Dare to Love

by Alleigh Burrows

  Nivea sank down next to him on the bench. Without a word, she waited for him to continue. Not speaking to him, not looking at him. Just waiting. It appeared there was no way out. Why not just tell her? Shock her. Show her the world isn’t the pretty little fairy tale she imagined.

  Keeping his tone deliberately casual, he began. “I was the youngest of five, the only boy in a gaggle of girls. My mother was surprisingly involved and we all took our lessons together, learning to dance, paint, arrange flowers, and become accomplished musicians. Everything a young lady of gentle birth needs to be a successful wife.”

  “But…but, you were a boy. You can’t have been expected to do everything your sisters did”

  Dare sneered. “The fact that I was a boy did not affect my mother a whit. You would no doubt be amazed at my talent for embroidery.”

  “Oh, no,”—she stifled a giggle—“really?”

  He nodded, closing his eyes at the embarrassment that welled inside him.

  “How did your father feel about that?”

  The question started his blood pounding. Unable to sit still, he leapt to his feet and began pacing. “Ah, there’s the rub. My family’s once vast estate had been decimated over the years by poor management and uncontrolled gambling. My father was determined to return our title and our fortune to its former glory. He learned of an opportunity in the New World and decided it would be the best way for him to earn untold riches without other nobility knowing he was getting his hands dirty, so to speak. He left for the West Indies when I was in swaddling clothes and rarely made an appearance.” He hesitated.

  “Go on,” she urged.

  Yes, go on. Why not share the most traumatic moments of his life with her? What harm could possibly come of that?

  His heart was pounding in his throat, choking him. No, he couldn’t do it.

  Then he looked into her soft, pleading eyes, and the words tumbled out. “My father returned for good when I was seven. He had established a profitable empire in the islands and wanted to flaunt his success.”

  Resentment clogged his throat. “He had been a slave owner there. A cruel taskmaster, earning his money on the backs of his human chattel. You can imagine he was none too pleased to arrive home and find his son on the pianoforte serenading the neighbors.”

  Nivea’s hands flew to her mouth as she realized what his reaction must have been.

  “Yes. He was furious. The beatings began almost immediately. As the sounds of applause drifted through the hallway, my father ordered me outside. The first punch knocked me to the ground.”

  “What? He hit you? With his fist?”

  Dare nodded.

  “But you were just a child.”

  “Not a child…a son. His son. And he wanted me to be a man.”

  “Surely not by use of his fists!”

  “Oh, I was to learn that was not his most painful weapon,” he snarled.

  “Please do not tell me.” Her face had gone pale and she rose from the bench and tried to turn away.

  “Oh, no. You wanted to hear.” He swung her back to look at him, forcing her chin up with his fingertips. “He had a special treat for me in his bags. Luckily, he had not yet unpacked, because his fury was so great that day, I likely would not have survived. “

  Fear and tears filled her eyes. He could tell she didn’t want to ask, but was powerless to stop herself. “What was in his bags?”

  He dropped his hand and stared off into the distance. Nivea chewed on her lip but remained silent. Even the wind had stilled, as though it, too, was waiting for him to answer.

  Taking a deep steadying breath, he answered, “His whip.”

  Her eyes widened in horror. “His whip? Surely not.”

  Dare did not move.

  “He did not whip you,” she choked out. When he didn’t answer she asked in a desperate tone, “Like a riding crop?”

  “Oh, no, a full-length, corded rope.” He extended his arms six feet apart before calmly continuing, “Everything I learned in the first seven years of my life was now a shameful embarrassment to my father. Every joy, every talent, every soft emotion displayed my inability to become a man. My father spent the next few years beating me into the type of son he wanted. And he succeeded. I am a man.” He crossed his arms, daring her to disagree.

  When she didn’t respond, he added, “So, you see, my piano playing is not an option. I never play. For anyone.”

  Nivea crumpled onto the bench, her head bowed. He’d shocked her well and good. She didn’t move until the sun ducked behind a cloud and she shivered, breaking the spell. Then she blurted out, “Didn’t your mother help? Did she try and protect you?”

  He snorted. “My mother? One could not ask for a worse ally. Angry at my father’s abandonment for all those years and his attitude toward her childrearing abilities, she attempted to punish him…through me, of course. She would complain about how she missed me and wanted us to stay close. She would charm me into playing for her or helping in the garden. Invariably, my father would find out. The mandatory punishment would be followed by an arduous lesson in manly pursuits—broadswords, hunting, or boxing. Only gambling was excluded, as a disgraceful waste of money. That was how we lost our fortune.”

  Dare realized that was what stung the most. His mother, who he had loved and trusted, hadn’t protected him. While his father’s treatment of him was physically painful, at least he had a reason—he wanted Dare to become a man. Her attitude was selfish, caring about no one except herself. As difficult as that was to accept, it had taught him a valuable lesson. Women were not to be trusted.

  And yet, he was here talking to a woman, spilling his secrets. It made no sense. He had no reason to trust her. He should leave before he made an even greater fool of himself.

  But before he could get away, Nivea drew his attention once again. “You say you weren’t allowed to gamble, yet I know you do. In fact, I’ve heard you are quite skilled.”

  He couldn’t help but smirk. “Yes, that’s true. I do take perverse delight in gambling.”

  A bitter smile crossed her lips. “I don’t blame you.”

  Her response was unexpected.

  “So,” he growled, “you are not adverse to breaking the fifth commandment? Honor thy father? I am surprised at you.”

  Her eyes flashed a fiery blue. “He forfeited God’s protection the first time he laid a whip on you.”

  “Interesting interpretation but I’m certain he would disagree. Still, it is no matter. I am no longer under his thumb and can do as I please.”

  A strong breeze loosened her hair and sent it tangling around her face. With a frown, she gathered it in a messy bundle and pinned it back into place. He hoped the matter was now closed, but when her hands stilled and her brow furrowed, he knew she wasn’t done tormenting him.

  “So, is that why William invited you to spend your holidays here? To protect you?”

  Fury surged through him again. With one quick step, he leaned into her face and hissed, “Absolutely not! William knows nothing about this! Nobody does.”

  At her horrified expression, he straightened and stepped back. He would have to pull himself together. Forcing a smile, he said, “I was fortunate that William enjoyed my company. Whenever he offered me the option of joining him here, I took it. Gladly.”

  “But didn’t your family want you home once you’d proven yourself a man grown? Wasn’t your father impressed by who you had become?”

  The question further sparked the anger that simmered, always.

  “Proud? Proud of me?” he snarled. “No, that is not an emotion that has ever been expressed.”

  “I simply don’t understand. You are smart and accomplished. William has repeatedly confessed he would not have gotten through Harrow without your help. What more did he want?”

  “Nothing. He wanted nothing from me. He accomplished the task he’d set out to do and could move on. He turned his attention to a steady stream of mistresses, which he paraded in front of my moth
er.”

  “Oh, goodness. How did she tolerate that?”

  His laugh was dark. “Her response was to hurl every valuable we owned at him. God, he hated that. He valued his possessions above all else.”

  For years, decades really, he had hidden this. Now, he was assailed by the memories of the hideous battles he’d witnessed on a regular basis. His parents couldn’t be in the same room without violence erupting. One sister had almost lost an eye when a shard from a shattered vase sailed over the dinner table.

  His legs weak, he lowered himself onto the bench.

  There was no reason he should be sharing any of it with Nivea. All his suffering was in the past and would remain there. Eager to restore his composure, Dare flicked his wrist in dismissal. “As long as my father received good reports from the school, he had no interest in my activities. I was free to come and go as I wished. It will not surprise you that I wished to go.

  Nivea rested her hand on his. “Oh, Dare, I’m so sorry. No one should suffer like that. I’m so glad you found solace here.”

  He was so stunned by her reaction, he didn’t even remove his hand. He had been weak and worthless, never good enough to please his father. Knowing he was tainted, he’d erected a wall around himself and vowed to block out all emotion. No one would guess he was anything less than the image he’d perfected—the most arrogant and imperious, Lord Landis. Revealing his secret should have provoked scorn, not sympathy.

  But chancing a glance in her direction, her clear blue eyes were filled with concern. Her thumb stroked his knuckles, shooting warmth up his arm. And a breeze stirred her hair, setting it to dance along her generous décolletage. One curl even had the temerity to dip inside the bodice of her cambric riding shirt.

  It was quite a picture. A very sweet, desirable picture.

  And it caused him to lose his mind.

  Kiss her.

  He was so startled by the thought, he leapt up from the bench.

  Nivea’s eyes flew open wide. “What’s wrong?”

  God in heaven she must think I’m a complete bedlamite.

  Here, she had just pried his most shameful secrets from him and now he wanted to kiss her? Ha! She’d probably slap him for being a pathetic coward. Not to mention, the Horshams were the closet thing he had to a family. And she was William’s sister. His sister! He had very little morality when it came to women, but he could never damage the friendship he had with William. Obviously, desire, interest, lust, or whatever crazy reaction he was experiencing must be squelched immediately.

  He had to get away. Now.

  Taking a deep breath, Dare summoned his most imperturbable expression. “Forgive me. I should not have burdened you with this. It was nothing. Ancient history. We need never speak of it again.”

  With that, he gave her a curt bow and strode back toward the house without a backward glance. By the time he made it to his room, he was in a fury. He slammed the door and pounded his fists on his head until it throbbed.

  What, in Devil’s name, was wrong with me? What was it about that woman that made me open up and bare my soul to her? Hell and damnation, I will never be able to show my face here again.

  No doubt, Nivea was tracking down her brother right now, relishing the fact that she had gossip on the indomitable Lord Landis. This information was too delicious.

  He groaned out loud. Now, I’ll have nowhere to go on blasted holidays… Good God, I can’t even eat dinner here tonight.

  Letting out a growl, he decided to pack up and leave immediately.

  He rang the bell for his manservant. Then he rang again. God’s blood, where was he?

  At that, a timid knock came at the door.

  “Come in!” he bellowed.

  An unfamiliar young man peered in the door.

  “Where is Jackson?”

  “Begging your lordship’s pardon. Jackson is indisposed at the moment. Bad pudding, he claims, although Cook won’t hear a word of it. May I send up someone else to assist you?”

  Dare growled in frustration, causing the young man to take a step backward into the hallway. “No. I am fine. Never mind,” he answered sharply.

  “Yes, sir.” The servant darted from the room.

  Dare threw himself down on the bed and tried to determine how to make the best of this. He could claim he had a fever. He could accuse Nivea of having a fever. He could laugh it off as a joke. But he was fairly certain none of those would work. His thoughts grew more and more sluggish as his eyelids grew heavier. Before he could come to a suitable conclusion, he drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep.

  The sound of someone repeatedly clearing his throat brought Dare around. The darkness confused him, and he sat up in alarm.

  “I am sorry, milord. It is time for dinner. Do you wish to join the Horshams downstairs? Or should I make your excuses?” Jackson stood near the bed, an anxious look on his face.

  What time was it? Why was he lying on his bed with his boots on? Dare shook his head to clear away the cobwebs of sleep. Oh yes. He’d confessed his deepest darkest secrets to Nivea, and she had probably spent the better part of the afternoon regaling everyone in earshot with his embarrassing tale.

  There was nothing to be done about it now. He would face his doom with all the grace and elegance he could muster. And arrogance. He could hide a world of sins with a mask of arrogance.

  Chapter 14

  Most everyone was already seated when Dare entered the dining room. Pasting on the sardonic sneer that had held him in good standing all these years, he walked to his seat with studied grace. Accepting the large platter of meat handed to him, he placed a small strip of venison on his plate, although the thought of food sickened him. Nervous about what he might find, he glanced to the head of the table. The earl and his wife were chatting with Nicholas’s father. Next to them, William was excitedly discussing horses with Abby. And Nivea, damn her to hell, was talking to Briar.

  Well, that was good. No one was remarking on his arrival. There were no scornful glances or goading insults. Apparently, Nivea hadn’t had time to unveil his secrets. Yet.

  But she was watching him. Their eyes met, briefly, and she gave him a hesitant smile. There was no look of triumph in her face. Still, a prickle of fear danced down his spine. It was only a matter of time before he became a laughingstock.

  Focusing his attention on the plate in from of him, he gulped down some food, eager to escape and strategize his next move.

  As soon as the meal was over, he darted for the door. Just steps away from the exit, he flinched when a gentle hand settled on his arm.

  “Are you all right?”

  It was Nivea, with her sweet, sympathetic eyes, probing, always probing into his life. Dare slid his patented sneer into place. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?” He hoped his haughty expression would drive her away. It had in the past.

  He stifled a groan when, instead, she continued, “I did not mean to upset you. Please accept my apology.”

  He stared down at her. Surely, she must be mocking me. He’d bared his soul to her and now she was the one to apologize? But, as always, her face was masked with concern. She’s good. Very good. Who knew that William’s sister was such an accomplished actress.

  Struggling to keep all inflection out of his voice, he replied, “It is of no consequence. I haven’t given it a moment’s thought. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

  Nivea wasn’t fooled. How horrible that Dare had reverted to his usual harsh facade. He must be truly hurting now that she had opened old wounds. She wanted to help, but one look at his face, tight and forbidding, told her that sympathy would not be appreciated. He hadn’t spoken with anyone at dinner. No witty repartee, no banter with his friends. What had she done?

  Sleep did not come easily that night. Thoughts of Dare’s painful childhood haunted her as snatches of memories flickered through her mind. Now, all his odd behavior made sense. His relentless control. His remoteness. And his utter disdain for marriage and family. How could he possibly
imagine a contented home life after such a brutal upbringing?

  As she tossed and turned in bed, the clock on her mantle chimed two. Then three. Still she could not reconcile he had suffered this pain all these years without anyone suspecting.

  As she was finally dozing off, another memory emerged. She recalled Dare’s fierce reaction several years ago when Joseph made the mistake of introducing him once as Lord Landis, Earl of Havenshire.

  Dare had exploded. “Never refer to me as earl again! My father extends me no respect, and I refuse to accept so much as a courtesy title from him. Until his death, when I am saddled with the Raynsforth title, I answer to Lord Landis and nothing else.” Then he had stormed away, leaving everyone staring in stunned silence. Joseph had made light of it, of course, but Dare had barely spoken to him for days afterward. Now Nivea was afraid of what his reaction would be to her.

  She’d finally drifted off around four o’clock. As a result, instead of rising early as she’d hoped, she woke up well past breakfast. She raced downstairs, desperate to see him, yet having no idea what she would say once he did appear. How did you restart a conversation about such a traumatic event? Were there any words that would help?

  In the end it didn’t matter. Only her brother was in the dining room, enjoying a hearty plate of kippers and toast.

  “Good morning, Nivvy, you’re up later than normal,” he greeted her, waving a fork in her direction.

  She couldn’t very well tell him why she’d had such a restless night, so she made up an excuse. “I think all the excitement over the last few days has caught up to me. I decided to take advantage of the quiet morning and stay in bed.” Putting a few slices of toast on her plate, she joined him at the table. “Did I miss anything? Has anyone left this morning?” she asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

  “No, the Abbingtons may head home later today, but you can still catch them before they go.”

  She tried to look interested, but feared she failed miserably. Fortunately, William did not notice anything amiss. It was blatantly obvious to her now how unobservant her brother really was. She could not imagine being friends with someone for over a decade and not having an inkling about his past.