Chapter 4 #7
A stab of irritation pricked his already dark mood.
Just who the hell did that idiot think he was, barreling in here and acting as if he had some exclusive right to her?
The idea that Genevieve had actually been betrothed to that sniveling, spineless fool filled him with fury.
Whatever her father’s attributes may have been, it was clear he had not been a discerning judge of character.
It had taken nearly every ounce of Haydon’s self-control to refrain from booting the pompous imbecile out the door on his expensively wrapped backside.
“I would have thought you might be a little more grateful for the risks I have taken on your behalf,” Genevieve continued, incensed that he dared to criticize her.
“Did you think that after tending you night after night and making sure you didn’t bleed to death or die from fever I would merely stand back and watch as they led you away?
If so, then you do not know the first thing about me, Lord Redmond. ”
Anger had stiffened her stance and heated her cheeks.
She looked as if she wanted to strike him.
The fact that she faced him so readily, unwilling to back down, touched a deep chord of admiration within him.
The irrepressible Miss MacPhail was a woman of astonishing strength and conviction, who would not retreat when she believed she was right.
And more, despite the terrible crimes of which he had been accused and convicted, she was quite clearly not afraid of him in the least.
He felt an urge to touch her in that moment, to pull her into his arms and press his mouth to hers, to feel her soft, slender form against him, his hands roaming the firm swells of her breasts as she opened her mouth and invited his tongue inside.
His body stirred and hardened, filling him with a desire that had long lain dormant, flooding his senses with restless, impossible need.
Appalled, he turned away abruptly. Here he was, in a crowded household filled with children, a hairsbreadth away from being hauled off and executed for murder, and all he wanted to do was bury himself in the woman who was responsible for saving his life.
Clearly, he was losing his mind.
“I did not mean to offend you, Genevieve,” he said, raking his hand through his hair.
“It’s just that I wonder if you have considered the ramifications of the picture you have painted here.
You have told the authorities that you and I are married.
If I leave now, everyone in Inveraray will know that you have lied.
Do you understand what that will mean for you?
The relentless Constable Drummond will be breaking down your door, demanding your arrest for hiding an escaped prisoner.
Given that justice here finds it appropriate to jail an expectant mother for stealing an apple, I can well imagine what punishment they will decide to inflict upon you.
In addition to sending you to prison, they will deem you to be an unfit parent and take your children away. ”
Genevieve paled, her anger suddenly chilled by this very real possibility. What had she been thinking? she wondered. That Haydon would simply stay with her forever, and no one would ever learn of their lie?
She sank into a chair, trying to stifle her panic.
Haydon braced one hand against the mantel and stared grimly into the flames of the fire.
He wanted to leave this place and try to clear his name by solving the mystery of who those men were who had attacked him the night this whole ugly mess began.
That would mean having his barrister hire someone to investigate the matter for him, and remaining in hiding far from Scotland until the puzzle was solved.
He was certain the authorities had frozen his bank accounts, but between his lawyers and his accountants, he was sure they could find some way to access some funds for him under the guise of legal fees.
Once his attackers were brought to light and the charges against him were dropped, he could return to his prior life as Lord Redmond.
It could take years, he realized bitterly, assuming the investigation was successful at all. And in the meantime, the beautiful, intelligent, selfless woman before him would be arrested and imprisoned for her role in helping him to escape.
It was unthinkable.
“It seems I am trapped here.”
Genevieve looked at him in surprise. “Do you mean you’re going to stay?”
“For the time being, yes. I will stay and play the role of your husband. But I will only do it long enough to firmly establish our relationship to the people of Inveraray. Then, perhaps in a month or two, once the search for me has tired somewhat and everyone has come to believe that we are the blissfully happy couple we shall portray ourselves to be, I will be called away to England on business. And there, after a separation of a few weeks, I will unfortunately meet my demise in an accident. You will have a suitable period of mourning, and then you will pick up and go on, now with the added respectability of being a tragic young widow.”
Genevieve considered his plan a moment. “And what will happen to you?”
It did not surprise him that she remained worried for his welfare. Concern for others was woven deep into the fabric of her very being. It was part of what made her so desirable to him, as firelight played upon her pale cheek and sweetly furrowed brow.
“I will either eventually succeed in proving my innocence and reclaiming my life, or spend the rest of my days trying to keep one step ahead of the law. Either way, I am determined that neither you nor the children should suffer for trying to help me. And therefore you must promise me something, Genevieve.” His expression was deadly serious.
“I would have your word that if I am discovered while I am staying with you, you will say whatever you must to establish your own innocence in the matter. You will tell them I forced you to take me in. You will say that I threatened you cruelly and relentlessly, that I even beat you, and that your fear for your own life and the lives of the children was so great that you felt your only option was to succumb to my demands and say I was your husband.”
Genevieve adamantly shook her head. “If I do that, no one will believe in your innocence.”
“If I am discovered here, my innocence won’t matter,” Haydon told her flatly.
“I cannot risk investigating the matter myself while I am supposed to be the newly wedded Maxwell Blake. And if Constable Drummond and Governor Thomson realize that your adoring husband is actually their escaped prisoner, their fury at being duped will overshadow any willingness to reconsider my innocence. All they will be interested in is my immediate execution, so that the embarrassment of my escape and my subsequent masquerade can be buried with me.”
“I won’t pretend that you are some sort of monster when you’re not,” Genevieve argued. “If you’re caught, then I will go to the courthouse and explain to them what happened. I will ask the judge to reexamine your case and—”
“Listen to me, Genevieve,” he said, kneeling before her.
“I know you are a fighter, and that is why you are unwilling to accept injustice. But I could not bear the thought that you and the children were made to suffer because of me. Do you understand? My death does not concern me nearly so much as the idea that I will have destroyed your life as well.”
His expression was harsh as he spoke to her, almost as if he was trying to intimidate her into agreement.
But it was his eyes that captured Genevieve’s attention.
There was anger there, laced with the frustration of a powerful man who was not accustomed to having to demand something more than once.
But there was a terrible pain there as well, an overwhelming sadness that swirled through the icy blue depths, suggesting a wound that was still raw deep within him.
It was this that she focused on, for it seemed so haunting and familiar, almost as if she were looking into a reflection of herself.
“Very well,” she said quietly, knowing full well that she would never honor his request. “I will do as you wish.”
Haydon eyed her speculatively. She returned his gaze steadily.
“Good.” He rose to his feet and crossed the room, suddenly anxious to have some distance from her. He felt as if he had inadvertently revealed some part of himself to her. It was not his habit to disclose anything about himself to anyone.
“Shall we go into the dining room and join the children for dinner?” Genevieve asked.
“If you’ll forgive me, I think I will retire upstairs and lie down for a while. I find myself somewhat tired.” Instead of moving toward the door, he gripped the mantel and stared at the fire.
“Would you like me to bring you something?”
“No.” Realizing his tone was gruff, he added, “Thank you.”
“Perhaps later, then.”
“Perhaps.”
He had drifted away from her, she realized, surprised by how much she felt the loss.
For one brief moment she had looked into his soul, had almost felt as if she could reach out and touch him and know that he would not mind, that he might have even welcomed the feel of her slender arms about his enormous shoulders, offering him comfort and refuge.
Her experience with men was limited to her utterly proper courtship with Charles, which had included a few disappointingly passionless kisses, and one rather fumbling grope of her breasts.
Although her blond betrothed had seemed handsome enough to her when she was an inexperienced girl of eighteen, neither his perpetually disapproving face nor his increasingly pulpy physique could begin to compare with the darkly chiseled lines of Lord Redmond’s visage, or the powerfully cut ripples and planes of his warrior physique.
She had seen him standing before her with nothing but a blaze of sunlight warming his skin, had swabbed almost every inch of his beautiful body with her gentle touch, and she knew that Lord Redmond was strong and hard and sleek, like a wild panther.
She found herself wondering what it would be like to have his arms wrapped tightly around her, to feel herself pressed against his chest as he lowered his head and pressed his mouth to hers.
Heat flooded through her.
She rose and hurried toward the door, bewildered by the strange sensations coursing through her veins. Her relationship with Lord Redmond was one of unfortunate but necessary circumstance, and nothing more, she reminded herself.
Even so, the urge to stay with him was strong as she stole a final glance at him standing by the hearth, his powerful form silhouetted against the dying shadows of the fire.