You Only Love Twice (36 page)

“What? All of them were going to punish my father?”

Ellie shook her head. “No, they drew straws to see which one would do it.”

“They drew straws,” said Jessica.

Ellie was too innocent to understand the significance of what she’d just revealed.
They talked about calling him out or horsewhipping him or something
. It was the “or something” they had finally settled on. And they’d drawn straws to see who should do it.

In her mind’s eye, she could see the scene in the barn as if she’d been Ellie. She would have been looking through the open trapdoor. How handsome and debonair those young men newly returned from the war would have appeared in a young girl’s eyes. How noble and honorable. They would have talked in a civilized way. Ellie would never have understood the innuendos. And if something had struck an odd note, she wouldn’t have believed it.

They considered themselves honorable men, Jessica supposed. They’d held fast to their pact. They’d provided for Ellie. They’d also provided for her. But they wouldn’t have provided for her unless they’d thought she had a claim on them. It didn’t take much imagination to figure out what that claim was. Why hadn’t she seen it before?

Now she understood the letter from Lucas’s attorney. When Lucas had married her, he’d become her sole protector and provider. That’s why he’d paid off his friends.

She didn’t feel any strong emotion—no anger or revulsion or fear. She supposed that most people would think that justice had been served. A wicked man had met with his just deserts. If she felt revulsion, it was for her father.
Her regret and compassion were for the poor girl who had suffered at his hands.

Looking up, she said, “Who got the short straw, Ellie?”

Ellie shook her head. “I don’t know.”

“It was Lucas, wasn’t it?” said Jessica gently.

Misery swam in Ellie’s eyes. “Yes,” she whispered.

Another revelation that had no power to shock her. She’d already made that connection, too. The words came easily. “Don’t look so worried, Ellie. Nothing came of it. There was no duel. Lucas did not horsewhip my father. My father had many enemies. Obviously, someone else got to him first.”

Ellie’s face cleared, and she let out a long, shivery sigh. “Does anyone else know what you’ve told me?” asked Jessica.

“No. I couldn’t tell anyone in case …” Ellie swallowed. “If Jane drowned herself—if she did it deliberately—well, she couldn’t be buried in the church graveyard.”

“I don’t know who makes up these stupid rules, but I’m sure God will punish them in His own good time. I’m glad you told me about Jane. All the same, I think we should keep it to ourselves, not only for Jane’s sake, but also for Lucas’s.”

Ellie cried passionately. “I would never do anything to hurt Lucas, Jessica.”

“I know, dear, I know. And neither would I.”

“You won’t tell him that I told you, will you, Jessica? I mean, it sounds as though I meant to betray him, and I never would.”

“No, I won’t tell him. As I said, it will be our little secret. Now, let’s get you into bed.”

After she’d put Ellie to bed, she prowled through the house like a restless cat, reviewing in her mind everything she’d learned from Ellie. At first, she could think of nothing
but Jane Bragge and the torments she must have suffered before she’d taken her own life. And the more she thought of Jane, the more she despised her own father.

Yet, she could not condone what Lucas had done, though she could understand it. He’d been a soldier. After the carnage at Waterloo, where so many of England’s brightest and best had perished, what could the life of one wicked, wicked man mean to him?

Her one comfort was that this was an isolated case that could never be repeated. It was over and done with. It was in the past. There was no reason to fear for the future.

But it wasn’t one isolated case. Rodney Stone was missing, and no one knew what had happened to him.

“No,” she whispered despairingly. “Lucas isn’t my Voice.”

But she didn’t believe her own words.

CHAPTER
23

I
t was a little after midnight when Lucas arrived home. He walked into his library and suddenly halted. Jessica was curled up on the sofa fast asleep. There was a fire burning low in the grate and several candles were still lit.

He stood for a moment or two, silently contemplating her. Ever since he’d received an express letter from Perry early that morning, he’d checked and rechecked every inconsequential piece of information he had on Rodney Stone, and now his mood was dangerously brittle. On almost every point, Jess had been right. She’d known more about Stone than his own aunt and his friends. There had to be a reason for her knowing so much, and the only reason that came to him was that she had known Stone from before. Then why hadn’t she told him?

He crossed to a tray of decanters on a side table and poured himself a measure of brandy. Then he turned to stare at Jessica again. Candlelight softly gilded her skin. Her hair was in disarray and long wanton threads of gold
clung to her cheeks and throat. The lace kerchief that she’d decorously tucked into the edges of her low-cut bodice had parted, revealing the creamy swell of her breasts.

So much loveliness and innocence had always had the power to stir his protective instincts, even in the act of love. Especially in the act of love.

He took a second long swallow from the glass in his hand, and his lips flattened. He didn’t want to protect her, not now. He wanted to take her, possess her, master her, so that she would learn once and for all that he had some rights where she was concerned. He was her husband. He wasn’t her pet dog to be coddled or distracted as the mood struck her.

It rankled that she hadn’t been completely honest with him.

His third swallow emptied his glass and he set it down on the table with a jarring snap. Jessica’s lashes quivered, and she slowly opened her eyes.

Levering herself on one elbow, she looked around the room in a daze, and her eyes came to rest on Lucas.

“What time is it?” she asked drowsily and drew herself up.

There was no answer.

Something about his silence struck an odd note, and she shook off her languor. He was staring at her with such intensity that her breath caught. This was Lucas, the man she loved, yet she hardly recognized him. Though it was warm in front of the fire, her blood chilled. He couldn’t possibly know what she’d learned from Ellie. Then why was he looking at her with that hard, set look on his face?

She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move. His inflexible dark stare seemed to pin her in place. She had to say something to break the unnerving silence that bound them together, but the words that formed on her tongue died unsaid. A shiver that had nothing to do with fear
passed over her. And knowledge as old as Eve began to seep into her.

He must have seen something in her eyes for there was a subtle change in him. His eyelids drooped, and a faint smile softened the harsh line of his mouth. Then he began to remove his neckcloth. After tossing it on the nearest chair, he threw off his coat and started on the buttons of his waistcoat. “Lucas—”

“No. No words, Jess. I’ve gone beyond that.”

Her heart lurched when he crossed to the sofa. His breathing was audible and his nostrils were flared. And still those burning eyes held her as securely as any bonds. It flashed through her mind that if she tried to escape him he would stop her. He was out of control, an irresistible force bent on overwhelming her.

The naked hunger in his eyes ignited an answering hunger in her. Excitement speared through her, and she slowly sank back on her elbows. Only then did he release her from his stare.

His gaze dropped to her parted lips, then moved over her slowly, lingering on the pulse at her throat, her breasts and the long sweep of her legs entangled in her skirts. When he went down on his haunches beside her, she stifled a moan at the back of her throat.

In a low, driven tone, he told her that he was done with allowing her to have everything her own way. She was made for him, made for this. As he disrobed her, he told her in husky, broken whispers that this was how he wanted her, open and vulnerable to him, helpless to deny him anything. And she
was
helpless, as he proved over and over again. Her body had become an instrument for their mutual pleasure, and he knew just how to play it. It was a long, long time before he bore her down to the carpeted floor, then, quickly rising, he stripped out of his clothes.

Breathless and dazed by so much passion, she gazed up
at him. There was a moment of profound silence as their eyes locked. He held himself perfectly still, and it came to her that while she shamelessly reveled in his lovemaking, he was having second thoughts.

“Lucas,” she whispered, holding her arms out to him.

As if it were the signal he’d been waiting for, he came down on top of her. There was a moment when she savored the press of his weight, then he drove into her with such ferocity that they both cried out. His kisses were desperate; his hands urgent, and she gave herself up to him without reservation.

“Lucas,” she whispered as she felt the power of him fill her whole world, just as he filled her body. Thoughts raced through her mind, but she refused to be swayed by them. She didn’t care who or what he was. She didn’t care what he had done. She would protect him. She loved him. She loved him.
Lucas
, she thought,
Lucas
, and her throat tightened.

At the end, when her body shattered under the driving pressure of his, it seemed that her heart shattered also. Her shoulders began to heave in great, shuddering sobs, and she dissolved in a flood of tears.

He pulled from her and scooped her into his arms. “Jess, sweetheart, don’t take on so. I didn’t mean to frighten you.” With his back against the sofa, he held her curled into him, her head angled against his shoulder. His hands ran over her ceaselessly, and he pressed chaste kisses to her brow, her eyes, her cheeks. “I thought you understood. I thought it was what you wanted, too.”

He didn’t know where the soothing words were coming from, but he knew he wasn’t telling her the whole truth. He hadn’t wanted to frighten her so much as get her attention. He’d wanted to let her know that he was a force to be reckoned with. The trouble was, he’d let things go too far.

“It doesn’t have to be that way,” he said softly. “I can be as gentle and restrained a lover as you want me to be.”

Her tears dried and she tilted her head to look up at him. “I did understand,” she said. “It was what I wanted because it’s what
you
wanted. And you didn’t frighten me, Lucas,” then as an afterthought, “well, only a little, at first.”

He expelled a pent-up breath. “Then why the tears?” And dipping his head, he kissed one errant tear at the corner of her mouth.

“Because …” She turned her head slightly and their lips met.

“Because?” He cupped the back of her neck with one hand to hold her in place. His lips brushed hers, no more than a gentle pressure. “Because?” he repeated softly.

Because she loved him. Because she feared the past and was terrified of the future. But she couldn’t tell him anything. “Because … I didn’t know it could be like this.” She paused. “It was awesome.” And that was the truth. “You were awesome. Because …” She sucked in a breath when she felt his hand on her breast, then she moaned as his fingers plucked one nipple erect, then the other.

“Because?” he prompted.

“Lucas,” she said weakly, “what are you doing?”

His hands on her flanks had eased her into position astride his lap. “I’m making love to my wife,” he said, “the way it’s supposed to be.”

He lavished her with slow, easy caresses and words that made her heart sing. “I love you,” he said. “I love you, Jess.”

She gave him back the words he wanted, the words she ached to say. “I love you, too, Lucas. I love you.” It was almost perfect.

“So what do you wish to say to me?” she asked.

They were sitting at the little table in her parlor, now dressed in their night robes, drinking tea. Lucas had let her know he had something particular he wished to say to
her, and that if they went to bed, he feared he would never get around to talking. He said this with a roguish grin, but she wasn’t fooled. Lucas detested tea, so this must be serious.

“No,” said Lucas, grimacing as the concoction he always referred to in his mind as “mare’s water” passed over his tongue. “You first. You waited up for me. Why?”

She took a reviving sip of tea before answering. “I had this idea,” she said, “and I couldn’t wait to share it with you.” She paused, going over the little speech she had rehearsed in her mind while she’d waited for him to come home.

“And?”

She tried to sound both animated and eager. “You suggested once that we should go to Paris for our honeymoon.”

“And you said you didn’t want to go anywhere.”

“Well, I’ve changed my mind, only … I want to do more than see Paris. What’s to stop us spending, oh, six months on the Continent or longer, you know, making the grand tour?”

“You want to leave England.”

“Well, I want to see the world. I’m such a provincial, Lucas. I feel out of place with your sophisticated friends. A grand tour would broaden my experience, be a real education.”

He took another sip of tea. “How odd,” he said. “Everyone seems to be talking about visiting the Continent. You. My mother. Bella. I wonder whether Ellie would like to go, too?”

“It wouldn’t surprise me. Lucas, you may find this hard to believe, but Ellie and I are friends now.” And she gave him a judiciously edited account of the day’s events.

She spoke mostly to his back. He was at the tea trolley and had found the decanter of sherry that was kept on the bottom shelf. When he held it up to her she shook her head. He rejoined her at the table. To cover a sudden
attack of nerves, Jessica reached for the teapot and refilled her cup.

He said abruptly, “How soon do you wish to leave England, Jess?”

A wrong note if ever she’d heard one. “As soon as possible.”