Chapter 18
Her heart walked away from her, down to the sea loch. She desperately wanted to throw herself to the ground and wail. Much to her good fortune, she was made of sterner stuff.
It was incredibly tempting to chase him, her heart. To demand he reveal his reasons for suddenly turning into the very type of man she had no wish to know.
The shock of it had been intense. When he had turned to her and said unyieldingly that he would not let her accompany him to Egypt, she was completely taken aback.
Did he think he was already her lord and master?
No. She knew he didn’t. Fear. Fear had sparked in his eyes.
So, though many would have told him to go to the devil and never see hide nor hair of him again, she knew that he was being driven by something dark.
He had held her hand in her shadows. Now, it was her turn to wait and hold his. If he would let her. And that was the great question. For she couldn’t force him to confide in her or take her help.
If he couldn’t, their marriage? Their marriage would be over before either of them had even said I do.
That thought shuddered through her with a terrible pain.
She had been so sure she’d found happiness. Now, it was, to say the least, uncertain.
Determinedly, she turned to her mare and clasped the reins of Damian’s stallion. She wasn’t willing to leave the beast here, in case he forgot in his state and didn’t come back for it.
So, she mounted up and guided the stallion just beside her as they galloped back towards the castle.
With every hoofbeat, she felt her heart throb. Throb with the realization that nothing and no one was perfect. Not even the man she loved.
Just as she was about to canter over the bridge, she spotted her brother.
He took one look at her. His face turned dangerous and he said with a deadly quiet, “So, I’ll be killing him, lass.”
“Only torture,” she said lightly, though tears threatened and her throat tightened.
“The bastard,” her brother gritted, his gloved hands curling into fists. “I’ll see him dead before nightfall.”
“Och, Brother, recall,” she instructed, “if murder is necessary I’ll be the one doing it.”
Given that they’d threatened her husband, this was a most macabre conversation. Yet, she wasn’t quite above believing that her brother might do another man mischief to protect her.
She knew he’d never recovered from the way their mother died. He was convinced if he’d just been a little older, he could have saved her.
“Where is the man?” Angus demanded, scanning the hills for sight of the Englishman.
“I’ve no idea. Perhaps, he’s walked off a cliff.”
“It would save me a good deal of effort.”
She scowled. “I love him, damn it.”
“Och, lass,” her brother, replied. “I know. Why do ye think I’m going to hurt him? I kenned ye had feelings for him. I only hoped they were passing. I could see, here in the Highlands, ye both had more than lust in yer eyes for each other. Now, why the devil has he gone and made a botch of it?”
“I’m no’ certain.” She closed her eyes for a moment, girding herself for the painful hours ahead. “Let’s go in.”
“Should I go find him?” her brother queried suddenly and in complete earnestness. “Make sure he doesna wander into an abyss?”
“He crossed Asia and North Africa,” she pointed out. “I think he will survive the Highlands.”
Her brother snorted. “Foolish arse.”
“Aye. Now, let’s wait for him to wander in.”
Angus lifted his gaze to hers, a lifetime of misfortune between them. “And if he doesna come back, lass?”
Lifting her chin, she said determinedly, “Then ye and I are going to Naples.”
“Aye, lass,” he said kindly. “That we will.”
She hated seeing the sympathy on his face but, this time, she knew she hadn’t chosen a bad man. Lord Damian Peterboro was a fine a man as the world could make and she wouldn’t let the fear she’d seen in him make her forsake him.
Not until she’d at least given him a chance to reform.
But if he did not, she knew what she’d have to do.
The idea that he might not? It sent a dark shiver down her spine, leaving her in dread of a life without the blunt man who always said exactly what was on his mind, come what may.
Except, it seemed, when it came to something like this.
Now, she could only hope he’d return and explain what demon he was dancing with.
The sun setting over the Highland hills left streaks of yellow, lavender, and darkest blue across the sky. Even now, he could make out the first dancing stars.
The castle, much like a giant dragon, dominated the curve of the loch which was, at present, surrounded by fog.
He was being a coward.
It had been a damned long walk back and he’d had a good deal of time to think.
How the hell had he let that mad beast inside him loose? It was something he had always controlled. With Jamilah, he had learned to live in peace with it.
Fear had teased it out again.
Once, after the death of his beloved sister and the horrors he’d seen of the results of his country’s deeds, he’d cut himself off from society.
And that was what he was trying to do again, in a way. He was trying to cut himself off from pain.
At long last, he headed down the hillside, crossed the stone bridge, and strode up the castle steps. Immediately, he started to search her out. And for some reason, he felt drawn to the place where they had first kissed. Perhaps she would be there, surrounded by books, taking solace.
“I knew you were a dodgy character,” John called from the library door as he approached.
He groaned. “Not you.”
“Oh yes.” John grinned with apparent delight. “Now, come in.”
Damian narrowed his eyes. “I thought you said I was a dodgy character. Should you wish my company?”
“Dodgy characters are my favorite.”
Much to his annoyance, he stalked forward and followed the Earl of Mooreland into the library.
Much to his disappointment, she was nowhere to be seen.
“She’s in war council,” John said, leaning against the fireplace mantel.
“I beg your pardon?”
John twirled a hand. It wasn’t a feminine gesture. At least not on Mooreland. “Over whatever dastardly deed you’ve done.”
He looked away, his entire body tense. “I deserve it.”
“Do you?” John studied his cuticles. “Whatever did you do, dear boy? You seem such a novice in nefarious deeds.”
“I’m not your dear boy,” he countered, his voice hard. “And before I could stop myself, I said I could not let her accompany me to Egypt.”
“I see.” John blinked. “And, of course, you remedied your asinine decree.”
If only he had, none of this mess would be occurring. “I did not. I repeated it.”
John tsked. “I thought you smarter than that.”
“So did I.” Apparently, he was going to have to reassess both his intelligence and his logic.
Gazing heavenward, John declared, “We are fools when with the women we love.”
“How do you know I love her?” Damian challenged. He was not entirely sure how he felt that Mooreland seemed to understand him so well.
John merely arched a brow.
Damian sighed. “The fact I love her? It’s why I can’t let her go.”
John’s eye twitched. “That word you keep using.”
Damian shook his head. “Which one?”
“Let,” John drawled exaggerating the t. “It will see you hanged by women such as the ones we love. You do not own her. You do not control her. So how can you let her do anything? You can advise her. You can counsel her. But the moment you let her do something, you have become her owner. Are you intending to be her owner?”
He groaned. “This was never really something I’d truly considered before. This ownership of a wife. You see, my wife in Egypt? She was the most free woman I had ever met. Wild even. And if she’d so chosen, she could have divorced me if I displeased her. I forget the laws here are so strict. I have no desire to own her. I would never forgive myself if I tried.”
“Damned glad to hear it.” John folded his arms over his chest, nodding with approval. “Now, how will we fix this?”
Damian merely stared at the earl who, clearly intelligent, seemed a touch mad. “Why do you wish to help me?”
“I find I have become a romantic since my own marriage. Also, I like you.” John’s overly dramatic light turn of a phrase turned serious. “That bit with the fox. It’s an indication you’re a very good sort.”
The approval was nice, but it didn’t counter the hellish sensation attempting to grip him. “But what if—”
John threw up a hand and glared. “What if the moon is made of cheese or wishes were made from horses, or I was the heir of my father and not the bastard son?”
John’s blithe and quick repartee set his teeth on edge for he longed to deny such bantering regarding his fear. Only, John was right. If only was a phrase of those who feared or had deep regret. He’d never thought he was either.
“She could die there,” he bit out.
“She could die here,” John retorted evenly.
“Is that meant to make me feel better?”
John grew quiet and then he said firmly but softly, “My mother died in a one room pit. A once beautiful, educated woman, she died of disease and neglect. Women do die in London every day. Even here in the Highlands I warrant, and not quiet and old in their beds.”
The wrenching truth of those words rang like a bell in his head. Still. . . “Why are you saying this?”
“Because you are going to kill your chance at happiness because you are afraid of losing it,” John gritted, enunciating every word thoroughly.
“That paradox is most upsetting.”
“It is not meant to be easy.” John drew in a breath then pulled on his waistcoat. “Since we’ve established you have no wish to own her and that you understand death is everywhere, I suggest you go find her. And take yourself in hand, man. You traversed continents. You can see that she is the only choice for you. . . If you wish for a happy future, that is. And she must go with you, for that is her happiness, too.”
Damian let out a shuddering sigh, a breath of pain and sorrow and fear that he had been holding for years. “I want to knock you flat, but your sense is impossible to ignore.”
“I’m aware.”
“You’re as impossible as me, are you not?”
“More so. Now, off you go,” John said waving him towards the door. “She’s in Clyde’s study.”
As John left the library, Damian felt quite at sea and not entirely sure what had just happened.
Still, the words that John had spoken rang through his head. She could die here.
And if he lived in such fear of her death abroad, he’d have to be just as afraid here. For life was precarious in any corner of the globe. One had to admit it.
He wasn’t willing to live in fear. That was no life at all.
He mounted the stairs quickly. Driven to find her. When he found himself before Clyde’s mammoth, oak, study door, he pounded on it. He was here for business and he wasn’t going to be tentative.
“Enter,” Clyde called, his burr particularly thick.
A sign the man was ripe with emotion.
He pushed the heavy door open.
He didn’t even spot Clyde. Instead, his gaze went straight to her, sitting before the massive, stone fireplace.
His heart pounded in his chest as he spotted her clear distress.
Her beautiful, pale hands gripped the chair arms and her face was pale.
He had done that. With his fear, he’d caused her pain.
“Forgive me,” he called.
“No,” she replied immediately, barely turning to look at him.
“No?” his heart sank.
“Certainly no’,” she replied, now twisting in the chair to lock gazes with him. “For we have no’ even discussed what is to be forgiven, man. Now, come in.”
Ruler of men, indeed, and he loved it. It gladdened his heart that she was not a wilting rose but a fierce thistle.
He crossed the threshold.
“Out, Brother,” she said, her voice deep with feeling.
Clyde paused but then he gave a small bow of his head. “I willna be far.”
She nodded.
They waited in silence until Clyde departed. But as the duke crossed the large room, he gave Damian a stare that would have terrified a lesser man.
“Well?” she asked as the door shut behind her brother. “Are we to be friends and lovers?”
It was hardly the question he’d thought to hear. He’d expected anger. Fury, even. Or, perhaps, even an intent to end their engagement. “I hope so.”
“Can ye tell me what happened?” she asked evenly.
Could he? He had to. He’d asked her to tell him her story. How could he keep this now from her? Even so. “It is not easy for me to remember.”
“The past is a cruel taskmaster,” she agreed without rancor.
“It is.” He dug his fingertips into his palms. “For you see, when you said you wished to be in Egypt with me. . . I thought of the people I have cared about and who have died. I’ve been left alone you see, more than once. I cannot express to you how it feels to be utterly adrift, unanchored.”
Sadness darkened her eyes. “Damian, I’m so sorry.”
“Thank you.” He forced himself to continue now, to say all that he needed to say, lest he live in regret. “And I had begun to feel as if you were my anchor. That you would keep my course and if I lost you, how would I remain afloat in this wicked sea of life? But you are not an anchor, Andromeda. You are a ship as fierce as I am. How could I ask you to cut your sails? To remain in harbor while I go out into the world?”
Tears filled her eyes, glimmering in the firelight. “Ye understand.”
“I do.” Swallowing, he took his courage in hand. “Only, I am afraid. I am truly afraid of losing you.”
Sympathy softened her features but she did not reach out to him yet. “I wish I could assure ye nothing will happen to me.”
His throat tightened and he let out a choked laugh. “No lies between us, eh? John said something similar.”
Her eyes widened. “John?”
“He pointed out that death could befall you here in Scotland or in London at any time.” He shrugged. “Of course, my fear tried to ignore this fact.”
“John is a beam of hope, is he no’?” Andromeda said ruefully. “But he is correct.”
He lowered his head, meeting her gaze. “I still suffer over their losses, you understand.”
“I miss my mother very much. But I do no’ think it affected me the same way yer losses have ye.”
“They shaped me into the man I am,” he whispered. “But you seem to love me?”
Good God, had he just asked her that? How absolutely ridiculous.
“I do love ye,” she confessed. “I love ye with all my heart and mind and soul. But I must be very clear, we canna let our pasts rule us or our fears. Do ye truly wish me as a partner or will ye always try to be in the lead? For I have no wish to follow.”
“I have no wish to be alone, in front, soldering into the unknown,” he said with utter conviction. “I want you by my side, facing whatever is on the horizon, good or bad. And I will take what comes. And when we go to Egypt together and you stand before the Great Pyramids at Giza, I will remind myself that that day is the only day that matters. . . Just as this day and this moment is the only one that matters now.”
He swallowed and crossed to her. Slowly, he knelt before her. “Marry me? Let us share our lives together.”
Relief and joy swept over her features. She took his hands in her own. “I will. Day by day. I will. We shall be there for each other whenever we are afraid or suffering. We shall be each other’s strength. And I, for one, canna wait.”