Price of Desire (17 page)

Only once had she started
.
He’d called out, his voice coarse with
horror
and despair, his eyes staring sightless into the darkness
.
He’d jerked at her touch, not knowing her
.
The second brush of her hand had stilled him and he rolled away and slept
,
giving no clue of
whatever
demons
stalked him
through
the night.

Even in that moment
pulled from sleep, she had not been surprised to find him next to her, only longed to provide solace to the misery that held him
.

He’d used her, turned her own passion against her as he sought his answers and still she’d offered him comfort
.
But, that was not strictly true
.
She’d used him as well, taken the pleasure she’d dreamed of for so long.

She swung her legs over the side of the bed.

At least he was gone.

She was pleased that he was gone, that she
woul
d have this time to steady herself for the day and their inevitable confrontation
.

But her mind betrayed her
.
She fell back on the bed
.
She still could not forget the beauty of his sunlit smile on that other morning
,
when they
had awakened
wrapped in each other
’s
arms
.
She could not forget the magical bonding of that night, that morning
.
Two truly had become one
.
That had not been the case last night
.
Her arm flopped to the bed
.
How could she be so satisfied and
yet
still wanting
?

She stared at the
flowered
canopy of the bed and willed herself to reason, to think calmly, to understand how she had come to this
point,
and what she should do now
.
She traced each line of stitch
ing
with her eyes, imagined the tedium involved in planning the pattern, choosing the threads, executing the design
.
She focused solely on the work involved in each stitch
.
She refused to allow her mind to stray from the intricate
floral
motif spread above her bed.

Only when her mind had regained normalcy did she stand
.
The delicious ache between her thighs drew her attention, but she pretended she felt nothing
.
She went to the pitcher, and filling a basin, washed herself, before returning to pull her night
rail
back over her head
.
She purposely ignored the wrenched seams and the masculine scent that clung to it.

She strode to her desk and picked up her list
.
She
scanned
the
careful litany
of characteristics
desirable in
a husband, reminded herself firmly of what she sought, of what she could not afford to seek.

Passion was not on the list.

With Wulf she shared
only passion
.
Nothing more
.
Passion was wonderful
.
Blindingly so.

But she would not be blinded
.
She must not forget the coldness she had glimpsed in his eyes
.
The contempt
.
The separation
.
She must not hide from what it was she had seen.

Contempt.

Her eyes turned back to the bed, and the table beside it
.
The box that held his letter
.
That one cold dismissive letter he
ha
d sent a year ago, before departing for Belgium – it had come wrapped around a string of buttons, brass buttons cut from his regimentals
,
tied on a green ribbon
.
Even without opening the box and taking it out she knew it word
for
word.

My dear Lady,

She could hear his derision as she read the words.

Again, let me say how sorry I am for our country’s loss
.

Not her loss, the country’s.

I send this memento to your daughter as a token of my
             
esteem for her FATHER.

He obviously didn’t care for subtlety.

On your advice I have taken up my commission again
.
Your words made it clear I have no place here, no life but the battlefield
.
I shall soon
be gone, and
shall
trouble
you no
more
.

Huntington

In the first days after victory had been announced, but before the heavy lists of casualties had been read, afraid to tempt the fates, she’d finally given the ribbon of buttons
to Anna
.
Strangely, it had become one of her daughter’s favorite possessions
.
She’d had to replace the ribbon several times as it frayed and grew thin.

She recited the letter to herself one more time.

Yes – he held her in contempt
.
It expressed all he felt for her.

Well, perhaps not all;
there was
also
desire.

Desire for her, but also for Anna
.

He had seduced her to get his answer
.
A
n a
nswer she still denied him.

Once desire faded
,
he saw her only as a woman who had welcomed a stranger to her bed, a woman who had betrayed her husband, once in taking a lover and again in passing off her lover’s child as his own
.
He saw only the woman who would refuse him his child.

She would not let his hidden midnight pain weaken her resolve
.
She turned her face away from the bed, from the box.

She bit her lip, refusing to give in
to the tears that welled within her
.
What did it matter
?
Wulf meant nothing to her
.
Last night had proved the wonder of that other night a dream, a fantasy – her body might have known heaven, responded to his, clung to his, felt alone and bereft without him, but that was her body
.
She was much more than a body.

She was a soul and a mind.

And her soul had not found peace and paradise in their sweaty couplings
.
The illusion of oneness on that summer night had been just that, an illusion.

She had more than a woman could expect
to gain
–
indeed
,
much more than most women
dreamt of
–
her
freedom and independence
.
She would not risk it all for the sake of a man and a dream, a man who looked at her with ice in his eyes and a dream already tarnished at the edges
.
No, she would continue with her plan
.
She would find the perfect husband for her needs.

With chilled fingers she put her list back on the table and went to ring for her maid
.
A
hot cup of tea would warm her
body and soul.

She shut her eyes and willed today’s tears away
.
He’d cut her this night with his look of disbelief and hatred
.
She had paid for her sins before
.
She would not do so again.

The tap on the door announced the maid and with great relief she turned
away
from her thoughts to prepare for the coming day.

“Have you seen a copy of Choiseul-Gouffier’s
Voyage Pittoresque de la Grece
or Chevalier’s
Voyage dans La Troade, ou Tableau de la Plaine de Troie
?
I am sure they must be here, but I can’t find them.
”

Mitter
had
called from the study door as Wulf strode back into the house
.

Two hours of galloping recklessly through the fields had not even begun to still the beasts rampaging within him, the devils that
returned to
taunted him
, the dream of a home, his home – Holly House – and a family all turned to mud and blood and the cries of dying men – the canons firing all about
.

Focus.

“Perhaps Burberry was too ill by the time it was released
.
I understand he was bedridden for several years before his death
.
I know he had some much earlier maps of the area
.
My stepfather mentioned he’d picked them up during his travels.
”

Wulf brought his attention to the present
.
He had spent the last hours trying to avoid
thinking
of last night
without success
.
Maybe an academic problem was what he needed.

Mitter considered
.
“He has other more recent acquisitions
.
Given the breadth of his collection and his interest
,
I can’t believe he would have overlooked such important pieces
.
They coincide so brilliantly with his interest
.
Perhaps
,
I should ask Lady Burberry.
”

“Ah
,
yes, you’re right
, he would not have missed them
.
I doubt the lady would know
.
H
owever, I am sure her interests are lighter
.
”
Lady Burberry, Rose, she’d awakened the devils within him, loosed them again to ravage his mind
.
He would not remember how she’d
. .
.
Troy
.
The Dardanelles
.
Ancient myth and conquest
.
He’d become lost in history yesterday
.
He would
do so
again today
.

Wulf walked to the library door and glanced within
.
If anything
,
the piles of books and
out
spread maps seemed
more numerous and overwhelming
today, although he could see some
volumes
newly shelved
.
Mitter had begun to restore order to the mess.

“Let me change and rinse off, then I’ll come join you
.
My father was never much interested in the Greeks, that was always my . . . it doesn’t matter
.
Those are not volumes my father would care for
.
But you’re right, we’ll need to sort them just the same.”

Mitter’s eyes tightened slightly
.
Undoubtedly
,
he was not eager to add to the work load
.
He probably saw his task as only to separate the books they would be taking with them.

“I know it will make the process longer, but I can’t leave Burberry’s library in such a state
.
Lady Burberry may not care,” damn her anyway,
he’d fought so long for his dreamless peace,
“but I will consider it one last repayment to the
a
dmiral for the service he did us all.”

“As you say.
”
Mitter relaxed again at his words.

“It shouldn’t take long anyway
.
If we both put our minds to it I would think we should be able to finish by tomorrow.
”
God
,
yes, please let them be done
.
No ma
tter how great the lure of
his daughter, he could not afford the trap presented by the mother – last night had proved he could not master his own desires,
channel
them
to
his own purpose
.
She had reeled him in, distracted him,
opened his mind to the demons,
and left him . . . still wanting – he didn’t know what, only that he had not found it in the sweat of the previous night
.
The witch would probably never let him near the child anyway
.
Lady Burberry was everything he knew
he must
avoid in a woman
,
no matter the perfection of the packaging, and that startling awareness that flew between them
.
He would not fall . . . again
.