Forbidden Love (12 page)

CHAPTER
7

Justin felt like a drowning man. He had done his best to steer both himself and Megan back into calmer waters, but instead, without quite knowing how it had come about, he found himself in deeper than ever before. His shameful desire for her was growing by leaps and bounds with each passing hour. Even now, in the privacy of his bedroom long after the rest of the household had retired to bed, he was kept awake by the aching of his loins. He wanted her fiercely, and he was afraid that if they continued in their present close proximity, his need for her might escape the bonds of decency with which he tried to bind it. It had so nearly happened this afternoon, and he thanked God for the interruption which had threatened to drive him right out of his mind at the time. He was absolutely determined to conquer the almost desperate longing which held him in thrall whenever he so much as thought of her. It would be easy, so very, very easy, to take her, to ease this gnawing ache he sensed within the softness of her body. She wanted him, he knew, and would put no obstacle
in his way. Which was all the more reason for him to keep a tight hold on his self-control. She was the merest child for all her impassioned response to his kisses; to take her innocence would be an act of infamy. If he could, he would have offered her marriage, and then bided his time with what patience he could muster until she should grace his bed as his wife. But that path was not open to him. And if he could not marry her, then he could not have her. It was as simple as that.

Sometime in the hazy hours of the morning, Justin sat himself down at his writing table and proceeded to pen two letters: one to Stanton, instructing him to send the traveling coach and a maid to accompany Megan to London. The other letter was to his Aunt Sophronsia, informing her that Megan was presently at Maam’s Cross Court with him, and that while he himself would be laid up awhile longer because of a regrettable accident, he would like to send Megan to her in London. He assured her that the girl was a raving beauty, and would doubtless snare a husband within mere weeks of coming up to town, so that her hospitality would be required for only a relatively brief period. He also mentioned the handsome allowance he would make to her as Megan’s chaperone, and trusted that he could consider that matter as settled. If he heard nothing to the contrary, Megan would arrive in London within three weeks. Sealing these messages, Justin heaved a sigh of mingled regret and relief. He felt as though he had just reached out his hand and found a lifeline.

He was up very early the next morning, dispatching Jem with his letters to Galway before he could change his mind. Then he breakfasted sparingly on tea and rolls, to the accompaniment of Mrs. Donovan’s disapproving clucks. When he had finished eating, he took himself off to the library, instructing Mrs. Donovan, who looked skeptical, since she had no idea that he and Megan had reconciled their differences, to send Megan to him when she had risen and breakfasted. Then he settled down to wait, thumbing desultorily through some estate books that could have been in Greek for all the sense they made to him in his current state of mind.

It was nearly ten o’clock when a brief knock on the library door heralded Megan’s arrival. She barely waited for his answering “Come in!” before dancing into the library and closing the door behind her. She leaned back against it for a moment, a warm smile curving her mouth as she looked at him seated behind his desk. Apparently
she,
at least, had had no trouble sleeping, Justin thought wryly, his eyes not missing a single detail of the healthy color that bloomed in her cheeks or the brightness of her eyes. She was dressed in another of those girlish white frocks with a modest round neckline and elbow-length puffed sleeves. To differentiate this one from its fellow, it was adorned with a violet sash that exactly matched the color of her eyes; posies of embroidered violets were scattered across the fullness of her skirt. A ribbon in the same shade of violet confined her hair at the back of her
neck. The simple style threw the beauty of her bone structure and slanted eyes into sharp relief.

“Planning to administer another beating, my lord?” she asked with a twinkle. Remembering their other unfortunate encounter in this room, Justin could not control the answering grin that twitched at the corners of his mouth.

“If I were, it would be to myself,” he responded a shade grimly. “Come in, Megan, and sit down. I want to talk to you.”

“That sounds very ominous and guardian-like,” she observed with no visible abatement of her good humor. Justin eyed her with as much sternness as he could muster in the face of such overwhelming loveliness. His every instinct screamed at him to take her in his arms and kiss her until she was breathless, but he doggedly ignored such base promptings as she obediently settled herself in the chair opposite his desk.

Justin had had hours to prepare what he wanted to say to her, to make her understand that while nothing had happened of which she need be ashamed, their relationship must return to what it was before it had got so out of hand. Looking at her, his carefully prepared speech flew out the window. Searching the book-lined walls for inspiration, he found none. He looked from the many-paned windows with their heavy velvet drapes to the bright-colored carpet without any more success. Finally his eyes returned to Megan’s face, where they lingered with guilty intensity.

“What is it, Justin?” she prompted softly, her smile
fading as she divined the subject that he was finding so hard to introduce. His eyes rueful, he leaned forward, his fingers drumming on the surface of the desk.

“I’ve made arrangements to send you to stay with my Aunt Sophronsia in London,” he said abruptly. “I wrote to her last night, and sent for my traveling coach at the same time. It will take you to your destination. The coach should arrive in a week to ten days. In the meantime, I think it would be best if we saw as little of each other as possible.”

Megan’s face had whitened during this terse speech; now she looked totally stricken. Justin was aware that he had been far harsher than he had meant to be, but he couldn’t help himself. He longed to touch her but steeled himself against the impulse.

“Will you be coming to London, my lord?” she asked. Justin noticed with a sharp pang of regret that she had reverted to the formal mode of address.

“Later,” he said in clipped tones. “At the moment, as you know, I am in no state to travel. But I will do my best to be there for your come-out. As your guardian, it will doubtless be my lot to discourage the legions of your importunate suitors.”

This last heavy attempt at humor fell sadly flat. Megan didn’t even smile, but continued to regard him steadily. “And won’t that bother you, Justin?” she questioned, her voice soft as she looked at him with what he refused to recognize as pleading.

“Undoubtedly it will,” he answered coolly, bracing himself to disregard the hurt his words must cause
her. It was better, by far, that this feeling growing between them be nipped in the bud before it shattered her life forever. He realized that he had made her care for him a little, and he realized too that her healthy young body had responded to his with the first burst of passion that it had ever known. But she was only seventeen, for God’s sake; he had no doubt at all that he was the first man who had ever laid a finger on her in that way. But he would not be, could not be, the last. In the natural way of things, she would of course meet a boy of her own age, and fall in love with him without any of the shame that had marred this, her first sweet flowering. They would marry, and it would be her husband who would initiate her into womanhood. And long before this happened, Megan would cease to think of him, Justin, as anything but her guardian, that is, if she thought of him at all. The kisses and caresses they had exchanged, that had such a galvanizing effect on him, would fade away with all her other barely remembered childhood memories.

“It will undoubtedly be something of a bore, having to fend off dozens of stammering boys who aren’t dry yet behind the ears,” he added with just enough humor to be convincing. He saw her face whiten at the cheerful callousness of his words. But there was no help for it. Painful as this was to both of them, it had to be done. For her sake. “But I’m sure I shall survive it. Just so long as you don’t take too long picking out a husband.”

Her lips quivered. Justin, watching her, wanted to
pick her up in his arms and carry her off and make love to her forever. She looked so lovely, so soft and appealing, that she wrung his heart. But he restrained himself with a powerful effort of will, and her reaction told him that he had done the right thing. Her mouth firmed, her shoulders straightened. Her little chin came up, and those gorgeous eyes, bright with unshed tears but with the beginnings of a healthy anger smoldering in their depths, looked at him squarely. Admiration for her courage rose in him. When she had matured a little, she would be a woman in a million. And he could never have her. For a brief, raging moment, Justin felt like cursing the fate that would deny her to him forever, but allowed nothing to show on his face.

“I will do as you wish, my lord,” she said with great dignity, rising from her chair. Only the pallor of her face betrayed her pain. Justin had to clench his jaws to keep from throwing all his good intentions to the wind. “If I may be excused?” she added with careful politeness. Justin could only nod in reply. His eyes never left her slender back as she left the room.

Over the next few days, Megan avoided her guardian as studiously as she had before, with one major difference: This time, he was just as careful to avoid her. He kept pretty much to his room, even taking his meals there. Megan returned to her previous habit of whiling away time in the stables, not wanting to make him a prisoner in his own house. Justin seemed to divide his time between his bedchamber and the library,
and whichever one he happened to be occupying, the door was always closed firmly behind him.

Just thinking of him hurt Megan more than anything had ever hurt in her life. She had heard the other girls at school talk ad nauseam about falling in love, but she had never realized that it would hurt so much. For she knew that she had fallen hopelessly, helplessly in love with her guardian, the inaccessible Earl who had figured in so many of her childish dreams. He was the handsomest man she had ever seen, so tall and muscular that she felt tiny beside him. She loved everything about him, from his thick black hair to the roughness of his swarthy skin to the golden gleam of his eyes. He could be kind, too, when he wished, and very, very tender. Remembering the gentle care with which he had kissed her, Megan wanted to cry. How could he have kissed her like that, whispered such sweet words to her, if he didn’t care for her at least a little? Megan knew that the answer was obvious, although she hated to admit it. Kisses and caresses were nothing new to him. He kissed ladies all the time, as he had admitted himself. And, undoubtedly, did far more than kiss them. He was a grown man, not a boy, and she must have seemed like a child to him. No doubt she bored him with her inexperience, and that was the real reason why he was sending her away.

Ten days passed, and then eleven, and there was still no sign of Justin’s traveling coach, or an answer to his letter. He was much improved, and had taken to swinging himself about the grounds on his crutch
whenever he thought she was safely out of the way. Megan, watching him sometimes from the vantage point of the stable loft, thought her heart would break. Her love grew stronger every day, feeding on her stolen glimpses of him, and the dreams in which he appeared by night and day dominated all else that touched her. The idea of going to London, which had once held so much appeal, had lost its savor. She knew that once she left Ireland, what she and Justin had shared would be gone forever. He would revert to being the inaccessible Earl, and she would once again be nothing more, or less, than his ward.

She was having trouble eating and sleeping, and she knew that her looks were suffering as a result. Always before, she had taken the silky smoothness of her complexion for granted, but now there were faint smudges of weariness beneath her eyes, and her skin was ghostly pale despite the time she spent out of doors. Her clothes were getting looser, and she realized that she was losing weight. Even Mrs. Donovan had noticed these changes in her appearance, and asked with concern if she was feeling well. Megan knew quite well what was wrong with her, but she was unable to tell Mrs. Donovan the truth, so she said she was perfectly well. She did not know that Mrs. Donovan had felt obliged to mention these alarming symptoms to the Earl, and had her head bitten off for her pains.

Justin, too, was suffering. Like Megan, he had quite lost his appetite and his capacity for sleep. He was as gaunt as she, and if he wasn’t as pale, it was due
entirely to the natural darkness of his skin. He craved her fiercely, and not only for her body; he missed the sweetness of her smile, the sound of her laughter which had come easily and often, the sparkle in those violet eyes when she was amused. He missed the adoring way she had of looking at him, as if he was the most marvelous being in the world. He missed her conversation, her company, the very scent of her. The hardest thing he had ever done in his life was to make no move to heal the breach between them.

Justin had never been in love, in fact did not believe that such a state existed. When his friends confessed sheepishly to having fallen in love with some bewitching creature, Justin had taken their words with a large grain of salt. It had not escaped his notice that his friends tended overwhelmingly to fall in love with ladies who held out for a wedding ring before allowing them into their beds, and there he thought was the answer: They were suffering from a severe case of sexual frustration. Being gentlemen, once the desired objects became their wives, they were forbidden to discuss them in such terms, but Justin had often wondered how long after the ceremony the so-called “love” lasted. From what he had seen of most marriages, not very long at all.