Pride and Fire (31 page)

Michelle said nothing, focusing on the liquid in her glass.

“I know they’ll work this out,” Becca said. “There’s more than just the two of them to consider.”

Michelle closed her eyes and touched her belly.

“Do you mean she’s…?” Geoffrey began.

“Yes,” Becca answered. “And Leed knows nothing of it.”

“Well, I’ll simply tell Leed—”

“No!” Michelle cut in. “He mustn’t know about the baby. I won’t have him come to me out of guilt.”

“But, that’s preposterous,” Geoffrey said. “It’s obvious Leed is mad for you.”

Michelle just shook her head.

“Why don’t you go upstairs and rest, Michelle?” Becca suggested.

Michelle swallowed a little more of the brandy and stood. She wiped her eyes and climbed the stairs to her guest room. She stripped down to her chemise and petticoat and stretched out on the bed. Her condition made these afternoon naps a common occurrence, and before she could give more than a fleeting thought to Paul and the note from the solicitor, she was fast asleep.

* * * *

A few days later, Starks found Paul in his study. Small wonder, since the study had been his refuge the past few days. His study and his brandy. Starks rapped sharply on the door.

“Come in,” Paul said wearily.

Even Starks couldn’t hide his reaction to Paul’s appearance. Paul knew what he looked like, disheveled, unshaven. He felt like Hell and no doubt looked like it.

“My Lord,” Starks bowed, recovering himself. “Lord Chester is here to see you.”

Paul straightened in surprise. “Send him in.”

“Leed,” Chester said from the doorway. “My God, man! You look like Hell.”

Paul’s lip curled. “What brings you to Town, Chester?”

“Roberts and I missed your dark presence at Chesterfield.”

“Oh?” Paul asked with a small laugh. “No more country dances to entertain you?”

“No, blast it,” Chester said. He sat in the chair opposite. “I had to see my solicitor on a small matter and thought to drag you back to the country with me, along with my best carriage.”

Paul shook his head firmly. “I’m afraid not, friend,” he said. “The carriage is yours. But here I am and here I shall remain.”

Chester studied Paul for a long time. “Have you heard from your wife?”

“No.”

“No?” Chester repeated. “What are you going to do about it?”

“This doesn’t concern you, Chester.”

“See here,” Chester went on, undaunted. “Your wife needs you. And you need her.”

Paul glared at his friend. “Don’t you think I’ve tried to find her?” His anger fled in an instant. “Ah, what is the use? It’s too late now.”

“What?” Chester asked. “Why?”

Paul couldn’t tell him what he did to Michelle at Thomasham. He lowered his head in shame. “It’s better this way, Chester.”

“You are a stubborn fool.”

Paul’s head snapped up. “What?”

“I don’t know what happened between the two of you, but you’d best put aside your pride.”

Chester’s words stung. Michelle had accused him of being proud, and now his friend did the same?

“Get out of here, Chester.” Paul came to his feet, his hands in fists. “You don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“All right,” Chester said. “But let me leave you with this advice.”

“Speak it and leave me in peace.”

“You avoided Michelle at Kanewood last year,” Chester said. “Do you want risk losing her again?”

Paul closed his eyes. At Kanewood he’d wanted to know Michelle, to talk to her, to kiss her. He’d avoided her and spent a year without her in his arms. Paul shook his head to clear it, his shoulders slumping in defeat. He opened his eyes to find Chester grinning.

“Don’t look so satisfied with yourself,” Paul grumbled. “I still don’t know where she is, damn it.”

The two of them were thoughtful for a long moment. Suddenly it struck Paul. He looked over at Chester, who furrowed his brow in confusion.

“Kanewood, Chester,” Paul said. He stood and straightened his clothes. “She’s at Kanewood.”

Paul left for Kanewood early the next morning. He had a long time to think on the trip to Kanewood. He sat and puzzled over what he’d say to Michelle to make amends for his horrible treatment of her.

When he thought of her dealings with Reggie, anger shot through him. Anger at Reggie and at himself. If he’d trusted Michelle with his problems, if she could have come to him with her own concerns, she wouldn’t have gone to that bastard. She’d been attacked and nearly raped because of her dealings with Reggie, and Paul wasn’t blameless in any of it.

It still rankled that she’d violated his privacy. His government work, his speeches, were his business. No matter. He’d forgive her that transgression as well. A smile tugged at his lips. He’d forgive his wife anything, as long as she took him back.

Settling back against the cushioned seat, he closed his eyes. His many sleepless nights since leaving Thomasham caught up with him, and he fell into a light doze. He awoke only when the carriage rocked to a stop at an inn for lunch. He smoothed his hands over his clothes and alighted.

Michelle perched on an arm chair in the library at Kanewood. The large masculine room was very different from the one at Thomasham, the one where Reggie had attacked her. She found she could pass time there and not be reminded of that night. She thumbed through the book in her lap, her mind sluggish. It was soon after lunchtime, yet she was hungry again. Her stomach continued its traitorous behavior, and she never knew what it was about. She’d managed to eat some soup at the midday meal but not much else.

She reveled in the solace she encountered this day. Lady Margaret had her own diversions, visiting several of her friends about the countryside. Geoffrey and Becca had gone riding, leaving her to her thoughts. No mention was made of Paul since the other day when Michelle had broken down, but the earl and his wife were watchful of her behavior. She was happy to be out from under their attentions for the time being. She blew out a breath and tried to focus once more on the book beneath her hands.

At last, Paul arrived at Kanewood. He stepped down from the carriage and bounded up the steps to the massive front door. He rapped sharply, eager to find Michelle and commence his groveling.

The butler pulled open the door. “Lord Leed. What can we do for you?”

Paul took a breath. “Is Lady Leed within?”

“Yes, My Lord. I believe you’ll find her in the library.”

Paul’s heart began to beat again. She was here. He nodded to the butler and hurried to the library. He stopped in the doorway, drinking in the pleasing picture of his wife. She wore a dress of pale yellow, the bodice trimmed with a narrow strip of lace. Her head was bent, her eyes on the book in her lap. Her lashes looked incredibly long to him, her skin like porcelain. Her hair, curled and brushing her cheeks, caught the fall sunshine glinting through the leaded windows.

He noticed her face was pale, and there were faint smudges beneath those long lashes. Guilt shot through him once more. He shook his head and straightened, vowing to put matters to rights.

He leaned against the door jamb, forcing an air of relaxation into his demeanor. “Do you find that book quite fascinating, love?”

Michelle turned toward the door and froze. She came to her feet, her eyes round. “Paul…?”

Paul smiled and stepped toward her. She suddenly paled and crumpled to the floor. Alarmed, he ran to kneel beside her, cradling her in his arms.

“Michelle? What the devil…?” He looked down at her. Her eyes were closed. “Hello, there!” he called toward the doorway. A maidservant rushed into the room.

“Yes, My Lord?” she asked with a curtsy.

“Get Lord Kanewood,” he ordered. “Now.”

She ran from the room and Paul dropped kisses on Michelle’s cool cheek. Becca and Geoffrey arrived within moments.

“Leed, what are you doing here?” Geoffrey asked.

Paul looked up. “Never mind that. What the hell is wrong with my wife?”

Becca looked from his face to Michelle’s. She breathed a sigh of relief and smiled.

“Rebecca,” Paul began, “do you mind telling me what the devil is going on?”

“Michelle fainted,” she said simply.

Paul’s brow furrowed. “Why…why would she faint?”

Becca shook her head, evading an answer.

“Why don’t you bring her into the parlor,” Geoffrey suggested.

Paul hesitated, then stood and cradled Michelle in his arms. Stopping a moment, he closed his eyes and pressed her tightly against him. He strode into the parlor and laid her down on the settee nearest the fireplace. Brushing her hair away from her face, he searched for any signs of injuries. Her breathing appeared to be steady, thank God. He held her hand tightly and stared down at her.

“Do lose that frown, Leed,” Geoffrey drawled. “If your wife sees it when she awakes she’s likely to swoon again.”

Paul glared at his friend. He opened his mouth to reply to his goading when Michelle let out a small whimper. His gaze settled on her once more.

“Paul?” she said weakly, her eyes still closed.

“Yes, love,” he said softly. “I’m here.”

Michelle opened her eyes and tried to focus. Paul’s face was blurry but there was no mistaking his beautiful eyes. Tears welled up in her own.

“Oh, Paul,” she sobbed.

“Shh,” he soothed. “It’s all right, darling. I’m here now and everything is going to be all right.”

Geoffrey and Becca shared a meaningful look and left them to their privacy, closing the parlor doors behind them.

Michelle sniffled and looked at Paul once more. Gone was the anger, the coldness he’d shown her at Thomasham. Odd, but he looked worried about something.

“Paul, is something wrong?”

He smiled. “You fainted, love.”

She began to shake her head in disagreement.

“Yes,” he insisted. “Apparently one glimpse of my handsome face caused you to swoon.”

She smiled weakly at him. “I never swoon, husband. I melt.”

He laughed softly and hugged her to him. He rained kisses on her face, her hair. “I love you, Michelle,” he said, his voice raw. “I’m so sorry for what I did.”

She shook her head at him. “No, Paul. You had every right to be angry with me.”

“But that last time, love… In the Rose Room.” He took a breath. “God, I never should have hurt you.”

“I never should have meddled in your affairs.”

“You’re my wife,” he said. “My affairs are yours.”

She smiled at that and lifted her hand to stroke his cheek.

He leaned into her caress, closing his eyes. “God, how I’ve missed you.”

A smile teased the corner of her mouth. “Show me.”

“But you’re not well,” he said, his brow furrowed.

“I’m perfectly healthy, husband.”

He ran his gaze over her from her head to her toes. “You fainted,” he countered. “Right before my eyes you fell to the floor in a swoon.”

She sat up. “There’s a sound explanation for my fainting.”

“A sound explanation?” he repeated. “What the devil are you talking about?”

Michelle took his hand and placed it on her stomach. Paul looked down at his hand and back up to her face. Recognition dawned on him and his brows shot up.

“Michelle, are you…?” he stammered. “That is, are we…?”

She nodded and laughed for the first time in weeks as he hugged her to him once more.

“A baby,” he whispered. He pulled back and shot her a look of worry. “But the fainting. Are you quite certain everything is all right?”

“I’m fine, Paul,” she said. “I didn’t eat much at midday, and I suppose the shock of seeing you, well…”

“I’m a bloody fool.”

Michelle nodded her agreement and grinned.

Chapter 30

Paul laughed and helped Michelle to her feet. When she took his hand and led him from the room, he bent his head to hers. “What are you about, wife?”

She only smiled in answer. When the door to the guest room was closed tight behind them, he pulled her into his arms.

She cuddled against his chest. “Oh, Paul. It feels so good to have your arms around me again.”

He nuzzled the side of her neck, placing little kisses on her sensitive skin. “Ah, you smell like heaven, Michelle.”

She pulled back and ran her hands over his chest, pushing his jacket off of his shoulders. She did the same with his waistcoat, letting the satiny garment fall to the floor. He held her loosely by the waist as she removed his shirt and cravat. He closed his eyes and let out a ragged breath as her fingers reached the waistband of his breeches.

“No, love.” He took her hands in his. “I fear it will be over too soon if you continue.”

Michelle took a step back and led him over to the bed. When he just sat and stared at her she placed her hands on her hips and cocked her head to one side. “Can you manage your boots, husband?”

Paul barked out a laugh and quickly removed his boots, all but throwing them across the room. She stepped between his legs and turned her back to him. He fumbled with the small hooks in the back of her dress, his fingertips fairly burning her skin. His hands shook as he released her, leaving the dress wide open. She looked at him over her shoulder, reading the heat in his eyes. Then she let the dress fall to the floor and faced him.

He tugged at the ribbons holding up her chemise, slipping it down off her shoulders. He cupped her breasts with his hands, his thumbs brushing over her sensitive nipples.

“Oh, Paul…” She strained toward him.

He placed his hands on her waist and pulled her closer. He rasped his tongue over one nipple, drawing it into his mouth. He nipped it lightly and she gasped.

“Does that hurt?” he asked, pulling away from her.

“God, no,” she breathed. “That feels so good.”

He smiled and lowered his head. She arched as his hand caressed her other breast, the familiar warmth spreading through her. She clutched at his shoulders, her knees weak. He eased her petticoat and drawers over her hips and down her legs, his hands running slowly over her as they worked their way back up.

“
You
feel so good,” he murmured.

His fingers reached the soft curls that shielded her womanhood. He stroked the folds of her and she grew damp. His mouth left her breasts to kiss and lick its way down to her center. He cupped her bottom in his hands and brought her closer still.