Chelynne (41 page)

Chad’s head pounded painfully, and reality merged with fantasy. He was slipping into a fog of confusion, wondering where he was and with whom. Suddenly he slipped an arm about her waist and crushed his mouth down on hers, savoring the wine-sweet flavor, loving the feel of her against him. What promise was this? What madness? During that brief kiss he alternately believed he would die and felt the strength to carry her to the bed and force her with his manhood.

Chelynne weakened under his flaming lips. Every bone turned to fluid, every nerve came alive. Just when she thought that last part of him dead in her he would bring it to life, as he did now. And then he would begin to destroy it, hurting her again. He released her and her fears came true. There was no softness in him, no tenderness. His eyes were again that hard gray flint.

“You would play the virgin lass until the end of time, my love. You have yet to tell me what your story will be when I test the parcel and find the game a fraud.”

“Try me,” she blurted with bravado.

His laughter rang through the room. “Is there some magic spell inside your thighs to bind a man? I doubt it! If you have not yet tasted the nectar then pray do not wait upon me. Test your talents! You have but to choose!”

“You cast me aside and mock my virtue cruelly, my lord,” she said softly. “I will not stay and watch you laugh as my years waste me away under the fine comforts of your holdings. Never did I ask for this. Only for the goodness of your love did I speak my vows.”

Chad snorted, the pain growing almost unbearable. “‘Twas the size of my purse that brought you and the size of my purse will hold you.”

“Nay,” she cried, insulted now to the depth of her endurance. “Whatever painful memory pricks your mind so that you cannot find any peace within yourself is beyond me. But hear this, my lord fool: I will not withstand one more test for your satisfaction. I repeat, what you have to offer is no great prize to forfeit!”

She turned on her heel and stamped out of the room. She heard the smashing of glass and stopped in her tracks, a slow smile spreading over her face at the thought that she had touched him at last. Her smile faded as she heard a low moan come from his room.

Turning slowly she went back to the open door to peek into his room. Chad was slumped and holding the wall for support. She eyed him quizzically, wondering at his strange behavior, and then he fell to his knees. “Chad?”

He turned glassy eyes in her direction and held his upper arm with his hand. Then he pulled his hand away from his injury and viewed with some distraction the bright red that stained his palm.

“You’re hurt,” she breathed, rushing to him. “Oh, Chad, why didn’t you tell me?”

He sat back on his heels and allowed her to help him out of his coat. The wound had begun to bleed profusely, and the bandage and white linen shirt were red with his blood. “Come, you’ve got to help me,” she urged, pulling him to his feet. With a great deal of effort she managed to get him onto the bed, muttering distractedly the entire time. “Oh, why has Sebastian left us? Perhaps Stella could...no, she is weakened by the prick of a pin. Bestel is not here. Darling, you’ve got to help me a little...”

Chad couldn’t focus on her features but did as he was directed. The touch of her soft, warm hands stripping away the makeshift bandage was comforting. Feeling the softness of his bed beneath him and hearing the lulling voice of his wife, he let his eyes close and allowed his body to untense.

Chad could feel the bed rise and fall as she flitted away and returned. There were more people in the room now. Water and fresh bandages were brought for Chelynne. He felt the edge of a glass being pressed to his lips and obediently he drank the brew for a greater numbing effect. The wound was cleansed and oddly he felt no pain, just a hazy brushing against that tender place, the tiny pricks of mending as she tended him.

Much pleasure was coming from this injury, he thought in hazy delirium. Her voice had become a lilting melody for a troubled man. Her presence and the fact that she was so intent on helping him brought bliss. He was still and quiet and let her work her will.

The room had been quiet for some time and he had not felt her presence. He dared to open one eye slightly and saw that she had pulled a chair to the edge of the bed to keep a vigil at his side. Her velvet gown had been replaced by a light and lacy dressing gown as she hovered there, carefully guarding him. The image was clouded by his lashes but he could see the soft, light brown hair tumbling to her shoulders and disappearing down her back. And there was a sweet frown of concern troubling her brow.

“Can you open your eyes and at least show me you’re all right?”

Chad lay quiet and unresponsive. She touched his hand and it was warm and still. He couldn’t spoil this moment. He refused to open his eyes or his mouth and ruin what was for once a lovely relationship between them.

“You’ve been a fool,” she muttered to his sleeping face, “l’ve let him hurt you when you could have prevented it.” Still there was no sound or movement. She gave a deep sigh. The injury, the many heavy drinks—it was no wonder he slept so soundly.

“Do you know what life with you has become, Chadwick?” She looked at his peaceful face and sighed heavily. “Life with you is one long series of contradictions. You warn me for my safety and then tell me you don’t care what I do. You promise never to duel over me, and then kill a man for even intimating desire for me. You tell me the day will come when business is done and you will tie yourself to a marriage, yet you make no effort to secure that day.”

The deep, even breathing from her husband was his only response. Chad had physical reason to be this exhausted, but Chelynne’s tired body cried out for rest only from the emotional tensions of the day. She had seen a little too much now to go back to that quiet and naive young virgin who had offered herself so trustingly into this marriage. A great many things had passed between Chelynne and her husband and precious few of them had been pleasant.

“I once longed for love,” she said to her sleeping husband, her voice soft as a whisper. “But I only fear it now.” There was a long pause and then she went on decidedly, though quietly, to explain to this man some things that she would lack the courage to say if he were in an alert state. “We have reached a barrier, I think, that will either be impossible to pass...or will be the starting point for a new relationship between us.

“It has been a most painful thing, loving you. I can’t count the number of pleasurable moments, there haven’t been enough of them to recall. And hating you, it’s so senseless, so futile.”

Bestel had been sent on some errands following the duel and was only now returning to see to Chad. The door to the bedchamber was ajar and he heard the soft voice from within. Assuming Chad was in a conversation with his young wife, he paused before entering.

“You have so much and yet seem to be such an unhappy man. Is it a painful past that plagues you? Conflict with your father that was never resolved? I can understand some of that now, truly. You see, I waited for love, the idea of how it would feel firm in my mind. Now I have learned the truth to it. It is a fantasy for young hearts; there is truly no such emotion. My uncle does not love my aunt, the king does not love the queen, there is none of that for anyone. Desire that was once an honest and beautiful thing is now disgusting in my eyes. Now that even that has been destroyed...even that...what more is there?”

Bestel made a move to knock or creep away, but the voice came again from inside that room and he was frozen. He could do nothing but listen. “There is no choice, Chad. I have no place to go. I would not shame Sheldon and flee to him. From now I suppose it will be as you wished it, we simply exist, feeling nothing, showing nothing, sharing nothing. I will wonder as I rise in the mornings if this is the day you hold me, or lash out at me in anger. I never know if we will dance in harmony or duel with hostile words. I will wonder, husband mine, as in the past, but no more will I pursue you. No more will I cry.”

Bestel knocked quickly, unable to bear much more of this eavesdropping himself.

“Yes,” came her quick response.

“My lady? Might I see to ‘Is Lordship now?”

“Of course. Were you aware that he was injured? Were you the one who tended him?”

“Aye, mum.” He nodded.

“Well, it’s worsened and I mended it as I could.” She gave a soft, embarrassed laugh. “I’m not accustomed to that fabric type but it will do.”

“You’ve sewn it?” Bestel asked, shocked.

There was a quick but slight movement from the bed and Bestel warily stole a glance in that direction. He had been with Chad through the worst of times, through wars, crises on his plantation, disasters on shipboard. He had been shot through the stomach, stabbed more often, fallen from horses —yet he had never lost his consciousness completely. Chelynne did not notice the movement. She simply shrugged. “ ‘Twas a necessity.”

“Aye, mum.”

“I’ll look in on him in the morning, then, if you’ll stay with him now. I’m so tired I could sleep in the chair, but would prefer a bed.”

“Aye, mum. Don’t worry fer ‘im, mum. I’ll see to ‘im now.”

She nodded, placed a light kiss on her husband’s brow, and left the room. Bestel stood and looked down at His Lordship’s sleeping face and saw a slow, almost imperceptible smile grow there.

“Aye, the little mum was dishonored, right enough, but not by Master John.” A faint frown replaced the smile, as though the man were troubled in his sleep by a fleeting thought. He made no other movement.

Chelynne went to her room, blowing out the candles on her way, and she found her own private resting place had been cleared by her servants so she could sleep.

She was so tired that her resolution to spend the rest of her life void of feeling seemed an easy endeavor. She even found some comfort in it.

She slipped out of the dressing gown and into bed, sleep greeting her immediately as she closed her eyes. In her dreams, gentle hands soothingly crept over her body as fiery lips teased her. Pleasure tingled within her again and when she looked into the face of this delightful lover...it was Chad.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Chelynne had hoped the morning would come and give her strength in her new resolve. She was wrong. The same worry and fretfulness encompassed her, the same feeling of depression was there. She bravely disregarded it and found comfort in her routine. She bathed, dressed, and breakfasted. Then she took herself to her husband’s room to see to his well-being.

She saw what she had expected to see in his bedchamber. He was up and dressed, drinking his coffee. The only sign of his injury was the linen sling that supported his injured arm. There were no lines of tension on his face, no shadows of fatigue. He was refreshed and once again in control of his situation and his surroundings. It was the image of him she had had since their first encounter. He was a warring machine, never troubled or confused, never flustered or pained. An injury that had brought him to his knees the night before had been tended, and with the aid of a brandy and a few hours’ rest he was completely mended and revitalized. He could be weakened temporarily, but he could not be disadvantaged for long. He was like a jungle beast, a man whose challenges and beatings only made him stronger and more determined. So how could a mere girl, a woman child, expect to affect him very much? How could she have thought to tempt him, gain his affection, be of any real importance to him? Is that not what a woman really wants when she seeks love? To dominate a man’s heart, if not his mind and soul? So she had thought, unconsciously, to do. To dominate at least a part of him, of his life. But no more. He could not feel. She would have more promise of success in trying to collect a wild boar from the forest and keep him as a pet in her house.

“You’re looking fit, my lord,” she said.

“I’m feeling well enough. I commend you for your fine stitchery. It does not pain me much.”

“Good, then. Might I ask you something of...of a delicate nature?”

“Of course.” He nodded, businesslike.

“Will you be attending the burial of Sir John?”

His brow creased into a frown and he muttered under his breath. “I think not.”

“Shall you be offended if I do?”

“I think the gossip should be sufficiently horrible without adding that to the tale. I would much prefer you pass that affair by.” He looked away from her for a moment and she remained silent. Looking back at her, he added, “I’m certain his body will be taken out of the city. His people were from the country.”

“Very well, I thought only to have your opinion on the matter.”

“Regardless of what you might think, my dear, I do not take the incident lightly. Killing has no appeal for me, even with just cause. And especially one such as Sir John, who was a friend of mine. I would have much preferred another course.”

“I know that he insisted,” she murmured. “I cannot fathom the reason.”

“It is of a bitterness you couldn’t understand. He’s had much misfortune in his time and has come to resent anyone of the noble class. I knew him at a time when he did not do such dramatic things, when he had a good head for sense.”

“Sound reason,” she mumbled as the memory stirred.

“My dear?”

“Nothing, my lord. What more might come of this, Chadwick? Shall you suffer ill from the duel? Will there be a harsh penalty?”