The Scoundrel Who Loved Me

by Laura Landon

  “Perhaps that would be best. Millie won’t let me get out of bed at all tomorrow if I overdo it today.”

  They walked a few feet further and sat on a narrow bench. “Ah, the sun,” she said when they were seated. “The warmth feels wonderful.”

  “I do agree. There’s a small pond just in front of us. You can see the ripples caused by the fish swimming close to the surface.”

  “Oh, it sounds lovely.”

  They sat in silence for several moments, neither of them speaking. There was a naturalness in their closeness, as if they belonged together. As if they understood each other’s thoughts without having to explain them. As if there were no need for words.

  And there truly was not. They sat close together on the bench, her hand still tucked beneath his elbow. Close enough that he might even feel her heart thundering in her breast. The liberating walk, the sun, the feel of this good man’s arm guiding her, protecting her, combined to serve up messages of joy and gratitude and a new strain of affection she welcomed with an open heart.

  “Thomas?” Cleo said sotto voce. She didn’t wait for him to answer. “I need you to kiss me.”

  Thomas lifted his elbow slightly away to release her hand for only a moment before he captured it with his hand and held it. “Are you sure?”

  “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

  He hesitated as if debating the wisdom of kissing her, then he shifted on the bench and lowered his head until his mouth covered hers.

  His kiss wasn’t gentle. How could it be when their desire for each other was filled with desperation? When the passion they shared was teeming with a hunger that was all-consuming?

  Thomas’s lips angled over hers and his mouth opened atop hers. Cleo knew what he wanted. She knew what he demanded of her and she was more than willing to answer his mandate. Her lips parted and his tongue breached her entrance.

  Their tongues met. They touched. They battled, and wave after wave of silken emotion surged through her. She couldn’t get enough of him, couldn’t get close enough to him.

  He deepened his kiss and the passion that awakened inside her was her undoing. A moan echoed in the silent whispers of the breeze and Cleo realized the sound had come from her.

  She was losing control. She wanted him too badly to rein in her emotions. Each earth-shattering kiss took her to another level of passion, and she was afraid she might shatter into a million pieces when Thomas kissed her once more. And she did.

  Cleo offered him her heart with each answering kiss. She didn’t want him to doubt her feelings. She was desperate to show him that she loved him with her whole heart.

  She encouraged him to deepen his kisses. And he did. Again and again he kissed her until their breathing came in small wrenching gasps.

  Cleo wrapped her arms around his neck and raked the fingers of one hand through his hair. Then, in a calculated move, she pressed the palm of her left hand against his cheek. His right cheek. The cheek that was scarred from the fire.

  Chapter Eight

  It took Thomas a moment to realize what she’d done. When he did, his response was violent. He tore his mouth from hers and with a keening cry of a wounded animal, he bolted from the bench. He ripped the sling from his shoulder and flung it with an angry oath into the bushes.

  He didn’t want her to know. He’d done everything in his power to keep his hideousness a secret from her. Now, everything had changed. Now she knew why he could never be hers.

  For a moment, he considered walking away from her, but that would solve nothing. Now that she knew, he had to face the future he’d known was inevitable all along.

  “Thomas?”

  He didn’t answer. He couldn’t yet. All he could manage was to turn to face her. All he could manage was to look at the change in the way she looked at him now that she knew. But what he saw startled him.

  There was no fear in her expression. There wasn’t the revulsion that he’d expected. Only a sincere longing to show him she accepted him as he was.

  He watched as she took a step toward him. Her steps were tentative, as if she was unsure of her footing, but she didn’t stop or slow. She intended to come to him, to show him she had no intention of walking away from him. She was almost to him when she stumbled on the uneven walk and struggled to find her footing.

  Thomas caught her and pulled her into his arms. He held her close to him and she wrapped her arms around him and buried herself against him.

  Thomas knew she heard his heart as it thundered beneath her cheek. He felt it hammer against his ribs. It pounded at a rapid rate, as if he’d spent the last few minutes running a race.

  “How did you find out?” he asked. He’d tried so hard to hide his scars from her.

  “That doesn’t matter. What matters is that now I know. I only wish you would have told me sooner.”

  “I didn’t want you to know. I wanted you to think of me as your mind pictured me. Not as I am.”

  “And how do you think I picture you now?”

  “As a grotesque figure of a man. Someone the members of the ton will turn their backs on. A pariah in Society.”

  “Do you know what I think you are?”

  “You don’t know what I look like. You don’t have any idea.”

  “Then let me see you and I’ll tell you what I think of you.”

  Thomas couldn’t let her touch him. He couldn’t expose himself to her. To lay his imperfections bare would be his ultimate humiliation.

  “Please,” she whispered. “Don’t hide from me.”

  Thomas knew what she wanted. She intended to touch her perfect flesh to his and know how badly he’d been scarred.

  He didn’t think he could allow it. He didn’t think he could stand still while her perfection touched his imperfection. He didn’t think he could endure the torture. He’d lived with the horror of his scarred face for more than a year and hated every day of his disfigurement.

  “Please, Thomas.”

  Cleo’s hand slowly moved up Thomas’s chest and slipped up, up toward his shoulder.

  His heart beat wildly, and every muscle in his body tightened. He tried to open himself to her. Tried to let her see him with her touch instead of her eyes, but voices inside his head screamed no!

  When her fingers reached upward to touch his flesh a clamoring of riotous cries exploded inside him. He clamped his hand over hers to stop her from reaching his face. “No,” he ground out through clenched teeth.

  “Yes, Thomas. Let me see you,” she whispered. “I need to see you the only way I can.”

  Thomas hesitated, unable to release her fingers to allow them to continue upward.

  “Please,” she whispered softer yet.

  Hesitantly, one by one his fingers lifted from her hand until she was able to move.

  When her hand was free, she gently placed her fingers over the gnarled scars on his cheek.

  Thomas sucked in a breath as her hand came into contact with his cheek. He didn’t think it was possible for anyone to be brave enough to touch flesh so blemished. But Cleo didn’t seem repulsed by the damaged flesh and uneven welts.

  She didn’t pull back from the scars that marred his face, but cupped her palm to his cheek and held it there.

  Then, without lifting her hand, she leaned on her tiptoes and pressed her mouth to his.

  Thomas was unprepared for the emotions that surged through him. His hunger for her was unbearable. His desire to make her his own was more powerful than his need to breathe. Than his need to hide his imperfections.

  Thomas lowered his head and deepened his kiss. He wanted to show her how much her acceptance of him meant. He wanted her to know the depth of his feelings for her. He wanted her to know that he loved her.

  He opened his mouth over hers and her sweet sigh answered. His tongue breached her entrance and delved inside to find its mate. A surging of sublime emotions rushed through him. Current after current of passion intensified inside his chest, then swirled like ro
iling rapids to the pit of his stomach. His spine seemed to be bolstered by a strength he hadn’t felt since before the fire.

  He held her close to him and repeated his kisses until their breathing came as one.

  A moan of desperation escaped her and he gathered her closer to support her when her legs seemed to weaken beneath her.

  “Thomas,” she whispered on their mingled breath.

  When he feared she could take no more, he forced himself to lift his mouth from hers and end their soul-bursting connection. He’d never been so affected by a kiss. Never had someone gained such complete control over his emotions.

  “Are you all right?” he asked after several moments.

  In unison, their breaths rushed in trembling gasps. It was the only sound that broke the silence in the shaded glade. When he could force his feet to move beneath him, he led Cleo to the bench they’d vacated moments earlier.

  He placed his arm around her shoulders. She wrapped her arm around his waist and rested her head beneath his chin.

  “It’s useless for you to deny how you feel about me, Thomas,” Cleo whispered when her breathing had calmed. “Please, don’t ask me to try to live without you. I’m not sure I can.”

  “I wish that were so, my love. But we have no choice. The day will come when you have to.”

  “No.”

  “Shh, my love. You know it as well as I do. I am confident that your sight will return. When that happens, you’ll long for the life you left behind. As you should. You were born to enjoy your place in Society. That’s something I can’t give you.”

  “Your scars have nothing to do with the love we have for each other. Nothing.”

  “Perhaps not today,” he answered. “But the day will come when they do. And you’ll hate me for the life I stole from you.”

  “I could never hate you, Thomas. Never. I love you too much.”

  “Perhaps you do now, but that won’t always be the case.”

  She buried herself closer to him and he held her. Then he lowered his head and pressed a kiss to her forehead. He only wished she’d be able to say those same words when her sight returned, and she could see the scars that marred his face.

  She was only able to convince herself that he could offer her everything she needed because they were both flawed. But that wouldn’t always be the case. Cleo’s sight was bound to return. He was sure of it. And because he loved her as much as he did, he could never expect her to give up the life she was born to lead by hiding away in the country like he’d come to believe he would have to do.

  The time would come when he had to give her up. It was best he prepare her for that day. And prepare himself, as well.

  . . .

  If she could just see his eyes, she would know what was wrong. Thomas had changed since she revealed she knew about his scars. He was as attentive as always, of course. At her side as much as he’d been before—his natural sense of chivalry required that. But their closeness was no longer there. The feeling that she could lean against him and he would gather her in his arms was absent.

  He was pulling away from her. And she hurt most grievously. More than she thought it possible to hurt.

  She knew why he was separating himself from her, convinced as he was that her sight would come back. And London would draw her away from him.

  Except, just as he was convinced her sight would return, she was equally as convinced of the opposite. And so they were left at an impasse. And she could find no way to convince him to continue as they had been before and take one day at a time.

  Cleo sat in the receiving room where they’d all gathered. The major was due to arrive any minute. They were pinning their hopes on her uncle to tie up this thorny mess.

  “Do you see anything?” Millie asked her husband. Barnaby and Thomas were stationed by the window looking out onto the front of the house where the carriage would come.

  “Not yet, but I’m sure it won’t be long. A rider came a short while ago and said the carriage was close behind him.”

  Cleo knew that couldn’t be. The major would never bring a carriage. He’d ride his horse. Someone else must be coming.

  “Here they are,” Thomas said after a little while. “I think you’re in for a surprise, Lady Cleora. One distinguished fellow on horseback, and a carriage with the Palmerston insignia.”

  “My parents are here?” Cleo sat forward in her chair.

  “It seems so.”

  It had been nearly two months since she’d last seen her parents and she was struck by how much she’d missed them. Her family had always been close, but the bond that connected her to her parents had grown even stronger after she’d lost her sight.

  Cleo waited until she heard voices from the entryway, then stood at her chair. She couldn’t wait to hear her mother’s voice.

  In moments the door opened and several people entered the room.

  “Cleora,” her mother said as she rushed forward.

  Cleo held out her arms and within seconds she was engulfed in her mother’s protective embrace.

  “Papa?”

  “I’m right here, Cleo.”

  She didn’t have long to wait before her father had her in his arms.

  “Come, sit down. I’m sure you’re ready for a cup of tea after your trip here.”

  “That sounds lovely,” her mother said.

  Cleo nodded, then turned to where she thought Thomas stood. “Thomas, come introduce your family.”

  “Of course.”

  Cleo listened to the ease in Thomas’s voice as he introduced his sister, Millicent, and her husband, Barnaby, and Thomas’s younger sister Pauline, which sounded strange to her ears, knowing the carefree Polly as she did. When he was finished with the introductions, he invited everyone to sit while Millicent poured tea.

  Shortly after, Cleo’s uncle, Major Sam Bennett, joined them.

  “Ah! Our outrider!” called Cleo’s mother. “Come, brother, and have some tea.” The room turned lively as Cleo’s uncle regaled them with tales of his newborn son. Listening to him gave them all the impression that Lady Claire was the most perfect mother who had ever given birth, until Lady Claire’s brother, Barnaby, set them straight. But all marveled at the description of the strapping son she had presented the major with less than a week after they’d returned from Barnaby and Millie’s wedding.

  Cleo’s parents only remained a short while longer, then went to their rooms to settle in before dinner. Barnaby invited his brother-in-law to the study to talk, and Millie and Polly left, leaving Cleo alone with Thomas.

  “Do you wish to go to your room?” he asked.

  “In a while. But first I’d like to talk.”

  Cleo heard him sit in a chair close to her. “What makes you think Welfore will come out of hiding?”

  “It looks like he’s been lurking out there for a couple of weeks now. It stands to reason that he’ll show himself soon one way or another.”

  “Then, perhaps this entire tragedy will be over.”

  “Yes,” Thomas said, but Cleo heard a certain amount of regret in his voice. His final words emphasized it.

  “I’m sure it won’t be long and this will be over. Then you can scoot to London with your parents and forget you ever heard of Radburn Manor.”

  Chapter Nine

  Thomas followed the Major McCormick’s instructions to keep an eye out for any sign of Welfore. The major had assigned every available Radburn footman as well as the guards he’d brought with him to patrol the grounds. He’d also instructed everyone in the house that they weren’t to leave. The only place anyone would be allowed was the garden that extended beyond the terrace where it was protected by a high wall.

  Polly spent a great deal of time reading to Cleo. Millie was often found with them. But as the day wore on, Polly found it more and more impossible to stay indoors. She desperately wanted to go see the puppies that were getting bigger by the day. Finally, as a special treat, one of the stable hands brought three of the puppies ind
oors for her to play with. This turned out to be a major diversion in an otherwise lackluster day.

  The major and Barnaby were also becoming anxious. It had been three days and Welfore had yet to make an appearance. Their fear was that he wouldn’t. Sam and the major had pursued every lead, but Welfore may have gone to ground. Like a fox who knew he had to throw off the scent or the dogs would have him out, he’d disappeared.

  But he’d been here once, lurking around until he could take his shot at the only witness to his crime. He was still close. The ache in Thomas’ shoulder told him he was right.

  “Any sign of movement out there?” Barnaby asked when he and the major entered the study.

  Thomas had an excellent view of a great deal of the surrounding area. He gave it another glance before he answered Barnaby.

  “No. Nothing.”

  The two men walked to the sideboard and each poured themselves a glass of brandy. “Are the ladies in the garden?” Sam asked when he and Barnaby had taken a seat.

  “Polly took the puppies out to romp in the grass on the front lawn for a few minutes. Don’t worry, the men are watching, and Millie went with her. Lady Cleora is in her room. Her head ached and she thought if she reclined for a bit, the ache would go away.”

  Thomas took another look out the window. “What do you think will happen when Welfore comes forward?”

  “It depends on what his motive for killing Randolph was.” Sam took a swallow of his brandy. “Major McCormick doesn’t want to draw attention to what happened. It wouldn’t be in his niece’s best interest for the matter to be resurrected again.”

  Thomas considered what the major said. He knew Major McCormick was as fond of Cleo as an uncle can be. “Even if Welfore killed Randolph in self-defense, that doesn’t excuse the fact that he tried to kill Lady Cleora.”

  “No, it doesn’t,” Sam answered. “Especially since the bullet struck you instead. You have every right to turn him over to the authorities.”

  Thomas turned back to the window. He wasn’t a vengeful person, but he didn’t want Welfore to continue to be a threat to Cleo. Nothing would be more terrifying than to know Cleo was constantly in danger.