The Matchmaker (25 page)

Drawing a deep breath, her fingers tightening in his without her knowledge, she said, "Perhaps we can see
Paris someday. I'd like that. But for now.
.."

He lifted her hand and kissed it. "Good. Spring is the
best time to travel anyway. Besides, we have a house going up outside the city, and you're going to be very
busy in the next few weeks choosing paint, wallpaper,
and rugs, among other things."

"I am? But—" She broke off, staring at him.

He looked at her gravely for a moment, then said
quietly, "I know you haven't had time to think, sweet
heart, and I know I said I wouldn't press you. But I've
never felt more strongly about anything in my life. We
belong together. Take a chance on me, please. Marry
me."

"You don't know what you're asking," she whispered.

"Yes, I do. I know the idea of another marriage
terrifies you. I know you've been hurt so much you can't
imagine not being hurt again. I know you dare not trust
me, even though you want to. And I know I'm asking
you to have more courage than you think you possess."

He did understand. She felt she was lost somewhere in those intense, beautiful black eyes, caught and held
by a gentle grip she didn't want to fight. Everything in her, every thought, instinct, and muted emotion felt the
pull of him so strongly, it was actually painful to resist. A
dull ache swelled inside her, growing moment by mo
ment as she remembered the astonishing pleasure she'd
found in his arms, his passion and gentleness, his care of
her.

"I love you, Julia. Will you marry me?"

"Yes," she said breathily, and the dull ache inside her immediately faded, replaced by
a growing
warmth. She was still frightened, still acutely aware of the risk she was taking, but her deep and certain understanding that she already belonged to him was too powerful to fight or
deny.

"Thank you," Cyrus said huskily, kissing her hand again. "You won't regret it, I swear."

A little bemused, she shook her head. "You have the
most unfair eyes," she murmured.

He grinned suddenly, the first time she'd ever seen
him do so, and his lean, handsome face revealed such
delight, she couldn't help smiling back at him.

"Tate always said I was sired by a warlock; maybe he
was right. I've known for weeks it would take some kind
of magic to win you, love." He laughed softly, then
released her hand and said, "If you don't eat, Mrs. Stork will scold both of us."

Mildly surprised, Julia looked at her steaming coffee
and the covered dishes that were no doubt still warm. It had been another of those interludes that had seemed to
stop time, she realized, as if everything around them had
waited patiently for Cyrus and her to come to an
understanding. She thought it was peculiar.
Very pecu
liar.

She unfolded her napkin across her lap and sent him a
slightly shy look. "I'm not really hungry."

"You have to eat to keep up your strength," he said solemnly, a gentle laugh in his eyes. "You're going to need it."

"Why?" she asked warily.

"Because," he said, sitting back and lifting his coffee cup in a toast, "I'm about to try to persuade you to marry me next week."

All during the remainder of the day Julia had the
strangest feeling she was being gently but inexorably
carried along by forces determined to shape her life.
Cyrus was only the beginning, very reasonably arguing against her scruples until her own arguments seemed
weak and uncertain. He never once scoffed at her
principles or belittled them in any
way,
he merely
maintained that since her marriage had been a travesty and her husband a brutal lunatic, she owed no respect or consideration to either.

It was difficult for her to disagree on those grounds, but she tried because she was frightened. Society's condemnation was only a small worry, and one she had already decided wasn't as important as she'd believed; marriage itself was what terrified her, and though she'd agreed to marry him, she badly needed time to get used
to the idea. He knew that, she thought, but remained
gently insistent she marry him as soon as possible. He
didn't demand an immediate answer, but at various
times all day he continued to try to persuade her.

She was kept too busy to pay much attention to the frequent rattle of the door knocker as the butler turned away newspapermen and other curious visitors throughout the day. Packages continued to arrive full of beautiful clothing for her and Lissa. No matter how strongly she protested to Cyrus that he shouldn't be buying clothing for them, he just laughed and kissed her.

He kissed her often. He touched her a great deal as well, touches that were casual and yet curiously intimate
in their manner. He couldn't seem to be near her
without taking her hand, brushing a strand of hair away from her face, or putting an arm around her—and quite
clearly didn't care who happened to be present to
witness his actions.

Julia was a little stiff at first, but it didn't last long. She
couldn't help feeling warmed by his affection and tentatively reassured by it. She even stopped blushing when
ever Lissa, Mr. or Mrs. Stork, or one of the other
servants happened to observe a kiss or embrace.

She couldn't quite bring herself to feel the unshad
owed enjoyment Lissa obviously found in trying on new
clothes, but she didn't try to curb her sister's cheerful
ness. She tried on a few things herself when Cyrus went
out after their late lunch, choosing that particular mo
ment only because Lissa insisted she should and because
Julia wanted to spend a little time alone with her sister
in her—and Cyrus's—bedroom so they could talk.

The master suite itself was a little changed since
morning, a fact that surprised Julia and gave her food for
thought. She didn't know the extent of Cyrus's participation in making the arrangements, but a second ward
robe had been brought into the bedroom for her
clothing, and a dressing table complete with satin-
cushioned boudoir chair now occupied a prominent
place in the dressing room. There was also a set of silver-backed brushes obviously for her, as well as a selection of perfumes and bath salts. Fresh flowers in
delicate crystal vases graced the table by the window and
her dressing table.

Julia realized only then that Cyrus had been unobtrusively busy all day making her transition into his home as smooth and comfortable as possible for her. He had
made certain she wasn't disturbed by the shocked and curious world outside the house, and had kept her
attention occupied with her sister and the activities of sorting through boxes and packages while he had dealt with other practical matters. She thought he had talked
to the police again, as well as Adrian's—and his— attorney, but she wasn't sure.

In any case, it was obvious he had assumed responsi
bility for her and Lissa's welfare as well as making certain
both felt entirely comfortable and welcome in his home.

"Oh, Julia, look at this! Isn't it beautiful?" Lissa had opened one of the boxes on the bed, and held up a stunning emerald green evening gown.

"Lovely," Julia agreed, hanging in the wardrobe the
golden gown she'd just taken off She was careful not to
turn her back to Lissa except when buttons had to be
fastened, and even then took pains to show as little of
herself as possible; the scars were faint, she knew,
especially on her upper back, but she didn't want Lissa
to notice them.

"Sarah and Cathy have wonderful taste," Lissa said, holding the gown up to
herself
as she stood before the
dressing mirror in the corner and studied the effect.
"And since Cathy's a redhead like us, she knows what
colors just won't do."

"Nothing black," Julia said almost to herself, suddenly
realizing this as she gazed at the colorful garments hanging in the wardrobe and tumbled on the bed.

Lissa turned from the mirror, her expression more
serious than it had been all afternoon. "I told Cyrus I
wouldn't wear black for Adrian, and he said he didn't
want to see you do so either. So I told the girls not to buy
anything black, not even a skirt."

Julia sat down on the edge of the bed and looked at her sister gravely. "Something else for people to talk about,"
she murmured.

After a moment Lissa hung the emerald gown in the
wardrobe and then returned to sit on the bed across from
her sister. Her pretty young face was still sober. "Is that so important, Julia? I mean, I know it's supposed to be,
but is it? All those people who look and talk don't know
anything. They can't. They didn't live with Adrian. They
didn't see the life bleeding out of you because of him.
They didn't see you stay in bed for a whole day, so white
and silent."

"Lissa—"

"You think I haven't noticed, since we've been in here,
that you don't want me to see your back? I—" Tears
glittered in Lissa's
eyes,
and her voice broke for a
moment with an anguished sound. Then she was going on fiercely, "I hate myself for not realizing, for being fooled by him just like everyone else was! He hurt you so
badly, and I didn't know. You should have told me,
Julia—you must have been
terrified,
and hurt so often—
you should have told me—"

Julia quickly went around the bed and sat down beside
her weeping sister, putting her arms around Lissa
gently. "I didn't want you to know, honey," she soothed.
"There was nothing you could have done. It's all right."

"No, it isn't," Lissa said huskily, dashing a hand across
her eyes as she tried to get control of herself. "I should
have known, but I was blind and I didn't see what he
was."

"No one saw," Julia murmured.

"Except you."
Lissa looked at her, the wet green eyes filled with an implacable loathing. "I'm glad he's dead. I
hope he suffered the way he made you suffer."

"Lissa—"

"I mean it, Julia. I won't even pretend to grieve for
him. I won't wear black, I won't go to his funeral, and if anyone offers their sympathies to me, I'll tell them I
hope he's burning in hell!"

It occurred to Julia dimly as she looked into her sister's
hate-filled eyes that she herself hadn't been able to
release the wild anger and bitter loathing trapped inside her because she hadn't even allowed herself to feel those emotions. Adrian had made her so aware of shame and humiliation, had branded them so deeply into her soul, she hadn't been able to blame him for the pain he had inflicted on her.

It was the worst thing he had done to her, and she
realized it only then.

She drew a slow, deep breath, and her voice was both surprised and softly angry when she said, "You're right,
Lissa. I've done nothing wrong. It was he. He was an
animal; that's still the truth even though he's dead. I hate him for what he did to me, and I won't lie about that. I won't pretend. Not for one more moment."

Lissa hugged her tightly. "And don't let it be a secret
you're afraid to talk about. If nobody talks about such
horrible things, how will decent people ever know that
men like Adrian exist and have to be stopped?" She
pulled back a little and stared at her sister intently.

Julia felt a twinge of mortification at the idea of her
bedroom door being flung open to the public—or any small part of it—but fought the emotion as hard as she
could. "I did nothing wrong," she whispered vehemently, struggling to convince herself. "I have nothing to be ashamed of."

"Absolutely nothing," Lissa agreed flatly. "Julia, if the
people we know want to go on being blind to uncom
fortable truths, let them. But don't help them. Don't
make it easy for them to cling to their stupid, sacrosanct
rules as if pain and suffering don't matter as long as
they're kept behind closed doors."

Somewhat to her surprise, Julia heard a shaken laugh
escape her. "I had no idea you could be so articulate."

Lissa looked startled, then rather proud. "Neither did
I
. But ever since we talked—gosh, was it only
yesterday?—about how the laws are so hideously unfair to women, I've been thinking about it. Something has to be done!"

"Maybe you'll be the one to do it," Julia murmured, realizing she had underestimated her sister's intelligence. "But for now, why don't you finish trying on your
things while I put the rest of mine away?"

"All right."
Lissa got up, then paused and looked almost pleadingly down at her. "Cyrus loves you, Julia,
and that's as real as anything you can touch.
He's... he's a very special man, I think. He could
make you so happy. Don't run from the life he could give
you because you don't think you deserve it."