Heartless (31 page)

He stared his sister straight in the eye. “Ariel is soon to become the next Countess of Greville.”

Barbara's expression turned feral, her lips stretching into a tight, ruthless smile. “And just when is this momentous occasion supposed to occur?”

“We'll be married by special license as soon as I can arrange it.” He glanced at Ariel, and for the second time in the span of minutes, a look appeared that she had never seen. With a sudden burst of clarity she realized it was hope, the sight so unexpected and so utterly endearing it made a thick lump rise in her throat.

“In the meantime,” he said, returning his attention to his sister, “I presume you have our rooms prepared.”

She cast a glance up the stairs. “I've had the bedchamber adjoining yours made ready. I didn't realize you would be wanting more proper accommodations.”

His jaw tightened, but he made no further comment. Instead, he turned to a footman who stood near the door. “See to the bags, if you please. The lady is undoubtedly tired and in need of a rest. I should like to see my nephew; then I believe I shall also retire for a while before supper.”

“Aye, milord.” The young blond footman hastened to do the earl's bidding.

Ariel followed the butler up the stairs. The door to the room stood open and a chambermaid busily finished setting the bedchamber in order. As bright and lovely as the rest of the house, it overlooked the lavish formal gardens at the rear. It was done in shades of cream and rose satin, with beautiful silk damask curtains at the windows and an ornately carved rosewood bed on a dais against one wall. Ariel waited for her trunks to arrive, garments she had left at Justin's house the day he sent her away, and they appeared a few moments later.

Silvie arrived with them, having ridden in the second carriage with the footmen and the luggage. She helped Ariel out of her dusty, travel-stained clothes and into her quilted blue wrapper. While Silvie unpacked her clothes, Ariel wearily sat down in a chair before the fire.

Good heavens, what have I done?
Though the room was warm, a tremor ran through her. Everything had happened so quickly. Justin had told his sister that they were to marry. Wordlessly—insanely—Ariel had agreed. Dear God, she must have been mad, completely out of her head!

A memory of his face arose, but the image held none of the yearning, the terrible need she had seen. What if it were only her imagination? What if they wed and she discovered he was indeed the cold, heartless man he had seemed?

She needed to talk to him, needed to know what he was thinking. She needed to reassure herself she was doing the right thing.

Crossing the bedchamber, she sat down at the antique French writing desk in the corner and penned a brief message, asking him to meet her at seven o'clock that evening in the garden. Then she handed the note to Silvie and asked her to deliver it to the earl. Bobbing a quick curtsy, Silvie left to find him, and Ariel climbed wearily up on the bed. A little rest and surely she'd be able to think more clearly.

But two hours later, she was still awake, her thoughts just as muddled as they were when she lay down to sleep.

*   *   *

Barbara paced back and forth in front of the marble-manteled hearth in her elegant suite of rooms. The master suite. The lord's bedchamber. The rooms Barbara had usurped since she moved back into the house after her husband died. With their rich royal blue and silver decor, they were the most elegant rooms in the house. Why shouldn't she use them? Justin never came to Greville Hall, and the one time he had, he'd been perfectly content to use the smaller suite of rooms he now occupied down the hall.

Barbara paced to the window and made another turn, her ruby velvet gown flaring out, the muscles in her shoulders aching with tension.
By rights the rooms should belong to Thomas.
Since the boy, not her father's callous bastard son, should have been the heir.

The thought brought an image of that devil-in-the-flesh, her cold, black-hearted brother, and a fresh wave of fury broke over her. How dare he calmly arrive at her house and announce he would marry his latest whore! How dare he! For years, he had sworn he would never wed. He had no use for a wife and children, he'd said. He simply wasn't the sort.

And fool that she was, she had believed him. She'd been certain that in time her son would inherit. She had mistakenly thought she had plenty of time to hasten that outcome along. Now, having seen the way her half brother looked at Ariel Summers, as if she were a glorious banquet on which he intended to feast, she had no doubt he would rut with the wench until he got her with child, and virile as he was, likely it would be a son.

A boy who would inherit the Greville title and fortune that should have belonged to Thomas.

Barbara whirled toward the hearth and her fist slammed down on the mantel. She needed to see Phillip again, to tell him this latest turn of events and discuss what they should do. She would send him a message, set up a meeting at the inn in the village.

For the first time since her brother's arrival, she smiled.

Perhaps having Justin and his whore in the house was a blessing rather than a curse. She would know his plans, his whereabouts, for as long as he remained. And out here in the country, anything could happen. Shooting accidents, an untimely fall from a horse, a deadly bout with tainted food. The possibilities were endless.

Calmer now, Barbara sat down at her desk and scratched out a message. She would see it delivered this very day, get word to Phillip and move up the timetable on their plan. For the first time, it occurred to her that perhaps Justin's little whore was already with child, that perhaps that was the reason he'd decided to marry her. If she was, Barbara would soon find out.

Justin would be dealt with and, if a child was forthcoming, so would his little whore.

*   *   *

Justin strolled along the paths in the garden. It was lovely here, he conceded, even in mid-November. Winding gravel walkways lit by flickering torches. Perfectly manicured hedgerows forming graceful patterns in the lawns. An old-fashioned maze loomed in the distance, topiary sculptures of birds set to guard the entrance.

Making his way to the marble fountain that bubbled in the center of the garden, he sat down on one of the curved marble benches that encircled it. He was early for his meeting with Ariel. He straightened the cuffs on his shirt and fiddled with the knot of his cravat.

He'd hoped to use the extra time to consider what he would say to her when she arrived, but so far nothing had come to him. He wasn't sure why she had sent the message. He wasn't even certain she had actually agreed to the marriage. Perhaps she simply wished to stifle his sister's venomous tongue, if only for a while.

Justin sat there in the darkness and one of her letters came to mind:

There is great excitement at school today. Cynthia Widmark, one of my classmates, is going to be married! Though she has known the young man for a number of years, until recently her parents believed she was too young to wed. They have relented, it seems, and agreed to a betrothal. Cynthia is gloriously happy. I can only imagine how wonderful it must feel to fall in love, marry, and have a family. I wonder if I shall ever be as fortunate as she.

Justin thought of the letter and wondered if Ariel would ever consider herself fortunate to be married to him. She had once said that she loved him. He wondered if, back then, it was actually true. Or perhaps she had said it merely to dissuade Phillip Marlin. He tried to think what woman had ever loved him. Not Margaret, for certain. Not his mother, at least not enough to keep her from leaving and never coming back. Perhaps his grandmother, but that had been so long ago he couldn't quite recall.

Justin glanced back toward the house, searching the empty walkways for Ariel. It was quiet in the garden, except for the crackle of the burning torches and the patter of the fountain. It was chilly out here in the dark, the night crisp and clear, the stars winking like jewels in the blackness overhead. He hoped she would remember to bring a shawl.

Footsteps crunching lightly on gravel brought him to his feet, nervous now, growing more uncertain. God's blood, what should he say?

“Justin…?”

“I'm here … by the fountain.” She turned and walked toward him, her expression as uncertain as his own. For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then they both tried to talk at once and again nervously fell silent.

“I'm not exactly certain where to begin,” Ariel finally said, looking up at him. “Did you mean what you told your sister?”

“You must know that I did.”

“Why? Why would you want to marry me?”

He wasn't sure how to answer, wasn't certain he knew the answer himself. “It's past time that I married.” As good a reason as any he could think of. “I'm in need of a wife. You're in need of a husband, or at least someone to look after you. It would seem the answer to both of our problems.”

“You said you weren't the sort for marriage.”

“Perhaps that's what I thought … at the time. But life goes on; people change. You asked me once if I planned to have children. I hadn't thought to do so, but perhaps I was too hasty. Now, I think I should like to have children very much.”
As long as they would be your children, as well.

“I see.”

But she didn't sound overjoyed at the prospect. Maybe he hadn't explained things clearly enough. “I've seen you with Thomas. I know you like children. I believe you would make a very good mother. In return, I can give you what you've always wanted. You'll be a countess, Ariel. Lady Greville. You'll have money, a position in society. No one will ever be able to hurt you again.”

Ariel turned away from him, moved off toward the fountain, skimmed a finger across the cold, shadowy surface of the water. “If we are to have children, you must intend to spend time in my bed. If that is the case—”

“I want you, Ariel. I always have. I don't intend for this marriage to be in name only.”

Seconds ticked past. “I won't lie to you, Justin. I'm frightened. I trusted you before. I'm terrified to do it again.”

Regret settled over him like a damp winter mist. Walking to where she stood, he caught her chin between his fingers and slowly turned her to face him. “I can't undo the past. I can only promise that nothing of the sort will ever happen again.”

Her eyes, so blue in the light of the torches, scanned every line of his face. “Do you love me, Justin? Even the tiniest bit?”

A tight band squeezed around his chest. He wished he could say the words she wanted to hear, ached to make her girlish dreams come true, but he didn't know the first thing about loving someone, and he would never lie to her again.

“I care for you, Ariel. More than I ever believed I could. But love…? Love is something I know nothing about. In truth, I don't believe I am capable of such a feeling. I can only tell you that I'll take care of you, provide for our children. And I'll do my very best to make you happy.”

She worried her bottom lip. “I don't … I don't know.”

The words tore through him. The tightness around his chest contracted until it was hard to breathe. “Let me take care of you, provide for you as you deserve. Please, Ariel.”
I need you.
“Say you'll be my wife.”

She gazed into his face and he wondered what she read there, what secrets the harsh lines and shadows revealed. Whatever it was, tears glittered for an instant in her eyes. “I'll marry you, Justin.”

He hadn't meant to kiss her. He simply looked into that beautiful teary gaze and couldn't stop himself. Framing her face in his hands, he captured her trembling lips and kissed her with all the longing he had known since he sent her away. Regret for his betrayal mingled with the knowledge that she would soon be his, and his need for her built. Hunger rose with it, like a fire erupting in his blood.

For an instant he allowed his passion free rein, pulling her into his arms, kissing her deeply, feeling her slim fingers digging into his shoulders. He was hard and aching, his arousal throbbing to be inside her. He kissed her a moment more, then tore himself away, ending the moment before he went too far, before he did something else that he would regret.

A shudder rippled through him as he fought to regain control. His chest rose and fell as if he'd run a winning race. “I think it would be best if you went in,” he said softly. “If you don't, I'm afraid I shall be tempted to break the promise I made when we came here.”

Ariel looked up at him, her face flushed, her lips still moist from his kiss. He saw the uncertainty in her eyes and he hated himself for it. He lifted a hand to her cheek, touched her feather-lightly.

With a last worried smile, she turned and hurried back toward the house.

Justin watched her go, fighting the desire that still burned in his blood. For the past few days he'd been able to control it. Now that she had agreed to marry him, it tore through his body like the claws of a ravenous beast.

Lust was a familiar emotion.

It was the tenderness he felt as he watched her disappear inside the house that amazed him. For a moment, he didn't even realize what it was.

Wearily he sank down on the bench, rubbing the back of his neck, trying to sort out his thoughts. Earlier he'd sent word to his solicitor, asking him to arrange for a special license. In a few short days, he would be wed.

He stared down at his hand, flexed his fingers, felt the muscles tighten in his forearms. Over the years, he had kept himself physically strong and mentally tough. He'd taught himself to be fearless, then used that fearlessness to earn his fortune and make his own way.

Now as he looked toward a future that included marriage and, in time, perhaps even children, he discovered a rising terror unlike anything he had ever known. In truth, he had never been more frightened than he was at that moment, sitting alone in the shadows of the gardens, thinking about the strange turn of fate that had brought him to this unexpected moment in his life.