LITMIR.BIZ

       Chapter Eight

      ‘Julianna?’ Marcus prompted with increasing unease for her silence and the faraway look in those grey, unfocused eyes.

      He didn’t feel the least reassured as she stood up abruptly before crossing the room to stand beside the fireplace, the soft curtain of her hair hiding her face as she turned away from him. ‘I should never ... This is wrong. I was wrong to force you to do this,’ she added firmly, shoulders stiff above the rigidity of her spine. ‘I apologize for—for... You should know I would never have gone to Lord Standish and told him of your—your involvement with his wife, before their marriage.’

      ‘I am gratified to hear it,’ he murmured softly.

      Tears glistened in those beautiful grey eyes as she lifted her head to face him, her cheeks pale. ‘I sincerely apologize, Marcus, beg your forgiveness for having forced you—’ She gave a shake of her head, her hair like a living flame as it flowed down about her shoulders and over the swell of her breasts. ‘I can only hope that my scandalous behaviour these past three days has not in any way affected your long-standing friendship with my brother.’

      ‘Not in the least,’ Marcus reassured her gruffly, wary of what she was going to say next.

      ‘But your poor hand—’

      ‘My “poor hand”, as you call it, was injured before Christian and I sparred together in the boxing ring yesterday,’ he assured her.

      Her gaze sharpened. ‘It was?’

      ‘Yes.’ Marcus stood up, realizing that it was Julianna’s intention to call an end to their arrangement, and that the time for prevarication was over. ‘I put my fist through the Japanese screen after you left me yesterday, hence it becoming “damaged”.’

      Her eyes widened. ‘Accidentally?’

      ‘No,’ he answered her honestly. ‘After our conversation yesterday I could not bear the thought—’ He broke off, choosing his next words carefully. ‘I was angry, furiously so, at thoughts of how you must have suffered all those years at Armitage’s hands.’

      ‘It was not all John’s fault—’

      ‘Yes, it was, damn it!’ he bit out fiercely.

      ‘No,’ she insisted quietly. ‘I did not love him any more than he loved me. I ... Perhaps if I had—’

      ‘John Armitage preferred the company of whores to that of a wife, and the looser their morals the better!’ Marcus bit out grimly, having no intention of allowing Julianna to take the blame for her unhappy marriage. ‘His tastes were...unusual.’

      Her brows rose. ‘In what way?’

      ‘I would rather not—’

      ‘In what way, Marcus?’ Juliana persisted firmly.

      ‘In the way of his preferring to—to share his bed with more than one person.’ He scowled darkly.

      Her face grew even paler. ‘I don’t understand.’

      Marcus drew in a deep, controlling breath. ‘Man, or woman, Armitage had no preference as to which as long as it added to his entertainment.’ His gaze sharpened. ‘He did not ever ask you to—’

      ‘No,’ Julianna assured hastily, feeling ill as she thought of those increasingly rare nights when John had come to her bed—perhaps straight from the arms of his lovers? Perhaps he had even needed that stimulation before he was able to come to her bed at all.

      Her nausea deepened at the thought. ‘And I had thought his lack of interest in me to be because I was... because I was not desirable.’

      Marcus almost laughed at such a nonsensical notion. Almost. Because he could see from Julianna’s pained expression, and the shadows in her eyes, how she had suffered because of Armitage’s indifference to her. ‘You were, and still are, a lady, Julianna, and a very desirable one. And Armitage’s sexual preferences were founded in the gutter.’

      She blinked. ‘H—How do you know these things?’

      ‘I overheard him talking one night in a gaming club almost four years ago, not long after you were married,’ Marcus revealed reluctantly. ‘He was bragging of his sexual preferences. I—it disgusted me to the point that I—’ He broke off abruptly, hands clenched at his sides at the memory—the shameful memory—of what else had almost happened that night.

      ‘I—that is—almost four years ago, you say?’ Julianna realized softly. ‘Is it possible you heard this conversation the night before Emily Proctor was to marry Lord Standish?’

      Marcus stilled. ‘Perhaps...’

      ‘Was it?’ Julianna persisted determinedly.

      ‘Yes!’ A nerve pulsed in his tightly clenched jaw.

      She looked up at him searchingly. ‘Marcus?’

      He turned away to walk across and stare sightlessly out of his study window, unable to withstand that penetrating gaze a moment longer. ‘You should know, I did not...agree to our arrangement these past few days because you blackmailed me, Julianna.’

      Julianna stared at the uncompromising set of Marcus’s shoulders, the stiffness of his spine beneath the flowing white shirt, wondering if she had misunderstood him, if it were not merely wishful thinking on her part that she thought he might care for her.

      Whatever the outcome of this conversation, Julianna knew that there were things between them that needed to be said, and that if they were not said now they might never be.

      Her pride dictated that she not open herself up for the same rejection she had suffered in her marriage. At the same time, the memory of the difficulties she had placed herself in the last time she let pride dictate her actions mocked that reluctance. There must be truth between the two of them now, even if that truth resulted in her humiliation. Surely, after these past three days, she owed Marcus that much, at least.

      She drew in a deep breath before speaking softly. ‘And I have realized these past few days that I did not blackmail you, and only you, because of a sudden need for sexual knowledge.’

      Marcus turned slowly, eyes searching the pale calm of Julianna’s face. ‘Then why did you?’ he finally asked.

      She smiled ruefully. ‘Forgive me, but even I had not realized my true reasons until a few minutes ago.’ She closed her eyes briefly as she gave a shake of her head. ‘Do you even remember that night all those years ago when you danced a waltz with me at Almack’s?’

      He nodded. ‘It was the night of your eighteenth birthday. You looked... you were so beautiful that night, Julianna, that just to look at you took my breath away.’

      ‘I fell in love that

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