A Woman Scorned (20 page)

Slowly, she looked up at him from beneath lids that were heavy. The skin under her eyes was dark from a lack of sleep, and her mouth quivered uncertainly. “Dear God, I am the worst sort of fool,” she finally said, her voice almost inaudible. “I cannot think why I trust anyone, let alone you.”

“Jonet, my dear, I think you must trust someone.” Cole spoke quietly. “I do not mean to be cruel, but I do believe you are on the edge of a mental collapse—and not without reason,” he swiftly added. “But one cannot escape the fact that you were brandishing a crop in James’s face. It won’t do, Jonet. It simply won’t do. Indeed, it gives him ammunition against you.”

With a weak, tremulous shrug, Jonet looked away again. “What would you have me do?” she finally whispered. “I seem not to know what ought to be done any more. Dear heaven, I am too tired to think.” Abruptly, she pulled one arm from his grasp and rubbed a palm against her temple.

“Let me bring the boys down to take tea with James.”

Jonet’s hand dropped. Her face jerked back to his, eyes flaring with alarm.

Cole shook his head. “Jonet, I promise you that I will not leave them. James will simply goad you into a temper, but if I take them, he’ll have no further argument. After all, he has sent me here, and you have accepted that, albeit a little reluctantly.” Cole forced himself to smile at her. “And if he is allowed to visit them, to see how they go on, then he shall have nothing further to quarrel over.”

Jonet inhaled on a deep, shuddering sigh, and Cole forced himself to resist the urge to pull her into his arms. Dear heaven, she looked so small, so very frail. Beyond the bay window of the breakfast parlor, the wind was already beginning to whip at the young birch trees, unsettling the branches and flicking the leaves upside down to catch the sun. With a soft sigh, Cole slid his hands a little further around her shoulders and patted Jonet lightly on the back, resisting the urge to drag her against his chest and press his face into her soft mass of black hair.

He knew that it was beyond foolish to hold such a woman. She was like quicksilver—tremulously brilliant, dangerously beautiful. He shut away the thought of how ripe and warm her mouth might feel beneath his, and searched his mind for words of mere comfort. But he did not attempt to convince Jonet that her concerns were without foundation. Not after what had happened yesterday. Nonetheless, Jonet could not continue to deny James his rights. Cole knew all too well what the man was capable of.

“All right,” she said quietly, and half turned in his arms to stare through the window with him. She did not look at him as she whispered. “I will do as you say. Pray God that I am not gravely mistaken, but I trust you—or perhaps I ought to say
I need to trust you
.” Her words ended on a little choking sound. “But I doubt that makes any sense.”

Cole still stood with his hands resting lightly on her shoulders, feeling the tension and the uncertainty within her. And in that moment, he ceased to struggle against his better judgement. Suddenly, it seemed the most natural thing in the world to draw Jonet a little nearer and place a light, tender kiss upon her temple. Again, he refused to carefully consider what he was doing, and when his lips should have left her skin, they lingered a moment longer than was wise, lending the caress an intimacy that went beyond a simple gesture of comfort. Her breath escaped on a small, almost wistful sigh. Jonet’s hair was warm and soft against his lips, and for a fleeting moment, he felt her quicken to his touch.

And then abruptly, she jerked away. “Thank you,” she said, her voice husky, as if the words had been stirred from sleep. “You are very kind.”

“Ah,” said Cole, forcing a lightness into his tone as he stepped away from her. “I seem to recall your saying those very words the first time I kissed you. My lips always have just such a devastating effect on women.”

Jonet seemed unaware of his weak attempt at humor. “So you do remember that day?” she asked in a faraway voice.

“Your wedding day,” responded Cole softly, looking across the room and into the distance. “Oh, yes. I remember it well.”

“I . . . I do not. Not the actual wedding, at any rate.” Jonet’s gaze flicked up at him again, and abruptly, she changed the subject. “I will go up to the schoolroom and fetch the boys,” she said reluctantly. “Give me a moment to collect myself, then I shall bring them to you.”

“Yes, of course,” agreed Cole levelly. He ignored an irrational wave of despondency, and forced himself to turn away from her and stride across the breakfast parlor.

Jonet watched him go, her gaze caught by his hand as he laid it flat against the door to push through it and into the hall. His hands were broad palmed, yet elegant. Indeed, she had studied them often enough. The strong tendons and heavy veins lent them character, while his years in the army had left them tan and a little rough. And now she knew that they were gentle, warm, and infinitely comforting. Jonet simply hoped the comfort was something more than a carefully crafted delusion. But dear heaven, Cole was right about one thing. She had to trust somebody. Did she dare to trust him?

The answer was no. Yet matters simply could not go on as they were. Indeed,
she
could not go on as she was. She really was beginning to lose control. It grieved her to admit it. Today she had all but brandished a weapon in James’s face. The near tragedy in Hyde Park had shaken her far more than any of the previous accidents had. And
accident
was really not the proper word, was it?

Jonet was increasingly convinced that nothing which had occurred, beginning with Henry’s death, had been an accident. Wearily, she sat down at the breakfast table and gazed across its width and through the window. She still did not know if she could risk trusting Cole. Her children’s welfare was at stake. And Cole was James’s nephew. Yet her every instinct pulled her to him, and the restraint which was required to resist that temptation was just another drain on her nearly exhausted mind.

Why had he accepted this position in her home, if he did not intend to do James’s bidding? What other reason could there be for such a man—a soldier—to take up such a post? It had taken several weeks to thoroughly investigate him, but she now knew it was not money which motivated him. And she did not for one minute believe he had done it out of the goodness of his heart. Life had taught her that people were almost never that unselfish.

Yet it troubled her to admit how reassuring his embrace felt. Jonet was a tall woman. Few men towered over her the way Cole Amherst did. His chest was broad and his arms were sure. Jonet had wanted nothing so much as to dive into them and remain, sheltered against the wall of his chest, until the trembling inside her ceased and the madness dissipated. It was a luxury she had never known. One that she could not now afford.

How odd, and yet how natural, his touch seemed. And he had kissed her—an almost brotherly gesture at first. But then, it had felt almost as if he had lingered, as if he had briefly considered skimming his lips down her brow to turn the kiss into something more erotic than comforting. And Jonet had wanted him to do just that. She should have jerked away, mindful of his place in her household. But in truth, she no longer knew what his place in her household was. Effortlessly, and without any degree of arrogance, Cole Amherst took command of people and situations as if it were his duty. And thus far, she had been almost relieved to let him do so.

No, Jonet had not jerked from Cole’s embrace. Instead, she had ached to lean into it, weakly convincing herself that it was perfectly natural to take a moment’s comfort from him, because Cole was
family
—an idea she had found laughable but a few days earlier. The Rowland family had never brought her anything but grief. And yet, for the briefest of moments, Jonet had allowed herself to forget that her children were in danger, and that her worst enemy lay in wait for them just inside her drawing room.

Foolishly, she had savored the heat of Cole Amherst’s sinfully erotic mouth against her skin, desperately wishing that he would slide his lips over hers and take her with a savagery sufficient to blind out all else. He was more than capable. Raw power and repressed sensuality boiled just below his steadfast restraint. A man was not gifted with such wicked lips, were he incapable of using them to every advantage.

And the rest of him was equally promising. With a little cry of despair, Jonet pushed away the thought. How dangerous! Oh, she had toyed with the thought of seducing him, and would willingly have done so had she thought it would keep her children safe. But whatever Cole Amherst’s ambition, Jonet had come to suspect it would not be thwarted by seduction. That sensuous mouth aside, Cole was too driven, too self-possessed, to yield to feminine manipulation, while fear and fatigue had stripped Jonet of her usual cold, unyielding strength, leaving her susceptible to all sorts of foolish emotion. She had become weak, though she took great pains to hide it. Yet her hard veneer was cracking, and Jonet felt it all too keenly.

Sighing into the emptiness of the room, Jonet was further shaken by the realization that for the first time in her life, she almost missed her husband. At times, she had hated Henry, it was true. But the last few years of her marriage had finally brought a sense of peace; a poignant acceptance of the fact that her life was all it would ever be. Her children had been her reason for living, while David had been her comfort. And Henry had been . . . what? At least he had ceased to be her enemy. It was true that the gossip about David had finally enraged him, but Henry would never have carried out his threats. Given time, she could have brought him around. But fate had cheated her of the chance.

Well! There was nothing to be gained by regretting the past. She would bring the boys down as Cole suggested. But she had no intention of leaving them alone. Rationally, she knew James could not snatch them from her very drawing room, but it was the irrational that so often drove Jonet nowadays. It would be easy enough to go around through the book-room and stand by the double doors that connected it to the drawing room. Perhaps she might even learn why Cole had come to Mercer House. And like so many other sins these days, eavesdropping was no longer beneath Jonet.

 6 

Lord Delacourt issues a Challenge

T
he coffee had barely cooled when it became painfully obvious to Cole that James’s interest in Robert and Stuart was superficial at best. Throughout the visit, which lasted all of fifteen minutes, it became clear that James was more interested in needling Jonet than in caring for her children. Eventually, he drew out his watch and peered at it with barely suppressed impatience. “Well!” he said, coming forward in his chair to heartily slap his thighs. “You two seem to be flourishing under your cousin’s tutelage. It was a wise decision on my part, I can see that.”

“Yes, sir,” answered Stuart flatly. Robert said nothing, but fidgeted in his chair.

James gave his broad, disingenuous smile. “Right then! Well, off with you now. I must speak privately with your cousin for a few moments.” Sonorously, he cleared his throat. “It was very good to have seen you at last.” A hint of sarcasm laced his tone, but if the boys noticed it, they gave no indication.

“Good day, sir,” said Stuart, sliding to his feet. “It was good of you to come, I am sure.”

“Yes, sir,” agreed Robert dully, following his brother’s actions. “Good day, sir.”

Together, they all but flew across the room and escaped into the corridor. As soon as the door thumped shut, James leaned forward. “Well, Cole?” he said abruptly. “What have you learned?”

With calculated deliberation, Cole elevated his brows and studied his uncle carefully. “I have learned, sir, that Robert has charm, but his arithmetic skills are very poor. And Stuart has quite a flair for languages, but he is too quiet. But both are bright, and potentially—”

“No, no, no!” James interrupted, shaking his beefy jowls. “About
her
. What about her? Has she done or said anything that would give me cause to take charge of the boys? What sort of mischief is she about? Good God, Cole! Have you uncovered nothing in the month since I sent you here?”