Seven Nights in a Rogue's Bed (41 page)

“Spectacular, isn’t it?” Jonas drawled, lifting the glass to his lips.

“If you wanted to redecorate, you could have had the mirrors carried down to the cellars.”

His beautiful mouth curved, although his eyes remained watchful. “Seemed quicker to take care of matters on the spot.”

With theatrical thoroughness, her gaze swept the destruction. “You definitely took care of matters.”

He straightened without shifting toward her. On the other hand, he didn’t shift away. She took what encouragement she could find. Nor, she was relieved to note, did she sense the distance he’d maintained between them in London. He didn’t seem angry or hostile. He just seemed… wary.

She stared directly at him. “You’re not surprised I’m here.”

He shrugged. “I heard the carriage arrive.”

“It could have been someone else.”

He cast her an unimpressed glance under thick black eyelashes. “No, it couldn’t.”

She supposed not. Although the possibility existed that since he was no longer considered a disreputable bastard plutocrat, the neighbors had taken him under their wing. Except it was the middle of the night. Except a gale blew. Except Castle Craven was just as eccentric in décor and staffing, and its welcome was as frosty as ever.

She struggled to hold her course. His coolness was
unsettling. As he intended. “You don’t sleep here, do you?”

His smile broadened as though he enjoyed a grim private joke. “How wifely to enquire after my slumbers, my love.”

Sidonie didn’t wince at the sarcastic endearment. She’d expected resentment. So far, she’d got off lightly. He could have had her barred from the house. “Where do you sleep?”

He sipped his wine, his silvery eyes unwavering. She couldn’t read his expression and not only because of the uncertain candlelight. “I don’t sleep much at all.”

What could she say to that? She hadn’t slept much lately either. “Are you going to offer me a glass of wine?”

Over the miles from London, she’d sworn she’d remain stalwart no matter what he said or did. Thank heaven during the last week, the morning sickness that had dogged her so long had ebbed. She’d been such a feeble creature the day they married. No wonder Jonas had abandoned her. If she was strong, if she demanded what she wanted, Jonas couldn’t ignore her. She was his wife, she had rights.

Except now she was here, she didn’t feel nearly as unassailable. She’d forgotten how tall he was, how his presence commanded, how the merest sight of him set her heart beating so fast, she turned giddy with love.

“Of course. I endowed thee with all my worldly goods. That includes my claret.”

She bent her head. “Thank you.”

“Will you join me in the library?”

“Is there nowhere closer?”

“No,” he said shortly and prowled toward the stairs, assuming she’d follow.

Of course she’d follow. She wasn’t letting him out of her sight. He knew what she was up to. There was never the slightest chance he’d misinterpret her reason for encroaching on his exile. So far sardonic remarks kept her at bay. She had no doubt he’d hunt out sharper weapons if she assailed the stony ramparts protecting his emotions. She’d come prepared for the beast to rend her limb from limb.

Arriving so late, there had been a chance of surprising him in bed and an even remoter chance that nature would take its course. Providing nature meant he still wanted her. Her very skin ached for his touch, but perhaps he’d forgotten those radiant moments when they’d joined together so profoundly she didn’t know where he ended and where she began. She swallowed to dislodge the inconvenient lump clogging her throat.

There was a couch in the library. And the desk. All was not yet lost.

In the library, Jonas poured Sidonie’s wine and waved her to a chair. The fire crackling in the hearth indicated he hadn’t retired for the evening. He’d already admitted sleep proved elusive. Despairingly she wished that confession of vulnerability made it a scrap more likely he’d listen to her.

He refilled his glass and wandered to the window to stare broodingly at the stormy sea and sky, lit sporadically with lightning. Sidonie sat and watched his profile, checking minute indications of temper. He looked tired and moody. Over the last days, he’d shored up his defenses. His anger was buried so deep, if she hadn’t known him so well, she wouldn’t have recognized it.

“Tell me why you’re here, Sidonie.” His voice held no trace of the familiar sardonic humor.

She set her untouched wine on a side table. She’d imagined they’d fence with words a little longer. She’d hoped they would. Once she made her play, if she failed, she had nowhere to go but back to London and life without Jonas. God help her, this was more frightening than offering herself to a stranger to save Roberta. The next few minutes threatened to shred her heart and pulverize her soul to ash.

She straightened in her chair, told herself to be brave, and stared directly at Jonas. “I want a real marriage. We can’t have that when you’re hunkered down here like a bear in a cave.”

To her surprise, he smiled faintly. “I see you’ve rediscovered your spirit since the wedding.”

She tilted her chin, although he didn’t look at her but across the blustery landscape. “I intend to fight for you, Jonas. For my sake. And for… our child.”

He took a sip of his wine. “Very laudable, my dear.”

She waited for more but he remained silent.

After a long pause, she frowned. “Is that all you have to say?”

He still didn’t look at her. “Yes, apart from wishing you a safe journey back to London in the morning.”

She flinched. “You’re cruel.”

“No. I merely reiterate what I said last time we were together.” His shoulders tensed as if he forced himself to continue. The betraying gesture bolstered quailing courage. “I’m sorry you traveled so far and in such weather to hear it again. I will never live with you as your husband.”

“I don’t accept that.” Her hands fisted in her lap.

He shrugged. “You will.” He paused again. “Eventually.”

“Jonas, is there no way to solve this?” She longed to be proud and strong, but faced with his intransigence, she couldn’t contain her desperation.

His eyes were flinty as they settled on her. “No.”

He left no room for maneuver or negotiation. Curse him, had she really failed? After all the love and joy and anguish, must she face a future without him? Impetuously she said the one thing she’d sworn she wouldn’t. “But you love me.”

She braced for denial. Instead he smiled again, this time with a hint of warmth. “Of course I love you.”

The swift admission soothed her aching heart like balm, although his calmness negated the statement’s significance. She surged to her feet with sudden hope. “Then we have a chance.”

He shook his head and turned away. “No, we don’t.” His voice deepened into an austerity that fell like acid on her ears. “Not a chance in hell.”

Desolation weighting her stomach, she shifted closer and realized he watched her in the window pane. Reflections had mediated so many of their interactions. It was time for them to meet face to face. “Jonas, I love you. You love me. Why should we be apart?”

She dared to touch his arm. He jerked as though she’d scalded him.

“Don’t.”

“All right.” She lowered her hand, but his violent rejection proved her presence left him far from unmoved. “Answer me.”

His jaw was so tight, it looked as if it might crack. “Because we can’t be together.”

Her frail attempt at dignity dissolved irredeemably.
She spoke in an urgent rush. “I know I hurt you. You can’t imagine how much I’ve regretted what I did. I’m… I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the marriage lines.” Despite her best efforts, her voice broke. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the baby.”

“Sidonie—”

Before he could reject her apology, she hurried on. She had to make him forgive her. She had to. “I’ll never keep secrets again. I’ll never lie or deceive you. I’ll be what you want.”

“You are what I want.” His voice was so low, she strained to hear. “You’ve always been what I want. But living with you will make me wretched. Be kind, sweet Sidonie. Leave me to my solitude.”

Anger vanquished misery. “Your solitude will kill you.”

“Pray God it does,” he said bitterly.

“Don’t send me away.” This time when she touched his forearm, she clung when he tried to withdraw. “Give me a week. That’s all I ask. I gave you a week. A week where we’re lovers as we were before. A week to remind you what we are to each other.”

He remained still under her hand. His pallor indicated how agonizing he found her entreaties. If she’d been one ounce less desperate, she’d back away purely for compassion’s sake. “I don’t need reminding.”

“A week, Jonas.” She moved nearer and breathed deeply of his clean masculine scent. The pain of having him so near yet so far away in any real sense was excruciating.

“You say you love me,” he said as if discussing the weather. But he trembled under her hand as if his blood slowly turned to ice.

She moved close enough for her breasts to brush his arm. “You know I do.”

With ruthless tenderness, he pried her fingers off him. He stepped away and faced her. His skin was ashen and his eyes were flat gray like the sea under rain clouds. “If you love me, you’ll leave. You’ll go back to London and your own life. A life in which I play no part.”

She’d struggled to contain her tears but it was impossible. “You’re the father of my baby. You’ll always be part of my life, whether with me or not.”

“I won’t be with you.” He stepped behind the desk and she recognized he used it as a barrier against her. When he set down his wine, the gesture’s finality slashed at her heart.

She stared into his scarred face, more compelling than mere handsomeness could ever be, and recognized he was immovable. Nothing would change his decision. The strength of character that defied the world’s cruelties turned fatally against her. She’d hurt him too deeply. He wouldn’t allow himself to be vulnerable to her again.

Dear God, she’d failed.

They loved each other but love wasn’t enough.

He must have recognized her surrender because the tension seeped from his shoulders. His voice emerged more naturally. “Sleep in the dressing room. I won’t inflict my presence on you tomorrow.”

Inflict his presence? Didn’t he know his merest word was sweeter than music?

“This is goodbye, then?” she whispered, hoping against hope she’d discern some sign of relenting. There was nothing. Just stern implacability and what looked like impatience to bring this awkward encounter to a swift end.

She’d faced him down in this library once before when he’d been determined to send her away. On that occasion, she’d prevailed. This time it was clear that she’d lost. The knowledge struck like a blow, threatening to knock her to the ground.

“Farewell, Sidonie.”

“Will you… will you kiss me one last time?” she asked shakily.

His flash of irritation made her cringe. “No.”

She approached the desk, clumsily tugging the signet ring from her finger. If they never saw each other again, he should have it. It didn’t belong to her. Very gently, she placed the ring on the blotter before him. The ruby shone like blood against the dark green leather. He didn’t move to touch it, but nor did he suggest she keep it.

For a long time she studied him, imprinting every last detail on her mind. She struggled to tell herself that the war wasn’t over, that she could fight again and perhaps win. She didn’t believe it. “God keep you, Jonas.”

She turned to collect the candelabra and took a step. Another. Her feet felt weighted with lead. The door seemed ten miles away across rocky, difficult terrain. She sucked in a breath and forced herself to take another step.

That’s all she needed. One step after another. This year. Next year. Through a barren lifetime.

One step. Another step. Soon, she’d be in the hall. Then upstairs. Then in the dressing room. Tomorrow she’d head back to empty, echoing Merrick house. It was a purely mathematical issue, surely. Her heart might break but if she kept walking, eventually she’d escape this room.

At last she reached the door. She touched the handle. It turned easily and the door swung open. The world
continued on its clockwork way, even if Sidonie Merrick’s soul was sucked dry and barren as the Sahara.

She fought the urge to turn and beg Jonas to reconsider, to think of their child, to let his love speak rather than his fear that she’d wrong him. Better to retain a shred of pride. Better to leave him with the impression that she was strong enough to endure. Better not to be a pathetic, weeping woman pleading with him to stay with her.

One more step and she’d be in the hall, cold and dark like a foretaste of the coming years. She reached to pull the door shut and heard something. A bump. A thud. But soft. Perhaps only a quiver in the air.

She frowned and turned slowly back toward the library. Jonas stood behind the desk. He was pale, paler than he’d been all night, and that erratic muscle jumped and jerked in his cheek.

“Jonas?” Although what was the point of spinning out the agony?

“Go,” he gritted out. The silver eyes were blind and his right hand fisted so hard around something that it shook. She needed a second to realize the ruby ring no longer lay on the blotter.

“Oh, my beloved,” she said in a raw voice she didn’t recognize. “Don’t do this to yourself.”

In a few swift steps, she covered the distance between them. She set the candelabra on the desk. She’d need both hands to take hold of her destiny.

“Don’t touch me,” he said hoarsely, backing away.

Recklessly he’d let her glimpse his despair. Everything she wanted hovered so close, she could taste it. Abandoning him to his isolation was the worst thing she could do. “It’s too late, my darling. I’m not leaving.”

“You must.”

“You’ve been a fool, Jonas.” Tears blurred her vision and she smiled. “So have I. It’s time to stop this nonsense and start our life together.”

She watched him struggle to repair his defenses. “You make a lot of assumptions.” He stood against the wall now. Unless he pushed her out of the way, he wasn’t going anywhere.