Kathryn Smith (26 page)

How could he tell her? How could he tell her that yes, in a way she had been a replacement, but not in the way she thought? He’d married her to right a wrong, not as a substitute for another woman. He couldn’t tell her, not and make her understand. Because then he’d have to tell her how she made him feel, how he wanted her, why he wanted her, and these were things he didn’t quite understand himself.

“When I offered to marry you, I was sincere in my wish to help you. I wasn’t trying to make you into someone else.” It wasn’t a complete lie. He’d only thought to use her to atone for someone else. And now…now, he realized that atoning for Miranda’s death paled next to the need to keep Rachel in his life. Yes, he wanted to make amends for the past, but he also wanted to protect Rachel and her mother.

And Rachel made him think of the future. For the first time in a long time, he wanted to go forward. He wanted children, and he wanted Rachel to give them to him.

He opened his mouth, searching for the words to tell her just that. They wouldn’t come, and he was left standing there, gaping like an idiot. He closed his mouth.

Rachel looked away, but not before he saw the shimmer of tears in her eyes. She shrugged. “I had to ask. I suppose it’s one less thing to kick you for now.”

If she’d meant the remark to be funny, Brave didn’t take it as such. He was still reeling from her question and his answers to it.

“How can I help you?”

His attention snapped back to her. She was staring at him with an intensity that made him uneasy. “What do you mean?” Help him? She wanted to help him? Didn’t she realize how much she’d already done for him?

Of course not, because he couldn’t find the words to tell her. He didn’t know how to tell her.

Her gaze was guileless as it locked with his. Prying his arms away from his chest, she took one of his hands and placed it on her breast. “You can take your pain out on me if you want. Let me take it away.”

Brave could only stare at her. Had he heard her correctly? Was she truly offering to let him pour all the rage and self-pity of the last two years into her virginal body?

It made sense to him when he thought about it. Looking into her eyes only confirmed it. For whatever reasons, Rachel needed to save him just as he had needed to save her. She felt responsible for her mother’s marriage to Sir Henry, and for the physical condition her mother was now in. If Brave made love to her now, she would regain some of her control over her life.

Two weeks ago, perhaps even two days ago, he might have taken her up on it, but not now. No, when he and Rachel finally shared a bed there wasn’t going to be anyone else in it with them.

Peeling his hand away from the warm temptation of her
breast, Brave cupped both his hands around her shoulders. He wanted to shake her but he didn’t.

“There are many emotions I want to ‘take out’ on you, Rachel. Desire and passion are two that come immediately to mind, but grief and pain are not on the list.” He searched her face for any evidence that his words made sense to her.

“When I make love to you—when you give yourself to me—I want it to be because you want me inside you, not because you have some need to martyr your maidenhead. You’ve draped yourself across enough altars. I don’t want to be part of just another sacrifice.”

Rachel jerked out of his hold. Angry red splotches stood out on her pale cheeks. Her eyes snapped with indignation. “Is that what you think I’m doing? Sacrificing myself?”

“I know that’s what you’re doing.” And oddly enough the knowledge touched him, because Rachel only made such sacrifices for people she cared about.

She stood before him like a chastised child—a child more sorry for being caught than for the offending action.

“Go see your mother,” he commanded softly. “Listen to her when she says that you are not to blame. Come back to me when you’re ready to face the fact that you want me for yourself—not to save someone else.”

Rachel’s jaw tightened. Turning on her heel, she walked stiffly toward the door. Hand on the knob, she turned. “Would you believe Miranda if she told you that you weren’t to blame?”

She was gone before Brave could find his voice. It was just as well. He didn’t know the answer himself.

“Then what happened?”

Rachel turned away from the window and the relentless rain to stare at her mother’s swollen eyelids. Beneath one fringe of lashes, the barest hint of white was visible. Rachel
wondered how much her mother could see through that little slit.

“I left and went to my room to think, and then I came here.” She didn’t tell her mother that once she got to her room she had flung herself on the bed and sobbed for nearly an hour, or that she probably could have gone on for at least one or two more.

And there were certainly some details she left out of her story—like her idiotic offer to take away Brave’s pain, and his remark about coming back when she was clear on her reasons for wanting him.

She felt ten times a fool. A fool for the way she’d behaved, awful for the way she pouted when he refused to make love to her. And she felt awful because almost everything he’d said to her was true. She had been thinking only of her own plans, and she was vexed because Brave’s attention hadn’t been focused solely on her.

She’d been sharing him with a girl who had been dead for almost two years. She couldn’t compete with Miranda any more than Sir Henry could ever compare to her father. Oh, she knew Brave said he didn’t compare her to Miranda, but how could he not? She was the one he’d wanted, and Rachel was the one he got instead.

At least Rachel had been smart enough to appreciate him. Miranda Rexley didn’t know what she’d turned her back on. Stupid twit.

“He trusted you enough to tell you the truth,” her mother replied, her voice soft and hoarse. “You should be happy.”

“Should I?” She wrapped her arms around herself and shrugged. “Perhaps I will be later. Right now I’m just too tired.”

“And your pride’s too bruised to think of much of anything other than licking your wounds.”

“That too,” Rachel admitted with a sigh. She was feeling pretty sorry for herself, but it would pass. It usually did.

Marion’s lips curved slightly. “And you’re in love with him.”

There was no point in denying it. Her mother had a way of knowing these things—just like she knew about Rachel and Belinda giving Mrs. Dane’s sheep dog a haircut when they were twelve.

She chuckled self-consciously. “When you’re right, you really like to be right, don’t you?”

“It happens so rarely that I like to do it properly.” Marion patted the bed beside her. “Come sit.”

Rachel looked at that empty spot on the smooth coverlet. She wanted nothing more than to sit there and pour her heart out to her mother. She was in dire need of some hair stroking and shoulder patting. “The last thing you need to hear right now are my paltry problems.”

“You’re my daughter. If you had a hangnail, I’d consider it a matter of grave importance. Now sit.”

Smiling, Rachel obeyed, taking care not to cause her mother any discomfort as she sat.

She didn’t know where to begin. “It seems so foolish to be in love with someone I hardly know.”

Her mother’s eyelashes fluttered, the only indication that she was even looking in Rachel’s direction. “Your heart obviously thinks you know him well enough.”

“I don’t even know how it happened,” Rachel said, toying with the lace on the sleeve of her mother’s nightgown. “Is it possible to just wake up one morning in love?”

“I daresay it probably is.” There was no ridicule in her mother’s voice. No doubt she could tell her mother she wanted to fly, and her mother would give her full support. Then again, her mother also seemed to think that Rachel could have the man of her dreams.

Staring out the window at the wet grayness beyond,
Rachel played back every major detail of her relationship with Brave in her mind. “I suppose it could have happened the night he saved me.”

“It could have.”

She thought some more. “Or the night he kissed me at Lady Westwood’s.”

A moment of silence, and then, “He kissed you at Lady Westwood’s?”

Rachel was glad her mother couldn’t see her flaming cheeks, else she’d know that wasn’t all Brave had done. As a married woman, it was expected, but there were some things a woman didn’t want to share with her mother.

“It hardly matters how I feel about him,” she remarked, hoping she sounded more convinced than she felt. “I’ve more important things to think about—like getting you a divorce from Sir Henry and keeping you safe until then.”

“I sincerely doubt Henry would put up that much of a fight to get me back right now, Rachel,” Marion drawled, shifting her position ever so slightly. Her swift intake of breath betrayed just how much pain she was in.

Rachel didn’t say anything. Sir Henry wanting her mother back wasn’t what scared her. It was Sir Henry deciding that if he couldn’t have her, then no one would.

“You don’t think Braven could protect me?” her mother asked once she was comfortable again.

“I have no doubt that Brave could do anything he set his mind to,” was Rachel’s honest reply. “He promised to protect you, and that’s what he’ll do.”

“Perhaps,” her mother said, watching her through that tiny crack in her eye, “his feelings for you are why he made that promise.”

Rachel tugged on her sleeve. “Perhaps you should stop grasping at straws. I appreciate your confidence in me, but I have no idea how Brave feels about me, and after this afternoon I’m not sure I want to know.”

“Coward.”

Rachel laughed at that. “Admittedly so. We shall just have to content ourselves with the knowledge that at least one of us experienced perfect love in her lifetime.”

“You think your father and I had the perfect relationship?” Coming out as hoarse as it did, the question sounded positively ludicrous.

“Didn’t you?” Rachel’s own voice sounded just as questioning. Everything she remembered about her mother and father, everything she’d been told proved her theory correct.

“Rachel, when your father and I met, he neglected to tell me he was already betrothed to someone else.”

“What? No!” She couldn’t believe it. Her father? Betrothed to someone else? “The cad!”

Her mother nodded. “It’s true. He was engaged to be married to one Lydia Bunst, a buxom blonde with a fortune as large as her other attributes.”

Rachel leaned forward, resting her forearms on her thighs. This was a story she’d never heard before. “What happened?”

“He courted me for close to a month before I found out. I unexpectedly encountered the two of them at an assembly.”

Rachel almost squealed. “You saw them together? What did you do?”

“I introduced myself to her and told her what he’d been up to. She jilted him right there on the spot.”

In her mind, Rachel pictured her mother as a young woman confronting her father and his blond goddess. It was difficult to imagine her mother being so brazen. “He must have been mortified.”

“Mortified?” Marion laughed out loud, and then placed a hand against her ribs. “He was ecstatic! He thought I’d done it just so she’d cut him loose and we could be together.”

“And had you?”

A hint of a sly smile curved her mother’s lips. “Perhaps. I
didn’t make it easy for him, however. I put him through agony before I finally agreed to marry him.”

Rachel’s good mood soured somewhat. “At least you knew how he felt about you.”

“I knew no such thing! After I found out about Miss Bunst I thought he’d just been toying with me. I was crushed.”

“Then why did you go to such lengths to have him?” Rachel asked with a frown. She didn’t understand how her mother could take such a chance and risk public humiliation when she didn’t know what the outcome would be.

“Because I knew how
I
felt about him.” Marion’s voice rang with confidence. “And I knew that a truly honorable man wouldn’t jilt one girl just so he could have another, even if he had been thoughtless in his behavior.”

Rachel was still confused. “But Brave has no such reason to hide his feeling for me—if indeed he has any.”

“Does he not? You’ve hidden yours from him, and he isn’t the one who entered into this marriage for his mother’s sake.” She paused. “Can you honestly tell me that if it weren’t for me you wouldn’t have made your feelings more obvious?”

“If it weren’t for you,” Rachel said, keeping her tone light, “he never would have offered to marry me and we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

“But we are, so answer me.”

Sighing, Rachel knotted her hands in her lap. “No, I can’t tell you that. If circumstances weren’t what they are, I would probably be more honest about my feelings.”

“But you won’t, will you?”

Rachel shook her head. “Not now. No.”

Marion sighed. “You’ve got your father’s foolish pride.”

“And his honor,” Rachel added with a smile. “I won’t jilt you just so I can be with Brave.”

“So you’re going to risk having a happy life with him because you’re afraid.”

Rachel’s smile faded. How could she make her mother understand? She couldn’t admit her feelings to Brave until she was certain of his. She wouldn’t give her heart until she was certain of one in return, and even then she’d be cautious. She’d seen what losing her husband had done to her mother. It wasn’t something she wanted to experience.

“Yes,” she replied with false conviction. “I’m going to risk it all.”

“Then why did we just have this conversation if you already had your mind made up?”

Rachel’s tired eyes filled with tears. Embarrassed, she swept them aside. “I needed to talk.”

Her mother gave her hand a light squeeze. “You can always talk to me. You know that.”

Her throat tight, Rachel nodded. “I know.” She paused. “I should go. It’s time for you to take your medicine.” She reached for the bottle on the bedside table.

“What are you going to do?”

She removed the stopper and held the bottle against her mother’s lips, slipping a hand under her head to help her drink. “I think I’ll go for a walk. That always helps me clear my head.”

Swallowing, her mother leaned back against the pillows. “Don’t run away from him for too long, Rachel. Admit your feelings. Give him a chance to tell you his.”