Redeeming Jack (8 page)

* * *

When Carys arrived at Gareth’s lodgings, she found her brother in a state of panic. After a few scathing sisterly admonitions as to the general incompetence of men, she packed Gareth’s bag, retied his cravat and helped him into his greatcoat. A further delay was avoided when Carys located Gareth’s favorite hat with one of the house cats curled up inside it.

Carys was looking forward to going home. She’d kept her promise and appeared in public with Oliver and his reluctant mother. Oliver had also agreed with her plans to deal with Jack. After visiting the Llewelyns’ solicitor, she had nothing to keep her in the city. She opened the gold locket she wore around her neck and gazed at the portrait of Owen and the lock of his blond hair. It would be wonderful to see him again. She hated being away from him for more than a few days.

She was removing white cat hair from Gareth’s hat when Jack strolled in. His shabby greatcoat hung over one shoulder and his blond hair glinted sparks in the sunlight. He nodded at her as he hoisted her trunk onto his shoulder with accustomed ease. Leaving Gareth to bring his own bags, Jack descended the steep front steps of the mews house.

A closed carriage bearing the Duke of Diable Delamere’s family crest on the paneled door awaited them. Carys replaced her bonnet, buttoned her chestnut brown pelisse and followed Gareth outside. Jack stayed to hand her in as Gareth brushed past her with a mumbled excuse.

Carys hesitated, her hand still in Jack’s. Should she sit by her brother and trade glances with Jack for hour upon tedious hour? Perhaps if she sat beside him she might avoid the subtle temptation of his eyes.

Gareth blew his nose, slumped into the corner seat with a theatrical groan and went back to sleep. With an air of decision, Carys took the seat opposite him and settled her skirts around her ankles. The carriage was decked out in luxurious gray leather and satin. Fanciful embroidered mermaids and devil fish adorned the cushions and window curtains.

Jack squeezed in beside her, making the carriage rock. His large frame trapped her against the side of the carriage. She tried to move away but somehow he oozed into every available inch of space like soft, melting toffee.

The carriage started with a lurch and threw Carys forward. Jack shot out an arm, caught her elbow and gently pressed her back into the seat. The hard strength of his fingers permeated even the thickness of her sleeve. To her chagrin, she wasn’t sure if she wanted him to remove his hand or keep it there. He rubbed a small circle with his thumb, soothing her as he’d done when she had run to him for consolation.

He leaned toward her. “All better now,
cariad
?”

She shrugged off his hand. “Yes, thank you. There’s no need to mollycoddle me. I’m no longer a child.”

He sat back, his smile fading. “You think I don’t know that? You stopped wanting my comfort years ago.”

Pain stung at her like a sharp slap. But before she could retaliate, he held up his hand.

“Forgive me, that wasn’t fair. I know you have truly suffered.” His smile was wry. “I was always an inadequate source of comfort for you, wasn’t I? I was too young and spoiled to understand how desperate you felt, and too scared to offer you anything but awkward, hackneyed phrases that meant nothing.”

Carys studied her gloved hands. She hadn’t expected him to broach such a painful subject within five minutes of commencing their journey. Could she return his unexpected honesty with her own? “I was also young. It never occurred to me that you left one bloody battlefield in the Peninsular and came home to deal with another. Between your parents and me, you must have been driven mad.”

He gripped her fingers. “Christ, Carys, there’s no comparison. You miscarried three babies—
our
babies. I should never have allowed my nightmares about Spain to poison our lives together.” He drew in a breath. “It’s a pitiful excuse, but at the time my life seemed to be filled with the sufferings of people I couldn’t help.” He met her gaze head on. “I walked away from you because I felt useless. I couldn’t bear to see the hurt in your eyes.” He hesitated. “I couldn’t bear the thought that you might die as well.”

After her frank conversation with Michael Waterstone, Carys felt the first glimmering of an understanding of what Jack had endured. There were so many questions she wanted to ask him, so many small hurts and unresolved issues.

“Jack, I…”

Gareth opened one blood shot eye. “Will you two be quiet? I’m trying to sleep.”

Jack released her hand and turned to stare out of the window. His rigid posture indicated he’d rather not speak again. Carys sighed and searched through her purse for a book. If nobody wished to talk to her, she would console herself with the imaginary world, a far simpler place where everyone lived happily ever after.

* * *

By the time they stopped for the night at the Castle Inn near Reading, Jack’s affable, smiling mask was back in place. While he flirted with Daisy the serving maid, who showed them into a private parlor, Carys shot him a dangerous glance. He bowed low to the giggling girl when she flounced past him and Carys took the opportunity to stand hard on his foot. His smile disappeared as the door swung shut.

“Whatever is the matter, Carys?”

Carys paused and untied her bonnet ribbons. “I’m embarrassed at the spectacle you make of yourself. That girl was young enough to be your daughter.”

“I’d say she was the age you were when you married me. Are you suggesting she’s too young to know her own mind?”

Carys tossed her reticule onto the table with a thump. “Are you implying that I was?”

Jack shrugged and strolled across to the sideboard to pour himself a drink. “You tell me.”

Gareth took the tankard Jack offered him and glanced at Carys. “Are you two going to spend the entire journey sniping at each other? It makes it very hard on a man’s digestion, literally curdles the stomach. Can you not agree to get along?”

“My estranged husband is to blame for any unpleasantness, Gareth. You should know that better than anyone. If I remember correctly, he
shot
you when you dared to interfere in his schemes.”

Gareth glanced nervously at Jack, who stood, arms folded, glaring at Carys. “Er, that’s all forgotten now, my dearest sister. Jack and I have agreed to be friends.”

Carys marched across the carpet and snatched Jack’s glass from his unresisting fingers. “He
says
he wishes to be friends with me, Gareth, but I’ve seen little sign of it.”

She lifted the glass to her lips and defiantly swallowed the contents, wheezing in shock as the rough alcohol burned a path down to her stomach. Through teary eyes she stared up at her husband, daring him to laugh.

Jack reached out and trapped a trickle of brandy at the corner of her mouth with his thumb. “Were we ever friends or only misguided lovers?” He traced her lower lip and she resisted a desire to touch the tip of her tongue to his calloused skin. “Was there ever anything real between us except lust?”

“I thought there was.” She glared up at him. “Dammit, Jack, I
worshipped
you.” Before he could answer, she stepped back. “I’m going upstairs to make myself presentable. Will you and Gareth order dinner, and I’ll come down to you in an hour.”

“As you wish, my lady.”

Carys could only nod, her attention on the burning sensation that lingered on her lips. It seemed as if Jack’s touch still branded her far more than the alcohol ever would.

* * *

After Carys’s departure, Jack stared in frustration at the closed parlor door. What was the matter with him? This was hardly the way to make things right with her. Fighting, when all he truly wanted was to make peace. Half smiling, he recollected her scornful face. She was no longer a shy, adoring bride or the upper-class lady his mother had tried to mold her into. She was truly herself. In a strange way he was absurdly proud of her.

Jack turned and met Gareth’s speculative stare. “I’ll wager you are beginning to wish you’d never agreed to this journey.”

“Not at all. I’m enjoying it. In truth, I haven’t seen my sister so animated in years.”

“You don’t object to our squabbling?”

“It’s not pleasant, but at least Carys is showing some emotion.” Gareth saluted Jack with his pewter tankard. “Since she’s taken up with Lord Oliver Rice, she’s been far too saintly in my opinion.” He sighed heavily. “I was beginning to think she’d forgotten how to live.”

“I bled the
life
out of her, Gareth, don’t you remember? I was the fool who kept getting her pregnant.”

Jack spotted Carys’s abandoned purse on the table and picked it up. His fingers caressed the embroidered silk as he remembered his wedding night. He’d hesitated to introduce Carys to lovemaking, afraid he’d made a terrible mistake in claiming her so young. To his surprise, she’d claimed him as fiercely and bravely as she embraced everything in her life. He’d been swept along by her sense of rightness. Far from complaining when he’d taken her virginity, she’d gloried in his possession of her…

Gareth remained silent for a long while, his clear blue eyes, so like Carys’s, trained on Jack’s face. “That’s in God’s hands, Jack. You did what any man in love with his wife would do.”

Turning his back on Gareth, Jack stared out of the window at the busy coach yard below. “I was selfish. Whenever I returned from the war, I tried to bury those memories by burying myself in her. I forgot she would have to pay the ultimate penalty for my indulgence.”

Gareth noisily cleared his throat. “Don’t take all the blame yourself, man. Carys wanted those babies as much as you did.”

“Gareth is right, Jack.”

Jack swung around and saw Carys framed in the doorway, hands clasped tightly together, her face pale.

She gestured at the purse. “I came to fetch my reticule. I didn’t mean to overhear.”

Blindly, Jack held it out to her, but she didn’t take it. Gareth muttered an inaudible excuse and left the room. Jack waited, eyes on the tattered carpet, as Carys advanced toward him. The toes of her walking boots poked out from beneath the muddied hem of her green gown.

“I wanted a baby more than anything else in the world. Toward the end of our marriage, I was so desperate I ignored all your attempts to prevent further pregnancies. Don’t you remember that?”

Jack couldn’t look at her. “I was older and more experienced. I should have been able to stop you…”

“Ah, but you did in the end, didn’t you?” To his surprise, Carys didn’t sound angry anymore. “You found the perfect way to keep away from my bed.”

He looked at her then, his fingers digging into the metal clasp of her reticule, bruising his flesh. “If you are referring to my dishonorable dismissal from the army, believe me, I didn’t arrange that for your benefit.”

“I was referring to your adulterous relationship with Mrs. Sian Williams. You must have known that word would get back to me.” She tried to smile. “You cannot imagine how many pitying visits I received from our neighbors eager to commiserate with me.”

“I didn’t—”

Carys laid a hand on his arm. “It’s all right. I can even forgive you for that now. In your own ridiculous, masculine fashion, I suppose you were trying to protect me.”

She took the purse from his suddenly nerveless fingers and turned to leave. He watched her retreat, repressing a strong desire to call her back. Being graciously forgiven for something he hadn’t done was a new experience. He’d never taken a mistress during their marriage.

He was damned if he even knew who Mrs. Sian Williams was!

CARYS STOLE A cautious glance at Jack as he consumed a portion of pork pie and washed it down with a tankard of ale. After the revelations of the previous evening, he was unwilling to talk to her. She was annoyed with herself for mentioning Mrs. Williams. Flinging the name of a man’s mistress in his face was not the best way to initiate a quiet, reasonable conversation. And seeing as she’d lied when she’d said she’d forgiven him, perhaps it was for the best.

Staring into her coffee, she slowly stirred the gritty residue with her spoon. Perhaps she should sit next to Gareth today and avoid all contact with Jack. From the shuttered look on his face, she guessed he required at least another day before he descended from his high perch of affronted masculine pride.

Carys tried to see out of the window. If the weather held, they would reach Swansea in three more days. She wanted Jack to talk to her solicitor there and agree to her requests. It was so tempting to argue with him, and she needed to keep him sweet. Jack was the only man who had ever been able to rouse her passions. In truth, he excelled at it, accepting the good with the bad, tempting and teasing her into behaving in a most unladylike manner.

A vision of Oliver avoiding her attempts to kiss him rose in her mind. Jack’s mother had always doubted Carys could behave like a lady. Sometimes, Carys sensed that Oliver felt the same way. Perhaps he fondly imagined she would transform into a more conformable wife after their marriage. Jack’s mother had thought that, too, and made Carys’s new life miserable before she’d given up in despair.

Carys sniffed, and Jack looked up. Their glances met, his brown eyes considering her. It occurred to Carys that Jack never expected her to be anything but herself. The only time he’d ever attempted to influence her was over the matter of her failed pregnancies. He’d tried to persuade her that he didn’t want a child, didn’t need to lie with her, but she’d been determined to do her duty—to prove to his mother that she was good at
something
. Seducing him hadn’t been hard when he’d wanted her so desperately.

She took a hasty sip of her coffee and gagged at the bitter taste. Gareth slapped her on the back until she begged him to stop. Her head began to pound as she gazed around the dining parlor. A Mail coach had just pulled in and disgorged its hungry passengers into the already overcrowded space. The mingled smells of overcooked beef, strong coffee and damp humanity flooded her tired senses. Another day of traveling awaited her. Another day of mentally fencing with Jack.