Julia London (93 page)

Dismay engulfed him and he frantically thought how to convince her. “The … the evening you sent me that poem, that poem which
still
plays on in my head,” he sputtered angrily, “I realized how much you meant to me, even though I was committed to another. Just like you, Lauren, at the most critical juncture in my life, I was committed to another. It was insane! Yet I didn’t understand completely just
how
insane until you were gone! I did the hardest thing I have ever had to do and followed you here, with but one thought in mind!” he said angrily.

Lauren buried her face in her hands.

“That one thought was to
find
you and
marry
you. I have this … this
overwhelming
need to give you everything I
can!” he said hoarsely. “I want to give you the whole God-dammed world to make you happy!”

Lauren caught a sob in her throat as he leaned forward, his face just inches from hers. “I
love
you, Lauren! How many ways can I say it? I love you more than I thought humanly possible. I love your wit and the fact that you quote old proverbs and English poets. I love your undying loyalty to your family. I
love,
” he choked, “that you would give yourself so completely to those children and treat each and every one of them as if they were your own.”

Her body shook from the force of another wrenching sob. “Today, more than ever, I love you,” he hastily continued. “I want to marry you, and I don’t give a damn what anyone thinks. What matters to me is that you are who you are—guileless, beautiful, and so giving of yourself.
That
is what this is all about!” he shouted, gesturing wildly around them. “Do you understand me? We made
love
and Goddammit, I heard
your
admission of love! I bloody well
felt
it!”

She fell to her side, crying uncontrollably.

Disbelieving, Alex gaped at her. “Lauren,
please
do not do this,” he begged her.

After what seemed to him like a hundred years, she slowly raised herself. “You don’t understand. I have ruined your life,” she muttered hopelessly, and shook her head when he attempted to debate that. “Whatever you do, my presence will always poison it! I cannot allow that to happen, don’t you see? The people of this country
need
someone like you, Alex! Rosewood cannot possibly survive without the reforms you can make happen!”

“I don’t care!” he shouted.

She gasped through another uncontrollable sob. “And … and I have made a commitment I
must
honor. I cannot do this to him.”

“Cannot do this to
him
?” Alex echoed incredulously as the pounding of his heart rapidly intensified. Teetering on a precipice of complete dejection, his eyes suddenly swept her
naked body, the flush of their lovemaking still glowing on her fair skin. It sickened him—she had ripped his heart in half. He glared at the streaks of tears on her face, the pathetic way she hugged herself. Damn her, but she was beautiful, and he suddenly hated her for it. The woman had sorely abused his love, and a rage like he had never known blinded him.

He lunged for her, shoving her onto her back.

“Alex!”
she shrieked.

Determined, he angrily grabbed her flailing arms and pinned her to the ground beneath him. “Perhaps I was not persuasive enough,” he muttered bitterly, and crushed his lips to hers, kissing her fiercely. It caught him as much by surprise as it did her, and it unnerved him badly. He recoiled; even now, the wicked little angel was capable of evoking a response, and that only heightened his rage.

His loathing was suddenly like a river, running deep. Loathing of himself. For loving her. For being a damned slave to it. It frightened him; he would not have thought it possible to be brought to his knees, begging violently for the return of his affections.

Wild with fury, he kissed her again, battering her lips with his tongue. At first she refused him, her lips pressed tightly together. But he would not relent, madly convinced she did not yet understand, that he could
make
her understand. Gradually, the stiffness began to ebb from her body and she began to respond to his fury. He gentled the kiss, touching her tenderly, his hands caressing her satin skin. Lauren’s teary eyes did not waver from his face as he positioned himself between her legs and slowly entered her. “Do you feel it?” he whispered hoarsely. “Do you
feel
how much I love you?”

She nodded. “I feel it,” she whispered. “And I love you Alex. You must know that I love you with all my heart.” More tears slipped from her eyes. He groaned and lowered himself to her, longing to release himself deep inside her, to
bury himself to the hilt. He crushed his mouth to hers in another gentle assault to block out her tear-filled eyes. His heart simply could not accept what he knew would come.

Almost unconsciously he moved inside her, aware that when she reached her climax, the words of love she whispered would be the last. He found his own release more violently than before, and lay against her, unwilling to accept that he had lost her.

“Oh, Alex, my love,”
she whispered sadly.

He dislodged himself from her and rolled away, his breath harsh in his lungs. He dragged his gaze to the object of his pain. Emotionally and physically spent, she lay on her side, her face covered in the crook of her arm, her shoulders trembling with silent tears. His heart lurched painfully—he stumbled to his feet, yanked on his trousers, then his boots.

“Alex,
please
try to understand…”

He would never understand, not in a thousand years would he understand. And for that, she could rot in her little Bavarian hell for all he cared. He plunged his arms into his shirt, and gathering the rest of his clothes, he stalked out of the little cottage without looking back. Once on Jupiter’s back, he gave the cottage a final glance, then spurred Jupiter with all his might, galloping away from her and the indescribable pain that engulfed him like a raging fire.

A steady rain had begun two days ago, when Paul told her Alex had returned to London. For two days she had sat in the same chair, staring out the same window. Staring into the same blank landscape.

Seated in a chair pulled up to the drawing room window, Lauren watched the path of rain rivulets on the glass panes. She had never known such misery. Nothing could ease her heartache; every time she closed her eyes she saw Alex striding away from her, half-dressed. Half-mad. She had no one to blame but herself. He had professed a depth of love that still made her tremble. And she, in all her infinite wisdom, had ignored the utterance of his heart, as if their love-making had meant nothing. No wonder he had looked at her with such loathing.

She loathed herself.

Not only had she turned away—
rejected
—the only man she would ever love, she had betrayed Magnus. Deeply ashamed, she could hardly bear to look at him any longer. That she could betray him so completely just four days before
they would marry sickened her. The whole, sordid mess sickened her. She hardly knew herself any longer—she was a woman who had betrayed two men and had destroyed another woman’s future as well as herself in the process.

One of those men was seated on the couch, quietly reading. For two days, while she had stared out the window, he had sat on that couch, reading. She forced herself to look at Magnus. As if sensing her thoughts, he glanced up and smiled thinly before lowering his gaze to his book again. It was obvious that she was making him miserable, sucking him into her nightmare. Magnus did not deserve this. He was a good, decent man. How sad that she would never love him, not like—

“Do you like it?”

Lauren started and looked toward the door as Lydia bounced into the room, wearing one of her London gowns Mrs. Peterman had altered. Lauren smiled weakly as Lydia twirled around. “You are beautiful, Lydia,” she murmured. Magnus glanced up briefly, but quickly resumed reading.

“It is
divine.
” Lydia sighed with all the angst of a thirteen year-old, and fell onto a settee. “Why don’t you want it any longer?”

“I have no need for it. Mrs. Peterman did a fine job, did she not? You will be the prettiest girl at the harvest assembly.”

“I hope Ramsey Baines thinks so! He has hardly even
looked
at me since the church picnic!” she moaned, and sat up, meticulously arranging the full skirts to their best advantage. “He dotes on Eugenia Prenshaw, but when he sees me in
this
, he’ll change his mind!”

Lauren frowned. The girl was obsessed with Ramsey Baines, constantly incensed that the young man held some sort of unshakable esteem for the plain daughter of a solicitor. Master Baines seemed to be Lydia’s single goal in life, but from everything Lauren had seen, the young man’s single goal was Eugenia Prenshaw. “I am quite certain he will
notice how lovely you are, Lydia, but you mustn’t set your hopes too high. One cannot hope to contrive the affections of another; it must come naturally.”

Magnus looked up from his book at that and thoughtfully considered her as Lydia sprang to her feet and wandered impatiently to the hearth. “But if he thinks
me
lovely, then he will no longer love Eugenia!” she protested. “She is not so very pretty, you know.”

“Too much pride is unbecoming, darling,” Lauren softly rebuked her.

Lydia sighed heavily and wandered to the window, tracing her finger down the edge of one pane. “I don’t
mean
to be prideful, but everyone says I am much prettier than Eugenia Prenshaw, so Ramsey Baines must think so, too. And when he sees me in a gown as fine as this, he shall love me, I know he shall.

When had such monstrous conceit overtaken Lydia? “
‘Beauty lives within the eye of the beholder.’
Do you know what that means? Sometimes, the most beautiful people are not the most handsome. Ramsey Baines sees a beauty in Miss Prenshaw that attracts him, and you cannot force him to have that same affection for you. It must come naturally.”

Lydia came to her side and leaned against the chair, swaying softly as she absently fingered a curl on Lauren’s head. “But it did not come naturally for you, and now you love Count Bergen! When you came home from Bavaria, you said he was a goat, but he made you love him. Why can’t I make Ramsey Baines love me just the same?”

“I respect the count.” The words rolled off her tongue without thought or feeling, as if she had rehearsed it a thousand times. Unwillingly, she glanced at Magnus from the corner of her eye; he was watching her closely.

“There, you see? He made you change your mind,” Lydia observed, stroking her hair. “I should think it only a matter of determination,” she said with supreme authority.

For the first time in her life, Lauren felt angry with Lydia for being so incredibly foolish and unwilling to see that she would only harm herself with such coquettish ideas. She responded sharply, “He may fall prey to your good looks for a time, my dear, but soon enough he will not be able to hide what simply is not there.” Holy Mother, what was she
saying
?

Clearly startled, Lydia stepped away from the chair and shrugged defiantly. “So?”

“So? You will always wonder if he is thinking of Eugenia when he looks at you!” she cried angrily.

“Lauren…” The count’s deep voice carried a warning that she ignored.

“Day after day, you will find yourself wondering if his smile is for
you
or if he is daydreaming of
her
! Every word he speaks will be held up to your scrutiny to see if it is sincerely spoken! When he goes to London for a day, you will wonder if he goes to Eugenia!”

“Lauren!”
Magnus said more forcefully.

Lydia’s face fell. Her bottom lip trembled slightly as she looked down at her new gown. “But … but he
might
learn to love me!” she said softly.

“No! He will
not
! You cannot
force
him!” she cried, her voice breaking. She gripped the arms of her chair. What was she doing? Taking her frustration out on Lydia, that was what. She came swiftly to her feet and hugged Lydia tightly to her. “I am sorry, I did not mean to speak so harshly. Oh, darling, I so want you to be happy, but I don’t think you will be if you try to force the lad to return your affections. Perhaps he will come to esteem you, but if he does not, if he loves Eugenia, then there are plenty of boys in England who would die for just a smile from you.”

Lydia sniffed against her shoulder. “But I love Ramsey Baines,” she muttered stubbornly.

Distressed, Lauren sighed. “Do you know what I think? I think lilac would look very well with your new gown.”

“Really?” Lydia asked, pulling away from her. “There is some in the garden.”

“I think the rain has broken for a time. Why don’t you fetch some and try it?” Lauren urged.

“Oh yes, that’s a wonderful idea!” Lydia proclaimed, and hurried to the door, seemingly oblivious to Magnus, who had come to his feet.

“Be careful not to soil your dress!” Lauren called.

“I won’t!” her youthful voice echoed as she rushed from the room. Lauren stared after her, completely spent. Her own words had done a rather fine job of pointing out the tremendous mistake she was about to make. She could hardly ignore her own advice, could she? A sense of bitter relief suddenly washed over her as she carefully resumed her seat. Days of frustration were gone, replaced by a new anguish—the anguish of facing a horrid task, of hurting someone for whom she cared. A painful pounding started at her temples the moment Magnus spoke.

“Are you angry?” he asked, frowning.

“No!” she exclaimed, a little too emphatically, and shifted uncomfortably.

“What is on your mind,
liebchen
? You look as if you have something you would say.” Yes, but her tongue suddenly felt the size of a watermelon. “What is it, Lauren?” Magnus asked quietly.

The pounding in her head was deafening. She glanced uncertainly at him. How could she, practically on the eve of their wedding, tell him she could not marry him? How could she
not
! Heaven help her, she could not be with him day after day and long for Alex. She thought too much of him to
… to try and hide what simply was not there.
Oh
God
, she regretted not coming to this conclusion sooner! She slowly sank into her chair.