The Heir - Catherine Coulter [57]
Touch her life? God, Justin had ripped through her life, doing his utmost to destroy her. The nagging soreness between her thighs was bitter proof that he had violated her body. She would not let him ravage her mind and spirit as well.
His words were clear in her mind, yet they were so absurd that she had difficulty crediting them. She tried to remember his words, to give them some meaning she hadn’t yet comprehended, not to excuse him for what he had done to her, but to allow her to understand. Absurdly, he believed that the comte was her lover. And he’d spoken of seeing them at the barn. It made no sense at all. She could not fathom how Justin had drawn such a damning conclusion. Someone must have lied to him, convinced him that she had betrayed him.
But who could have done that and, for God’s sake, why?
She frowned between Lucifer’s ears. It was beyond obvious that he had believed the lie. Then why had he gone through with their marriage? Ah, but she was being stupid. If he hadn’t gone through with the wedding, he would have lost the greater portion of his inheritance. And he’d said it himself. He’d been quite clear. She had betrayed him but he couldn’t kill her else he would lose everything. But he was thinking about killing Gervaise. She wondered dispassionately if he would kill the comte. She found that she didn’t care a great deal, except, of course, that the comte was innocent of bedding the earl’s bride.
She pulled Lucifer to a halt. He was breathing hard. She looked about her and realized with a start that she had ridden past the Roman ruins without even noticing. She drew up and patted her horse’s neck. She suddenly remembered a phrase she had overheard her father say to one of his friends: “I rode the wench until she would have thrown me off, if she could.” She thought ironically that at least the meaning of his crude remark was now clear to her.
Almost unwilling she turned Lucifer about and headed at a slow trot back to Evesham Abbey. She must have ridden for hours, for the sun was reaching its zenith in the sky.
She could feel her bitter calm begin to crumble the nearer she drew to his home. Justin would be there, waiting. She would have to face him, not just today, but tomorrow, a lifetime of tomorrows. For a fleeting moment she considered confronting him, to plead her innocence again, to demand to know who had told him such a damning lie. She pictured such a scene in her mind and saw herself pleading and him rejecting her pleas, as he had the night before. Instinctively, after his rage of last night, she knew that he would still disbelieve her. She pictured renewed fury and savage reprisal. In that instant she hated that she was female and thus weaker, hated his superior strength that could allow him to dominate her through sheer physical power.
Arabella shivered despite the hot sun that beat down upon her black riding habit. Surely he would not force her to submit to him again. Hadn’t he said he wouldn’t spill his seed in her again? Hadn’t he said that he wanted no child from her? His revenge upon her had been thorough and merciless. But it was over now, or at least for as long as he kept to his vow.
She guided Lucifer into the stable yard, pulled up before her sweating groom, and slid to the ground. She hated the feeling of wariness, of dread that washed over her as she neared the front doors of Evesham Abbey. God, if she did not have her pride, she would have nothing. He must not know how he had hurt her, disillusioned her. She would not allow that. She thought again of his words of the night before, spoken so calmly at her and yet there was such deadly