* * *

  Alasdair closed his eyes in despair at her words. She felt so bloody good. How could she feel so good when he knew what she was? When he’d watched her laugh about him with her young lover yesterday? When being with her violated every oath he’d made to himself last night as he’d tossed and turned, unable to sleep? Each time he’d closed his eyes, he’d relived her tryst in the alley. The way she’d thrown herself into her lover’s arms and he’d pulled her close and wiped her tears, held her hands and kissed them. She’d cried. She’d cried over leaving him. She’d never cried over Alasdair, had she? No, she’d crawled out his damn window with his priceless pearl without so much as a backward glance. She’d flounced out of Hil’s library with murder in her eyes.

  He thrust against her and she cried out at his rough handling. He was drowning in her. Drowning in her scent and her heat and her voice. Drowning in her duplicity and her greed and her deception. He hated how much he still wanted her. Hated this secret weakness he had for her. Only the thought of having her again was keeping him going. She fought against him and he wanted to curse at how perfect she felt. But she was right, damn it. This wasn’t what he wanted from her. Not like this.

  He wanted to scream at the injustice of it. At the injustice of finally finding a woman who drove him mad with desire only to discover that she didn’t care. That he was a means to an end, a joke, a fool to be fleeced and nothing more. And to find that she would give another man more than she had given him was degrading and infuriating.

  He released her hands, slamming his palms against the shed on either side of her. Her arms snaked around his neck as she buried her face in the curve of his shoulder. She sobbed, but he was the one in pain. She made him ache when he was around her, he wanted her so badly.

  “Julianna?” A woman’s voice called out from the house and Alasdair froze. Julianna’s head jerked up and she stared at him in fear.

  Her face was streaked with tears, her eyes red rimmed, and the expression on her face cut him like a knife. Horror swamped him. What had he done? What was he doing? He’d almost violated her unforgivably. She’d begged him not to, and he hadn’t listened. He’d been so lost in his own anger and despair that he’d hurt her and nearly taken her against her will. No matter what she’d done to him she didn’t deserve this. He stumbled slightly and she gripped him tighter.

  “Julianna?” The voice was closer.

  She grabbed Alasdair’s head and pulled his ear to her mouth. “Shhh,” she whispered, so quietly that he had to strain to hear. He nodded. Yes, he’d be silent. He didn’t want anyone to know what a bastard he was. He didn’t want anyone to think less of her. This wasn’t her fault. None of it was. He wished to God he could remove his hateful presence from her sight. He knew she must be mortified right now, embarrassed and uncomfortable. She must hate him now.

  Then he felt her lips on his cheek, and his eyes flew to hers. Surely she couldn’t want him now. Didn’t she understand that what he’d done was wrong? He didn’t deserve pleasure of any kind. He didn’t deserve her release, and he damn sure didn’t deserve his own. He didn’t deserve her. Even though she was a thief and a liar she was better than he was.

  “The maid must have been mistaken, Mr. Harte,” Lady Linville said, her voice was fading. “Perhaps Julianna is in her room.”

  As soon as he heard the door close, Alasdair released her and she leaned against the shed, staring at him with wide eyes.

  “Alasdair?” she asked in a very small voice, and his stomach clenched. He thought he might be sick. He reached out and yanked her dress down after untangling it from around her, smoothing it over her legs.

  “I’m sorry,” he rasped, his voice breaking. He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, Miss Harte,” he said more formally. “Please forgive me. I have no excuse. What I did was inexcusable.”

  His hands were shaking. He clenched them. He hadn’t even taken his damn gloves off. He would never call himself a gentleman again. What he had done was reprehensible.

  “Don’t, Alasdair,” she cried out quietly. “It wasn’t your fault. Please. Talk to me. Please.” She reached out and he jerked away from her hand.

  “I must go,” he said abruptly. He spun around, and when he saw his hat, he swept it up into his hand and then stood there, unsure of what to do. Should he leave first? Or should she?

  He couldn’t see her again. Ever.

  “Alasdair,” she pleaded. “Do not blame yourself for whatever you think happened here. I kissed you back. I wanted you. If you would just talk to me, please.”

  At that he could only stare at her, aghast. “ ‘Whatever happened here?’ ” he repeated. “ ‘Whatever happened here?’ I damn near raped you,” he whispered in anguish. “How can I not blame myself for that?”

  He saw her bonnet lying in a crushed heap on the ground and he had to lean over for a moment, his hands on his knees. “I have never done that to a woman before in my life,” he whispered. He shook his head. “I know you won’t believe that, but it is true. God, forgive me, Julianna.”

  “Alasdair,” she whispered, and her hand slid along his shoulders soothingly. But it wasn’t soothing. It was like a hot blade across his back, burning him with guilt. He jerked away and spun toward a gate in the middle of the back fence. He had to leave. He had to get out.

  “Good day, Miss Harte,” he choked out. Then, after looking around the corner of the shed to make sure no one was there, he hurried to the gate and slipped out without a backward glance.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Julianna?” There was a knock on her door. “Julianna, are you in there?”

  It was Lady Linville. She came to her stepdaughter’s room so rarely that Julianna felt a flash of panic when she heard her voice. It was the only reason she rose from the chair she’d been sitting in all afternoon. The sun was setting, she noticed with surprise, and her room was awash in shadows.

  She hurried to the door and threw it open. “Is something wrong?”

  Lady Linville breathed a sigh of relief and clenched her hands together in front of her. “That is what your father and I were wondering.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  The baroness peered around her. “Why is it so dark in your room? Are you ill?”

  Julianna shook her head. “No, no I’m not ill. I was just resting. I’m very tired today.”

  At that her stepmother gently but insistently pushed past Julianna and found a taper and lit it. She located two lamps and lit them as well. The shadows were dispelled immediately, and Lady Linville walked briskly over to the windows and shut the curtains. When she turned back to Julianna, she had a determined look on her face. “Is there something you’d like to tell me?” she asked.

  Julianna knew she must look guilty. She wasn’t even sure over what, there was so much to choose from.

  “Close the door, Julianna.” After Julianna did as she was told, the baroness sat delicately on the edge of her bed and patted the space next to her. “Come here, child.”

  Warily, Julianna walked over and sat in the indicated space. She twisted her hands together in her lap. “Yes, Lady Linville?”

  The baroness sighed and patted her hands awkwardly. “I know that we have not been close since my marriage to your father, and that is as much my fault as yours. It seems that neither of us is used to having a confidante.” She licked her lips nervously, which surprised Julianna. She’d seen Lady Linville in many moods but nervous was not one of them. “I want you to feel as if you can tell me the things that trouble you,” she said with hesitation. “I realize that you have no reason to trust me, and that we have had our differences in the past. But I want you to know”—she reached out and lightly took hold of Julianna’s forearm—“that I love your father and would not see him hurt for the world.”

  Julianna blinked rapidly, her stepmother’s honesty and earnestness affecting her greatly. “As do I,” she whispered.

  Lady Linville nodded and settled herself more firmly on the bed, releasing Julianna’s arm. “Good. Then we are of like minds.” She tipped her head to the side and regarded Julianna sternly, but there was a kindness in her eyes that Julianna had never noticed before. “Now, talk to me, Julianna.”

  She opened her mouth to reassure Lady Linville that there was nothing to talk about, but to her utter horror and dismay she could not speak through her tears and the silly hiccupping sobs that were escaping her.

  “I see,” the baroness said kindly, and then she put her arm around Julianna and let her cry on her shoulder.

  And cry and cry she did. For a woman who had prided herself on her self-control just a few short days ago she was a blubbering mess. It wasn’t just Alasdair’s obvious dislike of her and his distasteful passion for her, but all of the indignities she’d suffered in her twenty years. There was, of course, her lack of a mother, which really wasn’t anyone’s fault. Having no one to blame for it had seriously diminished Julianna’s ability to grieve properly. Then there were her father’s wandering eye and clever, thieving fingers. She had not liked her childhood one bit, thank you. Moving constantly from country house party to country house party, where her father found it easiest to seduce and pilfer. Her sketchy education, gleaned from sitting in on lessons with the often cruel and unforgiving children of whatever house they happened to be visiting. And the lies. She’d had enough of them to last a lifetime.

  And now this. She thought she might very well be falling in love with a man who despised her. And she might be carrying his child. It was becoming increasingly clear that her common sense went missing when Alasdair touched her. Oh, and then there was the matter of the pearl. She’d stolen his treasure and was helpless to retrieve it. Her greatest transgression and she could not make amends even though it was what her heart and mind demanded.

  But how did one confess these things to a distant and still-unknown stepmother? They might be making progress in their relationship but, as Lady Linville said, they were not yet confidantes. All Julianna could manage was, “I think I love him.”

  Oh, good heavens, that was not what she’d meant to say at all.

  “Well, that’s a good place to start,” the baroness assured her with a gentle squeeze. “Now, why don’t you tell me his name, my dear?” Julianna looked at her with wide, panicked eyes. “No? Well, I know it cannot be any of the young men I’ve introduced you to, or you would be quite happy to tell me.” She took a deep breath. “Is he … unacceptable?”

  Julianna shook her head vehemently, having made the decision not to talk anymore lest she reveal more of her turmoil and deceit than was wise.

  Lady Linville visibly relaxed. “Oh, that is good to know.” She rubbed Julianna’s arm companionably and Julianna sniffed several times, fighting the emotion brought on by that motherly touch. “When you are ready, Julianna,” she told her quietly, “you may tell us. But do not wait too long. We would like to help while it is still prudent to do so, and not when it is too late to do much good.” She hugged her awkwardly with one arm. “Do not despair, my dear. All is not lost, it is only misplaced.” She smiled tentatively.

  Julianna nodded miserably. If she was with child, she would have to tell them everything, and they would make him marry her. And then he would hate her for all eternity. And she would probably still love him, like the complete fool she apparently was, which was very, very disheartening. She had always thought she was above such foolish things.

  “Lord what fools these mortals be!” Shakespeare had written, although not in Romeo and Juliet. But the sentiment still applied.

  * * *

  “Hil, am I a good man?” Alasdair asked quietly, standing at Hil’s large window looking out at the street, which was bathed in the misty hues of dusk. He’d wandered around for hours after leaving Julianna and he’d ended up here.

  “What a foolish question.” Hil sounded amused. “Who is to say what is good and what is bad? I for one would say you are a good man, one of the best. But there are some who would say that I would not recognize a good man were he to punch me in the nose.”

  Alasdair could not summon even a grin. “Are not good men judged so by their actions?” he mused, feeling somehow detached from what had happened with Julianna today.

  “Unfortunately, yes,” Hil answered, coming to stand next to him. He looked out on the street with Alasdair, as if that ever-darkening thoroughfare might lead them to enlightenment.

  “Why ‘unfortunate’?” Alasdair asked, turning to look at his friend.

  Hil met his gaze briefly and then they both turned back to the window. It was dark enough now that Alasdair could watch Hil’s reflection in the window as he answered.

  “Unfortunate because a man’s actions often do not reflect what resides inside him. I believe that it is not actions that determine the man, but the motivation behind them.” Hil looked at Alasdair in the window. “What motivates you, Sharp?”

  Alasdair looked away and shook his head. “I no longer know. And you?”

  Hil laughed quietly. “Well, I am no saint, no matter what name I was given.”

  “Are you a devil then?” Alasdair asked with a reluctant smile.

  “No. I am neither. I am just a man. A little of both, forever condemned to walk the earth and suffer the indignities of both heaven and hell.”

  At that Alasdair laughed grimly. He spun away from the window and walked unsteadily over to a large chair. “Indignities,” he said as he sat down. “Yes, that is the right word, Hil. How undignified we all are.”

  Hil turned to face him, sitting on the edge of the window frame. “They do indeed have the same root meaning.”

  “Yes, let’s turn this into a grammar lesson,” Alasdair said with a snort. “How astute of you to know that was what I needed right now.”

  Hil tipped his head to the side, but his face was completely in shadows, his expression hidden. “I was not aware I was required to know what you needed at any particular time of the day. However, if you need something from me, then by all means ask. I will do what I can to accommodate you. But I will refer you back to my earlier statement. I am only a man. Do not ask what I am incapable of giving.”

  “How about forgiveness?”

  Hil said nothing for a moment. “Is my forgiveness the one you should be seeking?”

  Alasdair laughed, and even he could hear the utter despair in it. Letting his head fall to the back of the chair, he covered his face with his hands for a moment. Once he had himself under control he let them fall. Perhaps he wasn’t so detached after all. “No,” he answered shakily, “it is not.”

  Rising from his perch at the window, Hil sighed heavily. He walked over and lit a lamp on his desk, creating a circle of light and warmth before he sat down in the large, ornate leather chair behind it.

  “What have you done, Alasdair?”

  Alasdair looked over at him in surprise. Hil rarely used his given name. “Am I to be judged by my actions?”

  “I cannot answer that,” Hil said calmly. “I do not know what those actions are, or what motivated you.”

  “Anger. Anger motivated me.” Alasdair rubbed his hand along the arm of the chair, the red upholstery rough under his fingertips. “And jealousy.”

  “That rarely bodes well.” Hil leaned back in his chair, resting his elbows on the arms and steepling his fingers beneath his chin. “Tell me.”

  Suddenly Alasdair was tired. He was tired of the anger and the jealousy, the suspicions and the accusations. He was tired of not laughing with Julianna. They had laughed and teased that first night, sharing more than physical intimacy. He wanted that again. With Julianna. But he couldn’t imagine that she would forgive his actions today.

  “How can I ask her forgiveness?” he whispered.

  Hil toyed with a pen on his desk, running the feather through his fingers. “That depends. Did you step on her foot? Run over her cat? Steal her virginity?”

  Alasdair glared at him. “That was unnecessary.”

  “I did not use fuck and Miss Harte in the same sentence.” Hil leaned forward, frowning fiercely. “Dammit, Alasdair, what did you do? I merely mentioned her virginity to remind you that you have done worse, and she has more than forgiven you. Yet you act as if this new transgression is even more heinous.”

  “I stole her free will,” Alasdair said wearily. “I took her innocence and her trust and I violated her in the most unforgivable fashion.”

  Hil threw down his pen and rose from his chair. He walked around the desk and came to stand directly in front of Alasdair. His face gave nothing away. “Stand up,” he said calmly.

  Hil backed up a few steps to give Alasdair room to stand. As he did, he gave Hil a questioning look. The punch took him completely by surprise. He fell sideways, knocking his hip against the chair, and then tumbled to the ground, his jaw on fire. He lay there stunned.

  “Feel better?” Hil asked tightly. “I know I do.” He walked back over to his chair and took a seat. “Now you had better get up and tell me what the hell you did. If I have something to answer for here, I’d like to know it.”

  Alasdair laughed weakly and rubbed his jaw as he rolled to his knees. “Actually, I do feel better.” He had to lean on the chair’s arm to hoist himself from the floor. Hil packed quite a punch for a scholar. “I deserved that.” He fell into the chair. “But I don’t see why you would have anything to answer for, Hil. Whatever happened, I did, and I must face the consequences and make it right.”

  “The fact that you deserved it is not in question.” Hil tapped his fingers on his desk. “You have acted the ass for the past week as far as Miss Harte is concerned. If you have crossed the line, then I need to know about it, Sharp. I condoned your behavior and encouraged your pursuit of her because I thought you were an honorable man with honorable intentions, who would acknowledge his mistakes and ultimately do the intelligent thing. To realize that I was mistaken is a great disappointment, and a source of great concern. Do we need to go visit her father this evening? Should I be anticipating his outraged knock on my door, or worse, a visit from the constables, all tracking you down like a common criminal?”

 

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