Chapter 24

W hen they arrived at Aaron's house, he advised his butler," We are not to be disturbed!" Gripping Rebekah's arm, he directed her straight to the drawing room, her steps echoing quickly to keep up with him. He closed the double doors, then spun around to face her. His temper had cooled somewhat, but his bloody irritation hit a new level when she took off her pelisse.

His eyes narrowed and lust filled his veins.

He railed at his jealousy. A completely new emotion he'd never felt before.

"What is the matter with you?" He'd been too angry to notice at the ball. His cronies were salivating at the mouth. No doubt, the bastards had been planning on how to get a moment alone with her.

"What have I done that has offended you?"

He smacked a fist into the palm of his other hand. Bloody hell. She was ravishing. He would have to lock her up. Throw away the key.

"Just what did you think you were doing? Were you trying to get the attention of every man there?" He paced to the hearth and back again. Damn if he would allow the dandies and rogues to lust after her with their tongues hanging out. She belonged to him. And he would not be cuckolded. He would be the only one who would see her beauty. To see her eyes glaze over in the throes of her passion.

"Belgrave. Is that what you want? A bloody popinjay? He's a rake. I will not have my wife flirting behind my back."

"Behind … We were at a ball in plain sight."

"Then you admit it. In sight of everyone. The entire ton saw my wife being—" He caught himself before he insulted her.

"Being what, exactly?"

"He would ravish you in the garden in an instant. Were you planning on taking him as your lover?"

Hell will freeze over before I allow another man near my wife.

"Aaron!"

He whirled around. "What?"

"I have no idea why you are shouting at me. Will you please stop?"

The more he thought about her, the angrier he got. The fools at the ball looked at her. Saw his wife. In that damned dress that covered nothing. Her breasts were ready to pop out.

"Why are you wearing that gown?"

Her eyes widened with confusion. "It is a ball gown. Madame Laselle—"

"It looks striking on you. Christ, Rebekah." He took the maddening steps that brought him directly in front of her. "You look like a harlot. Must you act like one too?"

Crack!

Aaron froze. And stared in awe. Had his wife truly just slapped him?

Good God, he deserved it.

He stepped back and dropped his gaze to the carpet. Holy mother of Christ, he'd gone barmy.

"Your aunt approved this gown. I don't think she would want me to look like a harlot."

Aaron drew himself up, deserving the tongue-lashing he expected.

Rebekah released a sigh. "Perhaps it is time we talk of dissolving this marriage."

That was the last thing he expected her to say. "Is that what you want?"

"Since I've been in London, my wants have not mattered."

He wanted to tell her she was wrong.

"I've tried to fit in. I would not wear a gown that would shame you. I have tried my best. I've learned how to be a proper lady. Serena and Joyanna—" Her voice caught, making him feel even more like a cad.

What the devil had gotten into him? The green-eyed monster had Aaron entirely in its thrall. True, he'd never experienced the emotion, so he hardly recognized it for what it was. He should not be taking his temper out on Rebekah.

"Do you have any idea how lonely, how scary it is to be in a strange place, knowing no one, and depending on them for your very existence?"

His head jerked to her.

"Of course not." She dropped her gaze to the floor. "You never thought about how I might have felt. You only thought about you. What was happening to you." When her eyes lifted back to his, what he saw in them brought him low.

Aaron stared at the woman who was his wife.

Devil take it.

Rebekah spoke the truth. He had not once considered her feelings toward his actions. He'd convinced himself that he had done the proper thing. Done what they both wanted.

Who was he kidding? Neither one of them wanted the marriage, but they both had to deal with the fall out.

Only he had handled things as he saw fit. What an arse. He'd set out to fix a conundrum, and once done, he presumed that was the end of it. He'd given her everything she wanted. So he thought.

He hadn't considered that a woman alone might be scared. He had not taken into account that every person in the house with her was a stranger. He'd left Rebekah with no way to leave if she wished.

What a bastard.

Damn étiquette.

Damn the ton.

It wasn't supposed to be like this. Marriage should have made her happy. So what, if it had been a marriage of convenience. She had said yes.

Damn his soul to hell.

"You are wrong, Rebekah. Your wants do matter. I owe you an apology."

"An apology?"

"Well, yes, and a lot more."

Her wide eyes told him of her surprise. He did not normally apologize to women. To anyone, for that matter. But he'd never behaved in such an ungentlemanly fashion.

"I beg your forgiveness; at the same time, I ask you to hear me out."

"I've heard enough already. Unless you change your attitude toward me, I don't want to hear any more from you."

"I am trying to explain. And I did offer an apology."

She stared at him as if she was searching his soul. "Why the sudden about-face?"

"I see your side of it. I came to my townhouse, familiar surroundings. I carried on almost as normal. You were in a strange house with strangers. I know my family. However, you did not. I knew they were safe. You did not know you were safe." He yanked a hand through his hair. "I did not realize it was frightening, nay terrifying for you. I'm not normally a thoughtless or uncharitable man."

She had the softest looking lips. A million thoughts drifted through his mind, yet all he could think of was kissing his wife. He took a step toward her. She didn't run or draw back. He held her gaze as he took another.

"I ask for your forgiveness. And I promise to be more considerate."

"You asked me once before to allow you time. You said I would find you not the ogre I thought you to be."

"Then I went right ahead and proved myself a liar. I'm not a liar, Rebekah."

Did he dare confess his jealousy? He could not give her that much power. He took another step, hoping to close the gap between them as he closed the distance.

"I do not at all like the way you behaved this evening."

"Again, I apologize. I have no excuse. You are a beautiful woman, Rebekah. I resented other men looking at you."

She gasped, her hand slapping to her chest, drawing his attention to her full breasts. Good God, she was luscious. He took another step, close enough to reach out and touch her.

He had no right.

He had every right.

She screwed up her face as if she didn't believe what he'd just revealed. What man in his right mind would want to admit jealousy over his wife?

Damn, she was desirable when she was mad. He raked his eyes over her exquisite form. Her breasts rose with every deep breath. He wondered if she was a passionate creature. Since she was his wife, he was bound to find out. One day.

Why not today?

He took the final step that brought him so close, without actually touching.

The steam seemed to float out of her. Her shoulders drooped a bit, she looked tired. In one swoop, he could snatch her off her feet and carry her to a bed chamber. But if he did that, he knew he would not want to leave.

She stood close enough for him to feel her breath on his face. He inhaled her sweet fragrance. Not sickly sweet, like a room full of flowers. No, it was more like sunshine, and … something familiar crossed his mind, and then it was gone. Had he recognized the scent? Knew it from someplace before?

As he stared into her eyes, he saw the darker crown around the iris. Magnificent and vibrant. Her hair, such a lovely shade of blonde, lighter than his own, he wondered how he hadn't noticed it before. Rebekah was quite lovely. Remarkable, really.

He tilted his head slightly to the side. "I also asked you, once before, what you wanted. Your answer was to be free. If I ask you again—now—will your answer be different?"

"Let me ask you that question. And be truthful."

"I am always truthful." His voice had lowered almost to a growl.

"Hmmm. What do you want?"

"I do not want to end our marriage."

"Why, for heaven's sake?/ You don't want me."

"Wrong." He slid closer. "I want you with every fiber of my being."

Her breathing kicked up, which meant her pulse was beating faster. She might deny her attraction, but he sensed it. He saw it in the way she held her body. In the way she tried not to move her eyes.

Rebekah was his wife.

His!

He should be allowed to touch her.

Yes, he was her husband. He had the right. Judging from her heavy breathing, she would welcome it. After all, she'd come to London looking for him.

Her mouth opened and his groin tightened.

"I won't let you go. I've gotten used to having a wife. Having you for my wife."

Perhaps … perhaps what?

He leaned to her. Just a bit.

Her eyes flashed fire. The color on her cheeks brightened, and her breath grew harsh. He lifted a loose curl and smoothed it behind her ear. She leaned into his hand, a sigh escaping from her mouth.

Hell's Teeth, she was stunning. His gut tightened.

"I want you to stay. We can have a real marriage?"

She closed her eyes as she shook her head. "Why are you saying these things?"

He lifted his arms and gently placed his hands on her shoulders. "Seeing you laugh, seeing you with Belgrave drove me mad with longing. I want you to look at me that way. I want to see happiness on your face when you look at me." His voice lowered. "I want to see desire in your eyes."

Her face was tilted up to his, exposing her throat. The desire to run his tongue over her creamy flesh, dip down to the swells of her breasts, was too tempting. All he had to do was lean down. Instead, he lifted a finger and gently traced the outline of her bodice. She shivered.

A thrill shot through him that she was not unaffected. An even bigger thrill hit him when he realized she allowed his finger to remain where it was.

He whispered, "I want … you to want me."

She closed her eyes, her head tilting to the side. Her moan triggered a reaction in his groin. He savored the moment. He slid his hands around her waist.

"I have neglected my wife." He pressed a kiss below her ear. She sucked in a breath. "Would you allow me …" he placed another kiss to the side of her mouth. Her eyes opened. "To remedy my negligence?"

Her mouth opened, but no words came out. He could feel her heart racing. His hands added pressure, bringing her flush against his chest—and against his arousal.

Her hands grasped his shoulders, then his nape. When her tongue slipped out to wet her lips, he was lost.

He seized her mouth in a deep kiss. Desire exploded the moment his lips touched hers. So soft. So sweet. And to his absolute amazement, Rebekah was kissing him back.

Thank God.

Rebekah's hands were in his hair, tugging, pulling him to her. He locked his arms around her and let her steal his breath. She tasted magnificent. She tasted divine. He kissed her with all the longing he'd denied himself since their wedding. She met him lick for lick, allowing her passion free rein, pouring everything of herself into the kiss. As if she had been starving for him.

Good God, it was glorious.

He couldn't get enough. Their tongues danced around each other, their mouths merged together, and still he tried to get closer. The need to devour her surged within him.

Something teased at the edge of the realm of possibilities.

Something familiar.

More.

More. He wanted everything she had to give. And she gave so sweetly. So passionately. He was swimming in deep, and he kept going. Somehow knowing she would not turn him away. He kissed her as though he would never get enough of her, as though he would never let her go.

He was drowning … his passion so great he shuddered with the power of it. A familiar heavenly gale rushed over him, as though he'd done this before. A welcoming sensation, as though he knew her scent, her taste. He'd craved it. With her. With Rebekah.

A pair of stunning eyes, flashing with desire, blinked into his mind. At the same time, his hand was moving up to fondle her breast, as though he knew the way.

Rebekah moaned, and it was music to his ears. He loved the breathtaking sound of her desire. Together, they were spiraling to a magical moment. He wanted to give her that magic. Give her what she longed for and what he desperately desired. Visions of another kiss pierced his brain. Moans of ecstasy …

This time, he could not ignore the familiarity.

Aaron tore his lips from hers and shoved her away. His fingers were like steel bands clamped on her upper arms. He stared. Then blinked, shaking another image from his mind. But as he stood, staring into her eyes, he saw the same ones looking back at him with passion. The same ones as in his dreams.

Rebekah?

Her eyes filled with horror, but they were the same eyes. His gaze dropped to her swollen lips. He remembered them on his body. How …

"Aaron …"

That voice. Her voice. How had he not recognized it before?

He raked his eyes over her features again, and again. He closed his eyes as the truth struck him like a blow. Pain, raw and fierce, gouged his chest.

"It's you," he whispered.

Rebekah melted under Aaron's insistence, opening her mouth, opening her heart to him. Her mind floating back to that perfect night, where she could no longer think. Only feel as she fell deeper and deeper into Aaron's kiss. She forgot where she was. Who she was. Her dream of Aaron holding her in his arms, kissing the living daylights out of her, was real. And it was as wonderful—no, even more magnificent than she remembered.

Until her worst nightmare flashed its killing blow.

Aaron remembered.

Shock kept her frozen in place. She stared, unbelieving, not knowing what to say. What to do.

When his eyes snapped open, she gasped, then realized she'd been holding her breath.

His hands were like iron grips, forcing her to look at him. Dear God, what could she do? Her body began to shake. She bit her lip, to keep from screaming, and waited for Aaron's wrath.

"Do you have nothing to say for yourself?" he shouted.

She opened her mouth, but could not get any words out. What was she supposed to say? I'm sorry? She was not sorry. She would never be sorry for the night he made love to her. A night full of loving and passion. The most wonderful feeling in the world. Aaron had given that to her.

"Speak, Rebekah. Tell me it was real. Tell me it wasn't a dream. It was you!" He shoved her as he released her arms. She stumbled back.

"I … I don't—"

"Do not lie. I know it was you." His voice dropped to almost pleading. "It had to be you."

"I don't know what you want me to say." She hung her head.

He spun to face her. "The truth!"

"I have not lied to you."

He froze. His entire body language changed. "You can't be serious. My God, I can't think. My brain is scrambling in every direction." He started pacing the carpet. "You did not tell me the truth. Omission is a lie. You know what happened. I thought you were a dream. Yet, it seemed so real."

He talked as he paced. She wasn't sure if he was talking to her or himself.

"You were there. It was real." He stopped and whirled to her. " You are real."

The only thing she could think to do was stand there until he finished. Afraid to move, afraid to speak, she stared at the floor.

"Damn you!" He paced. "Damn you!" When he came stomping toward her, she gathered her skirts and fled.

She had no idea where she was going, she just ran. But she'd made a wrong turn and now she appeared to be going deeper into the house. She saw the stairway at the same time she heard his boots pounding on the floor behind her. She felt like a fox being chased in a hunt. Her heart pounded so hard, she prayed it would not jump out of her chest.

"Rebekah! Don't you dare run from me."

She made a bee line for the stairs. Her slippered feet climbed as fast as she could go.

"Rebekah!"

Dear Lord, he was much too close. She turned at the landing and raced up the next set of stairs. Turning down the corridor, she panicked. Which door?

She heard his boots on the stairway. She ran by several doors before she quickly darted into one. Having no idea where she was, she looked down and saw a key in the lock. She flipped it. The lock slid into place with a click .

She turned her back to the door and prayed he would not find her. That was silly, he knew she was in the house.

"Rebekah! Damn you. Do not hide from me. You owe me answers." A door banged against a wall causing her to shriek. She slapped a hand over her mouth.

"Aha. I know where you are."

The vein at her temple throbbed with her heartbeat. She feared it would burst. When the door handle rattled, she nearly screamed.

"Open this door."

She ran to the bed and grabbed a post, holding on for dear life. "No. Go away."

"This is my house, Rebekah. There will be no locked doors between us."

"I'm sorry, Aaron." Tears slipped down her face as she cried in earnest. "I'm so sorry."

"Open this bloody door!"

"I will not!" Dear Lord, would he hurt her? She'd never seen a man in such a rage. "Aaron, please. I did not lie to you."

Silence. Maybe he was listening.

"Aaron. If you will allow me to explain. The day you showed up at our house, I was shocked. I was afraid." Her hair had come loose from its pins. She shoved the wild mess out of the way. "Aaron. Please listen. When I realized you didn't remember me—"

"Stand back!" he shouted. "This is your last chance to unlock that door."

What?

"Aaron, please."

"So be it."

Crash!

Rebekah smacked her hands over her ears and stared at the splintered wood flying through the air as a chair came hurdling through the chamber door.