Lord Deverill's Heir, Catherine Coulter [the best motivational books .TXT] 📗

“He did and thought nothing of it. You are your father’s daughter. Your mother is gentle, quiet, trusting. Ah, she knew exactly what he did, but she kept quiet. She never tried to turn you against your father.” She tried to clap her hands over her ears.

“No cowardice from you now.” He pulled her hands to her sides.

“No, I won’t listen to you. You’re making this up to protect her.” Yet she felt the coldness of doubt sweep through her.

He gentled. “No, Arabella, I have no need to invent stories. In fact, several times when I met with your father in London and in Lisbon, even once in Brussels, I was entertained most charmingly by his mistresses. I remember him joking about his little milksop of a wife, about her coldness, her bourgeois fear of him. He said to me once, admittedly when he was in his cups, ‘You know, my boy, I have at least forced the little fool to see to my pleasure. She does not do it well, she gags and cries, but I am a tolerant man. One should be, of course, to one’s wife.’ ”

“No! He could not—Please, Justin, he did not say those things.”

“Yes, Bella, he did. He was a man of demanding, extreme passions. That Lady Ann suffered from his nature is to be regretted. But do you not see, his very nature also made him a great leader. His men trusted him implicitly, for he never showed fear or uncertainty. He launched offensives that would have left lesser men quaking in their boots.” The earl softened his voice even more. “His character also gave you a father to admire, respect, and adore. He loved you above all things, Arabella. I do not wish you to condemn him or blindly exalt him, for he deserves neither. I remember he told me once, not above a year ago: ‘Be damned, Justin, it is just as well that my Arabella had no brothers. After her, they would perforce have been disappointments to me.’ ” She said not a single word, but he knew she was listening to everything now.

“I would that you now consider your mother. She was always completely loyal to your father. More than that, she loves you dearly. She always has, she always will. She deserves your understanding, Bella, your approval, else you have dimmed her chance for happiness. And she does deserve to have her own happiness now. She gave eighteen years to you and to a man who held her in contempt. Please, Arabella, try to look at all this straight on, without fear, without anger, without pain. Will you do that?”

Arabella rose slowly to her feet and shook loose blades of grass from her skirt. He stood beside her. His eyes searched her face for a clue to what she was thinking. He sensed a change in her, yet he could not be certain.

He wondered if perhaps she was thinking of her own sham of a marriage, a marriage of convenience that she dreaded enough to seek comfort in the arms of another man. He remained silent, waiting for her to speak.

“It grows late,” she said finally, her voice far away. “If you do not mind, I would ride pillion. Would you send James to fetch Lucifer?” He looked down at her, wondering, always wondering, what was in her mind.

Then he couldn’t help himself. He cupped her face between his hands, leaned down, and kissed her. It had been far too long, since before they’d married. Her mouth was soft, just as he remembered. God, he wanted her. But he had to know, he had to. He raised his face, his thumbs lightly tracing over her lips. “Arabella, tell me the truth, just admit to me that you took the comte as your lover. I don’t believe he is still your lover, but I know that he was before we were married. Just tell me the truth, tell me why you did it, and I will forgive you. Was it because you felt forced to wed me? Tell me the truth. Then we can go back and begin again. Tell me, Arabella.” He leaned down and began kissing her again.

The sharp pain brought him to his senses faster than a bucket of ice water. He jumped back, rubbing his shin. She’d kicked him hard. She was backing away from him, breathing hard. Then she yelled at him, “Damn you, that miserable man was never my lover. You’re the blind one.” It nearly burst from her mouth that it was Elsbeth who was his lover, but she held it back in time. No, she couldn’t take the chance of telling him. The pain he could cause Elsbeth was incalculable. “Hear me, damn you! I did not betray you!”

She turned on her heel and ran to Lucifer. She clumsily climbed onto his broad back.

“Arabella, wait. Wait. Why are you still lying to me? Why? There’s no reason. I want to forgive you. I’m ready to forgive you.”

“You idiot, you wretched blind fool!” It was then that she realized that Lucifer was lame. She just sat there for a long moment, staring into nothing, then she slipped off his back. She walked directly back to Justin, drew back her arm, and sent her fist into his jaw. She caught him off balance. He flailed the air, but lost, and fell backward into a shallow ditch.

She took his own horse and was off. He was left with Lucifer. Just as well, he thought, as he dusted himself off. Both of them were lame, he in his head and the damned horse in his hoof.

Damn, but that was a good shot she’d given him. He rubbed his jaw. A very good hit.

Why wouldn’t she just tell him the truth?

The earl stood at the breakfast parlor window, sipping his second cup of coffee, staring out toward the colorful parterre. Arabella came into view, walking beside her mother. He felt something move deep inside him