Julia London (97 page)
Authors: Wicked Angel The Devil's Love
He clenched his jaw against a soaring indignation at the mere mention of that man’s name.
“I cannot stop thinking about you, you know. I have … oh God, I have relived your words over and over again until I think I will go mad!”
He
had
gone mad. He had relived every moment of that morning, over and over, a thousand times over. Their union. Her refusal. A shot of pain ripped down his spine as he remembered her lying naked in that cottage, prepared to marry that German. “I have nothing to say to you,” he said hoarsely. “Get out and don’t come here again.” He pivoted away from her to stare blindly out the window, his body rigid.
Lauren’s knees buckled; she caught the edge of the desk and stared at his broad back. It was over! God help her, it was over. She had lost him. Humiliated, she retreated, unseeing, to the door. It was foolish to have come here. It was wrong to have ever
loved
him! God, what had she been thinking when she had come to London? Why hadn’t she just let it die?
Her hand closed around the brass door handle, and she slowly pulled it open.
You belong with me.
He had whispered those words to her in the cottage, and she knew in her heart that he had believed them. He had come for her. He had forsaken his duty—everything—and had come for her. The memory suddenly made her angry. This had been impossible for them both, yet he seemed to think his pain was greater, that he was the only one who had suffered.
She glanced over her shoulder. He was still standing at the window, his hands clasped tightly behind his back, his legs braced apart. How
dare
he? Her hurt, her anger, her frustration, all bubbled to the surface, and she suddenly
shoved the door shut and whirled around to face him. The sound startled him; he jerked around, his eyes blazing. “You are a hypocrite, Alex! You said I belonged with you and I
believed
you!” she cried out in anger.
“God’s blood,” he cursed furiously, and quickly turned away again. “You don’t belong with
anyone
Lauren! You are a selfish—”
“Selfish?”
she gasped in disbelief, then laughed hysterically. “Of course! I am so bloody selfish, aren’t I? That is why I have
humiliated
myself in front of the whole damned
ton
just for the one chance to tell you that I love you desperately, Alex! I have loved you from the moment you appeared at Rosewood, and God help me, I shall go to my
grave
loving you!”
He half-turned, his expression livid. “Please God, spare me this little scene, madam. It is too …
pathetic
,” he said acidly, and folded his arms defensively across his chest.
Damn him!
Damn him!
She marched into the middle of the room and furiously swiped at the tears on her face. “Do you hurt so much that you want only to destroy me, Alex?”
He snorted contemptuously. “Don’t flatter yourself. I feel nothing for you!”
“You are a
liar
! I
know
how badly you are hurting—because I hurt
just
as badly, whether you want to believe it or not! But at least I am not lying to myself!”
His nostrils flared, and he unconsciously tightened his arms across his chest. “I do not lie to you
or
myself, madam. Whatever I foolishly thought I felt for you is blessedly gone! Dashed! It has been pummeled and beaten out of me until it cannot be resurrected, do you understand? Do not be a fool and delude yourself into thinking otherwise!” he shouted.
He could have knifed her in the heart and it would not have hurt so much, but she knew he was lying. She raised her chin. “Don’t delude yourself! Or are you so very arrogant
to believe you are the
only
one to have felt the shackles of your duty and your word?”
His eyes narrowed dangerously, but he did not respond.
“Rest assured, I
know
what it is like to love without hope,” she stubbornly continued. “To … to dread the night because dreams of you torture my very soul.”
He blinked rapidly; she noticed for the first time the bright sheen in his green eyes. He knew, too, and her traitorous heart went out to him. “I
know
, Alex! I know what it is like to love so
completely
that I would forsake everything for one
touch
! I would sell my soul for your kiss. You have my heart in your very hands, don’t you know that?”
Her wrenching words echoed in the silence, snaking into the empty pit of his soul. “I don’t have your bloody heart, goddammit!” he snapped furiously, refusing to acknowledge the painful tightening of his chest at the lie. “If that was true, you would have never let me walk away that morning! How could you have let me walk out that door, Lauren?” he roared. A tremble overtook his body at the force of his emotions. He felt the sting of tears in his eyes, and hastily turned his back to her. But he heard her strangled sob.
“Because of your
work
, Alex! Everyone said you were the only one who could do it. You were the only one who could change things for so many people! For
Rosewood!
The whole
country
needed you, not just me! I didn’t want to ruin your career. I had already caused enough damage, enough scandal. And … and I had given my word to another. My sacred word!” She made a sound of grief. He grimaced; the pain of her rejection, so vivid and strong just moments before, was slipping away like the tears he suddenly could not control.
“God, I am so
sorry
! I could give you the heavens and it would not convey how sorry I am!” she sobbed. He turned slowly and looked at her, his face ravaged. “But I belong with you, and you
know
in your heart it is true! If you can’t
believe that, if you can’t forgive me that which you yourself are guilty of, then give me back my heart! Give it
back
, Alex! I want it
back
!” she demanded wildly.
A moment of stunned silence passed. A moment of clarity when his love for her strangled the remnants of his anger. “No,” he said hoarsely, and winced as she covered her face with her hands in abject defeat. “You gave it to me. God knows maybe I don’t deserve it, but I won’t relinquish it, not now, not ever. It belongs to me.”
Lauren stopped breathing, and slowly lifted her face to look at him in astonishment.
“I’m sorry, angel,” he uttered softly, and shakily brushed the tears from one eye. “Please forgive me for hurting you,” he choked. Doubt flicked across her face, and his heart lurched in his chest. “If you can’t forgive me, then at least promise me you will continue to walk past my house every day at three o’clock.” He glanced at the window. “Promise me you will walk by that window so I may be suitably reminded—every damned day—that had I not been blinded by my foolish,
foolish
pride, you would have been mine.”
She gasped softly, and he turned to her, smiling tremulously. “Then … then, I belong with you?” she whispered in wonder.
“You must belong with me, angel, because I have your heart just here,” he said hoarsely, and tapped his chest. “And God knows I have been without mine all these tortuous weeks.” With a cry, she flung herself into his arms, tears spilling from her glorious eyes. Silently he promised himself that he would never pass another day without gazing into them, and smothered her in a fierce, soul-claiming kiss. “Forgive me, Lauren,” he murmured.
“Forgive me.”
Hannah had waited at least a half hour outside his study, pacing nervously. She could not hear a blasted
thing
! She
had expected the shouting, but that had ended some time ago. And now there was nothing—just silence.
The turning of the door handle startled her out of her wits, and she quickly jumped to one side, behind a console. Alex emerged first, dragging the countess with a hand wrapped tightly around her wrist; she was running to keep up. He was throwing her out! Defeated, Hannah sagged against the wall as they hurried down the corridor. Oh, that wretched son of hers! Could he not
see
how much they loved each other? Stupid man!
She pushed away from the wall, prepared to intervene, when the countess caught his arm and stopped him. To Hannah’s amazement, she reached up on her tiptoes and whispered something into Alex’s ear. He threw back his head with a hearty laugh. “By God, you
are
a wicked little angel!” He kissed her hard on the lips, then swept her into his arms. Hannah pressed a hand over her mouth as Alex took the stairs two at a time as the countess smothered him with kisses.
As they disappeared into the floors above, she strolled out from behind the console, her hands on her hips. “My, my, the
impropriety
!” With a gay laugh, she turned on her heel and walked in the opposite direction, smiling broadly.
Paul Anthony Christian was born at Sutherland Hall in the late fall of 1830, with his mother’s dark blue eyes and a shock of his father’s brown hair. He was a lusty child, and when Alex held his son in his arms for the first time, he felt the draw of unending love starting at the tips of his toes and spilling out of every pore. With Hannah at his shoulder, he stuck his little finger in the boy’s tiny mouth. Tiny fingers curled around his, making his finger look like a sausage. Delighted, he turned to Lauren. “He is beautiful, angel. Beautiful and perfect,” Alex said proudly.
“You did not think he was perfect a half hour ago,” she said with a weary smile of great pride.
Alex walked to the side of the bed, holding his newborn in one arm, and sat gingerly beside her. “It did seem a rather frightening prospect at the time.”
Lauren laughed and held out her arms. Alex carefully handed her the baby, then observed with frank fascination as she held the baby to her breast to suckle. The vision created
of a mother and her child was beautifully moving, and Alex was barely able to contain his emotion.
“He was a loud one, wasn’t he?” Lauren smiled as she caressed his little cheek.
“My mother groaned, my father wept, into the dangerous world I leapt. Helpless, naked, piping loud, like a fiend hid in the cloud.”
She yawned, missing Alex’s playful role of his eyes. Hannah chuckled; they were all quite accustomed to Lauren’s little quotations for every occasion.
It was not long before Lauren’s lids began to grow heavy, but little Paul did not seem remotely sated. At Alex’s worried look, the baby’s new nurse came and took him. “He shall be a healthy little tike, your grace,” she said as she took the child from his mother.
“Of course he will. He shall be a leader of men,” Lauren sighed softly, her lids fluttering closed. Alex leaned forward and brushed his lips across her forehead. “Thank you, darling. The greatest gift you have ever given me is my son,” he whispered. With her eyes closed, she smiled. Alex lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed her fingers, then with his mother, left the room to allow his wife to sleep.
In the summer of the following year, when Alex was convinced his strapping young son was strong enough for travel, he took Lauren and little Paul to the extensively renovated Dunwoody. They arrived with a coterie of nurses and maids, and infused a life into the old manor house it had not seen in decades. The shout of children’s laughter and the gurgling of a happy infant could be heard in all corners of the house.
When Arthur arrived for a visit several weeks later, he found the duke and duchess sitting on the back terrace, watching a handful of frolicking children on the bowling lawn below them. Nearby, a plump nurse kept an eagle eye on the heir to the Sutherland fortune. “My God, is this the
same Dunwoody?” he asked appreciatively after exchanging warm greetings and settling into a wrought iron chair.
“Amazing, is it not?” Alex chuckled. He pointed to a young man of about fourteen who was standing in the middle of the children with his arms folded across his chest. His face was marred by a large splash of purple, but none of the other children seemed to notice. A little girl leaned against one leg as the young man peered down at Master Christian.
“That is Leonard,” Alex explained. “Hanging onto his leg is my son’s most ardent admirer, Sally. She is wont to smother Paul with kisses, which Leonard fiercely resists. He is quite afraid she might succeed, and, I rather think, so am I.”
Lauren laughed. “There,” she smiled, pointing, “is Theodore, who has his nose in a new science book. The boy with the rapier—” she paused, frowning disapprovingly at Alex, “—is Horace. He shall be the captain of all Alex’s ships one day. Simultaneously, I understand.”
“Who is the young lady?” Arthur asked.
Lauren sighed. “
That
is Lydia. Honestly, she’ll be the death of me yet. I had no idea so many eligible young gentleman lived in and around Pemberheath!” she exclaimed. “Uncle Ethan is forever grousing about the constant stream of young gentleman callers.”
“When he is not counting their fortunes, you mean,” Alex playfully reminded her, to which Lauren laughed.
Arthur dragged his gaze from the pretty fifteen year-old and glanced at his sister-in-law with admiration. Since the birth of her child, she had an air of sophisticated maturity about her. Lauren was, he thought a little enviously, stunningly beautiful. How fortunate it was that the scandal of their marriage had faded with the birth of the heir. His mother was right; no one would turn against the Duke of Sutherland for long, no matter what crime he was perceived to have committed. And it had only been a matter of time before Lauren had charmed her way into the
ton’s
heart
once again. Now everyone proclaimed the Sutherland marriage the love match of the decade.
“I have news from London,” Arthur announced. “Paddy and Mrs. Clark have at long last overtaken the championship of the loo tables. This feat, I am given to understand, is eclipsed only by the number of games my sister-in-law lost one particular Season. Twenty-six hands in one outing?” he asked laughingly.
Lauren squealed gaily. “It was only
six
, I swear it!”
Alex caught her hand and squeezed it affectionately. “Paddy would not exaggerate, angel. It is rather well known that you are horrid at loo.”
“I have more news. As you know, since Paul and I have become partners in the investment venture I started some months ago, I have occasion to see him. He has sent a letter along, no doubt full of his excitement at having been elected to the Commons. Swears he has the votes for the economic reforms,” Arthur said, smiling, and handed a note to Lauren.
Beaming, Lauren eagerly opened the missive and scanned it quickly, then lifted a glorious smile to her husband and brother-in-law. “Everyone in the
whole
parish knows of Paul Hill, you know. We are all quite proud of him! And he is so very happy, because
‘the entire sum of existence is the magic of being needed by just one person,’
” she said, beaming proudly.
Alex exchanged a look with Arthur. “A new book,” he offered blandly.
“I have news for you, brother. Thought you might be interested to know that your very own randy cousin, David Westfall, is quite smitten,” Arthur continued.
“My God,” Alex exclaimed. “Do tell!”
“Rumor has it he will offer for Lady Marlaine by the end of the Season.” Much to Arthur’s delight, Alex and Lauren exchanged looks of amazement, then grinned happily at one another.
“How very wonderful!” Lauren exclaimed, genuinely happy.
“And how very extraordinary,” Alex chuckled. “It rather explains—” He paused, shook his head lightly, and smiled at Arthur. “I couldn’t be happier for them.”
A cry rose from the lawn and Lauren quickly came to her feet. Little Paul was holding on to his rattler and crying loudly. “If you will excuse me,” she said, and skipped down the terrace steps to the children below. Alex and Arthur both admired her graceful movement as she walked out to the blanket spread on the lawn. Several of the children ran forward to assure her they had done nothing to the baby. The men could hear her melodious laughter as she assured them that babies often cried for no apparent reason.
“She’s a breath of fresh air, Alex. You were an idiot for almost letting her slip away.”
“Thank you for that gentle reminder,” Alex snorted.
Arthur chuckled as Lauren fell to her knees beside the wailing Paul and scooped him onto her lap. “It’s a wonder she doesn’t remind you each day.”
“Rest assured, she does—unwittingly. Not two days ago, we received word that Madgoose, on some
insane
excursion, heroically rescued a young Englishwoman kidnapped and held for ransom by a Russian prince. Rather exciting story, really, but when I saw the look in Lauren’s eyes, I realized how close I had come to losing her. She is, remarkably, rather fond of that damned Bavarian.”
Arthur glanced at his brother from the corner of his eye and felt a small tug around his heart. He was constantly amazed by how much Alex loved her. What was it he had said of her? She was all that was grace to him.
Below them, the baby Lauren was holding put up a valiant struggle to be freed. Once she realized the boy would not be calmed, Lauren relented and handed him over to his nanny, who began a prompt march for the young boy’s cradle. Lauren stayed a little longer on the lawn, talking with
the children who obviously adored her. Eventually, she started back to the terrace. As she walked slowly toward them, Arthur chuckled.
“What?” Alex asked.
“It’s an irreverent thought,” Arthur mused, and slanted a devilish look at Alex. “I had an idea for a small wager on what she might say.”
“Say? About what?”
“That’s irrelevant,” Arthur chuckled. “My wager is that it is a quotation.” Alex looked at him as if he had lost all semblance of reason. “Come now, Alex, surely you have noticed she has a penchant for quoting old proverbs and poems, particularly when she has just received a new book?” Arthur laughed.
“It is part of her rather enormous and immeasurable charm,” Alex responded playfully.
“Nonetheless—come on, quick with your answer, she is drawing near. A gold sovereign for my very fine nephew if she utters a quote?”
“And one if she does not?” Alex shot back.
“Naturally,” Arthur said, now trying to hide his mirth from Lauren.
Alex jumped to his feet and met her at the top of the terrace steps. “I see my hellion of a son is quite out of sorts,” he said, taking her hand in his.
Sighing, Lauren nodded. “Afraid so.
‘Of all the animals, the boy is the most unmanageable,’
you know.”
“Ha! Plato!” Arthur cried, and triumphantly slapped the wrought iron arm of his chair with such force as to startle Lauren.
“What?” she asked, turning to Alex.
Grinning, he cupped her face in his hands. “Lauren, my angel”—he smiled as his mouth descended to hers—
“shut up.”
Ignoring Arthur’s very tasteless cheering, he devoured the lips of his cherished, proverb-quoting wife.
