The Matchmaker (7 page)

She was his wife, she belonged to him. No one would
question his right to punish her—and she doubted there
were many who would even believe he did.

Trapped.

Julia went into the kitchen and spoke with the cook, automatically taking care of the details of supper tonight and the coming party. She'd become proficient at divid
ing her thoughts and attention, and one corner of her
mind now worried at the awareness that she couldn't hope to avoid Cyrus Fortune much longer. There was a
concert the following night Adrian had insisted they
would attend, with a buffet dinner afterward, and Julia
had a strangely certain feeling Cyrus would be there.

At the charity dance, his stare had been bold, and he
hadn't hesitated to hold and kiss her in the park where
anyone could have seen. How would he behave when
she appeared on the arm of her husband?

The very thought terrified her. Adrian was always
alert to how other men looked at her or spoke to
her,
though from his charming and attentive facade no one
had guessed what demons of jealousy and possessiveness
burned inside him. But she knew. She knew the price
she would pay if Adrian caught even a glimmer of the
naked desire in Cyrus Fortune's eyes.

She was also very much afraid her own feelings would
betray her, even if Cyrus didn't. His kisses had affected her in a way she still couldn't quite believe, and being in his arms had felt so.
..
right.
Desire.
He had, with the first touch, taught her body to feel desire. Her
body, that had learned in agony to fear a man's strength,
had
swayed toward his in mute need and without fear. She
found it incredible, and couldn't understand how it was possible.

But a moth seemed to feel no fear, she thought, as it
was drawn to the flame that would destroy it.

Like all the women before her, she was bewitched, helplessly in thrall to a black velvet voice and heated black eyes, and what she felt about it was bitter resent
ment and pain.
Another man who could control her with
his force—even if his was a different kind of force.
Another man who could make her do things she didn't want to do, feel things she didn't want to feel.
Another
man who wanted to use her to satisfy his own needs no
matter what it cost her.

She managed to get through the evening, though
watching Adrian smile at Lissa over the chessboard and tease her made Julia's stomach sicken and churn. For the first time, she wondered if she might be wrong in hiding
the truth from her sister. Perhaps for Lissa's own
protection she should teach her what men could hide
beneath charming
smiles.
Perhaps innocence was some
thing else that cost too much.

Julia was still undecided when they went to bed that night, but the morning brought the only decision possible. Whether Lissa did or did not deserve to know the
truth, Julia decided that her sister's ignorance of what
was going on was her safeguard. If she knew, she'd confront Adrian, and that was the one thing Julia had sworn to herself would never happen.

Adrian left for his office at the usual time, already looking wilted and irritable from the heat; Julia dreaded the mood he'd be in by the time he came home. Lissa helped around the house during the morning,
then
went out shopping with two of her friends. Julia tried to keep
busy, but two days of steady work had accomplished
everything necessary for the party, and by early afternoon she found herself at loose ends.

For the first time, the house felt hot to her, smothering almost, but she was still wary of venturing out in public for fear of encountering Cyrus. She considered and discarded an impulse to walk in the garden; there were no shady spots out there, and most of the midsum
mer flowers had been burned dry by the unrelenting
sun, so it would hardly be a pleasant walk. Without
really deciding to do so, she went to the stables in back
of the house.

It was relatively cool inside the wide hall and very peaceful. Only the faint sounds of movement from the
drowsy horses disturbed the silence. The men who cared
for the horses were absent, so she was alone with them. Lissa had taken one of the carriages and a driver, giving
in to Julia's suggestion because of the heat; Adrian had taken the other this morning, planning to send his groom
and stableman to look over some horses due to be auctioned the following day.

For a few minutes she wandered from stall to stall,
speaking softly to the horses and stroking satiny necks. Out of the house she felt more peaceful, though it was a tenuous peace easily disturbed. The shock of his voice
shattered it.

"The horses are comfortable with you. I thought they would be."

She whirled around, staring in alarm. "Are you out of your mind?" she whispered.

Cyrus Fortune stepped out of the shadows, smiling
faintly. "No one saw me come in," he said, knowing why
she was so disturbed. "No one ever has to know I was here. The grooms will be gone for hours yet, and
Drummond and your sister as well."

Julia took a step back as he came toward her, but there
was no way for her to retreat farther without cornering
herself in an empty stall. She felt emotionally cornered. "Leave me alone," she said shakily, control demolished
along with peace.

Cyrus stopped immediately, a little more than an
arm's length away, and his smile faded. In the dimness of the barn hall, his black eyes were liquid. "Are you afraid
of me, Julia?" There was surprise and something else in
his deep
voice,
something she could have sworn was
anxiety.

Her laugh sounded a little wild to her own ears, and she wondered dimly if she had finally crossed the line
into madness. "Afraid? Whatever I say, you won't stay
away from me. Shouldn't I be afraid?"

"No. I won't force myself on you, if you've that in your
mind. I want you willing." He still sounded surprised.

She closed her eyes, struggling to regain some control
over her emotions. "I don't want an affair, can't you under
stand that? Please, just leave me alone. I won't.
..
I
won't break my marriage vows."
After a moment he said, "You're trembling." He
reached his hand toward hers, and when she flinched he
said sharply, "I'm not going to hurt you, Julia."

His tone caused tension to stiffen her body and her
gaze to fall, but she didn't flinch again when he took
her hand, and she didn't struggle or protest when he led
her partway down the barn hall, where there was a
rough wooden bench outside the tack room door.

"Sit down," he said.

It was only when she immediately obeyed that abrupt
command that Julia realized what living with Adrian had
done to her. Cyrus was angry. When she'd heard the emotion in his voice, she had felt an almost smothering
panic and dread, an anxious need to find out what he
wanted or what she'd done wrong so she could somehow
satisfy him. It had become a compulsion to yield to an angry male voice, to submit instantly without question or even another word.
To do anything in an attempt to avoid pain.
Her recognition of the frightened, helpless response made sick shame writhe inside her, hot tears
burn behind eyes taught never to shed them, and kept
her silent as she sat on the bench with her head bent and
her hands folded tightly in her lap.

He went down on one knee, careless of his trousers,
and his big hand covered both of hers. She wasn't
wearing gloves, and the heavy warmth of his hand made
an odd little tremor go through her body. His was a gentle touch without force. His voice, no longer angry,
was the familiar black velvet when he said softly, "Julia,
look at me."

Instantly, she raised her gaze to meet his. His eyes
narrowed briefly, and then he leaned over and kissed
her.

She had been trying desperately to withdraw from him, to retreat into herself as she'd learned to do, but at
the first touch of his warm, hard lips that escape was lost
to her. His black eyes were burning, and she closed hers
to shut out the awful temptation to lose herself in the
fiery dark pools. This time she felt no shock except the
shock of desire.

Everything but that faded out of her mind. The fear and anxiety, the sick shame at what she'd become, and all the memories of pain at the hands of a man were overwhelmed by the emotions and sensations this man made her feel.

He kept one hand on the back of the bench near her shoulder and the other gently holding both of hers, and made no attempt to draw her into his arms. His mouth was a potent seduction, moving slowly and sensuously on hers. His tongue glided between her lips in a caress that made a hot shiver ripple through her body, and she could no more resist him than she could resist her next breath. When her mouth opened to his touch in instinctive need, he accepted the mute invitation and explored deeply in a small possession so searingly intimate it seemed to brand her in a place Adrian had never been able to touch.

Responding was as natural as one beat of her heart following another. Julia wasn't aware that she was kissing him back, that her lips had softened and trembled in
need, that her tongue touched his shyly and with
hunger, and she never heard her own throaty little moan of pleasure.

His mouth hardened for an instant, but then he drew
back to look at her, and murmured huskily, "Is that
anything to fear?"

Julia opened her eyes slowly, feeling dazed and hot. Her lips were throbbing, her whole body was throbbing, and when she looked at him she knew only one thing: if she alone were at risk, she would give in to him without
another word of protest. But it wasn't only she.

"Yes," she whispered, her throat aching.

His lean face tightened a little, but his voice remained
soft and husky. "Do your vows mean so much to you?"

"Shouldn't they?" That reply was a mistake, and she knew it when he smiled slowly.

"When a woman answers a question with another
question, then she's saying no. It isn't your vows stopping you. I know you've found no pleasure with Drum
mond, and I know you want me. I can be discreet, if
that's what's worrying you. No one ever has to know we
are lovers."

Julia swallowed hard, fighting to resist the lure of his
beguiling voice. She barely managed to infuse her own
voice with dry sarcasm. "Did you make such a promise to
all the others?
If so, I can certainly judge the worth of it."

His smile died. "That was different."

"No." She looked at him steadily. "No different. You
were right about one thing; I prefer honesty to lies.
Don't make an empty promise you have no intention of
keeping."

"I don't make empty promises."

She heard a touch of his earlier anger sharpen his
voice, and it made her nervous, but she forced herself to
continue. "Shall I tell you the names of the women
you've been with since you came back to Richmond? At
least one of them told me quite bluntly herself."

"Anne Butler," he said flatly.

"Yes."

"She was the only one, Julia. The only one I slept with
since I returned." Slept with, he thought, was an
inaccurate term in addition to being euphemistic. He had never "slept" with any woman, and none had spent more than an hour or two in his bed.

Her steady gaze wavered slightly. "That isn't what I've
heard. Gossip—"

"Gossip seldom has it right."

She shrugged and looked away. "Even so, you can't
deny how quickly word of your affairs spreads. Perhaps
the others didn't care about that, but I do."

"Stop saying the others as if the path behind me is littered with them," he said roughly, and tried to rein his
temper when she darted him a quick, wary look. In a
quieter voice he said, "I'm not a lecher, whatever you've
heard."

Julia shrugged again. "I'm not an adulteress."

He was beginning to hate the sound of that word, and
it had never bothered him before. He was also more
baffled than he'd ever been in his life. Both frustration
and worry were eating at him. She didn't love her
husband—he was growing to hate, too, the word hus
band—she didn't care about her vows, and she wanted him. Was it really only a fear of public censure that made
her
refuse
him? Whatever it was, he couldn't seem to
find a way around it. He didn't want to hurt her, but
surely finding pleasure in his arms wouldn't hurt her?

Despite his efforts, his voice had roughened again
when he said, "If I kissed you again, would that matter? If I unbuttoned your blouse and opened it, touched you
the way I ache to touch you, would you remember
you're married? If I carried you to a pile of hay over there and pressed you back into it and lifted your skirts,
would you be able to stop me?"