your many years at a school known for its ability to make even the most unruly girls into proper young ladies capable of snagging the loftiest titles; but I also gave you three daughters. Have you forgotten them?” His voice turned hard as steel. “Are my girls not good enough for you, Juliet? Is that it? They’re not born of your womb, but Abigail’s, so they’re fine to play house with, but not good enough to consider yours?”

“
I’ve never thought of them that way, and your accusing me of such is most insulting. This has nothing to do with them.”

“
Doesn’t it?” he countered, taking a menacing step toward her. “Isn’t this about your craving to grow a child in your womb?”

Juliet fought back her tears. “No. I’m angry because you decided you’ve had enough children, so you took it upon yourself to take measures to prevent more without consulting me, your wife.”

He blinked. “I did that for the benefit of everyone involved. Trust me.”

“
How is that in everyone’s best interest?” she demanded.

His eyes sparked with something fierce, but unnamable. “Because you get a husband and the girls get a mother who will be around to guide them into adulthood. That’s what our marriage has always been about. You know that.”

She nearly blanched. He was right. That was the biggest—nay, the only—reason behind their marriage. She pursed her lips. “I know I shouldn’t be surprised to learn all of this since you have such a habit of making decisions for everyone based on the certainty that only you know what’s best, Lord Presumptuous. But this time you’ve gone too far.”

“
How so?”

“
Because you’ve taken away my dreams without so much as consulting me about it first. If not for your slip tonight, I might have never known.”

“
Does that even matter? Fighting about it isn’t going to change anything. Whether you’d found out or not, I’d not be willing to intentionally get you with child.”

“
Even if I wanted one?”

He threw his hands in the air. “I don’t see what the problem is, Juliet. You have three daughters who love and adore you. Is that not enough? Must you have more?”

“
What of an heir, Drake? Don’t you have need of one of those?” she rebutted. Whether they had ten more daughters and no sons, it mattered naught to her, but his title demanded he father a son. It was her last, and strongest, appeal.

“
My cousin can inherit,” he said dismissively. “When I was married to Abigail, I felt my biggest responsibility was to sire an heir. Now, I’m a little older and understand there are more important things than duty and responsibility to a title.”

Tears stung her eyes, blurring her vision. “Is that the way of it then? You make such a decision and I’m forced to accept it?”

“
Forced?” he scoffed. He shook his head. “You have no idea what forced is, Juliet. Abigail was forced to have three children, and didn’t even live through the birth of the last one. You should be thankful I care enough about you not to
force
you to do that.”

“
Of course,” she whispered, understanding crashing about her ears. Abigail. This wasn’t really about Juliet at all, it was about Abigail. Though Juliet had been fortunate he’d never openly flung in her face how much better Abigail had been at everything from her wifely duties to being the perfect mother, the truth was, Drake still thought it. Juliet could never compare. Perhaps he’d been right and this was the best way to protect everyone involved. This way he’d never be torn between showering love and affection on the girls he’d made with the woman he’d loved and being forced to pass down a title to a son born of the woman he didn’t.