Betrayed by Your Kiss (11 page)

“Easy, Liv, easy. You’re safe now.”

“Get her away from the building, lad,” Captain Durham said. He leaned down to help Damien to his feet. “She needs to get out of this smoke.”

Damien rose with Olivia in his arms. His legs screamed in pain, and he nearly stumbled when he took the first step.

“Let me carry her,” Durham offered.

“No,” Damien answered, limping away from the blaze. “I should never have let her out of my sight.”

Damien looked down. Olivia’s complexion was ashen pale. Her eyes remained closed, and when she did open them, he was struck by the terror he saw there. A terror he remembered all too clearly.

The realization of what could have happened loomed larger with each step he took away from the blazing fire. By the time he reached the carriage Chivers had driven, Damien’s temper was flaming in a raging fury. What the hell was she doing down here? How many times had he forbid her to come alone? Bloody hell! She could have died.

Damien stopped when Olivia sucked in a labored breath, then she drew her knees in as another spasm wracked her body. She gasped for air, her body tensing in fear. How he remembered doing the same. The panic that consumed him because he couldn’t take in enough air to breathe. Struggling against the unbelievable pain.

Damien stood frozen to the spot while Olivia trembled in his arms. Going into that burning building was like enduring the terror and the pain all over again.

Damn her! She could have died!

“Iversley.”

Damien heard the captain’s soft voice from behind him and felt the man’s steady hand resting atop his shoulder. He’d relied on Durham all those months after the fire, when all he wanted was to die. It was Durham who had rubbed his aching legs when the muscles knotted and cramped. And Durham who had sat with him when the pain was so bad Damien was on the verge of taking his life.

Damien looked from the concerned expression on Durham’s face to Olivia’s fragile body in his arms.

Her eyes were open, and she looked at him with huge tears threatening to spill over her lashes.

“I didn’t discover the fire until it was too late,” she gasped.

Damien realized how fragile she was and fought another surge of terror for what she’d gone through. “What the hell were you doing down here anyway?” he hissed. “You could have been killed.” He ground his teeth and said in anger, “And it would have served you right.”

Damien wanted to take the words back the minute they left his mouth, but it was too late. Her face paled even more, and with a ragged breath she uttered, “Yes. I could have made everything so much simpler.”

She closed her eyes, and the tears he was sure she didn’t realize were there seeped between her lashes and ran down her cheeks.

“You need to get her home,” Durham said softly.

Damien nodded and walked to the waiting carriage. Chivers had the stairs pulled down and Damien stepped up with Olivia in his arms.

“Please, put me down,” she said, her voice ragged and hoarse.

Damien ignored her and leaned out the window. “Hurry, Chivers. Take us home.”

Damien watched Chivers rush to the front and climb atop. Before the carriage lurched forward, Captain Durham approached the window. “I’ll take care of things here,” he said, glancing back at the smoldering shipping office, “and see if I can find out anything. Maybe the person responsible left some evidence.”

Damien nodded, then leaned back against the cushions as the carriage took off. His legs ached mercilessly, and when Olivia struggled to get off his lap, another shot of pain spiked through his thighs. He sucked in a heavy breath and pulled her firmly against him. “Sit still, dammit!”

She went stiff in his arms, and he inwardly cursed himself. He’d never felt such terror as he had when he realized Olivia was inside the building. Never felt such helplessness as when he couldn’t find her. Never knew such devastation as when he feared he might be too late. And instead of letting her know how much her safety meant to him, his fear came out in the form of anger.

Damien breathed a deep, shuddering breath and wrapped one hand around her middle. He placed the other around her shoulder and pressed her shivering body close to his. She held herself away from him for what seemed an eternity, then gave into exhaustion and burrowed deeper against him.

In the darkened silence of the carriage, he rested his chin against the top of her head and tried to make sense of the war his emotions were waging inside him.

Olivia scooted up in the bed and leaned back against the mound of pillows supporting her back. Breathing was easier sitting upright than lying down. She pulled the down covers about her chest and took in as deep a breath as her lungs would allow.

She’d already endured a thorough examination by Doctor Barkley then the ministrations of a very anxious Tilly and the rest of the staff. They’d helped her bathe and wash her hair, then helped her into a fresh nightgown to remove the last hints of soot and the smell of smoke. The drapes in her room had been opened wide at Damien’s insistence, then Cook had sent up a cup of special tea guaranteed to soothe her aching throat.

She’d tried to play down their fussing, but from the moment Damien had carried her into the house, she’d been hovered over until she begged to be left alone. Alone so she could sort out what had happened after the fire. Alone so she could come to terms with Damien’s reaction. A reaction that frightened her nearly as much as being trapped in the fire.

A part of her wasn’t ready to face the harshness of his feelings. A harshness he’d made more than obvious. Another example of the hostility he hadn’t tried to conceal from the moment he’d come back. And no matter how hard she tried, there was no way she could excuse his anger for anything but what it was. She was an inconvenience to him, a bothersome irritation he’d just as soon do without. Except he couldn’t. Because she was the means to his end.

Whether she wanted to face it or not, the facts did not lie. Whatever they’d shared had been destroyed when she’d put him aboard the
Princess Anne
. She may not have lost him to death, but she’d lost him nonetheless.

Olivia wrapped her arms around her bent legs and rested her chin atop her knees. She felt so alone. So confused. So frightened.

She brushed her fingers across her damp cheeks, then stiffened when the door opened.

“I thought maybe you’d be sleeping.”

She heard Damien cross the floor and dabbed the corner of the coverlet to her cheeks before turning to face him.

“I’m not sure I want to sleep.”

“It’s common to feel that way at first. Closed in. Like someone has sealed you in a small jar.”

“Is that why you ordered the drapes left open?”

“It helps. The fear you feel now will go away in time.”

“As yours has?”

“Yes, well . . .” Damien pulled a chair close to the bed and stretched his legs out in front of him. “The nightmares are better than they used to be. They come less often.”

He leaned forward and reached out his hand to touch her cheek. She pulled away.

“You’re bruised.”

“Am I?”

“You must have fallen against something.”

“I don’t remember.”

“Olivia, I don’t want you to ever—”

“Do your legs pain you much?”

Olivia knew what Damien was going to say and wanted to avoid his demands. She knew from the stern look on his face he intended to lecture her again for going to the shipping office without telling him where she was going or taking him with her. She knew he was angry with her, but she wasn’t up to hearing him scold her like she was an errant child and he the taskmaster.

And, she didn’t want to waste her energy trying to break down the hostility that sprouted between them without warning. Or struggle to pretend a part of her wasn’t dying inside because the man with whom she’d been so in love her whole life couldn’t forgive her.

“Do they? Still pain you, that is?”

His hands stilled atop his thighs and an unreadable expression covered his face. “At times. More so in the evenings or when I . . .”

“Or when you overexert yourself, such as you did tonight,” Olivia finished for him.

“Don’t let it concern you. It’s not important.”

But she was concerned. More than she wanted to be. “What do you do to ease the pain?”

He cast her a sideways glance that contained no softness, making sure at all times to keep the scarred side of his face turned away. Then he lifted the corners of his mouth in an expression that was a long way from being a smile. “Sometimes I drink until I can’t feel the pain. Sometimes Captain Durham works the muscles until the cramping goes away. Are you worried you will be saddled with a cripple for a husband, my lady?”

There was no mistaking the antagonism in his voice or the sharpness in his words. Yet another example of the punishment he intended to mete out. A reminder of the futility of thinking they could have a future together. Olivia clutched her hands around her middle to buffer the pain. “No. I’m not worried.”

Damien sat forward in his chair and looked at her. It was one of the first times he’d faced her squarely and his whole face was exposed to her. She thought the movement was purposeful, as if he’d wanted to force her to see the whole of him to gauge her reaction.

“How did you get the scar on your face?”

He lifted the corners of his lips to form a smile. But it wasn’t a smile. There was something indifferent in his look. “Does it repulse you?”

“Do you intend for it to?”

His smile broadened. “You’ve changed,” he said. “The Olivia from four years ago would never have answered my question with such a forward question of her own.”

“What would she have done?”

“She would have apologized for having offended me.”

“And were you offended?”

Damien shook his head.

“Then I see no need to apologize.” She kept her gaze locked with his. “And you still have not answered my question. How did you get the scar?”

“It happened during the fire. I’m not sure exactly what struck me. Perhaps parts of the rigging. The masts and yardarms shattered into smithereens, most of them as sharp as rapiers.”

“Is that when your back and legs were damaged?”

He hesitated. His body reacted as if her words had been a whip. His hands tightened to fists at his sides and his midnight-blue eyes hardened. “Yes, that’s when I was
damaged.
”

“I see,” Olivia said, realizing this was another item on the long list of sins that he intended to make her pay for having committed.

“Enough about reliving our past,” he said. “We have other, more important things to discuss.”

Olivia braced herself for what was coming next.

“We have two days and three weeks left before the deadline. We have to—”

“Not now, Damien.”

“If not now, when?” There was a harshness in his tone.

She closed her eyes to block out the intensity of his gaze. “Later.”

“It’s for your own good, Olivia. We have to marry or you’ll lose the ships.”

“Perhaps the ships don’t mean as much to me as you think.”

An uncomfortable silence separated them. Then, a slow, lazy smile lifted his lips. “I know better than that. And I expect an answer.”

Olivia sighed. “Very well. You’ll have your answer.”

“When?”

“In two days. You’ll have my answer in two days.”

Damien gave her a look she didn’t try to understand.

“Very well. I’ll wait until Tuesday. I will have to arrange for the special license soon after.”

She slowly turned to face him. “You’re very sure, aren’t you?”

His dark brows arched in a most menacing manner. “Sure of what, Olivia? That you’ll marry me?”

Damien stood and looked down on her for a fraction of a second, then walked to the open window. He didn’t seem interested in the goings on outside, but merely stared into the predawn sky.

“Your father was as close to me as if he were my real father. He took me in and raised me as if I were his own. He instilled in me a pride for everything he owned because he intended that I would some day have it. That I would care for it as he had done. You understand that as clearly as I do. He instilled that same pride in you. And you love everything that carries the Pellingsworth name as dearly as I do.”

Damien dropped his hands from either side of the window and walked to the foot of the bed. “You will marry me because you won’t give up the ships. And I will marry you because you are mine. I won’t give you up.”

“Because you love me?”

He looked at her, his gaze searing her flesh.

“I did once.”

And he turned and left her.

Chapter 14

Lady Fortinier’s ball was, as promised, one of the most well attended events of the Season. There was hardly one member of Society absent. Which meant everyone would hear of her engagement to Rolland before the stroke of midnight.

Everyone except Damien.

She didn’t doubt he’d be standing in the foyer waiting for her to come home. At least by then her betrothal to Rolland would have been announced, and it would be too late for him to do anything to prevent it.

Olivia forced a smile on her face and tried to appear calm, even though she was quivering inside. She tried to imagine Damien’s reaction when he heard she intended to marry Rolland. He’d be furious, no doubt.

“Is something wrong, Olivia?”

Olivia snapped her gaze to where Prudence stood at her side and focused her attention on what was going on around her. “I’m sorry. What were you saying?”

“I was just commenting on the crush of people. I thought it was crowded before, but even more people have arrived. There’s such a crowd one can hardly hear oneself think. I’m glad Mother found a chair earlier, or she’d be forced to stand until we go down for dinner.”

Olivia looked around the room. “Yes. Everyone is here.”

She cast a glance into the crowd and saw Rolland wend his way through the guests with a footman following him, carrying a tray of filled punch glasses. Prudence must have spotted him at the same time.

“Here comes Rolland.” She smiled and her eyes glowed when she spied him.

Olivia was struck by the open look of adoration on Prudence’s face. A look that was impossible to miss.

She considered how she’d feel if another woman looked at Damien like that, and she realized it would anger her to the point of wanting to harm her. It saddened her to realize she wasn’t angry with Prudence. The love she saw in Prudence’s eyes was something Olivia was incapable of giving Rolland. A love he deserved to have.

“He’s ever so handsome, isn’t he?”

“Yes, he is,” Olivia answered, unable to hide her reaction to Prudence’s admission. Prudence’s face turned a deep shade of red.

“Oh, I shouldn’t have said that.”

“What? That Lord Rotham is handsome? But he is. It’s very plain to anyone who looks at him.”

“But I shouldn’t have said it out loud. I’m terribly sorry. Please forgive me.”

“Nonsense,” Olivia said, squeezing Prudence’s arm in reassurance.

“It’s just that we’ve known each other for so long, and consoled each other through such sadness. I forget myself sometimes. But I’m glad to see him so happy now. Truly I am.”

“So am I,” Olivia said, focusing on Rolland walking toward them.

“He looks quite pleased with himself, doesn’t he?” Prudence said teasingly when Rolland was near enough to hear. “As if getting mere glasses of punch were some amazing feat.

“You wouldn’t say that if you’d been the one battling such a crowd,” Lord Rotham answered good-humoredly, handing Olivia a glass first, then one to Prudence. He took two off the tray for himself and drank one immediately. “It’s a good thing Lady Brockbury didn’t come armed, or she’d have dueled me for your punch,” he said, placing the empty glass back on the tray. “She tried to trip the footman with her cane the way it was.”

“Oh, she did not.” Prudence giggled behind her fan. “You’re exaggerating.”

“On my honor,” Rotham said, holding his hand over his heart. “She did.”

Rolland and Prudence both laughed with ease. Olivia tried. She truly did. But when her gaze met Rolland’s, she knew he saw her fear. His smile faded.

“Would you excuse us a moment, Prudence? I’d like a few words with Olivia.”

“Of course. I need to check on Mother to make sure she has everything she needs.”

“Let me escort you over. Will you be all right until I return?” he said, looking at Olivia.

“Of course.”

Prudence took Rolland’s arm and he led her across the room to Lady Chandler. After saying a few words to her, he wound his way back across the room to where Olivia waited.

“Would it be too cool for you outdoors without a wrap?” Rolland asked.

“No.”

Olivia walked with him across the room, then exited through the large double doors that led to the patio.

“Let’s step over here,” he said, escorting her to the cement stairs and down a flagstone path. “We won’t be bothered.”

A small curved stone bench sat off the side of the path, overlooking a beautiful bed of flowering azaleas. Olivia sat down and found herself looking at the flowers rather than Rolland.

“Second thoughts, Olivia?” he asked, sitting beside her.

Her gaze darted upward and met his. “No. No second thoughts. You?”

Rolland sucked in a deep breath that expanded his shoulders, making him appear even more magnificently handsome than ever. For just the briefest second, Olivia was consumed by a wave of guilt she didn’t want to try to understand.

She should tell him about Damien. Should be honest with him before he announced their betrothal. Before the world found out Damien was still alive, and Rolland would forever question why she’d married him.

“No, Olivia. I’m not having second thoughts.”

Rolland stood with his back to her. “I won’t lie to you and tell you I’ll never think of Felicity again, or continue to miss her. But I’ve mourned her long enough. It’s time I got on with my life. I’m ready to marry. Ready to begin again.”

He turned to face her, his gaze not leaving her face. “But I’m not sure you are.”

Olivia looked down at her hands, clenched in her lap.

“Something’s wrong, Olivia. I’ve known it for days. Since the reading of your father’s will. Are you sure there’s nothing I can help you with?”

Olivia’s heart leaped to her throat. This was her opportunity to tell him. Her perfect chance, and it would only take a few words.

Damien’s alive and he wants to marry me.

Olivia opened her mouth to say them, and closed it. How could she explain to Rolland the reason she couldn’t marry the man she’d always loved? How could she expect Rolland to understand she was choosing friendship over love?

She couldn’t. She didn’t have the words to make him understand.

“No. I’m fine.”

“Would you rather I wait to make the announcement? It doesn’t have to be tonight, you know.”

Her heart thundered in her breast. She couldn’t imagine waiting any longer. Couldn’t imagine risking that Damien would find out.

“No,” she said hurriedly. “I’d rather we make the announcement tonight.”

A frown darkened Rolland’s face. “Very well.”

She reached for his hands and held them. “I’m just being silly, Rolland. I want to marry you. Truly, I do. And I’m looking forward to starting a life with you.” She kept her fingers clasped with his and offered him a warm smile.

“Then we’d best go back in.”

Rolland held out his arm and she rose to take it. Olivia walked back into the ballroom at Rolland’s side. Where she intended to be for the rest of her life.

The crowd had grown even larger, if that were possible, and Olivia went with Rolland to the far side of the room where Prudence stood with a group of acquaintances.

“This dance set is almost over,” he whispered in her ear as they weaved their way through the people. “I’ll make the announcement just after. Unless you tell me differently.”

He was giving her one more chance. Olivia looked back over her shoulder and smiled. “I won’t.”

Olivia felt Rolland’s hand press more possessively at the small of her back. She filled her lungs with a deep, fortifying breath. She was doing the right thing. She had to believe she was. Or maybe she was doing the only thing she could. It hardly mattered. The end result would be the same. She would be Rolland’s wife. Not Damien’s. Damien would have the ships and be rid of her.

Olivia fought the tightening in her chest. They would both be happy. Just not with each other.

Olivia lifted her gaze to Rolland. She tried to look happy. Truly she did. And she would have been successful except . . .

The music had stopped.

Rolland reached for her hand and gave her fingers a gentle squeeze, then excused himself. With his head high and shoulders back, he headed toward the dais where the orchestra was set up.

Blood roared in Olivia’s head with each step he took and the room spun around her.

Olivia forced herself to stay quiet instead of yelling for him to stop.

She couldn’t breathe. Instead of the excitement she’d experienced the night her father had announced her betrothal to Damien, she was consumed by an overwhelming sense of doubt. How could she do this to Rolland? How could she marry him when she knew she could never love him?

He walked up the two steps and turned around to face the crowd. Slowly, person by person, they gave him their attention and the room was silent.

“Ladies and gentlemen, if I may?”

There was the soft shuffling of feet and the gentle swishing of satin skirts as everyone shifted positions so they could see him. Rolland waited a little while longer to give his interruption import.

Olivia felt the tension mount. Felt her panic grow.

“I have an announcement to make. A very special announcement.”

Someone at the other end of the room hollered, “Here, here, Rotham. About time!”

When the cheers and applause died, Rotham continued. “I know this announcement is a long time in coming, but making a decision this important is like choosing a bottle of fine wine. It cannot be done in a hurry. And so,” he said, sweeping his gaze over the room, “it is with the greatest pleasure that I announce that I have found the rarest of all—”

He stopped.

“Go on, Rotham,” someone yelled from the crowd. “Don’t be shy.”

But he didn’t go on. Instead, his eyes locked on something at the top of the stairs behind her. Then, ever so slowly he shifted his gaze to Olivia.

A growing eruption of muffled pandemonium broke out around her.

“Olivia?”

Olivia felt a hand on her arm, heard Prudence call her name, but she couldn’t give Prudence her attention. All she could do was concentrate on Rolland and fight to keep from being swallowed by the din of gasps and shouts that swelled as the guests turned to look to the top of the stairs.

Olivia didn’t look. She couldn’t bring herself to. She knew what she’d see.

“Oh, Olivia.”

Olivia gasped for air as her body was sucked into her worst nightmare. She knew who everyone was gaping at in shock. Knew from the look of disbelief on Rolland’s face that he was living the same tragedy as she.

“Turn around, Olivia,” Prudence said, clasping her fingers around Olivia’s arm.

Olivia knew Prudence was trying to comfort her, but there was no comfort to be found. She knew Prudence thought Olivia would be ecstatic to know the man to whom she’d once been betrothed was still alive, but she wouldn’t be. There would be nothing but an unimaginable chain of horrific events the minute she acknowledged the man everyone was staring at.

Olivia didn’t turn around. She was too focused on Rolland. Too focused on the words he would never say. The words that if never spoken would change the rest of her life.

“Turn around, Olivia.”

This time Prudence’s voice was a more forceful command instead of a gentle whisper.

Olivia gave Rolland one last glance. Instead of the proud look he’d worn before, his expression had hardened. There was a cold look of wide-eyed disbelief that told her he knew now what she should have told him in the garden, what she’d tried to tell him. And she knew he’d never forgive her for leaving it unsaid.

She moved from the mixed look of embarrassment and anger on his face to the ashen complexion of Prudence’s and knew it was too late to fix anything.

The room quieted, and still Olivia wasn’t brave enough to turn around.

She kept her gaze focused on Rolland, on the confusion she saw on his face from the furrows on his forehead to the narrowing of his eyes. Then she saw deep inside him. He stood before her like an open book, vulnerable and exposed before the world. She saw the hurt, the embarrassment, the betrayal.

When she could look at him no longer, she closed her eyes and turned around.

Her gaze locked with Damien’s, his expression closed and unreadable. He was dressed in formal, black evening attire, and her breath caught when she looked at him. If anything, he was more breathtakingly handsome than ever.

Only now he sported a scar that ran down the left side of his face.

He towered above them with his hands at his sides and his legs braced wide. His satin shirt and cravat shone snowy white against his bronzed complexion. He held himself with regal stillness, his back straight, his chin lifted proudly, and his demeanor stoic and aloof. He’d cut his hair, the rich mahogany she’d always ached to run her fingers through gleaming beneath the hundreds of candles lighting the ballroom.

Olivia fought the effect he had on her and let her gaze scan his towering length. His massive height was daunting; the high, rigid cut of his cheekbones and the chiseled angle of his jaw emphasized his strength. Every separate part of him combined to make him more formidable than ever.

He stood as was his habit since he’d come back, with his face turned at a slight angle so the left side of his face was obscured from view. Olivia wondered what he would do now. There was no way he could hide his scar from so many people. No way he could shield himself from the mass of people that crowded the ballroom, staring at him. And in the next breath, she found out.

Damien slowly turned his head, breaking contact with her for the first time, scanning the room from the left to the right, giving every person there a clear view of his face.

Olivia listened to the gasps of shock, the sighs, the sharp intakes of breath. Muffled voices whispered Damien’s name throughout the ballroom, and Olivia felt a thousand eyes bore in on her. Everyone waited with bated breath to see her reaction, to witness the display of emotion, as if watching the drama of a play unfold.

Olivia wished swooning were in character for her, but it wasn’t. She was left to face whatever would happen with her eyes wide open and a show of bravery she far from felt. And she was suddenly consumed with fury. All of which was directed at Damien.