She loved Dare. She knew it was irrational, but that was the truth. She knew her family and friends didn’t understand her lifelong devotion to a man who rarely paid her any mind at all. But it wasn’t as though she’d had a line of suitors vying to woo her.
More importantly, they didn’t appreciate his finer points. He’d been a devoted friend to William for years. He’d saved his life, for goodness sake.
To her, he had appeared to be the perfect man—handsome, strong, and controlled—confident of his place in the world. She had always envied him that.
Now, she realized it was all an act. He had no control or confidence. His father’s abuse had caused an anger and resentment so deep, he would never be able to trust her or anyone.
She wanted to help him heal, but he would never let that happen. He hated her, thinking she, too, had betrayed him. That was why he was acting so cold. To punish her.
The worst thing was, she now craved him more. The things he did to her, the way he made her feel—it was unimaginable. Even thinking about it made her flush. She could almost smell his scent on her. Feel his hands running over her skin, his fingers stroking her throbbing core. And his lips…now she knew why women were always twittering about his lips. They trailed fire down her skin. How could she live without ever feeling his touch again?
She would have to. He thought she betrayed him. He would never forgive her. Never forget. They would never be together.
She closed her eyes in defeat. Tired from a restless night sleep, despair swirling through her head, it didn’t take long for the warmth of the room to lull her to sleep.
Nivea awoke to the sound of women’s voices. They were settling on the terrace right outside the window, chattering like magpies. Their topic of conversation brought Nivea fully alert.
“Did you see how angry Lord Landis became last night at the musicale? I thought he was going to burst into flames. La, that was amusing.”
That was Elizabeth Wilshire’s catty voice. Nivea would recognize it anywhere.
“So, is it true? Can he play piano?”
“Oh yes, but he considers it some shameful secret.”
“How do you know about it, Elizabeth?”
Nivea held her breath waiting to hear the response.
“His sister, Anne, told me. She was so mad that Dare dallied with her friend, she wrote and asked me to extract some revenge. She informed me that he had been quite proud of his talent as a child. But her father found it embarrassing and tormented him until he gave it up. Anne said he would be mortified if people knew he played,” Elizabeth gloated.
“It most certainly worked. Did you see how quickly he left? How embarrassing for him. Adair Landis, the great rakehell of London, is afraid to play the piano,” snickered another voice.
“Well, I don’t care if he’s afraid of his own shadow. I would still be eager to invite him to my bed,” giggled another female. The others murmured their agreement and they moved on to other subjects.
Nivea sat there, hot with anger. She did not expect any better from Elizabeth, who had always been a mean-spirited shrew. But how could Dare’s sister betray such a confidence? His family was insufferable.
Sickened by their behavior, Nivea spent the better part of the afternoon trying to figure out a way to break the truth to Dare. She was still upset about the way he had treated her, condemning her without any proof. But how could he think otherwise? His parents had both betrayed him, and now his sister. How could he ever have faith in people?
Restless, she went to the window, hoping a cooling breeze might clear her head. She leaned out the casement and sighed.
A hawk glided overhead, lazily floating on the still air above. No other movement was visible. The guests must all be in their rooms, resting up for the evening activities. She decided to do the same when a figure strode across the yard.
It was Dare, heading for the stables. His hair sleek and black in the sun, appearing almost wicked, as did the stark, forbidding planes of his face. Even at a distance, she marveled at how handsome he appeared.
She had to set things to right. She had to make him understand.
As soon as he had ridden away, she ran out to the stable. Finding the groom, she asked him to remain out of sight when Dare returned. Then she headed back to the house and waited.
For the next hour, she paced and fidgeted in her room. She fussed with her gown, pinned and re-pinned her hair and doodled at her desk, stopping every five minutes to peer out the window. Finally, she saw Dare charging across the field back toward the house.
Rushing down the back stairs, she raced outside, arriving just in time to hear him yelling for the stable hand. Then he yelled again when no one appeared. Uttering a string of curses, he leapt down and led the horse into the stable himself.
She heard a stall door slam. Around the corner, the groom peeked out and waved at her. She mouthed the words “thank you,” and he returned to the rear of the stable.
This was it. This was her one chance to make things better. If only she could get him to understand. Her heart hammering, she took a deep breath and crept over to the stall where Dare kept his horse.
He had removed his jacket and flung it over the side of the stall. His shirt, loosened from his tight breeches, clung to his broad shoulders. Judging by the horse’s lathered coat, they must have had a hard run. It snorted emphatically as Dare began to brush him.
Cautiously, Nivea opened the stall’s door and cleared her throat. Dare whirled around, glowered at her, and promptly returned his attention to his horse.
Dear Lord, this was harder than she expected. Her insides were twisted in knots.
“I need to speak with you,” she said, trying to sound firm.
“You have nothing I care to hear.”
She could see the angry set of his jaw as he continued to tend to his horse but refused to let it deter her. “Regardless, I will have my say.”
He stilled, but did not look at her. “Fine. Talk away. You’ll excuse me if I do not respond. I have no doubt anything I say will be thrown back in my face.”
That stung. The pain in his voice was almost too much to bear. But at least she knew she had his attention.
Squaring her shoulders, she said as calmly as she could, “I know you think I betrayed your confidence. That is not true. No matter what you think of me, I would never hurt you so.”
He snorted. “Am I to assume that Elizabeth just guessed that I play the piano?”
“No,” Nivea whispered.
“So, you admit you told her?” he growled over his shoulder.
“No, it was not I.”
He stormed over, stopping inches away, and bellowed, “Who then? Who? After years of hiding my disgrace, one person finds out. One person! And then suddenly my secret is guessed by a virtual stranger? Is that what you expect me to believe?”
Anger radiating off him. His breath was hot, intimidating, on her face. But she couldn’t back away. Not yet.
Locking eyes with him, she said, “No, she didn’t guess. And I didn’t tell her.”
He slammed down the curry brush. “Then who did?”
“I—I—.” Nivea did not want to admit his sister’s role, knowing it would cause him more pain.
“That’s what I thought.” He tried to brush past her. “It’s hard to feign innocence for your betrayal after apologizing for it.”
“What do you mean?”
“As you left my room, I heard you. You apologized.”
She shook her head, confused. “I did no such thing. I—I—”
Then she remembered. “I said I was sorry…not for betraying your confidence, but because I was sorry to see you hurt.”
He took a step toward her and looked her dead in the eye. “But you didn’t betray me? So, tell me, Miss Horsham. Who. Did?”
Knowing she had no choice, she breathed one word. “Anne.”
He rolled his eyes at her. “Anne who?”
“Your sister.”
He sto
pped. Some of the fire seemed to go out of him.
Closing his eyes, he exhaled deeply. “Explain yourself.”
“This morning, I overheard Elizabeth say she received a correspondence from your sister. She’d been angry with you—something about dallying with a friend of hers. She asked Elizabeth to extract some revenge for her. She told her how you played piano, and that your father…disapproved. If she asked you to play, it was sure to upset you.”
Expressions flitted across his handsome face. Anguish, anger, and shame all took a turn as the words sunk in. She wanted to embrace him and soothe away his pain, but he looked so forbidding, she didn’t dare move.
After a moment, he composed his features, stood up tall, and faced her. “It appears I misjudged you. Please accept my apology.”
Nivea felt a small flicker of hope. “So, you believe me?”
“Do I believe that you can be trusted? No. That will never happen. But do I believe that my sister would reveal my darkest secrets to an outsider just to punish me for a deed that had no bearing on her whatsoever? Yes.”
Nivea breathed a heavy sigh. That was not the reaction she had hoped for, but at least it was a start. Maybe she could make this right. If only she could find the words.
“I’ll have you know I find it outrageous how your family treats you. No one should be made to suffer as you do.”
Unimpressed, he bent down to grab the feed bucket, placing it in front of his horse. “My family is of no consequence. Do not let them concern you.”
“But—”
“No buts.” He grabbed her wrist. “This does not concern you. Forget everything I’ve said. I do not want it mentioned again.”
Pain was evident in his eyes. He tried to hide it behind anger, but it was there, along with a hint of fear. The poor man was terrified his indomitable facade would be torn away.
She covered his hand with hers. “Dare, you can trust me. I give you my word that I will never disclose details of your youth.”
He let out a snort. Trust. What a ridiculous concept. He trusted no one. Opening his mouth to tell her so, he stopped, startled.
Nivea stood there, eyes wide and earnest, brow creased with concern. God’s blood, he could almost believe her. So, instead of a flippant retort, he responded, civilly, “Thank you. I would appreciate that.”
At his response, Nivea’s expression transformed—her blue eyes darkened with pleasure and a smile, wide and soft, lit up her face.
His breath caught in his chest. She really was an engaging thing. Not a beauty in the classic sense…her features too soft, her shape too curvy, and her hair pulled back in a careless style no one would emulate. But her unaffected air made him feel…comfortable. Almost as though he could trust her.
It was an amazing sensation. Before he had time to assimilate his feelings, she surprised him again. His horse curved his neck toward Nivea and nudged her hand. Instead of drawing away, she turned to pet his muzzle. “Hello there, handsome,” she cooed, “did you have a nice run today?”
He stared in disbelief. “What is this? I thought you hated horses.”
She giggled as she stroked the horse’s neck. “I have come to learn they are not the horrifying beasts I had thought. They are actually quite sweet. I will never be the horsewoman my sister is, but I am learning.”
Dare remember the greeting they received upon their arrival. “That must be quite a pleasant surprise for your father.”
“Oh, I have not told him yet. I…”—she paused and lowered her voice—“I have been riding in secret every day since we arrived. Once I am fully comfortable, I will make my ‘debut,’ as it were.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Really? You have been practicing alone, just to please your father?”
“Yes,” she replied with a hint of embarrassment. “For once, I would like to truly feel like a Horsham.”
That statement hit Dare like a blow.
He was a heel. A total, inexcusable cad. The girl did not have a mean bone in her body. She wanted nothing more than to fit in with her family, not even realizing how much they already loved and accepted her.
And how had he treated her?
He’d taken her innocence, accused her of betrayal and, when she tried to make amends, he’d assaulted her in his room. He had abused her abominably. Guilt washed over him, clogging his throat and sending a jab of pain through his chest. He had to make amends. As if it were possible.
Deciding to extend an olive branch of sorts, he cleared his throat. “Perhaps I could help you become more proficient,” he offered. “If you would like, I could accompany you on your ride tomorrow.”
Joy lit up her face. “Would you?”
“I would be honored,” he said with a bow.
“That would be lovely. Do you promise to keep my secret?”
She was teasing him. After all he’d done to her, she bore him no ill will. No matter what happened, she remained cheerful, guileless. It wasn’t an act—she was truly a nice woman.
He felt a strange lightness in his chest, like a knot bound too tight loosened.
He’d been so upset, thinking he’d trusted her and she’d played him falsely. Learning it was his sister who stirred up such mischief was not only expected, it was comforting. He would deal with her later. For now, he would try to make amends to Nivea. She deserved no less.
He smiled at her. Not the forced, insincere ballroom smile he usually gave, but one that bubbled up from his chest. “Of course, I will keep your secret.” Taking her arm, he breathed in a deep, satisfying breath and escorted her out of the stable.
Now that he knew who was responsible for embarrassing him at the musicale, Dare decided to extract some revenge. That evening, while the guests were socializing in the parlor, he drew Nivea aside.
“Would you agree to a favor?” he asked.
“Certainly,” she responded, with a hint of hesitation. “What do you need?”
“Pretend I have offended you and act outraged at my behavior.”
“What? Why?”
“I have a score to settle.”
Turning toward the rear of the room, his eyes settled on Elizabeth Wilshire. Anger flared as he watched her casually flirting with an enamored young whelp. He’d settled on a plan that would make her think twice about toying with people’s emotions.
Nivea must have guessed who his target was as she wasted no time embracing the ruse. Planting her hands on her hips, she snapped, “Fine. I’m sure if you simply act like yourself, I’ll find some reason to take exception.”
The contempt in her voice was disturbingly convincing. His surprise must have been evident as she attacked him again.
“That’s right, you have not always been the most pleasant of escorts, you know. Your charm is offset by your scorn, set downs, and insults. It is amazing anyone would socialize with you.”
Unable to help himself, he glared down at her.
“See, just that expression. I have done nothing to merit such a look, yet it has skewered me on more than one occasion. In fact, I don’t know why I even waste my time talking with you, sir.” Her shrill tone reverberated around the room. “I have done nothing to you and yet you continue to treat me as a nuisance. I will stand for it no longer!” Then she twirled on her heel and stormed away. As she reached the door, she turned back, gave him a saucy wink and she was gone.
Well, that was unexpectedly well done. Dare’s heart was pounding, and he felt as though he had insulted her.
Realizing all eyes were upon him, he gathered his wits, and went along with the charade. Smirking at the closest gentleman and bestowing a glare on the remainder of the room, he pulled out his snuffbox. While taking a pinch, he spotted his quarry over near the window. Lady Wilshire shot him a smug expression. He quirked his lips into an arrogant smile and approached.
She brought up her fan to shield her smile. “It appears you are not as irresistible as you imagined, Lord Landis.”
He sneered at the door where Nivea had made her esc
ape. “’Tis a pity certain women don’t appreciate a well-intentioned bit of advice.”
Elizabeth fanned herself, slanting a knowing look at him. “Then perhaps you should limit your attention to the women who appreciate your…intentions.”
He forced a husky laugh and pressed closer, nudging her into the folds of the thick drapes, obscuring their view from the room.
“I admit you were very appreciative,” he purred, reaching up to caress her neck.
She flashed him a wicked smile. When he leaned in closer, she tilted her head and her eyelashes fluttered down, anticipating a kiss. Perfect, he thought. With a quick tug, he removed both her ear bobs.
Elizabeth let out a screech that Dare covered with a loud well-timed cough. Gazing into her furious eyes, he leaned forward and growled, “What I would appreciate, my dear Lady Wilshire, is for you to discontinue any and all correspondence with my sister. And if I ever suspect you of spreading evil gossip about me and my personal family relationships, you will suffer devastating consequences, I can assure you.”
He waved her ruby earrings at her and then slid them into his trousers pocket.
“Although your husband is not a doting spouse, I have no doubt he would be quite distressed to learn you had left his grandmother’s jewels in my quarters, following a night of debauchery. I have several acquaintances that would be happy to share personal details of the evening, right down to the distinctive mole on your left thigh.”
She narrowed her eyes and hissed at him.
“That’s right, your respectability would be quite tarnished with a tale such as that.”
“I need those back. He is sure to notice if I don’t wear his blasted jewels.”
He tapped his finger to his lips, thinking. “When the time comes that I believe you won’t cause any mischief, I will return them. Until then”—he patted his pocket twice—“they will remain safe with me.” With a wink, he sauntered off.
Well aware he may have stirred up a dangerous hornet’s nest, he decided to reinforce his warning. Stopping to get two glasses of port from the sideboard, he went to Lord Wilshire.
“Sir, you appear a bit parched. Care to join me in a drink?”
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