The Delicate Matter of Lady Blayne (19 page)

And she was the most desirable woman he’d ever seen, all tussled golden brown curls, lush strawberry-red lips, glowing ivory skin and soft, decadently delicious curves. The rage he’d felt while imagining Meeker had done away with his erection. His cock begin to rise again, so quickly, so intensely, taking fuel from his anger, sending the blood rushing into his loins. It was a rush of excitement like he’d never known.

He steeled himself against it. “I can’t do it, Sunny.”

“Please.”

Her need rang in the word and it echoed right into his bones. He felt her need, her painful need. Felt it beat right in the core of his being. It beat with the pounding of his own heart and the throb of his erection that strained against his trousers. Could all the self-control in the world overcome such desire as this? He took a deep breath and forced it down. “You must be given time. You’re too vulnerable now.”

He said this firmly, a bit harshly—for himself. So he would understand what he couldn’t have and why. If he accepted her offer, he would be no better than that monster who had abused her. Worse, in fact. He’d be even worse.

He’d be a monster. She nodded but would not look at him. “I supposed it would be too much to ask. You have a busy life, you are such an important man that—”

“Hush!” he ordered.

Her eyes popped open and she flinched. He had spoken too sharply. But the bleak acceptance in her voice had been squeezing his heart. “Now you listen to me.” He heard the hoarseness in his voice.

She stared at him with that bleak, disappointed yet accepting gaze, as though she’d known nothing but disappointments her whole life.

“Are you listening?” he repeated.

She nodded, slowly.

“Tell me that you are listening,” he demanded softy.

“I am listening.”

“All that tripe that Meeker gave you about you needing to be fixed, it wasn’t true, Sunny. There’s nothing wrong with you.”

“I am broken. Hopelessly broken.”

Rage poured into his blood like water into boiling oil. His jaw tightened to the point where he could barely work his mouth to speak. “Meeker lied. He was manipulating you. He manipulated Aunt Frances as well.”

Her hand slipped from his. He was too consumed with hatred of Meeker to focus clearly. He feared saying more. Feared he would speak too sharply or reveal the depth of his hate and frighten her.

“You have to understand.” Her soft voice cut into his thoughts.

“What must I understand?” he said, carefully parsing his words.

“He is not evil.”

James twisted his mouth. “He’s the devil himself.”

“No, he’s a brilliant doctor. His ideas are revolutionary.”

“Indeed?”

“Yes, his work and that of his associates will change the face of medicine.”

James tapped his fingers on his thigh, clenching his jaw tight so as to hold his tongue. He took several deep, deep, deep breaths, pacing them out, trying to control his inner rage.

She kept on speaking, her eyes glowing with what must be an idealistic respect for that devil of a doctor. “He could succeed with the right woman. But with me, well, he’s just misguided. He said he wanted to help. He cares for me but he hurts me. However, I do no’ think he intends to.” James had come to a sort of inner equilibrium, at least enough to trust his tongue again. “He says whatever he thinks you want or need to hear. He seeks to keep you uncertain of yourself.”

“No, he’s really trying to help, but he’s the wrong man to do it. I mean he’s wrong for me. It is my failing. No’ his.”

“He doesn’t want you better. He seeks a never-ending source of income. I tell you that you are not broken. You just need rest and time away from those who have manipulated you. Time to regain your bearings.”

“If I was no’ so broken, Robert would no’ have been able to dupe me with that drugged tea.”

“Why do you say that?”

“I noticed him.”

“
Noticed
him?” The words were forced from him before he could think. But she had made the word ‘noticed’ sound worse than if she’d run the young valet through with a dirk. He frowned. “What the devil does that mean?”

“He is no’ ill-favored and when he reached into his pocket for your note, I noticed his…” She paused, threaded her fingers together and flexed her hands. “I noticed his midsection.”

“You found him attractive?” He struggled to stay objective. But inside, a sudden surge of jealousy burnt through him. Robert was a pretty lad, everyone had always noted it. And Sunny had a past preference for those beneath her. Being reminded of it disturbed James all over again. It was a petty thing to focus on, especially given the gravity of their conversation up to this point.

Yet, he was jealous. Bitterly so.

But was it so wrong of her? Noblemen had been finding their pleasure and love with the lower classes since…well, since there had been noblemen.

Yet, this little confession of hers was a disturbing reminder that the new, all-grown-up Sunny was an exceptionally sensual creature who was capable of finding an outlet for her energies.

A peculiar queasiness twisted through his gut.

Burning. Intense. Pure jealousy.

He gaped at her and saw, not the lush, sensual, beautiful woman before him but the Sunny who lived in his memories, her slender body dressed in white sprigged muslin, her narrow waist adorned with a bright, cheerful yellow sash. She’d sat by his sickbed and fed him licorices. She had greeted his jests with her soft, musical laugh, and her large green eyes had clung to his adoringly, making him feel that every word he spoke was the most interesting thing she’d ever heard. She had read to him from the Bible, her gentle voice comforting him when he was unable sleep, and her thin, elfin face had contorted with sympathy for his pain. He had placed her on a pedestal within his heart where no other woman, not even his own mother, had ever dwelt.

He had loved her.

Loved her even when she’d made it clear there was no hope.

Oh, his bonny, girlish Sunny! He didn’t wish to hear about her lusts for other men. Didn’t wish to have his last remaining fantasies of her purity shattered.

“James?”

However, he knew that his wish that she not do anything to further disturb his memories of her purity was neither reasonable nor kind. She seemed to have a strong need to confess her “sins,” and no one else she could trust to do so with.

Somehow it had fallen to him to play the role of her protector and her confessor.

He, the man least able to cope with the shattering of her innocence.

Stop being selfish! She needs you. Be what she needs.

He took more deep breaths then focused on what he needed to say. “It’s normal for a woman to notice a man,” he said, feeling an uneasy tightness in his throat. He didn’t want her to notice anyone but him…

What foolish vanity! He’d never before seen himself as a vain man. Or an unreasonable one. Oh, but she had the ability to reveal these unflattering sides to himself.

“I tried not to notice him.” Her soft voice sliced into him like sharpened nails. “But then, I could no’ be sure I didn’t find him too attractive. I worried that I had been too encouraging.”

Heat flashed through James’ blood, bitter and yellow-green tinged madness. By God, if he hadn’t already dismissed the young man for today’s betrayal, he would have dismissed him for having been too forward with Sunny.

For Robert must have crossed some line. What else could have triggered her strong reaction to the young valet?

Instantly, the anger turned to himself. For years now, he had commanded men and made impersonal decisions each day. Never had he had an impulse to respond in a punitive fashion towards an underling for such base, personal reasons.

It was unworthy of a gentleman.

Yet the jealousy remained. Smoldering, and making him feel that he couldn’t trust his emotions or his thoughts. To say nothing of his reactions.

He just wished to end the conversation.

“I doubt you were too encouraging,” he said, hearing the terseness in his voice and being unable to soften it.

She flinched slightly.

He winced inside. He had just failed her, made her ashamed to have spoken of the matter.

Damn.

She moved to the other seat and spent a long time staring out the window at the dark night. He fancied he could feel the intensity of her thoughts and emotions crackling on the air.

And the whole time, he kept struggling with the urge to go to her. To grab her and kiss her breathless. To drive from her mind any and all thoughts of handsome footmen, valets and coachmen and any other type of man living on this earth.

****

Sunny left off chewing the tough mutton in favor of bolting it, but the tallow hung in her throat, thick and sticky. An urge to gag overwhelmed her. She grabbed her glass, lifted it to her lips and gulped the somewhat bitter wine, frantic to wash the stew down.

When she lowered her empty glass, the rancid back taste remained. She suppressed a grimace and glanced up at James.

He had eaten methodically, seeming not to notice how dreadful the stew and wine were. Maybe having been so many years in the Navy, he was accustomed to horrid food. Sunny was not. Even with her stomach still achingly empty, she put down her glass.

He didn’t notice. His gaze was distant, his expression stony.

So he had been since she had confessed her bad behavior with Robert. She didn’t know if he were disappointed in her for the lapse with the valet, or if he were irritated with her for bringing the matter up at all.

He was an important man. He had spent years as a commander of a fleet of ships-of-the-line during wartime. Now he was a Scottish baron. Soon to be an English earl. Her pathetic problems must seem insignificant to him. The enforced leisure of traveling by carriage, enduring miles and miles of sitting with nothing to do, must also be a hardship.

She hadn’t been able to make him care enough for her to take Dr. Meeker’s place. Not completely.

Hopelessness settled into her stomach, increasing the ache there. She put her hand over it, rubbing gently. She glanced down at the wood trencher, at the congealing stew. Queasiness twisted through her and she jerked her gaze away.

James exhaled deeply, drawing her attention. “I am sorry, they usually do much better here.” He frowned. “Or perhaps my taste was too much dulled by food at sea.” He compressed his lips. “I should have been more sensitive to your needs. I am sorry. I am unaccustomed to the needs of ladies.”

The needs of ladies.
Ladies!
Why did he insist on seeing her that way? She had needs, real needs, but they weren’t those of a lady.

His frown deepened. “Sunny, are you all right? You look a bit peaked.”

She rolled one shoulder. “It’s late. I just need sleep.”

He considered her a moment, his expression softening for the first time in hours. “Could you eat something else? Pie?”

The thick sickness of the tallow returned to her throat. Or was it dryness? Her stomach lurched and bitter acid rose in her throat. She swallowed it back and shook her head.

“You must have something. We didn’t eat all day.”

She shook her head more firmly.

His dark brows drew together and he reached behind him and rang for the maid.

“I really just wish to find my bed now.” And to pull the covers over her head.

“You need something in your stomach first.” He nodded at her empty glass. “Else all that wine you drank will make you ill.”

A knock sounded at the door of their private dining chamber. James called for the maid to enter. But this time it was not the maid.

It was the rather handsome young man who had seen to their baggage earlier. His ginger-blond hair gleamed in the candlelight. His bulky homespun coat and trousers couldn’t disguise a tall and lean-muscled form.

At a brush on her shoulder, Sunny looked up.

James took the edges of her pelisse and jerked them closed. Then he sat back in his seat.

Sunny jerked her gaze down to the trencher and listened to James order a cup of coffee and a bowl of oat porridge with milk and honey.

Her heart hammered like thunder against her rib cage. She had forgotten. How could she possibly have forgotten that underneath her pelisse, she wore only the shift that Mrs. Tibbs had stripped her down to at Blayne House?

Dr. Meeker had warned that her inner wickedness would lead to “slips” like this. But it was no slip.

She was a temptress of the worst sort.

“Take this nauseating mess away,” James said tersely.

“Of course, sir.” The young man came close and began lifting the trenchers. He had apparently forgotten to don his gloves. Perhaps he’d been mucking it out in the stables? Or getting ready for his bed when he’d been called to serve them. His large hands were tanned, with rustic looking knuckles. The backs sprinkled with pale reddish hairs. Very masculine hands.

Sunny closed her eyes tightly, wishing she had not noticed.