The Wild Child (27 page)

He gasped and began thrusting uncontrollably, the force of his movements driving them crazily across the carpet until they were against the divan. She clung to him, her limbs locking around his back and hips as he penetrated not only her body but her soul, filling her with radiance, driving out the shadows that had haunted her for a lifetime.

He cried out and went rigid, violent tremors racking him as he spilled his seed within her. Once more she spun into madness, and learned that fulfillment was even greater when they rumbled into the abyss in each other’s arms.

As passion ebbed, he held her close. Blood and spirit and breath returned to normal. And with sanity came the bleak necessity of facing the new land into which she had been reborn. Peace. Contentment. Love. He lay on his side, dreamily caressing her back as she hid her face in his shoulder, her shining hair spilling every which way. He felt a sense of wonder that she had finally dared to speak, dissolving the last barrier between them. Though he admitted wryly that words could not begin to describe such wonders as what had just passed between them.

Their sweat-slicked bodies were cooling in the evening air, so he pulled a folded blanket off the bench above and tucked it around them both. How long would they be able to savor this precious, simple closeness before they must deaf with the fact that Pandora’s box had been opened, and could never be closed again?

Not long, for as he settled down again he realized that she was quietly crying. Alarmed, he brushed the heavy hair from her face so that he could see her expression. “What’s wrong, Meriel? Did I hurt you?”

She shook her head, and hid her face again.

“Then why are you crying as if your heart is breaking?” he murmured against her temple. She felt so fragile as he held her. His contentment vanished as he berated himself for allowing passion to overwhelm judgment. “Tell me what’s wrong, sweeting. Now that you’ve proved you can talk, I want to hear everything you have to say.”

Her voice a husky whisper, she said, “I had not known… how lonely I was.”

Her words tore at his heart. He’d wanted her to become vulnerable to him, and now that she was, he could scarcely bear it. Tenderly, he brushed the tears from her cheeks. “You’ll never have to be lonely again, not as long as I live.”

She sighed a little, not convinced. Realizing uneasily that he had just made a sweeping promise that he might be unable to fulfill, he changed the subject. “You’ve never spoken to anyone else, not even Kamal?”

“No need.” She rolled from his embrace onto her back, saying with tart humor, “Kamal does not plague me as you do.”

He grinned. “I assume that even though people spoke in front of you as if you were a piece of furniture, you’ve always understood everything around you.”

She shrugged. “When I listened.”

He suspected that she had ignored the world more often than not. “When you paid attention, I imagine that you learned much more than anyone gave you credit for.”

Her lips curved into a faint smile. “Perhaps.”

He could see the effort it took for her to use language after so many years without speaking. If not for her wordless songs, her voice might have withered away altogether. “I can see that you intend to be a woman of few words.”

She slanted a wicked glance. “You talk enough for two.”

He laughed. “With you silent, I had to. Until now.” He propped his head up on his hand, his gaze on her face. “Why have you deliberately cut yourself off from normal human interactions? You were very young when you made that decision.”

“It was not like that,” she said slowly. “The fire, the slaughter, the captivity, were more than I could bear.” Her eyes closed for a moment as pain spasmed across her face. “In my mind I came back to Warfield, ignoring the zenana as much as possible. It was not until long after I returned home I started to turn outward again. By then, I had lost the habit of speech. And… I liked my life as it was. I had everything I wanted. Speaking—being considered normal—would have changed that.”

“And you did not want change.”

She did not bother to reply. He studied her delicate profile, seeing the sensitive child who had gone through hell and had only gradually begun to heal after returning to her beloved home. It was easy to understand why she hadn’t wished to trade a comfortable life with great freedom for the dubious advantages of “normal” existence. His own sister had railed at the confines of ladylike restrictions more than once.

But Meriel’s yearnings for passion and closeness were bringing change whether she wanted it or not. It was time to begin clearing the air. “Were you listening when Lord Maxwell first came to Warfield?”

“Kyle Renbourne. Viscount Maxwell.” Her eyes glinted. “A major prize in the Marriage Mart.”

One of the ladies must have used that term. He smiled, but only briefly, for the reminder of Kyle was sobering. He had been torn between loyalty to his brother and to Meriel. Now his reckless self-indulgence meant that he was irrevocably committed to her, and Kyle would never forgive him. Burying his pain at that thought for later, he said bluntly, “I’m not Lord Maxwell.”

Her gaze sharpened. “Not Renbourne?”

“Yes, but Dominic Renbourne, not Kyle. I’m Lord Maxwell’s twin brother.” He grimaced. “I’m not proud of this, Meriel. Since we look enough alike to fool people who don’t know us well, Kyle asked me to take his place so he could be elsewhere. Though I didn’t want to, he was… persuasive. I thought coming to Warfield would be a simple matter. I would say little, let you become accustomed to me—or rather, someone who looked like me. Then leave.”

Catching her gaze, he said intensely, “I didn’t expect to fall in love with you, but I have. That changes everything.”

To his relief, she didn’t recoil in horror, but neither did she declare love for him as he had secretly hoped. Instead, she regarded him with coolly assessing eyes. “So. No wonder you seemed different. More dangerous.”

“Me, dangerous?” he said, genuinely startled. “Kyle can be an awkward devil, but I’ve always had an easy disposition.”

Ignoring that, she said, “Kyle is a hard name, all edges. I like Dominic better.”

“Good. I hope you like Dominic well enough to marry me, since I have well and truly compromised you.” He took her hand. “Though I’m not the prize in the Marriage Mart my brother is, I do love you. I hope that’s good enough.”

She drew away and sat up. One end of the sari lay within reach, so she pulled the fabric loosely around her, though the sheer silk emphasized rather than concealed her nakedness. “Such a passion you have for marriage. I do not share it.”

A chill went through him. He should have known that speech would not instantly resolve all differences.

“Only wedded couples are supposed to behave as we have.”

Her brows arched with disbelief. “You have never mated before?”

“I have known other women, but none like you.”

Her eyes narrowed. “None so rich?”

His jaw tightened. She had picked up a great deal of cynicism in her overheard conversations. “None has been so rich,” he agreed, “but it is not your wealth that draws me, Meriel. I would gladly marry you even if you were penniless.”

She cocked her head to one side, the golden earrings swinging with a faint, teasing tching. “You have a fortune?”

“No,” he said steadily. “A small independent income, but not a fortune.”

“So your brother, who is rich, wishes to marry me for my money, while you, who are poor, do not.” She injected an unnerving amount of disbelief into her voice.

He sighed. “This is a question that must be answered by faith, not proof, sprite. You either believe me or you don’t.”

Her mouth twisted. “And what do I know of men? How can I judge?”

“You can listen to your heart,” he said quietly.

“My heart says that change is coming too quickly.” Her cynicism vanished, leaving stark discomfort.

“For a woman, marriage means trusting her body and property wholly to the ownership of a man. When I was drawing mehndi on Jena Ames, she told me what had happened to her. Why should I risk that when I don’t have to?”

Why indeed, if she didn’t love or trust him. Fighting down his resentment at how easily she dismissed his declaration, he got to his feet and pulled on his trousers and shirt. The brazier had burned out, but heavily scented smoke still clouded the room, so he drew the draperies back from a window and opened the casements. Then he leaned out and filled his lungs with clean, damp air. He thought back on the affairs he’d had. Though he’d never been a womanizer, he’d experienced his share of the delights of the flesh. He’d lain with randy widows, lusty maids, and sometimes bored wives. But he’d never been involved in a relationship where either party thought their liaison was anything more than a passing pleasure.

Until Meriel, where “till death do us part” seemed like the only possible outcome for the intimacies they had shared. Most gently bred young ladies would agree wholeheartedly, but she was not like anyone else. Not that he wanted her to become conventional at the price of her magical uniqueness— but marriage was one convention he dearly wished she would embrace.

The increasing clarity of his thoughts reminded him of an earlier question. He turned, folding his arms over his chest. “What did you burn in the brazier?”

“Mostly frankincense.” She began to braid her hair. “A little opium.”

“My God, opium?” He stared at her. So that was why his thoughts had been scrambled, and his sorely tried willpower had finally snapped. “How could you?”

She shrugged. “You were so stubborn. Strong measures were required.”

Her casualness was a forceful reminder of how different she was. She truly did not see the outrageousness of her behavior. Wanting to make her understand, he asked dryly, “What would you think of a man who used strong drink to seduce a lady?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Despicable.”

So she had learned at least some morality from her guardians. “Is it any more right that you used a drug to persuade me to do something against my will?”

She froze, her braiding hands still. “You seemed willing to me.”

“My body certainly was,” he said sharply. “But my conscience forbade sexual intimacy because it would be wrong. Though it wasn’t easy, I had managed to behave honorably— until you saw fit to drug me.”

Her face tightened. “Why do you think our mating was wrong?”

“Because you are betrothed to my brother, not me.” He frowned, seeking the right words. “And even more because no man of honor should take advantage of a young woman whose judgment is impaired. Such behavior is beneath contempt.”

Her eyes narrowed to feline slits. “You think me mad?”

“Not mad. But your upbringing has been so unusual that you cannot fully understand society’s dictates, and why they should be obeyed.”

She resumed her braiding. “Your honor is safe, Renbourne. I was the evil seducer, not you.”

He made an impatient gesture with his hand. “What matters is not blame, but consequences.” He hesitated, realizing he must ask an awkward question, not only to satisfy his own curiosity, but because the answer could make a difference in their situation. “Have you ever… lain with another man?”

She sighed, her anger draining away. “No, though I was not virgin. In the zenana, there was talk of giving me to a neighboring rajah as a concubine. My hair made me a great novelty, and it is not unknown for small girls to become brides in India. Concerned because I was so little, one of the older women, Asma, used a stone lingam to remove my maidenhead.”

He would not have understood if he hadn’t seen a lingam during his school days. The son of an Indian army officer had produced one to impress his classmates, and the boys had passed around the crudely carved male organ with fascination and nervous laughter. He was appalled to think of a delicate child being subjected to such a barbaric ritual. “How horrible for you.”

“It was kindly meant, to spare me undue suffering.” She crossed her arms on her drawn-up knees and rested her head on them, hiding her face. “Asma was whipped for tampering with me, and it was decided that I should be given back to the English. Perhaps Asma foresaw that might happen.”

He could only dimly grasp how alien her experiences had been. No wonder she was frank about subjects that would make a more sheltered girl swoon, or that she had returned to her own people permanently altered. Trying to be as matter-of-fact as she, he said, “Despite the lingam, you were a virgin, which means that marriage is the proper course. Would that be so bad? I had thought you cared for me.”

Her eyes softened, for he hadn’t quite managed to keep emotion from his voice. “You know I do, but that doesn’t mean I want marriage.” She gazed at him pleadingly. “Can’t we stay as we are? These last weeks have been so happy.”

He sighed. “That’s not possible, sprite. This visit is courtship intended to lead to marriage. The world would be horrified if we chose to live together unwed. Your guardians would never permit it, even if I’m willing to be seen as a seducer of innocence, which I am not. If we don’t marry, I must leave.”

Her jaw set stubbornly. “I am Lady of Warfield. How dare anyone censure me!”

Shades of her medieval ancestors. History books and ancient journals lined her bookshelves, and had obviously affected her thinking. “This is the world we must live in, Meriel. If you were a widow of mature years, you could offer me some post such as business manager and we could be together if we were discreet about it. But you are young and beautiful and thought to be disordered in your wits, which is very different.”

She scowled. “That is not just.”

“Perhaps not, but the time has come to pay the price for your years of doing exactly what you wanted and letting the world think you mad,” he said bluntly. “Even though you are now speaking, it will take time for your family to accept you as a sane, intelligent woman capable of making her own decisions.”

She drew her sari more closely, like a shawl. “I will talk only to you.”

He almost groaned with exasperation. How could she be so intelligent and so blind at the same time?

“You can’t just pretend nothing has happened. If necessary, I’ll tell the ladies that you can speak as well as they do.”