Helen Dickson (15 page)

‘I hope so. Sometimes men can bring nothing but anguish to any woman foolish enough to love them. I know that to my cost,’ she said quietly. ‘They’re devilishly appealing, but they’re also dangerous and destructive. You get so caught up in them—’ She cut herself short, frowning.

Laura looked at her steadily. ‘You loved Lucas, too, didn’t you, Caroline?’ she said.

‘I…I thought I did, once—along with every unattached female in London, I might add. But I was speaking of men in general, not Lucas. I have made plenty of mistakes where they are concerned—and we’re all entitled to make our mistakes. Unfortunately I never seem to learn from mine,’ she said, smiling.

‘Was it a mistake when you ran away with Anton?’

‘No. I have Louis, and I wouldn’t be without him for the world.’

On the way back to her room Laura paused at a window on the wide gallery overlooking the cove. Standing in the folds of the curtain, she peered out, but the night was so dark she could see nothing but a blanket of blackness. Her mind dwelt on the conversation she’d had with Caroline, and she was beginning to think that her earlier opinion and suspicions about her were unfounded. She thought how strange people were, how complicated, and as her eyes be
gan to pierce the blackness she realised how easy it was to misjudge them.

She hoped she would never learn to hate Caroline, and now, after conversing with her as she would with a sister, she believed that nothing she could ever do could make her. Only Lucas could make her do that—by forgetting his vows, and the one he had made.

Forsaking all others.

She was about to move on, but on hearing footsteps coming down the gallery she hesitated. Then, before her amazed eyes, she saw Lucas appear out of the gloom. His head was bowed, and she watched him pass by. The only reason he hadn’t seen her was that she was standing in the shadows and was mostly hidden by the long curtain. She had also, from the moment she had heard him approach, remained still. Her eyes followed him, unable to believe what she was seeing, unable to believe it when he knocked gently on Caroline’s door and went inside without waiting to be bidden from within.

Casting all decorum aside, she was about to hurl herself down the gallery after him, to thrust the door to Caroline’s room open and demand to know what he was doing. But instead she walked towards it calmly, afraid of what she might see but knowing she must.

Lucas had left the door slightly ajar. Laura gave it a small shove so that it opened several inches, just enough for her to see the occupants standing close to the bed. Lucas’s cheek was resting on the top of Caroline’s head, his arms wrapped possessively round her. Laura hung there, her eyes blinded by a scalding rush of tears, but when she stepped back the tears were gone. What had come to take their place was a dreadful rage that consumed her, a rage that was deaf to reason.

The two of them were too wrapped up in each other to notice her. As jealousy and pain slyly, slowly ate their way into her soul, it was with a tremendous effort that she re
strained herself. She clenched her hands so tightly together that her nails bit into her palms. Furiously she turned away.

In her young and bitter scorn she believed what her eyes had seen, and she cursed her husband for being a lecherous swine. How many other nights had he come creeping along the gallery to Caroline’s room? Her scorn was not directed at Caroline, for Caroline had not known Lucas would call on her, of this she was certain, otherwise she would not have asked her to stay longer. Unless, Laura thought wretchedly, for some perverted reason of her own, Caroline had wanted her to be there when Lucas came calling. This thought was too terrible, too humiliating to be borne. She could not believe that Caroline, after securing her trust, could behave so vindictively.

She walked quickly to her room and went inside. Torturing herself with images of what Lucas might be doing to Caroline, she leaned against the cold wood of the door until her rage had passed, leaving in its wake a cold, calm anger. Around her the house was silent, an ominous, brooding, waiting silence, like that of a dark night in the cove, when smugglers and their beasts held their breath in anticipation of a landing of contraband from across the Channel.

All Laura’s cherished illusions about the man she had married had been destroyed in that one instant. Her life was in ruins. How could Lucas do this to her? He had betrayed and degraded her in her own home. Feeling a need to do something, after removing her robe and flinging it onto the bed, she crossed to the dressing table. Picking up her brush, she began brushing her hair vigorously, feeling her scalp tingle with every stroke. She felt enraged and humiliated, and she wanted to cry, to understand why she should feel so annihilated, but all she understood was her isolation, her helplessness.

She started up as the door opened abruptly to admit her husband, controlling the shaft of rage which twisted
through her. That took great strength, and soon she felt not only stronger mentally, but physically, too.

Lucas was a towering masculine presence in her bedchamber, but she refused to allow his imposing height to intimidate her. She took judicious note of the taut set of his jaw and the small lines of ruthlessness around his mouth, but was not daunted by it.

As he moved further into the room she saw there was something controlled and purposeful about him, which, Laura suspected, had a great deal to do with his visit to Caroline. His long, muscular frame was casually attired in shirt and breeches. His eyes, brilliant and piercing and capable of stripping away her resolve, became locked on hers. He appeared to be relaxed, his stance casual. In fact he was treating his visit to her room with a cool nonchalance that seemed inappropriate in the light of where he had come from.

She had a hard note in her clear voice when she spoke, and her eyes were like blazing daggers. ‘This is the second time you have entered my room uninvited, Lucas. I did not hear you knock.’

His smiling mouth tightened ominously and he tensed. He sensed that she had withdrawn from him, as if the closeness, the tenderness they had shared earlier had never existed. ‘Possibly because I didn’t,’ he replied.

‘Then you should have. Your visit is inconvenient. I am about to go to bed.’

‘Don’t let me stop you,’ he said shortly, frowning, wondering at the unexplainable violence glittering in her eyes—and her complete change of attitude. What could have happened for her to suddenly find his company repugnant?

‘You won’t. But I will not do so while you remain in my room. Kindly leave,’ she said with deliberate cruelty.

‘I have no intention of doing anything of the kind.’ He moved closer to where she stood, seeing traces of stormy rebellion in those long-lashed blue eyes and stubborn chin,
a courageous defiance that had gained in strength since they had parted earlier.

Finding herself in such close proximity to him, Laura forced herself to ignore the wild appeal that, even in her anger, he made to her senses. ‘What has brought you here, Lucas? Could it be that your conscience is troubling you?’

Lucas looked searchingly into her eyes, his expression grave. Mistaking her meaning and believing she was referring to their argument about Carlyle almost two weeks ago, he said, ‘If it’s any consolation, I still feel wretched about what I said to you that day on the cliff-top—what I accused you of. My conduct was inexcusable. I don’t blame you for being angry. Can you not find it in your heart to forgive me?’

Just an hour ago Laura would have said yes without hesitation, but now everything had changed, and she was too devastated by his faithlessness to temper her reply. ‘Are you apologising?’

‘Absolutely.’ He sighed his impatience. ‘Laura, why are you doing this? Why drag this up now? I thought we’d put all that behind us. Why this change of heart?’

‘My change of heart has got nothing to do with Edward. But, since you mention it, you might be able to put it behind you, but I can’t. Do you admit that you wrongly accused me of being a slut?’

‘You exaggerate. I never called you that.’

‘Perhaps not in so many words, but you might as well have. Now, will you please go?’

‘No, Laura, I won’t leave you. You cannot go on ignoring the fact that we are husband and wife.’

‘It is something I am hardly likely to forget,’ she retorted unkindly.

‘If you’re thinking of the way we met, forget it. It is behind us now.’

‘Is it?’ How would she ever be able to forget, when the
woman he had planned to elope with was living in the same house?

‘For me it is.’

‘Perhaps my memory is clearer than yours. Perhaps I cannot forget as easily as you—and perhaps I have good reason not to. So if you have come here to talk, it can wait until morning.’

‘I have not come here to talk, Laura.’

His eyes were steadily challenging. ‘Then what do you want?’

‘You,’ he stated implacably. ‘And I am not leaving this room until you get into that bed. You had no objections earlier. What has changed you?’

Laura stared at him. His words rendered her momentarily speechless, searing into her like a shot from a gun. She stared up at him, and she had to fight the simultaneous impulse to murder him for his treachery, and the stronger urge to throw herself into his arms. She wanted him to hold her, to love her. Just for tonight. But she couldn’t, because she couldn’t blot out the picture of him and Caroline together. Not for one second could she do that.

Lucas was close enough to smell her perfume, which mingled with the essence of pure womanhood and raced through his bloodstream like an aphrodisiac. Even in her scorn and defiance she was magnificent. She looked so damned beautiful, and he could not believe his body’s craving for her.

‘I want you, Laura. I want you now, tonight, in my bed—willingly. I have certain legal rights I have not claimed in two years.’

His cool gaze warmed as it rested on her. Her face gleamed with a soft, creamy lustre. She had brushed her hair to a silky sheen, and it fell about her shoulders like a magnificent black cape. The candlelight was behind her, and he could see the shadow of her limbs through the thin material of her nightdress, which clung to the ripe contours
of her body—and his imagination was already telling him that it would fit his own to perfection.

She was very lovely, this obstinate, spirited young woman he had married. So lovely, in fact, that he could almost forgive her for her coolness towards him in recent days. Perhaps, too, if tonight she would come to him willingly, he would forgive her for making him wait so long to possess her. But he would wait no longer. She was his wife. His body had been starved for more than two years, and he was impatient to have her stretched out beside him.

Laura reached out to pick up her robe from the bed. His hand grasped her wrist. ‘You will not need the robe.’

She snatched her hand free and backed away from him. Her lips tightened to a thin line, and the eyes she turned on him continued to blaze their defiance. ‘I am tired, Lucas. Please have the courtesy to leave me in peace.’

Since that day on the cliff-top Lucas had told himself over and over again that Laura had been hurt and humiliated by what he had said, and that she would undoubtedly demonstrate her anger and rebellion against him by doing whatever she could to defy and provoke him. He tried to remind himself of the promise he had made before seeking her out, that no matter what she said he would be patient and understanding, but when he met her ire head-on it was all he could do to bridle his temper.

Placing his hands on his hips, he regarded her coldly. ‘Laura, I command you to stop this. I have been home for two weeks. I have been extremely patient with you, but enough is enough. I will endure your moods no longer. You are making a mountain out of a molehill about what I said about you and Carlyle. When you told me earlier that you do not love him, I believed you. Where you and I are concerned, he is of no consequence. We can’t quarrel over him. So come, my love. Get into bed. This time, I promise, you will not be disappointed.’

The empty endearment made Laura’s cheeks flame. ‘I
am not your love and I will not get into bed.’ Despite her anger she suddenly felt as vulnerable as she had on the one and only night they had spent together. Folding her arms across her chest protectively, she crossed the room, nervously placing herself out of his reach. ‘Must I remind you of the promise you made—that you would give me time? I expect you to honour that. I have already told you that on our wedding night I did not take kindly to being seized and forced to submit to a man who used me most shamefully.’

‘My apologies, madam.’ Lucas said, smiling sardonically, a hard glitter lighting his eyes. ‘I promise to do better the next time.’ With growing impatience he tensed his jaw. ‘But enough of this chastity and restraint. I see you are determined to play the reluctant virgin to the hilt, when we both know you have no cause. Do you find the idea of sharing a bed with me distasteful?’

‘It’s what happens in the bed I find distasteful,’ she retorted, her nose elevated to a lofty angle.

He nodded, watching her steadily. ‘So, tell me. When we were dancing, did you or did you not invite me to your room?’

She glared at him. ‘Whatever I said then, I’ve changed my mind.’

Raking his fingers through his hair, Lucas swore with exasperation beneath his breath. The woman who was glaring at him from across the room was stubbornness and pride personified—tempestuous and wildly desirable, and with a will of unbending iron she continued to deny him. Yet for all her spirit and defiance, and the way she adroitly evaded him, he was not repulsed or discouraged. Indeed, he found the whole affair challenging. With the grace of a stalking panther he crossed the room towards her.

Laura stood her ground.

Lucas loomed over her, his face a dark, unreadable mask.
In a silky voice he said, ‘I’m not going to hurt you, Laura. I promise you that.’

‘I recall you saying that to me the first time, and you did,’ she bit back sharply.

He stiffened, seeing the remembered pain in the depths of her wide eyes. Dear lord, how he hated himself for what he had done to her that night. Frowning with concern over the tension on her face, and seeing she was taut in every fibre of her body, he knew that unless he was gentle with her and made her relax he would hurt her no matter what.