Suddenly You(77)

Jack saw that sign of weakness, and something in his face relaxed. “Don’t cry. There is no need for tears, mhuirnin,” he said in a gentler voice.

She could hardly speak; her throat was clotted with misery. “Where are you taking me?”

“To my home.”

“I—I need to speak with Charles first.”

“Amanda,” he said softly, “do you think he can save you from me?”

Yes, yes, her mind cried silently. But as she stared up into the dark face of the man who had once been her lover and was now her adversary, all hope was burned to ashes. There were two sides to Jack Devlin, the charming rogue and the ruthless manipulator. He would do whatever was necessary to have his way. “No,” she whispered bitterly.

Despite the excruciating tension between them, Jack smiled slightly. “Fifteen minutes,” he warned, and left her shivering in the darkness.

It was testament to Jack’s skill as a negotiator that he was quiet during the carriage ride to his house. While he maintained a strategic silence, Amanda stewed in a mixture of confusion and outrage. Her stays and laces seemed to compress her upper body until she could barely breathe. The pale blue silk gown that had felt so light and elegant earlier this evening was now tight and uncomfortable, and her jewelry was too heavy. The pins in her hair scratched her scalp. She felt trapped, bound, and utterly miserable. By the time they reached their destination, her internal debate had left her exhausted.

The marble entrance hall was dimly lit, with only one lamp to relieve the shadows upon the pristine facades of marble statues. Most of the servants had retired for bed, except a butler and two footmen. Starlight streamed through a stained-glass window above, sending rays of lavender, blue, and green across the central staircase.

Keeping one hand at the small of Amanda’s back, Jack guided her up two flights of stairs. They entered into a suite of rooms she had never seen before, a private receiving room that connected to a bedroom beyond. Their affair had been conducted at her home, not his, and Amanda stared curiously at the unfamiliar surroundings. It was a dark, luxuriously masculine retreat, the walls covered in stamped leather, the floors thickly carpeted in an Aubusson pattern of crimson and gold.

Deftly Jack lit a lamp, then came to her. He removed her gloves, gently tugging at the tip of each finger to loosen them. She stiffened as her bare hands were enclosed in the warm strength of his.

“This is my fault, not yours,” he said quietly. His thumbs stroked over the blunt points of her knuckles. “I was the experienced partner in our affair. I should have taken more care to prevent this from happening.”

“Yes, you should have.”

Jack clasped her against his body, ignoring the way she flinched when his arms closed around her back. His nearness caused gooseflesh to rise all over her body, and a nerveless, excited quiver ran through her. Gently he pulled her closer and spoke into the curling mass of her pinned-up hair.

“Do you love Hartley?”

Dear Lord, how she wanted to lie. Her mouth spasmed as she tried to form the word “yes,” but she couldn’t seem to make a sound. Finally her shoulders slumped in defeat, and she felt weak all over from the silent struggle. “No,” she said hoarsely. “I like and esteem him, but it is not love.”

He let out a sigh, his hands moving from her arms to her back. “I’ve wanted you, Amanda. Every damn day since I left you. I thought about going to another woman, but I couldn’t.”

“If you are asking me to continue our affair, I can’t.” Hot tears tipped over her lashes. “I will not become your mistress and condemn my child to a life of secrecy and shame.”

Jack’s hand slid beneath her chin, and he forced her to look at him. There was a strange mixture of tenderness and ruthless purpose in his expression. “When I was a boy, I used to wonder why I had been born a bastard, why I didn’t have a family like other children did. Instead, I watched my mother take a string of lovers, hoping to God each time that she could get one of them to marry her. With every new man who appeared, she told me to call him Papa…until the word lost all meaning for me. Understand this, Amanda. My child will not grow up without his real father. I want to give him my name. I want to marry you.”

The moment spun out with a queer, dizzying flourish, and she swayed against him. “You don’t really want to marry me. You want to ease your conscience by telling yourself that you’ve done the honorable thing. But soon you will tire of me, and before long I will find myself stashed away in the country so that you may conveniently forget about me and our child—”

Jack interrupted the slew of bitter, fearful words by shaking her briefly, his face turning hard. “You don’t really believe that, dammit. Do you have so little trust in me?” As he read the answer in her eyes, he swore beneath his breath. “Amanda…you know that I never break my promises. I promise that I will be a good husband. A good father.”

“You don’t know how to be those things!”

“I can learn.”

“One does not ‘learn’ to want a family,” she said scornfully.

“But I do want you.” Jack kissed her, his mouth pressing and demanding until she opened to welcome him inside. His hands moved over her back and bu**ocks, molding and squeezing as if he were trying to pull her inside himself. Even through the layers of her skirts, she could feel the hard, arching shape of his arousal. “Amanda,” he said raggedly, rubbing his lips over her face and hair, imprinting kisses on every part of her he could reach. “I can’t stop wanting you…needing you. I’ve got to have you. And you need me, too, even if you are too stubborn to admit it.”