Page 58 of Redemption

Her tread soft and barely detectable, Rhea moved to the side of the bed and leaned over Percy intent on brushing his brow with a kiss. She froze just before her lips caressed his skin. Her touch might wake him, and she knew she had no defenses left to say no to him if he awoke. It was best to leave now while he was asleep. With one last glance over her shoulder, she memorized his beautiful male figure sprawled across the bed. It was a memory she would carry for the rest of her life. The moment she experienced the desire to run back to his arms, she brutally crushed the urge, determined not to ignore common sense. Despite her resolve, a voice inside her head whispered that pragmatism was a cold bedfellow. She ignored the thought and left the bedroom.

It wasn’t until she was standing on the front stoop of Percy’s home that she realized she had no way back to Sherrington House other than her own two feet. Trepidation spiraled through her at the thought of walking home at such a late hour. The feeling lasted for only seconds before she remembered how she’d lived for the past seven years. It startled her that she’d forgotten her past if even for a few brief moments. Was it possible Percy had done that for her? The thought made her bite down on her lip. Percy had always treated her as a lady, and had consistently indicated her past was of no consequence. But she knew better. She was who she was. It was laughable to think she could go back to being the girl she’d been before her father had sold her and Arianna to Ruckley. It was why she could make her way home without help. Despite Percy’s misgivings, she was more than capable of taking care of herself. Her life under Ruckley’s thumb had taught her how to survive. Fear was a means of defense. It sharpened the senses. It gave one the means to do what others would not. Fear no longer her enemy, she headed in the direction of Sherrington House.

§ § §

The muted sound of early morning street traffic filtered its way into Percy’s bedroom. His bedroom was still fairly dark, and when he didn’t feel the warmth of Rhea’s sweet curves burrowed into his side, he sleepily reached out for her. When his hand touched nothing but rumpled sheets, he jerked awake. Quickly sitting up, he stared at the empty spot where Rhea had slept last night. The sudden thought it might have been a dream made him close his eyes for a split second.

Certain he’d not imagined things, he stared at the spot where Rhea had slept and frowned. She’d left without saying goodbye, and his gut twisted. He’d compromised her in the worst possible way. Even if she had been eager to share his bed, he’d ignored the consequences she would face if someone saw her leaving his house in the middle of the night. He’d also broken his word again. He’d allowed desire to override his good judgement.

Memories of the night before filled Percy’s head. The way she’d responded to his caresses convinced him that he was the only man who’d ever pleasured her the way he had. He closed his eyes for a brief moment as he relived the pleasure of her riding him with abandon. The passion he’d experienced with her had touched something deep inside him. Now all he had to do was persuade Rhea to marry him. The unexpected thought made him stiffen. When had he decided to take a wife? If he were honest with himself, he’d decided from that first kiss in the gazebo at Melton Park. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he’d known even then that she belonged with him—that they belonged together. In fact, the idea of waking up with her in his bed every morning filled him with anticipation.

Unfortunately, it would be difficult to make Rhea understand that marriage to him wouldn’t make her a possession, but a partner. For years she’d been under Ruckley’s control. Percy had no doubt her experience with that bastard would make her view marriage as a sort of prison. Then there was the issue of how she viewed herself.

Percy remembered how she’d referred to herself as a whore. That moment had emphasized her vulnerability and the horrors of her past. Intuition told him she might easily view herself unworthy of him given her past. Percy had no idea how he’d be able to convince her a future with him would be a happy one. And he was certain it would be good between them.

It wasn’t until now that he’d actually considered the attributes he wanted in a wife, but the word that came to mind now was partner. He wanted a wife he could share things with as one would a good friend. Someone he could turn to in times of difficulties—a lover to hold and caress. In a word, he wanted Rhea. They could be all that to one another. He had no illusions as to it being a love match.

Laughter reverberated in his head at how easily he dismissed the idea of love. The laughter was followed by a mocking voice murmuring he was a fool to think he didn’t want Rhea’s love. Percy ignored his inner voice as the memory of his vision came back to haunt him. While the images were still jumbled in his head, the core theme was the growing danger Ruckley posed to Rhea. It made him uneasy about the rescue Ashford had arranged this evening, particularly when he knew Rhea would never agree to stay away.

He could tell her about his vision, but he had no doubt she would dismiss the images as either him worrying needlessly or perhaps even a ruse to keep her from being there this evening. It all came down to the fact he had to be all the more vigilant where Rhea was concerned. Eager to see her, Percy rang for Jenkins. He wanted to visit Sherrington House as quickly as possible.

Almost two hours later, Percy entered his club feeling more irritable than he had in a long time. He’d arrived at Sherrington House ready to convince Rhea to marry him. Upon his arrival, he’d been informed she wasn’t at home. From there he’d gone to her aunt’s house only to be told Rhea wasn’t there either. All the more frustrating was the fact that no one knew where she’d gone.

Intent on venting his anger in a sparring session, Percy made his way to the boxing ring in the gymnasium. To his surprise, he saw his friend Blake boxing with a partner who was losing badly. Percy moved to the sidelines into his friend’s line of sight, and the viscount quickly ended his sparring match to join Percy on the edge of the boxing mat.

“Percy, it’s good to see you,” Blake said quietly. Tension had tightened the viscount’s mouth to a thin line giving him an austere look. “I don’t know how we’ve managed to keep missing each other these last few months.”

“I would imagine between your duties in Parliament, your new wife, and my own affairs in the country and here in town it’s quite understandable why we’ve not seen each other.” Percy smiled at him. “So I’d like to offer my congratulations on your recent nuptials. I regret I was unable to attend the wedding.”

An odd look crossed the viscount’s face as he acknowledged Percy’s words with an abrupt nod. Almost as if he were eager to change the direction of their conversation, Blake jerked his head in the direction of the mat.

“Would you care to go a few rounds?”

“If I recall correctly the last time we sparred you indicated you wouldn’t do so again anytime soon,” Percy said with a chuckle.

“Circumstances change,” Blake said coldly as if angry. Percy arched his eyebrows at his friend but didn’t question him.

The viscount walked into the center of the ring and turned to face him. With a slight shrug of puzzlement, Percy moved forward and barely managed to dodge the viscount’s initial punch. As the two of them danced and parried with each other on the floor, Percy deflected a blow to the head and darted back a few feet. Blake followed him, forcing Percy to continue dodging and deflecting his friend’s punches. The intense look on the viscount’s face made Percy think his friend had to be battling not only him, but an army of invisible demons as well. Another one of Blake’s punches slammed into his shoulder, and Percy grunted. The exercise was beginning to hurt.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” His disgusted tone sent a flicker of remorse sliding across the viscount’s features before his expression hardened again

“If you prefer, I can find someone else to spar with me.”

The viscount’s words made Percy expel a harsh breath of air as he shook his head. The moment he was back on his feet, Percy threw a hard punch that connected with his friend’s jaw. Blake’s head snapped backward from the jab, which sent him staggering backward. Immediately Percy grimaced with regret at the strength of his blow. The viscount came back at him a moment later with a blazing flurry of punches. It took every bit of skill Percy possessed to keep from losing ground.

They’d been sparring for almost five minutes when Blake held up his hands in a silent request to end their physical blows. Hands on his hips, Percy bent over at the waist and dragged in deep breaths of air into lungs that were burning from his exertions. Still bent over, Percy turned his head toward his friend. Blake was also bent over and breathing hard. Percy slowly straightened.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you are having wife difficulties.”

“Would you care to clarify that remark,” Blake snarled. The air crackled as if the ground beneath Percy’s feet was a thin layer of ice. The viscount’s stony expression made Percy shake his head in disgust.

“It was just a bloody observation. Whenever my brother is irritated with home life he spars like you do. Although, given your wife’s pleasant company—”

It was as if a brick had slammed into Percy’s jaw. He staggered backward then crashed to the hard mat. Dazed, he stared up at the viscount. A menacing look on his face, Blake bent over him.

“How do you know Arianna?”

“I met her the other day when I called on your sister-in-law,” he said irritably as he gently shifted his jaw and spit blood out from inside his mouth.