Trial by Desire (Carhart #2)(51)

He wanted her to stay. He wanted to own not just her body, but her easy self-possession. To feel the strength of her seep into him as she slept beside him at night. All he would have to do was light a spill from the oil lamp and start the kindling going with a little bit of fire.

She wouldn’t understand what that bit of warmth would mean to him. She would see it as light and heat, not another aspect of his control, ceded to someone else. She had no way to know what he feared, had no need to fight the encroaching darkness.

“Right.” She stood and gathered her night rail about her. Even cloaked in that filmy material, she seemed as regal as a queen. “Well, then. I suppose I should go.”

She started to walk away from him.

He stood, took three strides across the room and grabbed her arm.

She looked up at him, her eyes implacable in the reflected lamplight. “What is it?”

He couldn’t say what he meant, so instead he simply hugged her to him. She was soft and lovely, and she smelled like lilac in summer. “It’s not you,” he muttered into her hair. “It’s the fire.”

She pulled away and raised one eyebrow. “That’s comforting,” she said in a tone that suggested she was anything but comforted. And before he could damn himself with faint explanations, she left the room.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

THE MORNING WAS STILL GRAY and misty, the sun not yet over the horizon when Ned arose to say his farewells to Harcroft. The man had dressed and breakfasted by the time Ned’s boots crunched the gravel on the drive. Harcroft’s carriage waited, the boot loaded with the trunks the man had brought.

Ned put out his hand. “Best of luck to you,” he said. “And Godspeed.” The latter he meant; he couldn’t wait until Harcroft had put miles between him and Kate. The former sentiment was about as insincere as he could manage.

The earl clasped his arm briefly and then looked around. “Think on what I told you the other night. Think on it carefully. Because if you do find Louisa here, you’ll have to act in my stead.”

God forbid. Ned shook his head. “I thank you for your concern. You’d best be off. You’ve a long journey ahead of you, and you’ll need every hour of daylight.” He glanced behind him.

“Looking for your wife?” Harcroft asked dryly. “Still nervous about her, eh? Still asking for her permission for every touch, and cringing like a child if she says no?”

“Not quite.” Ned saw no reason to share the complicated details of his life with a man who believed that intimacy ought to be conducted with fists and blows. He looked away in exasperation.

But Harcroft must have read agreement into his averted gaze because the man clapped him on the shoulders. “There. If that doesn’t motivate you, nothing will. Trust me. True men don’t ask. They take.”

In Ned’s estimation, real men didn’t throw tantrums if their whim was thwarted.

“Quite right,” he said. “And, oh, do look at the time! You really should be on your way.”

“Come, Carhart. Tell me you’ll rein your wife in.”

“She’s my wife.” He glanced over at the man. And it really is none of your concern. “Why does it matter so much?”

Harcroft chewed his lip before leaning in close to impart his secret. “Because I think she may have instigated whatever happened with Louisa. I’ve been thinking it over, and Louisa didn’t start truly questioning my authority until she and Kate became friends. In fact, I’m sure of it. Your wife set her against me in some female fashion. I’m certain of it, although I can’t prove how—although with women, one has to just trust one’s instincts.”

“My instincts differ,” Ned said carefully.

Harcroft straightened, brushing his coat down. “If you won’t rein your wife in, I’ll do it for you.”

Ned’s hands cramped with the effort of not clenching into fists. He stepped forward, squaring his shoulders. “What, precisely, are you threatening my wife with?” he asked.

Harcroft glanced at Ned’s shoulders once, and then smiled uneasily. “Oh, don’t be so melodramatic. When I find Louisa again, I’ll need to make sure she’s not exposed to unsavory influences. I’d hate for you to be considered one of those.”

Harcroft had fenced as long as Ned had known him. He was good with a rapier and quick on his feet. In all those years that Ned had known him, that confidence had made Ned believe the man was taller than he was. But standing shoulder-to-shoulder with the earl, Ned realized for the first time that he was actually taller. And after months aboard ship, where he’d labored alongside common seamen, Ned was stronger, too.

No amount of expertise with a rapier could save Harcroft from someone who had two stone on him. It helped alleviate some of Ned’s wariness.

“Don’t worry,” Ned replied, as carefully airy as Harcroft. “I’m not about to engage in anything untoward, and you can rely on my promise to free my wife from all unsavory influences.” Such as you.

“Good man.” Harcroft smiled. “I knew I could depend upon you.” And then he paused, as if waiting for Ned to return the compliment.

Ned ought to have done so. One little lie would put distance between Harcroft and his wife. But the words choked in his throat, as bitter and cutting as cinder. “I’ll take care of matters here,” he finally managed.