Ears perked, Devil eyed him, then nickered and went back to picking grass. "I ken you think I'm daft," he muttered to the horse. Aye, he was. Because of Calla.
Damnation, she had gored the hell out of his heart yesterday.
He hadn't even known he could feel love. And then, she'd said she loved him, too. But how could that be true if she wouldn't even tell him he had a son?
She had used him, pure and simple, in the most basic way possible. Not for mutual pleasure, but to steal his seed and have a child to give to her bastard of an impotent husband.
When he thought of Jamie, his face a wee replica ofRebbie'sown, he could hardly endure it. He'd never imagined what it might be like to have a son, but now that he was faced with that fact, had talked to the lad, 'twas a shock to realize he loved the lad already. No questions asked. Blood of his blood. He loved him, wanted to tell the world, this is my son!
But nay, he could never do that. To do so would label the lad a bastard and he would lose his status despite being an earl's son. He could never inherit the Rebbinglen title, nor any of the other titles he or his father held.
Rebbie couldn't expose him. Nor could he do it to Calla.
He remembered what she'd said, that whoreson Stanbury had threatened to toss her out the high window if she didn't provide him an heir. If the man were alive, Rebbie would call him out to a duel and kill him.
Calla was an angel… or a demon. He wasn't sure which. When he imagined her face, his chest ached. He couldn't even breathe. What had she done to him? Bewitched him. He'd fallen for her hard, even from that first night he'd tasted her lips.
He wanted to crush her to him, even should she decide to stab him in the back at the same time. She drove him mad with the need to have her. When her silvery-gray eyes darkened, begging him without words, he could not deny her. In those moments, he yearned to devour her, starting with her delectable mouth and moving down her curvy body.
Despite the lust which consumed him anytime he saw her, there was so much more. The way she'd kissed and cuddled Jamie… 'twas obvious she would do anything for the lad and that she loved him beyond anything.
She'd done an excellent job with him. Clearly, she was a good mother who'd been much involved in raising the lad. Not like some aristocratic ladies who put the total care of their children into the hands of servants.
And a more beautiful woman he had never seen. He could stare at her for a lifetime and never grow tired of the view.
Almost seven years ago, after their night of passion, he'd searched for her. Why? Something about her was unforgettable. She was stuck in his head for weeks or months afterward. He'd had to give in and force himself to forget about her. Well, not fully forget. He had dreamed of her a few times over the years. He'd wake and wonder what town she might be in, who she was. But he'd finally accepted he would never see her again.
Now, she needed protection and he wanted to provide it, despite her deceptions. Her betrayal still smarted and burned. He understood why she'd done it—to save herself. He was glad he'd been able to keep her safe from her rotten husband by getting her with child.
He could even halfway understand why she hadn't told him about Jamie being his son. She wanted to guard his future at all costs. What with the wayRebbie'sfather had glared at her, she'd feared the worst from him if he'd learned her secret. Certainly, his father could ruin both her and Jamie if he chose to, but Rebbie didn't think he would. Within the last few days, he'd seemed to accept that Rebbie wasn't giving up Calla, and he'd shown Rebbie his support as never before.
Once Rebbie paid offStanbury'sdebt, and made certain Claybourne stopped his pursuit of her…. Rebbie shook his head. What then?
Did he want to marry her? Could he trust her? The very thought of marriage near made his heart leap from his chest. What if he made a mistake? What if she wasn't the one?
Och, but everything in him said she was. She was under his skin… in his head. The nights they'd spent together were some of the best of his life. He'd savored them as slices of heaven. She had smiled, laughed, cried out in pleasure and completely spellbound him. The taste of her lips, the scent of her skin—he craved it so intensely, he ached.
'Twastime to go back and hash things out. After saddling Devil, he mounted and rode south.
***
The hired coach delivered Calla to the entry ofBonnyridge, a new and very grand manor house. How she hated the depraved bastard who owned it. He was the complete opposite of the lovely, peaceful gardens surrounding the house.
Her stomach paining with anxiety, she stepped down from the coach. The driver placed her small trunk on the ground near the door then drove off. Two guards in matching black livery stood outside the door. They bowed and murmured, "Lady Stanbury," as if expecting her. Feeling like a mouse about to step into the jaws of a cat, she frowned.
One of them lifted the ornate knocker and let it fall while the other hefted her trunk onto his shoulder. Seconds later, an austerely dressed manservant opened the door.
"My lady, please come in. Laird Claybourne is expecting you."
She did as he asked. After he bowed, his disapproving gaze slid down her body and back up. He sniffed. "Wait here, if you please."
The guard deposited her trunk near the stairway, then hastened out the door and closed it behind him.
Oh dear God, please help me survive this, she prayed.
The chilly and elegant three story entry hall made her feel ill. Her late husband's money had paid for part of this. She was now a pauper because ofClaybourne'sgreed andStanbury'signorance. Even the property Calla's mother had left her was now a part ofClaybourne'scollection of treasures, but she intended to get it back.
Her stomach growled and she realized she hadn't eaten since breakfast early that morn atDraughon.'Twasprobably for the best, given how queasy her stomach was with nerves.
