Rebel Temptress (Historical Romance) (28 page)

"He has not made love to you?" I saw him kiss you."

"Honor, what you saw was not a lover's kiss, but more a kiss on the cheek, a way of saying thank you to me for understanding that he did not want to make love to me. He confessed to me that he has not been intimate with a woman since he first met you. I do not now if you realize what that means to a man like Adam. He is of very loving and passionate nature; he must be living in agony."

Honor placed her hands over her face. There was conflicting emotions going on inside her. A part of her was happy because Adam loved her, and another part of her wanted his happiness even if it would be with someone besides herself.

"Meagan, even if I were free to love Adam, I do not think I could at Aaron's expense. You say you are his friend; try to convince him to return to Boston."

"I would do that if I thought it would do any good. I wish you and Adam could be together. You are perfect for each other. Adam could make you happy, I know he could. What a mess everything is at the moment, and I do not know that it will get any better. Honor, I just had a thought. I have plenty of money, for as you know Horace left me a very wealthy widow. We could find a house in town, and you and little Aaron could move in with me."

"Jordan would never allow that, Meagan. He would not let me take Aaron away from him."

Meagan caught her lip between her teeth thoughtfully. "Suppose we were to go to Europe. We could choose a time to leave when Jordan is away from home. He would never find us in Europe."

"I could never take Aaron away from his father, and I cannot leave without my son."

Meagan sighed, knowing Honor spoke the truth. She pushed a lock of Honor's hair from her face and stood up. "I suppose you are right. Maybe something will happen to change things. I certainly hope so. I have been thinking of returning to Paris for some time." Her eyes sparkled as she smiled at Honor. "I have received a proposal of marriage from a real live count, and I may just accept it."

Honor sat up quickly. "Meagan, I would not like for you to leave."

"Do you mean that? Have you forgiven me all the wrongs I have done to you?"

"Yes, and I would not want to be here without you."

"Do not fret. I will stay a while longer, at least as long as it takes to see you happy again. I do not know what I can do, but trust me to try."

Honor closed her eyes. She was weary and she ached all over. After Meagan left she got up and walked over to the window, pushed the curtains aside, and looked toward Landau.

"Oh, my love, my love, thank you for remembering my birthday, and thank you for loving me," she said aloud.

18

Snow covered the ground and an icy wind blew from the north. The tree branches bowed in the wind, and the windowpanes rattled as if in protest against the persistent winds.

Honor pressed her forehead against the pane as she looked out the window at the front of the house. Jordan had taken Aaron riding over her protests. Aaron had only recently recovered from a chest cold, and Honor feared it was too soon for him to be about in the cold weather.

"You coddle the boy too much," Jordan had told her. "I do not want my son hanging on to his mother's petticoat."

Honor had dressed Aaron warmly, and the happiness she had seen in his eyes at the thought of being allowed to ride on the front of his father's horse showed plainly in his eager face. Honor had pushed her apprehension aside as she led him downstairs to his father.

As she had watched them ride away she felt worried. It was terribly cold and it looked more and more as though snow would fall before the day was over. Lunchtime came and went, and still there was no sign of Aaron and Jordan. Snow had begun to fall as dark clouds gathered overhead.

Since the night of Honor's birthday Jordan had become quiet and sullen. He made no pretense at even being pleasant to her in front of Maggie and Aaron, and he seemed deliberately to go out of his way to be unpleasant to her.

Honor and Meagan, however, were closer than they had ever been, and Honor even managed to laugh at some of the foolish things Meagan would say to her. Meagan came into the room now, waving a letter.

"The count swears he will die of a broken heart if I do not tell him I will become his countess," she said, then she curtsied and fluttered her eyelashes. "La, I cannot help it if I am so desirable." Then she whirled around in a circle. "The
Comtesse de Moreau
, they will say, is the most beautiful woman in all the world." Then she held a fan in front of her face and pretended to be an old woman. "But have you not heard, she is an American. Disgusting, is it not? Ah, my dear, you must not criticize her. See how the count dotes on her. Is he not madly in love with her?"

Honor laughed so hard that tears came to her eyes as Meagan doubled up with laughter and fell on the settee.

Honor wiped her eyes and became serious. "You do not really intend to marry this man, do you?"

"I have answered his letter. Yes, I have decided to accept his proposal."

"But you do not love him."

"No, but I have had love and I have had marriage without love; I believe I prefer the latter."

"I would hate to see you go. I shall miss you," Honor said, knowing it would do no good to try to talk Meagan out of anything she had set her mind on.

"I told Pierre that I would not be coming to Paris until spring. I believe it will do him no harm to wait for me." Then Meagan took her sister's hand. "Come with me, Honor. It would be such fun to show you Paris, although no one will notice me with you around," she said in a teasing voice.

"You know I cannot, Meagan."

"Perhaps you will change your mind by the time spring arrives."

Honor walked over to the window again and stared out into the gathering darkness. "Where could Jordan and Aaron be? It's almost dinnertime and they have been gone for hours."

Meagan stood up and folded her letter and placed it back in the envelope. "Most probably they are at one of the neighbors', sitting all warm and toasty in front of a fire. I would not worry. Most probably that is what Jordan wants you to do."

Honor heard a carriage, and straining her eyes against the darkness, tried to see who the visitors were. The carriage stopped at the front of the house and Jordan got out. Honor held her breath as she saw the haggard look on his face. She saw him look toward the house and then limp toward the front door.

Fear nagged at her as she saw the doctor get out of the carriage carrying Aaron. She tried to speak but no sounds would come from her throat.

Meagan was watching over her shoulder. "My God!" Meagan cried, "there has been an accident."

Honor rushed from the room into the entryway. She brushed past Jordan, trying to reach Aaron. The doctor looked at her with sorrow-filled eyes.

"I am sorry, Honor, there has been an accident. Jordan's horse slipped on some ice . . ."

Honor reached out her hand and touched Aaron's face. It was cold, and he lay so still. "Why do you stand out here in the cold? My son is cold," she said, trying to push the terrible truth from her mind. She took Aaron's tiny body from the doctor and carried him into the house. "Meagan!" she screamed when the full impact struck her. "Meagan, Aaron is dead!" No tears came to her eyes. She refused the doctor's attempt to take Aaron away from her. She pushed past him and entered the sitting room and sat down in front of the fire. Jordan knelt down beside her, his shoulders shaking as he cried.

"It was an accident, Honor. I swear it was not my fault. I tried to save him when I realized the horse was falling, but he fell and hit his head against a tree."

"You killed my son," Honor said in a voice so soft that Jordan could hardly hear her.

"Honor, do you not think I blame myself?"

Meagan wiped the tears from her eyes and knelt down beside Honor. "Honey, let me take Aaron."

"No!" Honor cried as she hugged Aaron's little body close to her. "He is my baby, I want to hold him. Oh, Meagan, I love him. He is my baby, and he is dead."

"Honor, I will take him and place him in his bed upstairs, then I will dress him myself. Give him to me," Meagan said firmly.

Honor clutched Aaron more tightly, her eyes staring into the glowing fire. She was not even aware that Meagan pried her hands away from Aaron as she took him from her. She was not aware that the doctor lifted a glass containing a strong sedative to her lips, nor did she know when Jordan and the doctor helped her up the stairs and into her bedroom. Darcy came into her room and dressed her for bed, but it was Meagan who sat beside her bed all night, crying tears of grief.

The next morning when Honor awoke Meagan had Darcy bring a tray to her bedroom. Honor's eyes stared off into space, and she spoke no words, nor did she ask to see Aaron. All day Meagan stayed at her bedside and spoon-fed her as if she were a baby.

Jordan's grief was more vocal. He walked about the house, telling anyone who would listen to him how he had killed his son. Many neighbors heard of the tragedy and called to pay their respects. To everyone's surprise Maggie seemed a tower of strength. She took over the running of the house, greeted the guests, and saw to it that a grave was dug in the family plot beside her husband.

The next day the sky was cloudless. The bright sunlight turned the snow to slush as the friends and family of little Aaron Daniels gathered to pay their last respects.

Meagan kept a protective arm about Honor, not allowing anyone to come near her. Honor still behaved as if she were in a trance. She had not spoken one word since she first discovered Aaron was dead. It was as though the part of her brain that felt pain had shut out all that had happened, refusing to accept the truth.

The doctor examined her after the funeral and shook his head wearily. "This state of shock will not last," he told Jordan. "When she comes out of it you will have to be very strong and handle her gently, for when this veil lifts it will be as though she is hearing for the first time that her son is dead."

"How long will it last?" Jordan asked.

"It could last a day, it could last a week, there is no telling. Just be patient with her. I have seen many such cases during the war. There is nothing medicine can do. It is all in God's hands."

A week passed and the house at Green Rivers was silent in its mourning. Jordan shut himself in his study, trying to lose his grief by drinking himself into a stupor. Meagan moved a cot into Honor's bedroom and spent all her time with her sister, who lay on her bed staring at the ceiling.

Meagan had just dressed Honor for bed and was about to blow out the lamp when Jordan burst into the room. He staggered over to Honor's bed and glared down at her. "It's your fault," he yelled, and became infuriated when Honor did not respond or even acknowledge his presence.

"Jordan, you stay away from my sister," Meagan said, moving in front of Honor protectively. "I will not tolerate your coming near her. Can you not see that she is in no condition to hear anything you have to say?"

"It is her fault," Jordan yelled.

"How can you say that? I happen to know she asked you not to take Aaron out because he was just getting over a fever."

"If she had not coddled him trying to keep him away from me, I would not have been forced to go against her wishes."

"You stupid fool," Meagan said between clenched teeth, "you are the poorest excuse for a man that I have ever seen. You would like to blame someone because you cannot face the fact that you are a weakling, a nothing, and you and you alone killed your son."

Jordan swung around to Meagan and raised his hand to strike her, but Meagan only laughed. "I would not try that if I were you. I am not Honor, and if you hit me you may find out you have met a woman who knows how to defend herself."

"I want you and your sister out of my house. She has finally gone and lost her mind. I should have known better than to get mixed up with either one of you. I am going into town to find a real woman."

"Pray do, and if you can find someone who is low enough to lie with you, you had better take advantage of it. There may not be too many willing to endure your company, even for money." Meagan realized Jordan was drunk and most probably would not remember anything he had said in the morning, but he had just shown her a side of himself that she had never seen, the side only Honor had witnessed until now. "Get out of here, Jordan, you are disgustingly drunk."

Jordan staggered as he crossed the room. "I love her, and I loved our son," he said wildly.

Jordan left the house that night, and a week later he still had not returned. In all that time, Honor still had not uttered one word.

* * *

Adam had been in Richmond for almost two weeks. He had taken Suzanne and the children to the coast and put them on a ship headed for Boston. His sister had pleaded with him to return home with her, but Adam was not yet ready to go home, for he knew that once he left Virginia he would never return. He had ridden to Richmond, not yet ready to return to the house at Landau, knowing how empty it would seem with Suzanne and the children gone.

He rented a suite in one of the finer hotels, and for the first few days stayed in the room, trying to put his life together again. The nights were the worst of all, for he would be thinking of Honor when he fell asleep, and more often than not he would dream of her. In his dreams she would run into his open arms and give herself to him without hesitation and with love, as she had the night in the apple orchard.

He agonized over his weakness for her. She did not even love him, and yet he could not forget her. Once in a moment of sanity he had packed his bag, with the intention of taking the first ship home, but after allowing himself time to think, he knew he could not leave just yet. First he had to talk to Honor one last time.

That night he bought a bottle of bourbon with the intention of getting himself drunk. He needed a woman badly, and maybe if he was drunk enough he could make himself believe it was Honor.

Mrs. Palmer's House of Young Ladies said on the sign out front. Adam had had plenty to drink, but he was still not drunk as he entered the plush salon that was decorated in vivid reds and outlandish purples.

A woman somewhere in her late forties came forward to greet him. Her brightly colored red hair was bound about her head, and the heavy makeup made her wrinkles ever more prominent. Her bold red lips smiled at the handsome man whom she judged to have more than his share of good looks and money. Momentarily, Odessa Palmer wished she was twenty years younger. "Greetings, sir. I am Mrs. Palmer, and it is my business to see that you have a good time.”

Adam flashed her a smile. “My name does not matter, and I am here to seek a good time.”

"What would you prefer, dark hair, or perhaps red? Champagne, or good Irish whiskey?"

"Perhaps you have someone who has hair the color of silver," he said, only half teasing.

"I have Yvette, who may or may not be a true blonde. In the dim light you can pretend her hair is silver," Mrs. Palmer said lightly, wishing she was the silver lady who this handsome man was seeking. His eyes told their own story, for she was adept at reading much from a man's eyes, and this man did not try to hide the pain in his. What woman could cause this man pain? He was a real man, one who could cause any female heart to flutter.

"I will take Yvette, and the champagne," Adam told her.

"Room twelve, at the top of the stairs. Tap on the door. I will send the champagne up immediately."

Adam started up the carpeted stairs. Tinny music was coming from the room below, and he paused. Did he really want to go through with this? He had never sought a woman for pay, and although it had sounded like a good idea a moment ago, it now seemed distasteful to him. He had just decided to return to the hotel when he heard loud voices coming from one of the upstairs rooms. There was no mistaking the sounds. It seemed one of the male patrons was beating up one of the women, for Adam heard the sound of struggling and a woman screamed.