Page 46 of This Laird of Mine

“I don’t know. All I know is . . .” Pain tore through Claire. She wanted to heap explanations and apologies on him, to make him understand why, but she knew it wouldn’t help. “They forced me to marry you, to come here.”

He watched her closely, his face a hardened mask.

She swallowed roughly and continued. “They wanted me to make you fall in love with me, then to leave abruptly.”

He went so still it was frightening.

“Say something, please.”

He stared at her, his face pale. “You used me?”

Claire flinched at the word. “Yes, I won’t deny it, but it was only because of the girls.”

She had hurt him. More than she realized she would. She wanted to tell him she was sorry, but the words were little and useless in the face of reality. So she stood there, staring at him, waiting.

“Christ, I feel like a puppet,” he said closing his eyes.

“I had no choice,” she said hoarsely.

His eyes opened to reveal his anger. The heat of his gaze forced her to step back. “Who gave you the right to manipulate me, my friends, everyone who came here last night to celebrate our union?”

“I didn’t only take, Jules. I gave you myself in return. I gave you what you wanted—a wife.”

He laughed. The sound stark, cold. “That’s right. You gave me your body. I would say it wasn’t a fair trade, Claire. I lost even more than I already had on that bargain.”

The words cut deep. She deserved his anger and his bitterness. She turned. “I need to find Penelope. She has to be here somewhere.”

“Now who is running away?” Jules reached for her, clamping her shoulder. He turned her around. “Let’s finish this.”

“No.” She took a step back, out of his reach. “We do not have to pretend any longer. And I refuse to hurt you any more than I already have.”

“Claire—” His contemptuous gaze raked her. “If that is your real name . . .”

“It is. That was no lie.”

“Why?” She could hear the rawness in his voice, the need to understand.

Tears glittered on her eyelashes, threatening to spill over onto her cheeks. “I love you, Jules. That wasn’t supposed to happen, but it did. I fell in love with you, everything about you. And for a moment I considered sacrificing the lives of the girls to continue our life together. But I couldn’t do it. I could not sacrifice the lives of others to maintain the happiness I felt in your arms.” She paused as tears fell onto her cheeks. She forced the words she had to say past the tightness in her throat. “Last night was a gift I will treasure forever.”

“Last night was a mistake.”

She flinched at the hatred in the voice she loved and drew a sharp breath. “I will always think otherwise. Now, I must go find Penelope, Anna, and Eloise before it is too late.” Claire turned away only to see David at the end of the hall. How much of their conversation had he heard?

“If you are looking for Penelope,” he said, “she is in this chamber.”

“Alive?” she asked, her heart hammering wildly.

David nodded and motioned toward the door. “The physician has been to see her. He had no choice but to cauterize her finger to stop the loss of blood.”

The smell of blood and burnt flesh reached out to her even before she entered the chamber. Claire swayed at the thought of losing a finger. Penelope had to be devastated by its loss—a loss that was all Claire’s fault. If she had only done as she had been instructed . . .

Claire forced the thought away. There would be time enough for guilt later. Penelope was alive, and where there was life, there was hope.

Striding through the doorway, Claire crossed the room, then sat on the bed next to her young charge. The flickering candlelight revealed Penelope, asleep. Her face was calm, her body at ease.

Behind her, she sensed Jules had entered the room, but she did not turn to confirm the sensation. “Laudanum?” she asked David.

He nodded.