Trust Me (17 page)

Again, he shook
himself. Christ, he was allowing himself to be jerked back and forth by her
insecurity. This was Anne, his knotty-headed Anne. Despite being twenty-two and
a widow, she was the next thing to a girl.

He shook his head.
“Nan, you are showing your inexperience. I never felt anything like I feel for
you about anyone else. Ever.”

“It has been a very
short time. The feeling could still fade. And when—if that happens, I want us
to try and have an amicable union.”

An amicable union.

The words
reverberated through him with chilling effect.

Hells. Bells.

He never, ever wanted
to have an
amicable union
with her.

How could she even
form the words in her mind, much less speak them?

“I just want to
negotiate terms for—”

“
Terms?
Terms
for what?”

She flinched. He’d
spoken too sharply. He was losing control. He took a long, deep breath. “Anne,
I shan’t keep a mistress again. I’ve told you this.”

“Yes and I do believe
you.”

“Then what the devil
is all of this about?”

“But what about the
odd…” She bit her lip and frowned a moment. “Lucky circumstance.”

“Lucky circumstance?”

“Yes. Say you are
here in London and meet a willing lady in the gardens or a conservancy.”

“Anne, do you
honestly imagine I wouldn’t be able to wait an hour or two until I should once
again be with you?”

“What if I am in the
country?”

“No, no, you will not
hide in the country as you did with Cranfield.”

“We shall have
children. They shall need me at times. Even you cannot order me to abandon my
children.”

“Abandon them? Good
God, Anne, we shall have a staff to help with them.”

“What if they were ill?
I would never leave my children if they were ill.”

“If our children were
truly ill, what would I be doing in London alone?”

“Attending to your
duties in Parliament.”

“Leaving you all
alone with our ill children?”

“Well, they might not
be ill.”

“No?”

“No, I could be with
child.”

It was as though
someone had punched him squarely in his gut. The breath seemed knocked from him
and he gaped at her.

“You must admit, all
gentlemen accept it as their privilege to indulge in these meaningless,
fleeting liaisons.”

He arose from the
bed, pulled on his banyan and went to the sideboard in their sitting chamber
and poured himself a Scotch.

On the inside, he was
shaking again. He could feel her eyes burning into his back, but he daren’t
turn to face her.

He didn’t trust
himself to speak.

Not until he’d
regained his control.

He tipped the glass
to his lips. But his throat was nearly too tight to swallow. He slammed the
glass down on the sideboard.

“Jon!”

He turned to her. “My
lady?”

“I want to discuss
this, I want to settle matters between us so that—”

He held up a
forestalling hand. “Don’t say another word.”

“But Jon—”

“My lady, get
yourself back to bed. I think you need a rest from your wild imagination.”

Her nostrils flared
slightly. “Imagination!”

“Yes, your never ceasing
fanciful mind. Creating problems where none exist.”

“I am trying to be
logical. Realistic.”

He walked into his
own chamber, tore off his banyan and began to dress. “Hold that thought until
later, my lady. I am going for a ride.”

“It is night time!”

He picked up his
boots. “I don’t care,” he said, and stormed from their suite half-dressed.

Chapter Nine

The steady drum of
hooves on the ground, the feel of the powerful animal beneath him couldn’t
drown out Jon’s thoughts.

I could be with
child.

But what about the
odd… lucky circumstance.

Anne said all
gentlemen saw it as their privilege to engage in fleeting sexual encounters
with willing women.

Be honest, you
would too.

The unbidden thought
sent a surge of rage through him.

Honestly? He hadn’t thought
about it. But now that he did, God, what a repulsive image: Anne pregnant and
alone in the country and himself sweating and thrusting over some silly-headed
flirt in a Mayfair garden.

That Anne expected
him to succumb to those fleeting temptations… It felt almost like a betrayal.
Her disloyal distrust.

But what right had he
to feel betrayed by any suspicion on her part? Hadn’t he lived a rather amoral,
carnal life before he’d met her?

The Duchess of
Lukecaster, or Lady Green Eyes, as he had once referred to her in his thoughts.
With her cameo-perfect beauty and her long legs and her grand, old bloodline.
Such an over-proud bitch, with her discriminating, fastidious tastes. When she
had paused last March and given him a second glance, he’d been aware of just
how rare a conquest she would be.

And yes, he had
invested quite some time during the spring laying a foundation. Courting her in
the systematic way he did all of his women. He had previously expected that
foundation of flirtation to pay off in a brief
affaire
this fall.

Yes, she had made
clear today, through her playful banter, that she was still looking forward to
the consummation of their flirtation, no matter that he was a newly-wedded man.

Well, he had no
intentions of fulfilling her desire. Not now.

But what about
later…

No, certainly he
didn’t intend to—

Careful now, don’t
look too deeply. Once a gentleman, always a gentleman.

Grandmother’s
oft-voiced proclamation about gentlemen rang in his mind. The old woman was
perceptive, he’d give her that.

A nobleman’s
privilege. Every Mayfair wife knew not to expect complete fidelity. Anne wasn’t
just spinning wild stories from her imagination. And he’d been unfair to accuse
her. He ought to have discussed the matter with her calmly.

But his anger had overwhelmed
him.

Because she was
exactly correct.

No, damn it! She
wasn’t correct.

Jon’s hand tightened
on the reins. God! Hadn’t he vowed to her that he would keep no future
mistresses? He wouldn’t hurt Anne by showing favour to another.

Yes, but that’s not
all she was talking about, was it? She was talking about straying. Taking other
women as carelessly as you’d take a meal at your club.

Well, all right.
Maybe she was correct to bring all of this up and to want to speak openly of
her expectations. Maybe he hadn’t thought deeply about any of this. He hadn’t
known what might have been lurking deep in his conscience before this night.

Because it was just
custom. A nobleman gave his wife love and respect and luxury. He gave his
mistress comfort and security. But around the fringes of his life, in those
solitary moments—those
lucky occurrences
,
as Anne had so aptly named them—, he did as he pleased, no matter anyone else’s
feelings on the issue.

If he ever did that, Anne
would know. She’d sense it. He wouldn’t necessarily lose her love. But he would
lose her openness to accept his own.

Oh God, all of this
was ludicrous. Right now, he couldn’t even
think
of another woman. He was consumed with his wife. Today he had looked upon Lady
Green Eyes and felt not the barest stirring of lust.

A memory flashed in
his mind. Anne telling him, haltingly, of the trauma of the carriage accident,
of her fears, of her belief that he could help her.

And her face.

The abject trust and
belief that he alone could chase away all her ghosts and demons. It had been
breathtaking, exhilarating.

No one had ever
looked at him like that.

No one had ever
believed in him like that.

She never looked at
him that way anymore. Since their arrival in London, she had taken to looking
as though she were waiting for—for what? For him to fail her? To hurt her?
Betray her?

If only they could
have gone directly to Scotland and had their isolated winter. Alone together,
they would have become more powerfully united, and only then returned to face
the trials and tests of Mayfair. She would have come to depend on and believe
in him so deeply, she’d never have been able even to imagine him betraying her.

He had to make more
of an effort to connect with her. Since coming to Mayfair, he too had allowed
himself to be distracted by old ghosts and demons. If he wanted to win his wife
for all time, he must put all that aside and concentrate on their bond.

Possession.

That was what was it
was all about. He must possess her forever.

Or die trying.

****

Anne cradled her
teacup in her hands, staring up at Jon through bleary eyes as he stood beside
her bed. Clearly she had angered and offended him. After he had left her, she
hadn’t slept a wink.

She’d lain in her bed
until past noon. Lain there thinking and feeling dreadful about her behaviour.

But he was smiling at
her now, as though nothing were amiss. He was freshly shaven, for his skin
looked faintly moist and she could smell his shaving soap. His hair was
perfectly arranged, as it might be for an evening out.

Only the red in the
whites of his eyes gave away that he had passed as sleepless a night as she.

“My darling.” A
wealth of emotion resonated in his tone.

She offered him a
tentative smile.

He reached into his
coat pocket and pulled out a small box. “What do you have there?” She attempted
to sound light and teasing.

“A wedding present.”

 
“Oh my, another present.”

They appeared to be
pretending that last night’s quarrel had never happened.

Maybe that was for
the best?

She didn’t know. It
wasn’t like her to be so emotional. So confrontational. But seeing all of his
womanising, laid open like that—

Yet, what right had
she to go prying into his previous life like that?

No, no, it was
definitely for the best to pretend last night hadn’t happened. She widened her
smile.

“I would shower you
with presents.”

She laughed softly.
“How gallant of you.”

He was staring at
her, his gaze seeming to devour her whole.

A faint scratching
sounded upon the door to their suite, followed by a bark. Tiberia.

Jon appeared to shake
himself. “Hold on, old girl,” he called to the door.

 
He opened the box.

Upon the bed of dark
red velvet, a gold chain glittered in the sunlight and blue fire sparkled from
the heart-shaped pendant.

A perfect sapphire.

For a moment, she
could only gape.

“It’s lovely.” No, it
was exceedingly lovely. Exquisite.

He touched her under
the chin. She allowed him to tip her face up until she met his gaze. “I fear it
will appear dull next to your beautiful eyes.”

Her smile widened
despite her trembling lips.

“Depending on what
you wear or where you go, you may adjust it like this.” He showed her how the
gold chain could be made to fit at two different lengths. One to show above her
bodices and one to hide between her breasts. He stood up, lifted her hair off
her nape and then placed it about her neck and fastened the clasp.

“This means more
between us than the wedding ring I gave you. This marks my possession, my
ownership of you.” He said the words with deliberation as he ran his fingertip
over the links of the gold chain, from her collarbone down to the valley
between her breasts. A shiver raced through her at his feather-soft touch.

“It also marks your
willingness to be owned by me. If one of us decides to break this bond of my possession,
then I will take this necklace back.” He looked up. “Or you might give it back
to me.” He grinned slightly. “One hopes you would not throw it at me.”

“You mean something
like a…” She frowned, her heart beating faster at the terrible prospect he was
raising. “A
congé
?”

His grin faded and he
nodded slowly. “Yes. Though we would still remain married until parted by
death, and I will always provide for you, always protect you. But our legal
bond and my obligations to that bond are very different from this private
bond.”

****

“My, what a brave
girl you are.”

Anne clasped her
hands tightly and forced a trembling smile. Her gloves were soaked with sweat.
The night before she’d had so little sleep and this morning’s deep discussion
over his potential infidelity had been exhausting for them both.

They had decided upon
having a stroll in Hyde Park and the exercise had proved beneficial. They had
found some renewed harmony in each other’s company. But that had been cut short
by their having met Lady Maria Waterbury along the path.

The beautiful,
sophisticated woman opposite her laughed. “Marrying such a wicked, fierce
gentleman.”

“That’s enough,
Maria.” Jon spoke low and his deep voice resounded with calm, yet beneath there
was a hint of ire.

“I just want to let
Lady Ruel know that I bear no grudges. I would be a friend to her,” Maria said.

“I know you will.”
Was there a whisper of a veiled threat in Jon’s velvet tone?

Another cramp twisted
in Anne’s stomach. She did not like the false manners and double-meanings.
Trying to decipher all the nuances was enough to give her a headache.

“She will need
friends, wed in scandal as you have been.”

Jon laughed softly.
“It is a trifling scandal at that.”

“Trifling? You call
it trifling for people to say that your wife is—” Maria’s voice cut off.

Anne jerked her head
up. Lady Waterbury’s attention was focused on Jon, her eyes wide. He was
frowning, his expression even fiercer than usual as he held Maria’s gaze. Then
she noticed that he was gripping Maria’s arm.

He was going to cause
a terrible scene. It would only add to the gossip.

Maria’s shocked
expression turned into a glare. She jerked her arm, trying to free herself from
his grasp.

“Maria, I would think
that you of all people would never stoop to repeating baseless gossip.” Jon
released his former fiancée’s arm.

A sneer marred
Maria’s perfect features. “You didn’t tell her?”

Anne glanced between
the two of them. What was happening? She frowned. “Tell me what?”

“Oh, you naughty
boy.” Maria shook her head and wagged her finger at Jon. “Keeping secrets
already. It is not the way to begin a marriage.”

“Enough. It is time
you were going.” Jon’s voice was curt, tight.

Lady Waterbury’s eyes
flashed and she bared her teeth in a terrible caricature of a smile. “My,
that’s a fine way to speak to me when I only wish you well, especially
considering—”

“Maria.” Jon’s voice,
icily polite, sent shivers through Anne.

Lady Waterbury turned
to Anne. “Forgive me, Lady Ruel, it appears I must make yet another abrupt
departure.” She raised her finely arched brows. “Do you see the way your
husband is? This is his true nature. Nevertheless, I wish you much…” She made a
moue. “Joy of him.”

She left them in a
swish of skirts and a strong lemon-and-carnation scent.

Anne couldn’t hold
back a shudder. “She despises me.”

Jon turned to her.
“Don’t be ridiculous. She’d do anything for the chance to have your pretty legs
wrapped around her head.”

Oh God, that was more
complication than she wanted to cope with right now. Her stomach lurched from
the tension. “Goodness, Jon. Must you always be so blunt?”

He narrowed his gaze.
“Don’t trust her. Never. Not even for a moment.”

“But she was going to
be your wife.”

“Aye, but now she
isn’t. That makes all the difference.” He offered her his hands. “Come, let us
return home.”

She didn’t take his
hands. “Jon, what did she mean by ‘keeping secrets’?”

He took her hands and
tugged. “We can discuss it later.”

She let him pull her
to her feet. “No, I want to know now.”