Scandal (17 page)

Emily opened her mouth to tell her father that her relationship with Simon was far more profound, far more blissfully transcendent than what he apparently imagined. But before she could explain, she was interrupted by Blade himself.

She stared in astonishment as Simon sauntered casually out from behind the tall hedge. Then she brightened. "Excellent, you are returned, my lord. Now, perhaps we can clear up this misunderstanding."

Simon ignored her, his eyes glittering coldly as he studied her father. "I had a hunch you'd show up sooner or later, Faringdon. Come to bid your daughter a fond farewell, have you?"

The earl looked very large and intimidating in his riding clothes. His shoulders were broad and powerful under his close-fitting jacket and his breeches emphasized the sleek muscularity of his body. He slapped his riding crop idly against the top of his gleaming black boots as he eyed Emily's father with disdain.

Broderick Faringdon swung around in alarm, his expression first startled and then angry. "Now, see here, Blade. A man's got a right to say goodbye to his one and only daughter. You certainly did not give me a chance to do so yesterday."

Simon smiled thinly. "I did not want you hanging around any longer than absolutely necessary. But today my sources inform me you spent the night at a nearby inn rather than on the road to town. I was not particularly surprised a few minutes ago when my new butler told me Emily had received a message to go to the south garden. But I am afraid I really cannot allow this sort of clandestine meeting, Faringdon."

Emily laughed with relief. "That is just what I was telling him, Simon. I knew you did not mean to bar him from the house. There is no need to arrange this sort of meeting when we can have a nice visit in the drawing room. But Papa seems to be under the impression you do not want him to ever see me again."

Both men looked at her with as much amazement as if the cherub on the fountain had just spoken.

Simon gazed at her coldly. "It will probably not be possible to avoid your father altogether, especially when we are in town. But you are never, under any circumstances, to meet with him or the twins alone. On those rare occasions when we do find ourselves obliged to see your family, I shall always accompany you. Do you understand that, Emily?"

"But, Simon…" She stared at him, taken aback by the implacable tone of his voice. "Surely, you go too far. There is no harm in my visiting with my own family."

"Damn right," Broderick said quickly, swinging back to confront the earl. "Damn it, we're her family, man."

"Not any longer. Emily has a new family now," Simon said. "And you may rest assured that as her husband, I will look after her and protect her from those who would take advantage of her."

"Damn and blast, Blade," Faringdon sputtered. "You cannot keep the girl a prisoner."

"No?" Simon slapped the riding crop against his boot again. He looked almost amused.

Emily did not like the atmosphere between the two men. It frightened her. She put her hand on her father's coat sleeve. "Papa, please do not argue with Simon today. This is

my honeymoon. I am certain everything will work out. Perhaps it would be best if you left for London now."

"An excellent notion, Faringdon." Simon braced one boot on the edge of the fountain and ran the riding crop through his fingers. He managed to imbue the small, casual gesture with threatening implications. "Best take your leave. The gaming tables of London are waiting for you, are they not? It will be amusing to see how long you can hold on to your memberships in the St. James clubs."

"Damn you." Broderick looked stricken. "Are you threatening to have me thrown out of the clubs?"

"Not at all." Simon flicked a tiny speck of dirt off his breeches. "I could do so, of course. But there is no need to take such extreme measures. You will get yourself thrown out soon enough and so will your sons, when you are no longer able to pay your debts of honor. And when your luck has run out in the respectable clubs, you will be forced into the gaming hells, where your luck will run out even faster, won't it?"

"My God, man," Faringdon breathed, turning pale.

Emily was truly horrified now. It finally dawned on her that the antagonism between Simon and her father was much deeper than she had initially realized. "Simon?" she whispered hesitantly.

"Go back to the house, Emily. I will talk to you later."

"Simon, I would speak with you now."

"Do that, Emily." Broderick crammed his beaver hat more firmly on his head, his blue eyes bright with rage and frustration. "Reason with this monster you have married, if you can. But do not count on being able to soften him toward your family. He hates us all, even the twins, who never did him any harm. And if he hates them, he must also despise you. After all, you're just one more Faringdon."

"Papa, you do not understand."

"One more Faringdon" Broderick repeated savagely. "Consider that well, Emily, when he comes to you in the middle of the night and demands his rights as your husband. Contemplate it as you lay there with him rutting away on you like a stallion covering a mare."

Emily gasped in genuine shock. Her hand flew to her mouth, her eyes widening behind the lenses of her spectacles. No man had ever talked that way in her presence, not even the twins when they teased her.

"Get out of here, Faringdon," Simon said in a dangerously soft voice. He took his booted foot down from the edge of the pool. "Now."

"I wish you joy in the marriage bed, my dearest daughter," Broderick said sarcastically. He turned on his heel and left.

Emily wanted to call out to her father but she seemed to have lost her voice. She just stood there staring mutely after him and then Simon moved. He came to stand directly in front of her, blocking her view of her father's retreating back. His eyes were terrifyingly emotionless.

"Oh, Simon, he does not understand," Emily said softly.

"I would not be too certain of that." Simon took her arm and guided her back toward the house. "I believe he is finally beginning to understand very well, indeed."

"But he does not realize that our relationship is entirely different from what he imagines." She slanted a beseeching glance up at her husband's impassive profile. Silently she urged him to agree with her. "He is concerned for me because he does not know about our special form of union. He has not studied metaphysical matters."

"That I can well believe. The only thing your father has ever studied is a hand of cards. Emily, I think I should make it very clear to you that I meant what I said a few minutes ago. You are not ever to be alone with your father or your brothers. I am to be with you whenever you see them and those occasions will be kept to the minimum. Nor are you to send any further instructions to Davenport concerning their financial arrangements."

"Simon, I know you wanted revenge against my father, but surely you are satisfied with having regained St. Clair Hall. I know you threatened my father that you would not let him have access to me but surely you did not mean to carry out that threat. Not if you got the house."

"What makes you think I should be satisfied with having the house back? Your father sold off all the family lands. Nothing can replace the properties that were lost. And nothing can make up for the fact that my father put a bullet through his brain because of what your father did to him. Nothing can make up for the fact that my mother went into a decline and died because of your father's actions. Nothing can make up for the fact that your father destroyed my family."

Emily was stunned by the depth of rage and bitterness in Simon's voice. He had never before revealed such intense emotion. For the first time she began to realize Simon's feelings toward her family went far beyond a simple demand for justice.

"I understand and I am truly sorry," Emily said quickly. "You must know that. But it all happened a long time ago. It concerns our parents, not us. It was the work of an earlier generation. Now that you have St. Clair Hall back, you must let go of the past. It will only continue to torment you if you do not. Simon, you must look to the future."

"Really? And what, precisely, do you propose I contemplate when I gaze upon the future?" Simon asked dryly.

Emily took a deep breath. "Well, there is the matter of our relationship, my lord," she suggested tentatively. "As you pointed out last night, it has been considerably enhanced and deepened now by our physical union. We share something very special. Surely you will want to let go of the sadness of the past and concentrate instead on the joys of our greatly expanded methods of communication."

He looked down at her, brows arched in icy amusement. "Are you suggesting that I forgo the remainder of my vengeance against your family in favor of the joys of the marriage bed?"

Emily was increasingly uncertain of Simon's odd mood. A deep foreboding swept over her as she peered up at him through her spectacles. He looked very dangerous suddenly; a dragon had invaded the south garden, a dragon looking for prey.

"Last night," Emily said slowly, "you said that for us the pleasures of the marriage bed would be unique. You told me they would be connected to the pure and noble passions of the metaphysical realm. That our union took place on the transcendental plane as well as on the physical plane. Surely that sort of relationship is very special and should be nurtured and cherished, my lord?"

Anger crackled in Simon's golden eyes. "For God's sake, Emily, even you cannot be that naive. What took place between us last night had nothing whatsoever to do with any damn transcendental plane. It was a matter of simple lust."

"Simon, you cannot mean that. You yourself explained about the connection between the physical and the metaphysical realms." She blushed but did not lower her gaze. She knew she was fighting for something very important now. "Our passions are transcendent in nature. Remember how you described the way our lovemaking in the physical world was bound to enhance our communication in the metaphysical realm?"

"Emily, you are an intelligent woman in many respects…"

She smiled tremulously. "Why, thank you, Simon."

"But at times you talk like a complete twit. I went through all that nonsense about the mystical connection between the physical and the metaphysical realms purely to ease your maidenly fears of the marriage bed. Perfectly normal fears, I might add, given your lack of experience."

"I was not afraid of your lovemaking, my lord. And I am not without some experience, if you will recall."

"Of course you were anxious," he snapped. "It was very obvious. Unanxious brides do not leave notes for their bridegrooms. They are waiting in bed where they are supposed to be. And as for your much-vaunted experience, my dear, it is a joke. You are hardly a woman of the world. If you had really had any notion of relations between men and women, you would have been waiting for me in your bed last night, not scribbling in your journal."

"But, Simon, I explained I was concerned for you. I did not want you to feel obligated in any way to perform your duties."

Simon slashed the riding crop through the air and severed the blooms from two daffodils. "Hell and damnation, woman. You were anxious about the unknown and in your anxiety you invented all that ridiculous, high-minded nonsense about not wanting to impose on me. The plain truth; Emily, is that you needed to be reassured and I told you what you wanted to hear."

She bit her lip. "So you lied to me about wanting to enhance our unique metaphysical communication?"

"Emily, I did what I had to do in order to calm your bridal fears. We got the business over and done in a reasonable fashion and there is now no chance of an annulment."

"That is all you cared about? Making certain there would be no grounds for an annulment this morning?" she asked softly. "You did not feel that last night we were both cast adrift on love's transcendent golden shore?"

"Bloody hell. For God's sake, woman, will you cease prattling on about romance and metaphysics? I have had enough of your romantical nonsense. This is a marriage, not a verse from an epic poem. It is time you faced reality. You are no longer a Faringdon. You are now my wife. We shall manage to deal comfortably with each other if you keep that fact uppermost in your mind at all times."

"I am hardly likely to forget it, Simon."

"See that you don't," he said, his golden eyes blazing. "Emily, it is time you understood that I require one thing above all else from you."

"You require my love?" A spark of foolish hope still burned within her, Emily realized with chagrin.

"No, Emily," Simon said brutally. "What I require from you—what I will have from you at all costs—is your complete and unwavering loyalty. You are now the Countess of Blade. You are a Traherne. You are no longer a Faringdon. Is that entirely clear?"

The last, tiny flicker of hope died. "You make yourself very clear, my lord."

Emily turned away from the man she loved with all her heart and walked alone toward the big house. She resisted the urge to glance back over her shoulder as she slipped

through the door. Tears burned in her eyes as she hurried upstairs to her bedchamber.

She would have to leave, of course. Her dreams and hopes had all been shattered. She could not possibly stay here as Simon's wife. To do so would make a mockery of all her pure and noble passions.