The Butterfly Formatted

by Vale, Victoria

  It came as both a relief and a torment when his two best friends were forced to leave him again, Adam to finish his final term and exams, Olivia to complete her own schooling. It never stood far from his mind that when she finally came back, it would only be for however long it took to prepare her to go out into the world and find a husband. Then, she would truly be lost to him forever.

  CHAPTER SIX

  livia tossed and turned amongst the bedclothes, the tremors wracking her body still as powerful as ever. Exhaustion weighed down her eyelids. Nevertheless, every time she felt as if she might be able to close her eyes and sleep for a bit, her body would betray her. She thought the trembling would never stop, nor the flashes of hot and cold that seized her, as well as the unbearable clatter of her teeth. Her skin itched and burned, as if venom poured out of the tiny follicles where fine hairs grew. She ached everywhere, from the top of her head to the tips of her toes, from her skin to as deep as her bones. Most acute of all, the throb of her mutilated forearms resounded with every beat of her heart, reminding her of what she’d done to herself. Niall and Maeve changed her bandages as best they could while she shivered. The pull of her skin knitting itself back together rankled with a persistent itch.

  From time to time, her gaze went to the washstand across the room, upon which a bottle of laudanum sat amongst clean linens and other vials. Her mouth practically watered for its taste, and despite the fact that the glass container had been corked, she could swear she smelled it, sickly-sweet and noxious. Her gut clenched and twisted as she curled into herself and closed her eyes, determined to fight the urges demanding she leave the bed and lurch to the washstand, where she might unstop that bottle and drink to her heart’s content.

  Her dreams were as vivid as ever, though she now found that her waking hours had begun to untangle from them, so that she had an easier time discerning reality from the terrors of her mind. It was what kept her in bed, what gave her the strength to refuse her own self. This was what she’d wanted. Freedom from the addled intertwining of past and present, the inability to tell reality from nightmare. She could never remember the things she did during her fits of terror, but had been told that she sometimes hurt others as well as herself. Thankfully, she had not harmed her own daughter, but the fear that she might stayed her hand. It kept her from the enticing poison beckoning from across the room, offering sweet relief.

  For Serena’s sake, as well as her dear brother and precious Niall, she must endure.

  Thinking of the people who loved and cared for her so well, she opened her eyes once more and searched the room, realizing that one of them must be here. She was not entirely certain how long she’d been abed, suffering through withdrawal, but knew she was never left alone. Every time she opened her eyes, someone was there to soothe her, reassure her, coax her into drinking broth and tea.

  This time, it was Adam she found at her bedside, his face drawn into an expression of worry. Noticing that she was awake, he rose and approached the bed, sinking onto its edge. She reached for him, grasping his shirt in her fist and holding on for dear life. From the day her mother had died, Adam had been her strength, the person she could always look to for reassurance and even guidance at times. Not a perfect man by any means, he had been the first to love her—or rather, the first she could remember loving her, as she’d been a babe still at her mother’s breast when her father had died. No matter his faults, there was nothing he would not do for her. In her lucid moments, she suffered no end of guilt over not being able to reciprocate.

  She sighed with relief when he began mopping at her sweat-soaked face with a cool, damp cloth.

  “Shh … I’ve got you, butterfly. It’s all right.”

  Butterfly. A pet name he had given her when they’d been children, due to her skill at the harp. She’d played masterfully, even from a young age, and the way her hands moved over the strings had earned her the name. Her heart lurched at the reminder of how long it had been since she’d touched an instrument. Also adequate at the violin and piano, her life had always been filled with music. Art had been another passion of hers—particularly drawing with charcoal. Those pastimes felt so far removed from her, like the practices of some other girl … someone she no longer knew.

  A violent shudder ripped through her, but Adam never let her go, still gently cleansing her face. Closing her eyes for a brief moment, she felt the darkness crowding in on her, her cravings making her head pound. She needed something, a distraction, anything to keep her thoughts away from laudanum’s call.

  “T-talk to me,” she urged.

  “About what?” he replied, his scowl making her want to laugh.

  Adam had never been one for unnecessary conversation. He’d much rather sit about and brood over whatever had him in a dudgeon at any given moment.

  “A-anything,” she managed between clatters of her teeth. “D-distract m-me.”

  He looked away, his gaze focused somewhere across the room. Something was on his mind and it had nothing to do with her—she could see it. They knew each other well, and so Olivia realized before he even spoke that he’d already decided to lay whatever it was at her feet.

  “Very well,” he said. “Serena seems to like it here. She has been having a wonderful time exploring the house with Daphne. So, you do not need to worry about her lingering outside your door.”

  Ah, so this was all about Lady Daphne Fairchild. He would not have mentioned her name if she were of no consequence.

  “D-Daphne?” she said, hoping to pry for more information. “B-Bertram’s sister?”

  In her more lucid moments back at Dunnottar, she had heard snatches of conversation regarding her brother’s vendetta against the family of the man who had ruined her. Lady Daphne had simply been a part of Adam’s plan—making her his plaything and publicly flaunting the fact being the final blow. However, weeks had passed since then. There were so many things she did not know about what had gone on during Lady Daphne’s time in Scotland.

  The look he gave her in response would have made her burst out laughing if she could manage it. As it was, she could barely talk through her chattering teeth. It never failed that those who knew of her malady of the mind tended to forget she had not become a dimwit. Just because she often forgot where she was or who stood before her, or had fits of madness, did not mean she’d become a simpleton who was blind, deaf, or dumb.

  She issued a sarcastic snort and nudged him with her elbow. “Sh-she looks j-just like S-Serena … It w-wasn’t h-hard to w-work out.”

  He sighed. “Forgive me, butterfly. I did not think you’d understand. Daphne … she came to Dunnottar seeking answers, and I exploited her to retaliate against Bertram. To repay him for what he did to you.”

  She closed her eyes again, this time trying to keep the pain his revelation caused out of her eyes. It would hurt him to see that she did not approve of his actions one bit. It had been one thing to hear about it; it was quite another to have him admit to her, out loud, that he’d purposely set out to ruin an innocent woman because of what had been done to her. However, her hazy recollection of those first days after her return from the asylum made it easy to understand his motives. He’d done what he thought was right to even the score, and after all the pain and loss he had suffered, it made sense for him to react the way he had to losing a part of her.

  “And now?” she prodded, needing to hear him tell her he was done, that it was all over. No good could come from continuing to pursue vengeance. All she wanted was to move forward with her life, and she wanted Adam to move on with her.

  “Now, I want to keep her,” he murmured, still avoiding her gaze.

  A spark of something warm surged in her chest, and she nearly grinned as she read deeper than the words he’d said. Whatever had happened between him and Lady Daphne, he’d been affected by it … so much so, that he had not been willing to simply let her go when it had all ended.

  A sly smirk pulled at the corner of her mouth, even as she went on shivering.
“Y-you always were p-possessive of the people you l-love.”

  Finally, he looked at her, eyes narrowing in annoyance. That only further confirmed what she suspected. He would not grow so agitated if he did not have some tender feelings for Lady Daphne.

  “Love has naught to do with it,” he snapped. “I like having her in my bed, so she will be. That is the end of it.”

  “Only y-you came all the way to L-London for her.”

  That he still looked surprised to know she understood all this annoyed her to no end. People talked of such things with her nearby all the time, likely because they thought she was not listening. Going a bit mad had, apparently, reduced her to the status of arm chair whenever people discussed important matters.

  “I came to London for Bertram. She is the best way to strike out at him.”

  It all came back to this. Adam might care for Lady Daphne, but he would never allow himself to give in to it because of her connection to the man who had ruined Olivia. She could find no fault with the woman if she loved Adam. If Lady Daphne loved her brother, then Olivia would be more than willing to look past her family connections. After all, it was not Daphne’s fault she’d been born into such a family.

  “L-let it go, H-Hart. Or y-you’ll d-die alone.”

  Adam’s jaw clenched, a muscle in his cheek twitching. Agitation furrowed his brow and carved his handsome face with deep lines.

  “I will die knowing I delivered justice for you and Serena.”

  The fatigue began to overwhelm her again, so she closed her eyes. Her heart grew heavy for him, as she realized that anger would destroy her brother. It worried her that even if she managed to get better somehow, she might still lose him. Could he not see that vengeance only offered them so much comfort? Once it was over, how would they ever find peace?

  “N-not enough,” she managed before allowing her head to grow heavy against the pillows.

  Deep sleep was impossible, so she rested, shivering and shaking beneath the bedclothes. For a long time, the room remained silent, so she simply lay listening to Adam breathe and taking comfort in his nearness.

  Eventually, more weight was added to the bed, comforting arms coming around her. She did not fight against it, only knowing that the embrace felt familiar and that the pressure of arms tight around her finally helped her to lie still. Once the shivering abated, she was finally able to find peace in sleep.

  When she awakened, it was Niall who lay in bed with her, his big arms wrapped tight around her body. For the first time in what she assumed must be days, she lay still, warmth suffusing the surface of her skin and sinking deep. The light peeking out from between slightly parted curtains told her she’d slept through the night—a rare occurrence, even when she’d relied upon the laudanum to put her down.

  Tipping her head back to look at Niall, she frowned to find dark circles beneath his eyes. Reaching up with a shaking, tentative hand, she cupped his cheek, then ran one finger along the scar on the left side of his face. The mark never failed to spark guilt deep within her, despite how many years it had been. It served as a reminder of the many times they’d hurt one another, all the ways she continued to hurt him, even when she could not help it. He had always deserved better than someone who could only bring him pain. Even knowing this, she had never been able to stay away.

  1814

  Five years earlier…

  Olivia held the hem of her skirts aloft as she trudged over the grounds of Dunvar House, glancing over her shoulder to ensure she had not been followed. Night had fallen hours ago, the moon peeking out from behind a thick covering of clouds. The cool evening air of early spring came as a relief after the hours she had spent cloistered inside the small but adequate ballroom inside of Dunvar House. The soirée had been planned by herself and the housekeeper at the insistence of her stepfather. The earl had declared the need for a little coming out right here in Edinburgh before her journey to London for her very first Season, where she would be presented at court before a whirlwind schedule of social gatherings.

  It was there, in the city filled with the members of the beau monde, that Olivia was expected to find a husband.

  As she made her way toward the stables, she couldn’t help feeling a bit nervous over the entire thing. For certain, she was excited about journeying to London, where under the watchful eyes of her chaperones—a cousin from her mother’s side of the family and his wife—she would indulge in everything the city and social Season had to offer. An entire wardrobe of elegant clothing had arrived weeks ago, just after she’d returned home from school following her last term. Everything had been arranged, from this coming-out ball to the court attire she must wear for her presentation, right down to a list of eligible bachelors her cousin thought might suit her.

  Finding the doors of the stable hanging open, she quickened her steps, her pulse fluttering as she thought of the man hidden away inside. Something had changed between them last year, on the night that Conall had caught them together and scarred Niall’s face. As promised, he had stopped avoiding her, and whenever she had returned home on holiday, she’d heard not a whisper of him sneaking off with maids. If it was something he got up to whenever she went away, Olivia at least appreciated that he kept her from knowing about it.

  There had been the occasional kiss whenever they found themselves alone, soft presses of their lips turning into a frantic joining of mouths, writhing tongues, panted breaths and busy hands. To her annoyance, there had never been anything beyond that. Despite having been practically raised in a stable, Niall proved the perfect gentleman with her, never slipping a hand beneath her skirts or into her bodice … even though it was plainly obvious that he wanted to. It was as charming as it was exasperating.

  Pausing just within the stable, she spied the ladder leading up into the hayloft and smiled. She had never come here at night, seeking him out in the darkness. But, when she had escaped the ballroom, desperate to be away from the crowd inspecting her before her sale on the Marriage Mart, this had been the only place she’d wished to be.

  So, she made her way to the ladder, carefully holding her skirts up around her knees so that she did not trip over them while climbing. Once she had emerged through the opening to the hayloft, she spied Niall seated in the square, open window overlooking the back of the stable, paddocks, and land stretching beyond. The moonlight cast his silhouette in perfect form, outlining his bulky frame and the wisps of midnight-black hair falling into his eyes. The white of his shirt gleamed in the moonlight, the rest of him cast in dark shadow. Nearby, she faintly made out the place where he often slept, old, worn sheets and a quilt laid over an improvised mattress of hay.

  The wooden floorboards of the loft creaked when she stepped onto them, alerting him to her presence. He turned his head to glance at her over his shoulder.

  Despite knowing he likely couldn’t see her well from this distance, she smiled at him. “Stablemaster for an entire year, and still, you sleep in the hayloft.”

  He chuckled, inclining his head toward his makeshift bed. “More comfortable than my mattress at home. Besides, the horses like the company, and so do I.”

  “Should I leave you and the horses alone, then?” she teased.

  Adam had promised to make excuses for her should someone discover her missing, and she needed this time away to get herself together. All the better if she did not have to do it alone. Besides, this might be one of her last chances to be alone with Niall before going to London. It might be her last time alone with Niall at all.

  He laughed, motioning for her to join him. “They have me all to themselves during the day. Tonight, they can share me with you.”

  Her shoulders sagged as she let out a relieved sigh, coming forward to join him near his window. He sat up straight, drawing in his long legs to make room for her in the little alcove he occupied. At his side sat a stack of worn books, tomes she had purchased for him on her trips home from school.

  His gaze made her cheeks flush, his appreciation for
her attire clear.

  “You look beautiful, Livvie … too bonny to be sittin’ in a hayloft with me.”

  She had chosen the white satin ball gown herself, pairing it with her mother’s pearls and matching white gloves with pride, had pinned white muslin flowers in her hair thinking of how they would stand out against her dark locks. The ensemble had earned her many compliments throughout the night—most more flowery than the one she’d just received. And still, she had not felt half as lovely as she did right now, with Niall setting his weighted stare upon her.

  “Are ye not enjoyin’ yer comin’ out?”

  Drawing her knees up to her chest and resting her chin on them, she sighed. “I suppose. It is only that I’ve just realized how quickly everything is happening. When I was in school, it felt as if time moved so slowly. I could not wait for it all to be over so that I could go out into the world and … well, I don’t know what, exactly.”

  “Find a husband?”

  She snorted, shaking her head. “I know that is what I am supposed to do, but now that I am here, it feels as if there ought to be more. Here I stand, a year or less away from the expectation becoming some faceless man’s wife, and it has occurred to me that I have hardly lived. I have done appallingly little with my life.”

  Niall frowned, studying her as if attempting to read a foreign language. “Ye’ve done plenty. And ye have the whole world ahead of ye, Livvie. London’ll be a grand adventure.”

  “I suppose,” she relented. “But, it will all come to an end once I marry. Mary Watson—she shared my room at school—says her sister Elizabeth married an absolute beast of a man. She’s regretted her decision every day since the wedding. I do not want to end up like her.”