Seven Nights in a Rogue's Bed (30 page)

“I make my mind up quickly,
bella
.” He paused. “I suspect you do too.”

“You hardly know me.”

“Don’t be a silly widgeon, Sidonie.” This time his smile held no shadows, only endless tenderness. For one crazy moment, she stared into his intense features and every obstacle dissolved like mist in the sun. A lifetime with this fascinating man seemed promise of heaven.

“I’m flattered by your offer, Jonas. But I… can’t.”

The glow seeped from his eyes and he shifted to the edge of the bed. “That’s your prerogative.”

He sounded cold, composed. Beneath the chill, she heard turbulent grief. He shouldn’t sound like that. Not after only a week. She reached for him but stopped short of making contact. “I’m sorry.”

He shrugged. Once his indifference might have convinced. After all, the man she’d met a week ago had seemed nothing but power games and spite. Now she knew better.

“You made no promises.”

Except she had. With her heart. With her body. With a thousand sighs of surrender. Did she underestimate him? Was it possible that if she admitted what she knew, Jonas would devise some solution to Roberta’s dilemma? He was daring and resourceful and his fortune gave him a power in the world she couldn’t hope to match.

Then like an echo she heard him saying to the Duke of Sedgemoor, “It can’t be helped.”

Roberta’s safety was too important to risk on a man Sidonie had known a mere week. Shocking enough that Sidonie would commit herself without hesitation, but she couldn’t forget her responsibility to her sister.

She stared directly at this man who had given her such transcendent joy and took the coward’s way out. “Jonas, I need to think.”

When he faced her, he didn’t look any happier. He was wise enough to guess she’d more than half-decided against marrying him. “I have a feeling if you go away, I’ll never see you again.”

“Give me a month. Everything has happened so fast.”

“A week.”

Surprisingly, given how difficult the discussion, she laughed. “You’re so demanding. A woman would need to be sure of herself to take you on.”

His silvery eyes glittered. “You’re up to my weight,
carissima.”

The tragedy was she believed she was, too. She bent her head. Her voice was a mere thread of sound. “A week.”

J
onas eyed Sidonie where she sat beside him in the swaying carriage. Unwillingly he’d conceded the wisdom of abandoning her new clothes, but he couldn’t like seeing the shabby white muslin. He should have told Mrs. Bevan to burn the rag instead of merely laundering it. When Sidonie returned to him, as surely she must, he’d drape her in silks and diamonds.

And, by God, he’d burn that eyesore of a cloak.

Her posture was straight and self-contained, gloved hands linked in her lap and attention fixed on the passing countryside. For most of the journey, she’d dozed fitfully with her head on his shoulder. He’d stared into her lovely face and noted marks of weariness and care—and the indefinable air of a woman who had recently enjoyed sensual fulfillment.

She’d been unusually quiet all the way from Devon. In fact, she’d been unusually quiet since his impulsive proposal, apart from the inevitable argument after he insisted
on accompanying her home. Much as he loathed referring to his swine of a cousin’s house as Sidonie’s home.

It was now late afternoon and they approached Ferney, the mansion he’d bought to put his cousin’s nose out of joint. How astonishing the difference a week made. Or a week such as the one he’d spent with Sidonie. He’d gloated, raising that gaudy monument to his worldly success at William’s front gates. Jonas had intended it as a permanent reminder that while he might be a bastard, he was a damned rich bastard.

Now his quest for revenge seemed infantile.

Jonas’s time with Sidonie sucked the infection from old wounds. Perhaps it was the beginning of wisdom that he at last relinquished his cousin’s chastisement to heaven. He cringed to recall how he’d used Sidonie’s sister in his machinations. Roberta had invited trouble, but he’d been a blackguard taking advantage. Sidonie had been too quick to forgive him for that. His intentions had been rotten to the extreme.

More important than revenge was the need to convince Sidonie to marry him. His proposal had been impulsive but the instant he spoke, he recognized their affair could have no other outcome. She was a woman a man wanted for life. Sidonie Forsythe was a creature of fire and light. He craved that heat like he craved air. When she was with him, he rejoined the great tide of humanity. He felt like a man a woman might even come to… love.

He contemplated Sidonie’s slender form in the shadowy interior. Had he planted a child in her womb? He was a cad to trap her so dishonorably, but the prospect of Sidonie growing round and lazy was breathtakingly appealing.

She turned her head to study him. He hoped to hell she didn’t guess his thoughts. “You can’t come to Barstowe Hall. If William finds out I’ve been with you, there will be the devil to pay.”

“Hobbs has orders to head for Ferney, then I’ll walk you across the park. I’ll keep your reputation safe,
bella
.” He wanted to keep more than her reputation safe. He wanted her to confide her whole life to him.

Slowly, Jonas, slowly. Patience reaps its own rewards.

“You needn’t come. I doubt brigands will leap on me in deepest Wiltshire.”

“You’d deprive me of the last of your company,
dolcissima
?”

“You think this is easy?” she asked dully. “To leave you after what we’ve shared?”

He seized her hand. Immediately the storm in his blood quieted. Her merest touch set the world spinning in the right direction. He waited for her to withdraw. Apart from those sweet moments curled against him in sleep, she’d hardly touched him all this long day. His proposal had destroyed their physical ease with each other.

Until now.

She gripped his hand hard and he felt her desperation, even through two layers of leather. Perhaps the week apart would work to his advantage. She’d have time to realize she missed a man in her bed. Except, curse him for a sentimental fool, he wanted more from her than physical desire. He wanted the generous heart that led her to offer herself to a monster’s embrace in her sister’s place. He sounded petty and jealous and needy, but he wanted her to love him the way she loved Roberta. With that same unconditional devotion, that same clear-eyed
appreciation. Sod it, selfish it might be, but he wanted her to love him
more
than she loved Roberta.

“You needn’t go,
tesoro
,” he said gently. “I can turn the carriage around and we’ll be back in Devon tomorrow. Or we’ll stay at Ferney. I won’t cavil at offering you a bedroom. Preferably mine.”

“Don’t tempt me.” Compared to her usual smiles, this one was a caricature. As if to soothe a headache, her free hand rubbed her brow. Guilt stabbed him. He had no right to torment her. She sighed, the sound inexpressibly sad. “You make everything sound so sensible when we both know it’s wrong.”

His voice shook with sincerity. “What care I for scandal? What care you? Where has toeing the line got you? A damned thankless position as William’s drudge and Roberta’s cat’s paw. I’ve lived with scandal since my father’s marriage was declared invalid. Confront it with your head high and it cowers away.”

Her hand tightened. “You promised a week before I have to make up my mind.”

“You can do that at Ferney.”

“You drive coherent thought to the wind.”

Did that mean she’d stay? One glance at her determined expression confirmed his doubts.

The coach rolled to a gentle stop before the ostentatious house. After Jonas grabbed Sidonie’s bag and helped her out, Hobbs continued to the stables. A footman opened Ferney’s tall doors with a flourish, but Jonas waved him inside.

For the first time today, he read genuine amusement in Sidonie’s eyes when she surveyed the ornate Portland stone façade with its balustrades and pediments and
columns. “You know, I’ve longed to see inside Ferney. The neighbors are agog at the extravagance. I was so disappointed when your hall at Castle Craven contained hardly a stick of furniture.”

Without pleasure, he glanced at the house’s pillared portico and grand double staircase. “Buying it was childish.”

She made no attempt to pull her hand from his. “Oh, I don’t know. It upset William mightily. I consider the money well spent.”

Hell, he couldn’t let her go. Not yet. “Why not stay an hour? I’ll show you the house. The servants won’t gossip. They’re far too well paid to risk their positions.”

She shook her head, lowering it so the ugly bonnet hid her face. When he burned the blasted cloak, he’d toss that straw contraption on the pyre as kindling.

“Jonas, you don’t understand.” Her voice was subdued. He realized her composure was entirely superficial. Beneath the apparent acceptance, she was unhappy and unsure. “If I don’t go now, I fear I won’t go at all.”

He gripped her hand as if he never meant to release her. “Then don’t go.”

She raised her head and stared at him. Her eyes were dull and her face was pale. “You needed a week to seduce me into a state of insanity where I’m considering marriage. Give me a week to decide whether to change a lifetime’s intentions.”

It sounded reasonable. Damn it, it
was
reasonable. “I’ll stay at Ferney. You merely need to cross the boundary.”

She stroked his jaw in a tender gesture that recalled a hundred other tender gestures. He stifled the urge to bully her. She wouldn’t bend. His woman was strong and resolute. If she embarked on life with him, she’d have to be.

Still she stared at him as though she’d die if she looked away. Did she know how close he was to sweeping her into his arms and racing her away?

“Thank you,” she said softly.

She touched his lips in a gesture of farewell and he caught a glimmer of tears. Trapped in her fathomless brown gaze, he felt the fatal declaration rise. He beat it back, although she must know he loved her. Every action betrayed his feelings, however risky the words. “Sidonie…”

“Oh, my dear…” Her voice cracked and she sagged, her strength failing. His arm circled her waist even as she straightened and focused upon him. “Don’t make this more difficult.”

“At least eat something before you go.”

Her smile was shaky. “You’re still trying to feed me.”

“Something to restore you after the journey.” His pride revolted at how he begged another minute, another hour, but he was beyond caring.

She shook her head. “No, Jonas.”

“ ‘No, Jonas’ is all you ever say,” he responded with a hint of savagery. He knew he was unfair, but he was just so damned miserable.

Her smile wavered into a warmth that calmed his anger. “Not always.”

He shut his eyes as the memory of wild nights overpowered him. Good God, at this rate, he’d be bawling like a motherless calf.

She touched his scarred cheek again. “Just kiss… kiss me goodbye.”

He told himself she’d be back in a week. Surely she’d see sense once she faced lonely reality. Surely she’d miss
him the way he’d miss her. But that wasn’t how it felt. It felt like she forsook him forever.

He drew her into the shadow of the staircase to shield her from anyone in the house. Slowly he twined his arms around her, relishing how perfectly she fit his body. Her hands slid up his chest, trailing fire even through his clothing, and linked behind his neck. He stared down at her, memorizing each feature. The wide, shining eyes; the marked brows; the pointed, determined chin indicating stubbornness under the sweetness. Didn’t he know that to his bones? If she wasn’t stubborn, she’d still be in his bed. If she wasn’t stubborn, he wouldn’t love her so much, confound her.

His head inched down. Her lush lips parted and passion surged, as it always did when they kissed. The world flared into heat and demand. He thrust his tongue into her mouth, staking the claim she denied with words but affirmed with every caress. She moaned and kissed him back voraciously, as though struggling to jam a lifetime into one embrace.

All too soon, the kiss changed, its fire retreated until only banked embers remained. The recognition that this was farewell threatened to rip his aching heart in two. She whimpered at the back of her throat and slowly, reluctantly drew away.

He let her go. What choice had he? He’d promised her freedom if she married him. If he compelled her now, he’d prove himself the tyrant she feared in a husband.

Very slowly, she lowered her arms as if she hated relinquishing the contact. Tears glinted in her dark eyes, but her head was high and she stood straight. “Take me back to Barstowe Hall, Jonas.”

Sidonie needed her key to slip into Barstowe Hall through the kitchens. At this hour, the small staff usually gathered there for tea. To her surprise, the cavernous, underground room was empty. She’d prepared tales about her visit to London, but nobody was present to hear. Nor did she need to make excuses about one of Roberta’s town friends dropping her off at the gates on an urgent errand elsewhere.

Nor did she encounter any servants as she made her way through the house. The silence was uncanny, eerie. A shiver chilled her skin. The rooms were cold and shadowy as wintry evening closed in.