Betrayed by Your Kiss (13 page)

“Oh, hell,” Damien said.

“I expect she would have told your mother the truth after your younger sister was safely married. I’m sure she’d want your mother to come to terms with your death—even if she couldn’t herself.”

Damien looked at Durham. “What do you mean by that?”

Captain Durham shook his head. “That’s something you’ll have to figure out on your own.” The captain rose to his feet. “Now, get the hell out of here so I can get some sleep.”

Captain Durham walked past him and climbed into bed. He pulled the covers up over his shoulders and turned his back on Damien. “And douse the lamps before you leave,” he growled.

Damien doused the lamps before leaving the captain. He wasn’t sure if the captain would get any sleep tonight, but Damien knew he wouldn’t.

Chapter 16

Damien stepped out of the carriage the minute it stopped and walked through the door Chivers held open for him.

“I’m afraid Lady Olivia isn’t receiving yet,” he said, as he put Damien’s hat and gloves on the foyer table. “She’s still in her rooms.”

Damien stopped with his hand on the banister. “Did her maid say how she slept?”

“I believe Tilly said the lady had a restless night.”

“I see,” Damien answered.

“She seemed a little upset when she came home last night. Cook sent up a glass of wine to help her sleep.”

Damien clenched his fingers around the railing and slowly climbed the stairs. “Thank you, Chivers. I’ll see myself up. Would you send up a tray with coffee?”

“Yes, my lord.”

Damien climbed the rest of the stairs, then walked down the long hallway. Only when he was sure Chivers could no longer see him did he give into the pain and limp toward his room.

Olivia’s room was the third door to his right, and as if his feet had a will of their own, they didn’t slow until he reached her bedroom door.

He should have let Chivers announce him, but he knew if he had, she’d refuse to see him. He knocked twice, then turned the knob and opened the door.

Damien stepped inside the room and closed the door behind. He found her on the far side of the room, sitting on the cushion inside the recessed window.

At first he didn’t think she intended to speak.

“Did you need something?” Her acerbic tone made the sharpness of her words so caustic he thought they might burn his flesh.

“I came to make sure you were all right.”

“How considerate.”

Damien ignored the sarcasm in her voice and walked across the room. His first step hurt like hell and his left leg buckled slightly beneath him. He gritted his teeth in pain and kept walking. He stopped when he reached her.

She sat on a cushioned window seat with her legs tucked close to her chest and her arms wrapped around her knees. The early morning sunlight filtered through the windowpanes, the bright rays casting a glow to her hair, giving it a golden shimmer. Her complexion was pale; the healthy color she usually wore was gone.

He held his breath and looked into her eyes. At least they didn’t glimmer with unshed tears like he feared they would. He understood her better now. Understood why she’d made the decisions she had. To know she’d been crying would have been more unbearable because the blame would all be his.

She turned her face away from him and looked out the window. “I’ve been expecting you,” she said, lowering her cheek to rest against her knees.

“Is that why you’re hiding here in your rooms instead of waiting to receive me downstairs?”

“I wasn’t going to receive you.”

“I anticipated as much.”

“I wish you’d leave. You shouldn’t be here. It’s not proper.”

“We’re betrothed.”

“No, we’re not.”

Damien smiled. “Oh, but we are.”

Damien heard her heavy sigh before she said, “Do you think because you stopped me from becoming engaged to Rotham that now I’ll be desperate enough to marry you?”

“Were you really going to let Rotham announce your betrothal? For God’s sake, why? You would have lost everything.”

He saw her shoulders lift in a silent sigh. “Perhaps the ships weren’t worth having, since marrying you would have been part of the bargain.”

“You consider marrying me that much of a tragedy?”

“I consider marrying you a farce. A farce in which I wasn’t prepared to play a part.”

Damien felt like he’d been slapped. Even his cheek stung from the impact of her words. The sunlight streaming through the window gave more than enough light for Damien to see the stoic expression on her face. For him to see the hollow look of resignation. She turned her face from him and lowered her cheek to rest on her knees as she again stared out the window. An eon seemed to pass before she spoke.

“Do you think,” she said turning to face him, “that some day it might be possible for you to forgive me, Damien? Or is that too much to hope for?”

Damien felt as if she’d plunged a knife through his chest. Her face was void of expression, her voice steady and calm, while her words, on the surface so innocent, dripped with sarcasm. He felt as if he were truly facing his most formidable enemy, more dangerous—more life-threatening even than Strathern.

He knew her attack for what it was. Recognized the insincerity in her soft words so demurely spoken. She knew he could never forgive her. And if she didn’t, she’d find out once they married. Her question wasn’t sincere. It was a challenge. She was challenging him to forget what she’d done. Challenging him to forgive her. But that would never happen. He hadn’t been the one to strike the first blow. Or the second. She had. When she’d sent him away. When she intended to announce her betrothal to Rotham. Well, he accepted her challenge and vowed to give her the battle of her life.

“You sound as if you think I carry a grudge, Olivia. As if my intent to marry you is to enact some sort of punishment. It’s not. Far from it. Marrying you is merely the only option left to either of us—a business arrangement. I have an obligation to fulfill. Both to your father and to myself. To . . . care for you, as well as your father’s ships and estates.”

“You aren’t obligated to marry me. Father didn’t make that a stipulation of his will. He only stipulated that
I
marry
you
in order to keep Pellingsworth Shipping.”

“I don’t see the difference. Your father didn’t want you to lose Pellingsworth Shipping any more than I do.”

“Of course not. And by marrying me you will have accomplished two lofty goals: your conscience will be clear because of the debt you feel you owe my father for raising you as his son; and I will constantly be near you so you can remind me of my unforgivable betrayal.”

Damien closed his eyes. “Believe what you want, Olivia. What matters is that your father intended for us to marry. If he hadn’t, he wouldn’t have put that stipulation in his will. He would have left Pellingsworth Shipping to you with no strings attached. He knew how much you wanted it. He was evidently quite sure you’d forgive me for letting you believe I was dead.”

“Well, he was wrong.”

“Perhaps partially. But in time . . .”

Damien stopped. He was too tired to think of the future, and his leg ached too much to contemplate the life he and Olivia would face together. There were other, more important things to worry about, such as the identity of the person responsible for all the
accidents
at Pellingsworth Shipping. Until they knew who was trying to cause damage to Pellingsworth Shipping, no one was safe. Especially Olivia.

Damien sat up in his chair and turned toward Olivia. “The
Commodore
arrived in port today. Captain Durham wants to make a thorough check of the cargo before we release it, in case our friend’s been at work again.”

Olivia swung her legs over the side of the bench and leaned forward. A glimmer of excitement shone on her face. “I’ll go with you and—”

“You’re not going to the docks, Olivia. I can check the cargo. I’ll make sure everything’s all right and send word to you.”

“You can’t stop me from going.”

“I can and I will. Have you already forgotten you nearly died by being so reckless?”

Olivia had the good sense to hold her tongue and look at least a little contrite. Damien rose to his feet and stood over her. “I’ll issue an invitation to Captain Durham to call on you as soon as he has time. He’ll only be in port another week before he has to leave again for France. I assume you’ll want him here for our wedding. I’ll get the special license so we can marry without reading the banns, and we’ll say our vows before he leaves.”

Damien saw her shoulders lift. The gown she wore accented the brown of her eyes. He clenched his fingers around the arms of the chair to keep from reaching for her. To keep from touching her.

He pulled his gaze away from her and pushed himself to his feet. His movements were stiff and slow, and he tried to ignore the pain as he stepped away from her. He didn’t like the way his body reacted to her. The urge he felt to take her in his arms, to hold her, touch her, kiss her. The desire he felt for her was a weakness. A weakness that gave her too much power over him. That left him too vulnerable.

Damien clenched his teeth hard. Hadn’t he learned his lesson? Wasn’t the shattered heart that stuttered inside him reminder enough?

He walked to the door and opened it, then turned around to look at her. He saw the angry glare in her gaze and ignored it.

“We need to appear in public so people get used to seeing us together. What function did you plan to attend tonight?”

She didn’t answer.

“Which one, Olivia?”

“The Maddenly ball.”

“Fine. I’ll come for you at five. We’ll take a ride through the park where we’ll be noticed. Then, I’ll return around nine so we can make an appearance at the Maddenly ball.”

“Damien, I won’t—”

He didn’t let her finish her sentence, but stepped out of the room and closed the door behind him.

He needed a drink to dull more than just the pain in his legs.

Chapter 17

The door opened and Olivia looked up from her desk in the makeshift workspace where anything that could be salvaged from the fire at the Pellingsworth Shipping office had been taken. She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw that it was Captain Durham.

She’d come to the wharf shortly after Damien had left the house and had been sorting through piles of papers and half-charred ledgers for more than two hours. She felt as if she’d made very little progress. It was going to take months before she could make sense of some of the scraps of invoices and partially burned bills of lading. Thank goodness she’d taken the most important ledgers home with her the night before the fire, and they’d been spared.

“Here’s the complete cargo inventory from the
Commodore
,” Captain Durham said, closing the door behind him. “The men are doublechecking everything as they unload it, and I put extra guards on duty until the cargo is delivered tomorrow.”

“That was probably wise,” Olivia said, then laid down her pen and reached for the stack of papers he handed her. It was twice as thick as the stack she’d just entered into the ledger. She’d be lucky if she finished in time to rush home and be ready when Damien came to pick her up.

“Did you see any sign of Lord Iversley?” she asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

“No. He was here earlier but left shortly before you came.” There was a slight pause before he added, “That couldn’t have been planned now, could it?”

Olivia lowered her gaze again to the papers in front of her, refusing to let Captain Durham know she’d overheard Damien issue orders to Johns that he wanted to be picked up at precisely ten o’clock because he had an appointment with his solicitor that would probably take until midafternoon.

The captain didn’t move, but stood in front of the desk until Olivia looked up at him.

“This isn’t what your father intended, you know. He was certain when the two of you saw each other, you’d both forget everything that had happened before and realize how much you loved each other.”

Olivia wanted to laugh. “Well, Father was wrong.”

“Give him time, my lady. The last four years weren’t easy for him.”

Olivia shoved back her chair and bolted to her feet. “And they were for me? He let me believe he was dead! He let me believe I was responsible for his death!”

“No! What happened wasn’t your fault. No one thinks that.”

She swallowed hard. “He does!”

“He doesn’t blame you for the fire. He doesn’t blame you for what happened to him.”

“But he can’t forgive me for sending him away.” Olivia stared into Captain Durham’s eyes, then smiled at the confirmation she saw on his face. But she felt no happiness, only complete despair. “You warned me not to put him aboard. You said he wouldn’t thank me for it, but I couldn’t think past the fear. All I could think of was the ten thousand pounds Strathern had put on his head.”

“You should have told him. If he had known—”

“It wouldn’t have mattered. He would have been more determined than ever to stay. He was too proud to run.”

“But at least he would have understood why you sent him away.”

Olivia shook her head. “No. Nothing I could have said or done would have changed his mind. I was so young and scared. I was so afraid I was going to lose him. So afraid one minute he’d be alive and the next he’d be dead. I knew I couldn’t live the rest of my life without him.”

Olivia walked away from the captain so he couldn’t see the hurt on her face. “But I lost him anyway. As irrevocably as if he had died.”

“No, you haven’t,” Captain Durham answered, but there wasn’t the conviction in his voice that made her believe he was right.

“Why did he let me believe he was dead? Why did
you
let me believe he was dead?”

“I had to. He wouldn’t let me tell you the truth.”

“Why?”

Captain Durham breathed deeply. “If you could have seen how badly he’d been hurt, you’d know the answer. When I wrote you that letter informing you Lord Iversley was dead, I honestly believed he was. Then, when I found him, I didn’t think he’d survive. No one did. Not even the doctors.”

“But he did.”

“Yes. He did. And it took him nearly two years before he took his first step.”

Olivia’s stomach lurched. “Two years?”

“Two flaming yardarms fell on him before the ship went down, one across his back—he said you saw the scars the night he was injured—the second across the backs of his legs.”

Captain Durham filled a glass from the decanter on a small side table and lifted it to his mouth. “His legs were burned so badly the doctors wanted to amputate them, but Lord Iversley wouldn’t let them. I agreed with him. He was so close to dying, I couldn’t see putting him through more.”

Captain Durham took another swallow. “I lost track of the times I thought we’d lost him. The pain was so intense, the only way he could handle it was with alcohol and drugs. He lived on laudanum for months.”

“He’s still in pain,” Olivia offered, the knot in her stomach twisting until she thought she might be ill.

Captain Durham nodded. “It’s mostly his legs now. It wasn’t that long ago he couldn’t even walk, and he’s still building strength in them. When he’s on them too much, or overdoes it, the muscles knot.”

“He said you knew what to do to help him.”

“There was a man, a healer of sorts, who the locals considered a miracle worker. He was Chinese, so none of the English would go to him.”

“But you took Damien to him?”

The captain nodded. “The doctors did all they could for Lord Iversley, but the pain was still so bad at times I was afraid he’d—”

“He’d what?” Olivia asked, when Captain Durham stopped.

“Afraid he wouldn’t be able to take it much longer.”

Olivia’s heart skipped a beat. “You were afraid he’d take his own life?”

“There’s a point for each of us when we can’t go on. I was afraid Lord Iversley wasn’t far from reaching that point. So I took him to the healer.”

Olivia sank down on her chair. “Did he help Damien?”

“Yes. I’m not sure exactly what he did, and I wouldn’t expect you to believe all of it if I told you, but the wounds that wouldn’t heal before, slowly healed. And his mind healed as well.”

Captain Durham walked over to the small-paned window on the opposite side of the room and stared out of it. “From the moment he turned the bend toward recovery, he was obsessed with getting home.”

“Father obviously knew he was alive. Why did he keep it from me?”

“Because he knew you’d want to go to him. He knew you’d sail to India on the first ship that left England. And I knew Iversley wasn’t ready to face you.”

“He hated me that much?”

“He was still too angry and hurt to know what he felt. And still in too much pain.” Captain Durham took another sip from his glass. “Then news came that your father had died, and there was no stopping him from returning to London.”

Olivia sat back down and reached for the pen on the stack of papers in front of her. She gripped it until her fingers ached. “So he could claim everything he thought I’d taken from him.”

Captain Durham turned back toward her. “That’s not the only reason, my lady. This is his home. It’s where he belongs. It’s where you are.”

Olivia couldn’t hide the look of surprise. “I hardly think I was the reason he was so eager to come home, except perhaps to exact punishment for all the pain and suffering I’d caused him.”

Captain Durham paused. “I’m not going to lie to you by telling you what happened between you and Lord Iversley didn’t affect him. It did. But he loves you. He always has.”

How she wished she could believe the captain. How she wished she could feel a glimmer of hope that Damien could ever love her again. But nothing made sense where she and Damien were concerned. And with each confrontation, he drove her further away from him.

Olivia shifted the papers on the top of the desk. She’d worried enough about Damien. She’d let him consume every waking hour, and it was time she thought of something else. Something she could control. Like who had started the fire and wanted to drive her out of Pellingsworth Shipping.

“Do you have any idea who might be trying to discredit Pellingsworth Shipping, or sabotage our shipments?”

Captain Durham shook his head and crossed his thick arms over his massive chest. “I wish I did. I’d hang the reprobate from the tallest yardarm and let the birds pick his bones clean.”

Olivia tried to keep the smile from her face, but her lips lifted at the corners. Then her expression froze when the door flew open. It hit the wall with such force it nearly took the door from its hinges.

Damien stood in the opening, his face creased with anger, his stance as formidable as an avenging warrior’s. Fury invaded the room. It pushed through the open doorway in a great rush that enveloped her like a heavy cloak. Even Captain Durham stepped to the side to give way to Damien’s temper.

“What the hell are you doing here? I told you to stay home. You’re not safe here.”

Olivia stood on legs that trembled beneath her but refused to back down. “I wasn’t aware you had the right to tell me where I could go or where I had to stay.”

“Don’t start that. Not now. You know damn well you’re not safe—”

“What I know
damn well
, is that for ten more days, Pellingsworth Shipping is mine. I am responsible for it as I have been from the day my father died. I am also accountable to no one for my actions. I alone will determine where I go and when. You, Lord Iversley, may issue orders as long and as feverishly as you’d like, but I am under no obligation to listen to them or abide by them.”

Olivia watched Damien’s features turn even harsher. Even Captain Durham must have felt the tension because he took another step away from the desk and quietly left the room.

Damien stared at her for several long, interminable seconds, each one stretching to what seemed hours. Olivia fought to keep her composure. For weeks she’d been tossed about in an emotional wind tunnel. The stability she counted on to maintain her equilibrium had been ripped from her grasp, leaving only confusion and frustration in its wake. And the cause of her turmoil stood before her, glaring at her with an expression riveted with censure and disbelief. Olivia wasn’t sure whether she wanted to run to him or run away. So she clutched the edge of the thick, oak desktop and prayed it was enough of a barrier to protect her from herself as well as him.

Olivia watched Damien’s shoulders drop as his virulent temper lost its fury. When he spoke, she heard a blatant tone of regret in his voice.

“What has happened to you, Olivia?”

Olivia sucked in an angry breath of air. “I have become what you made me.”

He shook his head, and one strand of dark hair dropped onto his forehead. Olivia wanted to reach out and push it back. She wanted to thread her fingers through his hair like she’d done years ago with such inexperienced naiveté. The coldness in his voice stopped her.

“I didn’t turn you into what you have become.”

“And what is that, Damien? What is there about me you do not like? My independence? The fact that I have a mind of my own and use it? Or is it that I have removed you from that lofty pedestal where mere mortals couldn’t compete with you? That I no longer look at you with stars in my eyes and open adoration on my face?”

Olivia stormed around the corner of the desk and stood toe-to-toe with him. “For four years I mourned you. I took care of the properties you’d left unattended, because it was the only way I could feel a connection to you. And when Father became so ill he couldn’t leave the house, I ran Pellingsworth Shipping as well as your estates.”

Olivia clenched her fists and glared at him. “Yes, I’ve changed, Damien. Do you honestly think that shallow, love-struck female you were going to marry could have managed seven estates and an entire shipping fleet without changing? All that was important to me when I thought you would always be there to take care of me were the latest fashions and which ball I was going to attend. So,” she said, drying her damp cheeks with her fingertips, “if you don’t like what I’ve become, you do not have to connect yourself with me. There’s a ship sailing at dawn. You’re welcome to leave anytime you—”

Before she could finish the sentence, Damien clasped her by the upper arms and covered her mouth with his.

His kiss was harsh and demanding. As if he were punishing her for another injustice he thought she’d committed. As if kissing her was the only way he could exert his control over her.

His kisses contained no passion, only dominance. It was as if she’d affected some baser part of him, and he wanted to chastise her for it. As if he wanted to destroy her independence and the woman she’d become.

Olivia knew she should fight him, knew she should struggle to escape his grasp, but she didn’t. She couldn’t. She wanted to be held in his arms. She was desperate to feel his towering strength pushing against her. Desperate to feel his touch sear her flesh.

He deepened his kiss, all the while moving his hands over her. He ran his fingers across her shoulders and down her back. He wrapped his arms around her as if afraid she might escape his grasp, then moved his hands over her arms again.

His hands spanned her waist, then his fingers began their movement around her, over her, stopping only when they covered her breasts.

A strangled moan echoed in her ears, whether hers or his she couldn’t tell, didn’t care. The rasps of their breathing were a foreign sound that thundered in unison, one gasp meshing with another. And she wrapped her arms around Damien’s neck and gave in to him.

He deepened his kisses, opening his mouth atop hers, demanding she grant him entrance, forcing her to yield to him. And she did. Not because she had no choice, but because she didn’t want another choice. She couldn’t deny him something she was so desperate to have. Something she’d craved from the first time he’d kissed her.

Olivia hated herself for her weakness. Hated herself for yielding with such abandon.

His tongue entered her mouth with the determination of a conquering army, touching the innermost reaches of her mouth, battling with her, then mating with her. A thousand fiery spirals swirled to the pit of her stomach, churning and churning until her legs weakened beneath her. And he kissed her again.