Free The Light in the Darkness by Ellen Fisher Page B

not a man who inspired affection. “As long as she will not cause you to forget me,” she murmured seductively.
    Grey looked at her shoulders and round, full breasts, glistening in the sunlight. “Small chance of that,” he replied in a halfhearted attempt at gallantry, though she knew full well that he scarcely spared her a thought unless he wanted a woman to warm his bed. He added more seriously, “What puzzles me is why you ever wanted me to begin with.”
    Melissa hesitated. She had her own reasons for cuckolding her husband with Grey, reasons that she preferred he know nothing about. “You are very attractive,” she said at last. “Every woman in Virginia wants you.” That, at least, was true enough. Despite the rumors that he was mad—or perhaps because of the rumors—women were drawn irresistibly to him. Part of his attraction was his immense fortune, but that did not explain why married women pursued him almost as zealously as unwed girls.
    Grey frowned, his heavy black eyebrows drawing together over pale silver eyes. “Your husband is handsome as well, more so than I am.”
    Melissa sighed. How could she explain the powerful magnetism that Grey exuded? True, he was not handsome in the traditional sense, but he radiated a strength that was extremely attractive, even when he was foxed, and his carved features were strikingly aristocratic. She did not reply, afraid that she might betray herself if the subject went further.
    “If you were unwed,” Grey pressed on with single-minded determination, “I would have suspected your interest was in my fortune. As it stands, however, I cannot imagine what it is about me that you find attractive.” He was not modest; he was aware that women seemed to like to look at him. Generally, though, a few moments in his presence cured them of any notion that he was attractive in any way beyond his looks. Melissa, on the other hand, had been his mistress since shortly after Diana had died—though he had not restricted himself solely to her bed. Far from it.
    “Does your wife find you attractive?” Melissa countered,uneasy with the direction the conversation had taken.
    Grey turned away. An expression strangely foreign to his face, a look almost of embarrassment, was beginning to settle over his features, as though even he was appalled by what his callousness had done to the girl he had married. “I hardly think so. At the beginning I believe she saw me as a hero, a knight in shining armor, but—I took steps to correct that. I cannot bear to have her following me like an adoring puppy.” He shrugged, “She is not bright, perhaps even a little simple-minded. I think she is afraid of me.”
    Not surprisingly, Melissa thought, studying his sharp profile, the curving nose and jutting cheekbones, and the harsh expression etched, apparently permanently, on his face. To her surprise she felt a brief stab of pity for the poor girl whom Grey had married. To be wed to such a cruelly indifferent man, to be ripped from familiar surroundings and thrown into a completely foreign environment—the child must be terrified. And Grey, typically enough, did not seem to give a damn.
    Melissa suppressed her unwanted surge of pity. The girl’s presence, she realized, was to her advantage. If Grey was no longer being pursued by every unwed ninny in the colony, she could continue to hold his attention. She alone would share his bed. And to further her aims, to obtain what she wanted most, that was necessary. The happiness of a mere tavern wench, she decided coldly, mattered not at all.
    While her husband dallied with his mistress in the woods, Jennifer sat in the parlor learning to be worthy of him. So impressed was she with her attire that she barely listened when Catherine spoke. She regarded her wide hoops with a peculiar mixture of delight and distaste. As a lowly tavern wench, she had never before worn side hoops, or panniers. She knew that some members of the middle class, such as