Sacrifice (Fashionably Impure Book 3) (6 page)

Tomorrow morning would be soon enough.

Unbearable or not, he would have to leave
her and Davey and go and do what must be done for both of their sakes. His own
happiness or discomfort was not important. He must keep Miranda safe. Also, now
Davey’s happiness and well-being depended on having her in his life. There were
so many reasons why this parting must happen.

But Adrian grieved the necessity to the
very depths of his soul.

He eased himself down to lie beside
Miranda and gathered her into his arms. He put his lips to her cheek. “I know
you are tired.”

“I don’t really want to sleep.” Her voice
slurred the words, telling of her deep fatigue. “I don’t want to lose our last
hours together.”

At the sadness that entered her voice,
his heart contracted. How painful this would be to her. How straining for she
must face any scandal alone. For now.

It must be this way.

It was so unfair.

He hated Winterton all the more for this
parting.

“I know that you should sleep.” He paused
to bend and brush his lips against her forehead. “But there are things we must
discuss.”

She made a soft sound of acquiescence.

“I do not trust Winterton.”

“I don’t trust him either,” she said,
stifling a yawn.

“I want you to take Davey and go to live
with Jon and Anne.”

She went rigid. He sensed her coming
fully alert. “Adrian, you can’t mean that.”

“It is the best thing.”

“But your cousin does not approve of me.”

“No, he does not.” Adrian couldn’t lie to
her. “But he knows family duty. He lives and breathes it. He will protect you
and Davey in whatever way is needed. He will be kind and generous with you
both. It is the best situation since I cannot be here for you.”

“Oh goodness, Adrian. How can I possibly
live with strangers?”

“They are not strangers to me. Please
Miranda, do this for me.” He tightened his hold on her. “For my peace of mind.”

“Oh, I don’t know… the disdainful way he
looked at me today…” She shuddered slightly against him.

“It is not disdain.” Adrian said, knowing
his cousin was displaying distrust for Miranda’s reputation as a cold,
unfeeling, greedy young woman. Not knowing how to say that without hurting her,
he struggled for words. “It is your previous reputation catching up with you.
He does not know you like I do.”

No one else knew her as he did.

It would go against her. There was
nothing he could do about that now.

Damn Jon for his near parental concern.
Damn the man for allowing Miranda to see it. But that was done. Now Adrian
needed her cooperation. He decided to try a different tact.

“I am leaving my son to your sole
responsibility.”

“I know.”

“I would not do that if I didn’t hold you
in the highest possible regard or trust. I know that you would do anything
needed to assure his safety and well-being.”

“Of course I would.” Her voice rang with
conviction.

“Miranda, I believe this is necessary for
his safety and yours.” He continued more stridently. “You are a parent to him
now. You do not live only for yourself. You must think of your own safety more
closely for you must be there for him.”

She had caught her breath.

He continued, “I know that you have this
kind of selfless responsibility within you. I saw you give it to your mother.
Such selfless giving is part of what makes me love you so dearly.”

She pulled away from him and slid from
the bed and go to pour herself a glass of claret. He watched her with such a
heavy heart that he could take no pleasure in her nakedness bathed in
firelight. She stood staring into the flames slowly draining the glass. Then
she bent her head.

Had her shoulders begun to shake?

With his heart contracting all over
again, he sprang from the bed and went to her. He put his hands on her
shoulders. “Miranda.” He heard all his own pain resound in his voice as he
pulled her into his embrace.

But she raised her face to his, her eyes
were dry.

“All right, if you think it is truly
necessary, I will go and live with your cousin and his countess.”

He could feel her trembling. She was
frightened by the prospect. Had he ever thought her cold and invulnerable? How
could he have ever been so insensitive to have not seen her clearly? He could
have loved her all the sooner and they might have had more time together had he
not been so blinded by his prejudices. He stroked her hair and she trembled all
the harder. His heart contracted with another twinge of pain for her.

“I’ll do it for Davey. I’d do anything
for him.” Her soft voice was barely audible.

“Yes, I know.” He put his cheek to hers.
“My brave girl.”

She laughed the sound shaky and full of
nervousness.

“I shall return before you know.”

“How long?”

“Three—four months at most.”

“Promise?”

Christ, how girlish and hopeful she
sounded. Renewed pain— more than a twinge, this time it sliced through him like
a knife. He took a ragged breath. “Yes, I will make certain of it. Do you think
I can bear to be parted from you longer than that?” He heard his voice going
hoarse. How would he ever bear being parted from her?

He tightened his hold even more and put
his face into the crook of her neck, inhaling her unique spicy, floral scent,
loving it as much— no, more than he had that night at the courtesans’ ball.

“Remember when we danced at the
Courtesans’ Ball?” he said against her neck, still hearing the hoarseness in
his own voice.

She tensed.

“You were so cold to me, my love. I
thought to myself that you could surely freeze a man’s stones off.”

She laughed, softly, her body gently
shaking against his. “Goodness.”

“Goodness?” He kissed her neck. “There
was nothing of goodness in my motives.”

“Wasn’t there?” Amusement sounded in her
voice.

“I wanted to confront you about Carrville
and all the sins I imagined you to be guilty of.”

“Ha!” She gave him a slight shove against
his chest, pulling away from him to look him in the eye. “You wanted an excuse
to touch me.”

Now it was his turn to tense.

“You found any excuse to touch me.”

Caught, he had to laugh.

She pulled him closer and touched his
face with both hands. “Now you need not find any excuses. I would beg and plead
for your touch. I have no haughty pride now, just love for you.”

“You need never beg me.” He took her
hands from his face and closed his fingers about hers and drew her into the
proper position for a waltz, albeit too close for propriety.

He led her around the dance steps, whilst
humming the notes to a remembered and beloved waltz.

“Have you ever danced in the nude?” he
asked, as the dance steps brought them together.

“No,” she said, laughter in her voice.
She leaned up, brushing her tightened nipples against his chest. She put her
mouth to his, briefly then backed away, amusement glowing in her pale green
eyes. “Have you, my lord?”

He shook his head.

She smiled and gracefully moved though
the next steps, with the fire playing upon her hair and her gorgeous breasts
bouncing softly.

She was so young, so vulnerable, so
lovely.

Yet so brave and strong.

God help him, he loved her so…

How would he ever simply walk away from
her and into his carriage and leave her?

He must.

His heart contracted, harder than ever.
He reached for her and with one move, jerked her to his body and pressed his
face into the curve of her shoulder. “God, Miranda, how I love you.”

Her body began to tremble. He firmed his
hold and placed his cheek against hers. He felt the wetness of her tears.

His own eyes began to burn. The urge to
bury his face in her hair, to hide his weakness rose hotly within him.

However, he knew the cost to her be so
vulnerable with any man.

Even him.

He had hurt her before, through his
insensitivity. He had vowed to be more sensitive to her. And so he lifted his
head and pulled away from her just enough that she could see his face. See the
evidence of his vulnerability to her that equaled or perhaps rivaled hers to
him.

She touched his cheek.

He pressed his hand over hers.

“Couldn’t we just be poor?” She sniffed
softly, the whites of her eyes, the tracks on her cheeks glistening.

“No, my love, we can’t.”

“Surely being poor together is better
than this.”

He couldn’t tell her of his plans to
pursue and challenge Winterton. If he did, he’d have to justify it by telling
her all the evil things her father had plotted against her.

This he would not do.

He would not frighten her.

He would not hurt her with the ultimate
knowledge of the depths her father would sink to in order to plunge her into
devastation and oblivion.

“I’ll be home to you before you know it.”
He took her hand and kissed it.

Her throat worked up and down then she
nodded slowly. But a fresh torrent of tears washed down her cheeks.

God, he could not take this.

She sniffled, hard, for tears were
flooding down her face. She pulled away from him and watched as she ran to the
washstand.

Maybe she wouldn’t forgive him for
putting her through this.

He watched, feeling helpless as she
washed her tears away. She dried her face with a towel and he went and poured
them both a glass of wine.

He had made her a promise that he would
never drink to excess again but now surely they both could use one. They stood
near the fire and silently quaffed their drinks.

Then she turned to him, dry-eyed. He
could
feel
her strength having returned. Had he ever loved her more than
he did in this moment?

“Take me back to the bed and let us speak
no more of your parting until dawn,” she said.

Chapter
Four

“Miranda,” Davey spoke slowly, carefully
parsing each syllable. “Will you open my present next?”

Miranda looked at him and smiled. Even in
the weak sunlight of the winter’s day, Christmas day, his hair shone with gold
tones.

They sat, close together in the great
hall of Blackmore Castle, the Earl of Ruel’s estate. Perched on a cliff with
its rugged high stone walls and turrets that overlooked the shore, it was like
something from a novel featuring captured maidens, wicked knights and ghosts.

However, the interior was decorated with
rich jewel colors and brass accents, appointed with every luxury, for the
plump, raven-haired countess was a lady who loved luxury.

Davey sat on the edge of his chair, his
eyes almost burning with barely contained excitement. Wads of wrapping paper
and bits of colored ribbons lay strewn on the floor around him. A small
treasure trove of toys and books was stacked on a table at his side.

“Of course I will,” she said.

“Brentwood helped me pay for it,” Davey
said, a little breathlessly.

Ruel had taken all the children, except
for the toddling ones, to Cambridge, earlier in the week for their yuletide
shopping. That had been a great adventure for Davey and he had not stopped
chattering about it yet.

Brentwood looked up, his gaze full of
disdain. “Father sent the money to me; of course I paid for it.”

His voice was surely colder than the wind
out of doors. He had come from school for a short visit. Now, he was pointedly
not looking at her, his handsome aristocratic face held in a rigid expression.

Heaven help her. It was just as hard to
live amid Adrian’s family as she had initially imagined when he had brought the
matter up with her.

Lady Ruel was kind, and though quiet,
when surrounded by her children she radiated warmth that was comforting.

Lord Ruel, on the other hand, treated
Miranda with a chilly politeness that was harder to bear than if he had been
openly hostile. But he wasn’t allowed to show his true feelings for, upon his
arrival, each time he had shown the least falter in respect towards her, Lord
Ruel had quickly taken disciplinary action.

The tall, powerfully built earl had a
fierce visage that would have made him a formidable figure to begin with. His
pale ash blond hair and intense, ice blue eyes only added to the sense of the
cool, aristocratic bearing. And he often turned that fearsome gaze upon her,
when he thought she wasn’t noticing—just as he was now—his eyes narrowing
slightly, as though weighing and measuring her.