Betrayed by Your Kiss (19 page)

She removed the towels from one leg with a snap. “Well, it’s not going to work. I was young and naïve, and I’d just heard the man I was supposed to marry had fathered another woman’s child and was marrying me for my father’s shipping company. I reacted exactly as any other nineteen-year-old would have reacted, with shock and disbelief.”

Before he could argue, she poured something over his flesh. It was cool and made his flesh tingle.

“What is that?”

“It’s an ointment Johns gave me. He said it will soothe your muscles.”

Damien jerked his head up to look at her. “Johns works with the horses, Olivia.”

“So he does.”

She put her hands on his flesh and began the painful kneading of his calves and thighs. Damien let his forehead drop back onto his forearms and sucked in a harsh breath.

“Who do you most suspect of trying to kill you?” she asked without a hesitation in her movements.

“Your cousin.”

She paused. “Yes, he’s the most obvious candidate.”

“Your cousin is buried in debts, and with me back from the dead, he’s lost any hope of paying them off.”

She continued massaging his legs, bending and stretching them, lifting and pulling each one until he gasped for breath. Damn, but she didn’t know what she did to him.

Then she rubbed the muscles high on his thighs and he clenched his teeth. She moved her fingers far to the inside of his leg. He bit down hard and moaned. Ah, hell.

“So what do you intend to do about him?” she asked.

“I have men watching the house, as you already know. And Captain Durham is searching for him. There aren’t too many places he can hide.”

“Aren’t there?”

She stopped rubbing his legs. Thank heavens.

“You can turn over now.”

He didn’t want to. Knew keeping his distance would be that much harder when he looked her in the eyes.

“Turn over, Damien. I’m tired and want to go to bed.”

Damien turned, and he was right. It was harder.

The minute he rolled over on his back he was forced to look up into her face. Her brown eyes were darker than before, her mahogany hair a richer shade of coffee, her creamy complexion flushed from exertion. Ah, hell.

He knew there were two kinds of pain in the world.

Then she touched him and he realized there were three.

She performed each step of the process, laying the steaming towels across his legs, then removing them. Pouring the cool, tingly ointment over his skin and massaging it in. Her touch drove him to distraction and he wasn’t brave enough to look into her eyes any longer.

He lowered his gaze from her face and froze at the sight of her breasts moving beneath her loose gown. He could almost feel their heaviness. And knew that with a flick of his fingers, he could unfasten the buttons to her gown and free them.

As if his hands had a will of their own, they reached out, his fingers wrapping firmly around her neck. She clasped her hands around his wrists and held him firm.

“You’re not going to win this battle you’ve waged,” she whispered, locking her gaze with his and refusing to let him go.

“Are you sure?”

“Oh, yes,” she said, bringing her face closer to his. “Because I can’t let you.”

Damien pulled her nearer and she came willingly. She lowered her head and kissed him on the mouth, her lips touching his, her breathing melding with his.

His need was a frightening thing and he despised himself for his weakness. He deepened his kisses, delving into her warm, moist mouth until he met the treasure he searched for. A thousand explosions rocked his world, and he kissed her until they were both panting and breathless.

He wanted her. He needed her.

His heart thundered in his chest, his desire to have her was a mind-shattering explosion that rocked the earth from its axis.

He turned his head and ended the kiss.

This wasn’t the way he’d intended things to happen. Loving her again wasn’t part of the plan. With fierce determination, he concentrated on her betrayal and how it had nearly destroyed him, and he hardened his resolve. He would have what should have been his four years ago without sacrificing his heart.

He took a deep breath and rolled away from her. “Enough. I’ve had enough.”

She pulled away from him and stepped to the door. He stopped her with words he was sure she didn’t want to hear. “We’ll marry day after tomorrow, Olivia.”

She stopped with her hand on the doorknob. Her gaze flew to his face. Her eyes were wide with—

He sucked in a painful breath. He’d seen sailors with less terror on their faces when battling for their lives in the midst of a raging storm.

Her jaw clenched. “I have five days. You can’t make me marry you for five more days.”

His blood ran cold. “Make you? I’m not forcing you to marry me, Olivia. Your father did that when he wrote that stipulation into his will.”

Her face paled and her hands trembled when she clutched the handle on the door.

“But I still have five more days.”

Damien tried to keep the niggling anger from building inside him. What miracle did she expect to happen in five days? “I refuse to give you any more time.”

With a sigh of frustration, she opened the door, and left him without a glance back.

Chapter 22

One day.

All she had was one day.

Olivia pushed away the stack of shipping papers she’d brought home to work on and rubbed her fingers against her throbbing temples. Heaven help her, but loving Damien hurt.

Every day since he’d returned, she’d hoped things between them would change. Prayed he could bring himself to tell her—

Tell her what? That he loved her?

Olivia dried a traitorous tear that seeped from beneath her lashes. She knew the wall around his heart was thick. Knew the barrier he’d put up to protect his emotions was too firmly in place. With an insight that left her breathless and aching, she knew he would always have the power to hurt her, the power to make her suffer for her doubt. For her decision to send him away where he’d be safe.

And she knew, until he cared for her enough to risk loving her, there was no hope for them. A life together without love was not one worth living.

But if she didn’t marry him, she’d lose the ships.

Olivia thought of losing the
Lady’s Mist
, the
Conquest
, the
Viking
, and the
Princess Anne
,
and the vice clamped around her heart tightened until she couldn’t breathe. But what choice did she have? She could spend the rest of her life married to Damien, knowing he would never love her, but at least she’d have her father’s ships. Or, she could walk away from Damien and the shipping company.

Either choice was unthinkable, but Damien had left her with no other option.

Olivia slid back her chair and rose when she heard Damien’s voice from beyond the door. She didn’t want to face him, didn’t want to see the impassive expression on his face, as if seeing her meant nothing.

The door opened, then closed with a soft thud.

It was funny how she could feel his presence, how she knew he was in the room without looking at him. How the air was suddenly alive and that place inside her where her heart rested moved like the swell of the tide onto shore. She took a steadying breath and turned.

She didn’t quite trust her voice to speak. But he just looked at her like he always did, as if evaluating how she’d changed since he’d been gone. As if trying to come to terms with his dislike for her.

Well, she would let him look. Because she had changed. She was stronger now and didn’t see the world through a young girl’s eyes. She didn’t view him through a young lover’s eyes.

“Have you been working on the shipping ledgers all morning?” he said, casting a glance at the papers strewn about on the desk.

“Not all that long.”

“Really? When I asked, Chivers said you were working in here when Cook got up. And she’s always up well before dawn.”

Olivia tried to hold her temper. Arguing would do no good, and with the little sleep she’d gotten last night, she wasn’t sharp enough to match wits with Damien this morning.

“There were a few estate matters that needed taking care of. I—”

“You could have left them for me. I assume they concerned estates for which I am now responsible.”

Olivia felt as if she’d been hit hard in her middle. “Yes, my lord. They are, of course, now yours again. How remiss of me.”

“That’s not what I meant, Olivia. I just don’t want you going without sleep to take care of concerns I can now handle.”

Olivia’s smile was tight. She thought her life had changed when her father died, but that was nothing compared to the radical change that would occur when she married Damien and her life consisted of nothing more than teas and balls and planning dinner parties. She couldn’t imagine anything worse. Not after the challenges of running several estates as well as Pellingsworth Shipping. She wasn’t sure she could return to a life so mundane. She wasn’t sure she could stand to be excluded from doing the things she’d done for the last four years.

She tried to shake off the dread that settled over her. But it was hard. “Perhaps you would like me to review the books with you. Or don’t you think that is necessary?”

“Yes, of course. But that isn’t what I want to talk about right now.” He pointed to the sofa. “Please, sit down for a minute.”

Olivia walked to the sofa and sat.

“I sent a note to the Reverend Dunlevey informing him our wedding would take place tomorrow afternoon at two o’clock. I hope you don’t mind the lateness of the hour, but the
Commodore
is sailing on the morning tide, and Captain Durham wants to be there when she sails.”

Olivia’s heart raced, its frantic pounding so hard she couldn’t think. “Does he anticipate a problem?”

“There’s always a possibility. Especially with Richard still out there. The
Commodore
has been heavily guarded, so Captain Durham and I don’t anticipate danger, but one never knows. Captain Russell will go to Bordeaux for the last shipment of wine. Captain Durham will be here for our wedding. I know how important it is for him to be with you.”

Olivia sat there numbly while Damien outlined the following day’s events.

“. . . anyone else you’d like to have attend, Olivia?”

“What?”

“Is there anyone else you’d like to have attend our wedding?”

She shook her head.

“Very well. Then—”

Olivia felt a cold shiver of dread race up and down her spine. “Did you ever love me, Damien?”

“Oh, yes, Olivia. Before I learned that love was a weakness. Before I knew what it meant to have the person with whom you wanted to spend the rest of your life choose freedom over you.”

“Is that what you thought I did?”

She thought she heard him laugh. Only it wasn’t a laugh that held any humor. His next words proved it.

“Nearly dying taught me a very valuable lesson. I’m not strong enough to survive loving you again.”

Olivia felt as if she’d been punched in the gut. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t catch her breath. Damien didn’t give her the chance to. “I spent four years preparing for this day, Olivia. Four years dreaming of having everything that was taken away from me. You, the ships, the estates. Everything. And now I will have it all. Especially you.”

“But without love,” she said, her heart in her throat.

“As I said, I’m not strong enough to survive a love like that again. But,” he said, walking to the window and looking out into the flower garden, “there’s something else I wanted to talk to you about.”

He turned to face her with an expression that brooked no argument. “Until I’ve dealt with your cousin, I want your promise that you’ll stay indoors and not leave the house.”

Olivia studied the serious look on his face and knew he made his demand out of concern for her welfare. If she understood anything from what he’d just said, it was that in some way, he did care for her.

“I have no intention of going out today, Damien. You don’t have to worry on my account.”

“Good. Then perhaps we can spend some time going over what I missed while I was gone.”

There was a softness to Damien’s features, and she was reminded of how he used to look at her. When he still loved her.

Olivia looked away to keep him from seeing how much those looks still meant to her. A knock on the door saved her from revealing too much of herself. Chivers entered, carrying a small silver tray.

“A messenger just delivered this from Captain Durham, my lord. He said it was important.”

Damien reached for the message and opened it. His face turned serious.

“I have to go.”

He walked to her father’s cabinet against the wall and took a gun from one of the drawers.

Olivia’s heart skipped a beat. “What is it, Damien?”

“Captain Durham spotted Richard at the wharf where the
Commodore
’s docked.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to have a little visit with him.”

Damien tucked the gun in his jacket and headed for the door. Olivia started to follow.

“Take someone with you.”

Damien stopped with his hand on the knob. “Captain Durham’s there. I’ll be fine.”

Olivia fought the niggling fear that consumed her the minute Damien left the room. The same fear she felt the morning Damien went to meet Strathern. She raced across the room and followed him into the foyer.

“Don’t leave the house,” he said, the warning in his voice unmistakable.

“But—”

“No! I don’t want to have to worry about you, too, Olivia. Stay here! I mean it!”

Olivia took a step back and leaned against the table in the center of the room. When the door closed behind him, she returned to her father’s study and sat on the sofa. She clasped her hands in her lap and sat there, listening to the steady ticking of the mantel clock. It was quarter past the hour.

“I took the liberty of bringing tea, my lady,” Chivers said, placing a tray on the table near her. “I thought perhaps it might help.”

Olivia looked at the tea tray and plate of biscuits, then back up to Chivers. “Thank you,” she said, knowing she should pour herself a cup before it turned cold, but not able to find the energy. Chivers did it for her.

“Lord Iversley will be fine, my lady. Captain Durham’s there. He’ll watch out for him.”

“I know, Chivers,” she answered, taking the cup he held out for her. And the clock on the mantel struck half past.

Olivia tried not to stare at it. She knew a watched clock didn’t move, but she couldn’t keep her eyes from returning to the mantel again and again. Before the first half hour had gone by, Chivers opened the door and rushed into the room.

“My lady?”

Olivia knew something was wrong the minute she saw his face. “What is it, Chivers?”

“Captain Durham’s here, my lady. He asked to see Lord Iversley.”

“Captain Durham?”

Olivia stood as Chivers stepped aside to let Captain Durham enter.

“Is something wrong, Olivia? Chivers looked at me like I was the grim reaper himself.”

“Where is he?”

“Where’s who?”

“Damien. Where is he? What’s happened to him?”

Captain Durham looked from her to Chivers, then back to her, and Olivia knew he had no idea what she was talking about.

“Your message,” she said, running to the desk where Damien had dropped the captain’s message. She rushed back across the room and handed it to Captain Durham. “This. You sent this.”

Captain Durham read the message and looked at Olivia, shaking his head. “I didn’t send this. I’ve no idea where your cousin might be. That’s what I came to tell his lordship.”

“It’s a trap. He’s walking into a trap.”

“How long ago did he leave?” Captain Durham asked, already racing out of the room.

“Half an hour ago. The minute he received the message.”

“That’s not so long. I’m sure I can get there in time. Did he take a gun?”

“Yes. He’s armed.”

Olivia raced behind Captain Durham, trying to keep her legs steady beneath her. “My wrap, Chivers.”

Olivia’s words brought both Chivers and Captain Durham to a halt.

“You can’t go with me. Damien would kill me if I brought you.”

“If we don’t hurry, Damien will be dead and it won’t matter.”

“It’s too dangerous, my lady. We don’t know what we’re going to run into and—”

Olivia ignored Captain Durham’s warning and rushed past him, out the door, and into the waiting carriage. Before she’d even situated herself in the seat, he was in the seat opposite her, and the carriage was rumbling down the street.

Thankfully, the captain let them ride in silence, and not until they reached the docks did he issue the order for her to stay inside the carriage, which she ignored.

The minute the carriage stopped, Olivia jumped to the ground and raced to where the
Commodore
was docked. She knew Captain Durham wasn’t far behind. He wasn’t as fast, and she’d soon widened the distance.

She didn’t stop, but looked from the deck of the
Commodore
to the long walkway crowded with crates and barrels and boxes. It was the middle of the morning, and the wharf was packed with sailors and docking crews, loading and unloading ships that were arriving and getting ready to set sail. But Damien was nowhere to be found.

She looked from one end of the wharf surrounding the Pellingsworth Shipping offices to the other, telling herself everything wouldn’t seem so normal if something terrible had happened. She wanted to yell his name, but realized she’d give him away if he were hiding, so she kept quiet. She walked farther down the wharf, then stopped and looked around again.

“Do you see them, my lady?” Captain Durham asked, coming up behind her.

“No. What if he’s already—”

“Don’t even think it. You stay here, and don’t move. I’ll go this way. Damien shouldn’t be too hard to find.”

Olivia watched Captain Durham walk down the alley, but she couldn’t stay where he’d left her. What if Damien had gone the opposite way? Olivia turned and walked down the boardwalk.

No one seemed to notice her except a few dockhands employed by Pellingsworth Shipping, and when she reached the end of the first wharf, she turned to her right. This wasn’t a through alley, but a narrow space between two warehouses that had no exit. She’d only taken a few steps before she saw Damien.

He wasn’t that far away, but a large box blocked her from view so he didn’t notice she’d come up on him. She started to yell a warning, but before she could make a sound, she saw a man she didn’t recognize rise from behind a large wooden crate on Damien’s right. The man lifted his arm and pointed the pistol he had in his hand toward Damien’s chest.

“Damien!”

Olivia rushed forward with her arms outstretched and pushed Damien to the side. Damien spun around and grabbed her as a gunshot echoed in the air.

“Get down!” he yelled, pulling her with him behind a row of crates.

She landed with a jolt. When she looked at him she could see the fury in his eyes. He pushed her deeper into a corner to get her out of the way.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he bellowed, glancing at her with eyes that brimmed with fire.

“It’s a trap, Damien. My cousin sent the message.”

Damien uttered a vile oath, then took a gun from his pocket and peeked around the crate. Another gunshot sent him dodging back. “Where’s Durham?”