Darian reached out to grasp the tops of her arms, relaxing his hold slightly as he instantly became aware of the way in which Mariah was trembling. ‘You are avoiding answering the question directly, Mariah.’

  Her gaze also avoided meeting his. ‘No—’

  ‘Yes,’ he insisted gently. ‘You did not love Carlisle. Your manner when you speak of him implies that you did not even like him. You have stated that he was indifferent to you and did not love you any more than you loved him. There have been no other children in your marriage. If those were the true circumstances—’

  ‘I do not tell lies, Darian,’ Mariah bit out tautly, her chin defensively high, while inside, much as she fought against it, she felt those walls about her emotions slowly but surely crumbling at her feet. ‘I abhor it in others and will not allow it in or to myself.’

  ‘Then why, young as you were, would you have given yourself to a man such as Carlisle—’ Wolfingham broke off with a gasp, his cheeks taking on a shocking pallor. ‘Carlisle took you against your will.’ It was a statement, not a question.

  It was too much. Darian was too much. And Mariah could no longer bear it. She could not look at him any longer!

  ‘No.’ Darian’s hands tightened on Mariah’s arms as she would have pulled away from him, with the obvious intention of escaping. Of possibly returning to the house without him. ‘No, Mariah,’ he repeated softly, even as he released his grip to instead gather her into his arms as he cradled her close against him. ‘We have come so far in this conversation, now we must finish it.’

  ‘Why must we?’ She held herself stiffly in his arms.

  ‘Perhaps for your own sake?’

  She gave a choked laugh. ‘I already know the events of the past, Darian, I certainly do not need to talk of them in order to remember them with sickening clarity.’

  ‘Please, Mariah,’ Darian encouraged gruffly, holding back his need to know the truth as he sensed the emotions now raging within her.

  He could sense her anger, certainly. Her pain. And perhaps still a little of the desire they had felt for each other earlier? Which, he realised ruefully, was perhaps the only reason that she had not already issued him one of her icy set-downs before marching back to the house. Alone.

  Darian’s arms tightened about Mariah. ‘Was I right when I said that Carlisle took you against your will?’

  She drew in a ragged breath. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Oh, Mariah,’ he breathed out raggedly.

  ‘Carlisle was— I told you, he was in need of funds,’ she continued forcefully, as if to ward off any show of compassion from Darian. ‘He knew, all of society knew, that my father was extremely wealthy.’

  ‘And?’ Darian encouraged gently.

  She drew in a ragged breath. ‘Can you not leave this alone?’

  ‘No more than I can leave you alone,’ he assured tautly.

  Mariah sighed softly before answering him. ‘The Season was only weeks old and Carlisle had danced with me several times at various balls. He could not have failed to know I did not—that I had no particular liking for him. Nor would I ever willingly accept a marriage proposal from him. No matter what his title,’ she added ruefully.

  Darian was now ashamed of himself for ever having suggested that might have been her motive for marrying a man so much older than herself. ‘It was a natural, if insulting, assumption to have made.’

  ‘Perhaps,’ she allowed flatly before continuing. ‘Carlisle was not a man to accept a refusal, most especially not from the daughter of a man he, and his family, considered as being so inferior to himself.’

  ‘His family were cruel to you?’ If that was so, then it explained Mariah’s overprotectiveness towards her daughter’s future husband and family.

  ‘They considered me beneath them and treated me accordingly,’ Mariah confirmed huskily, licking the dryness of her lips before speaking again. ‘Knowing of my aversion, Carlisle lay in wait for me at one of those balls, trapped me alone in a room and—and then he— I will leave you to draw your own conclusion as to what happened next!’ She shivered in Darian’s arms.

  ‘Mariah?’ A black haze had passed in front of Darian’s eyes at all that Mariah had not said. That she could not say. ‘Why did your father not deal with him? Call him out? Expose him in society for the beast he was?’

  ‘I did not— I dared not tell either of my parents what had happened.’

  ‘Why not?’ Darian scowled darkly.

  Mariah shook her head. ‘My father was very wealthy, but even so he was only a minor landowner, had made his money in trade and was only accepted into the fringes of society, as was I. Carlisle, on the other hand, might not have been rich, but his title made him extremely powerful in society. And if my father had challenged him, or Carlisle had called him out for making his accusations against him, I have absolutely no doubt as to which of them would have walked away.’ She gave a shudder.

  Nor did Darian; Martin Beecham had been known as an excellent shot and swordsman.

  ‘Besides,’ Mariah continued in that same flat voice, ‘Carlisle had made it clear to me after—afterwards...’ a little colour flared briefly in her cheeks before as quickly fading again ‘...that if I told my father what had happened, then he would deny my accusations, claim that it was just my own guilty conscience regarding our having acted on our desire for each other. And that the only outcome to my confession would be the one that he wanted anyway, our immediate betrothal and marriage. He also threatened—’ She breathed shakily. ‘He said he would do that again, and again, until I carried his child, so leaving me with no choice but to marry him.’

  ‘The utter and complete bastard!’ If Carlisle had been alive today then Darian knew that he would happily have thrust a sword or knife blade through the other man’s cruel black heart, for what he had done to Mariah. Or put a bullet in that same warped and twisted heart.

  Mariah pressed her face against Darian’s chest, causing him to bend lower in order to hear her next words. ‘When I discovered just weeks later that I was indeed expecting his child, I wanted to die, to run away. I even thought of ending my own life. And yet I could not do that either, not with the babe inside me. It would have been nothing less than murder. And my father, as Carlisle had predicted, once told of my condition could not refuse the earl’s offer of marriage. Not without causing scandal and ruin for all of us. I was well and truly trapped. Into marrying a man I not only hated, but also had every reason to fear—’ She broke off as a sob caught at the back of her throat.

  Darian inwardly cursed himself for having forced the subject to the point that he had put Mariah through the pain of reliving those unhappy memories of her past.

  The memory of the taking of what Darian was sure would have to have been her young and inexperienced body.

  A body that now trembled almost uncontrollably against his own as Mariah battled to stop the tears from falling.

  Darian had no doubt they were tears Mariah should have shed eighteen years ago. For the manner in which she had lost her innocence. For the babe, conceived in fear on Mariah’s part and greed on Carlisle’s.

  For the twelve years of unhappiness she had spent as wife to the very man who had raped her.

  Chapter Ten

  Darian shifted slightly so that his arms were beneath Mariah’s thighs and shoulders as he lifted her up and against his chest before striding across to sit down on one of the ledges along the outside of the temple. He settled Mariah comfortably on his thighs, her head, for the moment, resting against his shoulder.

  Darian held on to her tightly. ‘I believe it would be better if you now tell me all, Mariah, when you have already come so far.’

  She gave a shake of her head. ‘And I do not care to talk, or think, any more about those horrible memories.’

  ‘The memories of when Carlisle raped you. What he did was the rape of an innocent, Mariah, nothing more, nothing less,’ Darian insisted grimly as she stiffened in his arms.

  ‘I am well aware of what it was.’

  ‘After which, he then forced you into years of suffering an unhappy marriage with him, because of your daughter.’ Darian could barely contain the violence he felt at learning of Carlisle’s brutish behaviour. An impotent violence, in view of the fact that Carlisle was no longer alive to feel the lash of his tongue or the flash of his blade. Carlisle might have been an excellent swordsman, but Darian knew he was better.

  ‘I may not have wanted the marriage, or Carlisle, but I have loved Christina since the day she was born,’ Mariah instantly defended. ‘She has always been the one shining light in my life.’

  Darian nodded, only too well aware of the protectiveness she felt towards her daughter.

  As he was also now aware of her reason for objecting so vehemently to the idea of Lady Christina marrying anyone at the age of only seventeen years. The same age as Mariah had been when she was forced to marry Carlisle.

  ‘But there was no heir?’ Darian prompted slowly.

  ‘Carlisle did not— He had no interest in my producing his heir. He had a younger cousin he was perfectly happy should inherit the title. His only reason for marrying me was to attain a portion of my father’s considerable fortune.’

  ‘I have noted that marriage has a way of producing children, whether they are wanted or not,’ Darian drawled ruefully.

  ‘And I have already told you that Carlisle was completely indifferent to me as his wife.’

  Darian looked down at Mariah with incredulous eyes. ‘Are you saying— You cannot possibly mean—’

  ‘What, Darian?’ Mariah lifted her head to look up at him, her eyes dark and shadowed in the pallor of her face. ‘I cannot possibly mean that my husband’s uninterest in me was such that he did not share my bed, even once, after we were married?’ Her smile was completely lacking in humour as she gave a shake of her head. ‘Why can I not mean that, Darian, when it is the truth?’

  A truth that Darian could not even begin to comprehend, when his own desire for Mariah was such that he found it difficult to sleep at night, to stop thinking about her day and night, of the ways in which he wished to make love with her. She had been Carlisle’s wife for twelve years. Surely the other man could not have—

  Mariah took advantage of his distraction to pull herself abruptly out of his arms before standing up and turning the paleness of her face away in profile, a shutter seeming to have come down over her emotions—no doubt because she deeply regretted having revealed them in the first place.

  ‘Why should Carlisle have need of the attentions of his very young and very inexperienced wife,’ she continued drily, ‘when his mistress of over twenty years was the housekeeper of our London home?’

  ‘Carlisle kept his mistress in your home after you were married?’ Darian stood up slowly.

  It was well known that many gentlemen of the ton kept a mistress after they were married. But never, ever, in the same house as their wife. It was not done. It simply was not done. And yet, it appeared that that was exactly what Carlisle had done.

  ‘In truth, I was grateful for Mrs Smith’s existence.’ Mariah shrugged dismissively as she briskly pulled her glove back on to the hand she had earlier dipped into the heated pool. ‘And I was not made uncomfortable by the arrangement, visiting London rarely during the first ten years of our marriage. I much preferred to remain in the country with Christina.’

  Darian breathed deeply. ‘But something happened to change that? Did you and Carlisle perhaps reconcile?’

  ‘There was nothing to reconcile.’ She turned to frown at him. ‘How could there be, when we had never been husband and wife in the true sense of the word?’

  ‘But something did change.’

  Mariah knew she had said too much already, revealed too much—more than she had ever told anyone else about the past and the reason for her marriage to Martin. The only thing she had not shared with Darian was Martin’s treasonous behaviour. And the lie that was the rumour of her numerous affairs...

  She had never confided as much to anyone about the past as she now had to Darian Hunter. Knew she had only been lulled into doing so this time because her emotions had already been disturbed by what she had seen and done in the temple. From her imaginings as to what it would be like to engage in those acts with Darian. Imaginings that had deepened, flourished, during the kiss that had followed.

  And that momentary weakness had now cost her dearly.

  Damn it, she had told him of Carlisle’s brutality. Her forced marriage. She had cried in Wolfingham’s arms. She, who never cried, preferring never to show any sign of weakness. To anyone.

  And she did not intend to continue to do so now where Wolfingham was concerned, either. Had made a vow to herself long ago not to allow anyone, apart from Christina, to come so close to her, to know her so well, they were capable of hurting her. ‘Do you still wish to continue with our walk, or has all this ridiculous emotion dampened not only your shirt but your enthusiasm for walking?’ she prompted coolly.

  That astute green gaze remained narrowed on her as Wolfingham stepped closer. ‘There was nothing in the least ridiculous about your upset just now, Mariah.’

  ‘And I believe it to have been an utterly ridiculous waste of time,’ she insisted coldly, ‘when the past, talking about it, changes nothing.’

  ‘And what of the future, Mariah?’ He stepped so close to her now that she could feel the warmth of his breath against her brow. ‘What of your future?’

  She gave a dismissive shrug. ‘Once this weekend is over, I do not believe that to be any of your business.’ Mariah clasped her hands together so that Darian could not see they were trembling still, evidence that her emotions were not as back under her control as she would have wished them to be. Her complete lack of control, just minutes ago, now made her feel vulnerable, in a way she found most disturbing.

  Wolfingham raised his hands to cup both her cheeks before he tilted her face up so that he might look directly into her eyes. ‘And what if I wish to make it my business?’

  Wolfingham’s gentleness was unbearable, before and again now, when Mariah knew her emotions, despite her denials to the contrary, remained ragged and torn. When her defence against Darian’s gentleness remained ragged and torn.

  ‘I am sure I am not the first woman to have been trapped into an unhappy marriage,’ she said drily. ‘Nor will I be the last. And as you say, I did become a countess because of it.’

  ‘Do not attempt to make light of it, Mariah!’ Wolfingham rasped harshly.

  ‘How do you wish me to behave, Darian?’ Her eyes flashed darkly as she looked up at him defiantly. ‘I have wailed and railed, and now I wish to forget it. As I have forgotten it these past seventeen years.’

  ‘Did you forget, Mariah?’ He looked down at her searchingly. ‘Did you ever really forget what that man did to you?’

  Of course Mariah had never forgotten. She had not wanted to forget, was the woman she was today because of it.

  Her chin rose. ‘Enough so that I do not require, or need, your own or anyone’s pity because of it.’

  ‘Does this feel like pity to you?’ Wolfingham had grasped one of her hands and placed it over the noticeable bulge in his pantaloons. ‘Does it?’ He pushed for an answer, his eyes glittering down at her darkly.

  ‘And how long will that desire last, Wolfingham?’ Mariah fell back on derision as her defence as she deliberately removed her hand at the same time as she returned his gaze mockingly. ‘Until you have sated your lust between my thighs and then wish to move on to some other conquest? Possibly to a woman who is younger and less complicated!’

  He gave a slow shake of his head. ‘I find your complications intriguing and your age of four and thirty is unimportant to me.’ A nerve pulsed in the tightness of his jaw. ‘And I resent your assumption that my desire for you is a fleeting thing.’

  ‘Perhaps I presume as much because it has been my experience that a man will say anything, promise anything, when he wishes to bed a certain woman.’ She eyed him scornfully.

  Darian frowned his frustration. He did not give a damn what Mariah’s previous lovers had told her, or promised her, when he was the man now standing before her, telling her, physically showing her, how much he desired her. How much he desired to be with her.

  A desire of such intensity that Darian had no doubt it would not abate for some time. If ever.

  More than anything he wished to take Mariah to his bed. To gently kiss her, caress her, to taste her, to worship every satiny inch of her, and show her the depth of his desire for her. And then he wished to start all over again. And again. And then again. Again, and again, and again, until Mariah was left in absolutely no doubt as to the depth of his desire for her.

  At the same time as he knew that this place, Eton Park, with its peepholes into the bedchambers and a temple worthy of the debauchery of the Roman Empire at the height of its power, and the guests to match, plus the Nicholses’ intrigues, was not where he wished to lie with Mariah the first time. Not where he wished to make love with her, to worship her and her body, as she so deserved to be worshipped.

  His hands fell back to his sides as he stepped back. ‘Very well, we will continue with our walk for now. But we will talk on this subject again once we are back in London,’ he added softly.

  She arched a taunting brow. ‘Not if I do not wish to do so.’

  Darian’s mouth quirked into an equally mocking smile. ‘A word of advice, Mariah. I am not like any of your previous lovers. When you know me better, which you most assuredly will, I believe you will find that I am a man who always means what he says as well as always keeps his promises!’

  Mariah masked her uneasiness as she fell into step beside him as he began to walk back in the direction of the lake, very much afraid that Darian Hunter was indeed a man who always meant what he said as well as kept all of his promises.

  Afraid?

  Oh, yes, Mariah was very much afraid, in spite of everything that had happened between them since they first met, that she desired Darian Hunter as much as he now claimed to desire her.