The anger she’d felt over Jonas’s indifference toward Roberta stirred anew. She surged to her feet and glared at him. “I would have thought you’d be the last person to crow over another man’s illegitimacy.”
He shrugged without rising. “Perhaps I appreciate having such exalted company on my dunghill.”
“That’s horrible. And mean-spirited.”
“You sound disappointed, bella.” His tone was snide.
She blinked away tears. She knew it wasn’t the right time to challenge him. Whatever his feelings about his old schoolfellow—she still couldn’t decide whether they were cohorts or opponents—the duke’s visit had left Merrick in a prickly humor. “I thought you were a better man.”
He laughed without amusement. “I told you I have no scruples. Dark deeds built my empire, tesoro. If the dark deeds harmed my cousin’s prospects at the same time, all the better.”
“I’m sure it can’t be helped,” she said sarcastically.
“Ah.” He surveyed her out of unreadable steel gray eyes. “So that’s what’s got you all het up.”
“I can probably blame you for each of Roberta’s bruises,” she said, not trying to spare his feelings. “The mention of your name turns William into a maddened bull.”
If Merrick were a cat, his tail would lash in warning. “Do you hope for some expression of regret?”
She should step away and wait until they were both calmer. But some imp pushed her to needle him. “I’d like a return of the sister I remember, not the wreck she’s become after eight years as William?
??s wife.”
He sighed and turned to stare out the windows at the encroaching night. His tone became less confrontational. “If it’s any consolation, I suspect William would have beaten his wife, whether I’d existed as a thorn in his side or not. He’s a born bully. Even before he officially became the Hillbrook heir, he was cruel to animals and smaller children. My father banned him from the house before he was seven for torturing a tenant’s son with a branding iron.”
Sidonie was angry enough to ask the question that had troubled her since her first night at Castle Craven. “How did you get your scars, Jonas?”
He glanced back at her, his features a mask of inscrutability. “The results of a misspent youth. I was attacked before I knew how to defend myself from those seeking my destruction. I’ve learned better since.”
And those defenses were well and truly raised against her right now; she knew without him having to tell her. It must be as she suspected. He’d been scarred somewhere on the Continent when he traveled with his father. “Is that all you have to say?”
His stern expression didn’t ease. “Yes, I think it is.”
She marched toward the door with a dismissive flick of her skirts. “Then I can only echo His Grace’s sentiments. May you and your secrets go to the devil.”
The beautiful, mobile lips twitched as he stepped forward to open the door for her. “I’ve been the devil’s minion for years, carissima. Never deceive yourself on that count.”
Chapter Ten
Sidonie’s eyelids drooped with weariness by the time Merrick joined her upstairs. It was past midnight, and she still wore the blue dress she’d put on earlier. She sat up in one of the gilded chairs by the blazing fire, determined to stay awake. Never again would he catch her unawares as he had last night. She’d wanted to stay angry with him after the way he’d rebuffed her in the library but he’d been such an urbane companion over dinner, her barbs had found no purchase against his smooth facade. It was difficult to keep sniping at someone who returned no reaction to one’s resentment.
Ostensibly she’d been reading for hours, but emotional turmoil scattered concentration. So much had happened today, her mind buzzed with questions and anxiety. Kisses, deepening attraction, confessions, the duke’s visit, William’s threats. And uncertainty about what would happen tonight. How could the rather insipid Edward Waverley hold her attention when fascinating Jonas Merrick might arrive any moment to share her bed?
After leaving the dining room, she’d made a halfhearted attempt to find somewhere else to sleep. But Merrick hadn’t exaggerated when he’d described most of the castle as uninhabitable. Since their picnic, the Turkish bower had been cleared of furniture and there was no fire in the dressing room with its much-maligned cot. Even so, she’d briefly considered taking some blankets from the bedroom and sleeping there, until she realized it was the first place Merrick would seek her. Hiding only put off the inevitable. And she’d promised to remain available to him, curse him.
She heard the door snick open. Nerves jumping like grasshoppers, she raised her head from the book she wasn’t reading. In his red robe, Merrick looked the soul of decadence. One hand curled around a half-full decanter of brandy and two crystal glasses dangled from the other. As he stepped into the room, the ruby ring flashed in the candlelight.
Insidious attraction rippled through her and her nipples tightened against her silky shift. “I hope you’re not naked under that,” she said before she could remind herself that his state of undress wasn’t the wisest choice of topic.
The erratic humor that always caught at her heart lit his face to brilliance. As he smiled, his white teeth were startling against his dark features. For a breathtaking interval, she didn’t see the scarring; she just saw a dazzlingly handsome man.
“Miss Forsythe, again you put me to the blush.”
She prayed he didn’t guess how her body hummed with awareness. She was appallingly vulnerable to him, especially at times like this when he wasn’t acting the rake but was purely his provoking, intriguing self.
“I don’t want you sleeping here.” With effort she kept her voice even, although her hands were unsteady as she shut the morocco-bound volume and placed it on the mahogany table at her elbow.
Merrick wandered across the room with a casual air she knew to mistrust. He set the glasses on the dressing table and filled them. “Don’t you?” he asked idly, approaching to pass her a brandy.