Page 81 of The Rebellious Lady and the Phantom Lord
“Would you?” .He laughed savagely. “I won’t put your faith in me to such a strain.” He advanced upon her, his fine-chiseled features twisting into a sneer. “That is exactly who I am, my dear. Old Lethe, the legendary murderer of Blackheath Hall. A walking corpse with bloodstained hands. I wonder you dare to be down here alone with me.”
With each step he took, Phaedra stumbled backward until she was pinned against the cold, rough stone of the wall.
“Except that you don’t dare, do you?” he bit out. “You’ve been waiting for your chance to escape up those stairs, terrified that I mean to throttle you at any moment.”
She shook her head, her breath coming out in a frightened sob.
“Damn you, Phaedra. It is you who are killing me.” He yanked her into his arms, trapping her ruthlessly against the hardness of his body so that she could scarcely breathe or cry out. The shepherdess, still clutched in her hand, all but broke apart between her gripping fingers as she struggled to be free.
James pressed hot, savage kisses along the column of her throat, his words choked with the embittered fury of despair. “How oft have I held you in my arms, loved you in a way I never have loved any other, and still you could think that I would?—”
Scarcely thinking what she did, Phaedra drove her foot hard against his instep. In that brief second he relaxed his grip enough for her to claw her way out of his arms. Tears streaming down her cheeks, she backed away toward the stairs.
“Phaedra!” He raged her name, sending it echoing off the rafters. He stretched his hand toward her in a gesture that was half a demand, half a plea.
Looking into his tormented eyes, she could see how her fears tore him apart, and she hated herself. She sensed that he wasdeliberately seeking to terrorize her-daring her, begging her, to fight back, to do anything but shrink from him.
But she could not give him the reassurance he sought with such desperation. Instead of her hand, she placed the shepherdess in his open palm. “Please, Armande ... James. Let me go. Tomorrow when it is light, we can?—”
She broke off, flinching away from him as he uttered a vicious oath and hurled the figurine against the opposite wall. The sound of the delicate china shattering into a myriad of pieces destroyed what remained of Phaedra’s control.
She spun about and hurled herself up the darkness of the stairs, stumbling on the hem of her gown, nearly pitching forward onto her face. She expected at any moment to feel James’s hands close upon her, dragging her back.
She was halfway up the long, curving stair before she realized he was not coming after her. She slowed, taking one more uncertain step. The hall had resumed its unnatural silence, the only sound her ragged breathing.
Phaedra turned, risking one glance back at the chamber below her. By the spot where the figurine had shattered, James stood frozen, a lonely silhouette in the soft glow pooling from the lamp. She watched the last vestiges of anger drain from him. His hands balled into fists, and he buried his eyes against them, sinking down until he knelt amidst the glistening fragments of china.
Phaedra’s fear vanished, a dull ache settling over her heart. Cursing herself for a fool, she rushed back down the stairs and crossed the hall to his side. His powerful frame was wracked with such tremors that she hesitated to touch him. Such grief in a man of James’s iron control seemed too private a thing to be witnessed even by her eyes.
She caressed his bowed head, her fingers snagging in the strands of dark hair. She felt him stiffen, then he lowered hishands, to look up at her. He wrapped his arms about her waist, burying his face in the softness beneath her breasts. Phaedra clasped her hands behind his neck, her tears glistening upon his hair as she kissed the top of his head. She held him thus for a long time, offering him wordless comfort. When at last she could speak, the only words she could utter were “I’m sorry.” How foolish, how inadequate, that sounded in the face of all that he had suffered.
He pulled away from her. Resting one hand heavily upon her shoulder, he struggled to his feet, gathering his strength and pride as he rose.
“It is I who should apologize to you,” he said. “You have now seen the worst of James Lethington’s infamous temper. A condition I thought I had cured in myself long ago.”
Although he brushed aside the last traces of her tears, his eyes clouded with bitterness. “When I was young ...” He spoke as though that had been many, many ages ago. “I was nearly consumed with ambition. I was going to make my mark upon the world, leave behind a name to echo through time.”
He laughed softly, the sound lacking in all mirth. “Little did I realize the name of James Lethington would be used to terrify little girls.”
His fingers trailed along her skin, tracing the curve of her cheek, his gaze softened with tenderness. She caught his hand and pressed her lips against the warm hollow of his palm.
“This particular little girl is a fool,” she whispered. “Can you ever forgive me?” She tried to find the words to explain to him, that even loving him as she did, she could still be afraid. “It is only that I felt so stunned. In all my wildest imaginings about your past, I never thought that-that?—”
“The dead could return to walk the earth?” He meant the words to sound mocking, but his voice cracked.
“My feelings for Ewan betrayed me once, made me a victim,” she continued. “But what I felt for him was mere infatuation, not one particle of the love I bear for you. I have never been so vulnerable in my life as I have been with you. I think that is, more than anything, why I was so terrified of you. You have always been so strong, so self-contained. I daresay you do not understand what it is to be afraid.”
“Aye, but I do. There is one fear that is my constant torment. The dread of losing you.”
He gathered her up in his arms, straining her close. “Phaedra,” he murmured against her hair. “I should have told you the truth long ago, but that fear kept me silent. I was terrified that once you had heard my real name, once you knew I was a condemned murderer, that you would flee from me in horror. Is it too late for me to explain? Will you listen to me now?”
Before she had the chance to assent, they were both startled by the creak of a door, the sound of a footfall behind them. They drew quickly apart. Phaedra turned as the footman Peter straggled belatedly into the hall, bearing a candlestick in his upraised hand. Although he appeared somewhat surprised to see Phaedra and her houseguest standing alone in the dimly lit chamber, the young man appeared far more anxious to cover up his own dereliction of duty. His features flushed as he sought furtively to redo the uppermost button of his breeches.
“Lady Phaedra. My lord,” he stammered. “I am sorry. I was away from my post for but a moment. Then I thought I heard a noise.”
“I dropped a piece of china.” James’s voice was wooden as he described the destruction of a most cherished treasure. Whatever self-reproach he felt, he concealed it beneath a gruff command to Peter to see that the fragments were swept away.He took the candlestick from the footman, saying, “I will see her ladyship safely upstairs.”
Leaving the abashed footman still trying to offer excuses for his absence, Phaedra followed James silently up the stairs. At the second-floor landing, he turned to her, saying, “You never gave me your answer, my lady. May the accused be permitted to speak in his own defense?”
