A Dangerous Man (17 page)

"It's my uncle, the duke," Alison said, leaping into his outstretched arms.

He swung her around, clutched her against his chest, his
features unguarded, his defenses down, as he smiled at the
laughing child. The look in his eyes bespoke of deep affection, and something darker, a stark, desperate yearning.

His rumbling voice came out softly soothing as he carried
Alison to the settee. "I have missed you. Have you missed me?"

"Ummhmm," Alison said, her black curls bouncing about
her face. "But I went shopping with Aunt Leah."

"Did you? Did you buy anything for me?"

"No, silly. We bought fabric for dresses. Pink for me and
green for Aunt Leah. Auntie gave me a dormouse, but Mama
says it is dirty . . ."

Richard smiled at the child laughing in his arms. Tiny
handprints appeared on his coat to mingle with the road dust.

When he looked up, his dark eyes meeting Leah's, the emotion blazing within was so stark, her breath caught in the back
of her aching throat. Did he long for a child of his own?

She rubbed her hands over her belly. Thanks to her father's
stilted explanation, she knew how children were conceived
and where they grew. The one thing she did not yet know was
how to tell if she were with child. Perhaps his babe already
grew within her. Oh, how she prayed it was true.

For he would make the most wonderful father. And a child
would help ease the pain of his past. She was desperate to
know who had hurt him, what had happened to rip out his
heart.

Several times, she'd nearly given in to the temptation to ask
Rachel, but she always regained her senses.

She would wait to hear the truth from his lips, rather than
the lies Rachel would no doubt throw out to hurt her.

As the minutes passed, she became excruciatingly aware
of Rachel's eyes upon her. No doubt she had committed a
faux pas of the most grievous sort by allowing her husband to
kiss her outside of the bedroom, but she did not care.

Nor did she care if the flush on her cheeks proclaimed the
extent of the passionate embrace upon which Rachel had intruded.

She refused to cower beneath her sister-in-law's silent
scrutiny. She walked to the settee and sat beside Richard.

He brushed a curl from Alison's brow. "Would you like to see what I have brought for you? And then an outing in the
park? Perhaps an ice for a treat?"

"A present for me?" Alison bounced up and down on his
lap. "Let me see, let me see."

"I should very much like to go along with you, St. Austin,"
Rachel said, her voice a soft, delicate purr that narrowed
Leah's eyes. Richard did not seem to notice, as Alison chose
that moment to squeal in his ears.

I would prefer to spend time alone with Alison," Richard
retorted as he stood, the child clutched to his chest. Then he
turned to Leah. "That is, if you have no objections, madam"

"Of course not," Leah said. She had chores of her own, not
the least of which was a trip to Mrs. Bristoll's to check on
Tommy. Yesterday, his fever had returned for the third time
in as many weeks. It was a baffling illness that recurred with
no precise interval, but left the youth feeling perfectly fine
in between bouts of shivering and sweating. The doctor
they'd consulted had prescribed purgatives and emetics, a
cure which had left the boy much weaker than the illness that
plagued him.

Alison buried her face in Richard's neck. He raised Leah's
hand to his lips. The calloused pads of his fingertips sent a
shiver up her arm, chased quickly by a flash of heat as his
mouth moved over the inside corner of her wrist, his lips
smooth and soft against her tender skin.

"Until later," he murmured, then turned and carried the
child from the room

"My, my, my," Rachel said. "That was quite a tender scene
we interrupted. Of course, you realize gently bred ladies do
not go about conducting such passionate displays in public."

"I haven't seen my husband in three weeks," Leah said,
rising from the settee. "I neither require nor request your approval to welcome him home in any manner I see fit."

Rachel curled her hands around the arms of her chair as
she watched the foolish chit stride from the room. The girl
might appear quiet and shy, but through their recent skirmishes, Rachel had learned she also possessed a strongwilled, stubborn streak as treacherous as the ebbing tide on
the Thames.

It was not her softly stated rebuke that urged Rachel to
follow her and push her down the stairs. No, it was the deplorable state of her frock, the bodice crushed, the skirts wrinkled and covered in road dust from Richard's bold caressesin a public access room, no less. Rachel had even noticed a
large, male handprint on her bodice, just above her right breast.

Impotent rage tightened Rachel's jaw. She didn't know why
she was so surprised. She had assumed Richard would bed
the chit. After all, he was a man of lusty appetites, as well she
knew from experience. But knowing in theory, and seeing this
visual, undeniable evidence of his lust for another woman
was as painful as having a ram-rod shoved up her spine.

Not that he loved the girl, Rachel had no fear of that.

Richard would love but once in his lifetime, and she was
the woman he loved. She had only to convince him that she
was as much a victim of their tortured past as he was. Then
all would be well. He had loved her once. He would love her
again.

They were meant to be together.

No, he certainly didn't love his wife. She was nothing more
than a willing body in the night. But it had to end. And soon.

The thought of Richard touching Leah, stroking her as he'd
once stroked Rachel, pushed her out of her chair.

She had to meet with Margaret. There was no time to lose.

Rachel had firmly believed that Leah would want to flaunt
herself before society as the Duchess of St. Austin, daughter of
a merchant made good, but she couldn't have been more wrong.

Leah had refused to go about in society without her
husband.

It hadn't helped that Richard had left so soon after the wedding. Now that he had finally returned, it was time to wage
the war. The battle lines were clearly drawn, the enemy identified. Leah didn't stand a chance.

"Did Alison enjoy her outing in the park?" Leah asked,
hoping mundane conversation would still her rapidly beating
heart as Richard strolled around her newly decorated rooms.

His broad frame and powerful stride seemed as incongruous against the delicate Sheraton furnishings and mint green
walls as would a panther prowling through Hyde Park. "Yes,"
he said. "Though she would have enjoyed it more were you
with us ""

He shot her a rueful grin. "You are quite accomplished at
ducks and drakes, I understand, and can make your rock skip
over the water at least five times before it sinks. I fear my own
display came up sadly lacking."

Leah laughed. His unguarded expression as he swung his
head around to meet her gaze caused her breath to catch in
her throat. The dark depths of his eyes revealed no clue to
the secrets he kept hidden away, but she did not ply him with
questions. She would learn all she needed to know slowly,
as he came to trust her, to love her, to need her as she needed him.

His hair had grown overlong while he was away and lay
like black velvet against his blue superfine coat. The sun had
bronzed his face, making him appear more Grecian god than
underworld lord.

As he fingered the ivory counterpane, it was all she could
do not to fling herself against his chest and beg him to stroke
his fingers over her flesh, right now, upon that bed.

Good heavens, she wanted him to touch her everywhere.

"I do like what you have done to this room," he said, staring at the bed, his chest heaving slightly, making her wonder if he were experiencing the same stark desire that was building an uncomfortable tension beneath her skin.

Though spacious enough to sleep a dozen, the chamber
suddenly seemed much too small, the air too thick to breathe.

"Do you?" she said. She bit her lip to hide her smile, or perhaps it was to trap her moan of desire in her throat. "I was
afraid you might object, but you were gone so long and I
simply could not spend one more night with that horrid yellow
and garish red blazing in my eyes"

His low chuckle rumbled over her skin, deep like thunder
and just as intriguing. "Garish red. An apt description, but it
suited the previous duchess perfectly."

He moved to the satinwood writing table centered between
the floor-to-ceiling windows. A gilded cage was positioned
atop it. A dormouse crouched in one corner of the cage. "I
take it this is the offending rodent?"

"I am afraid so" Leah sighed as she walked up beside him,
so close, his scent of j asmine and amber filled her lungs. The
heat of his skin burned through his coat and shivered over her
arms. "I thought, perhaps, we could keep it in the conservatory. Then Alison could visit it whenever she wanted"

"Yes, that is fine." A bowl of chopped fruits sat on the
table. Richard picked up an apple chunk, held it out. Big,
black eyes stared at his fingers before the animal scampered
forward and snatched it away. "I had one once, as a child."

"So did I," Leah said, trying to imagine him as a small boy,
but failing miserably. He was so strong, so forceful, it was impossible for her to see him as anything but the magnificent
man he was now. "Tell me of your childhood," she blurted
out, despite her resolve to wait for him to discuss his past.

His features darkened, his eyes narrowed, and she regretted her hasty words. They had years to learn all they needed
to know about one another. She did not want anguished memories intruding upon this night, their first together in so long.

The silence stretched out, the only sound was his rapid
breathing and the breeze trembling against the window.

"There is not much to tell," he finally murmured, but the
harsh tone of his voice said his words were a lie. "Eric was
the eldest son, Geoffrey and I, the surety the title would continue should Eric .. " He turned his gaze to the dormouse.
"Should Eric perish before begetting a son of his own"

She slid her hand into his. "I am so sorry. I did not mean
to-"

"Do not be concerned," he said, his fingers closing around
hers. Good Lord, what was wrong with him?

His eyes burned and his throat tightened painfully. He
would have preferred she fling crockery at his head, that she
rant and rail at his callous disregard for her feelings.

Anything but this tender acceptance. This soft understanding for all he had suffered that threatened to unman him, and
she knew not even the half of it. Nor could he ever tell her.
Some secrets stained the soul too darkly.

Some secrets could never be revealed.

Shimmering tears darkened her eyes. "How did he die?"

"A riding accident." He swallowed against the thickening
in his throat. "Just over a year ago"

He could not go there. His memories were still too bitter,
still too raw. He turned his thoughts toward more pressing
concerns. Since his return, he had yet to see Geoffrey and
none of the servants seemed to know where he was. "When
was the last time you saw Geoffrey?"

"Two days ago," she said, her soft smile showing no hint of
concern, or that all was not as it should be. "He went to stay
with friends. A house party in Edinburgh, he said."

Good Lord, he was a fool to think he could resist this woman,
so quiet, yet so strong. Perhaps he should have remained in
Yorkshire. "Did he mention with whom he was staying?"

"Lord Egglestone and Lord Isherwood." A note of panic
crept into her voice. Her fingers tightened around his. "Is any thing wrong? Should we be worried? I have no brothers to
judge him by, but he does leave the house at all hours of the
night and often stays away for days at a time. Rachel says that
is perfectly normal for a gentleman of the ton, so I did not-"

"No, nothing is wrong," he said, or so he hoped. He kissed
her fingertips, breathed the familiar scent of her skin, roses
and lotion and soft, feminine flesh. "But I thank you for your
concern"

The glare she sent him practically screamed, "Of course
I'm concerned, I'm your wife, you idiot."

He ran his hand over his mouth to hide his grin. The tension gripping his neck eased. Egglestone and Isherwood were
young and foolish, to be sure, but not as reckless as many of
Geoffrey's friends. Not excessively given to drinking and
gaming. Hardly likely to lead Geoffrey into too much mischief.
Richard would dispatch his man of affairs in the morning to
make certain all was well and Geoffrey was where he said he
would be.

He could do no more this evening. His ability to think was
quickly dissipating, his awareness overwhelmingly centered
on his wife. She wore her golden hair loose and flowing over
her shoulders. Her green eyes glowed in the candlelight.