The Matchmaker (15 page)

"No, it doesn't." Noel met those black eyes squarely. "What would amuse you would be to break the man's neck with your own hands."

After a moment Cyrus gave him a curiously chilling
smile. "That would be too easy. I'd much rather break
every bone in his body.
Inch by inch."

Noel barely felt his jaw drop, and had to try twice
before he could ask, "What's he done to you?"

"Not a damned thing."

"For God's sake, Cy, you don't express a desire to
murder a man—especially like that—unless he's crossed you in some way!"

"He breathes the same air I do. That's enough of an
offense."

Noel stared at him, feeling very peculiar. Cyrus was
still smiling, but his black eyes were deadly and Noel
had never seen them like that.
Without even thinking
about it, he said, "It's because of Julia, isn't it?"

"Yes," Cyrus said flatly.

"Because you want her and she belongs to him?"

"She doesn't belong to him. She's tied to him—there's a difference."

Noel was conscious of another shock. If any other man had said those words in a voice so intense it shook, he
would have believed...
But, no.
It couldn't have
happened to Cyrus, surely, not so quickly. Managing a protest, Noel said, "Not in the eyes of God or the law."

"God turned His eyes away from that marriage a long time ago. And the law doesn't always recognize evil if it
wears an appealing face."

"Evil?
Cy
, what—"

Cyrus immediately shook his head just once, a clear
refusal to explain what he meant, and Noel didn't repeat
the question. But he had another one, and he asked it.

"What is it you mean to do?"

"Strip away the charm. Expose the hideous face
underneath."

Noel wanted to ask
And
then?
but
he didn't dare. He
didn't want to hear the answer.

Julia was still puzzled and disturbed by the message that had sent her to Cyrus, and Helen Bradshaw's disappear
ance made the questions even more troubling. Until
Lissa had returned home that evening in perfect health
and spirits, it hadn't occurred to her the message might have been a deliberate ruse, and when she did consider it, she found the possibility chilling.

A casual question had provided the information that Helen hadn't gone with the others, and Julia's butler, Wilson, was positive it had been she who had left the message.

But why?
If it had been a deliberate attempt to put
Julia in a compromising position by causing her to arrive
on Cyrus's property when Adrian was there, it seemed
incredibly involved—particularly for an eighteen-year-
old girl who, in any case, had no reason to plan it. There was no malice in Helen that Julia had ever seen, and like
many young women, she didn't notice very much beyond her own self-centered interests. If she had suspected there might be something between Julia and Cyrus, she might have giggled and gossiped, but she
wouldn't have done anything to either confirm or disprove her suspicions.

No, if Helen had indeed left the message, it was because someone else had persuaded her to, and the implication of such a possibility frightened Julia, espe
cially now that Helen had vanished without a trace.

She didn't want to believe the two things were
connected, but she had a sick feeling they were. Pawns were sacrificed; what if Helen had been a pawn? Who could be ruthless enough to use an innocent young girl and then discard her when she was no longer needed? Was she even alive?

If she wasn't
alive,
and if she'd been someone's puppet
or pawn, then why? Why had someone used her in such
a strange, involved way? Did someone suspect Julia had
been unfaithful to her husband, or want it to appear that
way? Adrian wouldn't have done it, she thought; he was
too conscious of his public image to arrange such a thing
when his friends would be witnesses to the result.
But if
not Adrian, then who?

It never occurred to Julia to suspect Cyrus, though
she wouldn't realize that for a long time.

She didn't know what to think, but she was afraid. Adrian was so involved in his political aspirations he
seemed to have little time or energy for her. He had
more or less left her alone these past days. But some
times when he looked at her, she had the eerie feeling he
was just waiting. That he knew something. It unnerved
her all the more because of her own feelings of guilt.

In Cyrus's arms she had convinced herself his seduction was simply another form of male domination, and
the belief had enabled her to withdraw from him. But as
the days passed, she slowly realized, to her bitter resentment and
shame, that
it didn't matter. He had brought something to life inside her, something she
couldn't define except to call it desire—as astonishing as
she found the very idea. His reasons for seducing her had no effect on the result; he had taught her to want
him.

Now it tormented her. Her body, awakened by his touch, ached incessantly. Often it throbbed, as if the
very center of her being had shifted from heart and mind
to the primitive, overwhelming needs of her female
flesh. Shockingly erotic dreams languid with heated pleasure disturbed her sleep almost every night, causing her to wake with silent gasps, and she would lay beside Adrian in feverish stillness, bewildered that her imagination could so vividly conjure physical sensations she
had never experienced.

Sensations she didn't even believe were real.

It didn't seem to matter if she felt no trust for Cyrus, no certainty he was different from Adrian. Her body wanted his, and the force of the need was a compulsion that gained strength, day by day, until it was physically painful to her, until it seemed any risk would be worth
taking if she could lie in Cyrus's arms just once. She
didn't know if giving herself to him would bring pleasure
or pain. All she knew was this terrible urgency, the
confused but certain conviction that she had to belong to
him. She had to.

Soon.

The days crept by, sluggish in the unbearable heat,
and Julia struggled to hold on to her fraying self-
command. In the face of so many tensions, it felt as if she would be torn apart by them. More and more her mask
of calm was a tenuous thing, and when it finally shat
tered, she could never have guessed that her
sister's loving
hand would be responsible for the blow.

"Julia, what's wrong with Adrian?"

Looking up from her sewing, Julia studied her sister's
troubled face for a moment before asking, "What do you
mean?" They were sitting together in the parlor before
lunch on the first Friday in August with the shutters
closed against the heat of the day, and both had been
silent for quite some time.

"He's so tense. He snapped at you twice last night at
supper, and there was something in his face I've never
seen before."

Julia hesitated. "The heat, I suppose. Everyone seems
to be affected by it."

Lissa shook her head. "No, it was more than the heat.
And you knew it too, because you were afraid of him. It
was in your eyes. Don't tell me I imagined it."

Again Julia hesitated, but she couldn't bring herself to
answer with the truth. Not all the truth, at any rate.
Coolly, she said, "Like most men, Adrian has a temper.
It seems to be the fate of a wife to bear the brunt of that,
and I've learned to be wary."

"Julia—"

"Lissa, it wouldn't be fair to Adrian to discuss our
marriage with you. Don't you agree?"

"Is that a polite way of telling me it's none of my business?" Lissa's voice was very quiet.

"I suppose." Julia managed a smile.

Her sister didn't return it. "I can't help being worried,
Julia. I've noticed things lately.
Since I've been home this summer."

Julia didn't want to encourage her sister to continue,
but she couldn't help but wonder if Lissa's growing
feelings for Mark had made her more aware of other
people's relationships. Or was it that Adrian was slipping, showing more of his private nature outside the bedroom?

Lissa went on without being asked or urged. "He doesn't seem to notice how you feel at all, or care if
you're tired or drained by the heat. You're so.
..
so
careful around him, as if you have to weigh every word.
And even though he's very attentive in public, here in
the house he never touches you—I mean, when you're around the servants or me."

"The realities of marriage," Julia said lightly.

"Mark's parents don't act like that, and they've been married for twenty-five years. He teases her in the sweetest way, and sometimes when you go into a room where they've been alone, she's blushing and he has a
little smile on his face—and you know they've been
kissing and cuddling."

Julia felt a pang and hoped she didn't look as wistful as she felt. "Every couple is different, Lissa," she mur
mured, wondering if it was true.

"Susie's parents hold hands when they walk, even if
it's just through the house. Monica's sister and her
husband smile when they catch each other's eye. Eliza
beth and Parker laugh together all the time, and when
she was carrying the baby, he did everything he could to make it easier for her. She told me. How he'd rub her back, and help her get around when the baby got so big. How he worried that something would go wrong, and he'd lose her. Now that the baby's here, they're like newlyweds again. He's so gentle and loving."

Lissa's green eyes were steady as they held Julia's. "I
always thought Adrian was wonderful, but,
Julia... you're so still when he's around, like you're
shut inside yourself. Your voice is—is so calm, it's as if all
the feeling has been squeezed out of it. I haven't heard you laugh in two years. You never even smile as if you mean it. I guess I always saw those things, but I didn't really think about them until recently. You don't love him. He doesn't love you. And I don't think—I don't
think he's kind to you."

Julia looked away, trying to gather her scattered thoughts. "He's my husband, Lissa."

"Maybe he shouldn't be," Lissa said very softly.

Conscious of shock, Julia stared down at her sewing
with blind eyes. "Do you realize what you're saying?"

"Oh, I know it's supposed to be wrong. Till death do us
part, no matter
what.
It isn't easy for a woman to get a
divorce, and when she does, people say she's fast. But
you can't spend the rest of your life with a man who
makes you unhappy, no matter what people say. If you made a mistake, you shouldn't have to go on paying for
it."

"Lissa—"

"Why should you have to? Being in love is such a
wonderful feeling. And to see love in a man's eyes makes
anything seem possible. Every woman should know
what love is like. You should. You deserve to be married
to a man who loves you. Don't trap yourself in a bad
marriage. Julia, if you stay with Adrian, and children
come—it'll be too late. He'd never let you go then."

"He wouldn't let me go now," Julia heard herself say,
and though she was appalled she'd said it, there was a
certain relief in voicing that certainty aloud.

"Maybe if I talked to him—"

"No!" Julia felt cold with fear as she stared at her
sister. It was too late now to pretend; all she could do
was try to convince Lissa to remain silent. "If you say one
word about any of this to Adrian, I'll never forgive you."

"Julia—"

"I mean it, Lissa. You don't know him. I do. He
wouldn't give me a divorce no matter what anyone said
to him, and bringing up the possibility would only make
the situation worse for me. Promise me you'll say-
nothing to him."

Lissa stared at her for a long moment, a little pale and
very troubled,
then
nodded slowly.
"All right.
I prom
ise. "

Julia forced a smile, and knew it looked as strained as it felt. "I'll be fine, really."

"Will you? I have a feeling it's a lot worse than I
thought. He hurts you, doesn't he? At least twice since
I've been home this summer, you stayed in bed more than a day, and you were so white when I saw you."

"Lissa, please."

"I won't say anything to Adrian, but I can't help
worrying. If he's hurting you, you have to get away from
him. Even if he won't give you a divorce, can't you just leave him? He'd look awfully silly staying married to you
when you didn't live with him."