Clay caught up with Ariel just as she reached the staircase. “Miss Summers? Ariel…?”
She stopped and turned, her worried gaze flying to his. He couldn’t miss the turmoil that darkened the blue of her eyes. “I have to get ready. There isn’t much time.”
“I know. I just … I realize you are upset. I know this has been a terrible experience for you, but it has also been a very bad time for Justin.”
The curve of her lips flattened out. “Bad? Bad in what way? Surely you aren’t going to stand there and tell me he was lonely? I imagine he had any number of women to keep him company after I was gone. I doubt either one of you has trouble finding willing female companions.”
“No, there has never been a shortage of women for either one of us.” She turned and started walking, but Clay caught her arm. “Justin isn’t interested in other women. He hasn’t been since the day he met you. Don’t you see? It’s you he cares about.”
She looked away, glanced down at the floor, studied the swirls in the marble. “It doesn’t matter. I’m not interested in a man who doesn’t trust me, who believes that I would be unfaithful.”
“Perhaps if you knew him better you might understand. Did Justin ever tell you about Margaret?”
“Margaret? Was that his mother’s name?”
“Margaret was the young woman Justin had the misfortune of falling in love with. It was a long time ago, of course. When we were away at school and both of us were younger. Margaret was beautiful and headstrong, and she told him that she loved him. For the first time in years, he allowed his emotions to surface. He believed that in time they would marry. Instead he caught her in bed with Phillip Marlin.”
Ariel’s eyes widened in shock.
“When he saw you that night and believed you’d gone to Phillip, just as Margaret had done, he must have gone a little bit insane.”
Her lips trembled, but her chin went up. “He should have asked me about it, at least let me explain. He should have had faith in me. Instead he believed that I was like … like her. I am not the least bit like that.”
“Justin was wrong, Ariel. He made a mistake. But all people make mistakes. In the past, Justin has been hurt very badly. That makes him more wary, more guarded than most. But he isn’t a fool. He’s a man who learns from his errors. He won’t make the same one again.”
Ariel said nothing, but her eyes held an ocean of pain.
“Think about it,” Clay said gently. Her troubled gaze followed him as he turned and walked away.
* * *
Wearing a gown of amethyst silk that revealed an ample portion of her milk-white breasts, Barbara Ross Townsend floated through the high, gilded double doors of the elegant Rose Salon of Greville Hall. Sunlight streamed in through the tall damask-draped windows in front of the house and glittered on delicate crystal chandeliers.
Barbara smiled at the golden-haired man who awaited her, coming to his feet the moment she slipped through the doors.
“Lady Haywood … Barbara. I came as quickly as I could.”
“Phillip, darling, it’s marvelous to see you.” She clasped his waiting hands, and Phillip leaned forward to kiss each of her cheeks.
“You look lovely as always.” He smiled. “We didn’t have nearly enough time in London. I’ve thought of you every moment since you left.”
She had known Phillip Marlin for years but until lately had paid him little attention. Not until her latest visit to London. She’d been a guest of Lady Cadbury, there to attend the marchioness’s annual soiree. Phillip had been in attendance, as well, and they had danced several times together. He was solicitous and attentive, more so once he sensed her interest was returned.
Several times in the past he had let it be known he found her attractive, an appeal perhaps heightened by the enmity that existed between him and her half brother. Until lately, she had ignored his overtures. Now she was glad she had waited.
Barbara knew well her appeal to men. With her black hair, fair skin, and pale gray eyes, she had a sensual, slightly exotic air that men found irresistible, and her one unpleasant experience with childbirth hadn’t marred the beauty of her body. Her rose-tipped breasts stood high and her waist remained trim. She had all the feminine attributes a man like Phillip Marlin found enticing, and being Justin’s half sister made her even more so.
After their evening at the soiree, Phillip had asked her to dinner. At the end of their third evening together, they had begun a torrid affair.
Barbara smiled as his eyes drifted down for a slow perusal of her breasts. “Your message sounded urgent. You said there was a matter of importance we needed to discuss.”
“There is. But now that you are here, we’ll have plenty of time for that later.” She lightly caressed his jaw, then took his face between her hands and pulled his mouth down to hers for a kiss. Beneath his coat, his heartbeat quickened. She felt the thickening bulge of his arousal and inwardly she smiled. “Why don’t we go upstairs for a while? Perhaps … afterward … we’ll both feel more in the mood for a serious conversation.”
Phillip’s sensuous lips curled up at the corners. “I believe I would like that.” He kissed her again, more deeply this time, sliding his tongue into her mouth, pressing her body against the hardness between his legs. “Yes, I believe I would like that very much.”
It was two hours later before they had the discussion for which she had summoned him. She was pleased to discover Phillip was even more agreeable to her proposition than she had hoped he would be.
They left the bedchamber and returned downstairs, Barbara holding onto his hand. She had envisioned a leisurely afternoon, but instead a messenger arrived, and her plans were forced to change.
“I can’t believe this! Of all the gall.” She handed the note to Phillip. “He is coming here today. No warning, no notice, just arriving as if it were his right.” Which of course it was, but that didn’t matter to Barbara. “I’m afraid you’ll have to leave, darling. I’m sorry you came such a distance for nothing.”
“Hardly for nothing.” Phillip’s mouth curved. His eyes ran over her body in a slow, heated glance that was a pointed reminder of the things they’d done upstairs. “Knowing Greville, he won’t stay long. Not when he has so many pressing business matters waiting for him back in London.”
Barbara lifted her long black lashes and gave him a seductive smile. “You’ll come back once he’s gone?”
“Of course, darling.” He walked up behind her, slid his arms around her waist, and drew her back against his chest. “We’ve a number of details to work out, and there are other”—he kissed the side of her neck—“even more enticing reasons for a visit.”
Barbara smiled and turned to face him, her fingers gliding over the lapels of his coat. “I’ll send word as soon as he leaves. In the meantime, perhaps you will think of a way to implement our plan.”
“Indeed, perhaps I shall.” A long, lingering kiss, and then he was gone.
Barbara smiled to think how easy he was to manage, how similar their interests and desires, and how, with his help, she had so cleverly set things into motion. Then she thought of the man who would soon be arriving at the house and her satisfied smile slid away.
Justin Bedford Ross was her nemesis, a thorn in her side since the day she had discovered his existence, an interloper who had stolen her son’s rightful heritage. Dear God, how she hated him.
Almost as much as she hated the man who had adopted him and made him the Greville heir.
Her father, the man who had ruined her life.
* * *
The journey to Greville Hall was made mostly in silence, Justin’s mood dark, Ariel’s mind whirling with thoughts she couldn’t seem to rein in.
Because I care about you! Is that so terribly hard to believe? Justin’s words rolled around in her head. A week ago she would have said yes, it was impossible to believe. She would have been convinced that the Earl of Greville cared for no one but himself. That he was cruel and vicious, that he had enjoyed using her and sending her away.
But that had been before he had returned to Lord Horwick’s to beg her to forgive him. Before she had been thrown into prison and he had come for her, carried her away from that terrible place, his expression so bleak, so filled with self-loathing that a painful band had tightened around her heart.
Before she had awakened and found him holding her hand.
Now as she looked at him, sitting on the carriage seat across from her, his unseeing gaze fixed out the window, his thoughts even further away, she remembered the story Clay had told her of the girl Justin had loved and how she had so cruelly betrayed him. His father had denied him. His mother had abandoned him. Who had ever loved him?
No one but her.
The thought brought a sharp, unexpected jolt of pain. She had loved him once. That love was dead now, buried so deep she could never find it again. Never wanted to find it again.
Or was it?
From beneath her lashes, she studied the hard set of his jaw and remembered how it softened in slumber, making him look almost boyish. She remembered the fiercely protective gleam in his eyes when he told her she would never have to go back to prison. The tender way he looked at her when he thought she didn’t see.
Ariel shook her head. She was fantasizing, imagining things, pretending he was something he would never be. Even if he cared for her, he didn’t love her. Justin was a man incapable of love. He simply didn’t possess that sort of emotion.
The turbulent thoughts continued, banging around in her head until an ache began to throb at her temples. She closed her eyes and rested her head against the tufted velvet cushions, listening to the rattle of harness, the rumble of carriage wheels rolling along the dirt lane, determined to force her mind in a different direction.
She tried to concentrate on what she would do with her future, once the scandal had died and she was once more on her own. He would help her make a new start, she now believed. At least in that small way she was certain he had told her the truth. Anything more, she refused to consider.
One thing was certain. She couldn’t let her guard down, not even for an instant. If she did, those penetrating looks and sultry glances would begin to summon memories she didn’t dare recall. Memories of how it had felt when he kissed her, touched her, made love to her. How her blood sang when he was inside her. If she thought of those things, she would want him again, and wanting him might lead to loving him. It was a fate she didn’t dare risk. She had survived loving him once. She couldn’t do it again.
She couldn’t survive another crushed and bleeding heart.
* * *
Greville Hall was even more magnificent than Ariel remembered. In the years since she’d been away, she had forgotten the way the huge house nestled in the sheltered green valley like a pearl among the rolling hills, the way the pale yellow stone glinted so softly in the sunlight. Standing three stories tall with majestic gabled roofs, a sea of chimneys, and a lovely gilded dome that reached more than seventy feet into the blue November sky, the house seemed to sparkle like the jewel it was.
The carriage rolled to a stop beneath a white-columned veranda that sheltered guests on their arrival, and a footman opened the door. Wide stone steps stretched across the front of the house, and Ariel felt Justin’s hand at her waist as she climbed to the top and went in through one of the massive double doors the butler held open.
“Welcome to Greville Hall, my lord.”
“Thank you. Perkins, isn’t it?”
The aging butler beamed that the earl, who had only been to the house on one occasion, had been able to remember his name. “Yes, my lord. Harold Perkins.” While Justin spoke to the man about matters pertaining to the house, Ariel stared in awe at the magnificent entry. Above their heads, light streamed in through a huge gilded dome brightened by stained-glass windows. Deep ruby reds, emerald greens, and sapphire blues cascaded down on ancient Roman statues and gilt-framed paintings that lined the walls.
“It’s incredible,” she whispered when Justin joined her and offered his arm. “More beautiful than I ever imagined.”
Something softened in those cool gray eyes. “Since you like it so much, we shall have to take a tour. I warn you, though, I have no idea where we might wind up. I’ve never been through the house myself.”
How odd, Ariel thought, to own such a treasure and never explore it. If she were mistress of Greville Hall, she would know every crook and cranny, every painting on the wall, every flower in the garden.
Then she heard the sharp, shrill sound of his sister’s angry voice. Barbara Townsend strode into the entry, and Ariel knew exactly the reason Justin had never spent time in the house.
“I see you have arrived—at precisely the time your note advised. Always so prompt, so totally predictable—so utterly and completely boring.”
Justin’s expression remained bland. “Since that is the case, we shall make it a point to spare you our company as much as possible.”
Barbara arched a brow. Though her lips curled up, there was nothing friendly in the smile she cast in his direction. “Even so, you shan’t want for company while you are here, will you? Not with your pretty little whore to keep you entertained. Why bother with propriety? Just because your innocent young nephew happens to reside in the house, why should that prevent you from dragging your mistress along?”
Justin’s expression tightened, turned icy hard. His jaw was set, his eyes such a frigid dark gray they looked almost black. One of his hands balled into a fist and a muscle ticked in his cheek.
His piercing gaze sliced like a knife into his sister. “You’re mistaken, my dear. Ariel isn’t my mistress.” His eyes swung to Ariel but only for an instant; then his mouth tightened into a cold warning line. “She is soon to be my wife.”
The breath Ariel hadn’t known she was holding slipped from her lungs. Justin’s gaze returned, locked with hers, and didn’t move away. She read its plea more clearly than any words he had ever spoken.
Don’t say no. Let me do this for you. Even if marriage hadn’t been his intention before they stepped inside the house, there was no doubt he meant every word. He would marry her. He would protect her from cruel, vicious people like his sister. He didn’t love her, but he would give her his name, give her a future.
His eyes remained on hers for a split second longer, and in their dark, smoky depths Ariel caught a glimpse of something else, something she hadn’t expected, something so potent, so powerful, she had to steady herself on legs that suddenly turned shaky.
There was no mistaking the look in those dark, stormy eyes, no mistaking the need, the terrible yearning, unlike anything she had ever seen in his eyes before. There was no way to miss the silent prayer that willed her to say yes. It stunned her with the force of an icy wind, and in that moment she knew that the love she had felt for him had never really died. It was there in her heart as it had always been. There reaching out to her, making itself known.
She loved him and watching his face, seeing the terrible longing that hid beneath his cool, emotionless facade, she had no choice but to marry him. She would take any risk, no matter how great, no matter how dangerous, against the chance that one day he might love her in return.
Tears burned her eyes. No words would come and even if they had, she couldn’t have said them. Instead she stepped toward him, reached out, and gently took hold of his hand. His fingers laced with hers, tightened almost painfully. He drew her closer, slid an arm possessively around her waist.
He stared his sister straight in the eye. “Ariel is soon to become the next Countess of Greville.”
Barbara’s expression turned feral, her lips stretching into a tight, ruthless smile. “And just when is this momentous occasion supposed to occur?”
“We’ll be married by special license as soon as I can arrange it.” He glanced at Ariel, and for the second time in the span of minutes, a look appeared that she had never seen. With a sudden burst of clarity she realized it was hope, the sight so unexpected and so utterly endearing it made a thick lump rise in her throat.
“In the meantime,” he said, returning his attention to his sister, “I presume you have our rooms prepared.”
She cast a glance up the stairs. “I’ve had the bedchamber adjoining yours made ready. I didn’t realize you would be wanting more proper accommodations.”
His jaw tightened, but he made no further comment. Instead, he turned to a footman who stood near the door. “See to the bags, if you please. The lady is undoubtedly tired and in need of a rest. I should like to see my nephew; then I believe I shall also retire for a while before supper.”
“Aye, milord.” The young blond footman hastened to do the earl’s bidding.
Ariel followed the butler up the stairs. The door to the room stood open and a chambermaid busily finished setting the bedchamber in order. As bright and lovely as the rest of the house, it overlooked the lavish formal gardens at the rear. It was done in shades of cream and rose satin, with beautiful silk damask curtains at the windows and an ornately carved rosewood bed on a dais against one wall. Ariel waited for her trunks to arrive, garments she had left at Justin’s house the day he sent her away, and they appeared a few moments later.
Silvie arrived with them, having ridden in the second carriage with the footmen and the luggage. She helped Ariel out of her dusty, travel-stained clothes and into her quilted blue wrapper. While Silvie unpacked her clothes, Ariel wearily sat down in a chair before the fire.
Good heavens, what have I done? Though the room was warm, a tremor ran through her. Everything had happened so quickly. Justin had told his sister that they were to marry. Wordlessly—insanely—Ariel had agreed. Dear God, she must have been mad, completely out of her head!
A memory of his face arose, but the image held none of the yearning, the terrible need she had seen. What if it were only her imagination? What if they wed and she discovered he was indeed the cold, heartless man he had seemed?
She needed to talk to him, needed to know what he was thinking. She needed to reassure herself she was doing the right thing.
Crossing the bedchamber, she sat down at the antique French writing desk in the corner and penned a brief message, asking him to meet her at seven o’clock that evening in the garden. Then she handed the note to Silvie and asked her to deliver it to the earl. Bobbing a quick curtsy, Silvie left to find him, and Ariel climbed wearily up on the bed. A little rest and surely she’d be able to think more clearly.
But two hours later, she was still awake, her thoughts just as muddled as they were when she lay down to sleep.
* * *
Barbara paced back and forth in front of the marble-manteled hearth in her elegant suite of rooms. The master suite. The lord’s bedchamber. The rooms Barbara had usurped since she moved back into the house after her husband died. With their rich royal blue and silver decor, they were the most elegant rooms in the house. Why shouldn’t she use them? Justin never came to Greville Hall, and the one time he had, he’d been perfectly content to use the smaller suite of rooms he now occupied down the hall.
Barbara paced to the window and made another turn, her ruby velvet gown flaring out, the muscles in her shoulders aching with tension. By rights the rooms should belong to Thomas. Since the boy, not her father’s callous bastard son, should have been the heir.
The thought brought an image of that devil-in-the-flesh, her cold, black-hearted brother, and a fresh wave of fury broke over her. How dare he calmly arrive at her house and announce he would marry his latest whore! How dare he! For years, he had sworn he would never wed. He had no use for a wife and children, he’d said. He simply wasn’t the sort.
And fool that she was, she had believed him. She’d been certain that in time her son would inherit. She had mistakenly thought she had plenty of time to hasten that outcome along. Now, having seen the way her half brother looked at Ariel Summers, as if she were a glorious banquet on which he intended to feast, she had no doubt he would rut with the wench until he got her with child, and virile as he was, likely it would be a son.
A boy who would inherit the Greville title and fortune that should have belonged to Thomas.
Barbara whirled toward the hearth and her fist slammed down on the mantel. She needed to see Phillip again, to tell him this latest turn of events and discuss what they should do. She would send him a message, set up a meeting at the inn in the village.
For the first time since her brother’s arrival, she smiled.
Perhaps having Justin and his whore in the house was a blessing rather than a curse. She would know his plans, his whereabouts, for as long as he remained. And out here in the country, anything could happen. Shooting accidents, an untimely fall from a horse, a deadly bout with tainted food. The possibilities were endless.
Calmer now, Barbara sat down at her desk and scratched out a message. She would see it delivered this very day, get word to Phillip and move up the timetable on their plan. For the first time, it occurred to her that perhaps Justin’s little whore was already with child, that perhaps that was the reason he’d decided to marry her. If she was, Barbara would soon find out.
Justin would be dealt with and, if a child was forthcoming, so would his little whore.
* * *
Justin strolled along the paths in the garden. It was lovely here, he conceded, even in mid-November. Winding gravel walkways lit by flickering torches. Perfectly manicured hedgerows forming graceful patterns in the lawns. An old-fashioned maze loomed in the distance, topiary sculptures of birds set to guard the entrance.
Making his way to the marble fountain that bubbled in the center of the garden, he sat down on one of the curved marble benches that encircled it. He was early for his meeting with Ariel. He straightened the cuffs on his shirt and fiddled with the knot of his cravat.
He’d hoped to use the extra time to consider what he would say to her when she arrived, but so far nothing had come to him. He wasn’t sure why she had sent the message. He wasn’t even certain she had actually agreed to the marriage. Perhaps she simply wished to stifle his sister’s venomous tongue, if only for a while.
Justin sat there in the darkness and one of her letters came to mind:
There is great excitement at school today. Cynthia Widmark, one of my classmates, is going to be married! Though she has known the young man for a number of years, until recently her parents believed she was too young to wed. They have relented, it seems, and agreed to a betrothal. Cynthia is gloriously happy. I can only imagine how wonderful it must feel to fall in love, marry, and have a family. I wonder if I shall ever be as fortunate as she.
Justin thought of the letter and wondered if Ariel would ever consider herself fortunate to be married to him. She had once said that she loved him. He wondered if, back then, it was actually true. Or perhaps she had said it merely to dissuade Phillip Marlin. He tried to think what woman had ever loved him. Not Margaret, for certain. Not his mother, at least not enough to keep her from leaving and never coming back. Perhaps his grandmother, but that had been so long ago he couldn’t quite recall.
Justin glanced back toward the house, searching the empty walkways for Ariel. It was quiet in the garden, except for the crackle of the burning torches and the patter of the fountain. It was chilly out here in the dark, the night crisp and clear, the stars winking like jewels in the blackness overhead. He hoped she would remember to bring a shawl.
Footsteps crunching lightly on gravel brought him to his feet, nervous now, growing more uncertain. God’s blood, what should he say?
“Justin…?”
“I’m here … by the fountain.” She turned and walked toward him, her expression as uncertain as his own. For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then they both tried to talk at once and again nervously fell silent.
“I’m not exactly certain where to begin,” Ariel finally said, looking up at him. “Did you mean what you told your sister?”
“You must know that I did.”
“Why? Why would you want to marry me?”
He wasn’t sure how to answer, wasn’t certain he knew the answer himself. “It’s past time that I married.” As good a reason as any he could think of. “I’m in need of a wife. You’re in need of a husband, or at least someone to look after you. It would seem the answer to both of our problems.”
“You said you weren’t the sort for marriage.”
“Perhaps that’s what I thought … at the time. But life goes on; people change. You asked me once if I planned to have children. I hadn’t thought to do so, but perhaps I was too hasty. Now, I think I should like to have children very much.” As long as they would be your children, as well.
“I see.”
But she didn’t sound overjoyed at the prospect. Maybe he hadn’t explained things clearly enough. “I’ve seen you with Thomas. I know you like children. I believe you would make a very good mother. In return, I can give you what you’ve always wanted. You’ll be a countess, Ariel. Lady Greville. You’ll have money, a position in society. No one will ever be able to hurt you again.”
Ariel turned away from him, moved off toward the fountain, skimmed a finger across the cold, shadowy surface of the water. “If we are to have children, you must intend to spend time in my bed. If that is the case—”
“I want you, Ariel. I always have. I don’t intend for this marriage to be in name only.”
Seconds ticked past. “I won’t lie to you, Justin. I’m frightened. I trusted you before. I’m terrified to do it again.”
Regret settled over him like a damp winter mist. Walking to where she stood, he caught her chin between his fingers and slowly turned her to face him. “I can’t undo the past. I can only promise that nothing of the sort will ever happen again.”
Her eyes, so blue in the light of the torches, scanned every line of his face. “Do you love me, Justin? Even the tiniest bit?”
A tight band squeezed around his chest. He wished he could say the words she wanted to hear, ached to make her girlish dreams come true, but he didn’t know the first thing about loving someone, and he would never lie to her again.
“I care for you, Ariel. More than I ever believed I could. But love…? Love is something I know nothing about. In truth, I don’t believe I am capable of such a feeling. I can only tell you that I’ll take care of you, provide for our children. And I’ll do my very best to make you happy.”
She worried her bottom lip. “I don’t … I don’t know.”
The words tore through him. The tightness around his chest contracted until it was hard to breathe. “Let me take care of you, provide for you as you deserve. Please, Ariel.” I need you. “Say you’ll be my wife.”
She gazed into his face and he wondered what she read there, what secrets the harsh lines and shadows revealed. Whatever it was, tears glittered for an instant in her eyes. “I’ll marry you, Justin.”
He hadn’t meant to kiss her. He simply looked into that beautiful teary gaze and couldn’t stop himself. Framing her face in his hands, he captured her trembling lips and kissed her with all the longing he had known since he sent her away. Regret for his betrayal mingled with the knowledge that she would soon be his, and his need for her built. Hunger rose with it, like a fire erupting in his blood.
For an instant he allowed his passion free rein, pulling her into his arms, kissing her deeply, feeling her slim fingers digging into his shoulders. He was hard and aching, his arousal throbbing to be inside her. He kissed her a moment more, then tore himself away, ending the moment before he went too far, before he did something else that he would regret.
A shudder rippled through him as he fought to regain control. His chest rose and fell as if he’d run a winning race. “I think it would be best if you went in,” he said softly. “If you don’t, I’m afraid I shall be tempted to break the promise I made when we came here.”
Ariel looked up at him, her face flushed, her lips still moist from his kiss. He saw the uncertainty in her eyes and he hated himself for it. He lifted a hand to her cheek, touched her feather-lightly.
With a last worried smile, she turned and hurried back toward the house.
Justin watched her go, fighting the desire that still burned in his blood. For the past few days he’d been able to control it. Now that she had agreed to marry him, it tore through his body like the claws of a ravenous beast.
Lust was a familiar emotion.
It was the tenderness he felt as he watched her disappear inside the house that amazed him. For a moment, he didn’t even realize what it was.
Wearily he sank down on the bench, rubbing the back of his neck, trying to sort out his thoughts. Earlier he’d sent word to his solicitor, asking him to arrange for a special license. In a few short days, he would be wed.
He stared down at his hand, flexed his fingers, felt the muscles tighten in his forearms. Over the years, he had kept himself physically strong and mentally tough. He’d taught himself to be fearless, then used that fearlessness to earn his fortune and make his own way.
Now as he looked toward a future that included marriage and, in time, perhaps even children, he discovered a rising terror unlike anything he had ever known. In truth, he had never been more frightened than he was at that moment, sitting alone in the shadows of the gardens, thinking about the strange turn of fate that had brought him to this unexpected moment in his life.