Love's Patient Fury (The Deverell Series Book 3) (21 page)

Her eyes rounded to their fullest. “The questions. They weren’t meaningless at all.”

Varian’s expression was lightly interested, as though she were trying to work a riddle. Merry stared at him, searching through her memories of that rainy afternoon.
There were nine questions. He had won nine games. He had cheated to win. What were they?
She rallied them off, slowly one by one, and together they formed perfect logic.

Merry sat up then, trembling with fury and screamed in a voice surely heard all through the house, “You calculating son of the devil. You asked me questions that would tell you how to make me desire you. You got me into your bed with what you learned cheating me at cards. You keep me in your bed with what you learned cheating me at cards.”

Good girl. That fixes your father and puts an end to the annulment.

Varian was relaxed. He was amused. He was deliberately not contrite. He spread the cards in front of him, backs up and lifted his eyes to meet her. “This, Little One, is not my deck. You are quick, you are clever, you are...” he let the pause artfully develop and cut it off just right, “more wise. You watched my hands. You should have watched my eyes, Merry. Yes, the questions were to learn how to get you to desire me. You were a woman a man could not seduce without all-out battle. It was better for us both if I left the seducing to you, the same way now I leave it to your whim to come to my bed when you wish to.”

Merry’s own words earlier had been bad enough; Varian’s were beyond shocking. He held her in a hot, lazy gaze that was a caress, and Merry could tell by the softening of his lips and the resolve in his eyes that Varian had baited into fighting with him, like a fool she had done it, and in dismay she realized this fight was far from over.

“And while we’re on the subject of beds...” Varian began, filling the void made by her search for words, slowly sitting up, the move bringing him closer to her. His flexible, placidly modulated voice filled the room without effort, “...do you not think it a little foolish this pretense of wanting an annulment, especially since nearly every night since we’ve been here you have tiptoed down the hall like a naughty school girl in your dressing gown to be with me, sneaking off before morning when I damn well don’t wish you to, in a vain hope no one will discover how you spend your nights? Andrew sleeps next to us and I think it certain we can assume he
knows
, though he has not bothered to let your father be aware our marriage is more than a fiction on paper. Regardless of Andrew’s motivation or your unwillingness to accept you have no choice over our marriage, I have explained to your father why this effort to annul our marriage is pointless and far too late. As for this effort to appear to hate me, it is useless since it is not hate that brings you to my bed every night and has only aggravated your father to a point where he is no longer reasonable to deal with.”

Merry stared at him and was disappointed in herself when she heard herself snap out with more disquiet than she wanted, “You will do as you want with me as you have always done regardless of what I want or my feelings. I have consented to annulment. Quite clearly you object and you will do as you wish regardless of my wishes and who you hurt.”

She realized at once that they were the wrong words to choose if she had hoped to end this. With tightly leashed annoyance, Varian rose to his full height above her, his black eyes bearing downward as he replied in measured, biting tones, “Submissiveness is not attractive on you, my dear. It does not pleasure me and does not ring true. If you are angry at me, fight with me as you used to. But do not hide behind your father’s interference like a petulant child, pretending I have never been anything to you. I spoke to you once in anger. You have punished us both for that hurt long enough. I will not tolerate it any more. And I have dangled in this, on the whim of your male relatives, being dragged by you through this farce long enough.”

Struggling for all she was worth, stiffly she said, “I will not discuss it further. I will not argue with you about things that do not matter to me and never will.”

Varian’s black eyes met Merry’s blue, and she held his gaze evenly, unwilling to even bend an inch to end this rift between them.

He eased down before her, placing the cup of his hand lightly around her chin, and said with a voice firm in resolve, “If you want me to leave you, you have only to tell me directly. Do not hide behind your father and send him to do your bidding. I will go and I will not return, but I will not continue as we are, Merry, while you try to decide if you really want to send me away. You will never learn the wisdom of stepping back and saving yourself.”

“You are wrong, sir,” Merry snapped hotly. “I am stepping back now.” She looked away, feeling the moisture stirring in her eyes, and hated he could bring tears from her body when she had already cried far too much over him. “You broke my heart and you think it such a trivial thing. I will not trust you with what is left. You taught me the lesson well.”

 “I can’t change what is already past. No one can, Little One. I would cut off my arm if I could take away every hurt I have given to you. It is part of what we share, but you are allowing it to cost us everything else by wanting to end our marriage. In time, if you will allow me, I will prove the devotion of my heart for you and shed the sting of the hurt I caused you.”

Her quick rising temper was a welcomed balm, and she countered, “You would prove your devotion and shed the sting of my hurt by continuing in your abhorrent treatment of me in London by humiliating me today in front of my mother and cousin?”

Through gritted teeth, heavy with frustration, he ground out, “I have proven my devotion to you by my every act since the first day we met. You wanted America, I gave you America. You wanted England. We are in England. You wanted your mother and there she is. You wanted Bramble Hill and here we are. It is time for you to be reminded of your devotion to me.”

She sprang to her feet. Her eyes were so large in her face she looked like a caricature. “You are an arrogant man if you think I owe you that.”

Varian arched a brow. “What I am is your husband. An inescapable fate. It is time for you to accept that and past time for your father to realize there isn’t a choice in this.”

“There is always a choice. Isn’t that what you told me? Perhaps the only true thing you have ever said to me. Well I have made my choice. I choose annulment. I would rather have shame than live out my life with you in misery, knowing I am nothing to you, suffering your grim games, and knowing you only married me out of loyalty to my mother.”

She had succeeded in kicking up his anger again. It was in total possession of him, unconcealed. “Damn your black and white logic, and your stubborn mind that remembers only what it wishes to. I asked you to marry me in Virginia, when you could have been a pipe cleaner’s daughter for all I knew. It is you who would accept only my bed.”

The last of that had been spoken at a bellow. And it came to Merry’s memory, a belated chide, that he
had
asked her to marry him in Virginia. How could she have forgotten that?

And with that memory came more. Snippets of forgotten words, looks, touches and moments of Varian. The way he had watched her that night in the theater in Richmond. The day in the field when she’d been willing to surrender her body to him, and he had carried and released her on the porch of Winderly. In all moments between them, whether anger and happiness, he held infinite care and gentleness in how he moved with her.

Another thought occurred to her, belated in arrival as well, but unavoidable. His manner in London had been a mirror image of Morgan aboard ship, an unfeeling and repealing guise to protect her. His callous treatment of her during their week at Merrick Hall had all been an act forced upon her by the dangers he’d warned her of her last night in London.

What was in Varian’s eyes today was not the heart of a man without feeling for her; they held the look as it had been that night he had first found her in his bed. Merry didn’t know why Varian never spoke the word
love
. But in absolute certainty she did not doubt Varian loved her. His love for her and the truth of who he was, was in the way her looked at her. The way he was looking at her now. Varian not only loved her, he did so desperately.

Merry stared into the dark depths of his eyes.
Damn you. I am a foolish girl, Varian. You could have spared us much if you had but said the word love and been more direct with me.

Their voices must have carried beyond the drawing room. Standing in the doorway, stiff and enraged, was Lucien Merrick. His cold blue eyes were fiercely flashing with his anger.

Seeing her father there was more than Merry could manage to deal with at present. She whirled away from Varian, a little too quickly and swayed into a small tripod table, sending it to crash. If not for Varian’s quick hands and reflexes the sudden dizziness would have sent her slamming to the floor.

It took Merry several moments to compose herself. She looked at Varian and what she found on his face made her heart clench. His expression was fully unbound and awash with frantic concern.

She could feel their child moving rapidly in her body and then his hand moved to her gently rounding middle, almost as though he were desperate to assure himself they were both well.

A look at her mother told her the Rhea had noted the gesture and understood, though Rhea was careful enough in this volatile room not to show any reaction, especially since her father had joined them.

Into the heavy tension of the room, it was Varian who spoke first. His voice quiet and almost labored, just a hint above whisper. “Rhea, I am not and probably never have been deserving of your generosity of heart. Certainly not for my conduct today or in all matters involving your daughter. It is the one issue Lucien and I agree upon.”

Varian’s eyes shifted to Merry’s face then. “My behavior has been vile and my conduct inexcusable. Especially since it disturbs you both more than it used to, Little One. It is little wonder you want to leave me.”

Sinking down on a chair, Varian eased her body up against him and held her near him with the careful placement of his hands on each side of her middle. The movement of their child only increased, and she heard him released a ragged breath before his black eyes lifted to lock on hers.

In a voice gravelly with regret, Varian said, “I don’t deserve you or this child you carry for me. I have been absolutely horrible to you today, distressing you both when I would prefer only to be tender and gentle with you as it used to be between us. You have every right to be angry with me and every reason not to trust me. I know the words aren’t much in consideration of all I have done. Right now, the words are all that I can give you. I would like to give you more, but I will respect your will in this, if you have no wish to be my wife. If you want me to leave, I will go. Though it will devastate me to lose you. My only wish has ever been for your happiness, Merry. I am sorry.”

Her heartbeat was tolling furiously. Caught in a storm of disorganized emotions, afraid of what she might say in this complicated room of her father’s coiled anger, she grabbed the first words in her spinning thoughts and said, “You are an insufferable man. Did you really think I was a pipe cleaner’s daughter?”

She felt a measure of Varian’s tautness go out of him in an indiscernible shudder along his arms. The barest traces of humor teased at the edges of his eyes. “No, merchant class. It seemed logical given your anti-monarchial rants and your affection for America. It never occurred to me that you were Lucien’s daughter.”

That made her laugh. She made a face at him. He arched a brow. That only made her laugh harder. “Ah, such a wicked man you are, Varian. You could not seduce the daughter of a pipe cleaner.”

His eyes, when they met hers, were sparkling from his own memories. “A pipe cleaner’s daughter I could seduce. You I could not. Why do you think I asked you to marry me?”

“I haven’t the faintest notion,” she said, trying to maintain what was left of her composure. “I have made you so imperfect. You bellowed, Varian. It was marvelous. I don’t know why you waited so long to yell at me.”

Varian’s eyes suddenly softened. “I would rather do other things than yell at you.”

Standing between Varian’s legs, his arms a warm band around her, the last of her laughter left her in slow spurts, and then she felt the touch of  his fingertips along the slope of her cheek and found his eyes watching her. “Can I assume we are done with this? That you don’t wish an annulment? That you’ve forgiven me?” he asked.

“Forgiven you for what? There is so much to forgive you for.”

Varian held her as he was, no subtle move could be noted by her senses, but she realized those words had stung him. It had only been a jest, but Merry regretted it at once. She lowered her gaze, and instantly closed her eyes in all too familiar manner.

He wanted her to see his eyes when he spoke, so he lifted her face beneath him. “We can start with, though the list is long, what I said the night before we were married. There is no excuse for the things I spoke. I knew I was wrong, even as I spoke the words, but the shock over what this meant to you impelled me not to think at all rationally. My conduct was appalling. I hurt you in a manner inexcusable. I compounded my stupidity that night by following it up with that repulsive, hellish drama. I didn’t believe that you would marry me if I tried to apologize on the heels of all I said. I needed to marry you that night, Merry, or I would have lost you forever. I meant none of it, not a single word, and if you think I married you for any reason beyond the fact I have always loved you and could not live my life without you, you are wrong, Little One.”

Battling back fresh tears, she confessed, “It was not the words I couldn’t forgive. It was the doubt that all those months we shared when you had made me so happy meant nothing to you, were not real, and that I meant nothing to you.”

“I love you, Merry,” he whispered into her hair. “Since the first moment I set eyes on you you’ve been my every breath.”