by Laura Landon
“Don’t you remember?” she answered. “I assured you that I would wake you at the first sign you were having a nightmare.”
“That’s hardly comforting. I—”
“I wasn’t in danger.”
The finality with which she spoke ended his argument. He lifted the cup to his mouth and drank. “What are your plans now, my lady?” he asked when he could gather his thoughts enough to consider how to proceed.
“I intend to check with the staff to make sure everything is running smoothly, then go to my room to rest for a few hours. After that—”
He held up his hand to stop her. “No, my lady. We cannot continue as if nothing has happened. We can no longer pretend that life at Temple Hall is normal. Or that nothing has changed. Everything has changed.”
“Why? Because I’m aware of your nightmares? Or because you’re aware that I know of them?”
“No! Because I could have killed you!”
“But you did not.”
“That hardly changes anything. I could have! I could have—”
“Enough, my lord! I refuse to speculate on could haves. We will deal only in facts. And the facts are that you suffer from nightmares. And those nightmares threaten to destroy you.”
“And you think you can make them go away, my lady?” He laughed.
“No,” she answered in a calm voice. “I cannot make them go away. I’m not sure anyone can make them go away, my lord. Even you.”
“Then what do you suggest I do?”
“Perhaps share your pain so that you don’t have to carry the burden alone. Speak of it, and perhaps . . . somehow . . . that may take away its power.”
Alex threw the rest of the coffee from his cup into his mouth, then bolted to his feet. Except bolt wasn’t what he did at all. In truth, he struggled to stand, then staggered so distinctly that he had to reach out to steady himself against the nearest piece of furniture.
“Do you think you are strong enough to help me carry my burden?”
“If you allow me to.”
He couldn’t stop his bark of laughter. “Even you do not possess such Herculean strength, my lady.”
He paced the room as a wild animal covered the area of a small cage.
“You cannot continue as you are, my lord. Won’t you consider allowing me to help you?”
He continued moving from one side of the room to the other. When there was no longer anywhere for him to run, he stopped in front of the marble fireplace and braced his hands on the mantel.
How could he consider allowing her to help him? There was no help for him. Not after what had been done to him. If he were ever foolish enough to reveal the cause of his nightmares, she would run screaming in disgust. She would flee as far from him as she could and not stop until half a world separated her from anyone so reprehensible.
Suddenly, as if he were able to think clearly for the first time since Isobel had entered his life, he realized that sending her away was the only way he could keep her safe. As long as she remained beneath his roof, she would continue to believe she could help him recover from the curse that haunted him. She would continue to rush to his side, believing that she had the power to calm him and ease his troubled sleep. Until the time came when he was successful in his attempt to strangle her.
A painful lump lodged inside his chest. He knew what he had to do but was loath to do it. He didn’t want to lose her. He didn’t want to think of the empty days that would be his future if she weren’t in them. He didn’t want her gone from his life when she’d come to be such an immense part of it.
For her safety though, he had to send her away. It was the only way to keep her safe.
“You are dismissed from my employ, Mrs. Moore. You will go to your room and pack. I will send Holmes up in a little while to carry your bags to a waiting carriage and give orders for my driver to take you to Scotland.”
“No,” she answered, but he ignored her refusal.
“I will also give you enough money so you can live comfortably for at least one year. By then, you will have reached your majority and be in possession of your inheritance.”
“No.”
He swallowed past the bile that rose in his throat. He wasn’t sure he could survive without her. She’d become that important to him. He didn’t realize how much he needed her until he thought of a life without her.
“Your refusals don’t matter, Mrs. Moore. I’ve made up my mind.”
“Then you can unmake your mind, because I’m not leaving. I’m not leaving Temple Hall. And I’m not leaving . . . you.”
He turned on her. “You will do as I say! You will leave!”
She was on her feet. She looked like an avenging angel ready to wage war to get her way. He couldn’t allow it.
“You can pack your belongings yourself. Or I will send someone to do it for you. But you will leave today.”
“Are you such a coward that you cannot accept my help? Aren’t you willing to at least try to recover from the nightmares that haunt you? Do you have so little faith in my offer that you would reject me without giving me a chance to help you?”
“Yes! Because you can’t help me. No one can help me! What happened to me is too repulsive. Too disgusting.”
“Nothing can be that revolting!”
“This is, my lady! Oh yes! This is! I was held captive and . . . and . . .”
Alex swallowed hard and the final word came out in a strangled whisper.
“ . . . and violated!”
Chapter 17
Nightfall arrived, and she was still at Temple Hall. Surreptitious help from the devoted staff was largely responsible for the fact that she’d managed to avoid more than one attempt to evict her. Although, she had to admit that Holmes’s efforts to follow Lord Halverston’s orders were halfhearted at best. The staff realized their master’s nightmares were getting worse—except when she was there. And the consensus was that she was the only person who possessed the ability to help His Lordship.
If only the Marquess of Halverston believed that. If only he would allow her to help him.
Isobel took a cover from the bed and wrapped it around her shoulders, then she sat in the boudoir chair beside the window.
She was dressed for bed but knew there was no use in climbing beneath the covers. She knew she wouldn’t be able to fall asleep. Nor was she sure she wanted to try.
His Lordship’s words echoed in her head, but until now, she hadn’t allowed herself to consider what they’d meant.
In the dark and quiet of a house retired for the evening, she had no choice but to repeat the words he’d said and evaluate his meaning. He’d been violated.
Isobel pulled the quilt tighter around her, as if its softness could soothe or protect her. Although she didn’t have actual experience when it came to what happened between a man and a woman, neither was she totally ignorant. Her friend Genevieve had shared enough of the vile aspects of her marriage to the Duke of Balsam to shed light on the abhorrent things of which men were capable.
One of the words Genevieve had used when revealing that Balsam had raped her was the same word Lord Halverston had used. Genevieve revealed that she’d been raped by her husband. That she’d been violated.
Isobel squeezed her eyes shut as if she could block out what Lord Halverston had said. As if she could erase what he’d meant. Except the image of Lord Halverston being raped refused to go away.
Her breaths came in harsh gasps, each attempt to fill her lungs with the calming air she needed—futile. He’d been raped. He’d endured an act so loathsome that he was unable to come to terms with what had been done to him.
She rose from the chair and paced the small area from her chair to the door. Her heart ached. A painful knot settled in the pit of her stomach.
No wonder he suffered from nightmares. No wonder he became violent while under their influence. He was fighting off his attackers. And night after night he lost the battle to protect himself.
Tears filled her
eyes, then streamed down her face. She couldn’t stop them. She didn’t want to stop them. She let them fall until she had no more tears to shed for him. Then she dried her eyes.
He didn’t need her tears. He needed her strength. He didn’t need her pity. He needed her understanding. He didn’t need her sympathy. He needed her acceptance.
She washed her face with a cool cloth, then sat to evaluate what she needed to do. She had two options. She could either hide in her room until he was ready to accept her help, or she could go to him so he knew she was willing to help him.
Her mind battled the possibilities. What if he wouldn’t accept her help? What if he demanded she leave? What if he carried through on his threat to remove her?
But what if he didn’t? What if he accepted her help?
She slipped on her robe and left her room.
She walked down the hall on legs that threatened to buckle beneath her and paused when she reached his room. From someplace, she found the courage to open the door and step inside.
She looked around the room. At first glance she thought he wasn’t there. His bed was empty. The covers turned down as Boswick would have done for his master. But his bed hadn’t been slept in.
That didn’t surprise her. She knew before she entered that she wouldn’t find him in his bed. After the past two nights, she doubted he’d fall asleep until he’d reached a state of exhaustion.
She let her gaze search the room. She found him at the window.
He stood with his hands locked behind his back, his legs braced wide, and his shoulders back.
Isobel’s heart shifted in her breast. He was one of the most powerful males she’d ever seen. And one of the most tortured.
Isobel was certain he’d heard her enter, but he didn’t turn. She closed the door behind her and waited. It didn’t take long before he spoke.
“I knew you would come.”
“Are you that sure of me?”
“Yes, my lady. I believe I am.” He didn’t turn to face her but continued to stare out the window. “Holmes informed me that you refused to leave. But that didn’t surprise me. I should have realized you wouldn’t go easily.”
“Yes, you should have. Since you know me so well, you should have realized I would not leave you at all.”
“Perhaps I thought that when I revealed what had happened to me you would flee in disgust.”
“Then you do not know me so well after all.”
He was silent.
Isobel crossed the room until she stood next to him. He didn’t look at her or acknowledge that he realized she was near him. But the slight tightening of his muscles told her that he knew she was near.
“I know that you are here because you think you can help me.”
“But you’re convinced I can’t,” she answered.
“Of course you can’t. No one can help me. Not unless you can turn back the hands of time to before . . .”
“That’s not possible, and you know it.”
“Then perhaps you’re here because you think I need you.”
“And you don’t?”
“I do not.” He took a shuddering breath. “So the question is, why are you here?”
“What if I told you that I’m here because I couldn’t stay away?”
“Then I’d say you are a very foolish woman, my lady. Do you think you can wave a magic wand and I will forget what happened to me?”
“No, my lord.”
He unclasped his hands from behind him and dropped them to his sides; then he turned his head until his gaze locked with hers. The bitter anger she saw stabbed through her.
“Then what, my lady! If you know you can’t make what happened go away, then why are you here?”
“Because this is where I need to be.” She slowly reached toward him and twined her fingers with his. “This is where your darkness lives. This is where your blood runs black with horrid memory, where ugliness overtakes your veins and threatens to darken your heart. And if there is any hope of banishing it, of shrouding it, of eclipsing it with something of joy or beauty or . . . or peace . . . then my place is here. Maybe for a moment, maybe more. But it’s here. With you.”
He stiffened, then sucked in a breath and cried out in pain.
Isobel thought he might pull away from her—feared he might push her away, but he didn’t. He held her fingers in his as if their connection was a lifeline to save him.
He dropped his head back on his shoulders as he yielded to her, then turned her to face him. When she was close to him, he wrapped his arms around her and held her.
Isobel went willingly. She nestled against him, bringing herself as close to him as possible. She wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed her cheek to his chest.
His heart pounded loud enough that she heard every beat. The rapid thundering beneath her ear revealed how desperately he needed her.
Faint moonlight came in through the window, dimming as clouds hid its brightness and shrouding the room in darkness. Shadows of gloom lengthened across the room, a sign that the heavens acknowledged the Marquess of Halverston’s heartache. Then, as if the angels wept from above, huge drops of rain splashed against the window.
His body shuddered as he struggled to keep from exposing his emotions. She knew how desperately he wanted to hide his weakness. How desperately he wanted to keep the horrors that had been committed against him buried. But they refused to remain entombed inside him. They refused to stay secreted away.
As if he couldn’t keep them hidden any longer, they erupted like an active volcano that had been dormant for a millennium. A strangled roar echoed in the darkness when he lost the battle to hold inside the memories that had tortured him. A keening moan that was rife with pain and grief and regret and agony found its way into the darkness.
Isobel pressed herself closer to him, wrapping him in her arms, holding him as closely as she could. Willing him to place his burden on her shoulders.
His angry growl slashed through the darkness, followed by one heart-wrenching sob after another.
Isobel held him while he came to terms with what had happened to him. Soothed him as he released all the memories that had haunted him for so long. Allowed him to lean on her while he faced what he’d spent the past year or more trying to bury.
She wasn’t sure how long he clung to her. Wasn’t sure how long he battled the demons that had plagued him, but she would be with him until he had destroyed his monsters. How could she abandon him? How could she think of leaving him when he needed her?
How could she turn her back on someone she loved?
Eventually he calmed. Eventually his racking sobs ceased and his breathing settled. Eventually, the inner strength she knew he possessed returned, and the confident nobleman he was held her.
She lifted her head from his chest and looked up. Their gazes met and held.
He opened his mouth to speak, but she placed her finger over his lips to stop him. No words needed to be spoken.
He held her gaze for several long seconds, then slowly lowered his head and claimed her lips.
Her kiss was filled with hunger, with need. With desperation. And she answered his demands with a craving that matched what he was asking of her.
She wasn’t sure when she’d fallen in love with him. Perhaps when they’d first kissed. Perhaps when she’d gone to him that first night and held his hand while he struggled with his demons. Perhaps before that. But she knew with certainty that he was the only man she would ever love.
He deepened his kisses, and she followed his lead. His tongue skimmed her lips, asking permission to enter. She could deny him nothing.
She opened for him and welcomed his entreaty.
His tongue searched for hers, then found it.
Their tongues touched, less tender now, and Isobel was consumed by an emotion so intense that her legs weakened beneath her. She clung to him more securely.
Their kisses lasted for what seemed an eternity, yet when he lifted his mouth fro
m hers, she was loath to be parted from him.
With little effort, he swept her up in his arms. “Don’t leave me.”
She wrapped her arm around his neck and rested her head on his chest. “I won’t.”
He placed her in the center of the bed and settled next to her, then pulled the covers over them.
And they slept.
Chapter 18
The sun was already well over the horizon when Alex opened his eyes. His room was filled with light, and for the first time in nearly a year, he actually felt rested.
He looked at the empty spot on the bed next to him. She was gone.
He threw back the covers and looked around the room. She wasn’t there. But that didn’t surprise him. He should have known she’d make sure none of the staff realized she’d spent the night in his room. No one would believe that nothing had happened. And they would be right.
A lot had happened. He’d shared the reason for his nightmares with someone. He’d allowed another human being into his world of disgrace and shame. He’d surrendered to his emotions and allowed Isobel to see how vulnerable he was.
For the first time since before he’d been violated, he felt as if he might be able to cope with what had happened to him. He was healing, and she had made that possible.
He thought he wouldn’t be able to face her now that she knew what had happened to him, but the opposite seemed to be true. She was gone, and he already missed her.
The painful weight pressing against his chest felt as if it had been lifted. He’d shared the black secrets he thought he needed to hide from the world. He’d revealed the most horrifying details of his life, and she hadn’t fled in disgust.
Alex walked to the open window and looked out. Even the sky seemed bluer today. The sun was practically crystalline. And Isobel was responsible for lifting the haze that made his world a bleak and miserable place in which to live.
As if the cover had been lifted to reveal something he should have comprehended a long time ago, he realized that Isobel was as important to him as the air he needed to breathe.
He contemplated this revelation and understood with certain clarity that he couldn’t imagine a life without her at the center of it.