Stormswept (31 page)

Or to be so heart-wrenchingly alone.

He craved her more each day, no matter how he blocked her from his activities. And it wasn’t just the pleasures of her body, but the way she startled when he entered a room, the smile that broke over her face when he amused her with a funny tale, her endearing turns of phrase and her quick wit.

What would it be like to have her be his wife entirely? To have her share not only his bed, but his thoughts, his
plans, his hopes for the future? To wake up beside her in the morning? To have her rub his back? To help her dress, letting his fingers linger as he fastened everything he’d unfastened the night before?

He’d never lived with her like that . . . never spent more than one night in the same room with her. But his imagination painted a picture too tempting to be borne.

This was insane. If he wanted Juliana to be his wife in every way, he could have her. She was willing. She only required his trust.

Yesterday, he’d said he couldn’t pay her price. Today, he wondered why not. She’d betrayed him once, but that was long ago. Had she betrayed him since his return?

Nay. She’d defied him, but her household rebellions commanded his respect, not his distrust. She hadn’t tried to rouse her brothers against him . . . she hadn’t tried to run away. She’d endured his petty tyrannies with grace and forbearance.

Would it be so impossible to give her what she asked?

Glancing at the clock, he got a start. It was almost one. She must have ordered the servants to let him sleep.

He left the bed, smiling as he quickly dressed. No doubt she had a reason for that. Some plot to arm the footmen against him, or ordering the cook to feed him gruel so he’d have no strength to seduce her. With Juliana, there was no telling.

The urge to see her grew so great, he hurried out to find her. Hearing voices in the salon, he strode that direction. Just as he reached the door, a faintly familiar voice halted him.

“So what do you want me to tell him, Juliana?” the man said. “You’ve read the letter. Lord Devon insists that you meet with him, and he’s appealing to me and Darcy to arrange it. I have to give him some answer.”

It was St. Albans. Come to wrest his wife from him.

Fury ripping through him, he jerked the door open. Both St. Albans and Juliana whirled around. He didn’t need to see her guilty flush or St. Albans’s terror to know he’d stumbled onto a discussion he hadn’t been meant to hear.

In two quick strides, he was across the room and drawing his brother-in-law up by the collar. “You tell that bastard Devon that my wife is no longer his to command! ” He twisted the collar until it tightened about St. Albans’s neck. “And if I ever find you bringing letters to Juliana from him again, I’ll bind you hand and foot and sink you in the Towy! ”

“Rhys! ” Juliana yanked on his arm. “Let him go! Please! ”

“What’s he doing here?” Rhys shook St. Albans, who was starting to turn blue. “Why is he bringing letters to you from Devon?”

“Let him go, Rhys,” said another voice.

Releasing St. Albans, he turned to find Morgan standing there. “What are
you
doing—” He glanced at St. Albans, who was pulling at his collar, gasping for breath. “Surely the two of you didn’t come here together.”

But obviously they had. “What the hell is going on?”

“St. Albans wanted to make sure Juliana was all right, and I accompanied him because he was afraid you wouldn’t let him see her.”

“Damned right I wouldn’t have,” Rhys bit out. “Especially if I’d known he was playing messenger for that damned marquess. How could you bring him here to coax my own wife away from me? What kind of friend are you?”

“I didn’t know he had letters from Devon with him.”

“Be quiet, the lot of you! ” Juliana turned on Rhys, eyes flashing. “How dare you say who I can and can’t receive letters from? Overton brought a letter addressed to me, and I had every right to read it.”

He bore down on her. “How many letters like this has he delivered? How many times has he sneaked in here behind my back to help you carry on a clandestine correspondence with your former betrothed?”

“Don’t be absurd! As if anyone could sneak in here with the footmen and butler and maids running about. This is the first time Overton has visited, and I assure you I didn’t know he was bringing letters from Stephen.”

More than one letter. And she’d used Devon’s Christian name. That sent him over the edge. “Well, it’s the last time your brother will be coming here. And there will be no more letters from your precious Stephen, if I have to lock you into your bedchamber to ensure it.”

“Juliana! ” cried St. Albans. “You must let me tell Vaughan what—”

“
No! 
” She fixed her gaze on Rhys. “Go home, Overton. Thank you for coming and thank you for your offer, but I’ll handle this my own way.”

“Yes, go home, St. Albans,” Rhys echoed. “And don’t come back.”

Juliana settled her hands on her hips. “Pay my husband
no mind. He becomes irrational whenever Lord Devon’s name is mentioned.”

“Irrational! ” Rhys growled. “Because I take umbrage at having my wife—”

Juliana turned her gaze to Pennant. “Morgan, take him out of here and go. Both of you, please. I need to talk to my husband. Alone.”

“Come on, lad,” Morgan said.

“I can’t leave her with this madman! ” St. Albans protested. Only when Rhys fixed him with a murderous glare did he let Morgan drag him from the room.

Rhys closed the door behind them. “The letters.” He snapped his fingers. “Give them to me, if you please.”

“Oh, you blasted fool.” She threw them at him. “Read my ‘clandestine’ correspondence if you wish.”

Both were from Lord Devon. The first was addressed to Lord Northcliffe and St. Albans, asking them in cordial terms to arrange a meeting between him and Juliana.

But the other was addressed to “Lady Juliana, my one true love.” Full of effusive apologies and compliments, it stated Lord Devon’s desire to renew his courtship of her if she could arrange a divorce from her husband.

The letter would have enraged him, except for one fact. It was clearly the first, and it didn’t appear to have been solicited by Juliana.

“So your titled former betrothed wants a meeting, does he?” Rhys tossed the letters into the fire. “Well, he’s not having one.”

“I know this is upsetting,” she said calmly, “but I must explain that—”

“He’s had his explanation! ” The thought of her meeting with Lord Devon struck him with such fear, he couldn’t govern his words. “I’m forbidding you to see him or write to him, and I will hold firm on this.”

“Why are you being so pigheaded? I’ve already told you I don’t love him. What would it hurt for me to write a letter explaining—”

“What?” Jealousy rode him hard. “That your cruel husband won’t allow you a divorce? He knows that. Or will you offer him an alternative . . . an affair perhaps, to give him what you deny me?” When she stared at him in horror, he realized he’d gone too far. “Oh God, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“Yes, you did.” She backed away. “No matter what I do, you still think I’m a despicable creature who would betray you at every turn.”

All he’d meant to do before he’d come in here was tell her that he cared, that he wanted to change things between them. “That’s not—”

“You won’t be happy until I’ve received my just deserts for what I supposedly did to you . . . and for what I
really
did by stupidly keeping our marriage secret.”

Her voice grew choked. “It’s not enough to make me a prisoner in my own home, or cut me off from my family, or refuse my help in caring for the estate. Nay, you must punish me more, mustn’t you? So perhaps I should help you, so we can be done with this once and for all.”

She flew past him to open the door and call for the housekeeper.

“What the devil—”

Mrs. Roberts appeared almost instantly. “Yes, milady?”

“I’ve decided on the marketing list. You won’t find most items in Carmarthen, but I’m sure Simms can get them from a warship in the bay. I’ll need hardtack, the oldest and most maggot-ridden you can find, some salt beef, and grog—let’s not forget grog.”

Mrs. Roberts was aghast. “Why would you and the master want—”

“Oh, not for the master.” Her voice had gone cold. “This is to be my diet. The master will eat his usual fare, but for the next three years or so, I’ll be having—”

“That’s enough! ” Pulling Juliana back into the room, Rhys turned to the startled housekeeper. “Your mistress has had some upsetting news. Ignore what she just said. She’s overwrought.” Then he shut the door.

As Juliana wrenched free of him, the deadness in her eyes chilled him. “I should have realized that wouldn’t be harsh enough for you. It doesn’t entirely live up to what you suffered, does it? Mere food deprivation wouldn’t satisfy your desire for punishment.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I don’t want you punished.” He fought to stay calm when all he felt was growing fear at the strange, lost look on her face.

She didn’t seem to have heard him. “Perhaps a few floggings would satisfy you. But that wouldn’t take care of those years you spent in America.” Her voice was so distant that it clutched at his heart. “You were wounded and cut off from your home.”

He caught her in his arms and held her close. “Hush, my darling.” He’d never seen her like this. He’d driven her
to it with his foolish accusations. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You must help me think of a suitable punishment,” she said hoarsely. “Tell me what you require as penance, so I can be done with it.”

“I don’t want a penance. God knows I don’t want you to suffer what I did.”

“Oh, but you do. You want to strip me of everything, to make me your slave.”

He tightened his arms around her. “I want you to be my wife. Nothing more. I want to put the past behind us and go on.” When she stared at him as if uncomprehending, he said hastily, “You said we should find peace together—and I want that, too. Peace with you. Here at Llynwydd.”

She shook her head. “You want nothing but my body, and certainly not peace. You told me you don’t even know what it is. And now I believe you.”

Her face was so desolate, fear clawed at him. This acquiescence worried him far more than all her anger.

He caught her head in his hands. “You said you’d teach me to find peace. I’m holding you to that promise.”

She closed her eyes. “I can’t. You’ll only hurt me again.”

“I swear I won’t.” He sought for something to pull her out of her hopelessness. “You can’t give up on me. If you do, I’ll . . . I’ll turn into a beast. I’ll terrorize my tenants and run roughshod over the servants.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

He made his voice deliberately provoking. “You don’t care? Then I’ll throw your precious
cwpwrdd tridarn
out
in the rain, and I’ll . . .” God, she was limp in his arms, as if she truly
didn’t
care what he did anymore. He forced steel into his voice. “I’ll cut off Evan’s lessons. I’ll not even give him any paper.”

Her eyes shot open. “You wouldn’t dare! The poor boy never harmed anyone in his whole life. I won’t let you—” As relief flooded his face, she broke off. “You wouldn’t hurt him, would you?”

Encouraged that her expression had lost some of its bleakness, he murmured, “Who knows what I’d do without you? I can be a monster.”

“I know.” She gazed at him a long moment, her vision seeming to clear. When she spoke again, her tone was more pointed. “How well I know.”

The numb creature of a moment ago seemed to have dissolved, leaving his Juliana, full of stubborn rebelliousness. Thank God. “Then tame the monster. You’re the only one who can.”

“I haven’t had much success with that,” she said. “I’ve obviously been going about it all wrong.”

“Nay. You’ve been driving me mad with wanting you, and surely that’s the first step.”

She glanced uncertainly at him. “I think you’re worse when you want me. You become so jealous and wholly irrational.”

“And I say stupid, regrettable things. I shouldn’t have said what I did about you and Devon. I went a little insane at the thought of him trying to get back into your life. But ’tis only because I want you so very much.” He nuzzled her temple, feeling the pulse quicken beneath his lips. “ ’Tis
only because I’ve spent endless hours remembering the feel of your hair, and the taste of your mouth.”

She tried to push away. “You say these lovely things one minute, and then the next—”

“I’ll turn over a new leaf.” He lowered his head. “I promise to be a monster no more, if you’ll only satisfy this craving that’s eating me up.” He brushed a kiss over her cheek. “Only you can assuage this hunger.” He closed his mouth over hers, fearful she wouldn’t respond, that he’d driven her out of his reach.

But although she stilled, her mouth softened. He lingered over her lips, drinking her hot little breaths until he could stand the beckoning heat no more. Then he plunged his tongue inside.

By thunder, she was wonderful. And she was his, all his, whether she admitted it yet or not.

Taking his time, he explored the hot satin of her mouth, the slide of her tongue around his. And when she slipped her arms about his waist and pressed against him, he took the invitation to grow bolder, rubbing his palm over her breast, groaning when she arched into his hand.

“That’s it, darling,” he whispered against her lips, then trailed kisses along her cheek. “That’s the way to tame the monster.”

“You’re not acting tame,” she grumbled. But when he ran his tongue along the rim of her ear, she curved her body against his like a cat.

“Neither are you.” He found the hooks that held her bodice together.

“Rhys! ” she protested when he worked them loose.
“For God’s sake, ’tis daylight and we’re in the middle of the salon.”

“Aye, and after yesterday, that’s where we’ll stay. I’ll not lose you on the way to the bedroom again.”

He kissed her hard then. Peeling open her bodice and drawing down the neck of her shift, he filled his hands with her breasts, thrust high by her corset. Then he thumbed her nipples until they were hard as cherry stones. Hard and sweet and driving him utterly mad.