Rule's Bride (29 page)

Violet was grateful. She needed time to accept the life that lay ahead of her, the knowledge that her husband would never love her the way she had always dreamed.

Once she was properly prepared for sleep, he lifted her into his arms and carried her over to the bed. As she settled beneath the covers, he stripped down to his drawers and
joined her. True to his word, he merely lay down and gathered her back against his chest.

Violet felt tears welling. It was ridiculous. Rule was a good husband. He cared for her, worried about her, did his best to comfort her as he was doing now.

A fire burned low in the hearth. Orange flames curled over the grate and bathed the room in a soft golden glow. She could feel the warmth of Rule's body, curled spoon-fashion around her, a muscular arm draped over her hip. Against her back, she felt the rhythmic rise and fall of his breathing.

Her heart swelled with love for him and suddenly lying next to him wasn't enough. She turned onto her back and looked up at him, set a hand against his cheek, roughened by his evening's growth of beard.

“I need you, Rule,” she said, knowing it was true, knowing she would never leave him, no matter his feelings for her, no matter that she might not be able to hold him.

Rule bent toward her, settled his lips over hers. “Violet…” he whispered.

The kiss deepened, lengthened, turned fierce. A kiss that went on and on and seemed to have no end, a languid kiss, a torrid kiss, a kiss that stole the very breath from her lungs.

Her nightgown felt too heavy, too much of a barrier between them. She sat up and let him draw it off over her head, waited as he removed the last of his own clothes, the final obstacle between them.

“I need you, too,” he said, kissing her again.

She could feel the hard proof of his desire, hot against her thigh, thought that he would come up over her, fill her as she wished him to do, but instead, he lifted her, settled her astride him.

“I want to see you. I want to watch you reach your pleasure.”

Her breasts thrust toward him, seemed to swell at his words, her nipples turning kernel hard. Rule reached up and cupped them in his palms, gently squeezed, made them ache and swell. She let her head fall back, giving him better access, feeling the brush of her long copper hair against her hips. His mouth replaced his hands, suckling her, making her tremble at the hot sensations.

His mouth toyed with hers, melding, his tongue fencing, driving her mad with desire for him. His hands gripped her hips, lifting her a little, and positioned her to receive him. He was big and hard, thick and heavy, and she wanted him inside her. She was wet and ready, aching to join with him, her flesh softening, surrounding him, beginning to pulse with need for him.

“Rule…” she whispered, taking more of him, hearing the hiss of his breath as he filled her completely. All the love she felt for him welled inside her. Leaning forward, she rested her hands on his powerful shoulders, her long hair falling forward, forming a curtain around them, enclosing them in the intimate world they shared.

Love for him warmed her insides as the fire warmed their naked flesh.

She began to move and incredible pleasure slid through her. Faint tremors quaked through her limbs. She raised and lowered her hips, taking him deeply, absorbing the pleasure, giving him pleasure, too.

The muscles in Rule's hard body tightened. His hands gripped her hips once more, demanding now, insistent. For several moments, he kept her on the edge, trapped by the building sensations, the feel of their bodies joined as one.

Then he growled her name and thrust deeply and she couldn't hold back any longer.

Release tore through her, pleasure rocked her senses as
she reached her release and an instant later, Rule reached his, his seed spilling hotly inside her.

Long moments passed as she lay slumped against him, felt the brush of his lips against her hair. But no words of love slipped from his lips.

I love you so much,
she wanted to tell him, but the words remained locked away. She wasn't sure she would ever say them again.

Her heart hurt, throbbed as if a knife had pierced it, as if it bled inside her chest. She loved him, desired him, welcomed him into her body. She made his house a home and one day she would bear his children.

She meant everything to him, he had said.

But he did not love her.

The tears in her eyes began to slip down her cheeks. Turning away, she stared into the darkness, hoping that Rule would not see.

A
t the sound of his butler's voice, Royal looked up from behind the desk in his study. Tomorrow he and his family would be returning to Bransford Castle. Now that the charges had been dropped against Rule, he and Lily could resume the quiet country life they loved.

“What is it, Rutgers?” he asked of the gray-haired man in the doorway.

“Your brother Lord Rule is arrived, Your Grace. He is just—”

“I'm right here,” Rule said darkly, stalking past the butler into the study. His cravat was untied, his face unshaven, his black hair in complete disarray. Faint smudges appeared beneath his eyes and worry lines etched his forehead.

“What the bloody hell has happened to you?”

Rule just shook his head. There was something in his eyes, something so haunted and bereft that Royal's chest tightened.

He rose from behind his desk, softening his voice as he walked toward his youngest brother. “Tell me what is wrong.”

Rule stared off toward the window. His throat moved up and down. “Violet loves me and I can't love her back.”

Royal frowned. “What are you talking about? Why ever not? You've chosen the perfect mate for yourself. Violet is beautiful and giving, loyal and caring, she is—”

“You don't have to list my wife's virtues,” Rule said, looking miserable. “You think I don't know them by now? Violet is all of those things and more. She is intelligent and brave and sweet and passionate. She is everything a man could want in a wife.”

“Clearly you desire her. When you're with her, you can barely keep your hands off her. And you seem to care for her.”

“Of course I care.”

“Then what is the problem?”

Emotion flashed in Rule's eyes. “The problem is Violet wants me to love her. I don't think she can ever be happy with a man who isn't capable of love. But I don't know how. I have no idea what the emotion feels like. I haven't the slightest idea what it means to love a woman.” Rule sank down on the sofa, dropped his head into his hands.

Royal approached him quietly, feeling some of his brother's pain. “I know you never had a mother. I realize the women you've been involved with in the past weren't the sort who deserved your love. But Violet is your wife.”

Rule swallowed. “I know.” For an instant, Royal thought he caught a glint of moisture in his brother's blue eyes.

“Perhaps I can help you,” Royal said softly, resting a hand on Rule's shoulder. “You want to know what love is? Let me try to explain it, little brother.”

Rule just sat there.

“Love is when you think of someone no matter how far away they are. It's when you would rather be with that person than anyone else. It's when the sound of their laughter makes you smile. When you admire them for standing up to you, instead of getting angry. It's when you look at
another woman and think how beautiful she is but there isn't a chance you would rather make love to her than the woman in your bed.”

Rule was staring as if he tried to process the words.

“Love is when you can't sleep at night unless the person you love is beside you. When you can't imagine a future without her in your life. It's when you look at your wife and feel your chest go tight. When you secretly thank God that He gave her to you. Love is when you feel sick to your stomach because you have hurt her.” Royal looked into Rule's haggard face, felt the tension in his shoulders. “Which I have a strong suspicion is the way you are feeling right now.”

Rule worked a muscle in his jaw. For several long moments he said nothing. Then he swallowed and rose from the sofa, straightening to his full height. “I love her, don't I?”

Royal just smiled. “Of course you do. I think you have loved her since the day she arrived from America and boldly showed up in your drawing room.”

Relief washed over Rule's face, making the dark lines disappear. “I love her.” A slow smile curved his lips. “I love Violet Dewar!”

Royal laughed. “I am glad you have finally figured it out. Now that you know, I think you had better tell her.”

“Yes… Yes, of course.” He started for the door. “I have to go.”

Royal followed him down the hall to the entry.

As Rule passed in front of a gilded mirror above the hall table, he caught a glimpse of himself and paused at his dishevel. “I had to get out of the house. I didn't bother with the niceties.” He ran a hand over his unshaven beard. “I look like I spent the night in a gutter.”

“I don't think Violet will care what you look like.”

Rule grinned, a broad flash of white that made him look younger than he had in years. “No, she won't care. She loves me. Thanks to you, I am finally beginning to understand what that means.”

Rule hurried out the door, and Royal turned to see Lily approaching, her delicate features radiant at the sight of him. She was pale and beautiful, sweet and giving. He had learned the meaning of love through Lily. And as he had said, he thanked God every day for the gift of her.

“That was Rule, wasn't it?” she said. “He didn't stay very long. What did he want?”

“Just a little brotherly advice.” Royal turned toward her. Taking the woman he loved into his arms, he very tenderly kissed her.

 

Rule couldn't get home fast enough. He felt as if a boulder had been lifted off his chest, as if a ray of sunlight had suddenly descended from heaven to illuminate his way.

He was in love. Insanely in love with his wife.

He couldn't imagine why he'd been unable to see it. How he could not have known.

But then he had never been in love before and he simply hadn't understood.

The carriage ride back to the house seemed to take forever. He couldn't wait to tell Violet he loved her. He couldn't wait to see the look on her beautiful face when he said the words. Fighting to stop a tune from whistling past his lips, he leaned back in the seat of the carriage, silently willing Bellows to drive the horses faster. With so much traffic in the street, it wasn't going to happen.

To pass the time, he began to practice what he would say and was amazed to discover how difficult it was to find the right words. They spun round and round in his head and
still kept coming out wrong. He told himself when the time came he would just tell her the way he felt.

He would tell her that he loved her.

Rule just hoped the words still mattered as much to her as they now did to him.

 

Needing to feel the sunshine on her face, Violet slipped outside into the garden. The peonies were in bloom and she knelt to examine a brilliant yellow blossom the same shade as her embroidered muslin gown.

Reaching out, she pulled an errant weed the gardener had missed and tried not to think of Rule and where he might have gone this morning. After last night's misadventures, she had slept later than she meant to and awakened to find him gone. He wasn't in the house, she discovered, and even Hat didn't know where he had gone.

At least he was safe now. The police finally had the right man under arrest and Rule's life was no longer in danger. Violet took comfort in the fact that she had done her part in proving his innocence. She tried to content herself with that and not dwell on the fact that Rule would never really love her.

She ignored a painful little pang in her heart and tugged on another small weed, then came to her feet at the sound of someone moving about in the garden.

“Well, now ain't ye a pretty sight this mornin'.”

Her breath stalled in her throat. She knew that voice, that face.
Simon Pratt.

Her gaze shot to the French doors, but there was no one in sight. “What…what are you doing here?”

“I come fer ye, girl. Ye took me sweeps. I warned ye. I told ye nobody steals from Simon Pratt.”

Her heart raced. Something glinted in the sun and for
the first time she noticed the long curved blade in his bony hand. Violet screamed and bolted for the door, but Pratt was on her before she could make her escape.

“I'd behave myself iffin' I was you. Less ye want a taste of cold steel.”

Violet stood silent and trembling, the wiry, sallow-faced man behind her, a sinewy arm wrapped around her neck, holding her against him. Fear churned through her, made her legs feel weak.

Pratt dragged her a few feet backward along the path leading to the back gate, the way he must have come into the garden. Then he stiffened, his hold tightening as someone walked out through the French doors onto the terrace.

Violet bit back a cry. Rule stood tall and imposing in front of the balustrade, his fierce blue gaze riveted on Pratt.

“Let her go.” The quiet menace in his voice made her shiver.

“Stay where ye are and don't come any closer,” Pratt warned.

Rule's gaze moved to Violet's face and a strange sort of calm settled over her. Rule was there. He wouldn't let Pratt hurt her. Whatever it took, Rule would find a way to keep her safe.

“I said to let her go.”

Pratt's laughter was grating and ghoulish. “She took me sweeps. I been outta work ever since.”

“You were using children, Pratt. You were breaking the law.”

“It were none o' her business.” He waved the knife. “I warned her what would happen. Nobody steals from Simon Pratt.” His hold tightened around Violet's throat. “Call out and she's dead.” Pulling her backward, he edged along the gravel path toward the gate.

Rule followed him step for step, his face a mask of rage. The knife glinted, keeping him at bay.

“What do you want, Pratt?”

The sweep paused. Glancing at his surroundings, he took in the marble fountain, assessed the fine quality of the wrought-iron furniture, the magnificence of the house.

“I come for the woman, since she brung me so much trouble. But ye kin 'ave her if ye pay me price.”

“Name it.”

“Five hundred quid.” He grinned, showing the rotten stubs of his teeth. “She worth that much to ye?”

“She's worth a hundred times that and more.”

Her chest tightened. She loved him so much.

“Ye got the five hundred in the house?”

Rule nodded. “I'll get it if you let the lady go.”

Pratt just laughed. “I ain't a fool. Keep yer mouth shut, get the money and then I'll let 'er go.”

Violet could read Rule's indecision. He didn't want to leave her with Pratt, but she was the only other person besides himself who knew where to find the money.

“I'll be all right,” she said, reading his fear for her.

His jaw clenched. “I'll get your money, Pratt, but if you touch her, you die. I'll follow you to the gates of hell and I'll kill you with my own bare hands.”

Pratt pointed the tip of the knife against Violet's throat and for an instant, she couldn't breathe.

Rule backed up until he reached the terrace steps then turned and disappeared into the house.

The knife twitched in his hand as they stood there silently waiting. There was a safe in the study behind a gilt-framed painting of horses and hounds. Rule had shown her where to find it and given her the combination. A small rosewood box inside held money for her use should she need it.

It seemed only an instant till Rule ran back into the garden, the rosewood box in his hand. “There's a thousand pounds in this box. Take it and be gone.”

The sweep's eyes rounded. “Ye must be bloody in love.”

“I am in love, Pratt.” He turned to Violet, spoke to her directly. “I'm desperately in love with my wife.” He held up the box. “Now let her go before I come over there and beat you bloody senseless.”

Violet started to shiver. It was the cruelest of jests to hear Rule say the words that meant so much to her simply to appease Simon Pratt.

She told herself it didn't matter. That Rule was trying to save her.

Pratt just laughed. “Open the lid. Show me what's inside.”

Rule did as Pratt demanded, then set the rosewood box on the wrought-iron bench. The sweep dragged Violet over to the box and snatched it up. “Stay where ye are. I'll let 'er go when I get ta the gate.”

Rule's hands fisted. As Pratt moved backward, Rule stalked him every inch of the way. When Pratt reached the gate, he shoved Violet forward and she stumbled, gave a little cry of surprise. Rule ran to her, swept her into his arms.

She could feel him shaking, his tall frame trembling as he held her tightly against him.

“Violet…” He glanced behind her, but Pratt had disappeared. Rule didn't seem to care.

“I was so afraid,” he said, his hold tightening even more. “God, I love you so much.”

Her heart squeezed. He buried his face in her hair and she thought that her heart would surely break in two.
He doesn't mean it,
she told herself.
He's only frightened that Pratt might have hurt you.

Her throat ached and her eyes filled with tears. If only it were true.

“I love you, Violet,” he said softly against her cheek, and he sounded so sincere. She forced herself to ask the question that throbbed in her heart.

“Do you mean it?” she whispered, afraid to look at him, afraid she would see the truth.

Rule drew back so that she could see his face. “You would know if I was lying. You would know.”

She swallowed past the lump in her throat. “Yes, I would know.”

“I'm not lying, sweetheart. I love you.”

Tears rolled down her cheeks.

“It took me a while to figure it out, but now I know the truth. I love you more than my own life.”

And then he pulled her back into his arms and she was crying and clinging to him and she could feel Rule's heart beating, feel his love surrounding her.

Something had changed. Maybe it was Pratt's attack. Maybe something else.

Whatever it was, Rule had said he loved her and Violet knew deep in her heart that he was telling the truth.