Reckless Viscount (39 page)

She hoped the chamomile would help to calm her frazzled nerves before she was forced to face him again.

She turned away from the mirror and her hands froze in the midst of unraveling her braid.

Leif stood calmly next to the small tea table. His expression was guarded but Abbigael could not miss the glow of interest swirling in his deep gaze. Not when her body reacted so readily to the sensual suggestion she saw there.

She dropped her hands to her lap and clasped them together in an effort to steady the rush of nervous energy that spread out through her limbs.

“What do you want?” Her question flew from her lips before she had a chance to consider whether or not she really wanted to know the answer.

“I just want to talk,” he replied with smooth confidence, reminding her of another time when he had just wanted to talk. “For now.”

It was the
for now
that had Abbigael’s mind racing back to how that other time had ended in a blistering kiss. She could almost count that moment in the darkened hallway as the turning point in the course of her life. After that kiss nothing had been the same for her.

Frightened by the emotional poignancy of the memory, Abbigael turned away from him to look back into the mirror, though she no longer registered what she saw. She lifted her hands to tug awkwardly at what remained of her braid, but ended up tangling the fine tresses.

And then he was there behind her, his image solid and handsome as ever in the reflective glass. She felt his nearness like the energy of a lightning storm in the middle of a still summer day.

“Here,” he said in a soothing tone as he leaned forward to set a cup of tea on the table in front of her, “let me.”

His movements were gentle and efficient as he slid his hands beneath the weight of her hair and drew the full length over her shoulder to fall down her back. His fingers brushed in a shivering caress against her neck and Abbigael’s hands fell to her lap.

After the initial glance at his reflection when he came to stand behind her, she had lowered her gaze to avoid meeting his eyes. She couldn’t risk having her thoughts muddled by what she might see there. It was vital that she keep her wits about her or his talent for manipulation would overcome her better sense.

She moved her hands over the swell of her belly as she felt the stirring movements of the baby. The discovery of her child had given her a sense of renewed purpose. More than anything she wanted a family with Leif. But he had needed to conquer the demons within himself before he was ready to accept what she yearned to offer.

She hoped his presence here, even though it was prompted by her father’s meddling, was some indication that he had come to terms with the darkness within himself and was willing to envision a future with her at his side.

She should have known she wouldn’t be able to avoid the results of his attention so easily. His skilled fingers drew down through her hair until they reached the knotted mess she had caused in her inattention. With very little effort, he managed to release her tresses until they flowed freely down to her hips. Then he lifted his hands and began a soothing massage of her scalp that she felt through every nerve of her body.

The stiffness along her spine softened from the base of her skull down to the curve of her buttocks. Part of her wanted to stop him, fearful of how easily he could bend her to his will if she allowed even the smallest physical liberty. But another part of her relished in once again being the object of his thorough consideration. For just a few moments, she wanted to feel cherished even if there was a risk that his actions were all just a means to an end.

Her eyes drifted closed as he extended the strokes of his fingers down the length of her hair, gently loosening any remaining tangles. Tingles of sensation spread across her skin and the muscles of her shoulders relaxed.

“Why did you leave?” His question was uttered in a near whisper and barely penetrated the haze that had settled over Abbigael’s awareness.

“Hmm?”

Leif released her hair and settled his large hands on her shoulders. “Why did you leave, Irish?” His voice was firmer.

She opened her eyes and was assailed by his image in the mirror. His strong body sheltering her back, his hands on her slim shoulders as if he wished to assure she couldn’t bolt. And his eyes, earnest and intense, staring back at her from the glass.

She lifted her chin. “I left because I saw no reason to stay.”

Dark lines formed between Leif’s brows and tension firmed the sensual curves of his mouth. “You should have stayed because you are my wife.”

“Am I?” Abbigael questioned calmly. “In what way, Leif? We are married, you received access to my dowry, but aside from that, how exactly was I your wife?”

Confusion entered Leif’s gaze and Abbigael pushed out from under his hands to rise and move away from him. Her thoughts were tumbled by the sight of him and she didn’t want to lessen the emotions that had fueled her since leaving Dunwood Park.

She went to the window, feeling stronger with every step that separated them. Staring through the glass at her father’s perfect English garden, she felt a rush of the loneliness that had embedded itself into her being since coming to Ireland. Seeing Leif again, she knew she had been right to leave.

She turned back to face him squarely, but had to force her words through a tight throat. “I hardly ever saw you, Leif. And when I did, you barely spoke to me.”

“You know how much work there was to be done.”

“I could have helped you.”

He glanced away and shrugged. “There was nothing for you to do.”

“You don’t know that!” Abbigael countered with rising ire. “You never even gave me chance. You brushed aside my questions like those of a pestering child. You treated me like a nuisance during the day and exiled me to a lonely bed at night.”

Leif’s eyes flashed with a dangerous light at her last words. “That’s it, isn’t it?” He bit the words out in a low and menacing tone. “It always comes back to sex.”

The ugliness in his voice and the way his face twisted with barely concealed disgust gave Abbigael pause.

Oh God, was that what he thought?

In a swift flash of understanding she saw it all from his perspective. His childhood at the crumbling country estate, a young boy alone among servants, his mother gone, his father a vile wastrel. Then the years going from the bed of one wealthy woman to the next, his focus always on getting back to Dunwood Park, no longer the lost little boy, but the lord and master.

Abbigael’s heart ached with compassion for the boy and the desperate young man. He had no idea of his own personal worth.

She started toward him and saw him pull back just the barest degree, but it was enough to make her stop.

“No, Leif. There was so much more I wanted to share with you.”

“That’s right,” he retorted. “And it would seem I have fulfilled that part of our agreement.” Leif glanced at her belly.

Abbigael’s eyes widened. She could see in the hard flash of his eyes that he truly believed she would use him so coldly. Anger flared bright at his accusation and warred with the sympathy in her heart. She clenched her hands into tight fists at her sides.

“That is not what I speak of and you know it. I lo—”

“Don’t say it.” he interrupted sharply, his jaw hard and his gaze reserved. “You left me.”

Abbigael felt suddenly drained of anger. Laying her hand protectively over her belly, she watched as he turned away from her. Her stomach churned with nausea and an uncomfortable pricking behind her eyelids caused tears to well up. She quickly blinked them away, not wanting Leif to see how his refusal to accept her love hurt her.

Leif moved toward the door.

“We will leave for England first thing in the morning. No matter what this marriage is based on, you
are
my wife. The child belongs at Dunwood Park.”

Then he was gone and the sound of the door closing behind him echoed in her ears for several minutes afterward along with his final words.

He had said the child belonged at Dunwood Park.

But what about her?

Chapter Thirty-Four

Abbigael tipped her chin to catch the slanted rays of autumn sun on her face as she ambled along the path that led from the orangery to the house. The day was unusually warm for being so close to the onset of winter. The air was fresh and brisk and the newly laid gravel stones crunched under her walking boots. The orangery had become her private sanctuary. She could easily spend several hours lounging on the cushioned benches, reading or dozing in the citrus-scented air. But today she was feeling a bit off and no matter how she arranged her rounded form, she couldn’t seem to get comfortable, so she had decided to return to the house to try to get a little rest.

She glanced about her, checking for a glimpse of Leif. As far as she knew, he never ventured to the orangery, but she looked around for him anyway, not wishing to run into him unprepared.

The Park was filled with people now—kitchen staff, upstairs maids, downstairs maids, footmen and grounds men. Leif had even purchased horses for the stables and hired hands to care for them and a driver for the new carriage. Jack had remained in the country and had lately taken on a new job as her shadow.

Since leaving Ireland, she and her husband had barely spoken. The trip across the sea had been rough and had kept Leif in his cabin the whole time suffering from sea-sickness. She had been tempted to go to him and tend him, but thought better of it. She did not think he would welcome her gentle hand. He had crossed the sea to fetch his child, not to mend the gap in their marriage.

So she’d left him to suffer alone as she stayed on deck, breathing in the salty fresh air in an attempt to cleanse the gloomy thoughts from her mind.

Unfortunately, their positions were reversed on the trek over land to Sussex. The rough jostling of the coach had Abbigael bracing herself several times a day and fearing the bumpy journey might bring harm to the baby. Leif spent the drive sleeping, or pretending to sleep off the aftereffects of the sea as the unknowing recipient of Abbigael’s countless glares and mumbled curses.

They made it to Dunwood Park without incident, and upon arrival, Abbigael almost forgot she was giving her husband the silent treatment as her first sight of the renovated castle filled her with awe and caused her to gasp out loud in her amazement. Entering the house, she couldn’t believe the transformation that had taken place in her absence. The gloomy shell of musty shadows and rotting supports had become a glorious home decorated with a unique aesthetic that combined medieval elements with the more minimal style Leif also seemed to favor. It was an unexpected combination of antique and contemporary that Abbigael loved instantly.

Abbigael had turned to Leif as he entered the house behind and opened her mouth to praise the job he had done. But one look at his cool expression and her words of admiration got caught up in her throat.

She had closed her mouth sharply, recognizing the vulnerability that mingled with the challenge she saw in his eyes. He looked as if he wanted to dare her to criticize. A wave of sadness washed over Abbigael and she turned away, wishing her husband had been able to find it in himself to trust her. Once she would have sworn he knew her better than that.

Now she had to wonder if the kinship she had felt with him and the sense that he had understood her as no one else since her mother was all an illusion he had conjured up as a means of getting what he wanted.

She hated to think that was the truth. That she had been so naïve and misled by her emotional needs that she had fallen helpless into a trap designed by a man guided by ruthless personal motives. Though all current evidence pointed to just that likelihood, Abbigael fought against believing all of it was false. She still clearly remembered the long hours she’d spent in Leif’s arms—totally vulnerable, her soul and her heart and her body bared to him. She struggled with the idea that the lovemaking she remembered had all been one-sided. She remembered the way he looked at her when he brought her to pleasure, and more, when she called forth his release with the devoted attention of a woman in love.

He couldn’t have faked the fear and adoration and truth she’d seen in his eyes then.

Reaching the wide sweeping steps that led up from the drive to the front door of the house, Abbigael felt a presence at her side.

“If I may, m’lady.”

Jack, who had been ever-so-casually strolling in circles around the lawn between the orangery and the house, now just
happened
to catch up to her in time to offer assistance as she ascended the steps.

Having gotten used to his constant conspicuous presence, Abbigael accepted his offer wordlessly, though she felt perfectly capable of taking the steps herself. Still a few weeks from the end of her term, she felt surprisingly well and suffered very few of the discomforts and pains that many expectant mothers complained about. She was ever grateful that her pregnancy, if nothing else in the last several months, had not caused her much to be concerned with.

Leif, however, seemed to think she needed constant guarding to be sure she didn’t overdo anything. She had tried to argue with Jack the first few times she found him trailing her steps, but he had been adamant that he would not go against the viscount’s orders. At best, he agreed to keep a less intrusive distance.