An Invitation to Sin (17 page)

He took her hands and moved them up and around his neck. Their bodies melded together. Need simmered through her veins, eager—even greedy—and his kiss ignited a sweet, painful emotion that had lain dormant. She threaded her fingers through his thick hair, pulling his head down to nuzzle his mouth.

His groan of approval vibrated against her quivering lips. Again, his tongue danced across them, seeking entrance. Swept up in the rising tide of desire, she opened for him and he surged inside. A sweet fire, dark and scorching, burned through her limbs and settled deep in her core. Everything inside went soft as their tongues tangled, playing a delicious and forbidden game. He pressed against her, his solid body gently pushing her against the hard trunk at her back.

She flinched as the rough bark dug into her spine. With a murmur, he eased back, teasing her mouth with a slow, impossibly gentle kiss, so tender and sweet that tears gathered under her closed eyelids. That sweetness undid her. The memory of Jeremy, and the last kiss they had shared, forced its way back into her mind.

Her eyes sprang open. Horror and shame flooded her veins. Bad enough she was letting Christian kiss her like this, but out here in the park? In public?

She jerked back, knocking her head against the trunk of the tree.

Startled, Christian broke free. “Jesus, woman,” he gasped. “What are you doing? Did you hurt yourself?”

“Let me go,” she panted. She pushed against him, frantic.

He stepped back immediately. His cheekbones were glazed with a dark flush and his eyes still smoldered, but he looked wary. And worried.

“Sweetheart,” he began.

She cut him off with a sharp chop of her hand. “No, Christian. Don’t say anything more. This never should have happened.”

With trembling hands, she set her bonnet on straight and dodged around him, heading back for the path. He caught up to her, fell in step beside her. The intensely humiliated part of her took comfort in the fact that he was breathing as hard as she was.

“Clarissa, I’m not playing with you,” he said in a low voice. “I’m dead serious about this. I want to be with you. And not because you’re convenient. I’ve felt this way for a long time.”

Anxiety and a strange, sorrowful yearning squeezed the air from her lungs.

“No,” she choked out. “We can’t do this. It’s absurd.”

He grasped her elbow, forcing her to slow her headlong rush out of the park. She sensed the restrained strength in his grip, the desire to drag her to a halt.

“Why not?” he asked in a frustrated voice.

“Do I really have to explain it?”

“Yes.”

She stifled a curse. “You’re young, Christian.” She could feel his gaze bearing down on her, but she refused to meet it. “You have your whole life ahead of you. And I’m—”

“Don’t you dare say you’re old. I swear I’ll do something drastic if you do.”

His voice held a note of warning, but something else, too. He sounded hurt.

She stopped and looked up at him. His eyes blazed with a complex mix of emotions: desire, anger, and pain. The pain of rejection, of not being good enough. She had seen that pain before. Years ago, when he had compared himself to his athletic and dashing older brothers and found himself wanting.

She sighed, both the fight and the fear draining out of her.

“Christian, you honor me. But I’m not ready for what you’re asking of me. I still love Jeremy, and I’m not ready to let him go.”

He towered over her, like a baffled giant. “Will you ever be ready?”

She briefly closed her eyes, letting her guilt and the love she felt for Jeremy bleed through her. “I don’t know,” she finally said. “But I don’t think it could ever be with you. Whatever you might say, you are too young for me.”

His face hardened into an austere mask. In that moment, he looked anything but young.

“You’re wrong, Clarissa. Why do this to yourself?”

“Because I want peace and quiet. Is that so much to ask for?”

He began to argue, but she grasped his arm and gave it a little shake. “Christian, no. I’m begging you. I can’t give you what you want. Please, let’s just be friends, as we have always been.”

She stared up at him, making no effort to hide the desperation behind her plea. His eyes went bleak, but he nodded.

“As you wish.”

Without another word, he took her arm and led her from the park.

Chapter 5

Pressing her hand against her bodice, Clarissa fought to quell the mad fluttering of her heart. Christian and Lillian had come to call and now waited for her in the snug drawing room of the Middleton town house. Four days had passed since that devastating kiss in the park, and Clarissa had carefully avoided any contact with the Archer clan during that time. But as much as she’d been tempted to send the footman downstairs with a message to Lillian and Christian that she was unwell, neither of her friends deserved such shabby treatment. She had to face the consequences of her foolish behavior sooner or later, and delaying a meeting with Christian wouldn’t make that any easier.

Gritting her teeth, she opened the door. Her guests rose to their feet. Christian’s sapphire gaze locked on hers, boring into her with a smoldering intensity that halted her faltering steps. Her wafer-thin composure evaporated. If Lillian hadn’t been in the room she would have turned tail and fled.

Her friend hurried across the room to greet her. Lillian enveloped her in a sweetly scented hug, then drew her over to sit on the sofa.

Christian bowed, then retreated to the fireplace. He looked handsome and powerful, every inch the proud soldier. His leather boots and buckskin breeches clung to his muscled legs, and his beautifully tailored uniform showcased his brawny shoulders. With an effort, Clarissa turned her attention on Lillian.

“I’ve been so worried about you,” Lillian said with an anxious smile. “When you didn’t come to the Framing-hams’ ball last night I thought you must be ill.”

Clarissa flushed. Bad enough that she had to lie to Lillian now. Even worse that the reason for her lie stood only a few feet away.

“I’m sorry. I should have sent you a note. My father-in-law has been unwell, and I was reluctant to leave him.”

Lillian hesitated, casting a worried glance at Christian. A silent communication passed between them, one that sent a prickle of warning across the nape of Clarissa’s neck.

“I hope the colonel feels more the thing very soon,” Lillian replied. “But Christian and I thought we should call on you today. To ask if you’d heard, ah, any unusual gossip lately.”

Clarissa frowned. “What do you mean? I haven’t heard anything.”

As soon as the words left her mouth, comprehension surged through her in a sickening rush. Had someone seen her in the park with Christian? Backed up against a tree while he devoured her mouth? Her gaze flew up to meet his. He gave a slight but decisive shake of the head.

A sigh of relief escaped her lips, and Christian’s mouth thinned into a grim line. She winced, hating that she possessed the power to wound him.

Lillian briefly closed her eyes, as if in gratitude. “Thank goodness,” she murmured.

Clarissa directed a questioning glance at Christian as her relief gave way to puzzlement. To her dismay, he gave a slight grimace, then dropped his gaze to the fire burning in the grate. Foreboding seeped through her veins.

“Lillian, whatever is the matter?”

Her friend took her hand. “Christian and I need to tell you something, and it’s going to distress you. But please remember that the entire Archer family will do everything we can to help. And the rumors will die down soon enough.”

Clarissa’s heart gave a frightened thump. “What are you talking about?”

Lillian rolled her eyes at her brother, silently pleading for help. Still looking grim, Christian left his station by the fireplace, grabbed an armchair, and pulled it over to sit in front of Clarissa. He reached over and swallowed her hand in a warm, massive grip.

“Clarissa,” he said gently, “rumors about Jeremy are circulating through the
ton
. They are without foundation, but of course that won’t stop them from spreading. You and Colonel Middleton will surely hear of them soon enough.”

Her mind went blank. What could anyone say about Jeremy that she didn’t already know?

“What … what rumors?”

A muscle pulsed in his lean jaw. Her heart beat even harder in response.

“It’s being whispered that Jeremy failed to act appropriately during the Battle of Badajoz,” he replied in a carefully neutral voice.

She blinked, caught off guard. Jeremy had been one of the officers of the Forlorn Hope, the company assigned to lead the infantry attack on the besieged fortress. The company that obviously sustained the heaviest losses. Colonel Middleton had been told later that Jeremy had volunteered, thereby consigning himself to an almost certain death. Her husband’s decision had eaten away at Clarissa for months, as she had struggled to understand why he could have made that choice.

“Did he make some kind of mistake?” she asked.

Christian squeezed her hand, and she saw pity in his eyes. That more than anything caused a bubble of fear to rise in her throat.

“Clarissa, it’s being said that Jeremy froze at a decisive moment, and did not fulfill the duties of his command,” he answered.

She gaped at him, her mind rejecting his horrifying words.

“Are they calling him a coward?” she finally choked out.

Christian gave a terse nod, his gaze sparking with anger.

Lillian put an arm around her shoulders. “No one who knew Jeremy will believe so foolish a story. We just have to ignore the rumors and they will eventually fade.”

Clarissa snatched her hand away from Christian’s grasp and twisted sideways to glare at Lillian. Fury rose within her in a blinding rush.

“How can you say that? You know very well that most people will believe that kind of rumor—they always do. Whoever started it is lying, and I’m going to find out exactly whom it is.”

She was desperate to move, to get away from them. But Christian, seated in front of her, was blocking her way. Still, Clarissa tried to jump up, but he took her by the arms and held her in a gently unyielding grip.

“No, sweetheart. Wait,” he soothed. “Let us finish telling you what happened.”

Clarissa felt Lillian’s start at his term of endearment, but right now she didn’t care. Christian could call her whatever he wanted if only he would let her go.

“Let me up,” she snapped. “I must go straight to the Horse Guards. Surely I can talk to someone there. One of Jeremy’s commanding officers. I won’t allow anyone to tell lies about my husband.”

She struggled, but Christian held her as easily as he might hold a newborn kitten.

“I’ve already been to the Guards,” he replied. “Father and I went this morning to speak to the commander of Jeremy’s brigade. Stop struggling and I’ll tell you exactly what he said.”

She froze at the note of command in his voice. Some part of her wanted to strike out at him, but the rational part of her mind told her to listen. She gave him a grudging nod, and he eased his grip.

“My father and I heard the rumors yesterday, as did Lillian,” he said. “By last night, we realized they were spreading, and we needed to ascertain the source.”

“And deny the rumors for the vile untruths they are,” Clarissa interjected hotly.

“Of course. Father and I felt it best to track down the source before speaking to you and Colonel Middleton. We wanted to squelch the rumors, if at all possible, and save you unnecessary pain.”

Her stomach clenched at the thought of breaking such news to her father-in-law, especially given his weak heart.

“I’m assuming you weren’t successful,” she said bleakly.

“Unfortunately not. We spoke with Lieutenant-Colonel Harcourt this morning. At first, he tried to put us off, but he eventually revealed that he knew of the rumors.”

Christian hesitated, and Clarissa’s heart sank.

“Just say it,” she said, bracing herself.

“After some discussion, the lieutenant-colonel admitted that they had surfaced once before. Immediately after the battle, and from a credible source. Jeremy’s battalion commander at Badajoz was an old friend of Colonel Middle-ton’s. For the colonel’s sake, he ordered the matter hushed up. Harcourt swore he hadn’t heard another word about it until this week, and now it’s too late to do anything about it. To his way of thinking, the damage has already been done. In fact, he flat out refused to deny the validity of the rumors, saying it was best not to talk about them at all.”

Clarissa fought to pull in air as the muscles in her chest contracted into a crushing band. A hundred thoughts buzzed in her head, but none made any sense.

“Who accused Jeremy of being a coward?” she asked.

Christian glanced at Lillian, who slid her arm around Clarissa’s waist.

“Dearest, does it really matter?” Lillian murmured. “We know it’s a lie, as will everyone who ever knew Jeremy. Eventually it will all die down.”

Clarissa stared at Lillian, stunned by her friend’s response. Did she really not see why they had to fight back?

“Of course it matters,” she retorted. “The cad spreading these lies must be held to account. For Colonel Middleton’s sake, if for no other reason. Jeremy was his only child, and this will likely destroy him.”

Lillian transferred her gaze to Christian. Again, a silent message passed between them, one they obviously didn’t want to share with her.

Instantly, Clarissa knew why.

“You know who it is, don’t you?” she demanded of Christian.

He sighed, deep grooves of unhappiness bracketing the corners of his mouth. She suddenly noticed that he looked like he hadn’t slept well in days.

“Believe me. You’re better off not knowing.”

She grabbed his arm, digging her nails into his sleeve. “Tell me right now, Christian, or I’ll go to the Horse Guards and find out for myself.”

He looked mulish, but she refused to back down and glared at him.

“Very well,” he finally said. “I’m almost certain it’s Blundell. I suspected him from the moment I heard the rumors. A few other things I managed to find out confirmed my suspicions. He was one of Jeremy’s superior officers at Badajoz. Given what happened the other night, the timing makes perfect sense.”

Clarissa slumped against Lillian as the ugliness of it all seeped into her bones. Christian had to be right—it was too much of a coincidence. Blundell had threatened to punish her, and what could be more effective than tarnishing her husband’s name? Especially since Blundell had always hated Jeremy for winning her hand.

But what should they do about it? What
could
they do about it?

Lillian hugged her but directed a quizzical glance at her brother. “What happened the other night?”

He gave an impatient shake of the head. “It’s not important. What is important is how we’re going to handle this.”

Clarissa sat up, forcing back the leaden weight of despair that sought to overwhelm her. She had to fight back. Jeremy had sacrificed his life for his king, and she could not allow his honor to be trampled into the dust by a pig like Blundell.

“Did you reveal your suspicions to Lieutenant-Colonel Harcourt?” she asked.

Christian’s mouth flattened into a disapproving line. “I did. And received a sharp reprimand in return. He told me in no uncertain terms to leave Blundell’s name out of it. He ordered me, in fact, to leave the whole thing alone.”

“How can he expect that of you?” she cried. “Didn’t your father say something? Harcourt would have to listen to him, wouldn’t he?”

“My father is only a baronet, Clarissa,” he replied in a dry tone. “Not nearly as influential as Blundell’s father, who, as you know, is both a marquess and a member of government. Harcourt made it clear he would take it up with my commanding officer if I didn’t leave the matter alone.”

Clarissa balled her fists into his shoulders and pushed. “Let me up,” she snapped.

That muscle in his jaw ticked again, but he stood and drew her to her feet. She jerked away and began pacing the room.

After several rapid turns, she felt able to speak again without shrieking. She came to a halt in front of Christian, challenging his steady gaze. “Could you talk to other soldiers you know … officers who were at Badajoz? Get them to tell the truth?”

He grimaced. “I’d like nothing better, Clarissa. But I can’t—not when Harcourt gave me specific orders. The lieutenant-colonel truly believes it’s best for everyone to let the matter die down. He reasons that if the brass ignores it, everyone else will, too.”

“That’s nonsense,” she retorted. “The man obviously won’t risk angering Blundell’s father.”

He shrugged, not bothering to deny her accusation.

“Can’t you do anything?” she whispered. “Even for me?”

His face turned to stone, but his eyes flashed with the evidence of a bitter internal struggle. Guilt speared through her for trying to manipulate him, but she had to, for Jeremy’s sake.

“I would if I could. You know that. But I can’t,” he replied in a husky voice. “Not in the face of a direct order.”

Lillian joined them. “Dearest, there’s nothing Christian can do. He can’t possibly disobey such an order, especially now that Wellington has his eye on him.”

Clarissa swallowed around the constriction in her throat. “Can’t anyone go talk to Blundell, at least? Tell him to stop spreading these horrible lies?”

Christian blew out a frustrated breath. “I intended to do just that, but Harcourt warned me away from him. And he did it in front of my father, making it quite clear that a duel to settle the matter was also not an option. Father agreed. Strongly, I might add.”

Clarissa stared at him, dumbfounded and despairing. She felt utterly boxed in, and unable to do anything to protect the reputation of the best man she had ever known. Grief seared her soul, almost as intense as it was on the day she’d learned of her husband’s death.

“So, there’s nothing we can do,” she said in a dull voice. “Nothing but listen and watch as Jeremy’s reputation is trampled on in every drawing room in Mayfair.”

Christian broke away and strode to the window. He stood with his back to them, quiet and still, but a furious tension vibrated in the atmosphere around him. Clarissa sensed his frustration, his need to take action, but too many forces were lined up against them. Even though grief held her immobile, some part of her yearned to comfort him.