Intimate Deception (20 page)

Damn! Damn it to hell! Damn her!

He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t spend every day of the next seven months and more with her, getting to know her, learning to care for her. Coming to love her. Watching her body grow big with his child, with the heir he longed
to have. Then have her die in his arms and the babe with her. He couldn’t do it. He wasn’t strong enough to go through it again.

Cold sweat poured from his body and he jabbed his hands into his hair, struggling against the fear that pummeled him like a tidal wave in a raging storm. He squeezed his eyes shut tight, then opened them, praying his nightmare would go away.

Something moved in the distance. Someone. His heart began a steady drumming, beating faster and faster until he feared it might leap from his chest.

A man moved below his window. The thin form slouched low and kept to the shadows as he ran from the front of the manor house down the long drive to the lane. He wore a long, dark cloak over white breeches and jacket and a wide hat that covered most of his features. Before he reached the lane, he turned to look back. Then he lifted himself up on his white mount and rode away.

Vincent felt a greater fear than he thought was possible. He knew only one man with such a penchant for white. One man whose threats could cause harm.

He raced across the room, pulling on his breeches and boots before he went out the door.

He ignored the stitch in his side and slipped his loose shirt over his shoulders as he ran down the hallway toward the stairs. He froze halfway down the staircase as the faint whiff of smoke assaulted his nose. He shifted his gaze to the entrance and saw flames licking up the outside of the house from the two windows on either side of the door. He turned and vaulted back up the stairs.

“Grace!”

Vincent threw open the door and raced across the room. “Wake up, Grace.”

Her eyes popped open and she shook her head as she struggled to waken. “Vincent? What is it?”

“There’s a fire,” he said, shoving her slippers onto her feet. “Here, put this on.” He handed her the robe lying across the foot of the bed then grabbed another blanket and threw it around her shoulders. “Hurry. Come with me.”

He wrapped his arm around her waist and propelled her to the stairs, keeping a tight grip on her as they made their way to the bottom. Heavy smoke seeped under the door, the acrid smell assaulting his nose. “Go to the back. We can’t get out the front.”

He pushed her forward. When they reached the rear of the house he yelled to wake Herman and Maudie. Before he and Grace reached the kitchen area, the two servants were rushing from their quarters.

“There’s a fire in the front of the house,” Vincent said, rushing for the door.

They had to get out before the smoke got too bad. He reached for the door and pushed. It was locked.

“Where’s the key, Herman?”

“There ain’t no key, Your Grace. This door ain’t never been locked.”

“Keep the women back,” Vincent said, throwing a log from the fireplace through the only window in the room. He pushed a chair near the opening and crawled up. “Hopefully the door has only been wedged shut and I can get it open.”

Vincent shoved himself through the opening and dropped to the ground. A heavy bench had been lodged under the latch. He pushed it away, then pulled open the door.

“Are you all right?” he said, rushing Grace from the house and taking her into his arms.

“Yes. I’m fine.”

“Sit with Lady Grace on that bench, Maudie,” he ordered, giving Grace a quick kiss on the forehead, “and don’t either of you move. We have to get that fire out before the house burns. Fill some buckets, Herman.”

He raced around the side of the house with Herman at his side.

It didn’t take long to extinguish the blaze. Thankfully he’d seen it soon enough. If he hadn’t, they could have burned to death. Especially Grace and he. The fire was set to cut off any escape down the stairs. They would have been trapped up above.

“Vincent?”

Vincent spun around to see Grace standing behind him, hugging the blanket he’d wrapped tightly around her shoulders. “It’s over now, Grace. Are you unharmed? Is the baby…?”

He watched as one of Grace’s hands moved to her stomach.

“The baby’s fine.”

Vincent couldn’t believe the relief he felt.

She took a step toward him. “What happened?”

“Nothing.” He crossed the rest of the distance to where she stood and pulled her into his arms. She flattened her hands against his chest and pushed away from him.

“Don’t lie to me. What’s happening? First you are shot, then someone sets fire to the house where you’re sleeping. Do you know who it is?”

He tried to pull her back against him but she stepped out of his reach. “Did you see something? You must have discovered the fire soon after it started. It hasn’t done too much damage. What did you see?”

Vincent shook his head, but she held out her hand to stop his denial.

“What!” she demanded a second time.

“I saw a man ride away on a white mount just after I was shot. I saw him again tonight.”

“A white mount? Who do you know who has a white horse? Perhaps it is someone who—”

Vincent saw the color drain from her face and stepped close to her to hold her. “It’s him,” she whispered, and he felt her sway in his arms.

“I can’t swear to it, Grace. I didn’t see his face.”

“It has to be. Fentington’s known for his penchant for white. His white horse, white carriage, white clothes.”

“Perhaps it’s just coincidence.”

“You know it’s not. He means to kill you because you embarrassed him at the Pendleton ball. I thought he’d forgotten about it because he didn’t attend any functions after that.”

“He wasn’t invited.”

Grace looked up at him in surprise. “Wasn’t invited?”

“The
ton
have finally decided to put their stamp of disapproval on his sexual perversions. Fentington has been removed from everyone’s guest list.”

“He blames you, Vincent. He blames us both.”

Vincent wrapped his arms around Grace’s shoulders and pulled her close to him. “We’ll leave for London in the morning.”

“And then what?”

“We’ll marry as planned. You’ll have my name to protect you. I’ll take care of Fentington.”

Vincent ignored the concern on her face and led her back into the house. “Maudie has the windows open down here and the smell isn’t too strong any more. We’ll sit in the study until the house is aired.”

They walked together to the study, but when they entered the room, Vincent couldn’t let her sit alone on the long, floral settee. She looked so small and frightened. So fragile. Instead, he walked to a brown-leather wing chair.

“Come here,” he whispered and held out his arms for her. Without hesitation, she walked into his arms. He sat, then pulled her to his lap. She breathed one heavy sigh before she curled up in his lap and turned her face into his chest.

Vincent tucked the blanket beneath her chin and held her, promising God that if He spared her life and delivered the child from her safely, he’d never put her at risk again.

He rested his chin on the top of her head and felt a wave of desire. He ran his hands across her shoulders and down her arms. He sifted his fingers through her thick, golden hair and caressed the taut muscles at her neck and back. Then he lowered his gaze and looked into her eyes—into the wealth of emotion he’d fought so valiantly to ignore. And he knew the battle was lost.

He lowered his head and kissed her with all the desperation he’d struggled against since he’d met her. Since he’d first touched her. Since he’d lain with her.

He pressed his lips against hers and kissed her again, then deepened his kiss when she wrapped her arms around his neck and turned into him.

He was desperate to have her. Frantic to possess her. Desperate to keep her safe.

Such possessiveness was a feeling he’d sworn he’d never feel again. It went against his vow to do everything in his power to protect himself—to protect his heart.

He kissed her again, then nestled her close to him and rested his chin against the top of her head. He could not look at her but stared straight ahead. He did not want her to see the raw desire in his eyes. Didn’t want to see her red, swollen lips and ache to kiss them again. He knew he’d already committed a grievous error and did not want to compound it with emotions that were irreversible.

He knew he’d already come to care for her more than was wise. More than his heart could withstand if he lost her.

G
race would rather have taken a beating than return to London and face Caroline. And by now all of her other sisters knew too.

She turned her head and focused on the scenery out the carriage window. Watching the green hills and verdant meadows was better than thinking about the scene to come when they arrived. Much better than watching the grim expression on Raeborn’s face darken.

She’d been ill again this morning, just as they were preparing to leave. She could almost cut the worry emanating from him with a knife. She took a deep breath and prayed she’d make it to London without having to stop.

“Are you feeling all right?”

Grace swallowed hard in an effort to calm her queasy stomach. “I’m sorry I delayed our leaving.”

“It doesn’t matter. Sickness is part of a pregnancy. It will probably last at least a few more weeks.”

Grace smiled. “My sister Josie was ill the whole term with her first. She’s married to Viscount Carmody, and we all thought by the time the babe was born we’d hear she’d been charged with murder.”

Raeborn looked at her from beneath furrowed brows, and Grace thought how endearingly handsome he was this
morning. How such a simple gesture made her heart race. “She made her poor husband suffer unmercifully. He even threatened to move in with Caroline and Wedgewood until it was over. Thank heaven her next two babes were much kinder to their mother. With the last, she wasn’t ill in the least.”

He frowned. “How many children does she have?”

“Three. Although I anticipate news of a fourth soon. It’s just a feeling I have.”

“Are they all daughters, then?”

“No. They’re all sons.”

Raeborn’s frown deepened. “If the viscount already has three sons, why would she consent to risking her life to give him a fourth?”

Grace wanted to laugh, but one look at the expression on his face told her he was deadly serious. For a heartbeat her blood ran cold. “Most women don’t look at bearing children as a risk, Your Grace. They consider children a blessing. Don’t you?”

His gaze turned hard, his expression haunted. “No. Perhaps I did once. Before I knew what was at stake.”

The air left her body. She knew she should let the matter drop, but she couldn’t. “Not every woman dies in childbirth, Your Grace.”

His face paled in the warm England sunshine and he gave a start as if she’d spoken sacrilege. “No, not all. But even one is too many.” He hesitated as if he wanted to say more on the subject, but decided against it, then added, “When we reach London I’ll send for my physician.”

“That’s not necessary. I’m fine. Besides, my sisters will all be there tomorrow. I’ll get more mothering than either you or I want.”

“Nevertheless, I think—”

“Vincent, please,” she said, more forcefully than she’d intended. She closed her eyes and clenched her fists, willing her stomach to calm. “At least wait until after we are married. Please. There’s no need to let someone outside the family know before we’ve even spoken our vows.”

He nodded politely, making her wish this whole nightmare were over. Making her wish she would wake up in the morning and find a reprieve from impending motherhood. Making her wish just once she’d look at him and not see regret in his gaze.

“As you wish.”

She breathed a relieved sigh. “Thank you. Vincent, what are you going to do about…Fentington?”

“I will handle the matter, Grace. You have nothing to fear from him.”

“It’s not me I’m afraid for. It’s you. The man isn’t rational. There’s a part of his mind that is not right.”

“It doesn’t matter. What’s done is done and I’ll take care of it.”

Grace knew the subject was closed. She leaned back against the seat, praying nothing would happen to Vincent. The attacks had been her fault. She was the one Fentington wanted to punish. Raeborn was only the innocent victim Fentington thought Grace had despoiled with her wicked ways.

The carriage rumbled along the narrow road with Herman atop. They had to be nearly halfway there. Grace would be glad when they were home. No matter how often she tried to take in deep breaths as Maudie told her, her stomach still lurched and rolled.

“We’re reaching Waverly crossroads, Your Grace,” Herman hollered from above. “Did you want me to stop so you and the lady can stretch your legs?”

Raeborn gave her a concerned glance, then answered, “Yes, Herman.”

Grace breathed a sigh of relief when Herman stopped the carriage and Vincent helped her out. When her feet reached the dirt pathway, he extended her his hand and they leisurely walked down the road. Herman followed with the carriage a discreet distance behind.