Tender Torment (26 page)

Otherwise, Justin had been disarmingly amiable and charming to virtually every guest with whom he came in contact—and to Marisa
as well. She had been utterly amazed and delighted at his invitation to dance. He was complimentary and flattering and, yes;
even loving. Tonight he had been the way she hoped he could be, and she felt proud to be his wife. It was something she had
never quite articulated in her own mind before, but now, right at this moment, a very good feeling about her marriage seemed
to glow inside her.

A light rap came from the adjoining bedroom door, and before she could respond, Justin entered.

“I didn’t want to let the night go by without.telling you how pleased I was with the whole affair. You did a magnificent job.”
He bent over to kiss her lightly on the
cheek and, as he did, Marisa clasped his shoulder with her hand.

“I’m so happy to hear you say that, my dear Justin. I was just sitting here thinking about…” Before she could finish her sentence,
his mouth was pressed against hers, his hands gently fondling her long, silken hair. It was a long, tender, lingering kiss
with their lips mutually exploring, lightly touching, barely meeting one another, and though he had not intended it to be
a passionate act, Justin now found himself unable to stop. A familiar and seductive fragrance revealed itself from some point
along Marisa’s delicate shoulder, and he felt compelled to press her closer to him in order to drink in that mysterious scent.

Without uttering a sound, Justin lifted Marisa into his arms and, with a smile on his lips, slowly carried her to the nearby
bed. The ease with which he lifted her gave Marisa a strange, conquered feeling, so strong were his sinewy arms, that she
found herself consciously admitting that it was a thrilling sensation, too.

Still wrapped in his arms above the bed, Marisa felt her nightgown slowly descend to the floor. Gently, he lowered her disrobed
body to the bed, and she shivered in anticipation while he put out the lone lamp on her dresser.

When he returned to her, his body was naked, and his strong hands found her in the darkness, warming her with hypnotic, repetitive
caresses. It was different tonight. Somehow he was communicating a genuine desire for her in a way that made Marisa want him,
too.

Afterward, Marisa cuddled next to Justin and drifted off to sleep, her hand caressing his cheek. She would later recall that
secure feeling which enveloped her as she lay there, nestled close to his body.

It seemed much later, though it actually was not, that she felt his body stir, and she awakened to find Justin sitting up
at the edge of the bed.

“Justin?” she called sleepily.

But he did not answer. Instead, he simply got up and left the room without a word, leaving Marisa in a state of bewilderment.

He, too, was uncertain about the significance of this
entire day’s events. As he reviewed them in his mind, he sensed for some reason that they were out of character for him. He
wondered what all of those guests must have thought about this new role he was assuming. Was his wife attempting to transform
him into something… domestic or demeaning? Something less than he was before their marriage? Had he made a spectacle of himself?
Even though there had been many enjoyable moments throughout the day, he could not shake loose the notion that he was now
vulnerable to her, and that was a feeling he did not relish at all.

Straeford no longer attempted to deceive himself where his wife was concerned. His defenses against her were weakening with
every passing day. Greatly disturbed by his susceptibility to her sweetness and unaffected charms, he withdrew from her behind
a wall of icy indifference. Whenever possible in the following days he spurned Marisa’s company, and if he was forced to be
in her presence, his conversation with her was brief to the point of being curt.

Marisa bore up under this treatment of her as best she could, but it was causing her some sleepless nights and unhappy days
as she tried to come to terms with Justin’s erratic behavior. After shopping one morning, she arrived home in time to see
her husband and Edward Harding entering the library. Immediately the major did an about-face, coming to her while Justin stood
stiffly in the doorway watching them. They exchanged pleasantries until Straeford grew impatient and called to his friend.
“Ed, I’ll be in the library when you are ready.” He bowed slightly to his wife and left them alone.

Harding was bewildered by Straeford’s behavior and upon entering the library he exclaimed, “You’re a deuced odd chap.”

“How so?” Straeford asked as he handed him a brandy.

“Not my business, I suppose, but that was some greeting you gave your wife.”

Straeford puffed on his cigar and leaned back in his chair before quipping sardonically, “Quite right, old man, it’s not your
business how I greet my wife.”

“Well, blister me!”

“Take it easy, Ed, no offense intended.” Straeford laughed and came to slip his arm about the major’s shoulders. “I was only
agreeing with you. You were the one who said it wasn’t your business.”

“Yes, well, of course.” Somewhat mollified, Harding smiled sheepishly and quickly changed the subject. “So, what was the matter
you wished to discuss with me?”

“I want you to read a draft of my will. The part pertaining to the heir in particular. Here.” Justin thrust a paper into his
friend’s hand. Surprised by such a request and not knowing what to say or think, Harding simply began to study the paper in
his hand. When he. finally raised his eyes from the document, Justin could read the astonishment in them.

“Hell, Just, this is most irregular!”

“Will you do it?”

“Who’s to say you won’t be around to raise your own son?” Harding was highly agitated and he began to pace the floor, but
finally he came to a stop and stared across the desk at his friend. “Besides, where does your wife come into it?”

“She doesn’t! If I’m not here, I want you to raise my son.”

Stupefied, Edward Harding groped for the right words to condemn Justin’s heartless action. He did not wish to hurt this man
who had suffered at the hands of his own mother; and yet he could never allow Justin’s prejudice against women to crush that
sweet girl who was his wife. “Just,” he gulped, “two women could not be more dissimilar than the present countess and your…
mother.”

Straeford flung himself out of his chair and leaned across the desk toward his friend. “There is no telling for sure with
any
woman.”

“I… I can’t agree with you. Lady Marisa is a good woman, and I won’t usurp her position. It ain’t right to even think about
it.” The two friends glared across the intervening space at one another until Harding broke the strained atmosphere by moving
around the desk to grasp Straeford by the arm. “Just, you know I’d do about anything for you, but don’t ask this of me. I’d
be happy to be your son’s guardian if anything ever happened to you. You know that. But I would never take the child away
from your wife… unless… and mind I say ‘unless’ I were to discover my judgment of Lady Straeford were in error.”

Although the earl continued to argue the point for the next half hour with his friend, Harding remained adamant. There was
no dissuading him and at times he waxed eloquent in defense of the countess until Straeford finally admitted defeat and accepted
the major’s condition.

“So, when is the happy occasion?”

Straeford blanched and looked a little foolish as he admitted, “Don’t know yet.”

“Don’t know? But I thought that…”

Justin shook his head negatively and waved the document in his direction. “This is a precaution. You know how much it means
to me to see the line secured. I didn’t sacrifice myself for Straeford Park alone.”

“Some sacrifice. That’s some woman you’ve taken to wife.”

The earl did not agree or disagree with Harding’s evaluation.

After being summoned to the library by the earl, Marisa was briskly informed that he had been made a brigadier general and
would be leaving for Portugal soon. Her heart plummeted to her feet. “When are you leaving?”

He smiled unpleasantly, interpreting her question as a desire to be rid of him. “Don’t be quite so anxious for my departure,
my dear. No definite date has been set as of yet.”

“I didn’t ask because I was anxious to see you leave,” she protested, but he ignored her rebuttal.

“I have made some provisions for the future.”

“Provisions for the future?”

“Yes, I have arranged for everything including our offspring.” He observed his wife’s heightened color and eagerly asked,
“Is there the chance you are already with child, Marisa?”

“I… I do not believe so… Justin.” His face fell, sending a pang of regret through her for having failed him.

“Well, the situation could change at any time,” he continued matter-of-factly. “Therefore, I have taken the precaution of
providing for my heir.”

“I don’t understand. Precaution? What precaution?” She was instantly alert. Knowing this man as she now did, nothing would
surprise her.

Impassively he explained the condition of the will making Harding the child’s guardian.

Marisa was relieved. “He is an excellent choice. I would gladly accept his advice.”

He leaned back in his chair and regarded her closely, waiting for her reaction as he explained, “I don’t think you fully understand,
my dear. The will states that if Harding deemed it necessary, he would have the power to rear the child himself.”

She grew deathly pale. “Why? Whatever reason could he… would you wish to take the child… from me… its mother?”

He clutched and twisted a pen between his fingers before replying, “There are mothers and then there are mothers, if you get
my meaning.”

“No, no I don’t!”

“Let it suffice to say I am
protecting
the child.”

“Against its
mother?”

“Precisely!”

“Y—you are… unbelievable! Well, let me tell you,
Lord Straeford,
I will fight that document with every breath in my body!” She was standing defiantly before him, her chin thrust forward,
her hands on her hips, and Straeford, observing her through half-closed lids, was filled with admiration for her. For some
reason her attitude
pleased Kim. No matter how he threatened her, she dared to challenge him again. If the situation weren’t so serious, he would
have been tempted to give in to her and forget the whole matter. Instead he decided to be conciliatory.

“Calm yourself, my dear. There will be no need to fight anyone as long as you are a good mother, and Harding is convinced
you will be.”

But Marisa was not to be appeased. “Then it is, obviously, you who is not convinced!”

Straeford shrugged as he came toward her. “Who is to tell with a woman?”

It was always the same motivation driving him. His mother. Oh, how she wished she could have done more than banish her picture
to the gallery. If only she could send her memory into oblivion.

“Don’t look so fierce, madam. I told you it is
only
a precaution.”

“A precaution I find both unnecessary and insulting.”

“Nevertheless, it will remain as part of the will!” Hard green eyes met cold blue ones, and she was goaded to rashness in
an attempt to wound him as he had done to her.

“This is preposterous. It is all of no consequence since we discuss a nonexistent child!”

Her retort hit home for his eyes stabbed back at hers, and there was an ominous note in his voice when next he spoke. “Oh,
but it is a matter of great consequence for I do not intend that you shall remain childless much longer.” And before she could
utter another protest, she found herself firmly clamped in his arms. “It was part of the bargain, Marisa. You remember our
‘infamous bargain,’ don’t you, my dear?” he asked mockingly as his hand cupped one of her breasts.

“Yes, oh yes, how could I forget?” she cried in a frenzy. “But even you would not be so contemptible as to take me here, my
lord Straeford, for the whole household to see.”

“Oh, would I not? This is my home. And you are my wife!” The incredulous expression which streaked across her face brought
a deprecating laugh to his lips,
and he held her at arm’s length, shaking her lightly. “No, Marisa, even /… with my blackened reputation, will try to refrain
from such contemptible behavior… unless you provoke me further.”

“Provoke you! It is you who has provoked me by your heartless insensitivity…” Instantly she found herself free of his hold
and alone in the room, but she was too angry at the moment to ponder his sudden disappearance.

Devil! Devil! Devil! she cried to herself. Now he was plotting to take away her rights as a mother. Why, oh why, had fate
given her a man so totally consumed with a need to protect his heritage, but with no need for her love?

To celebrate the tentative reconciliation between Angus Loftus and his son John, a family dinner was held at John and Ruth
Loftus’s home in Islington. Only Straeford had not attended the occasion. As far as he was concerned, John Loftus was a coward
beneath contempt, and Angus Loftus was a traitor to his principles. It was just as well that he had not been there, Marisa
reflected as she and Meg returned to the house on Berkeley Square later that evening, for his abrasive personality in their
midst might have hampered the overtures being made between father and son.

And as if to further convince her of that opinion, Straeford, dark and brooding, met the sisters in the entrance hall.

Cowed by his austere appearance, Meg clutched at Marisa’s hand. There had been a considerable change in Meg’s attitude toward
her sister and her husband since that frightening night in the garden.

“My lady,” Straeford approached his wife ignoring his sister-in-law completely. “Will you accompany me to the drawing room?”

She knew it did not augur well to be addressed so formally by the earl, and Meg’s apprehension did little to lessen her own
qualms. Nevertheless, she gave her sister a fleeting smile of assurance and followed Straeford into the drawing room.