Chapter Thirty-Five
It was several hours later before James could get his wife alone. He wanted to drag her to bed the moment they got back, but he knew she would not be able to rest until she was certain everyone was safe and sound.
She has been through a terrorizing ordeal, he reminded himself when she decided to fix her cousin her special posset. Once more, he could not help but admire the amazing woman he had married. In what had to be one of the single most frightful ordeals of her entire life, she had not fallen apart, but fought back valiantly. She had not displayed a daring courage they wrote sonnets about, nor had she found a blazing sword in which to vanquish her enemies.
She had, quite simply, been her wonderful self. She had annoyed, provoked, tended and, when all else failed, lost her temper. She was wonderful. She was amazing.
And she loved him. She’d said it twice now. He would never permit her to rescind it.
When she came into her room, she was frowning.
“What is the matter, sweet?” he inquired tenderly.
She shook her head. She was still puzzling over Anna’s peculiar behavior wherever her cousin was concerned. Annalise blushed at the mere mention of his name and became irritable. She wasn’t talking about what had passed between the two of them, and neither was Elliot. Given, her cousin was not sensible at the moment, considering the doctor had prescribed an opiate to help with the pain.
“I was just thinking,” she said simply.
James smiled. He cupped her face in his hands and kissed the tip of her nose. “So was I. Do you know what I was thinking about?”
She shook her head.
“I was thinking about taking you to bed,” he purred.
To his surprise, she turned away. Gently, he cupped her shoulders and forced her to face him. With the tip of his finger, he tilted her head up. “What is it?”
“I am not particularly in the mood for sex,” she told him.
“Making love,” he corrected firmly.
To his dismay, tears filled her eyes. Wrapping his arms around her, he held her close. “Darling, what is the matter?”
“I am overemotional,” she sniffed miserably.
“It is no wonder, with all that has happened. Anyone would become overset with a crazed woman trying to kill off her family.”
Daphne wiped at her tears and pulled out of his arms. She began to pace. Patiently, James sat down on the edge of the bed, waiting her out.
“She wasn’t just some crazed madwoman,” Daphne told him stiffly.
“She was your maid,” he said quietly.
Shaking her head, Daphne paced and told him about the journal she had discovered. He listened intently, never interrupting until she finally slumped her shoulders in relief. She hadn’t realized how much it bothered her that her father had known about this all these years.
And never told her.
“Sweetheart, none of this was your fault,” James said worriedly.
Daphne stared at him. “He knew… All this time, he knew and he never said a word to me. I trusted him to confide in me.”
“Who?” James wanted to know.
“My father,” she whispered sadly.
“Perhaps he thought he was protecting you.”
She sent him a dark glare. “Is that what you do?”
Ouch. “Perhaps,” James hedged nervously.
“See, you’re doing it again. She said you…you denied her, so why were you so obsessed with the Incomparable Miss Saint James?”
James took a quick breath. “I recognized her as Darcie,” he admitted. “I was trying to discover what was going on, Daphne. Did you think I did not realize someone was trying to kill you?”
She flushed. “But you didn’t tell me! I went through hell thinking you took her to your bed.”
He lifted a brow. “Perhaps I did not tell you for the same reason you did not tell me about your little investigation.”
She flushed. “That was different.”
James took her hands and drew her between his legs. Slowly, with infinite care, he kissed her scratched knuckles.
“I did not tell you about my suspicions because I did not wish to worry you.”
She blinked back tears. “I thought you had chosen her over me.”
He rubbed his thumbs over her knuckles tenderly. “I’m sorry I put you through that, sweetheart. If you had trusted me—”
She stared deep into his eyes. “I do trust you, James.”
“I would never hurt you,” he promised.
But you do, she thought. Every single day.
As though he’d read her mind, he asked, “What is it?”
“You do not trust me.”
“I trust you implicitly, Daphne. What makes you say such a thing?”
She gulped. “You will not tell me anything of your life. I told you all about my childhood and the boarding school and…and absolutely everything, James! You share nothing of your life with me.”
“Not because I do not trust you, sweetheart, never believe that! You are a creature of light, Daphne.”
Her dark eyes burned as though lit with an inner fire. “What is that supposed to mean?” she shrieked.
James wrapped his arms around her waist and drew her into his lap. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and stared deep into his eyes. What she saw there made her heart gallop in her chest.
He was vulnerable.
“Daphne, only the best the world has to offer should ever touch you. You are all that is light and good and pure and I…am not. I would never, ever damage you.”
She shook her head. “James, you are not making sense!”
“Daphne, I did not have a happy childhood,” he began.
“No one has a happy childhood, James,” she interrupted, her voice filled with disbelief. “I did not particularly have a happy childhood. I simply choose to focus on the happier memories.”
“Daphne, you could never understand how it was for me,” he ground out, releasing her so he could turn away. “I was a disappointment to my parents. I-I do not speak clearly any time I am nervous or upset. My parents allowed my tutors to beat me whenever I stumbled over my words.”
Eyes wide, Daphne touched his shoulder. He shrugged her touch away. He did not want her pity or compassion.
“My parents were nothing like your father. I was not a child born of affection, only a duty to family name and title. I was a thing,” he ended on a growl.
“You were a child,” she soothed gently.
“Not to them. All they cared about was title and wealth. They lived separate lives, Daphne. Mother had her discreet lovers. Father…” He shook his head in shame. “He was not so discreet. I hated them. As a child, I felt nothing but hatred for those who made me.”
“I am sorry, James.”
“I don’t want your pity,” he barked. “Why should I tell you such things and have you look at me with sadness? You were made for joy. I am neither a happy or good man. I did things during the wars, Daphne, that I cannot forgive myself for. I have killed blindly, even eagerly, and I know I would do so again.”
He hurt, deep inside, she realized for the first time. He would never admit it to her, but she could all but hear him screaming as he thought back over these painful memories. She did not know if she could do or say anything that could help him.
But she would try.
Sadly, she wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed her cheek between the wide expanse of his back.
“Do you expect to beat your children?” she asked softly.
“Of course not,” he snapped. “I would love any child you gave me, Daphne.”
She rubbed her cheek against the soft cambric of his shirt. “Then why are you dwelling on these things, darling? You are not responsible for the failure of your parents. You are only responsible for your actions.”
He turned, grasping her smaller hands in his own. His eyes were tortured. “ I have done terrible things,” he ground out.
“James, we were at war. I do not pretend to understand everything, but even I know that at such times it is kill or be killed. Your enemies would not have stopped. What you did kept your kinsmen safe.” She squeezed his hands in comfort. “You saved me from that horrid Brentwood, James. Think I will forget that?”
“I killed him in front of your eyes, Daphne!”
“He would have killed me or at least ruined me. He would have never stopped. He was a monster.”
He looked down, not wanting her acceptance. She would not allow him to withdraw so completely.
“James, how many defenseless women do you think that man hurt in his lifetime?” she wanted to know. “Because of you, he will never hurt them again. I do not fear you.”
He lifted his head, green-gold eyes burning into hers. “I do. I terrify myself, Daphne, especially where you are concerned. I could kill again and again. I…you are everything to me, Daphne! If anyone ever threatened you…”
She cupped his cheeks and lifted her mouth to his, tasting the aftermath of his terror, his passion, his…affection.
Grasping her shoulders, he pulled her close, burying his face in her soft curls. “I don’t think I could live without you, Daphne.”
She rubbed the back of his neck. “Of course you could. But I would not mind hearing you say that you would not want to.”
He pulled back and cupped her cheeks. “I love you, Daphne. I think I have always loved you, from the first time I saw you.”
“Don’t be silly,” she murmured, smiling sadly. “The first time I met you I wasn’t supposed to be in your room and you growled at me.”
“Of course I did,” he replied warmly. “There you were, all dimples and sunlight when I was trying to feel sorry for myself. You never gave me a moment of peace, sweetheart. I had no choice but love you. I knew I was too old and mean for you, but I couldn’t help but take what I wanted.”
Her eyes widened. “You aren’t jesting, James?”
“I love you, Daphne. It was the only reason I was able to ignore you so well.”
His mouth found hers, cherishing every breath and taste. The sweet taste of her was home. He did not care about the house or title or aught else so long as she was here, safe in his arms.
