Dangerous to Love (25 page)

He breathed deeply. “You told me once that you experienced only disgust and loathing when I made love to you. You implied that I had taken you by force. Does this feel like disgust and loathing, Serena?” He flexed his fingers deep inside her. “Does this feel as though I am forcing you?”

She blinked at him like a sleepy kitten coming awake. Though her body was in an agony of suspense for the completion that only he could give her, she sensed something behind the harsh words that roused her from her inertia. Those careless words she had uttered in anger had made a deep impression on him. They had done more than that. They had cut him to the quick.

Moving closer, she kissed him lingeringly. “I lied,” she murmured against his lips. “You have never forced yourself on me. I never thought of you with disgust and loathing,
never.
I was ashamed of what you made me feel.”

“But why should you be ashamed?”

“You were a stranger. I thought that no decent woman
would feel the way you made me feel. So I blamed you for it. Can you ever forgive me?”

A shudder passed over him then another. His eyes closed. “I have been in purgatory. I didn’t know .  .  . I could not be sure.” Teeth gritted, he said, “Your opinion of me could not have been lower than my own.”

“Oh Julian, I’m so sorry. What can I say? If only there was something I could do to make it up to you.”

His eyes opened wide. “Oh, there is,” he said savagely, and reached for her.

   Julian’s men found them at first light. Having slept for only an hour or two, Serena was not at her radiant best. She slapped Julian’s hands away when he tried to waken her. Those hands were ruthless, insistent, hauling her upright, dressing her when all she wanted was to sink into sleep. Those hands took liberties that in her saner moments would have outraged her modesty. She was aware that they had slipped beneath her bodice to knead her bare breasts. Those delicious feelings were beginning to steal over her again. It was lovely.

“Damn! I can’t get enough of you.”

She pouted when he withdrew his hands, but she made no verbal protest. With a little sigh, she cushioned her head on his broad chest. In the next instant, she was shaken rudely awake.

“I found this on the floor. Would you mind explaining how our marriage certificate came to be in your possession, and what you intended to do with it?”

It was his tone of voice that made her thoughts focus. Staring at the piece of paper he waved under her nose, she shrugged helplessly. “What does it matter now? Our marriage is a real one, isn’t it, Julian?”

“It most certainly is.” He folded the parchment and pocketed it. “I think it’s wiser if I hold on to this.”

“Fine,” she said, and closed her eyes.

“Serena!” Laughter with a touch of impatience edged his voice. “It’s time to be on our way. Now go and do whatever is necessary to make a lady comfortable before we embark in our waiting carriage.”

When she came out of the privy he had led her to, she stood uncertainly, swaying on her feet. Julian’s arms went about her, enveloping her in his warm cloak. Laughing, he kissed the pout from her lips then lifted her high against his chest.

In the coach, he watched her eyelids grow heavy the moment before her eyes lost focus and her eyelashes fluttered down, shutting him out. He had done this to her, worn her out with his voracious demands in a long night of loving. Far from chastening him, the thought made him smile.

It was the irony which amused him. He’d always thought of himself as a virile, passionate man, with a healthy sexual appetite. Serena had taught him a thing or two. He had learned that all these years he hadn’t understood what passion was. With the right woman, with Serena, his sexual appetite was insatiable. He couldn’t get enough of her, couldn’t stop touching her, couldn’t stop wanting her. It had never been like this before, and if there had only been more time, he was quite sure he would have taken her here, in the coach. And she would let him! That was the thought that kept his body hard with need. One touch from him and his little prude turned wanton.

He had asked for one day, just for themselves. He was bound and determined that one day would stretch into years. He’d made a beginning. It was entirely possible that he had fathered his child on her, and even if he had not, he knew how to get around Serena. He would chain her to him with the powerful sexual magnetism that he
had proved existed between them. She might not like it; she might try to resist it; but he was more experienced than she. If it became necessary, he would not hesitate to use his experience against her.

It was inevitable that once she knew the truth about him, her trust would suffer a setback. Whether or not she would choose her own father over him was only of academic interest. She was his wife. His claims would be upheld in every court in the land. She would never escape him.

He wasn’t a cold-blooded monster, Julian assured himself. He had almost made up his mind that Sir Robert’s punishment would not be made to last forever. In due course, for Serena’s sake, he would rescue him, but not before Sir Robert feared the worst, not before he’d had a taste of his own medicine. There could, of course, be no reconciliation. There could never be anything but hatred between Sir Robert and himself. Once the truth was out, he would carry Serena off to some far place where they could make a fresh start, out of her father’s sphere of influence.

From there, his thoughts shifted to the attack that had taken place the night before. He didn’t know what to make of it, but in the cold light of day, his conviction that Serena might have had something to do with it wavered.

He shifted her in his arms so that her head lolled back on his shoulder. She nestled against him trustingly, with the innocence of a child. He was still gazing at her reflectively when the coach pulled up outside the door of his house.

   Julian left Serena sleeping like a babe while he went to check on his injured groom. Satisfied that he was progressing as well as could be expected, Julian had his
housekeeper prepare breakfast for himself and serve it in the bookroom.

Not long after, the courier arrived from his gaming house with a full and detailed account from Blackie, Julian’s second-in-command, of the night’s takings. This time he had something for the courier to
give
to Blackie.

His marriage certificate was in a very sorry state. One corner was torn and there were several watermarks scattered over it. He grinned, thinking that it was too soon to say whether Serena would awaken in a temper and tear the house apart looking for this innocuous piece of parchment, or whether she would awaken reconciled to her fate.

Making an envelope of a page of vellum, he slipped the marriage certificate inside and closed the package with melted wax which he imprinted with his own seal.

“Give this to Mr. Black and tell him to deposit it in the safe,” he told the courier. Morland, the courier, had undertaken many such commissions for Julian, and Julian had complete confidence in him. The same could be said for his confidence in Blackie. He would do exactly as Julian asked him to do and no questions asked.

Thinking of the attack of the night before, Julian sent two of his grooms with Morland as armed escorts. Not that he expected trouble in broad daylight. He had yet to report the attack to the local authorities. This he was reluctant to do until he had questioned Serena on her part in things.

Wandering upstairs some time later, he entered Serena’s bedchamber. She was still sleeping like a babe. He traced a finger over her lips. Had she had something to do with the attack on him last night? What he refused to believe was that she had meant to do him serious injury.

There would be no plotting against him from now on. She was his wife, and her first loyalty was to him. Damn loyalty! He wanted more from her than that.

Serena awakened with the throb of desire beating hotly in her blood. She had a flash of awareness, then all her senses focused on Julian’s hands as they roused her to passion. She sobbed his name, then gasped on a wave of pleasure as he entered her. Surging wildly, clinging to him, she went spinning into the void.

   She jerked up from the pillows on a jolt of alarm. Some noise had startled her into wakefulness, something that made the fine hairs on her nape stand on end. Her eyes darted around the room, trying to get a grip on things. She was alone in her bed; darkness had fallen and the only light came from a lone candle on the mantelpiece.

There came a thud, and the sound of breaking glass followed by a shout that was abruptly cut off. Swiftly rising, she reached for her dressing robe and slipped into it, then, snatching up the silver candlestick, shielding the flame with one hand, she rushed from the room.

At the turn in the stairs, she halted. The great hall was ablaze with lights. Several soldiers in red coats were hustling a man out the door. Others were helping comrades who were sprawled on the floor, as though they had taken a beating. The Forrests were off to one side, Mrs. Forrest clasped in her husband’s arms. The scene was ghastly and like something out of a stage performance or a nightmare.

The man who was flanked by two militiamen moaned and made a feeble attempt to shake them off. “Julian!” Serena cried out, and quickly depositing her candle on a table, she started forward.

At the sound of her voice, men turned to stare at her. It was then that she saw that Julian was manacled. His head was bowed, and one arm of his white lawn shirt had been practically torn off.

“Julian!”

She came to within a pace of him when one of the
militiamen raised his pistol and ordered her to stand back. Julian lifted his head and she flinched from what she saw there. Blood dripped from a cut on his lip. Murder was in his eyes.

“Bitch!” he snarled at her. “Scheming bitch!”

Serena fell back a step. Frozen in shock, she stood there staring as the soldiers turned to leave, dragging Julian with them. Then, panic-stricken, she went after them.

Outside, all was in shadow, but she could make out the shapes of horses and riders.

“Wait!” she called out as men mounted up. “What has he done? Where are you taking him?”

It was Julian’s voice, malevolent and ghostly, that came to her out of the shadows. “I promise you, you haven’t seen the last of me! And when we do meet up again, you’ll rue—”

There was a soft thud, and his voice suddenly died. Terror-struck, she bolted forward, only to be dragged back by strong hands on her shoulders. Like a wild thing, she fought to free herself.

“There, there, lass!” Mr. Forrest’s grip tightened. “It’s a misunderstanding. It must be.”

“But .  .  . what do they want with him?”

“They say he’s a Jacobite conspirator. They say that someone informed against him, can you believe that? Time enough in the morning to get hold of a barrister and see what’s to be done. No, don’t make a scene. It will only go worse for the major. You know I speak the truth.”

“Julian,” she whispered brokenly as men and riders cantered into the gloom. “Oh Julian,” and she fought to throw off the horrible intuition that the one day he had asked for was all that they would be allowed.

T
here was no sleep for Serena that night. She was burning with impatience for dawn to break so that she could set things in motion to have Julian released. It was a misunderstanding or a case of mistaken identity. Over and over, she repeated those words, trying to take comfort from them.

The first thing to be done was to find out where the militia had taken him. Mr. Forrest’s opinion was that they would have lodged him in one of the big London prisons, perhaps Newgate or the Fleet. His wife did not think so. There was a roundhouse in Twickenham. It was her opinion that they had lodged Julian there, and, as she pointed out, it would be foolish to make the long journey to town without first applying to the local authorities.

At the crack of dawn, Serena set off for Twickenham with only a groom for escort. All her hopes were to be disappointed. With the exception of the sergeant on duty, the roundhouse was deserted. The justice of the peace to whom the sergeant referred her, and who was not pleased to be roused from his bed at so ungodly an hour, knew nothing of Julian or any warrant for his arrest, nor did he care.

She made the return journey to the house in a daze, and was jerked rudely to her senses when her escort, swearing violently, reached for her reins and hustled her off the path.

“What—”

“Look!”

Concealed by a thicket of undergrowth, Serena peered
through the wrought-iron fence. What she saw made her inhale sharply. Swarms of soldiers in their red tunics were rousting grooms and stable boys from their quarters, and Mr. and Mrs. Forrest were on the front steps arguing with a gentleman who appeared to be the officer in charge.

“If I was you,” said the groom, “I wouldn’t go back in there. I would get myself a very clever barrister, then I’d lie low and wait it out.”

Abruptly saluting her, the groom wheeled his mount and took off. Stunned, she watched him disappear around a bend in the path. It was obvious to her that he wasn’t making for the house.