Wicked Angel (42 page)

Wild with fury, he kissed her again, battering her lips with his tongue. At first she refused him, her lips pressed tightly together. But he would not relent, madly convinced she did not yet understand, that he could
make
her understand. Gradually, the stiffness began to ebb from her body and she began to respond to his fury. He gentled the kiss, touching her tenderly, his hands caressing her satin skin. Lauren's teary eyes did not waver from his face as he positioned himself between her legs and slowly entered her.

"Do you feel it?" he whispered hoarsely. "Do you
feel
how much I love you?"

She nodded. "I feel it," she whispered. "And I love you Alex. You must know that I love you with all my heart." More tears slipped from her eyes. He groaned and lowered himself to her, longing to release himself deep inside her, to bury himself to the hilt. He crushed his mouth to hers in another gentle assault to block out her tear-filled eyes. His heart simply could not accept what he knew would come.

Almost unconsciously he moved inside her, aware that when she reached her climax, the words of love she whispered would be the last. He found his own release more violently than before, and lay against her, unwilling to accept that he had lost her.

"
Oh, Alex, my love
," she whispered sadly.

He dislodged himself from her and rolled away, his breath harsh in his lungs. He dragged his gaze to the object of his pain. Emotionally and physically spent, she lay on her side, her face covered in the crook of her arm, her shoulders trembling with silent tears. His heart lurched painfully—he stumbled to his feet, yanked on his trousers, then his boots.

"Alex,
please
try to understand…"

He would never understand, not in a thousand years would he understand. And for that, she could rot in her little Bavarian hell for all he cared. He plunged his arms into his shirt, and gathering the rest of his clothes, he stalked out of the little cottage without looking back. Once on Jupiter's back, he gave the cottage a final glance, then spurred Jupiter with all his might, galloping away from her and the indescribable pain that engulfed him like a raging fire.

A steady rain had begun two days ago, when Paul told her Alex had returned to London. For two days she had sat in the same chair, staring out the same window. Staring into the same blank landscape.

Seated in a chair pulled up to the drawing room window, Lauren watched the path of rain rivulets on the glass panes. She had never known such misery. Nothing could ease her heartache; every time she closed her eyes she saw Alex striding away from her, half-dressed. Half-mad. She had no one to blame but herself. He had professed a depth of love that still made her tremble. And she, in all her infinite wisdom, had ignored the utterance of his heart, as if their lovemaking had meant nothing. No wonder he had looked at her with such loathing.

She loathed herself.

Not only had she turned away—
rejected
—the only man she would ever love, she had betrayed Magnus. Deeply ashamed, she could hardly bear to look at him any longer. That she could betray him so completely just four days before they would marry sickened her. The whole, sordid mess sickened her. She hardly knew herself any longer—she was a woman who had betrayed two men and had destroyed another woman's future as well as herself in the process.

One of those men was seated on the couch, quietly reading. For two days, while she had stared out the window, he had sat on that couch, reading. She forced herself to look at Magnus. As if sensing her thoughts, he glanced up and smiled thinly before lowering his gaze to his book again. It was obvious that she was making him miserable, sucking him into her nightmare. Magnus did not deserve this. He was a good, decent man. How sad that she would never love him, not like—

"Do you like it?"

Lauren started and looked toward the door as Lydia bounced into the room, wearing one of her London gowns Mrs. Peterman had altered. Lauren smiled weakly as Lydia twirled around. "You are beautiful, Lydia," she murmured. Magnus glanced up briefly, but quickly resumed reading.

"It is
divine
." Lydia sighed with all the angst of a thirteen year-old, and fell onto a settee. "Why don't you want it any longer?"

"I have no need for it. Mrs. Peterman did a fine job, did she not? You will be the prettiest girl at the harvest assembly."

"I hope Ramsey Baines thinks so! He has hardly even
looked
at me since the church picnic!" she moaned, and sat up, meticulously arranging the full skirts to their best advantage. "He dotes on Eugenia Prenshaw, but when he sees me in
this
, he'll change his mind!"

Lauren frowned. The girl was obsessed with Ramsey Baines, constantly incensed that the young man held some sort of unshakable esteem for the plain daughter of a solicitor. Master Baines seemed to be Lydia's single goal in life, but from everything Lauren had seen, the young man's single goal was Eugenia Prenshaw. "I am quite certain he will notice how lovely you are, Lydia, but you mustn't set your hopes too high. One cannot hope to contrive the affections of another; it must come naturally."

Magnus looked up from his book at that and thoughtfully considered her as Lydia sprang to her feet and wandered impatiently to the hearth. "But if he thinks
me
lovely, then he will no longer love Eugenia!" she protested. "She is not so very pretty, you know."

"Too much pride is unbecoming, darling," Lauren softly rebuked her.

Lydia sighed heavily and wandered to the window, tracing her finger down the edge of one pane. "I don't
mean
to be prideful, but everyone says I am much prettier than Eugenia Prenshaw, so Ramsey Baines must think so, too. And when he sees me in a gown as fine as this, he shall love me, I know he shall.

When had such monstrous conceit overtaken Lydia? " '
Beauty lives within the eye of the beholder
.'

Do you know what that means? Sometimes, the most beautiful people are not the most handsome.

Ramsey Baines sees a beauty in Miss Prenshaw that attracts him, and you cannot force him to have that same affection for you. It must come naturally."

Lydia came to her side and leaned against the chair, swaying softly as she absently fingered a curl on Lauren's head. "But it did not come naturally for you, and now you love Count Bergen! When you came home from Bavaria, you said he was a goat, but he made you love him. Why can't I make Ramsey Baines love me just the same?"

"I respect the count." The words rolled off her tongue without thought or feeling, as if she had rehearsed it a thousand times. Unwillingly, she glanced at Magnus from the corner of her eye; he was watching her closely.

"There, you see? He made you change your mind," Lydia observed, stroking her hair. "I should think it only a matter of determination," she said with supreme authority.

For the first time in her life, Lauren felt angry with Lydia for being so incredibly foolish and unwilling to see that she would only harm herself with such coquettish ideas. She responded sharply, "He may fall prey to your good looks for a time, my dear, but soon enough he will not be able to hide what simply is not there." Holy Mother, what was she
saying?

Clearly startled, Lydia stepped away from the chair and shrugged defiantly. "So?"

"
So?
You will always wonder if he is thinking of Eugenia when he looks at you!" she cried angrily.

"Lauren…" The count's deep voice carried a warning that she ignored.

"Day after day, you will find yourself wondering if his smile is for
you
or if he is daydreaming of
her!

Every word he speaks will be held up to your scrutiny to see if it is sincerely spoken! When he goes to London for a day, you will wonder if he goes to Eugenia!"

"
Lauren!
" Magnus said more forcefully.

Lydia's face fell. Her bottom lip trembled slightly as she looked down at her new gown. "But… but he
might
learn to love me!" she said softly.

"No! He will
not!
You cannot
force
him!" she cried, her voice breaking. She gripped the arms of her chair. What was she doing? Taking her frustration out on Lydia, that was what. She came swiftly to her feet and hugged Lydia tightly to her. "I am sorry, I did not mean to speak so harshly. Oh, darling, I so want you to be happy, but I don't think you will be if you try to force the lad to return your affections.

Perhaps he will come to esteem you, but if he does not, if he loves Eugenia, then there are plenty of boys in England who would die for just a smile from you."

Lydia sniffed against her shoulder. "But I love Ramsey Baines," she muttered stubbornly.

Distressed, Lauren sighed. "Do you know what I think? I think lilac would look very well with your new gown."

"Really?" Lydia asked, pulling away from her. "There is some in the garden."

"I think the rain has broken for a time. Why don't you fetch some and try it?" Lauren urged.

"Oh yes, that's a wonderful idea!" Lydia proclaimed, and hurried to the door, seemingly oblivious to Magnus, who had come to his feet.

"Be careful not to soil your dress!" Lauren called.

"I won't!" her youthful voice echoed as she rushed from the room. Lauren stared after her, completely spent. Her own words had done a rather fine job of pointing out the tremendous mistake she was about to make. She could hardly ignore her own advice, could she? A sense of bitter relief suddenly washed over her as she carefully resumed her seat. Days of frustration were gone, replaced by a new anguish—the anguish of facing a horrid task, of hurting someone for whom she cared. A painful pounding started at her temples the moment Magnus spoke.

"Are you angry?" he asked, frowning.

"No!" she exclaimed, a little too emphatically, and shifted uncomfortably.

"What is on your mind,
liebchen?
You look as if you have something you would say." Yes, but her tongue suddenly felt the size of a watermelon. "What is it, Lauren?" Magnus asked quietly.

The pounding in her head was deafening. She glanced uncertainly at him. How could she, practically on the eve of their wedding, tell him she could not marry him? How could she
not?
Heaven help her, she could not be with him day after day and long for Alex. She thought too much of him to… to
try and
hide what simply was not there
. Oh
God
, she regretted not coming to this conclusion sooner! She slowly sank into her chair.

"If you cannot speak, then allow me," he said, his German quiet and calm. "You have been sitting in that chair staring out that window for two days. Two days almost to the hour since the duke returned to London." Lauren tensed and quietly sucked in her breath. "I am not a physician, but I know what ails you. You mourn this… man you love."

She could not breathe, the pounding in her head having spread to her neck and chest. "
Magnus
—"

It was all she could bring herself to say.

"Say it, Lauren," he said evenly.

She started to speak, choking on her own words. Magnus did not move an inch, waiting patiently for what he obviously knew she would say. "It—It is with great…
regret
… that I must tell you I—I—" She could not say it. God help her, she could not
hurt
him so! Tears filled her eyes, and she picked helplessly at the arm of her chair, trying desperately to think of words that would make what she would do seem less…
egregious
.

"You must tell me what?" he asked, his voice oddly soft.

"I… I must tell you that I am very sorry for chiding Lydia so harshly!" she blurted. "God knows I did not want to, but the girl is so
foolish
… I mean, I would rather
die
than hurt her, but I could not…
pretend
that everything would be all right!" she exclaimed, aware of how ridiculous she must seem and despising her lack of courage.

His jaw clenched shut for a long moment. When at last he spoke, his voice filled the room. "Lydia loves Ramsey Baines, it would seem."

Lauren nodded frantically. "Yes, yes, she loves him truly, and although he is quite
fond
of Lydia, and I think truly
respects
her, he cannot quite…
love
her. But he has tried! He has
really
tried! It's just that… it's just that…"

"There is someone else?" he offered helpfully. Lauren cautiously nodded, gauging his reaction from beneath the cover of her lashes. With a rueful smile, he dropped his gaze to his hands.

Tears suddenly spilled from her eyes. "Oh,
God!
" she gasped, and looked helplessly to the ceiling. There was no use in pretending, no point in putting off the inevitable. "I was so very wrong to have accepted your offer, Magnus, but I honestly thought—" She nervously gasped for air. "You would come to despise me, don't you see?"

"Yes," he said simply, and reached for her hand.

It was such a kind gesture, too kind considering what she was doing. Her eyes riveted on the large hand covering hers. "We… had an agreement, but… but it was a foolish agreement, I think."

"It was foolish," he agreed.

"Do… do you really think so? I thought… I thought you would be so angry with me. But I could not bear it if you wondered every day if… if…"

Magnus smiled thinly. "I would see the evidence of it every time I looked into your eyes, I can assure you," he said softly. Distraught by that, Lauren bowed her head in shame. Magnus sighed and stroked her hand with his thumb. "I thought—I
hoped
—that you would one day return my affection, but I no longer believe that is possible. You love him too deeply, I think." She glanced up; his clear blue eyes locking with hers. "And I thought I knew what I wanted—a wife to give me an heir, nothing more. But now I realize I want the woman I marry to return my affection. I want to see the tenderness in her eyes when she looks at me. I do not want her to dread the touch of my hand."

"Oh
Magnus
," she whispered, a fat tear falling on his cuff. "I am so
sorry!
I should not have… I did not plan for this—"