One True Love (25 page)

"Let me go! You are hurting me."

He relaxed his grip, but did not let her go. "Cassie, darling. I have missed you. My heart and soul aches for you, burns for you. Why did you marry another man? Did you not trust in our love? Could you not wait me to find a way out of my predicament? If you had only waited you would be Lady Winnington now."

Tears burned Cassie's eyes at the anguish in his voice. She did not mean to hurt him. At the time, she thought she loved him. Her feelings were those of youthful first love, and a fleeting romance. What they had was not real, or deep, or meant to be forever. How could she tell him her heart changed over the past weeks?

"I am sorry, truly I am, but there is no going back. Please, let me go. I need to return to my husband's side."

"No!" His vehemence startled her. He never raised his voice before. A dark cloud passed over his face. "You are mine. You were promised to me first, and I will be damned if I let another man take you."

His mouth crushed hers, possessive and demanding. She tried to pull away, but he was too strong for her. He pulled her tighter, and held her around the waist with one arm, as he fondled her breast with his other hand. She squealed at the shocking touch. He took full advantage and thrust his tongue into her mouth. She stamped on his foot, but he pinched her breast in cruel response. Why was he doing this to her?

There was a time when she wanted his kisses, but now, she only wanted to get away from him. She tried to push him away in order to run to the safety of her husband's arms. He made her feel dirty and violated. Fear rose in her bosom and the shock of his unwanted attack shook her from the inside out. She managed to slip one arm out of his grasp and punch him on his chest as she fought for air.

He swiftly turned her, backed her up against a tree, and brutally pushed her into the hard, scraping bark. She heard the rip of her bodice and felt his hand on her exposed breast. He squeezed and pinched her nipple as tears came to her eyes. She broke the kiss and screamed when she felt his body yanked from hers.

Cassie sank to the ground, wrapped her arms around her stomach and sobbed. She heard the sounds of fist connecting with face, breaking bones, and bodies crashing to the ground. She looked up in time to see Lord Winnington on the ground clutching his broken nose. William stood over him, breathing hard, with an intensely dark, angry scowl. She cringed from the scene. His eyes met hers, but the desire to fling herself into his arms and sob was met with a sneer of disgust.

"Right yourself now. We will leave out a back gate."

At first, she did not move, still too shocked to register his words until William barked at her. She scrambled to her feet as if threatened by a rabid dog. She raced behind him, followed him to the gate, and waited as he whistled for a boy to tell his coachman to pull around the back. They waited in silence for the coach. A footman jumped down and opened the door. Her husband stood back as the footman handed her up. She collapsed on the seat and fell against the wall of the carriage.

Exhaustion from the nightmare claimed her. She never would have dreamed that Lord Winnington would treat her so abominably. William remained silent and brooded all the way to the townhouse. She longed for him to hold her, to comfort her, but he did not offer, and she did not ask.

When they arrived home, he stepped from the carriage and offered his hand, but his touch was cold, and his eyes were even colder. She understood his anger, but why was it directed at her? She was the victim.

"Go to your room," he ordered. She did not bother to argue with him, or ask questions. Exhausted, she dragged herself up the stairs, as tears streamed down her face.

***

William stormed into his study and picked up the first breakable object, and slammed it on the stone surrounding the fireplace. The betrayal cut across his heart, and sliced his pride into ribbons. Maybe he
was
cursed, and was meant to live without the love of one woman. He muttered expletives beneath his breath and paced the room like a caged tiger.

The full force of his idiotic life hit like a blow to his head when he saw his wife in the arms of Winnington. She could not resist her former betrothed. He fumed and admitted he should have left her to rot in Yorkshire.

Damn!
They were making progress.
She
was the one who demanded
his
attention. He gave it to her, and look what it cost him. He was the fool of besotted fools. What was wrong with him? The mirror did not show any significant flaws in his physical appearance, in fact, a reasonable person would call him handsome.

He bathed daily, so she could not complain about body odor. He sniffed his underarms and caught a whiff of something unpleasant. Well, hell, it was damned hot in that stuffy ballroom. He poured himself a generous glass of brandy and swallowed the dark liquid. It burned down his throat and warmed him throughout. After he downed the first glass, he poured another.

The bottle of brandy provided the only comfort he would receive this night. He sat down with his glass and bottle, laid his head against the leather chair, and closed his eyes against the waves of pain that pierced his soul.

Her face came to him, like a golden angel coming out of the clouds. So beautiful, so sweet and kind. He mistakenly believed time would bring her to him, teach her to love him, but he now knew her first love was too strong, too real, and the knowledge of it left him without hope.

Chapter Fourteen

Cassie wrung her hands and wondered if she would ever see her husband again. The infuriating man escaped the house by the crack of dawn, and returned late in the night. Where did he go all this time? Her heart broke in two when he sent her to her room and left without so much as a word. Torn between tears of anguish and tears of anger at his betrayal, she decided to continue on with or without him.

She pressed her hand against her belly for the hundredth time since she figured out William's child grew within her. She desperately wanted to tell William her happy news, but drat the man; he did not make himself available for even a moment. Rage shot through her as she thought about how he blamed her for Lord Winnington's assualt. She did not do anything wrong! She wanted to smash something, more than something; she wanted to smash lots of things.

She took several deep breaths to calm herself, after all, what good would it do to break everything in the house? She went down to breakfast and hoped her husband sat at the table enjoying his coddled eggs and toast.

His chair sat empty.

She inquired of the servants who told her William left the house before they rose from their beds.

Over the next several days, Cassie tried to rise early to catch her husband, but the smells of breakfast took her the moment she entered the room. She barely made it back upstairs to the chamber pot before retching her dinner from the night before. The doctor she visited confirmed her pregnancy, then informed her the sickness was normal and it would eventually pass. If only William would come home so she could share her news with him. The news she intended to share the night of the ball.

***

William did not want to return to the house and chance seeing his wife. He needed time away to remove Cassie from the place she claimed in his heart, yet he feared the time away made little difference. Realizing his efforts were futile, and his heart hers, he began to accept his life sentence in a loveless marriage. The one thing he would not tolerate was her unfaithfulness. She made a vow before their families and God, and she would keep it if he had to lock her up at Rosehill Manor.

As usual, his thoughts turned sour when she came to his mind, which happened to be all of the time. He wasted his days away from her. There was business to attend to, and papers to sign, and all of this was located in his study. Although the idea appealed to him, he could no longer continue to hide. He needed to stay away from her –
far away
. Otherwise, he might not survive the torment that tore him to pieces.

William entered the house and caught a glance of his wife in a near run up the stairs. What was the hurry? Did her lover come in the night and just now leave? Is he still there? Pure rage filled his soul and before he knew what he was doing, he took the stairs two at a time. He made it to the door connecting their rooms just in time to hear her retch. Good God, she was sick. His stomach turned at the unpleasant sound and smell. He cracked the door and watched as she washed her face and rinsed her mouth, oblivious to his intrusion. She lay down on her bed, like a pale angel framed by golden curls, and his heart twisted.

She was sick after all, and it was his responsibility to care for his wife. He watched as she clutched her stomach and moaned. Quietly, he closed the door and went to the bell pull. Cassie's lady's maid arrived, then he ordered a footman to fetch Dr. Breckman immediately. He paced his room and listened while she retched again. He almost went to her, but in the end, decided against it.

He went downstairs and waited in the foyer for the doctor's arrival. As soon as the man entered the house, William grabbed him by the elbow. "Dr. Breckman, my wife is sick. She is vomiting and holding her stomach. You must see to her immediately."

Dr. Breckman laughed.
Laughed.

"What is so funny? I just told you my wife is sick!" He bellowed loud enough to wake the dead.

"Expectant fathers are always more jittery than expectant mothers." His eyes twinkled and a smile lit his face.

William pulled him towards the stairs, but the man stood his ground. "What the bloody hell are you talking about? You need to see my wife
now
." William's patience neared the breaking point. Why was the man blabbering?

"Your wife's symptoms are normal, Lord William. Calm yourself. It is too early for a glass of brandy, but perhaps a small amount is just what you need. "Shall we go to your study for a chat?"

The doctor must have lost his mind. Why would he need brandy? How would he know his wife's symptoms were normal?
Expectant fathers and mothers...

The blood drained from William's face. He shook his head and ran his hands through his hair. He was an idiot. "Have you attended my wife recently?"

"Just last week. I am assuming she has not mentioned her condition to you yet. Perhaps she was waiting to surprise you."

"I am sure she was," he ground out. "I am sorry I wasted your time, doctor. I thought my wife was ill."

"Perhaps it is time to talk to your wife, Lord William."

"Yes, I suppose it is. Send me your bill to compensate for your time. If you will excuse me." He nodded to the doctor and ran up the stairs.

A child. A son. Or maybe a daughter with golden hair and green eyes.
The thought warmed the chill within his heart. Why had she not told him?

William took the stairs two at a time. He needed to see Cassie. He admitted he missed his wife. His heart hammered in his chest. The pain of rejection filtered through his brain. He stopped on the top stair and recalled each ridiculous moment when a woman had turned him away. On each occasion, he was disappointed, yet his heart never dealt with the crushing pain he experienced as of late.

Seeing his wife in another man's arms was the ultimate rejection. Bitterness crawled across his skin like livestock from the filth of the London slums. Winnington's mocking smirk slithered across his memory as he recalled how the rogue bested him in a card game at White's. He thought of his wife laughing and talking with her former love at the horse race, and he remembered the lowlife's hands on her in the gardens. He left his wife to her own devices during the day and at night. He left her to the manipulation of her former betrothed. Had he driven her to the Winnington's bed?

William sat down on the top step and rubbed his temples. The thought of his lovely wife gloriously naked in bed with her golden curls tossed about the pillows, and Winnington touching her, making love to her, sent him into a complete tailspin. Had his efforts to protect his own heart resulted in his wife turning to her first love? Did the child she carry belong to Winnington?

The possibility shook his soul, and twisted his insides until he leapt up without conscious thought and stormed into Cassie's room.

***

The nausea finally passed. Lately, Cassie was tired to the marrow of her bones. Sleep transported her to a sweet, dreamless place.