Redeeming Jack (11 page)

She held her breath as he slid one long finger inside her and began to rock her against him. “Let me do this for you,
cariad, bach
. Let me give you pleasure.”

She didn’t need to respond as he stroked and tantalized her swollen flesh, his thumb swirling over her bud, his finger plunging deep until she could hear her own slick wetness. She rubbed her breasts against his arm as he moved, drawing her nipples to hard, needy points. After a long while, her breathing grew ragged, mimicking his, and she strained against him. With a groan, he dragged her left leg back over his hip, opening her wide to his questing fingers. His mouth found hers and joined the driving rhythm, urging her toward completion, toward sensual satisfaction.

She cried out as she shuddered and bucked around his clever, magical fingers. He gentled his touch, following her down, soothing and tending to her waning desire.

Carys squeezed her eyes shut. She couldn’t look at him. She buried her face in her pillow as her tears started to flow. Jack kissed her neck, her shoulder, her ear, murmuring endearments in Welsh, telling her to sleep, telling her everything would be all right. But how could it, when she had sworn to marry another man and yet still desired her husband?

JACK STEPPED OUT of the carriage and glanced up at the clear blue sky. Raucous seagulls wheeled and dove above his head, searching for tidbits of food on the busy quayside. The sharp tang of seawater and decayed fish filled his nostrils. As a child, he’d spent many stolen hours loitering by the docks, listening to the tall tales of the sailors. He breathed in the stench of Swansea with deep appreciation.

Home. Or as close to home as he intended to come. He had no intention of presenting himself, cap in hand, at his father’s residence at Llewelyn Hall.

“Be careful, my sweet. The cobbles are slippery.” He turned to help Carys descend.

Carys held her handkerchief to her nose and avoided Jack’s gaze. She relinquished his arm as soon as she gained her footing. With a whisk of her petticoats and a toss of her head, she turned and headed for the Prince of Wales Inn.

Jack stared after her. She’d stopped speaking to him after the night he’d shared her bed. Despite immense provocation on his part, she’d not even bothered to fight with him. That annoyed him even more. Had he failed to please her? Had his touch not met her new standards? He could hardly ask.

In an effort to appease her, he’d agreed to meet with her solicitor as soon as they put down their baggage at the inn. Jack had no idea why he was expected to meet with the man or why Carys had engaged him. She hadn’t seemed willing to explain. He could only assume it had something to do with his father and his handling of Jack’s finances on behalf of his wife.

After stowing his bag in his room, Jack bade the landlord a cheery goodbye and sauntered down the stairs. Sunlight poured through the open door like molten gold, framing Carys as she stood in the yard. Jack caught his breath. She made an enchanting picture, her green pelisse molded to her figure by the wind and the ribbons on her bonnet tugging to be free.

A reluctant grin curled Jack’s lips as she caught sight of him. She tapped her toe, her expression as chilly as the sea breeze slicing in off the shore.

Jack took her gloved hand, laid it on his sleeve and covered it with his own. “I apologize for keeping you waiting,” he said. “Shall we proceed?”

Carys cast him a scathing look. “I know you have other business to attend to in Swansea, but I have a home to run and I’ve been away for too long.”

Jack gave her a sideways glance but could see little of her face. Who waited for her at home who made her so anxious to return? Perhaps the obnoxious Owen was one of her servants. Jack imagined their reunion, Carys’s red gold hair spilled out on the pillows, her soft cries as the unknown man entered her warm and willing body…

Jack stopped walking and Carys tugged at his sleeve.

“Whatever is the matter?”

He stared at her for a silent moment. His decision to question her about Owen and his whereabouts already formed. He let out his breath. Damnation. If she’d found pleasure with another man, who was he to reprimand her? He’d had his fair share of lovers in the first bitter months of their separation—until he’d realized that nothing could replace what he’d had with his wife and so foolishly squandered.

He started forward again. Owen was a Welsh name. It was still considered unpatriotic for any noble family, even a Welsh one, to give their children anything other than a good English name. Even the Rice family had anglicized their name from Rhys. Perhaps, if things turned out the way he hoped, Owen would disappear after a suitable gratuity was offered him.

Glad to have overcome his fears, Jack listened to Carys’s directions. The solicitor’s office came in view at the end of a terraced row of houses. Jack knocked at the door. If he could brush through this business quickly, he might be on his way to capture Mrs. Forester by the end of the day.

* * *

“What in God’s name are you talking about?”

Jack tried to hang onto the shreds of his temper as Mr. Posthumous Phillips, Carys’s solicitor, regarded him through half moon spectacles. He wore an old-fashioned gray wig that clashed with his yellowing caterpillar eyebrows. Jack felt claustrophobic in the book-lined office, which seemed in imminent danger of being swallowed by an ever-encroaching circle of piled-up parchments. The musty smell also reminded him of uncomfortable hours spent in his father’s study being either shouted at or beaten.

“It is quite simple, my lord. Lady Jack Llewelyn wishes you to divorce her.”

Jack stiffened and shot a quick glance at Carys. Her bonnet shielded her expression. She sat near the corner of Mr. Phillips’ desk, her back not touching the chair, her demeanor every inch that of a grand lady.

Jack forced himself to look away. She must have planned this from their first meeting. Why was he surprised? It wasn’t exactly the first time she’d failed him. He struggled to speak as a knot of pain curled in his gut like a burning fist. He felt as if he were being proven unworthy all over again. “And why exactly does she wish to do that?”

As Mr. Philips studied the papers in front of him, his short neck disappeared into the folds of his sage green cravat, giving him the appearance of a venerable turtle. “If a divorce is granted, and that is by no means certain, Lord Oliver Rice wishes to marry Lady Jack Llewelyn. He is prepared to pay the costs of the divorce and offer you substantial damages for your trouble.”

“For my trouble.” Jack rose and marched across to the window, narrowly avoiding the stacks of files on the faded carpet. He flung open the small window and sucked in a deep breath of sea air. He’d assumed Rice was content to remain Carys’s lover. But it appeared the man was prepared to risk his entire fortune
and
the good name of his family in a quest to be wed. “Perhaps you might advise me, Mr. Phillips. I’m not even sure what the divorce laws are in this country, although my wife has obviously studied them.” He couldn’t keep the bitterness out of his voice and didn’t care if she heard it.

He’d waited too long to come back to her.

It seemed she no longer wanted him.

Mr. Phillips cleared his throat. “Very wise of you, my lord. I’ll explain as best I can. Parliamentary divorces are only granted for adultery by a wife. In this case, it means that you, Lord Jack Llewelyn, are the injured party. You would have to prove that Lady Carys committed adultery with at least one man.”

Jack swung around and locked his gaze with Carys. “Only one?”

Mr. Phillips gave him a severe look before continuing. “You would have to sue through the courts for a civil separation, then sue your wife’s lover for monetary damages. And then there are the church courts to contend with. As I mentioned, Lord Oliver Rice has professed himself willing to pay whatever you require.”

“How very good of him,” Jack muttered.

Carys looked away.

“Is there anything else I should know?”

“After suing for separation and damages, you would then request a parliamentary divorce.” Mr. Phillips referred to a document on his desk. “If, after the petition was filed, you and Lady Jack Llewelyn were seen to have reconciled or chose to live together again, you could no longer proceed with the divorce.”

Carys frowned. “I didn’t realize that, Mr. Philips.”

Jack laughed. “Not as clever as you thought, eh, Carys? Mr. Phillips, can I take my wife back into my bed and resume marital relations even after acknowledging her adultery?”

“That is correct, my lord. If you do that, you are deemed to have forgiven her, and divorce is no longer an option.”

It was Carys’s turn to stand. “That is unfair!”

Jack shrugged. “It’s the way of the world, my love. I can keep you in rags, take your children away from you, bring my mistress to live in our house and there’s not a damned thing you can do about it.” He strolled across to her, his hands in his pockets, and stared into her indignant blue eyes. “If I chose to forgive you for your lamentably poor taste in taking up with that dunderhead, Rice, I can.”

“There is another option, my lord, if you simply wish to separate,” Mr. Phillips intervened, his agitation clear on his face.

Carys sat down and Jack concentrated on looking amused.

“A church divorce or separation can be arranged through the Ecclesiastical courts. You must live separately, but you cannot marry another.” Mr. Phillips coughed. “Of course, any children of your previous union would be regarded as bastards.”

All the color bled from Carys’s face. “I cannot agree to that. I require a parliamentary divorce or nothing.”

Jack studied her pale features, admiring the determination beneath her soft exterior even as he hated it. Was she fighting to protect the child who currently had the protection of Jack’s name? As far as the world and the law were concerned, that child would be considered his—unless he divorced her. Did she truly want to marry Lord Rice? Jack wasn’t sure. His mind rebelled against either option.

He leaned back against the window and crossed his arms. “How much money do you think Rice is worth then, Carys? How high a price will he pay to release you from my clutches?”

Carys tilted her head to one side and regarded him, her expression cool. “I have no idea. How much do you think you are worth?”

Nothing
, Jack thought, although he resisted the impulse to say it aloud. It seemed he had no part to play in Carys’s grand plans for the future except that of pensioned-off lover.

“Lord Jack, I believe Lord Rice was thinking of offering you five thousand guineas,” Mr. Phillips said.

“That’s very generous of him,” Jack answered. It was an amount calculated to allow him to live comfortably on the fringes of society for the rest of his life. He stared down at his patched boots. Such a sum, if he were careful, would take away his financial worries forever.

He wouldn’t even have to soil his hands with manual labor, as his father might say. The thought of the independence the money would give him fought his other more possessive emotions. If Carys wanted to be free of him, she had chosen an excellent weapon.

Jack nodded abruptly at Mr. Phillips. “I need to think about this. May I come and visit you in private?”

Mr. Phillips stood up and bowed. “Of course, my lord. Although I would not be able to act for you myself, I am sure one of my partners would be delighted to advise you in this matter.”

Jack opened the door and waited for Carys to precede him. On the curve of the stair between the first and ground floor, he took hold of her arm to stop her descent.

“You tricked me nicely, my dear.”

“I don’t understand what you mean.”

“For the past few days you’ve played me like an expert angler with a fish on a line. You even stirred my long-forgotten gentlemanly honor so I wouldn’t take what you so sweetly offered me in bed.”

Color crept up her face. “I see your newly activated conscience still permits you to mention that terrible lapse of judgment I made.”

“That was no lapse, Carys, and we both know I’m no gentleman.” He followed the curve of her jaw with his thumb. “You wanted me. You were hot, wet and willing. I could’ve been inside you in a moment.”

Her hand flew up and struck his cheek. “How dare you!” she whispered, pushing at his chest. He released her and she almost fell down the stairs.

“Perhaps you should be glad one of us retained a modicum of sense,” Jack said. “I have no intention of perjuring myself if I have to swear on oath that I’ve not taken you back into my bed.”

“I didn’t think…” Carys brought her gloved hand up to cover her mouth.

Jack raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t you listen to your lawyer? I can take you back at any time and prevent you from getting a divorce. If Mr. Phillips knew how ‘close’ we’d been on our journey here, I doubt he would even accept the case.” He bowed. “If you truly want to divorce me, perhaps you should stop playing games. I am but a man. I will take what comfort I can get in your arms, as is my right as your
husband
.”

Jack went past Carys and continued down the stairs, pausing at the bottom. He rubbed at his rapidly swelling lip with the back of his hand, aware that she was now beside him. She tried to speak, her face a pale mask in the shadows of the stairway. He held up his hand, anger replacing his earlier confusion, anger that was far easier to express than his sense of shock and dismay.

“I should have bedded you, Carys, and shouted it from the rooftops. If you wish to be free of me, you’ll have to come up with a better reason than that sapskull, Lord Rice. I should at least be able to admire the man who damn well replaces me.”

Would she tell him about the child now? Would she finally admit it? He waited, but he knew he’d already said too much. Pure fury guided his steps down toward the docks. He’d find one of the local hostelries and wait out his anger there. At least he could share a manly conversation and a pint and be spared the inconsistencies of womankind.

GARETH SWERVED TO avoid a bucket of slops hurled from a window as Jack drew deeper into the tenements along the lower dockside. Lines of washing strung up between the buildings obscured the meager sunlight and dappled the filthy surfaces below in thick shadow.