Regency Christmas Wishes(69)

But she took no notice, and in another minute had reached the jetty, where she stopped in confusion as she found no boat. Charles ran on to the jetty just as she tried to leave, and she lost her balance. With a frightened scream she teetered above the swift gray Thames, and would have fallen in had not Charles’s hand shot out to seize her wrist. He pulled her back from the brink, and crushed her into his arms.

“This is foolishness, my darling,” he breathed, pressing her close. “All I desire is that you talk to me. Just talk to me. Nothing more.”

She struggled and pulled away. Her cheeks were pink, her green eyes bright, and her hair now as much of a tangle as his. “What have you done with the boats?” she demanded.

“Me?”

“Yes. You must have done something, for how did you get to the island if not by boat?”

“Your aunt dispatched James the footman to row me over, and unknown to me she instructed him to maroon us both here.”

Juliet stared in disbelief. “That cannot be so. Aunt M would never allow you to come here.”

“On the contrary, she not only permitted me to come here, she made damned sure I stayed. And before you call me liar again, let me assure you that I didn’t even know you were on the island. I thought I was coming here to await your response to my request to see you.”

“Why would my aunt thrust us together? She knows how I feel about you.”

He searched her lovely eyes, so angry and accusing. “Perhaps I persuaded her that I deserved—”

“You don’t deserve anything,” she pointed out quickly.

“Everyone deserves a second chance, Juliet, even a faithless husband. Lady M thinks so too, and is being the fairy godmother who grants my wish.”

“Wish?”

“Yes. I have yearned for a reconciliation ever since you so rightly spurned me. The chance to speak to you again has been my single prayer throughout the past six years. I cannot go on without striving to win your heart again, and that is why I am here. I laid bare my heart to Lady M, and my presence here on the island is the result.”

Emotion got the better of him, and he put his fingertips lovingly to her cheek, but she brushed his hand aside. “I don’t want your caresses, Charles.”

“Maybe not, but it’s Christmas Day, Juliet, and I love you deeply. Have you no mercy? We once meant everything to each other, and to me you still do, so if we let this opportunity pass by we will both be eeyots.”

Tears sprang to her eyes. “Don’t use that word.”

“I must use every weapon at my disposal if I am to win your hand again.”

“If I agree to talk, I don’t want you to think that it necessarily follows that we will be reunited. What you did was despicable, and I do not know that I will ever be able to trust you again. Without trust there can be no future happiness. You do understand that?”

He nodded. “Of course.”

“I will never, never be the sort of wife to accept a husband’s unfaithfulness.”

“I know.” Oh, how he knew . . .

She held her head haughtily. “Do you accept my terms for talking?”

“Yes.”

She relaxed a little. “Very well. Shall we walk awhile?”

Walk? His stomach was rumbling like an earthquake, but he dared not let any opportunity to be with her pass by, so he nodded. “Yes, of course.” He offered her his arm, but she shook her head.

“There must not be any misunderstanding, and if I take your arm I fear there will be. Let us simply walk around the island.”

With that he had to be content.

The little scene by the jetty had been observed from Marchwell Park, where Juliet’s aunt was again at the window with the spyglass. Magpie Eyot had been under such close scrutiny since dawn that she had left her Christmas guests to their own devices; indeed, she’d hardly given them a thought. Her prime consideration was the pair at the Retreat, and whether or not their broken marriage could be satisfactorily repaired.

As she peered through the glass, she saw a familiar black-and-white shape winging toward her. So that was why she hadn’t seen him yet this morning, he’d been out all night. She quickly opened the window for the magpie to come inside, which he did, scattering powdery snow into the room as he landed on the ledge.

Lady Marchwell was all concern. “My poor, darling boy, you must be frozen!” she cried, and hastened to send her maid for a glass of sherry. Jack had long since learned that wonderful word, and knew exactly when to play upon his mistress’s emotions. He shivered and looked forlorn, so that she hurried to place a velvet cushion in front of the bedroom hearth. “Here you are,” she said, denting it to make a nest. In a trice the magpie was warmly ensconced. No fool he! All this and sherry on its way too? Oh, how he loved this time of year.