by Lily Silver
The lover’s mask melted and shifted. Raw fury filled his eyes. A string of curses filled the room as Adrian let loose on her with the only weapon at his disposal, his tongue. “You useless, mewling cunt! Get out of my sight. It’s your fault I’m in this bed. The least you could do is give me something to ease the torment.”
At that moment, Dan peeked in. “Everything okay?” His crinkled blue eyes moved from Tara to the man restrained on the bed. “My turn.” He said quickly, shooing her out the door before Tara dissolved to tears in the wake of Adrian’s cruelty.
When it was her turn again to sit with him, Dan refused to allow it, taking Tara’s watch as well as his own. Tara didn’t argue. She couldn’t bear to see Adrian in such a state or listen to more of his pleas or cursing.
Still, she remained nearby. She heard Adrian weeping at one point as she lingered outside the closed door. He begged Dan to have mercy on him, to give him a small sip to stop the pain. Dan refused, and then Adrian turned on him, telling him to just shoot him and put him out of his misery like a lame horse.
Poor Fiona was beside herself, as any mother would be at hearing her son’s suffering and being unable to ease it.
The week following Burke’s departure stretched painfully into two.
Tara gazed out the windows at the usually busy street, surprised to find it nearly deserted in the middle of the day. People were staying indoors as much as possible soldiers roamed the streets searching for rebels. They stopped to question anyone caught loitering about as to their purpose as they imposed military law.
Adrian was finally free of the opiates. He left his bed, shaved, bathed and dressed, and yet remained upstairs in his room. He was still sharp tempered with all who attended him. Tara couldn’t reconcile the gentle, patient lover of the past months with the arrogant jerk who now inhabited her husband’s body. Being shot had changed him, brought the worst in him. Tara was afraid his attitude toward her was due to more than mere pain. She interfered in his plans and her interference left him maimed for life and ruined his reputation among his peers, those that hadn’t yet been hung for treason, that is, as his inability to attend the meeting had made him appear to be the traitor. If only she hadn’t drugged him that morning!
Yet, if Tara hadn’t, Adrian would have been at Bond House with the others. He’d be arrested and hung. She saved him from that, and at what price; the loss of his love?
Tension and mistrust ruled the city of Dublin. A great part of Ireland was regarded and treated as in a state of actual war. Reports poured in from all over of troop brutality toward the general populace in response to the free reign given them under martial law.
Disturbances broke out in the counties of Leinster and Munster. The little town of Cahir in County Tipperary was rumored to be occupied by armed and mounted rebels numbering from three hundred to one thousand, and that great robberies of arms were taking place in Kildare. Ambercromby was under orders to disarm the rebels.
Underground sources still promised the revolt would begin on old May Day, May the twenty-third. Lord Edward was still at large, remaining one step ahead of his pursuers and throwing them off his trail time and again. He did not contact Dillon House again.
As April drew to a close reports of drunken brutality among the troops prompted Ambercromby, the newly appointed Commander-in-chief, to resign. He issued a formal statement throughout Ireland, blaming his resignation on the unruly behavior among the troops that went unchecked due to corruption from within the government. Lord Lake, one of the strongest proponents of harsh tactics such as house-burnings and pitch caps, replaced Ambercromby as the Commander in Chief of Ireland.
Six weeks had passed since the shooting. Adrian’s moodiness softened by degrees. He seemed to have come through the worst of his ordeal, managing his pain and learning slowly to manage his irritability. Tara found herself tiptoeing around him, uneasy with his surly demeanor.
“Sit with me, dearest.” He patted the cushion beside him at the windowseat.
“I’m tired. I need to lie down for a while.”
“Plenty of room here.” He gestured expansively to the long, cushioned seat, giving her a rare smile. “The sun is shining. You can doze in my arms like a kitten.”
Tara wanted to accept his invitation and sit with him. She longed to reclaim their former closeness, but she couldn’t simply behave as if nothing had changed between them. Anger and hurt simmered in her heart. “I prefer my own room.” Tara said, turning on her heel and walking out of his chamber. She was truly tired these days. Whether it was due to pregnancy or the stress of living in a fishbowl with government eyes watching their comings and goings, she didn’t know. It was probably both.
She descended the stairs and slipped into her husband’s study, now her own retreat within the household as Adrian was restricted to the second floor due to his heavy dependence on a cane to walk.
A wall existed between them, a wall of deception. Tara’s mind kept returning to the fact that Adrian used her. True, he may have ‘saved’ her from the soldiers and the suspicion of being a spy months ago by taking her into his protection. His motives for doing so were not as gallant as he liked to believe, for he ultimately did so to save his own neck. He took advantage of her in her helpless state, used her amnesia to convince her they had a history and they belonged together. And for her part, Tara wanted to believe his claim. She yearned for someone to want her after a lifetime of being unwanted, so she gave in and said yes to him.
Tara was angry; with herself as well as with him. As she reflected on their relationship she came to a painful realization: she was his pawn in a dangerous game of cat and mouse. Oh, sure—he may have come to love her in the midst of his deception. Or he convinced himself that he was in love with her. The ugly truth remained that he lied to her. He used her when she was weak and vulnerable, unable to even speak up for herself due to the side effects of being struck by lightning.
It might be possible to forgive him for it if he hadn’t called her such foul names during his illness. Being called a mewling cunt, a greedy slut and f***ing bitch by a man who claimed previously to love you more than his own life was hard to forget, despite Dan’s assurances that it was just the craving talking and to ignore it. Adrian had been her hero, her champion, her gallant knight of old. Yeah, she’d been deluded, willingly so.
The honeymoon, as it were, was now over. Now she saw him as just another arrogant ass. It was a cruel joke. She believed she was living every woman’s fantasy, married to a rich, handsome lord and living the idyllic life in the pre-regency era of history. Every woman wanted to marry Mr. Darcy, didn’t they?
It was just a stupid fantasy. The reality of such a match sucked. Tara was from a time where women didn’t admire men who were jerks, a place where women confronted men who were verbally abusive and controlling. Women in her time left men who behaved like Adrian had. Sometimes they left for a lot less.
In that instant, Tara wished for something she thought she had given up longing for months ago. She wished she could go home; back to the future. Sure, she lived in a mobile home in a pokey trailer park. But it was her home, hers alone. And she might have had a low end job as a radio DJ and ate Ramen twice a week to make ends meet, but she answered to no one, and certainly not to someone who called her such foul names.
Sure, she had a ton of student loan debt and a Master’s Degree to finish, not a sterling outlook for employment when she graduated, but at least she was captain of her own ship. At least, in that world, she didn’t have to take any bullshit from a guy just because he paid the bills and had the corner on legal and civil rights which she and every other female lacked here. What could happen to her if Adrian lost control? Suppose one day he went back to drinking Laudanum like water again? What if he became an alcoholic, like his mother? Tara had a child to consider, it was no longer merely herself and her own future she had to worry about.
Oh, but what to do about it? She couldn’t just strike out on her own. Could she?
>
“Hey, kid. Why so glum?” Dan peeked his head into the small study. There was no point explaining her hurt to him, he wouldn’t understand. He would tell her to grow up, face reality, that marriage wasn’t supposed to be all fairytale magic and romance. She would leave without him. Unlike Tara, Dan could do as he wished. Adrian wouldn’t stop him. Dan could practice medicine. With his degree in surgical nursing, he had a greater knowledge of medicine than the doctors of this era.
“Tara.” Dan persisted, taking a step toward her. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
She turned to face him, steeling herself. She was a survivor, after all. She was acquainted with partings, rejection and being alone. It was best to get on with it.
“I’m leaving. I’ve had enough of his lordship and of 18th century married life.”
“You can’t leave!” Dan stepped inside the study and closed the door. “We’re in a frickin’ war zone. You’ve seen the soldiers outside, and any day its all going to blow up between them and the rebel forces. Tara, just sit tight. Wait it out. We’re safe here. I know, he’s been a jerk lately, but he’s been in a lot of pain. It will pass—“
“No, don’t. Don’t make excuses for him and what he’s done.” Tara rounded on him, furious that Dan would expect her to stay when she did not wish to. Next, he’d be reminding her that they had it good here, with their rich benefactor and all that crap. She was having none of it. “This isn’t a little spat. I married him too quickly. He’s a stranger, it was a mistake. I’m tired, Dan. I’m tired of tiptoeing around him. I want out.”
Dan’s scowl didn’t move her. He just stared at her for a long, tense moment. “What about me? What about us? We’re family, you and I, and yeah, Lord Jackass. We’re a family, Tara. And you don’t run out on family when they’re having a crisis. You stay, you endure, and wait for better days to come.”
“I’ve never had a family.” She retorted. “I’ve been alone all my life.”
“Well, you do now. You have me, Adrian and a baby on the way. You don’t run out on family. You wanted a family? Well, it ain’t all wine and roses, sweetheart.”
Chapter Thirty Eight
Tara had no idea of where she would go and what she would do.
Now that she’d made her decision to leave, she felt relief. Dan had left her in the study without further argument. He didn’t speak to her at dinner.
She was lying upstairs in her room, looking up at the tapestry above the canopy bed in the dimly lit chamber as the sun set on the city of Dublin.
There were so many things to consider. Napoleon was a growing threat. He would soon swallow most of Europe in his quest for world domination. America was unstable. Having recently won their war for Independence, they were struggling to emerge as a nation. Ireland was in chaos, France was Napoleon’s playground. England? England seemed to be the safest place, for this time period. Knowing the future of each country made her decision more complicated.
Where could she go in England to live a quiet life and raise Adrian’s child?
Someplace in the country, not in London, for certain. It was too dirty in the capitol city. The English countryside had many possibilities. She could live in a cottage by the sea, learn to weave, grow a garden, raise sheep or chickens. Maybe Dan was right, she could write a few books, like Jane Austen, become a novelist. Maybe she’d have to work hard, but she’d do it and do it gladly if it meant she could have her freedom and not be beholden to a man for her keeping.
Tara rose from the bed and felt about in the darkness for the washbasin. She splashed water on her face. A shuffling noise across the hall brought her attentions from the window. Her door opened slowly. The figure in the darkness shuffled painfully along, his presence obvious to all as he groaned with every step. Captain Midnight would never tip-toe in the shadows again. His injury left him irrevocably maimed.
Sadness filled Tara at that thought. Yes, it was her fault. She had been the one to drug him, leaving him lethargic, unable to respond when O’Reilly came to call.
No wonder he resented her.
“Tara?” The figure limped forward, scanning the dark chamber for her presence. “Where are you, sweetheart?”
Now it was Sweetheart? Wasn’t it just weeks ago he addressed her in less savory terms, pushing her away when she sought to help him, to comfort him.
He was fully dressed as if to go out. Where did he suppose to go this time of night, with soldiers on every corner? The bump and scrap of his heavy boot as he dragged it would give him away. “Tara, please light a candle. We need to talk about our future.”
Tara took a reed from the mantle and placed it in the small bed of glowing coals. It ignited, and she lit the candelabra on the mantel. There he stood, leaning heavily on his cane, not more than six paces away. He was dressed in one of his best suits, and his hair had been carefully combed, for once. His eyes were pleading.
“Since when does the bold Captain Midnight consult his wife?”
Adrian released his breath with a grimace. He hobbled to the window and stood looking down at the street. “I deserve that, and much worse.”
Tara didn’t respond. She wasn’t going to say anything that might start an argument, and these days, she’d learned that it didn’t take much to set him off.
“I wanted to apologize for being such an ogre these past weeks.” Adrian said at length. He turned away from the window to gaze at her expectantly.
Oh, crap. Why was he looking at her as if he knew what she was planning to do?
“Dan told you, didn’t he?” She stated the obvious.
“Dan?” Adrian’s brow raised in question. “You would call your father by his first name?”
Tara rolled her eyes and huffed. She wasn’t about to explain that Dan was not her real father. She didn’t care anymore about maintaining the ruse. She didn’t care anymore about appeasing this man, as Dan had so often admonished her because Adrian was their great benefactor, their meal ticket. Well, from now on Dan could suck up to the jerk and kiss his ass. She was not going to live on the edge of reason any longer.
“It’s over. You used me to escape Burke’s snare. Well, you’re free of him now, and any suspicion of being part of the Irishmen’s plot. It’s time I reclaimed my own freedom.”
“Tara … I know I said things that hurt you.” Adrian whispered in a thick voice. “It wasn’t me—I mean—I was so full of pain—you can’t imagine. I never meant those things.”
Tara waltzed to the bed post, spun around it playfully, feeling like a gypsy dancer, daring herself to confront him for his lies. “It’s much more complicated than a few foul insults, Lord Dillon.” She spoke in a mysterious voice, savoring her moment of inspiration. “You took advantage of me when I was too weak and wounded to make a rational judgment. You convinced me to marry you in haste. Did you think this was going to last forever? That I would just become the docile little wife for you?”
He looked startled as the meaning of her words sank in. He gripped the cane with white knuckles. “I needed a bride to protect me from Burke’s schemes. I had planned to hire a French actress to play the part for a time. It would have been a pretend marriage, nothing more.”
“And then I conveniently fell in your lap.” Tara finished for him with difficulty.
“Aye.” He nodded, looking down at the floor. “Our marriage did protect both of us. And I told myself at first that I would not mate with you, so that you could have the marriage annulled if you wished, once the danger was past.” He lifted his eyes then, giving her a look that made her heart quicken. “I never sought to bring you pain. I came to love you, lass, and that’s the truth. I fell in love with you.”
Tara held his gaze, feeling that insistent stinging in her eyes as her throat constricted with pain. “I’m sorry you were shot. I was only trying to protect you from a greater danger. It’s my fault you can’t walk right any more. But I loved you, Adrian, I only wanted to keep you safe, with me.”
“I do not hold you responsi
ble for what happened to me, sweet Tara? How could you think that? You couldn’t know O’Reilly would come here? None of us could.”
“That’s not what you said to me last week.” She countered. “You told me it was my fault you were crippled, along with some choice words I’d care not to repeat.”
Adrian’s face paled. He looked truly astonished by her words. So, perhaps Dan was right, and he did not remember all those nasty things he said after all. “Tara, my sweet, I never—I never meant to hurt you.” His voice thickened and became wet. He reached one hand toward her imploringly. “You loved me?” He croaked. “Is that in the past, my sweet sprite? Is there no manner in which I might make amends for insulting you so in my brush with madness? Have I completely destroyed your love for me?”
Tara bit her lower lip. Oh, God. He was crying. Not blubbering, but tears were streaming down his rugged cheeks as he regarded her silently, his handsome face stained with raw, unfeigned grief.
“Forgive me. Let me spend the rest of my days worshipping you.” He whispered in a rough, broken tone. “Your every wish will be a wish that I will make come true. And if you want the moon, I swear, I’ll bring it down to you, if you’ll just believe in me.”
Tara was speechless. He was quoting the words to her favorite romantic ballad, Meatloaf’s I’d Lie For You (And That’s The Truth!). The man she loved was speaking words she never expected to hear spoken to her, begging her to give him another chance.
Before she realized it, Tara was across the room and in his arms.
“I was so scared.” She hugged him. “I didn’t know what to do. I was just trying to protect you. I couldn’t let you walk into an ambush.”
“I know.” his mouth caressed her ear. “I know, sweet Tara.”