by Candace Camp
That had been his first assumption, when jealousy had ripped through him. He had been certain that, like Jocelyn, Damaris had run away with another man. But now, with cooler blood, he had to wonder whether the scene Genevieve had witnessed actually meant what she had assumed it did. Was Damaris eloping on a romantic tryst?
However foolish Alec had been about Jocelyn, even a large dose of jealousy could not make him believe that Damaris would act as Jocelyn had. She was several years older than Jocelyn, for one thing, a grown woman who had loved before, who had known sorrow and bitterness. She was not the sort to get herself into the type of situation Jocelyn had, and if she had, she would have been much cleverer in getting herself out of it.
Damaris would not have carried on an affair with Alec if she were in love with another man. On that, he realized, he would stake his life.
Besides, where and when would Damaris have come up with a lover? There had been no sign of a man in Chesley, and Rawdon was convinced that not only would someone have known if Damaris was being wooed, but also that if one person in Chesley had known it, everyone in the town would know it. Thea would have told him if Damaris had been seeing a man.
So this man would have to be someone Damaris had met during her brief stay in London, which seemed unlikely. Or he was someone from her past. Someone she had loved from long ago? She had not mentioned anyone but her husband, and it could not be him, since he was not only dead, but also someone Damaris would have been more likely to spit on than leave with.
Of course, she had not necessarily told Alec everything. There could have been a man with whom she had fallen in love but who was married or could not for some other reason be with her. Perhaps he had shown up after all this time, and she had been overcome with joy at seeing him. Perhaps whatever she felt for Alec could not compare to her love for this man, and so she had left with him, after shedding a few tears for the hurt she must inflict on Alec.
Painful as it was, the notion made sense. Until, of course, one considered how this man could have known to find her at Castle Cleyre. And why had Damaris, if she regretted hurting Alec, not taken the time and trouble to write a more thorough explanation?
What seemed much more likely was that that this sudden and inexplicable departure was tied to the danger they had spent the past weeks eluding. What if the man was one of her abductors and he had somehow forced her to leave?
Well, admittedly, that did not make sense, either, for she had clearly packed and left the house on her own, as well as written him a farewell note. A note so final, so terse, so likely to wound, that he would not pursue her.
Perhaps he was merely fooling himself again, but something about that idea struck a chord in him. Could Damaris have written the harsh missive simply to ensure that he would not follow her? No, that had to be wishful thinking. And yet… such a blatant lack of concern was in no way like the woman he knew… the woman who had gently kissed the threadlike scars on his back, her tears falling on his skin.
Or perhaps it was not one of the ruffians who had attacked her, but the man who had been behind it. Perhaps it really had been her family who had orchestrated the attacks, and the man with whom she left was an uncle or cousin.
And so his thoughts ran on, one moment filled with hope and the next crashing into a despairing certainty that he was playing the fool over a beautiful woman once again. But, whichever the case was, he was not about to give up. Not this time. However much it hurt, however foolish and duped and lovestruck he would appear, he had to find Damaris. He would not, could not, let her go until he had heard from her own lips that she did not love him.
He paused now and then to question someone he passed about seeing a post chaise headed this direction. Not everyone had seen it, but enough assured him that one had passed on the same route earlier that he believed he was continuing on the right path. As dusk fell, he began to worry that he might ride past them, that they would stop for the night and he would continue blindly on. So, despite the time it took, he began to stop at each inn along the way to see if Damaris was there. Fortunately, he thought, Damaris was a woman whom any man would have noticed and remembered.
At each stop he met with blank stares or head shakes until at last he slid down from his horse and asked the ostler his usual query and the lad’s eyes lit up in a telltale fashion.
“A swell mort?” the fellow asked. “A prime article?”
“The most prime,” Alec agreed, his spirits lifting a little. “Black hair and blue eyes. She likely was with a man.”
“That’s ’er,” the lad agreed. “They’re inside, gettin’ fed.”
“Are they, now?” Alec tossed him a coin and started toward the inn. His blood was up now, and even though his stomach turned to ice, thinking of what might lie before him, he strode forward rapidly, drawn toward Damaris like a magnet to true north.
He stepped inside to find the public room curiously empty. A few further steps took him into a hallway where a clot of people were gathered outside a closed door. On the other side of the door, there was a crash and a woman’s cry. Alec’s heart leapt into his throat.
“Damaris!” He shoved his way through the crowd. “What the devil’s going on here?”
They parted, and the man closest to the door turned toward him, his face relaxing as he recognized authority. “We don’t know, sir. It’s been going on like that for a bit. Shouting and screeching and banging about. But the door’s locked. We can’t get in.”
Alec shoved the man aside and crashed the heel of his boot against the door. The other man, presumably the innkeeper, let out a cry of protest, but Alec paid him no mind, just kicked the door again. There was another cry from within, and Alec threw every bit of strength he had against the door.
It crashed open. Alec saw Damaris on the floor, a man straddling her, pinning her to ground, his hand reaching obscenely for his crotch.
With a roar of rage, Alec charged into the room.
Damaris had closed her eyes, turning her face away from the sight of Barrett’s red face, stamped with lust, but at the sound of the door crashing open, her eyes flew open and she swung her head toward the door. She stared in shock and disbelief as Alec threw himself at Barrett. He slammed into the other man, tearing him off Damaris and onto the floor beside her, landing heavily on top of him.
Rearing up, Alec rained blows down upon the man’s face. Barrett’s nose broke with a sickening crunch, and blood spurted from it, soon joined by a stream of blood from a cut above his eyes and another from his split lip.
Damaris staggered to her feet and glanced over at the doorway, which was filled with a crowd of strangers, all staring in fascination at the sight of Alec pounding his fists into Barrett’s face. She turned back to Alec and could not deny a certain vicious satisfaction in seeing him destroy the man who had just capped off his crimes against her by trying to rape her.
But, a more rational part of her brain reminded her, she could not let Alec put himself in the position of killing a man. “Alec, no! Stop!” She went to him, grabbing his arm as he pulled it back. “Stop. You will kill him.”
He turned and looked up at her, his face stamped with such primitive bloodlust that it would have made most men quail. “That’s exactly what I mean to do,” Alec assured her, but when she stood firm, continuing to gaze at him calmly, his blazing eyes lost their wild look, and he rose to his feet. Casually stepping over Barrett’s inert body, he pulled her into his arms. “Are you all right?”
Damaris let out a choked cry and flung her arms around him, burying her face in his chest and giving way to a storm of tears. He cradled her against him as she cried, stroking her hair and back soothingly. “Shh, love, shh,” he murmured, kissing the top of her head. “It’s all right. You’re safe. He shan’t hurt you again.”
“I know. I know,” she managed to gasp out. “I was so scared.”
There was a collective gasp from the people still clustered at the doorway, and suddenly Barrett’s voice rang out. “You dox
y!”
Damaris and Alec whirled to see that while they were wrapped up in each other, Barrett had rolled away and pulled himself to his feet. He was standing against the wall, leaning back against it for support. Blood covered his face grotesquely, and one eye was already swelling. And in his trembling hand, pointing straight at Damaris, was a gun.
“You have ruined yourself now,” he went on, his words distorted by his swollen lips and battered jaw. “I have every right to shoot you and your fine—”
“Barrett, don’t!” Damaris cried. “Think! This will not help you.”
“Barrett!” Alec stiffened, his eyes narrowing.
“I disagree,” Barrett told her. “It will give me a great deal of pleasure.”
“It is I you want to shoot, not her,” Alec said calmly, sticking his hands into his pockets in a casual way and stepping in front of Damaris.
“Don’t worry. I intend to shoot both of you,” Barrett replied.
“Ah, then you have two pistols?” Alec asked. “Because, you see”—his hands swept up, still in his pockets, and two shots rang out simultaneously—“I do.”
Bright red blossomed on Barrett’s hand and chest. The gun went flying from his hand, firing harmlessly into the china cabinet, and Barrett stood for a moment, staring at Alec with a look of astonishment, before collapsing on the floor.
For an instant, everyone remained frozen. Then one of the women watching let out a high-pitched shriek and collapsed in hysterics into the nearest man’s arms. Alec pulled his hands out of his pockets, the emptied pistols still in them. He glanced from the man lying on the floor to the innkeeper.
“Is he—is he dead?” the innkeeper asked in hushed tones.
Alec strode over and dropped to one knee beside Barrett, reaching two fingers to his throat to check his pulse. “Yes, it would seem so.”
“Who is he?” The innkeeper came closer, staring at the body with a sort of frightened fascination.
“I’ve never seen him before,” Alec answered, and a flicker of his gaze to Damaris told her to keep silent.
The innkeeper turned toward Damaris. “What did you say to him, missus? Did you say his name?”
Alec answered before Damaris could open her mouth. “I believe what she said was, ‘You daren’t! Don’t!’”
“Ah…” The innkeeper nodded, his eyes going back to the dead body.
Damaris sat down hard in the nearest chair and watched as Alec opened the dead man’s jacket and reached into an inner pocket. He pulled out a silver card case and flicked it open, and his eyebrows rose slightly.
“Well, it seems as if his name was Dennis Stanley.” Alec snapped the case closed and dropped it onto Barrett’s still chest. He rose to his feet and turned his most lordly expression on the innkeeper. “I have no idea why, but this man abducted my guest out of the garden at Castle Cleyre a few hours ago.” He glanced at Damaris. “’Tis easy to guess what his purpose was.” He cast an expression of disdain at the body. “Obviously he was a man of low morals and no honor, but other than that, I know nothing about him. No doubt you should call for the coroner. I am not sure who your local magistrate is.”
“Judge Rickard, sir.”
“Ah, yes, I believe I have met him. Good fellow. Tell him to feel free to call on me at the castle if he has any questions. I shall be happy to attend the inquest, of course.” He patted the pocket of his jacket, then said, “Pardon me. I was out hunting when I received word of the crime, and I haven’t any cards on me. Just tell the judge it is Lord Rawdon at Castle Cleyre, should he need me.”
“Yes, my lord.” The innkeeper bobbed a nod of respect, clearly overawed by Alec’s title and manner.
“But now I must take my guest back to the castle to recover from this harrowing event. I fear it has been a dread ful shock to her nerves.”
“Of course, my lord.”
Alec had the post chaise brought around, with fresh horses harnessed to it, and he whisked Damaris out to the vehicle and handed her up into it. For a moment Damaris feared that he was going to ride his stallion outside the carriage, but as she watched, Alec spoke to one of the ostlers, handed him a gold coin, and climbed up into the post chaise with her. With a flick of his wrist, he closed the curtains on either side, then pulled Damaris into his lap, cradling her to his chest.
He bent his head to hers, pressing his lips against her forehead. “Sweet Lord, Damaris, I thought I had lost you.”
“Oh, Alec…” Tears began to flow from her eyes again, and she nestled deeper against him, clutching the lapels of his jacket with both her hands. “I was so scared. I could not believe it when you broke into the room!”
“That man was your—he was really Barrett Howard? I thought he was dead.”
“He was! I mean, I thought he was.” Damaris straightened up so that she could look into his face. “They told me he had died in a fire in an inn. I have believed him dead for the past eleven years. I nearly fainted when he walked up to me in the garden.”
“At the castle? He came to you at Cleyre?”
“Yes. At first I was stunned, but then it all made sense. It was he who sent those men after me.”
Alec’s eyes narrowed. “I should have known it was simply a man who desired you.”
Damaris let out a humorless laugh. “It wasn’t from desire, believe me. He apparently saw me at that ball at your house. He thought I was about to try to enter the ton, I think, and he was afraid I would recognize him and reveal who and what he really was. He was apparently engaged in the same sort of scheme he used when I met him, trying to deceive some heiress into marrying him. It would have been a disaster for him if I told everyone he was already married to me. The silly part was that I never even saw him. His secret would have been safe if he had just left me alone.”
“But why did you go off with him? Why did you not stay in the house when you came back inside? Why did you write me that letter?”
Damaris saw the flash of pain in his eyes, quickly shuttered, and she let out a low cry. “Oh, Alec!” She put her hands on either side of his face and leaned in to kiss him. “I did not want to hurt you, I swear it!”
She kissed his lips again, and he reached up to hold her head in place, sinking his mouth into hers possessively. It was a long time before they broke apart, and when they did so, their color was up and their breathing uneven. Alec closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against hers.
“Don’t ever leave me that way again,” he murmured. “I was nearly wild.”
“I’m sorry.” Tears choked her throat. “I did not want to. He threatened you.”
He raised his head, the old familiar look of arrogance, now so dear to her, settling on his features. “You thought I could not handle him? That he would get the best of me?”
“I thought he would shoot you,” Damaris retorted bluntly. “He said that if I did not go with him right then and there, he would seek a bill of divorce, and he would accuse you as the man with whom I had committed adultery. He would drag your name through the mud. And it would not be just you who suffered, you know that. Your entire family would be caught up in the scandal. All because of me! Because I was so foolish as to have married that blackguard! The only way I could stave him off was to go with him. I had to get him away from there, from you. I was afraid of what your temper might lead you to do.”
“I would have done exactly what I did. He was a dead man either way.”
“I didn’t want you to kill a man for me. I did not want to be the cause of your having his blood on your hands.”
“My dear girl.” Alec’s voice was tinged with faint amusement, and he picked up her hand and brought her fingers to his lips. “Did you really think it would cause me any regret to have ended that snake’s existence?”
Damaris glanced at him. “I don’t know. It seems it should.”
“He hurt you,” he said simply. “He deceived you; he took you from me; he was about to rape you. There is no way I would let him live.”
�
�I suppose I should not feel happy about that, but I do. I did not doubt that you could overcome him in a fair fight. But he was carrying a loaded pistol, and he said that if you came after us, he would shoot you. Any man can fall if taken by surprise and at a distance. I could not take that chance.”
“And so you wrote me that note.”
“Yes.” Tears sprang into her eyes again. “I am so sorry to have hurt you. I did not think, after that, that you would come for me.”
“I will always come for you.”
Damaris snuggled into him, feeling, finally, safe and warm. The rocking of the carriage lulled her, and she closed her eyes, drifting into sleep, secure in his arms.
Twenty-four
Damaris awakened when the carriage rolled to a stop in front of Castle Cleyre. Damaris sat up drowsily as Alec set her aside and climbed down from the carriage. Damaris followed him, looking up at the great stone edifice of the castle, its windows glowing warm and bright against the darkness. To her surprise, instead of giving her his hand to step down from the carriage, Alec reached in and swooped her up in his arms, carrying her up the steps to the door.
“Alec!” she protested, smiling. “Whatever are you doing? I am not an invalid.”
“Humor me.” He carried her inside, and she thought he would surely set her down there, but instead he started up the wide sweep of staircase.
She caught a glimpse of Lady Genevieve and Sir Myles popping out of the drawing room door and staring up the stairs after them, eyes wide with curiosity. Damaris closed her eyes again and put her head on his shoulder, grateful not to have to face any questions from Alec’s sister. Genevieve had never been friendly toward her, and Damaris suspected that the woman thoroughly disliked her now.
When he reached her room, Alec set Damaris down carefully on the bed, ringing for a maid to bring a tray of food and brandy as well.