In the Garden of Deceit (Book 4) (13 page)

Now
the gooseflesh she wore had nothing to do with the cold water.
Immediately, Amanda dried herself, slipping on the nightdress. No
longer naked, she felt less vulnerable. She pulled the pins from her
hair, brushed it in a rush, her shaking hands working a quick braid.

The
gigantic bed awaited and Amanda plunged beneath the covers, drawing
them up to her chin. She left the oil lamp burning, unwilling to
reduce the visibility in the chamber even a little. She was ashamed
of her sudden fear, but reassured herself that it was only her lack
of familiarity in her new home that was upsetting her.

However,
she couldn’t shake the notion that someone had been watching
her. It was a terrible feeling that made her skin creep. She actually
hoped James would join her soon. Fending off his advances was nothing
compared to fending off the unknown.

The
clock on the mantel chimed the hour, eleven o’clock, and still
her husband failed to show. And she was disappointed. Unable to hold
her eyes open any longer, Amanda allowed them to slip shut. She began
to doze, and then to dream. Sometime during the night she awakened.
Her husband’s side of the bed was still empty.

***

James
was startled awake by the eerie hooting of a barn owl. The sound
echoed through the darkness, seeming to hover on the cool night air
before fading hauntingly away.

His
eyes felt gritty and they burned as he tried to focus them. He was
sprawled in a leather chair in front of the fireplace in the library,
an empty brandy glass at his elbow. How long had he been sleeping?

He
checked his pocket watch. Five o’clock in the morning. The
night was almost over. He straightened abruptly, memory assaulting
him.

He
had not meant to fall asleep in the library, only retreating here
when his courage had failed him.

Last
evening he had bid his family goodnight, remaining downstairs and
pouring himself one more brandy before retiring to give Amanda time
to prepare herself for bed. His pride knew no bounds as he climbed
the stairs a short while later. Tonight he had been witness to
Amanda’s true character, her kindness, her gentleness of
spirit. And with those overwhelming emotions squeezing his heart, he
knew his confession to Aunt Henry had not been a sham. He loved his
beautiful wife absolutely.

James
had entered their bedchamber without thinking, expecting to find
Amanda tucked beneath the covers, pretending to sleep. That thought
had caused him to smile indulgently as he placed his hand on the
handle and eased the door open. He froze on the threshold. His wife
stood in front of the dressing table mirror, naked to the waist,
taking a sponge bath.

Her
back was exposed to him, but he caught the under curve of one soft
breast, the slightest glimpse of a pink nipple, as she ran a
washcloth along her raised arm and down her ribs. Her motions were
languid and utterly feminine and without the modesty of
self-consciousness. Wet skin slick with soap shone seductively in the
lamp light.

He
was mesmerized.

Had
this been the night of his wedding, James would not have held back.
In fact, he had not hesitated when presented with a similar
situation. He had seduced his wife—and definitely
himself—before the wedding party, until both of them were ready
to cast off duty and sink into the joy that awaited them. That night
only days ago seemed like another lifetime.

With
all his being James wanted to cross the room and take his lovely wife
in his arms, to make love to her as he should have done hours after
their marriage. And she would have welcomed him then, a fact that
filled him with longing and regret.

It
wasn’t only desire that moved him, however. There was a
burgeoning tenderness in the middle of his chest that begged for
expression. The feeling was so new, so raw, it was a physical ache.
Skin to skin, soft, deep kisses and caressing touches all saturated
his thoughts, along with the more savage variety of lovemaking that
made him seethe with impatience.

For
long moments he stood there, undecided. He had told her the bargain
was now in play. He had indicated that he expected her to keep her
promise. Amanda was proud. James suspected she would go along because
of pride. Tonight that was not good enough. Maybe tomorrow he could
settle for grudging cooperation but tonight he wanted more.

He
eased into the hall, closing the door behind him. He would return
downstairs until he had command of his emotions.

And
that was how he found himself in the library, drinking another brandy
and feeling sorry for himself. Thirty minutes passed as the alcohol
worked on his nerves, but as he sat in the leather chair, staring
moodily at a dying fire, he knew he could not return tonight.

Impossible
that he could go back to that room and pretend he had not seen Amanda
at her bath. The sensuous image was burned on his brain, and he
returned to it over and over, his hunger growing steadily despite the
numbing effects of the brandy. He had worried that he could not
bridle an appetite out of control, that he would force the issue
between them because he was near to bursting with need. That
predatory behavior, aroused by self-interest, would not resurrect her
faith in him.

He
felt like a coward, avoiding his wife, her power over him making him
stay away. It was a power he was more than willing to give her, but
in her present state of mind it served no purpose. Thus he had slept
alone in a cramped chair, erotic dreams prolonging his misery.

James
breathed a frustrated sigh and heaved himself to his feet. Perhaps he
could sneak into the room and sleep a few hours in the comfort of
their bed, allowing his arms and legs to unknot. And perhaps, now
that his body and thoughts had quieted, he could endure a few hours
next to his wife without exposing his baser self.

He
entered the bedchamber for the second time that night, making as
little sound as possible. She was not pretending to sleep like she
had the night before. Amanda’s deep, even breathing indicated
she was in heavy slumber. He removed his shirt but retained his
trousers. He assumed waking up in bed with a naked man might
disconcert her.

One
thing he was certain of as he eased beneath the covers. Amanda was
right. A lack of privacy, their forced existence on intimate terms,
would be difficult to bear. James wondered who would break first. He
grinned sleepily, his eyes drifting shut. No contest there. He was
already a broken man.

***

CHAPTER
9

Amanda
was at breakfast, enjoying a convivial meal with her new family, when
James entered the morning room. His smile was pleasant, but the look
in his eyes when he passed them over her was evasive. She had feared
her husband was avoiding her. Now she knew it for certain. And even
though she had gone out of her way to discourage him, she was hurt.

“Hello,
Twins, Huey, Aunt Henry…Wife,” James greeted everyone as
he moved to the sideboard.

In
unison those at the table looked up from their meals and cheerily
returned his salutation.

But
Amanda had heard the slight hesitance in James’s voice when he
addressed her and was doubly hurt. She stared at her meal, appetite
dissipating.

“Everyone
slept well, I hope,” he continued, ladling an generous amount
of food on his plate.

“I
did,” Huey stated. “But then I always do.”

“Like
the dead, eh, Uncle Huey?” James returned.

“Like
the dead,” Huey repeated as if he found the expression to his
liking. He grinned, nodding to himself.

“And
how about you, James,” Aunt Henry put in. “Did you sleep
well?”

James
glanced over his shoulder, briefly meeting Amanda’s gaze. “Uh,
yes, I slept well, thank you.”

He
took the chair next to his wife. She suspected he had bathed this
morning, because he looked not only fresh and newly pressed, his hair
still damp, he smelled wonderfully of shaving soap and clean linen.
His elbow brushed hers as he began his meal, and her stomach dropped,
her awareness of him intensifying.

Amanda
had awakened this morning to find him sleeping next to her. When had
that happened? she had wondered. She was unnerved to realize he had
managed to enter the room without her hearing him.

He
had been lying on his side, facing her, and the covers had slipped to
his waist, revealing a handsome masculine chest. She had seen a man’s
naked torso before—never thought much of it—but not one
like his.

Most
men of leisure had a softness to them and pale skin that never saw
daylight. Probably that was preferable and definitely a sign of
wealth. However, James had lean muscles in his arms and chest and
even his stomach that quite fascinated her. The body of a peasant
some would say. A body, however, that inspired an instant and earthy
reaction—at least in her.

She
was shocked by how strong her desire had been to touch him. How easy
it would have been to tease her husband awake, to entice him into
making love to her. Instead, she had slipped from the bed, dressed
behind a screen and scurried from the room as if the desire she felt
was a demon she must outrun.

As
she sat next to him now, Amanda wondered why she had resisted.
Perhaps she was afraid to admit how much she cared for him and how
much it hurt that he did not feel the same. Or more likely, she
admitted reluctantly, he had promised to test their bargain last
night and had failed to show, leaving her feeling relieved and—dare
she admit it?—letdown. How could she instigate an encounter
when it apparently had been of no real importance to him despite that
promise?

Gradually,
the morning room emptied, everyone having finished their meals,
except Amanda and James—James because he had taken so much food
and Amanda because she had stopped eating as soon as he sat down. The
room had grown quiet and uncomfortable, and she decided to abandon
the table as well.

She
pushed her chair back and James looked at her suddenly, almost as if
he could hear her thoughts. It was a deep, assessing look, no evading
her now. What she saw there made her pulse leap.

She
swallowed, suddenly nervous. “Yes?”

“Why
aren’t you eating?”

“I
took more than I wanted, I’m afraid.”

“You
haven’t eaten a bite since I entered the room.”

“Have
you been watching me?”

“Hard
to miss, Amanda. You are laughing and dining with my family. I arrive
and you turn to stone.”

“I
was merely thinking. No harm in that.”

He
put his fork down and turned to her. “It occurs to me that if
we can’t be honest with one another we are in for a bleak
future.”

“Do
you really think so?” she asked, sounding more bitter than she
meant to.

He
must have realized his mistake even as she spoke because his eyes
widened with sudden understanding.

“I
was
thinking, James.”

“Can
you share those thoughts with me?”

She
looked at her plate again. Could she? Perhaps in part. “I was
wondering where you were last night.”

“I
thought you would be relieved that I stayed away.”

“Is
that what you were doing? Relieving my mind?”

“No,”
he said quietly.

The
silence stretched between them again.

“I
did come to the room,” James said at last.

“You
did? When?”

He
tried to look at her, she knew he did, but his gaze shifted to
something outside the window. Whatever it was, it seemed to take his
interest.

“When?”
she prodded.

“When
you were preparing for bed,” he said, still watching the
window.

“Oh.
B-before I undressed?”

“No.”

He
did look at her then, his frosty blue eyes probing into hers with
such intensity, she felt her toes curl.

“You
were washing,” he continued.

“That
was you? Why didn’t you say something? You scared me nearly to
death!”

“I’m
sorry. I didn’t know you heard me. I was afraid you would be
angry that I had walked in on you.”

“I
might have been,” she grumbled. “But I thought that was
the very opening you were seeking.”

“Were
you aiding my cause, Amanda?” James asked, a provocative light
entering his gaze. “Wish I had known.”

“Don’t
be silly. I felt grimy after a long trip. I hadn’t a clue that
you saw me.”

“I
know. You looked so carefree that I didn’t have the heart to
interrupt your private moment.”

“How
long were you there?”

“Long
enough.”

“You
watched me?” she asked faintly.

“Yes.”

She
had a feeling it cost him to admit that.

“Why…why
didn’t you come back?” she asked.

The
light in his eyes deepened, his lids drooping. “I wanted to.”

Her
stomach did that odd drop again, and despite herself Amanda
remembered his lean body as he lay next to her this morning. What if
he
had
come back? What conversation would they be having now
instead of this awkward trading of words? Would making love heal the
pain between them? How simplistic if it were true. And how foolhardy
to believe it.

He
leaned close to her, kissing her gently. “You are so beautiful,
Amanda,” he whispered against her lips. “When do we end
this torture? I need you.”

She
went limp, her eyes closing as excruciatingly erotic sensations
filtered through her system. His husky voice, his touch, pulled at
her reservations, making denial seem ridiculous. If for one moment
she felt she could divorce the needs of her heart from those of her
body, she would not hesitate.

James
must have known the war she waged with herself, for he took hold of
her upper arms, nearly dragging her from her chair. He deepened the
kiss. His mouth slid to her jaw and down her throat, relentless
stimulation that gave her no time to think. Amanda could feel the
tension in him, raw desire like a narcotic smoke, swirling around
them, seducing them both.