Seduced by His Touch(35)

"Only part of the time, then? Was that before or after you met my  father? And by that I mean when you first met my father, not that day at  the house when we came to ask his blessing on our marriage and you both  pretended not to know one another."

This time, he was the one to flinch. "Fine. I won't deny it. Your father  and I crossed paths one evening over the gaming table, many days before  I met you. As for my subsequent pursuit of you, what else would have  served?"

"The truth, perhaps?"

"Oh? So if I'd come to you from the start, lain myself bare, and asked you to marry me, you would have said yes?"

She gave him a long, impenetrable stare before lowering her gaze. "No. Of course not."

"Exactly. Which is why seduction was the only way to win you."

Closing her eyes, she turned her face away. A small silence fell. "So, did you propose the … arrangement, or did he?" she asked.

Jack clenched his fists at his side and tried to think of some way to  explain the bargain he'd made with her father in a manner that wouldn't  just make things worse.

"But of course it was him," she continued, as she opened her eyes again  on a sigh. "You might be an unprincipled libertine, but you're not a  fortune hunter. At least not the common variety, or you'd have been  married to some other woman years ago. I've seen you play cards, though,  my lord. How is it a man of your exceptional talents lost to an amateur  like Papa?"

"Bad luck, that's all." As soon as the words were out, he wished he could take them back.

She cringed and wrapped her arms around herself.

"Grace, I didn't mean-"

"No, it's quite all right. I'm sure it must have killed you to agree to  this. It must be killing you still. But Papa's always wanted me to marry  well. What better way than to buy me a bona fide lord?"

His jaw tightened as he found himself unable to dispute her claim.

"But I forget," she continued. "You're getting a fortune out of it,  aren't you? My dowry, plus another sixty thousand pounds when we wed.  And your gaming debt expunged. Just how much do you owe him, anyway?"

For a fleeting moment, he considered refusing to tell her. But the  damage was done. What did it matter now? "A hundred thousand pounds."

She sucked in an astonished breath. "Good God! No wonder you agreed. I'm  sure that much money makes even a redheaded giantess like me look  attractive."

"You aren't unattractive. Quite the contrary. I never lied to you about  that. And I like your height. There's nothing wrong with being tall."

She looked away again, so he couldn't tell if she believed him or not.                       
       
           


///
       

"Grace, I know you're upset and angry, and you have every right to be. But let's talk about this."

"I think we've talked enough already."

He walked around the desk. "But we haven't. We can work this out. It's  true, I admit, that I agreed to marry you in order to pay the debt I owe  your father. It was unforgivably wrong, and for that I'm sorry. But  since I've known you, things have changed."

"What things?"

His voice deepened. "Everything. You weren't at all what I expected. I liked you, for one."

"Liked me?" she repeated on a skeptical note. "You liked me so much you  were willing to lie, to manipulate and use me for your own gain?"

His gut tightened, her accusation hitting him like a roundhouse punch.  "As I said before, I only lied when it was necessary, in order to keep  you from knowing about the bargain with your father. Nothing else  between us has been false."

"Nothing else, hmm? So, you honestly enjoy attending lectures about flowers and plants, do you?"

Her question caught him off-stride. "What?"

"Flowers. Remember how you happened upon me that day at the botany  lecture in Bath? Did you attend the seminar simply because you wanted to  learn more about plants, or were you there to ingratiate yourself to me  as part of your plan? Tell me our meeting that day was nothing more  than a pure coincidence."

He ran a hand through his hair.

"That's what I thought," she said, jumping to her feet. "Do you even know the names of any flowers?"

"Of course I do."

"Then tell me. Name some. Name one."

He opened his mouth to reply.

"And not the common name," she insisted. "I want the genus and species."  Trembling, she reached a hand into her robe and drew out the pendant  around her neck. "What about this one? What about these h-hollyhocks?"

He frowned and said nothing. Because he didn't know. Damn, why don't I know?

A single tear slid over her cheek as she yanked hard at the chain. The  thin gold links bit into her neck and held. But she gave a second  vicious tug and it broke free. "Here, take it! I don't want it! I don't  want to see it ever again!"

When his hands remained at his sides, she flung the pendant onto the desk.

Whirling away, she hurried forward. Her foot twisted beneath her,  though, and she stumbled. Instinctively he reached out and caught her.  She pulled back as though his hands were made of fire.

"Don't!" she hissed, wrenching herself out of his hold. "Don't you ever touch me again."

"Grace, please-"

But she was gone, running to the door and out into the corridor. He  could have followed, but he knew it was no use. She was beyond  consoling. And what could he offer her, when he was the cause of her  grief?





Hours later, Grace lay awake on her bed, staring into the darkness.  Mellow orange embers were all that remained of the fire in the grate,  while the pair of candles her maid had lighted earlier had sputtered out  in squat pools of melted wax.

She hadn't slept, nor would she that night. How could she rest when her  entire world had just come crashing down around her? When everything  she'd believed had been violently torn apart?

Sweet Lord, how had everything gone so horribly wrong?

Until a few hours ago, she'd been so happy, so full of joy and anticipation, as she counted the last few days until her wedding.

Wedding, ha! Bondage more like, as she was bartered in trade by the two  men she had trusted most. But there was no trust now-her faith, her  love, was breached beyond redemption.

As for her father, she wasn't really surprised by his scheming. He'd  never taken pains to conceal his dearest wish that she marry into the  ranks of the Ton and, by doing so, further the dynasty he'd worked so  long and hard to build. Despite his recent silence on the subject, she  ought to have known he would never have given up on his quest. Once her  father wanted a thing, he always found a way to make it happen.

Of course, he wanted her "happy" as well, and what better way to see to  her comfort and contentment than to find her a man she would like?  Someone designed to please her in all ways, whom she could love if she  let herself. When he'd chosen Jack Byron, he'd chosen well, finding her a  strong man-but more, a gentleman-one he'd instinctively known she would  not be able to resist.

And then there was Jack.

A harsh shudder went through her, her eyes squeezing tight against the  pain that threatened to slice her in two. Curling on her side, she  waited for the worst to pass. Waited until she thought she could keep  from crying aloud and shaming herself should someone happen to hear. But  thankfully, the household was asleep, so her agony was hers to bear  alone.                       
       
           


///
       

How amused he must have been all these weeks, watching her fall so  easily beneath his spell, she thought. The towering,  twenty-five-year-old spinster, who'd toppled into his waiting hands like  a ripe piece of fruit. But then any woman would topple into his hands;  he had only to beckon the one he desired most.

In her case, however, his interest was feigned, calculating. He didn't  really want her, she was simply the means to an end. Deep in her heart,  she'd always known it wasn't right, that it made no logical sense for a  man as handsome and sophisticated as Jack Byron to desire a plain,  ordinary mouse like her. And now she had proof that she was right.

The knowledge gave her no satisfaction, however; the truth lay cold and  hollow in her heart. Part of her wished she could take back the past few  hours, erase everything that had happened tonight so she could live  happily again inside her delusions. But doing so would merely have put  off the inevitable. Eventually-months or even years from now-she would  have come to realize her folly, awakening one bleak day to the reality  of her empty, one-sided love.

He liked her, did he? She noticed there'd been no mention of any deeper  emotion. Because in that, he hadn't been able to lie. When she thought  back, she realized he'd never spoken of love-only need and desire. How  had he phrased it the morning he'd proposed?