Reese's Bride (23 page)

Desire rose again, swift and greedy. Refusing to give in to the urge to carry her over to the bed and make love to her again, he began to rearrange his clothes and rebutton his trousers.

He looked up at the feel of her palm against his cheek. “Don’t go…” she whispered. “Stay here with me.”

His throat tightened. He wanted to stay so badly he ached. Then he thought of the night he had arrived home on his first leave only to discover that two days earlier, his future bride had married another man. He remembered the soul-crushing pain, the feeling of unbearable loss. He remembered the years of anger that had followed, changing him into a different man.

Reese removed the gentle hand pressed against his cheek and forced himself to turn away. “Sleep well, Elizabeth.”

As he stepped out into the passage, he steeled himself
against the sound of Elizabeth’s tears, and the urge to return and pull her into his arms.

Elizabeth knelt in the front pew of the tiny chapel at Holiday House. It was a lovely, quiet place, the walls paneled in ornately carved rosewood, the interior brightened by rows of stained glass windows. Her mother had taken her there when she was a little girl, and though she had come several times when she was older, it wasn’t the same.

This morning, Elizabeth had felt the need to visit the chapel again, to light the candles on the altar, to kneel in front of the cross and seek forgiveness for her sins.

Once she had believed strongly in God. After she had married Edmund, her belief in God had faded beneath the pain that no amount of prayer seemed to lessen. Then Edmund had died. Mason and Frances had taken control of her life and again God seemed to have abandoned her and her son.

The night she had fled Aldridge Park, she had prayed to God as she hadn’t in years. She had asked for His aid in saving her son, and in His wisdom, He had sent her to Reese. He had given her the chance to make amends to her son and his father, a chance to find the happiness she hadn’t known since she had lost Reese all those years ago.

Elizabeth’s throat ached. Bending her head, she began to pray, asking again for God’s wisdom, asking Him to help her find a way through the muddle she had made of her life, a way back to Reese.

A sob welled in her throat and tears rolled down her cheeks. Dear God, she loved him so much.

She wasn’t sure how long she knelt there, but when she
rose, her knees ached and the lace shawl she wore over her head had slipped to her shoulders. Her cheeks were wet and her heart felt utterly broken. And yet, she could not give up hope. She loved Reese and perhaps in time she would find a way to make him believe in her love again.

When she turned to start up the aisle, she caught a glimpse of someone leaving the chapel. One of the guards, she was sure.

Reese was still being watchful. He didn’t trust Mason, though tomorrow they would travel as a family to London to meet with Reese’s solicitor and begin the legalities that would result in Jared’s abdication of the Aldridge title. She had convinced Reese to rent a furnished town house for the next few weeks, since the journey back and forth to Holiday House was tiring and they were unsure how long the proceedings might take or even if the courts would grant their petition.

In the meantime, until Mason was earl, Elizabeth, like Reese, would also be watchful.

And she would remain hopeful.

Dear God, help him learn to love me again
, she silently prayed as she made her way up the aisle and out of the chapel.

R
eese walked away from the tiny chapel, his chest once more leaden. He had wanted to speak to Elizabeth about their upcoming journey to London. Or perhaps he simply wanted to see her. He had found her there in the chapel, kneeling in prayer. Respecting her privacy, he hadn’t intruded.

Reese thought of the years she had denied him his son and wondered if she prayed for forgiveness, though lately he had begun to think that living with Aldridge, suffering his abuse, was penance enough.

It wasn’t what he wanted to believe. He wanted to stay angry. To guard himself and remain aloof from the powerful attraction he felt for her. Again and again, he reminded himself of her betrayal eight years ago, the son she had kept from him, the hell he had endured in loving her. Again and again, he told himself he dared not trust her.

As he made his way out to the stable to see his son, he worked to keep his anger alive, simmering just beneath the surface, but it was getting harder and harder to do.

Spotting Jared in the arena, hard at work with the riding master, Mr. Hobbs, Reese stopped a moment just to watch him. The little boy sat atop the small gray horse, listening to his instructor and grinning from ear to ear.

Emotion swelled in Reese’s chest. Jared was the son of his loins, his blood. God had given him the child he had always wanted. Reese saw it now, the likeness he should have seen before. The familiar way the boy’s eyebrows winged over his eyes, the small indentation in his chin. Even the curve of his mouth seemed familiar. Reese wondered why he hadn’t noticed the resemblance from the start.

But he had been blinded by Elizabeth’s claim that the boy belonged to Aldridge. And certain the precautions he had taken that night had been enough to protect her.

In truth, there was no way to be certain. He had been a novice at sex and in love and unsure even what exactly to do.

He looked over at the child in the ring. Jared was a natural rider, just as Reese had been. At seven years old—not six as Reese had believed—he stuck to the saddle like a burr in wool, handling the horse with confidence and ease, undaunted even after yesterday’s unexpected tumble. Reese watched him circle the pony round the ring, urging the animal faster.

“Very good, my boy!” said his instructor, a fortyish, slender man with hair as dark as Jared’s. “You have a nice manner with Dusty and he is enjoying himself, just as you are.”

“Can I jump him?”

Hobbs shook his head. “You are only just a beginner.
Walk him over to the fence and let him step over it. Let him get used to the motion.”

Jared did as instructed, allowing the pony to examine the low fence, then step over it.

“Now, again.”

The boy repeated the action several more times before the lesson came to an end.

Hobbs smiled. “That will be all for today. You did a very good job.”

Reluctantly, Jared handed the reins to one of the grooms and ran out of the ring, heading back to the house to resume his studies. He didn’t see Reese until he was almost upon him, then the boy slid to a halt and the grin on his face instantly faded.

Reese forced himself to smile, uncertain what this new reticence meant, wishing he could find a way to break through the child’s defenses. “You did very well out there today.”

Jared said nothing, just stared up at him. Reese could read the turmoil on his face, what seemed to be worry mingled with fear.

“What’s the matter, son?” Reese asked, kneeling in front of the boy, beginning to worry himself.

Jared flicked a glance toward the house, looked back at Reese as if there were something important he wished to say but didn’t know how to begin.

“Go on, tell me.”

“You’re angry at my mother.”

Reese took a breath. He should have expected something like this. The boy loved his mother. Of course the child would notice the rift between them. “We quarreled. That happens between married people sometimes.”

Jared’s small jaw jutted forward. Reese noticed his hands unconsciously fisted. “I won’t let you hurt her.”

His chest knotted with emotion. Regret for the way things were and a yearning for what could not be. “I would never hurt you or your mother. Nothing either of you could do could make me do that.”

“It…it happened to her before.”

Reese chose his words carefully. “You mean before you came here?”

Jared nodded. His defiant stance did not alter. “I saw him. I saw him hit her. He did it more than once.”

“Aldridge?”

Another slow up and down motion.

Reese reached out and cupped the little boy’s cheek. “I won’t ever hit her. I give you my word on that.”

Jared’s dark eyes filled with tears. Reese ached to lift him into his arms and give him the assurance he needed. But there was something in his expression, something more the boy needed to say. Reese held his breath, silently urging the child to continue.

Jared looked up at him and his bottom lip trembled. “I should have helped her. I should have tried to make him stop but…but I didn’t. I was afraid he would hit me, too.”

Reese’s heart squeezed. “You were just a little boy. You couldn’t have stopped him. There was nothing you could do.”

The tears in the Jared’s eyes rolled down his cheeks. He angrily wiped them away. “I won’t let anyone hurt her again.”

Reese couldn’t breathe. His chest was aching as if someone had punched him with a fist. Scooping the child
up in his arms, he held him against his chest. “I’ll protect your mother. And I’ll protect you. I promise I’ll keep both of you safe. You don’t ever have to be afraid again.”

Jared’s small arms went round his neck and the little boy buried his head in Reese’s shoulder. Reese’s eyes were burning and his throat ached too much to swallow. Jared started to cry in earnest and Reese didn’t try to stop him. Just held him gently until his crying eased.

“It’s all right,” he soothed, the child still tight in his arms. “Everything is going to be fine.” He took a steadying breath, trying to rein in his emotions, consigning Edmund Holloway to the depths of hell.

As he started back to the house, his leg hurting less than the ache in his chest, he spoke softly to the child, reassuring him once more that everything would be all right. When he reached the back door, he set the boy on his feet, took out his handkerchief and wiped away the last of his son’s tears.

“Ready to go back in?”

Jared nodded. He seemed to stand up a little straighter, as if the burden of his undeserved guilt had been washed away. Reese took hold of his hand and they walked inside together.

“Is everything all right?” With a mother’s instincts, Elizabeth hurried toward them, gazing worriedly at her son.

“Everything is fine.”

The boy looked up at him. Reese understood that look and a silent vow passed between them. Whatever they had shared would remain theirs alone.

Elizabeth turned to Jared, a hint of concern still lingering in her voice. “Mr. Connelly is waiting. When you didn’t arrive upstairs on time, he began to worry.”

“It was my fault,” Reese explained. “I kept him overlong at the stable.”

Elizabeth managed to smile. “You had better go on upstairs. You don’t want to keep Mr. Connelly waiting any longer.”

Jared cast Reese a last grateful glance and rushed toward the staircase. Reese watched him all the way to the second set of stairs that led to the newly refashioned nursery that now served as a schoolroom.

Reese turned to Elizabeth. “He worries about you.”

Elizabeth gazed up the stairs. “I know.”

“I don’t want him to worry about you or anyone else.”

She managed a shaky smile. “I’ll talk to him, tell him I am fine.”

Reese gently caught her shoulders. “I told him I would take care of you and I will. I’ll take care of you both.”

“I never doubted it.”

Whatever happened between them, her trust in him never wavered. “We’ll get past this, Elizabeth,” he found himself saying. “We have to. We have a son to think of, a boy who needs a mother
and
a father.”

She swallowed and her eyes brimmed with tears. “I wish I could change the past. We both know I can’t. I should have told you the truth as soon as I came to Briarwood. I wanted to, but I…”

“But you what? Why did you wait, Elizabeth?”

“I needed time to gather the courage. After…after we were married, I wanted a chance for us to get to know each other again. A chance for us to be happy.”

Something moved inside him. Reese had wanted that, too.

“I can’t undo my mistakes,” she went on, “but if you
will give me a chance, I promise you, Reese, I’ll do everything in my power to be the wife you deserve.”

The wife he deserved
. The wife she would have been eight years ago when she was just a girl?

Or perhaps something more. Perhaps she could also be the passionate lover and protective, giving mother she had grown into as she matured.

Oddly it seemed this was the woman he truly wanted.

“That’s all a man can ask,” Reese said a little gruffly. But of course there was more—much more.

Elizabeth could love him.

It surprised him to discover how much he wanted that to happen.

The hour was late, the London streets slick with mist, a heavy fog beginning to settle over this part of the city. Travis could barely make out the sign up ahead, lit by the lamplight spilling out of a nearby window, a tavern called Little Russia, the lettering on the sign printed in the Cyrillic alphabet.

Most of the signs in the neighborhood were printed in English. There was, after all, a war going on, and no one wanted to be singled out for trouble.

Travis passed the entrance to Little Russia, the taproom overflowing with raucous laughter and the sound of heavy glasses clinking together, and continued toward a spot halfway down the next block, a place called Nikolai’s.

Travis knew the owner. Nikolai Godunov was married to a distant cousin of his mother’s. Since Travis had begun prowling the district, he had made it a point to renew old acquaintances. He had been just a boy when
his mother had taken him along with her while she paid calls on friends in the neighborhood, but the Russian community was close-knit, and his mother was well remembered as a famous ballerina.

Travis shoved through the doors and walked into the smoky, low-ceilinged taproom. The bearlike man mopping the bar lifted the towel he was using and waved it in Travis’s direction.

“Eh, Aleksei!” the man called out, using Travis’s Russian middle name. “Come in and I’ll buy you a drink.”

Travis forced himself to think in Russian. “It is good to see you, Nikolai.” He ambled over to the bar and the big man poured him a shot of vodka and set the glass down in front of him. Travis reached for the glass and tossed it back, downing the liquor in one swallow.

Another shot quickly appeared. Travis let this one sit or another would be forthcoming and he had never been much of a drinking man and clearly a failure by Russian standards.

“So what brings you out on a night like this?” Nikolai asked, his voice as gruff as the bear he looked like.

Travis shrugged. “I don’t know many people in London. Now that I’m back, it feels good to hear people speaking my mother’s tongue.”

Nikolai nodded as if he understood and moved off down the bar to serve another patron. Travis scanned the crowd. As he made his rounds, he would stop by Little Russia and a couple of other places. Word had been leaked that he had secrets to sell. Sooner or later, someone was bound to approach him.

After an hour in Nikolai’s, another at Little Russia, and a stop at a place called Troyka, he knew it wouldn’t be
tonight. Frustrated with so little to show for the efforts he had been making, he hailed a hansom cab at the corner and headed back to his town house.

The place was no longer being watched, or if so only off and on. His servants mostly lived elsewhere and his butler would be retired to his third floor quarters for the night.

Travis found his way easily to the door. Apparently, the old man had left a lamp burning for him downstairs for soft light shone through the window. Travis quietly made his way inside the house and moved toward the drawing room to snuff out the lamp.

In the open doorway, he jerked to a halt. Lying on the plush ruby sofa, Annabelle Townsend lay curled on her side, a book lying open beside her. Her bonnet was missing, her light brown hair slightly mussed, several loose strands teasing her cheek.

Her lashes fluttered and her eyes shot open as he drew near, and she sat up on the sofa.

“Travis…you’re home….”

“Annabelle. What the devil are you doing here?” Worry crept in. Surely she wouldn’t have come unless she needed his help. “Has something happened? Are you all right?”

Annabelle shoved back the stray lock of hair and smiled. Travis remembered she’d always had a lovely smile.

“I am fine. I told the butler it was urgent I see you. He said you had gone out but he didn’t think you would be late in returning.” She glanced at the clock. “I see he was wrong.”

“Why did you need to see me?” He stopped right in front of her, so close he could smell her soft floral perfume.

“What you are going through can’t be easy. I came to be certain you are all right. Are you?”

“Of course I’m all right. You shouldn’t be here, Anna.” But finding her in his drawing room, her blue silk gown slightly rumpled and her cheeks flushed so prettily, he couldn’t deny he was glad to see her.

She got up from the sofa and walked toward him, her eyebrows dipping slightly together. “You’ve been gone a good long while. You weren’t with a woman, were you?”

His eyes widened. “Of course not.” He frowned. “Not that it would be any of your business if I were.”

“I suppose not, but perhaps it would be…if we were having an affair.”

An affair with Annabelle Townsend
. Just the thought made him start to go hard. He clamped down on a surge of lust. “We aren’t having an affair, Anna. And we aren’t going to.”

“Do you deny there is an attraction between us?”

He should. He should tell her she stirred him not in the least. It was difficult to do when his arousal strengthened every time he looked at her.