Karen Robards - Forbidden Love

"Oh, you won't have me blaming the servants, eh?" he questioned sardonically. "You will forgive me, I'm sure, if I have forgotten the occasion where you were given to understand that I regarded your words as my law?"

Megan glowered at him; then, remembering the fear she had seen in the faces of Mrs. Donovan and the others when she had left them in the kitchen, she determined to try another tack. She could not bear it if they were to lose their places because of their kindness to her. Where would they go?

"I told Donovan that it was my birthday," she confessed. "And asked if we could perhaps have a small celebration. I-I've never had a birthday party…"

Although she didn't know it, Megan's voice took on a pathetic kind of dignity that touched Justin. He felt a stab of guilt as he remembered his punctilious birthday gift to her: a pair of pearl eardrops, if he remembered correctly, chosen by the excellent Stanton and posted to Megan at her school. All very correct and quite impersonal.

Justin's long silence and the frowning expression on his face made Megan swallow hard. Surely he would not vent his anger upon the servants, most of whom had been in his employ for years?

"You mustn't blame them!" she cried impetuously. His eyes came to lock with hers, and his mouth tightened.

"One of the many things you apparently still have to learn, my girl, is that you never say `mustn't' to me. I will do as I please, and you will do as I please. That is something I want perfectly understood." The cutting words made Megan's eyes flash. "The rest I will say to you later, in more suitable surroundings. Now, I am telling you to get the hell out of here!"

Justin was beginning to lose control of his temper. The water was getting cold, his supper was getting cold; his sense of duty was under a severe strain. She appeared to find nothing particularly disturbing in his nakedness, concealed imperfectly by the soapy water. He had always thought, without really thinking much about it at all, that gently reared young ladies were likely to faint away at their first sight of a naked man. Which led him to draw one of two unwelcome conclusions: either she was more familiar with the unclothed male form than was proper, or she was a most unusual young lady. Either way, he could see nothing but trouble ahead.

"You won't even listen, will you?" she cried passionately. "You never listen! All you care about is giving orders!"

And with that, to Justin's horror, she flung herself across the bed, and burst into a torrent of tears.

"Oh, for God's sake…!" Justin muttered form under his breath, looking at her recumbent with exasperation. She continued to cry restraint, her slight shoulders heaving with the force of her grief. Justin, cursing heartily, getting out of the tub and pulled on his dressing gown without even bothering to dry himself. Then, ignoring the water that pooled on the floor, he crossed to the bed.

"Megan," he said, reaching out to lay a gentle hand on her shoulder. "There's no need for you to upset yourself. I have no intention of dismissing the servants."

She paid no heed to this remark, but continued to cry as if her heart was ready to break. Justin sighed again, feeling, against all reason, like some kind of monster. Hell, he hadn't even laid a finger on the chit, and yet here he was feeling guilty as could be.

"Megan," he said, this time with more authority, "that's enough. Stop crying." And when she continued to sob he applied some slight pressure to her shoulder and rolled her over on to her back.

"Let me alone!" she said fiercely, sitting up. "I'm not crying! I never cry!"

Sobs punctuated her words, and tears hung like raindrops from the sooty fringe of her lashes and traced shining rivers down her pale cheeks. Those purple eyes looked like violets after a storm, all dewy and moist and glistening. Justin, watching the soft rose lips quiver pathetically, felt an unaccustomed pang of compassion.

"I see," he said gravely, tempted to smile but fighting the impulse heroically. Megan glared up at him as he towered over her; her eyes awash with tears that showed no sign of abating.

"Don't you dare laugh at me!" She looked absurdly fierce, and Justin could not restrain a faint quiver of amusement.

To his astonishment, her mouth contorted with rage, and she launched herself at him, hissing and clawing like an outraged kitten. Justin caught her wrists without any difficulty, holding her away from him so that her kicks and writhing did not the least damage.

"Here, now," he said with some surprise, amused by her furious struggle to break his hold. When at last she saw that it was impossible, she stood still, her slight wrists imprisoned in his hands, her head thrown back defiantly.

"Let me go!" she raged, her eyes glittering. Justin stared at their deepening color with unconscious fascination. They were beautiful. "I hate you!" she added, and then there was a fresh outburst of sobbing.

"Christ!" Justin shook his head, feeling routed before the battle had even begun.

He wasn't quite certain what had brought on this deluge, but it didn't matter. Whatever its cause, he couldn't stand it. His mouth twisting in a wry grimace, he scooped her up into his arms as if she were seven instead of seventeen and, holding her cradled against his chest, walked with her to one of the two big chairs set before the fire. He sat down with her on his lap, his hands moving comfortingly over her heaving back. Megan offered no resistance. After initial stiffening when he had first picked her up, she seemed content to be in his arms, burying her face in the curve between his shoulder and neck and weeping unrestrainedly.

"Hush now," he murmured into her hair, his hands coming up to smooth the tumbled tresses. Her hair felt like silk. "It's all right, I promise you.”

Megan responded to his gentleness; her arms crept up to encircle his neck, and she clung to him. Her mouth was hot and wet against the skin of his neck as she sobbed. Justin, becoming uncomfortably aware that this was no child he held in his lap, nevertheless reminded himself that she no doubt regarded him as a sort of father, and it was in this capacity that he set himself to soothing her, ignoring the instinctive stirrings of his body. He murmured to her, petting and stroking her as if she were a ruffled kitten, until finally, her arms loosened their hold on his neck, and she lay quietly against him.

"I'm sorry," she said presently, sitting up and looking at him hesitantly. Justin found himself smiling at her. Somewhat to his surprise, he found that he was beginning to like her very much; he supposed, with an inward grimace, that he felt like an uncle with a favorite niece.

"I truly never cry," she continued, her lashes flickering down to hide her eyes. Justin noticed with interest that a deep pink blush was staining her cheeks. Then she added, with a chuckle, “Usually I don't." She peeped up at him through those absurdly long lashes.

Justin's smile widened. "That's all right," he told her blandly. "I was wet anyway."

This won him another chuckle, not quite as damp as the first. "You were, weren't you? I'm sorry about ruining your bath."

"I'll forgive you-this time. But don't let it happen again." A stern note entered his voice, but he was smiling.

Megan smiled back. "No, I won't," she promised. "I really don't make a habit of invading gentlemen’s bedchambers. I was just upset."

"Then it's to be hoped that you don't get upset too often." This was said in an extremely dry tone that made Megan laugh.

"You're really very nice," she said, as if she had made a surprising discovery. "Not at all as I remember. You always seemed so-so distant. As if you didn't like me very much!"

Justin felt another pang of conscience. "I'm sorry if I gave you that impression." His eyes were steady on hers. "I suppose the only excuse I can offer you is that I haven't had much experience with children."