Silent Revenge (31 page)

T
he door to their bedroom opened, and his massive figure filled the lighted space.

Jessica stared at the entrance, the light from behind him making his shadowed form appear larger, more impressive. She knew he’d come to her eventually. She’d lain in her bed for hours, waiting. She knew him well enough to know he would not let what had happened tonight rest, that he would face the turmoil head-on.

She breathed a heavy sigh. Yes, it was best to get it out in the open. Best to learn about the mistress he refused to give up and know where their marriage was headed.

He took several steps into the room, closing the distance between them. He no longer wore his tailcoat, his waistcoat, or his white satin cravat. His gleaming white dress shirt hung open almost to his waist, exposing a good portion of the dark hair on his chest. In his hands he cradled at least a half-dozen candles and holders. One was lit. As he walked to her bedside, the fame flickered, casting the features of his face in a glowing light.

“Have you finished with your pouting?” he asked, making sure she could see his face.

She refused to answer. She hadn’t been pouting. She could not believe he saw it that way.

He shrugged his shoulders as if it did not matter one way or another, then took the one lighted candle and reached out to light the taper Jessica had at her bedside. He put another beside it. One by one, he lit each candle he’d brought with him plus the other candles already in the room. He placed them in a circle around the bed, on stands, on chairs, on the desk, on anything nearby. Candle added to candle and the room glowed with a brightness that equaled daylight. He lit the last candle and set it on the trunk at the foot of the bed.

“What are you doing?” Jessica sat up in bed and leaned her back against the headboard.

Simon moved to her side, propped a pillow behind her back, and pulled the covers under her chin.

“I am making sure you can see every word I speak.” Then he closed and locked the door. “Can you?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

Simon stood beside the trunk. He clasped his hands behind his back and braced his feet apart as if he were prepared for battle. The look in his eyes indicated he was ready for more than just a minor skirmish.

“Have you calmed, wife?”

The breath caught in her throat. “You are asking if I have calmed?” She laughed. “I’m not the one who stormed to the carriage without speaking a word.”

Or the one who could not bear to touch his wife after he’d seen his mistress.

He stepped closer and grasped the tall posters at the foot of the bed. He lifted his chin ever so slowly and impaled her with a look that sent a shiver down her spine. “I’m not the one who shut her eyes and closed her husband out, Jessica. I’m not the one who built a barrier impossible for anyone to penetrate. I’m not the one who used her deafness to take the coward’s retreat and fight unfairly.”

The hooded darkness of his eyes and the vein that stood out in his neck evidenced his anger. She could only imagine how loud his voice must be.

He took another step. “You will never again do to me what you did tonight, wife. Do you understand? No matter how angry either of us becomes with the other, you will not shut your eyes to close me out.”

The air caught in her throat as the temper she very seldom experienced exploded within her chest. She threw the covers back and jumped from her bed, standing less than an arm’s length away from him.

She couldn’t believe this. “You are angry because I closed my eyes and refused to read your lips?”

“You will never shut me out like that again, Jesse. I won’t have it.”

“You won’t have it?” Jessica stomped her foot in frustration. “You won’t have it! It’s perfectly acceptable for you to ignore my inquiries whenever you feel like it, but when the slipper is on the other foot and I ignore you, you will not have it? Well, you can bloody well think on that again, my lord.”

“Mind your tongue, wife.”

“I have only learned such language from you, my lord. It seems to be all that comes from your mouth.”

Jessica saw his anger.

He stared at her with the blackest look of foreboding while he clenched his fists at his sides. His brows furrowed so deeply she thought she could hide a farthing in the creases. And he locked his jaw so tightly the knots on either side of his face jumped in agitation.

“With whom are you angry, Simon? Me or your mistress?”

The air hung heavy between them. His eyes opened wide, and he stared at her with the most flagrant look of astonishment she had ever seen.

She would not back down. “Are you upset with me because I refused to sit quietly at your side and listen obediently while you made up lies to convince me that your mistress’s appearance at the ball tonight was an accident?”

Jessica ignored the crude expletives she read on Simon’s lips. She was not even familiar with some of the words, but she was not about to stop now and have him explain their meaning.

“Or are you angry with your mistress because she embarrassed you by so brazenly showing herself at the same ball as your wife?”

Jessica bit her bottom lip to keep it from trembling. And to keep the tears from forming in her eyes.

“How dare you expect me to come face-to-face with the woman all of London knows you would have married but did not because she did not come with the dowry I brought you.”

Her husband cursed again, and this time she understood all the words.

“There is no need to use such language with me, Simon. I’m not at all impressed or intimidated by it.”

“I do not expect you to be impressed by anything I have to tell you, wife. Obviously, you already think the worst of me.”

Jessica bit back the emotion that threatened to spill from her eyes. Her chest tightened painfully. “Did you know she was coming to the ball? Did you plan it that way?”

“Saints help us, Jesse. Is that what you think?”

“I know what I saw.” She wrapped her arms around her middle to stop the ache. “I know what the people around us said.”

“Of course. And you chose to believe every word of gossip you heard. You will take even a stranger’s word over mine.”

“Please, Simon. Don’t make up any lies. Let’s get all this out into the open and deal with it there.”

“Very well, Jessica. Let’s do get this all out into the open and deal with it.” Simon pulled out a chair and sat down, crossing his arms over his chest as if he sat in judgment. “Who told you the woman you saw tonight was my mistress?”

Jessica sat on the edge of the bed, then rose to her feet again. She preferred the slight advantage standing gave her. “I read the Earl of Chitwood’s lips, and he said everyone knows you’re in love with her, but you were forced to marry me because of the money.”

“And you believe him?”

Jessica placed her fingers at her temples and rubbed. “I don’t know.”

“Have I given you cause to think I have a mistress? Have I committed one indiscretion that makes you think I have been unfaithful?”

Jessica shook her head. “No. The earl said you would probably be discreet until I had given you an heir.”

Simon bolted to his feet and slammed his hand against the back of the chair. It fell over backward, but he didn’t bother to pick it up. “Bloody hell, Jessica. Your curse is not that you are deaf, but that you hear too much. And not all of it is worth hearing.”

Simon raked his fingers through his hair, then took a step closer to her. “Watch my lips, wife. And understand every word I speak, for I will say this to you only once.” He grasped her by the shoulders and held her. “The woman you saw tonight is not my mistress.”

Jessica turned her head away from him and knew the cry of anguish buried deep in her breast had escaped. “Oh, Simon,” she moaned. “Don’t—”

Before she could continue, he cupped her face with his hands and turned her toward him. That telltale vein stood out on his neck. “She is
not
my mistress.”

An ache tightened in her chest. “That’s not what I saw. That’s not how she looked at you, Simon.”

“It doesn’t matter how she looked at me. I married you. You are my wife.” Simon grasped her by the shoulders. “Rosalind was in the past, Jessica. She is no longer important.”

“How can you say that? She is important, Simon. She is very important.”

“Not to me!”

Simon’s dark brows knitted together in a harsh line, and spikes of blatant anger flashed from his black eyes. She didn’t care. All she could think of was the beautiful woman in the red satin gown with the sultry look in her eyes that had issued the challenge to have him as her own.

Jessica twisted out of his arms. Torrential waves of panic washed over her, robbing her senses of all calmness. “It was a mistake to go tonight,” she said, hugging her arms around her middle. “I knew it would be a disaster. I wish I had never listened to you.”

Jessica wasn’t sure she had said her words aloud, but when Simon’s hands clamped around her upper arms and turned her around to face him, she knew she had.

“Tonight went perfectly,” he said through clenched teeth, the look in his eyes as focused as any she’d ever seen. “You took your rightful place in society, both as my wife and as the Countess of Northcote. The evening was perfect.”

“No. It was not perfect,” she argued, wadding the open material of his shirt in her hands. She tried to take a deep breath, but the air caught in her throat, escaping in a ragged shudder. “She knows I can’t hear. She saw I couldn’t answer her when she spoke behind her fan. She knows,” Jessica cried, “and now everyone will know you’ve married someone who is deaf.”

Every fear Jessica had ever envisioned swirled in her head, reminding her of all the reasons she should not have tried to pass herself off as normal.

Simon lifted her chin so she could see his lips. “Rosalind will tell them nothing. She will not dare.”

“Yes, she will.” The hungry look she saw in Rosalind’s eyes flashed before her like the warning of a tragedy to come. Jessica fought the overwhelming fear that slammed her heart against her ribs. What had she been thinking?

She pushed her hands against Simon’s chest, struggling to free herself from his grasp. She wanted to run away. She wanted to be somewhere safe. Someplace where the outside world could not hurt her.

She twisted to escape, but his arms clamped around her like two bands of hardened steel. “Let me go, Simon,”

she cried, turning her face so he wouldn’t see the moisture welling in her eyes. “There is no need for you to pretend anymore.”

She pushed hard against his chest, but with a hard jerk he brought her around to face him squarely. “You are my wife. There is no way to pretend you are not.”

“How long can you pretend you care for me? How long can you pretend you would rather have me at your side than…?” A lump formed in her throat, and Jessica fought to swallow past it. “How long, Simon?”

Her breaths came out short and ragged. The ache in her chest tightened painfully. The open, undisguised look in his eyes caused her heart to beat wildly. Her skin tingled when he cupped her cheeks in his strong hands, forcing her to look directly at him.

“You are my wife.” He rubbed his thumb over her lips. “Neither of us will ever forget it.”

Before she had time to catch her breath, Simon brought his mouth down on hers, crushing her against him. His kiss was not tender and loving, but harsh and possessive. He ground his lips against hers, controlling her movements, demanding her submission. She fought him with all her strength, but his demands forced her to yield to his dominance.

“Give over to me,” he said, holding her gaze. “Give over at least in this.”

She struggled as long as possible, but in the end she gave up. This was what she wanted, what she thought she would never have. A man whose strength she could lean on, whose power she could count on to protect her, whose arms she could rely on to hold her.

Jessica wrapped her arms around Simon’s neck and held him to her. The moment he invaded her mouth an explosion of fevered emotions erupted within her. No matter how much he gave, she needed more. She needed to touch him and hold him to her and have him within her. She needed to pretend he’d made his vow to never love her because he feared losing his heart.

Not that he had already lost his heart and it belonged to Rosalind.

Jessica drew her fingers through Simon’s thick, dark hair, holding him close as he kissed her deeply. Heaven help her but she wanted him. A painful thought tugged at her heart. She’d come to care for him too much. An image of the beautiful Rosalind flashed in Jessica’s mind, a sultry smile on the temptress’s face as she lifted her glass and beckoned Simon with a beguiling look.

His hands raked across her flesh, blazing a path wherever he touched. He wanted her as much as she wanted him. She could tell by his kisses, by the way he ravished every inch of her skin, by the tenseness of his flesh as it knotted beneath her fingers.

The frantic need to make him hers became more intense. Jessica fattened her palms on Simon’s chest beneath his open shirt and moved her hands over his shoulders, atop each corded muscle that rippled beneath her fingers. A huge gasp of air rushed from her lungs when he lifted his mouth from hers and blazed a path with his lips down the side of her neck to the base of her throat.

With expert ease, he pushed her soft muslin gown from her shoulders, then carried her to the bed.

Jessica wanted to think only of Simon and the pleasure they could give each other, but in a flashing glint behind her eyes, a beautiful woman with gleaming black hair and a red satin gown crooked a seductive finger and smiled a sultry smile. Jessica tried to block it out, but Rosalind’s image wouldn’t go away.

“She intends to have you for her own,” Jessica gasped, not realizing she’d spoken the words out loud. With an abrupt halt, his movements stopped and he cupped her face in his hands and stared down at her. The look in his eyes depicted a strange and uncontrolled fury.

“You will not speak of her, Jesse. Rosalind has no place between us.”

Jessica wanted to tell Simon what she feared. She wanted to tell him what everyone at the ball had seen. That Rosalind intended to take him away from her. And deep in her heart, Jessica knew Rosalind would not give up until she had him.