Price of Desire (32 page)

Anna’s blocks still resided in the corner next to the maps she’d been tracing
.
It probably wasn’t smart to leave them with her daughter, but so far the child seemed to be taking care of them
.
If she could survive in a nursery with crossed swords and pistols on the wall, Burberry had wanted to give her a sense of adventure despite her sex, then she could care for a couple of maps
.
It wasn’t like adults were any more careful, unde
rstood the importance of . . .

Damn
.
Her heart ached for Wulf
.
She knew many would rejoice at the hope of a title, but Wulf would only grieve for the loss of such a young life, his own
cousin
.
She hoped his absence from dinner did not mean he was overtaken by coming grief
.
It seemed out of character for him to be so deeply affected, but she didn’t know how else to understand Wulf’s strong reaction
.
Wimberly in talking of their possible departure had mentioned Wulf had not been back to
Whytehill
since the boy was born, surely he couldn’t be hurting too deeply.

But, Anna had reported he’d snuck into the nursery and squeezed her tight
.
He’d spoken barely a word, but held her as if he had no choice
.
Her daughter had been distressed by his behavior, unsure how to offer comfort
.
Anna had spilled the episode in her own confusion and added only to Rose’s own sorry state of mind
.
There was more here than had been revealed.

She would have liked to know more of Wulf’s story, but one did not question the Marquess of Wimberl
e
y
.
For all his youthful appearance one glance from those most pale of eyes and she’d held her words back
.
He’d done the same to others over dinner
.
He’d joke and keep the conversation lively, but he had only to turn his stare and conversation turned in the direction he desired
.
The company didn’t even seem aware he’d done it
.
She’d never seen the like
.
The dashing young man held surprising power.

She brushed her hand again along the soft fabric of the blanket, her fingers twining in the fringe
.

A crash of thunder startled her upright
.
No storm had been expected, but as roll upon roll of thunder trailed the lightning
that
sped across the sky the heavens themselves seemed to bellow with grief.

Nervous butterflies played in her belly as she rose, and, checking to make sure Anna still slept, made her way to the stair.

It was not her place to worry
.
What should a storm matter
?
She had denied Wulf all rights in her life, but she could not let it alone
.
Some deeply buried part of her demanded that she find him and offer comfort as needed
.

She slipped down the dark stairs, her tread ringing hollow in the still of the sleeping house
.
If his room was dark she’d go back
.
Surely all she needed was the reassurance that he slept, that Morpheus had offer
ed
elusive comfort, that he did not lie listening to the storm trapped in misery.

The cool night air brushed about her as she crept down the dark stair
.
The faintest of lights shone from beneath his door as she raised her hand and knocked.

Chapter
Eleven

There was no answer.

She pressed her ear against the door, but no sound came from within, only the echoing of thunder as another bolt of lightening lit the corridor.

She tapped again.

Again, there was no response.

She wrapped her fingers about the cool metal handle
.
Her heart beat so loudly she was surprised no one came running
.
She twisted the handle and it gave easily.

Not giving herself time to think she eased through the door and into the room
.
She slipped the door closed behind her.

The heavy scent of brandy and smoke met her nose
.
Normally she considered the combination pleasant, but here in the gloom of the single candle burning on the mantle it seemed to harken dread
.
At least the maids had straightened the room
.
She wondered if in his current state he even remembered his anger of the previous evening and the destruction it had caused.

She crossed towards the bed, thankful for the thick carpets
that
drowned her step
.
If he slept, free from worry, she did not want to waken him
.
Her only purpose was to assure her worried nerves that he was secure, not lying tormented by the demons of the day.

The bed was empty
.
She turned, about to leave and search elsewhere, when she saw him
.
He stood outlined in the window, his immense frame lit by the fireworks without.

He had not turned at her entrance and remained back to her
.
She was not sure if he was aware of her presence.

“Wulf.
”
She spoke his name softly
.
The pounding of the rain drowned her words.

He did not turn or give any indication he had heard her.

She stepped towards him, but still he gave no indication that he was aware of her
.
She moved closer until mere inches separated them.

“Wulf?” She spoke louder, injecting all her care and worry into her tone.

Still he gave no indication or acknowledgement.

She paused, unsure
.
He stood so still and statue like, only the occasional shudder of breath betraying his life.

“You should not have come.
”
The harshness of his voice resounded through the chamber.

“I had to
.
I was concerned when you did not come to dinner and your tray returned, untouched.
”
She would not share Anna’s confession.

“You’ve made it clear I am not your concern
.
Why change your inclination now, my lady?
”
The title was again an insult, more bitter and cutting than she had yet heard.

She lifted her hand and held it just above his back
.
She longed to touch him, to sooth the tension she could see in the knotted muscles and stretched tendons.

“Why don’t you go?”

“Is that really what you want?”

“Yes.”

The one word so flat and cold sucked the breath from her and her hand fell back to her side
.
She turned and began the endless walk back to the door
.
She pressed her palm against the wall, she knew she should leave but could not bring herself to slip open the door
.
She closed her eyes and prayed for guidance.

Her answer came as his deep sigh, or was it a cry
that
wrenched through the room
as thunder pounded loud
?
She spun and faced him.

She could not leave him like this
.
She stood and waited
.
Finally he turned to her
.
His face was still obscured by darkness, but she could see the shine of tears on his cheek as the night sky flashed.

She walked back towards him, drawn by an inextricable pull
.
She drew close and lifted her hand to the rivulets of moisture
.
He drew back as if struck.

She said the first words that came to her.

“I know he is but a child, but you never met him
.
Why do you grieve so deep
?
He is not even dead.
”
Her words sounded uncaring even to her own ears
.
That was not what she had meant to say
.
She lifted a hand to stroke him, let it hover near his face, not touching.

“He may be
.
He could die, now, this instant, and it would be well over a day before I knew
.
So, how should I grieve
?
Is there a prescribed amount?”

“No, of course not, but you seem as if your heart has been wrenched from you.”

He answered with a bitter humor.

“I thought you believed I did not have one.”

“No, that I never doubted.
”
She finally
laid
her hand on his cheek
.
“It was never your heart I doubted.”

“You really should go
.
I am not fit company.”

She drew even closer and lay her head against his chest, listening to the beat of his heart, smelling the sweet smell of brandy and smoke
.
When she’d entered the room it had brought distaste, now mixed with the manly odor of his sweat and tears it brought comfort and reassurance
.
She burrowed her face into his shirt and just breathed
.
She heard him swallow and in a single exhale relax.

“He is not my
cousin
.”

Startled, she drew back.

“How can you say such a thing
?
You may never have met the lad, but I have.”

“You met him
?
You met Peter?”

“Yes, I took Anna to the park one morning when we were in London last year
.
He rescued her ball from a bush
.
I made inquiries afterwards
.
The eyes are unmistakable.”

“Yes, those dratted Falmouth eyes
.
Always do breed true.”

“And yet you claim he’s not your
cousin
.”

Wulf set his hands about her shoulders and pushed her back gently until she could peer up into his face, his eyes hooded and lips twisted in some private joke.

“No, he is not my
cousin
.
Would that he was.”

Though barely above a whisper his voice rang hollow through the room
.

“I still don’t understand
.
Don’t understand any of this,” she answered back.

He turned away from her then, not moving away, she could still feel the heat of his body seeking her out, caressing her
.
But in that one turn of his head he built a wall between them.

“He is not my
cousin
.
He is my son.”

Rose stepped back, collapsing on the edge of the bed as she tried to make sense of his words
.
She raised her eyes up to his in question
.
His met hers, his expression cutting.

He looked away
.
“I seem to make a habit of playing the fool
.
I despise myself for allowing weakness
.
It was inexcusable.”

Scrabbling to catch up with him she replied, “But, you would never, I mean with me you did, but you didn’t know
.
I can’t believe, with your own aunt.”

“No, you’re right, I never would, but did you think you were the only lady to lie and cheat to get her own way.”

“But, how
?
Why?”

“I would think the how is obvious.
”

He strode away from her and sloshed a measure of brandy into a glass
.
The decanter was almost empty.

She swallowed and rose to come before him
.
The whole world had coalesced with amazing clarity and Rose knew that this was the heart of it all, the heart of everything that had stood between them.

“I don’t mean that
.
How could you take your aunt into your bed
?
We may disagree, with great frequency, but I have never doubted your honor.”

He chuckled, but not with mirth
.
“Did you ever see Clarissa, my uncle’s child bride?”