In the Garden of Deceit (Book 4) (7 page)

A
light rain was falling, more mist than droplets. The air was heavy
with the scent of moisture, and swirling black clouds moved quickly
across the sky, promising a deluge—a dreary, soulless day that
mimicked her emotions completely.

James
opened the carriage door and helped Amanda climb inside. He turned to
his father-in-law, and the two men shook hands.

“Take
care of her, my lord,” Archie said.

“I
promise.”

They
shared a meaningful look, and Amanda felt a rising impatience related
directly to their original plotting against her. Their silent
communication left her feeling excluded once again. Perhaps she was
being unreasonable, but it hardly mattered. Hostile and out of sorts,
she turned a jaded eye on her husband as he entered the carriage.

Amanda
glanced out the window. Her father still stood on the walk and
suddenly she saw an old, tired man. He looked deflated and alone and
strangely unsure of himself. His sad figure brought a tear to her
eye, but she ruthlessly brushed it and her sympathy aside. If he were
regretting how they had parted, then he had only himself to blame.

As
the vehicle rolled into the lane, however, a desire to turn back
filled her with misgiving. It took all her commitment to her injured
pride to keep from asking James to stop the carriage. She wasn’t
ready to forgive. Both she and her father must accept that.

***

CHAPTER
5

They
rode for the next thirty minutes without speaking. Amanda chanced a
peek at James and found him watching her moodily. There was an
indolent quality to his posture, arms folded casually over his chest,
not reflected in his penetrating blue eyes. Her stomach dropped.
Secluded in a large townhouse with her husband was one thing, alone
with him in the closed quarters of a traveling carriage was something
else entirely.

“Yes?”
she managed after a moment.

“I
find the silence hurts my ears.”

“It
does? You are welcome to speak if that is what you want. I hadn’t
yet thought of anything to say.”

“I
see. Am I the only one who feels we have much to discuss? We’ve
avoided what lies between us since the wedding, Amanda. I think it’s
time to brave it out.”

“Perhaps
you would like to open the discussion,” she said tightly,
“since I haven’t a clue where to begin.”

“What
I would like,
really
like, is to pretend nothing has happened,
that Derrick did not fill your mind with poison, and you do not
believe the very worst of me. Is that possible?”

“You
ask too much.”

James
sighed. “I ‘spose so.”

“But
it seems that is what you believe I ought to do.”

“It
would be the practical course,” he agreed.

“Really?
What would you do in my place?”

For
a moment he looked startled. “Point taken,” he said
softly. “But I think you have identified where we should
begin.”

“I
have?”

“Tell
me my sins with no holding back, and I will address them to the best
of my ability. Then I will tell you what I would do in your place.”

“For
heaven’s sake, you make it sound as if we are striking a
bargain. It’s not as if you aren’t biased. Can I really
expect a fair answer?”

“Think
of it as a game then. If we solve nothing, what have we lost?”

Amanda
humphed, pulling at her skirts while she thought. She had already
decided what she wanted to do, how
she
was going to handle the
situation. Just like a man to take over and change the rules.
Unfortunately, she was curious.

“Oh,
all right. Only one sin but it’s a very bad one,” she
said primly.

James
leaned his head back, staring at her through half-lidded eyes. “Go
on.”

“You
should have told me about your straitened circumstances, and I should
have been given the opportunity to decide whether or not I wanted to
be part of resurrecting them.”

“True.”

Simple
as that he agreed with her. With one word he had taken the wind from
her sails. Was he being honest or merely humoring her?

“If
you believe that—”

James
came forward in his seat. “Archie Campbell is a difficult man
to say no to. Your father felt you would turn me down. I should not
have listened to him.”

“You
know this makes you a fortune hunter, don’t you?”

All
the hurt she had felt came rushing back, and Amanda had to clamp her
teeth to control the quivering of the muscles in her face. She hadn’t
mentioned what hurt most of all. She had thought he loved her. As she
loved him. Realizing that their marriage was essentially a sham was
torment to bear.

“A
fortune hunter,” James said slowly. “That’s a
lowering thought.”

“I
should think so. Now, it’s your turn. What would you do if
suddenly you discovered that I married you because of, oh say, your
title?”

He
smiled wryly. “Not my fortune?”

“It
seems unfair to present a scenario you can’t identify with.
We’ll adhere to something you understand.”

“Aiming
for something vital, my dear?”

“Do
you object?”

James
shrugged, a smirk still playing about his mouth. “Marrying me
for my title, eh? Hardly a novel idea. Men of rank have been fielding
such proposals since forever. It wouldn’t surprise me at all.”

“Even
if,” she swallowed over a lump in her throat, “I had made
you believe that I had married you for another reason?”

He
glanced away, and Amanda attributed his sudden unease to a guilty
conscience. It was as she had thought. James had married her out of
necessity, nothing more.

“You
are ending the game?” she asked with false brightness. “Seems
it’s only amusing when I’m the one who feels
uncomfortable.”

His
gaze shot back to hers, blue eyes narrowing, taking her measure.
“We’re not going to get through this thing easily, are
we?”

Unable
to maintain the pretense any longer, Amanda wanted to cry. She wanted
to lean her head on his shoulder and weep her pain and beg him to
ease her misery. But how could she take comfort from him when he was
the source of that pain? the very reason this much awaited trip was
now a journey into an uncertain and frightening future.

She
made a small sound, a pitiful mewling that escaped her
unintentionally, and shifted away from him to look out the window.
The landscape blurred through her tears, colors washing together like
paints on a palette. She was embarrassed to have revealed so much.
With a monumental effort she stemmed the flow, slowly gaining control
of herself.

The
carriage rocked and James joined her on her seat.

She
turned to him, alarmed. “What are you doing?” she asked
shrilly.

“Manda,”
he said, his voice dropping intimately as he moved his hip next to
hers and placed his arm around her shoulders. “Talk to me.”

James
was so close, his face next to hers, warm breath dusting her cheek,
intense blue eyes boring into hers. She could smell his crisp linen
and the enticing masculine scent of shaving soap. His hand curled
around her neck, his thumb slipping into her hair. A longing so
intense took hold of her, for a moment she could only stare at him,
lips parting in wonder.

His
gaze dropped to her mouth.

It
was a tentative kiss, contact that was almost no contact at all, back
and forth softly with just a hint of his tongue. Something inside her
melted, and despite her reservations she did not pull away.

Emboldened,
James deepened the kiss, easing her back on the seat as he did so,
gripping her hair gently. She could feel his fingers massaging her
scalp, and her entire body instantly pebbled with goose flesh.

He
eased his other hand beneath the jacket of her traveling gown,
feeling his way slowly.

“Stays,”
he murmured hotly. “Damn them!”

His
voice sounded far away, but vaguely she agreed with him.
Damn
them, indeed.

He
grasped her breast, rolling the soft flesh beneath his palm,
stimulating the tip until she could feel it pucker. His breathing
intensified, and he moved his mouth to her jaw and down her throat.

Amanda’s
contribution to the exercise was passive, too overcome by a sensual
lethargy that crept over her limbs but left every cell in her body
tense with expectation. She was back on her feather bed on the night
of her wedding, experiencing sensations completely and enticingly new
to her, flushed with excitement and the joy of being held by someone
she loved, someone who loved her…

Pain
like acid rained on her senses, all the more agonizing because she
was aroused. She wanted him to make love to her even now, even though
he had fooled her, most likely was fooling her again. How quickly he
had seduced her, brought her to the point of capitulating. Now whom
was she fooling? To the point of begging was more accurate.

A
sob caught in her throat, and she rolled away from him, falling to
the floor of the carriage. Her crinoline popped up exposing her
drawers.

“What
the hell did you do that for?” James gasped, his eyes bright
with lust.

He
reached for her, but Amanda scrambled off the floor and onto the seat
across from him.

“I’ll
not do it, do you hear?” she cried, pulling at her skirt.

“Why
not? We’ve put this off for two days. We are married, Amanda. I
want to make love to my wife.”

“I
don’t feel like your wife.”

“What
is that supposed to mean?” he barked.

Amanda
felt like wringing her hands. Instead she clasped them tightly in her
lap. All she wanted was to fling herself back into his arms and a let
him ease the burning ache that his lovemaking had started. But what
was she to do with the ache in her heart? If she gave in to him now,
she would never forgive herself. Her pride, what little was left of
it, was all she had.

“I
feel used and soiled because of it.”

“Used?”
He sounded incredulous. “Have I treated you with less than
respect?”

“Respect
is only a part of it, can’t you see that?”

“What
are you talking about? I know you’re angry with me—”

“If
only it were as simple as anger,” she whispered.

That
stopped him. “Then what are we to do?” he asked at last.

“I
need time…”

“The
longer we wait the more difficult it will be.”

Amanda
lifted one shoulder irritably. “It’s difficult for me
right now.”

“How
much time do you need?” Was that frustration in his voice?

“I
don’t know. Until I feel better about all this.”

For
a long while he merely watched her and, as the moments ticked by, her
heart began to thump erratically. He was angry, that much she sensed.

“A
marriage is a contract,” he said. “And the marriage bed
is part of that contract. I am fair to have certain expectations.”

“Since
when did fair begin to matter?” Only when it pertained to him,
it seemed. Now she was angry, also.

“I
want children, Amanda.”

Amanda
averted her gaze, annoyed that the mention of children made her
blush. She wanted to tell him that she didn’t give a fig what
he wanted, but that was not entirely true. She did care, and they did
have a contract. Strange how an impersonal business agreement could
have such intimate conditions.

“I
was not speaking of forever, James. I simply wanted to come to terms
with this union, to align my expectations to reality, before…”

James
leaned back against the squabs, his expression turning mulish. “So
we are to put our lives on hold until you decide to decide?”

She
had hoped it wouldn’t come to this, that he wouldn’t push
her when she wasn’t ready. So be it. She would dredge up her
little plan and see if her cooperation was worth the price.

“Since
you are adamant, waiting won’t be necessary. However, ah,”
Amanda stumbled, the words like lead in her throat now that it was
time to say them, “I’ll not be participating in
any…significant way.”

“Are
you saying what I think you are saying?” he bit out.

“There’s
only so much of me you can demand, James. You can’t make me
respond. The contract says I have to warm your bed, but it doesn’t
say I have to like it.”

“Is
that so?” James said cynically. “Seems to me you were
responding only minutes ago and liking it just fine.”

Amanda
felt the blood surge to her face. “It won’t happen again,
I promise.”

“What
is wrong with you, woman? I’d be a fool to agree to such
nonsense.”

“Those
are the terms for my cooperation.”

“And
if I don’t agree?”

“Then
perhaps it would be best if I went home and ended this farce before
there is no turning back.”

Even
as she spoke Amanda feared his answer, whether he said yes or no. Yes
meant he cared for her not at all, and no meant he had too much to
lose—financially speaking. She held her breath as he digested
her ultimatum.

“We
are not giving up so easily, Amanda,” he said darkly. “I
am not a shirker and, I suspect, neither are you. To quit before
we’ve even begun seems cowardly at best.”

The
air she was holding whooshed from her mouth in a gust of relief—and
misery. It
was
the money. But as long as he took her with him,
she had hope. Hope that one day he would love her, hope that he would
not regret being saddled with a wife not of his own choosing. Perhaps
he might even forget to be ashamed of her pedigree.

“I’ve
decided not to press you,” James continued.

“Thank
you. I—”

“But,”
he put up his hand to stem her gratitude, “I reserve the right
to change my mind.”

“Pardon?”

“Your
‘I need time’ pronouncement is rather undefined. Doesn’t
give me much to work with, makes no promises. So…” he
prolonged the agony of waiting, his gaze now hard and inscrutable, “I
propose to take this thing a day at a time. If tomorrow I decide to
accept your offer, you will of course oblige me, correct? No feminine
hysterics or reneging?”