“Well, you’ve certainly depressed mine.” She pulled away from him, rose, beautifully naked, only he didn’t notice, since his eyes were focused on her neck, how his hands would fit nicely around her neck, and squeeze. He felt the heavy burn of anger in his throat. “I told you part of me was dead, that I wasn’t whole, that trust had been burned out of me and that’s why I didn’t want to marry, that-”

“Oh yes, you did,” she said, as she pulled on her dressing gown. “It is all very sad. Just imagine-being part dead. Yes, that is indeed sad.” She sighed. “Look at the guilt I shall have to carry around now.”

“Guilt? You? You don’t have any guilt, you were a girl at the time this happened.”

“Oh yes, I do. Don’t you remember? I jumped on your poor dead innocent self. I was very ready to plunge my fingers down the front of your britches-my father was right about that. Attacking you like I did, I sealed your doom. Poor Jason. In addition to all that soul-shattering pain that haunts you, you were forced to take a wife, namely me, the very last thing you wanted. Having a wife must seem to you like the final instrument of torture-the iron maiden-sorry, just a little joke. Poor Jason, trapped now with both the memory of failure and blame-and a wife. Do you think that long-dead evil Judith is hanging about as a spirit, rubbing her hands together because she knows she still controls your life? That would please the damnable bitch, don’t you think? Hmm. I wonder if her spirit ever believes she won. Would you like some warm milk?”

He jumped out of bed, so angry he was nearly rabid with it, so angry he wanted that neck of hers between his big hands, now. He shook his fist at her, yelled at the top of his lungs, “Don’t you try to act all superior and smart with me, Hallie. Don’t you bring up Judith’s smarmy spirit to make me feel ridiculous. Damn you, don’t you dare try to jolly me out of this!”

She saw the pounding pulse in his throat, then stared at his groin. “No, of course not. Sometimes words pop out of my mouth, you know that. I know there’s no way I can make you face up to what happened five years ago. It would be like prying the shingles off a roof with your fingernails. Aren’t you chilly, Jason? Should you like me to give you your dressing gown? I believe it’s over here on the floor, where you threw it about fifteen minutes ago. Ah, but I enjoy looking at you so very much, perhaps-”

He picked up his own dressing gown and shrugged it on. “Damn you, stop staring at me.”

CHAPTER 38

“Why? You have incredible stretches of self that quite delight me. Whenever you have me out of my clothes, you’re either looking at my breasts or at my belly or my legs, or talking about kissing me behind my knees. It’s like you can’t make up your mind.

“Not that it’s any easier with you. Well, I always know where to begin, but then there’s your chest, I can’t forget about your chest, but then, your legs-goodness, I love your legs too. I guess the truth of the matter is every time I look at any part of you-even the dead parts-I feel all sorts of delicious little tingles. Would you like some warm milk now?”

“I don’t want any damned milk. I want a brandy.”

“Hmm. My father would be pleased. Perhaps I’d like a brandy too. Jason?”

“What, dammit?”

“You really don’t like the chair at the end of the bed? Perhaps with enough practice, our clothing would end up on the chair rather than on the floor.”

She was callous and not at all solicitous of him, despite all her bleating to the contrary. He kicked the chair, cursed because it felt like he’d broken one of his toes, and slammed out of the bedchamber. He wished at that moment that Angela was still here. He’d take her a snifter of brandy, pull up a chair beside her bed, and tell her about how he was going to strangle his wife. Then he’d go take care of Lord Grimsby, but Lord Grimsby was a distant second to his crass, unfeeling wife. But Angela had moved to the Dower House three days before, Hollis supervising the four foot-men. He and Hallie were alone in this big house. He’d never believed it was too big before, but he did now. If he strangled her, it would seem even bigger. The entire house would be his. He could do just as he pleased whenever he pleased. Damnation.

Perhaps he’d wake up Petrie, tell him about this bloody uncaring wife of his, listen to him add his own list of female failings to Jason’s list. How long would that last? Knowing Petrie, possibly a week. Besides, with his luck, Martha would overhear, rush in, and smack them both in the head.

“Yoo hoo, Jason! The house is very cold, don’t you think? Can one heat brandy?”

He turned to face his wife, all smiles, trotting toward him down the corridor. She grinned up at him, took his arm. “The house seems too empty without Angela. What do you think is happening at the Dower House?”

“Hopefully they’re sleeping,” he said in a prissy voice.

“Oh dear, this is all my own fault. If only I’d not asked you all those soul-wrenching questions that ended up with you walking out on me, why, right now I’d be lying in the middle of the bed, a silly grin on my face, with you sweating beside me, maybe singing a duet.”

“Be quiet, Hallie.”

She began whistling.

He wished he could whistle as well as she. “Whistle that ditty about the drunken sailors.”

She did. She grabbed his hand and began swinging her arm in march time. When she came to the end of the ditty, she said, “I don’t suppose you’ll want to make love to me on the kitchen table, will you? I could arrange myself, perhaps even lift the corner of my gown so as to focus your lovely eyes-”

“Shut your mouth. You have the feelings of a damned gnat.”

It was meaty, that insult. She went on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. He felt her hand low on his belly through the velvet of his dressing gown, pressing in, touching him. His breath hitched at the quick punch of lust. “Truly? A damned gnat?”

“Get your hand off me, Hallie. I am not in the mood.”

Her fingers stilled, but she didn’t move her hand. “It came to my attention during our ever-so-pleasant stay on the Isle of Wight that men were always in the mood. Ah, Jason?”

“What?”

“Why are you so angry with me?”

He realized they’d been standing at the top of the stairs for the last three minutes. It was dark, but there was a swatch of moonlight coming through the front windows. He opened his mouth, shut it, said, “You refuse to acknowledge the god-awful mess I made, you refuse to understand the devastating shadow I cast on so many lives.”

“It certainly appears to be a very long-lasting shadow.”

“Dammit, Hallie, because of me, my family nearly died! Stop mocking me, you’re not treating what happened with the seriousness it deserves.”

“No, I suppose not. Had I been there, been your wife, it’s possible I would have coddled you and reassured you for a full six months. Then I would have gotten tired of your ridiculous guilty drivel. And I would wonder why you couldn’t see that you survived and those evil people didn’t. Yes, I would have reached the end of my tether of your attachment to a past that would be forgotten if not for your dreary vow to suffer for the rest of your life.

“Hmm. I’ve heard of sack cloth, it’s spoken of in the Bible. I wonder if one can still purchase sack cloth. Ashes, now, that would be no problem. Wouldn’t you look a treat in sack cloth, all dirtied up?”

He growled at her, actually growled he was so angry. He left her at the top of the stairs and headed down. He nearly tripped at the shock of the gloomy voice that came from the thick shadows near the drawing room. “Master Jason? Is that you, sir? Oh dear, what is wrong? I heard voices, arguing voices, mainly that of your new wife.

“Ah, I knew it was a mistake, you’re such a fair man and she took full advantage of you. You had to marry her and now she’s forcing you to argue.”