The Sinner (20 page)

Three then. Not so many.

Too many.

An image came to her suddenly, either from her past or her imagination, she did not know which. A picture of blood and of a woman screaming soundlessly. It was the same horrible thing she saw when the panic gripped her, and now it flickered through her mind and made her shudder. Only this time she was watching it, and there were others around the woman, holding her down as she screamed and screamed.

“I think I saw it once, Dante. When I was a girl.” She tried to remember when it had been, and where. “Not at my home. It was in the country. Maybe I passed a cottage and heard something and looked in. I think I saw it through a window. I still see it when—when I get afraid. Not clearly, just pieces.”

He kissed her temple. “Do not force yourself to remember.”

He sat again, and rested against the tree. When he reached out his hand, she took it, and he pulled her back into his arms.

It was wonderful snuggling there with him. White clouds moved across the sky above the lake. They reminded her of the clouds in Durham and the game she and Dante had played. The breeze was cool, but his warmth saturated her.

She let herself go limp against him, more spent than tired. She felt very close to him, as close as when they were in the cottage.

She was glad that he had made her talk about this if it meant that intimacy could return. He said he could not live in their false marriage, but maybe they could remain friends now.

“Laclere said if you knew the reason it may help,” she said. “I cannot see how it would.”

“He was right. I am glad that I understand.”

“Understanding does not change me.”

“Perhaps not, but it makes very clear which intimacies you cannot permit and which you can.”

And which you can?

“There are ways to make love that do not result in pregnancy, Fleur.” His voice flowed to her ear quietly. “You would need to trust the man in order to avoid the fear, I expect. You would need to believe that he would not take those things that you cannot give.”

She stayed very still, listening to his heartbeat, luxuriating in the warmth of their embrace. But she sensed a change in him. He had released that special vitality. It entered her and made the waiting return.

He turned her in his arms, cradling her shoulders so he could see her face.

“How much do you trust
me
, pretty flower?”

“I am not sure it is possible for me to trust any man the way you mean.”

He kissed her. Not a kiss between friends. She suspected that whatever else this day wrought, his kisses would never pretend to be chaste again.

The long connection moved her deeply. Her heart wrenched with the awareness of what it could not have, but also filled with the sweetest longing. She almost regretted that he understood and accepted what was wrong with her. That was how confused and aroused his kiss could make her—her body wanted him enough that it betrayed her own defenses.

“It may be that you cannot trust any man enough, Fleur. However, I will have to find out now.”

She half-expected him to try and find out then and there. She half-wanted him to. The likelihood that she would fail the test saddened her, however. When that happened, he would never hold her like this again. He would stop kissing her in a way that shook her soul.

Did he sense her hesitation? See her concern in her eyes? Suddenly his embrace was gone and he was helping her to rise.

He dipped his head to kiss her again. “Later.”

Taking her hand, he led her back to the house.

“A letter came today from Adrian Burchard,” Vergil said as he and Dante sat in the music room that night, politely listening to Vergil’s oldest child, Rose, play the pianoforte. “It was the usual welcome back to the country. However, it included a message for you.”

Dante had not been paying much attention to Rose, except to notice that with her blond hair, blue eyes, and heart-shaped face, she resembled her mother, who turned the pages for her.

His attention had been on the other females in the room. In a far corner Fleur sat with Vergil’s younger daughter, Edith. Fleur patiently plaited the little girl’s dark hair, taking her time, prolonging contact with the child.

“What was the message?”

“He asked that you call on him when you return to town. He has some information for you. That was all he wrote.”

Fleur finished the plaits and pinned them into a circlet that made Edith look too old. The child grinned impishly at her cohort, as if they had done something naughty.

Edith gave Fleur a big hug and then skipped over to her father to show off her grown-up hair.

Dante watched Fleur’s attention follow the girl. He saw her bittersweet expression as Edith climbed onto her father’s lap and began beguiling his attention away from her sister’s performance.

Fleur’s gaze shifted and she caught him watching her. The conversation from the morning suddenly echoed silently in the air between them. Especially the last part.

He went over and sat with her. “Your expression is enigmatic. Both welcoming and cautious. You probably do not know how alluring that can be to a man.”

Her face flushed adorably. Her nervousness was palpable, charming, and provocative as hell.

“I will not be coming to your chamber tonight, if that is why you are so unsettled.”

“Not unsettled . . . More confused and . . . Well,
somewhat
unsettled, but—”

“I will be borrowing a horse from the stable and riding back to town early tomorrow, to call on Adrian Burchard. You can come home in the carriage later. So you are safe for another day.”

She laughed lightly, and looked so beautiful that she almost was not safe tonight after all.

“Are you thinking that you should deny me, Fleur? Is that the debate I see taking place behind those lovely eyes?”

Her lids lowered, and it appeared that she reflected deeply for a moment. She gave the subtlest shake of her head. “I have realized how vulnerable I will be, however. In ways that have nothing to do with trusting your restraint.”

“You fear it will be as in the past?”

“Yes, that too.”

“Then we will discover for certain what can and can’t be. I think it is time to know, don’t you?”

“Yes, Dante. I think it is time to know that.”

chapter
20

I
t was time to know.

Fleur chanted that to herself the next day as she supervised the packing of her trunk.

“We will be coming up to town next week,” Bianca said. She sat on the bed, watching the preparations. “I count on your accompanying me to the theater as soon as possible.”

Fleur appreciated the invitation. It had not been the first such overture, and Fleur wished she had used this visit with Bianca better. If she had not been so absorbed in herself, they might have become good friends. Then perhaps Fleur could have asked her about things.

Such as those other ways to make love that Dante mentioned.

She had no idea what he meant. Her imagination utterly failed her when she tried to puzzle it out. Perhaps she should put him off until she found out. . . .

No, it was time.

“Laclere is very pleased with your marriage. He confided to me that he sees a change in Dante and thinks no woman would have suited him better.”

“Did he really say that?”

“Just last night. You look surprised.”

“I thought that he considered the quickness of it unwise.”

“He may have at first, but a letter from Charlotte yesterday gave him a right understanding. She explained the matter with your stepfather. Vergil had no idea, and neither Dante nor you had said anything about that.”

“I suppose it seemed a world away.” That was not the only reason. She had not explained about Gregory because it would sound calculating and selfish—that she had married Dante to save her own skin.

“It was very noble of Dante, of course, but also hardly a great sacrifice. Not because of your fortune, but because of his affection for you.”

Bianca’s frankness only unsettled Fleur more. Somehow she saw to the closing of her trunk and Bianca called for the footmen to carry it down.

Alone in the chamber, Bianca gave her a very direct look. “So, everyone is agreed that this marriage is good for Dante, that it will ensure both his solvency and his happiness. Is it also good for you?”

The bold question took Fleur by surprise. Bianca was not a woman who dissembled much, and that could be disconcerting in a world where most people dissembled all the time. It left Fleur with either responding honestly or not answering at all.

“There have been many surprises in my alliance with him. In many ways, this marriage has not been what I anticipated it would be. As to whether it will prove good for me, I think there is a chance that it will.”

“I am happy to hear that, and hope if there is that chance, you will grab it. I believe a woman should decide what she wants and fight for it, not allow herself to be merely buffeted by the winds of life.”

As Fleur took her leave of the household and rode through the Sussex countryside, she thought about Bianca’s advice. She did not know if the winds about to blow through her life would bring good or ill, but it was time to decide what she wanted.

It was also time to know if she could experience passion with a man without turning to stone.

It would only be possible with Dante. No other man had stirred her at all, let alone enough to contemplate such a risky experiment. If he had not entered her life again, she would have never suspected that she had been wrong about herself all these years.

However, in thinking all night about what was to come “later,” she had thought about other things too. As she lay in her bed, so saturated with anticipation that she wished “later” did not mean in London, her thoughts had turned to what being really married to Dante would mean.

Pleasure, to be sure. He had already shown her that.

Friendship, she hoped. Friendship unfettered by the confusion that had interfered with it recently.

But also, maybe, unhappiness. He had warned as much in Durham.

He would not be faithful. She accepted that he could not give her that, just as he accepted what she could not give him. He himself did not believe he had it in him to be constant.

However, if his affairs had wounded her while they were not really married, when his visits to other beds were not betrayals of her, how would she live with them after “later”?

She could not deny Dante because of it. She would not give up the chance to know what they could share. But she did not lie to herself. Knowing the passion would leave her exposed to horrible heartbreak.

As the carriage entered London’s environs and aimed to the city, all thoughts of potential unhappiness fell away. Most other thoughts did too. An image invaded her mind and stayed there, banishing all emotions except excitement and longing.

It was the memory of Dante on their wedding day, looking in her eyes as he held her face in his wonderful hands. The rest of the way home she experienced again the perfect, sweet unity she had known that day when he kissed her, once on the forehead, and once on the lips.

A woman should decide what she wants and fight for it.

She experienced an instant of total honesty as she glimpsed her future in all its possibilities. She knew which one she wanted with a security that all the arguments in the world could not have achieved.

It astonished her how easy it was to make her decision. She did not know if she had the courage to fight for it, however.

Especially since the person whom she would be fighting was herself.

An empty house wears its abandon in invisible ways. One senses the silence as one walks past. It exudes loneliness onto the street.

That was what Fleur thought as the carriage stopped in front of her home. For a moment she felt it had been closed forever.

It startled her, therefore, when the door opened and Dante came out to the coach.

“Your meeting with Mr. Burchard was successful?” she asked as he handed her down.

“It was interesting. I will tell you about it later.”

Luke removed her trunk, and Dante helped him carry it into the house. “The day is fair, Luke. Take the afternoon for yourself after you have done with the horses. We will not need a carriage today.”

Delighted by this unexpected gift, Luke hurried out to get on with his duties.

Fleur stood in the reception hall and listened to . . . nothing. “Are they all gone?”

“Yes.”

“I do not think I have ever been alone here before.”

Arm along her waist, he strolled with her toward the stairs. “You are not alone now. Think of it as another cottage, where you find yourself with no one but me for company.”

“Who will cook for us, and dress us?”

“We will do for ourselves, as we did there.”

“I did nothing there. You did it all.”

“Then I will here as well.” He handed her up the stairs. “I want no one else here today. No sounds, no service, no interruptions. We will read together, or hold conversations, or just sit together, with no duties or demands. There will be no world outside these walls, and the only world inside them will be the two of us together.”

He parted from her on the first floor and went into the library. She continued on to her chambers.

Essential comforts had been provided. Water had been left in the dressing room so she could refresh herself. Scones and jam and punch waited in her sitting room. Knowing Dante, he had instructed the cook to leave enough prepared food in the kitchen so they would not starve.

Alone. The lovely silence derived from more than the lack of sound. The absence of people brought an exquisite peace to the house. She could feel Dante’s presence distinctly, even far away, because absolutely nothing else intruded.

Conversation and companionship. Confidences and friendship. She had no idea how Dante had seduced other women, but he knew her very well.

She drank a little of the punch and looked at her
secrétaire
. Inside it were all the pieces of her Grand Project. It astonished her to realize that today, right now, she did not care about it at all. Dante occupied her mind, and the most poignant emotion swelled her heart.

She allowed her hope and longing to have its way. She was beyond fighting either. She would not know how to contain what owned her even if she wanted to. The hope gave her strength too. She would need that.

Looking in her mirror, she removed her bonnet. She gazed in her own eyes and admitted the sad truth. She was not a girl, not a child. She was a woman who had allowed an unknown fear to waste the best years of her life.

She was also a woman who was hopelessly in love with a man, and who wanted all of that man that she could have.

Gathering her courage, praying that she had enough, she went down to the library.

She found him sitting on the divan, waiting for her.

She walked over and stood in front of him. “I do not think it was wise to empty the house of servants, Dante.”

“Whatever you require, I will see to it. What do you need?”

“I would like to remove this dress, and I have no maid to assist me.” She turned her back to him.

She expected him to say something clever and to help her at once. Instead, a stillness formed behind her, and he did not move. She kept her pose long enough that she began to feel foolish.

She glanced over her shoulder.

His gaze met hers. “You are sure, Fleur?”

She loved him so much right then. It had always been like this, however. He had always protected her, even when it went against his own interests and desires.

“I am very sure that I want to remove this dress, Dante.”

His hands went to work on its closure, but his gaze did not leave her face. The sensation of the cloth parting and his hands touching caused the restrained anticipation of the last day to deluge her. The look in his eyes captivated her. She had come down determined to be bold and confident, but already she was in his power.

“Will you be requiring assistance in donning another dress, Fleur?”

She could not find her voice. She merely shook her head.

He plucked at the knot where the lacing to her stays ended. “Then I should attend to this as well.”

Holding her steady with one hand on her hip, he unlaced with the other. “You surprise me, darling.”

“I have been working on my courage all day, and thought I should not risk its deserting me. Am I being too forward?”

“Not at all. I had planned a slow seduction, but only because I expected to need one.”

She faced front and closed her eyes to savor the sensations already titillating her. “You have been seducing me for weeks, Dante. We both know it has been slow enough.”

The stays gaped. She had to grasp her garments to her breast to keep them from falling to the ground.

He rose behind her. Holding her shoulders, he pressed a kiss to the side of her neck. A sparkling shiver danced through her.

She stepped away, out of his reach. “Thank you. I can manage the rest.”

Heart pounding, she hurried back to her chamber.

Somehow, she held on to her resolve. Even though she shook as she peeled off the rest of her garments. Even when she slid the pink silk bed gown over her nakedness. Even when she heard the movements on the other side of the wall that said Dante was in his chambers.

She stood still, listening, deciding what to do. Initiating this so quickly had used up a lot of her bravery.

She summoned more.

She needed him to believe that she knew what she wanted. She also needed to prove it to herself.

She turned the latch and opened the door to his dressing room.

She intruded while Dante was removing his shirt. He turned in surprise.

She entered and closed the door behind her. She rested her back against the door.

“You intend to stay while I undress?”

“Should I not?”

He shrugged. “As you wish.” He continued with the shirt.

He shed his upper garments. Naked from the waist up, he sat on a chair to remove his boots.

His body fascinated her. She had seen sculptures and paintings, but never a real male form without clothes. How beautiful he was, leanly framed but tight with muscles. She had thought it would be embarrassing to see him unclothed. Instead, nothing could be more natural, and she was not embarrassed at all. Aroused, but not embarrassed. She recognized the physical purr inside her for what it was now.

He looked at her, and she could tell that he knew what she was thinking and experiencing. He stood and faced her, as comfortable with his physical presence as ever, in control of this disrobing even if he was the one who stripped.

“Do you intend to continue watching?”

“Shouldn’t I? Do you want me to leave?”

“I do not want you to leave, although I cannot remember ever being watched so obviously.”

“I thought that since you have seen me, it was only fair for me to see you.”

“I am not seeing you now.”

No, he was not. She had stacked the deck, to buy herself some courage. Nor had she planned to just stand and watch him. She had intended to speak with him when she opened that door. Seeing his body had become a delicious distraction.

He had challenged her, and she was determined not to play the shy virgin today. She stepped away from the door. “Do you want to see me? Will that make it more fair?”