by Bold, Diana
“Careful,” he said uneasily. “This stuff is strong.”
“Good,” she said, squaring her shoulders and holding it out for a refill.
Hesitantly, he poured another small portion into her glass and she drained that as well. Then she finally met his gaze. “We need to talk, Morgan. And I need to be a little drunk when we do so. Otherwise, I don’t think I’ll ever find the courage.”
He nodded nervously and sat down on a small sofa in front of the fireplace, patting the empty space beside him. “Come sit with me, darling.”
She bit her lip and gingerly perched on the edge of the sofa, as far away from him as she could get, refusing to meet his gaze. “I haven’t been honest with you. The things Winters said... they were all true. I need to tell you about my past.”
He took a deep breath and then let it out slowly. “Nothing that man said about you tonight matters to me in the slightest,” he told her, putting as much confidence as he could in his tone. “But if you feel that this is something you need to do, I’m ready to listen.”
A brittle laugh escaped her, and she hugged her arms around her as though she was cold, even though the fire blazed in the hearth. “I appreciate the sentiment, but I doubt you can even fathom the things I’m about to tell you.”
Memories of his stepfather’s abuse of his brothers nearly overwhelmed him. “I think you’d be surprised. Just because I grew up wealthy doesn’t mean I’ve escaped the ugliness of this world.”
She finally looked at him, tears welling up in her lovely green eyes. “Perhaps you’re right. Perhaps none of us do.”
He reached out and cupped her cheek tenderly. “Not when the ones who are supposed to protect us don’t. That’s one of the reasons why I want you in my life, in my children’s lives. I know you are fiercely protective and would never let something bad happen to someone you love.”
Love swelled within him, stronger than anything he’d ever felt for Anne. He loved Fiona. And the last of his fears fell away. No matter what she was about to tell him, they would make it work. He couldn’t lose her.
She leaned into his touch for a moment and then pulled away, blinking away her tears and visibly gathering herself. “Thank you. To hear you say that... it means everything.”
Resisting the urge to pull her into his arms once again, he simply waited, humbled by her strength.
Standing up, she crossed the room and stabbed the fire poker into the smoldering logs in the grate a few times, keeping her back toward him. “I never knew my mother. She died when I was very little. My earliest memories are of being alone in my father’s flat. Cold. Hungry.”
The logs popped suddenly, sending up a shower of sparks, and she started briefly.
“My father worked on the docks... when he wasn’t drunk. Whatever money he made, he drank. There was never enough to eat, and we were always on the brink of being evicted. He was rarely around, so from a very young age, I was constantly trying to find ways to make money myself.”
She shook her head and put the fire poker back, once again rubbing her hands over her forearms as though she was freezing. “Then one day, when I was sixteen, he came home and told me he’d made a deal with a man he’d met at the local pub. He sold me into a house of prostitution, and to this day, I’m not sure how much they paid him.”
As much as he’d steeled himself for this, he couldn’t help the small wordless sound of denial that escaped his lips. To know that she’d been sold, like a horse or cow, that her own father had cared more about drinking than his daughter’s life...
Casting a furtive glance in his direction, she moved as far across the room as she could, until the distance between them seemed almost unsurmountable. He knew he had to wait for her to finish, but he wanted to pull her into his arms so badly.
“The very first night, they sold me... my virginity... to a man who hurt me... Hurt something inside me. There was so much blood... I wanted to die. That’s why I can’t have children.” She brushed away the tears that were suddenly streaming down her cheeks. “But I was glad for it, because it was months before they could make me do it again. I was there for a little over six months before Adrian found me. I was his first rescue as Prometheus.” She laughed brokenly. “I don’t think he thought it through. I don’t think he had the slightest idea what to do with me in the beginning. But eventually, he decided to open Brookhaven, and I talked him into letting me stay to help.”
She finally turned to face him. “So, there you have it. The woman you’ve trusted with your children, the one you wanted to court... I’m not like Vanessa and Serenity. If people found out...”
He couldn’t stand to hear any more. He crossed the room in a handful of long strides and pulled her into his arms, hugging her fiercely. “It’s not your fault. None of it was your fault, and I still want you. This doesn’t change a thing.” His heart and soul howled for the pain she’d been through, and he wanted nothing more than to track down her father and every single bastard who’d used her and hurt her and kill them.
Perhaps he truly was a murderer.
She stiffened in his arms for a moment, then collapsed against him, her slim body shaking with sobs. “You don’t understand,” she whispered, her words muffled by his shirt and her sobs. “The things they made me do... I’m ruined, broken.”
He shook his head fiercely. Pressing his face against her hair, he prayed for the strength and wisdom to say and do the right things in the next few moments. Their entire future rested upon it. “You’re not. You’re perfect.”
They stared at each other for several long moments, and at last, some of her despair seemed to fade. “You are a far better man than I deserve,” she finally said softly.
“No,” he said, his own secrets clawing at his throat. “Don’t say that, my darling. We all have things in our past we’re ashamed of. I’m no different.”
She gave a brittle laugh and shook her head. “I can’t believe you’re not running away from me in horror.”
He held out his hand. “I’m not running away. I’ll be here forever, if you’ll only let me.”
FIONA STARED AT MORGAN’S hand, her emotions still roiling within her. She’d been so terrified of Morgan learning the ugly truth about her, but against all odds, this beautiful man was still standing here, wanting to pursue a marriage with her. She had no idea what other barriers might lay ahead, but for tonight, she wanted to believe that they could make it work.
With a sigh, she took his hand, then stepped forward and laid her head against his chest.
He wrapped his other arm around her, still holding her hand tightly.
All the fear and pain of the past seeped out of her, and she allowed herself to relax against him. She let his warmth and strength flow through her. To her great surprise, leaning on him didn’t make her feel weak. It made her feel stronger than she’d ever felt.
She didn’t understand why what she’d just revealed hadn’t sent him running, but she was so very grateful that it hadn’t. Love for him swelled within her, but she was not quite ready to say the words.
He stroked her hair gently, his tenderness bringing tears to her eyes.
“Your secret wasn’t the only one that was revealed tonight,” he finally said, his voice cracking a bit. “You learned something pretty terrible about me as well.”
She swallowed and lifted her eyes to look at him. “How can you possibly think I’d judge you for that? After what... after what I did tonight.”
She couldn’t let herself think about her knife plunging into Winters’ chest. Not yet. Not tonight. She knew she had to deal with what she’d done, that she’d taken a life, but she couldn’t bear to do that now. Not until she was much stronger than she felt at the moment. The fear that she could go to prison, that all the progress they’d made tonight with their talk would be pointless, still crippled her, but she was afraid to give voice to it.
“No,” he said with a shake of his head, drawing her back toward the sofa but keeping her close by his s
ide as he poured them both yet another glass of whisky. “I’ve never talked about this with anyone, even my brothers, and I think it’s time I did. I need you to know what happened.”
She took the glass but only sipped it this time, glad of the burn that worked its way through her body. “I’m ready to listen,” she said, repeating his earlier words, realizing now how freeing it was to actually have been able to tell him her darkest secret. She wanted to be able to give him the same sort of release.
He took a pensive sip of his own drink then set it down and turned to face her. “My father died when I was young. There was a fire at our country estate. I’m sure you know that he got me out first, then went back in for Adrian. He got him out, but my brother was badly burned in the process.”
She nodded. “Yes, I know.”
He sighed. “I think that was when it started, when the... guilt... began.”
“What were you feeling guilty about?” she asked softly, not quite understanding what he was trying to say.
“I felt guilty that Adrian had been burned instead of me. Why did he pick me up first? My life would have been so different if he hadn’t. Every time I looked at Adrian, it was a reminder of what could have happened to me.”
“You had no control over that,” she whispered. “I’m sure he didn’t put any thought into it. He probably just grabbed whichever one of you was closest.”
He sighed. “Perhaps, but I still felt terrible about it. All I wanted was to help Adrian, to make his life better. But because of his scars, Winters wouldn’t allow him to go away to school with Luke and me. He made him stay behind, so I wasn’t there to watch over him, and my mother, who should have, didn’t either. While we were gone, Winters... He hurt Adrian. Hurt him the way that you were hurt.”
She caught her breath. She’d always feared that something like that had happened to Adrian. He seemed to understand the children he rescued a little too much, and she’d always thought that was what made him so passionate about being Prometheus. But it was something else altogether to have it confirmed.
“He beat him, too. Tortured him in every possible way. He and Roger both. Luke and I didn’t know, not until we came home for a school break and he finally told us. And then Winters turned his abuse on Luke as well. But not me. Never me.”
She leaned into him, finally understanding what his guilt was about. “You feel guilty that you weren’t hurt the way they were.” How tragic that he’d somehow wanted to be a part of their suffering.
“I didn’t understand why they left me alone. It didn’t seem fair. I still don’t know why they left me alone.” His voice caught, but he somehow forced himself to go on. “We came up with the idea of Prometheus. We planned to make a masked avenger, someone who could scare them into stopping. We were so excited about the idea. It was a way to feel powerful, to feel like there was something we could actually do to save ourselves.”
Tears filled her eyes at the thought of the three Strathmore brothers, abused and neglected, banding together to find a way to survive.
“I was supposed to design the costume, and I was so proud to have a part in it, to have my artistic talents put to such a use. I made the cape and went up to the battlements to try it out, loving the way the wind swirled it about me. Then Winters came out onto the roof. He mocked me, thinking I was Adrian. I was so furious with myself for getting caught, for ruining everything.”
“You couldn’t have known he’d come up there,” she tried to soothe him. “It wasn’t your fault.”
He took another sip of whisky, his eyes still troubled. “He threw me over his shoulder, dangled me over the side, threatened to drop me.” He gave a bitter laugh. “I realize now he probably wouldn’t have done it. He only meant to scare me. But I was terrified. I thrust off his back with all my might, landing on the roof, but the force of it propelled him over the edge.”
“Oh, Morgan,” she whispered.
“But he still had hold of my cape. For a moment, our eyes met, but it was choking me, pulling me toward the edge. Maybe I could have saved him, but instead, I unfastened it...”
She threw her arms around him, hugging him as tightly as she could. “It was you or him, just like you told me earlier tonight. You did what you had to do to survive, and I am so glad you did, Morgan. Do you hear me? Surviving is not something you need to feel guilty about.”
He buried his face against her neck, his big body trembling against her. As she held him, realizing they’d both worried that they weren’t good enough, that their past made them somehow unworthy of being loved, a sense of peace came over her.
“I love you, Morgan. And nothing you’ve told me tonight can change that.” Saying the words made her realize that he hadn’t been lying when he’d said them. If she could love him even after knowing all his secrets, she finally believed he could love her after learning hers.
At last, he lifted his head and met her gaze, his blue eyes filled with both anguish and hope. “I love you, too, Fiona.”
She stood up and held out her hand. “Will you share my bed tonight? Will you hold me while I sleep? We’ll figure the rest of it out in the morning, but for tonight, I just need you by my side.”
He nodded and took her hand. “There’s nothing I’d like more.”
Chapter Nineteen
Morgan woke up slowly, blinking against a shaft of sunlight that slanted across the big bed from a window to his right. For a moment, he was disoriented... the windows in his bedroom were to the left of the bed... but then, he caught sight of a tendril of brilliant auburn hair weaving its way across his bare chest and he remembered.
Roger was dead. He and Fiona had told each other their darkest secrets and had admitted their love for each other, and they’d fallen asleep in each other’s arms.
Relief and hope swept through him, startling in its intensity. He didn’t know what the future held, but he knew without a doubt that Fiona would be at his side. That detail alone made the rest insignificant.
He snuggled deeper into the blankets, pressing himself against Fiona’s warmth, loving the silky softness of her bare skin against his own. He wanted this every night. Fiona... in his life. In his bed.
For another twenty minutes or so, he lay beside her, enjoying the scent and feel of her, but she slept on soundly, and he didn’t want to wake her. Besides, an idea had come to him, and he had much to do.
Yesterday’s aftermath needed to be addressed. Inspector O’Brien would no doubt arrive soon, and he had to be ready.
Returning to his room, he wrote notes summoning his brothers, handed them off to a footman to be delivered, then quickly dressed.
When he entered the morning room where breakfast was always served, he was surprised to find Allison waiting for him.
“Good morning,” he said in surprise. “What are you doing here?”
She glanced up at him from her place at the dining table, her blue eyes rimmed with dark circles. She’d obviously been crying, and he realized with a pang that she might actually be grieving Roger. He’d been her brother as much as he, Luke, and Adrian were, after all. There had been a time, before Roger had abducted her, when she’d been closer to Roger than she’d been to three of them.
“I wanted to come and see how Fiona was doing,” she said softly, with none of her usual disdain. He took a moment to really look at her and was surprised to realize that she’d somehow grown up while he wasn’t paying attention. She was nineteen now, a woman. Perhaps he did her a disservice by still seeing her as the spoiled brat she’d once been.
Still, he wasn’t ready to trust her just yet. “Why do you care?”
She bit her lip and pushed her food around her plate. “I’m trying to do better, be a better person,” she said insistently. “And part of that is inquiring after people who’ve been hurt. Especially when it was my brother who hurt them.”
Morgan filled a plate and sat down beside her. “That’s commendable, Allison. I’m glad you’ve seen that there is a problem and are tryi
ng to fix it.”
She flushed, and he realized she was probably struggling to bite her tongue at this very moment.
“Fiona is fine. Or at least I think she will be eventually. How are you?”
With a sigh, she gave up all pretense of trying to eat. “I know that Roger deserved what happened to him. He hurt so many people. But he was my brother. I will miss him.” Her eyes welled up with tears, and she blinked them rapidly away. “Mother is distraught, of course. I will never understand why she favored him so greatly.”
“Neither will I,” Morgan said, the mere thought of his mother stealing what little appetite he’d had. “But I would never think less of you for grieving over your brother.” No matter what a monster he was.
She nodded distantly. “I don’t think I ever truly understood the kind of person Roger was, even after he took me to France, until Quinn told me all the horrible things he’d done.”
“Quinn?” Morgan asked, raising a brow. It disturbed him somewhat to hear that she was on a first-name basis with the inspector, but they had shared a long trip home from France together last year. The man was honorable as they came, and he didn’t think anything had happened, but he hoped Allison hadn’t gotten any ideas.
Allison flushed even more. “Inspector O’Brien, I mean. He told me about the brothels, the children... I understand now, why you all hated Roger.”
“He did a lot of bad things,” Morgan agreed. “Some people care more about money than they do about people’s lives.”
She nodded, her face troubled. “Mama told me that I will be the new owner of those places, that I am the beneficiary of all Roger’s unentailed property and money.”
It would be difficult for whatever distant relative became the new Earl of Winters to take on the title without any funds. “What will you do?”
She shrugged. “Mama wants me to continue to run them. She’s still furious that Lucien cut her off, and she thinks the money will help fund her lifestyle.”