“Pay attention for once, Amy,” he said slowly, precisely. “I’ve had enough of you, quite enough. I don’t need what you have to offer anymore.”
He was being deliberately cruel, as he’d been many times before. Only this time it infuriated her, and she retaliated by remembering what Jeremy had once told her.
“Is that so?” she said as she shrugged out of the robe she was wearing and let it slip to the floor. She heard his sharply indrawn breath with satisfaction. “Then have your last look, Warren Anderson, so you’ll remember exactly what you’re giving up.”
She was, of course, quite naked. And he was quite done in by it. He took a step toward her, stumbled actually, and dropped to his knees in front of her. His arms went around her hips; his face pressed into her belly. His groan was heartfelt.
Amy quickly forgot about retribution. Warren quickly forgot his resolutions. There was only the fire that ignited each time they touched. Regrets could be sifted through tomorrow.
They were both going to have some, though not, unfortunately, for the reasons they might have expected.
Chapter 39
“Looks like we’re too late,” Connie remarked.
“Well, don’t look at me,” Anthony said. “I’m not the one who got us into that storm that blew us halfway to Greenland. My dear brother has that honor.”
“You’d best put a lid on it, puppy. Your dear brother is about to commit mayhem.”
That wasn’t quite true, but it was a close thing. James stood on the other side of the bed, looking down at the sleeping couple, and wished to hell that storm hadn’t come between him and his prey. It had taken all of two weeks to close the gap again, but he was still about eight hours in their wake, which was why his ship hadn’t docked until this morning, and why there was no sign of the other ship. So much for his plans to corner the wily bastards.
He hadn’t assumed that the Nereus might have arrived first. He assumed correctly that Warren had managed to deal successfully with the Chinese and could now be found in his home. The two brothers and Connie had gone there straightaway, unable to relax their concern until they were certain Amy was all right. The Andersons’ housekeeper assured them of that, and that the captain and his guest were still sleeping.
She’d gone off to fetch breakfast for them. They’d gone straight upstairs to find the missing pair. They hadn’t expected to find them together.
Now James was beside himself with fury, but well aware that he couldn’t very well kill the man for taking Amy’s innocence when he himself had done the same to Georgina, Warren’s own sister, and got her with child in the bargain. What was infuriating him beyond endurance was that this clinched it. The bounder was going to have to be welcomed into the family now, and not just as a brother-in-law who could be barely tolerated and ignored, if it came down to it, but as James’s nephew-by-marriage. His nephew! Bloody everlasting hell.
“We could be generous, I suppose, and assume that they’ve married,” Anthony said, but the suggestion got him two quick, disgusted looks. “Well, it’s not that farfetched.”
Connie moved back to get out of the way before saying, “Why don’t you ask him?”
“Don’t mind if I do.”
But it was no gentle nudge he gave Warren. Being closest to him, Anthony leaned over and casually backhanded him to get his attention. He got it fast enough. And with that kind of inducement, Warren woke up swinging.
Anthony had already stepped out of the path of damage, but he was the first one Warren saw. “Where the hell did you come from?”
“I’ve got a better one for you, old boy,” Anthony replied. “Are you married?”
“What the hell kind of question—?”
“A pertinent one at the moment. Ah, I see you remember now that you’re not sleeping alone. So?”
“I haven’t married her,” Warren bit out.
Anthony clucked his tongue. “Should’ve lied, Yank, or at least added ‘yet’ to that statement. Bloody stupid of you not to realize that.”
“Whoever said he was smart?”
Warren swung about, catching sight of Connie at the foot of the bed, then his brother-in-law, who’d just been heard from. “Christ,” he hissed as he dropped back against his pillow. “Tell me I’m dreaming.”
It was Amy who answered, her shoulder having been nudged by Warren’s, enough to finally rouse her. “What—”
“We’ve got company,” Warren cut in, his voice dripping disgust.
“The devil we—” But she paused upon spotting her uncle Tony standing beside the bed, and, eyes flaring wide, ended on an appalled note. “Do.”
“Glad to see you’re all right, puss,” Anthony said, only to add, “At least for the most part.”
Amy groaned and buried her face in Warren’s shoulder. But the nightmare got worse.
“No need for that, dear girl,” James said to her back. “We know who’s to blame here.”
“It’s a dream,” she assured Warren. “They’ll go away just as soon as we wake up.”
He merely sighed. “For once I wish you weren’t deluding yourself, Amy.”
“Oh, that’s nice.” She leaned up to glare at him. “That’s just splendid. And don’t think I don’t remember that you tried to put me off last night. Over, are we? Who’s deluding who?”
“Shoulders the blame rather well, don’t she?” Anthony remarked.
“Sort of reminds me of Regan and her penchant for manipulating every little situation,” Connie observed.
“And they’ve got the same atrocious taste in men, unfortunately,” James concluded.
“Very amusing, gentlemen,” Warren said. “But for the lady’s sake, why don’t you get the hell out of here so we can dress before we continue this?”
“You wouldn’t think of crawling out windows, would you?” Anthony replied first.
“On the second floor?” Warren shot back. “I don’t care to break my neck, thank you.”
“That’s rich, Yank.” Anthony chuckled. “Your neck is the least of your worries just now.”
“That’s enough, Tony,” James said. And to Warren, he stated with clear meaning, “As I recall, the study was the preferred room for such discussions. Don’t be long.”
Warren shot off the bed the second the door had closed and began to yank on his clothes. Amy sat up more slowly, holding the sheet to her breasts. The color hadn’t left her cheeks yet. She didn’t think it ever would.
She couldn’t have been more mortified if her own parents had found her. Talking about seducing a man was one thing, being caught at it another entirely. She didn’t want to face her uncles again, not ever. She had no choice.
“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you had planned this,” Warren said as he shrugged into his coat.
Amy stiffened against the bitter intonations she heard. She couldn’t handle one of his attacks now, she really couldn’t.
“I didn’t force you to make love to me last night,” she pointed out.
“Didn’t you?”
The accusation cut to the quick, but more, it made her see herself with his eyes. He was absolutely right. She’d remembered what Jeremy had told her and she’d used it against Warren. For that matter, she’d been utterly self-centered from the very beginning in her campaign to win him, never once taking his present feelings into account, only those she was sure he would have later. But being sure was not proof positive, no matter how strong her instincts in the matter. She had been unfair.
She looked up to tell him how sorry she was, that she wouldn’t manipulate him anymore, but he’d already slipped out of the room.
“So this is where they trounced you?” Anthony said to his brother as they walked into the large study downstairs. “Well, there was certainly enough room for it.”
“Shut up, Tony.”
But Anthony was never one to take advice unless it suited him. In the same vein, he said, “You must show me the infamous cellar as well while we’re here so I can tell Jac
k all about it someday. I’m sure she’ll be fascinated to hear how her uncle nearly hung her father.”
James took a step forward. Connie leapt between them. And Warren walked in, to ask, “Couldn’t wait for me?”
The two brothers abruptly turned away from each other. Connie straightened his coat and said agreeably, “Good timing, Yank. They were about to forget that it’s you they’d like to throttle.”
“So who wants the pleasure?” Warren asked, looking between them.
“Not me, old boy,” Anthony replied. “I’ve been through this myself, don’t you know, though I didn’t have the in-laws breathing down my neck. Weren’t any, as it happens. Had to do the honorable on my own.”
Warren turned to James. “Are you going to play the hypocrite, then?”
It was a moment before James replied, “No. As long as you set things right, I’ll keep my hands off you. And under the circumstances, caught as it were, you don’t have a bloody choice, do you?”
Warren was aware of that, which was why he was so furious himself. It was one thing to enjoy Amy’s charms if her family never learned about it, but something else again now that they did know about it.
“I’ll marry her,” he gritted out, “but I’m damned if I’ll live with her, and I’m damned if I’ll take any more interference from you bastards.”
“Well, good God, man, you don’t have to be that accommodating,” Anthony said. “We’d have settled for just the marriage part.”
“Do you want to marry me?”
Warren swung around to see Amy standing in the doorway. She’d done no more than slip into her very mussed dress. Her feet were bare. His fingers had helped to mess that glorious mane of black hair. And the effervescence that was so much a part of her was missing.
He was too angry to note the tightening in his chest, too angry to see that she was braced for his reply. “You already know the answer to that. I have never once indicated otherwise, have I?”
Amy might have been prepared for that answer, but actually hearing it, after everything they’d shared recently—after last night…The pain was nearly unbearable, swelling in her chest and throat. But he was standing there, angry and as stubborn as ever, and she’d die before she let him know how much he’d just hurt her.
“Then that settles that,” she said matter-of-factly.
“Not bloody likely, dear girl,” James told her. “His preferences don’t enter into this.”
“’Course they do. I won’t marry him.”
Incredulous, James demanded, “Do you know what your father’s going to say about this?”
But Amy merely replied, “I won’t marry him until he asks me.”
“There’s such a thing as too much stubbornness, puss,” Anthony said, drawing her attention to him.
And James added, “He’ll bloody well ask you to marry him, Amy. I guarantee it.”
“That kind of asking won’t count. He has to mean it, and I have to know he means it. I told you before, Uncle James, that I won’t have him if he comes forced to the altar. Now, that ends this discussion. I’d like to go home as soon as possible, if one of you will arrange it.”
She didn’t look at Warren again. She simply walked away as quietly as she’d appeared. But the exasperation she’d left behind was palpable, at least for two occupants of the room.
“Bloody hell,” James snarled.
“Well, that lets you off the hook, Yank.” This from Anthony with a full dose of disgust. “But it also means you’ll stay the hell away from her, or I’ll wipe the floor with you myself.”
Warren wasn’t at all worried about that threat, since he had no intention of ever going near Amy again. But he wasn’t sure if it was relief he was now feeling, and if not, what the hell was it that was wrenching at his gut and making him want to run after her? Not that he was going to give in to this nameless emotion.
To put the question from his mind, he turned to James and asked, “How did you get here so quickly, anyway?”
“On your ship.”
Ordinarily, Warren would have exploded upon hearing something like that, but as it happened, he was delighted to have his ship at his disposal just now. He’d move to her quarters immediately.
“You will excuse me, then, gentlemen. Make yourselves welcome in my home. I’m going to the Nereus to see what’s left of her.”
It was a dig that went straight to the heart of James’s seamanship. James retaliated by saying, “Not much.”
Warren didn’t take the bait. “You’ll understand, under the circumstances, why I’m not going to offer you transport back to England.”
“As if we’d put you and Amy on another ship together,” Anthony grumbled.
Warren didn’t take that bait either. “Then perhaps we won’t see each other again.”
They could all hope.
Chapter 40
Warren’s brothers had left earlier in the week to return to England with the new manager. If he sailed immediately, there was a chance he could rendezvous with them at sea and thereby avoid returning to England himself to explain.
He didn’t sail immediately. He found out for himself which other ships would be departing for that part of the world. One was scheduled to leave in three days. He expected Amy to be on it. And as long as she and her uncles were leaving that soon, there was really no point in his returning to London at all. They could take care of the explanations to his brothers. The new manager would be installed in the Skylark office. There was nothing else for him to do in London—except to be too close to Amy again for his peace of mind.
The last persuaded him to avoid England entirely for a few years, especially since he was already having a hard time staying away from his house while Amy was still in it. He kept having this nagging feeling that he shouldn’t have let it end the way it had, that he should have taken the time to explain to her, privately, why he still wouldn’t marry her; that it wasn’t her, but marriage itself, that he objected to. Of course, she probably knew that, since she knew so much about his background, including his history with Marianne, but it wouldn’t have hurt to reiterate why he wouldn’t ask her to be his wife.
And he couldn’t get the last sight of her out of his mind, with that mixture of hurt, defeat, and obstinacy that changed her appearance, made her look older than her eighteen years, made him want to comfort her. She’d come to his rescue, refused to have him except on her terms. For that he was grateful—or he should be. But the plain fact was, she’d refused to have him.
Christ, he wasn’t going to let that bother him, too, was he?
Warren threw himself into work and socializing with old friends. On the day Amy sailed, he got roaring drunk and spent the next day in bed wishing he hadn’t; then he got on with his life. He moved back into his house, but not into his bedroom, whose last potent memories were too strong to bear. He scheduled a run to the West Indies that would take several months, purchased the cargo, and spent his last evening in town with Mac, who wisely refrained from mentioning any Malorys.
On the morning of his departure, he walked to the docks to enjoy the late-summer weather, but in his present mood he found nothing pleasing about it. Five days had passed since Amy had left town, and it was getting easier not to think of her—That wasn’t the truth. He couldn’t stop thinking about her. But it would get easier. It had to, because the memories were actually becoming painful.
As it happened, that walk through town wasn’t uneventful. Turning a corner leading to the docks. Warren saw Marianne, and all the old bitterness welled up to nearly choke him. Dressed in sunny yellow right up to her parasol, she looked every inch a rich man’s wife, yet he’d heard of her divorce. He wasn’t sure what he thought about it, if anything, because he hadn’t spared the time to give it any thought at all.
He’d have to pass her to reach the docks. The devil he would. He turned to cross the street, but she’d seen him. He stiffened when she called his name, but he didn’t take another step. He waited for her to app
roach him, making her come to him. Once he would have done her slightest bidding. Now he could barely tolerate the sight of her, though with her blond hair and light blue eyes, she was still just as beautiful as she’d always been.
“How are you, Warren?”
“In no mood for idle conversation,” he replied curtly. “So if you’ll excuse me—”
“Still bitter? I’d hoped not.”
“Why?” he sneered. “Thinking of taking up where you left off?”
“No. I got what I wanted, independence from any man. I wouldn’t give that up for anything.”
“Then why are we talking?”
She gave him a smile he remembered as indicating patience. He’d forgotten that about her, her boundless patience, how nothing could ruffle her feathers. Now that he thought about it, it was more a lack of emotion on her part, so different from Amy’s patience, or rather tolerance, because Amy was anything but patient.
“I almost came to your house, you know,” she told him, “when I heard you were back. But I didn’t quite have the nerve. So I’m glad I’ve run into you, because I want to tell you I’m sorry for my part in Steven’s scheme. I couldn’t tell you that before, but now that I’m divorced, I can.”
“And I’m supposed to believe that?”
“It’s all right if you don’t I just need to clear my conscience. Not that I would have done anything differently, but I never felt good about doing it.”
“Doing what, Marianne? What the hell are you talking about?”
“Steven set the whole thing up—you, me. It was all a well-thought-out plan that was conceived by him before you and I even met. And you fell for it. You were young and gullible, and it was a simple plan. Get you to fall in love with me, then jilt you for your worst rival. But the baby was part of the deal. So was the divorce, for that matter. As I said, he planned everything beforehand. All he needed was a woman to pull it off, and he found her in me, because what he offered in return was too good for me to turn down. To be rich and independent, without having to answer to any man. That was the lure. That’s why I did it.”