Heartless (38 page)

His hold tightened fiercely around her. He rested his cheek on the top of her head. “Trust me, Ariel,” he whispered. “I won't fail you again.” God, it felt so good just to hold her, to smell the scent of lilac that drifted up from her hair.

“You're shivering,” he said. “I've dampened your clothes.”

“It doesn't matter.” Her arms slid up around his neck. “Nothing matters except that it's me you want and not someone else.”

Justin crushed her against him. “I want you,” he said hoarsely. “I'll always want you.” And then he was tilting her head back, taking her mouth in a hard, possessive kiss, claiming her as he had wanted to do for so long. When she opened to him, welcoming the sweep of his tongue, the darkness inside him seemed to fade and slowly disappear.

“Justin…” she whispered, clinging to him as if she'd never let him go. He kissed her again, softly, deeply, wanting her, certain now that she wanted him, too. His hands shook as he began to unbutton her beautiful golden gown. He would make her his, banish her chill with the heat of his body. The gown fell open and he slid it off her shoulders. It pooled on the floor as he lifted her into his arms and carried her over to the bed.

“God, I've missed you,” he whispered. “I've missed you so much.” Another hungry kiss, Ariel kissing him as fiercely as he was kissing her.

They made love urgently, wildly, making up for the time they had lost.

Afterward, he curled her against his side and simply held her, his fingers stroking gently over her hair. She was exhausted from the tension of the evening. Eventually her eyes slowly closed and she drifted off to sleep. In slumber, the worry was gone from her face, the uncertainty that had haunted her for so long. He wanted to see it banished forever and vowed he would do whatever it took to make that happen.

He thought of his sister's cruelty, the doubt she had worked so hard to instill, and his jaw hardened. If Barbara persisted in causing trouble, he would see her removed from Greville Hall. If it weren't for Thomas, he would do so now, this very night. But he didn't have the heart to uproot the child and send him away.

He knew only too well what it felt like to be shuffled from one place to the next, with no real family, no place to call home.

Still, Barbara's hostile attitude was going to change. If it didn't and that meant sending her away, so be it. One way or another, his sister's cruelty was coming to an end. Barbara would soon learn the consequences should she ever make trouble for either of them again.

He owed it to Ariel. And, he suddenly realized, he owed it to himself.

*   *   *

In the sitting room of the sumptuous master suite the following day, Barbara stood rigid, waiting for the door to close behind her brother's retreating figure. The moment he disappeared out of sight, her hands balled into fists.

“How dare he!” Anger bubbled like acid in her throat.
How dare he!
She whirled toward the writing desk in the corner and marched in that direction. It took a moment to calm herself enough to remove the quill pen and dip it into the inkwell. Even then, tiny drops trailed across the top of the sheet of paper.

“Dearest Phillip,” she began, then frowned and hastily scratched through the words. Wadding up the paper, she tossed it away and drew out a second clean sheet. “My darling Phillip…” In the body of the letter, she described her encounter with her brother, how Justin had railed at her, threatened to toss her out of the house—a house that rightfully belonged to her son!—spilling out all of the bile she carried inside, knowing he was the single person in the world who would sympathize.

Telling him it was time to go forward with their plan.

She signed it: “With all my love, Barbara,” sealed it with wax, and rang for a footman to see it delivered. Her hands no longer trembled. The anger simmered now, just below the surface. Justin might think he had won, and for the present she would let him believe it. But not for long. Oh, no, not for long.

The stakes were high, the risks great, but the game would soon be over.

Barbara hadn't the slightest doubt that ultimately she would be the winner.

*   *   *

The weather cleared. The first rays of dawn broke over the horizon, the crisp, chill air turning his breath to frosty plumes as Justin made his way to the stable. A young groom named Michael O'Flaharty emerged from the shadows, having quickly adapted to his master's early-morning routine.

Each day at sunup, Justin left the house and set off over the rolling hills of the estate he had only just begun to think of as truly belonging to him. Until his recent arrival with Ariel, shadows of an unpleasant past had kept him away. Greville Hall had been his father's pride and joy, a monument to his money and fine sense of taste. The earl had made it a showplace. With his daughter in residence, the earl had spent most of his time there.

For Justin, the lovely stone mansion nestled in the verdant Surrey countryside had embodied all that his father cherished, all that his son was denied.

Justin's mother, the daughter of a squire named William Bedford, had lived, for a time, in a cottage not far away. As a boy, Justin had spent hours prowling the fields around the house, watching, with an aching sense of loss, the comings and goings of the father who refused to claim him.

Though the house now belonged to him and had for several years, the memories it held had simply been too painful.

He discovered that was no longer true.

Justin filled his lungs with the crisp morning air and set his heels lightly to the sleek bay hunter Michael had saddled for him. The animal was lean and well muscled, and keenly perceptive of his commands. The earl had been a good judge of horses and it showed in the finely bred stock in his stable.

My
stable, Justin corrected. The beautiful bay hunter belonged to him now. It shouldn't be so difficult a thing to remember.

He nudged the bay into a canter and rode off down the hill. A small copse of trees marked the path in the distance. He rode the same way almost every morning, traveling through the forest, then fanning out on the opposite side in different directions, learning the land that belonged to him. Chiding himself for not doing so long before this, admitting that if Barbara hadn't been in residence he would have.

But Barbara's bitterness could no longer hurt him, and little by little the shadows were slipping away, the hurtful memories fading, replaced by new, sweet memories he was only just beginning to create. Memories of his time with Ariel.

In the months since she had come into his life, the shroud of darkness that engulfed him had begun to fade, letting in the light of a promising future.

Just thinking about her made a yearning rise in his chest that was almost painful. It was amazing how important she had become to him, how he looked forward to returning to the house to find her waiting, how sweet it was to simply share a meal with her. A single night of lovemaking with Ariel was more pleasurable than all of the hours combined he had spent in the arms of other women.

It frightened him a little, these feelings she stirred, when he had been so certain no feeling at all existed in the icy cavern he called a heart. He wasn't exactly sure how to deal with them, or even precisely what to call them, and since he remained uncertain, he decided to simply enjoy them for as long as they lasted.

Justin reined the bay down into the trees, the naked branches casting long, thin fingers of shadow across his face. Up ahead, the brambles grew thicker, blocking the watery sunlight and shrouding the trail in darkness, a narrow winding path in search of the light on the opposite side. He ducked beneath the branches of a yew tree, the needles white with frost and rustling against his cloak as he passed.

The trail dropped into a slight depression, and the horse's ears perked up. The muscles in the animal's legs went stiff, and the animal shied a bit off the trail.

“Easy, boy.” Justin patted the horse's neck and urged him forward, but the bay sidestepped and began to dance. “What is it, boy?” The gelding blew nervously, and Justin searched the underbrush, looking for the source of the animal's distress.

He spotted the three rough-looking men in the dense growth of foliage the same instant a shot rang out and a sharp, burning pain slammed into his shoulder.

Footpads—bloody hell!
Whirling the horse, he leaned over the gelding's neck, and the animal leaped forward, eyes wild, nostrils flaring at the smell of Justin's blood.

“Get 'im!” one of the men shouted, breaking out of the brush and rushing toward him. “Don't let the blighter get away!” Another took off through the woods, trying to cut off his trail. Justin spotted him through the heavy growth of vines and shrubs, caught the glint of metal as the man aimed his pistol. Justin reined the horse hard to the left, into the cover of the trees. The pistol roared, the ball whizzing by so close he could feel the
whoosh
of the wind past his cheek.

His shoulder throbbed. His shirt and riding coat were soaked with blood. He set his teeth against the pain and urged the horse left again, made a sharp right around a tree, ducked beneath the branches, and cut left again, racing toward the sunlight and the distant hilly fields. The third man appeared out of nowhere, stepping into his path, grabbing the horse's bridle, sending the frightened animal up on its hind legs and nearly unseating him.

Justin cursed. The horse whinnied in fear, his front legs pawing the air, the hooves dangerously sharp and only inches from the brigand's face. He hurled himself out of the way and swung the pistol upward. Justin lashed out with his boot, slammed it into the man's thick wrist, and heard a yelp of pain. The gun fired harmlessly into the air and careened into the trees. Another hard kick sent his assailant flying, landing with a grunt in the dirt, and Justin rode hard for the edge of the forest.

Bright sunlight broke through the branches up ahead. The gelding stumbled and nearly went down, righted himself, and kept on going. They reached the opening to the sound of another gunshot, and Justin urged the horse into a flat-out run. In seconds they had reached the crest of the hill and disappeared out of range down the opposite side.

It was a damned good thing. He had lost so much blood he was beginning to feel dizzy, and he wasn't sure how much longer he could stay conscious. Clamping his jaw, he locked his arms around the gelding's neck, loosened the rein, and gave the horse his head.

The thunder of hooves and the bone-jarring pain in his shoulder were the last things he remembered until he heard Ariel's scream.

She was crying, he saw when he summoned the strength to pry open his eyes, and among his muzzy thoughts came the painful notion that he had somehow hurt her again.

C
HAPTER
T
WENTY-FOUR

Ariel closed the door to Justin's room and followed the physician out into the hall. She was surprised to find Barbara waiting, pacing up and down the corridor, looking—for Barbara—decidedly unkempt.

“How badly is he injured, Dr. Marvin?” Justin's sister asked, hurrying to join them. “Is he going to be all right?”

“Lord Greville was fortunate in the extreme.” The doctor, a gray-haired man in his sixties, removed the quizzing glass still fixed in a watery blue eye. “The lead ball passed cleanly through the shoulder. Not much damage was done to muscle or bone, though he's lost a good deal of blood. There is always the chance that the wound will putrefy, but I've had quite good luck with the medicinal powders I used, and barring that occurrence, the earl should be back on his feet in no time.”

Ariel sagged with relief. “Thank God.”

“What on earth could have happened?” Barbara asked. “Was he able to explain?”

“He said something about footpads,” Ariel told her, surprised at Barbara's concern. Perhaps in some small way, Justin's sister actually cared about him. It seemed impossible, but it certainly appeared to be true.

“Footpads?” Barbara's black brows shot up.

“Yes,” the doctor said. “I gather there were three of them. Apparently, they were after his purse.”

Barbara rolled her eyes. “And I thought we were safe this far away from the city.”

“They must have been watching his movements,” Ariel suggested. “Justin is a man of habit. It would be easy to learn his daily routine.”

“Or they simply may have stumbled upon him and thought a man alone would be easy prey,” Barbara put in. “I shall have to keep a closer eye on Thomas. They might take it into their heads to abduct him for ransom.”

“You needn't worry about that, dear lady.” The doctor patted her shoulder. “I shall stop by the sheriff's office on my way home. If those brigands remain in the neighborhood, the sheriff and his men will make short work of them.”

“Thank you,” Ariel said. “I shall also send word. I'm certain the authorities will wish to speak to my husband.”

Dr. Marvin nodded and Ariel thanked him for his help. While Barbara showed him to the door, Ariel returned to Justin's bedside.

He was sleeping, the draught the doctor had given him providing the rest he needed. Still, she was worried. She had never been more frightened in her life than the moment she had seen him being carried into the entry. With his eyes closed and his chest covered in blood, for an instant she had been certain he was dead. The pain in that moment was nearly unbearable.

She didn't remember screaming, but she must have, for his gray, pain-filled eyes cracked open and slowly fixed on her face. When a brief smile touched his lips, Ariel knew that he lived. Love for him swept over her, welled up in her chest, wrapped tightly around her heart.

Ignoring her worry, she had swiftly taken charge. In minutes, Justin lay abed upstairs, resting peacefully, his wound cleaned and bandaged, the doctor summoned.