Claiming His Wife (4 page)

"For what?" she asked, a bit faintly,
still tapping away on the table.  A little faster now as
nervous energy tingled to life inside of her.  

"I should have listened to you about
Irene.  I shouldn't have dismissed her behavior."  Alex
hesitated and then shook his head slightly.  She could only
stare in fascination as the facade of his stone face cracked, just
the tiniest bit, and regret shown through.  "Hugh and I spoke
with her, and it's not something you'll have to worry about
again."

******

That one slender finger,
moving up and down, was the only sign of Grace's discomposure.
 Alex found himself fascinated with that small chink in her
armor, wondering what it was she was thinking.  Silence had
never been Grace's natural state when they'd first married; she'd
always been talking about something, enthusing over the latest play
or book, or a story that she'd heard.  It made the back of
Alex's neck itch to be eating a meal with her at last, and to have
her shutting him out. 

She stared off into the
distance, her pretty pink lips pursed, as if she didn't dare open
her mouth for the words that might come tumbling out.  Color
pinked her cheeks as her mouth twisted, as if she was seeing the
humor in the situation.  Years after she'd been upset about
Irene, he'd finally admitted that she was right and taken care of
it.  Alex saw the irony.  Once Irene had thrown herself
at him and forced his eyes open, he'd wondered if his friendship
with the younger woman was part of why Grace had thought they'd
been "foolish" when they'd married.  Had she thought that his
feelings for Irene were more than brotherly, no matter that he'd
told her otherwise?

Perhaps.  Although he still
couldn't understand why, if so.  The way he'd treated both of
them had been worlds apart.  Irene was the little scamp that
he'd spent his life protecting like a little sister; Grace was his
wife.

"Apology accepted," she said, finally.
 Yet, even then, he didn't sense any crumbling of the wall
between them.  Maybe Irene hadn't had anything to do with why
Grace left him. 

Which meant that he was just as
baffled as before.

They'd ridden in the carriage together
all afternoon, he'd spanked her, held her on his lap while she'd
slept, and now they were sharing a meal, but she was as far away as
ever from him.  As if during their time apart she'd erected an
invisible shell that kept him from truly being able to touch her.
 It made him ache in a thousand different ways, from his head,
to his heart, down to his cock.  What he wouldn't give to just
strip her down out of her dress, strip off that invisible armor,
and love her back into herself. 

Somehow, he didn't think she'd
appreciate the sentiment.  He had no desire to force himself
on an unwilling woman, even if he had been rock hard all afternoon
after spanking her.

Besides which, in a few minutes she
was going to be furious with him for a whole new reason.  His
stomach full, he pushed away his plate and sighed, picking up his
jacket as he stood. 

"Come," he said, walking around the
table and holding out his hand.  "I'll show you to your
room."

Grace looked at his hand like it was a
viper, ready to bite and poison her, and Alex let it drop.
 Part of him wanted to push her to at least accept a small
civility from him, but right now he was too damn tired.  He
just wanted to go upstairs and get this over with.  The
perfect end to a frustrating, and what felt like a fruitless, first
day of reconciliation with his stubborn wife.

She followed him upstairs and into the
room docilely enough, proof, perhaps, of her own exhaustion.
 But Grace was quick of mind, and it took her less than a
minute to take in the contents of the room and realize exactly what
he'd done.  By that time he was already locking the door and
tucking the key into his pocket. 

"No," she said, tersely, her hands
clenched into small fists at her side.  "No, no, no, no,
no."

"Yes."

"I won't."

"Won't what?  Sleep?"  He
walked past her, heading for his trunk.  "That's your choice,
but I intend to get some rest."

The itch on the back of his neck
increased, he could feel her glare slicing into his shoulder blades
as he dropped his jacket onto his trunk.  There was no way he
was letting Grace sleep in a different room.  Even if he
trusted her not to try to run, considering that she wasn't exactly
traveling with him of her own will, one commonality that his
friends had was a belief that their wives belonged in bed with
them.  Although he and Grace had had separate rooms, they'd
always ended up sleeping in the same one.  No more separation.
 Not in their marriage and not their beds. 

He pulled off his cravat
and tossed it onto the trunk as well, before he began to loosen the
cuffs to his sleeve.  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw
Grace skitter to the door and test it.  He hid his grin as she
mumbled something under her breath, probably a curse, when she
found it locked.  Rolling up his shirtsleeves, he nonchalantly
ambled over to the pitcher of water and large bowl that had been
left for them. 

Although he'd been tempted to order
Grace a bath, he'd wanted to see how she'd react to their shared
accommodations first.  After all, she might not be interested
in bathing with him in the room, and he certainly wasn't going
anywhere.  He'd requested a room on the upper floor, but his
Grace was tenacious enough to try and make it out a window, given
enough time on her own.  

"I'm not getting in that bed with
you."

"That's also your choice.  But
you should know that I have no plans to sleep on the floor
tonight."  Alex was gambling on Grace's love of comfort to
keep her off of the floor too.  He'd had the innkeeper remove
the carpet to make the floor even less appealing that it would have
otherwise been.  Splashing water on his face, Alex sighed with
pleasure as he rubbed away the grime of the day.  

After drying his face and arms with
one of the provided towels, he looked up to see Grace still
hovering by the door, a look of determination on her face.
 

"I'm not going to- to act
as your
wife
,
there," she said, pointing to the bed.  

He raised his eyebrows as
her chin tilted upwards in defiance.  "I have no interest in
forcing an unwilling woman."

Grace gaped at him, looking remarkably
like a fish, and he had to hide his smile.  

"I'm entirely unwilling to even be
here!"

"That's different," he
declared as he began unbuttoning his shirt.  It didn't escape
his notice that her eyes went to the bare skin that was revealed
there before she looked away.  On their honeymoon she'd told
him that watching him undress was fascinating, she'd been entranced
by the differences in their bodies.  It heartened him to know
that she was still affected, even though she now had others to
compare him to.  Somehow that didn't wane his attraction to
her, it only made him want to prove to her that he was better.
 Letting his shirt drop to the floor, he started walking
towards her, noticing the tension that gripped her - and he was
fairly certain it wasn't just anger or fear which was causing her
cheeks to turn pink.  He put his fingers under her chin,
tilted her head back to look at him.  Leaning forward, he saw
her pupils flare as the blush in her cheeks deepened.  Male
smugness wove its way around his bones; no matter what else lay
between them, she was still attracted to him.  "You are my
wife, for better or worse, and we are going to be together. But
when I make love to you again, Grace, it will be because you
beg
me to."

The moment hung between
them, tension humming in the air, before she jerked away, slapping
at his hand. The look she gave him made it clear that she’d rather
die first.  Alex straightened and turned away, heading for the
bed so that he could remove his boots.  He also needed a
moment to compose himself, because his erection was throbbing, and
he was already tempted to show Grace just how easily it would be
for her to become willing.  But it wasn't the right time
yet. 

"Why?"

The question cut through the air
before he'd made it halfway to the bed.  Alex looked over his
shoulder to see her standing there, an air of desperation hanging
around her that he hadn't sensed before.  He'd been about to
reply flippantly, but something in her eyes made him stop.
 The question wasn't rhetorical, it seemed to mean something
to her.  

"Why what?"

"Why me?  I need to know Alex.
 Why not just divorce me and find a new wife?"

"There'd be a scandal..." he said
slowly.  "Where would you go?  What would you do?
 London Society would never welcome you back into its fold,
not with the way that you've behaved over the years.  My name
has been all that's kept them from throwing you out."

"That's
my
 problem, not
yours," she said, scowling furiously.  "I'm a bigger scandal
than a divorce would be.  Can you imagine what they'll say
when they find out that we've reconciled?  I've been
cuckolding you for
years.
"

Alex shrugged as he sat
down on the bed and began tugging off his boots.  He'd become
inured to the
ton
's opinion over those years.  If they thought him a fool
for taking back his wife, he didn't care, although he thought that
there would be just as many who approved of him taking her in hand.
 What he didn't understand was why Grace seemed so concerned
with what they thought of him, when it was her fault they were in
this situation in the first place.

He'd attempted to approach Grace,
several times before.  At least once a year for the past three
years, actually.  Every time, she'd tensed and fled, and he'd
backed away, both hurt and frustrated by her response.
 Whenever he showed up in the same area as her, she was gone
just as quickly.  But he'd never shown up in London during the
Season before, he'd always attempted to broach her in private.
 So this year he'd upped the ante in more ways than
one.

"I don’t want another wife, I want
you," he said simply.  It was the unvarnished truth as he saw
it. 

His wife gaped at him, apparently
rendered speechless by his answer.  The astonishment and shock
clearly written across her face was even greater than this
morning's when he'd told her that he wanted to reconcile.
 Which he found confusing.  Hadn't he always shown Grace
how much he wanted her?  Well, besides when he'd been foolish
enough to let her go without a fight.  

Cursing himself again for his idiotic
pride, for allowing her to slip away from him so easily, Alex knew
that he would have to work to undo the damage he'd contributed to
their rift.  But he was determined that she do the same.
 

******

To say that Grace was
confused was an understatement.  Why was Alex so determined to
have her when any woman would do for him?  His behavior was
completely counteracting his words to her father and she didn't
know what to believe.  Perhaps something had happened in the
deal between her husband and her father that she didn't know about,
something that required her to be reconciled with Alex.

She didn't trust this
rapid turnaround, even though some small part of her was burning
with hope.  

Hope hurt.  Hope was what would
grind her already shattered heart into dust.  Hope was what
had caused her to lower her defenses to Alex in the first place, to
believe that something more was growing between them.
 

So she took that little
sliver of light and tucked it away, like she was closing it up into
Pandora's Box, just like in the myth.

Fortunately, Alex had
already gotten into the bed, after giving her a long, considering
look, and his back was to her. Gritting her teeth, she followed
him, practically clinging to the edge of the bed so that she didn’t
accidentally touch him. She wasn’t going give him the satisfaction
of thinking that she was afraid of him. She didn’t want him to
think that she still cared, that sleeping next to him would bother
her.  

Tears slid silently down her face, and
she told herself they were tears of anger and frustration, but she
wasn't entirely sure that was true.  Her emotions were utter
chaos, as if all the careful walls she'd built up had tumbled down,
the compartments emptied, and now she was drowning in them.
 

She missed Conyngham and the
simplicity of their relationship.  The caring of friendship
without deeper emotions.  Trusting him with her body had been
easy, because she hadn't had to trust him with her
heart.

Now she was realizing why it had been
so easy to keep her heart out of her affairs: Alex had still held
the battered shards.

Chapter 3

The house that Eleanor and Edwin had
rented out was beautifully furnished, but quite cozy, Irene was
relieved to find.  They'd asked her and Hugh to stay with them
for the duration of their visit to Bath, since they would only be
in town long enough to attend Wesley's wedding, and then Hugh
wanted to move on to the estates.  Edwin would be taking
Eleanor to his own estates at the same time, although they were
near enough for visiting, thankfully.