To Romance a Charming Rogue tcw-4

by Nicole Jordan

  “That is why your nightmares are so tormenting, isn't it? You relive his suffering and are helpless to save him.”

  “Yes.”

  Her brows drew together in compassion. “Mr. Geary said he tended Joshua's sickbed. Was there nothing that could be done to relieve his suffering?”

  “The best we could do was to drug him with laudanum so he could find oblivion from the pain for a few hours at a time.”

  Eleanor fell quiet for a moment before she reached over and slipped her hand into Damon's. “You and Joshua must have had good times together before he fell ill.”

  Damon nodded, remembering. “Our boyhood was everything a boyhood should be.”

  “Would it help if you tried to think of the happy times instead of his last days?”

  “Perhaps.”

  “What if you had something to remind you? Do you have a portrait of Joshua when he was still healthy?”

  He shrugged. “There is one of the both of us when we were fourteen, hanging in the gallery at Oak Hill.”

  “Your family seat in Suffolk? I would like very much to see it.”

  Damon felt himself stiffen. “That would entail visiting. I haven't spent much time there except for duty calls. I have an excellent factor who manages the estate so I am not obliged to.”

  “Let me guess. You have avoided your home all these years because Joshua died there.”

  There was no need for him to reply since she had hit on the truth.

  “Perhaps,” Eleanor suggested, “you should spend some time there. It would give you a chance to summon back the good memories.”

  He didn't respond, although he knew she had a point.

  “Was Joshua much like you?” Eleanor asked. “Did you look exactly alike?”

  “We were spitting images.”

  “Was he a vexing rogue like you?”

  Damon gave a soft huff of laughter. “He could be. Joshua was far from a saint. The pranks he used to play on me were devilishly wicked.”

  “And I'll wager you played similar pranks on him. You must have been a double terror to your parents.”

  His mouth curved faintly. Then his smile slipped as sadness washed over him. “He was so full of life, so vital.”

  “Just like you,” Eleanor murmured. Startling Damon, she turned to him and flung her arms around his neck, pulling him into a tight, fierce hug.

  She held him that way for a long while, and Damon allowed it, pressing his face into her hair. The pain started to ease a small measure as he accepted-no, welcomed-the solace Elle offered him.

  Yet it soon became clear that she was not only set on comforting him but on exhorting him.

  “You must forgive yourself, Damon,” she murmured in his ear. “You have to let go if you are ever to begin healing. Isn't that what Joshua would have wished for you? Do you honestly think he would have wanted you to punish yourself all these years?”

  He knew the answer to that question, Damon realized as a forgotten memory pushed its way into his mind: that final day of his brother's life, when he'd bent down to hear Joshua's last words to him.

  “Live… for… me,” he rasped through his cracked lips.

  Damon swallowed against the constriction in his throat. He had buried that painful memory along with all his other emotions.

  “No,” Damon responded in a raw voice. “My brother would not want me to keep punishing myself. He would have wanted me to live life to the fullest.”

  “Of course he would,” Eleanor said with conviction. “Still, you are the only one who can grant yourself absolution, Damon. Until then you will continue denying yourself any chance for real happiness, and me as well. That is why I want to throttle you,” she whispered fiercely even as she clung to him.

  Grasping her arms in a gentle grip, Damon extricated himself from her embrace and held her away. “My throat is entirely at your disposal, Elle, but I would rather you delay your craving for violence for a moment. I have something to say to you. A confession, if you will.”

  When she eyed him warily, Damon held her gaze steadily in return. “You asked me why I kept my recent meeting with Lydia a secret from you. It's because I didn't want to drive you away again, as I foolishly did two years ago.”

  “Foolishly?” Eleanor said slowly. “You think inciting me to end our betrothal was foolish?”

  Damon responded with a wry twist of his lips. “Foolish, imbecilic, idiotic, dimwitted-and yes, craven. And I regret it more than I can ever say.”

  She drew a shaky breath. “I was so afraid you intended to return to Lydia, Damon.”

  “I am sorry, sweetheart.” Seeing the bruises in the depths of her eyes, the vulnerability, Damon damned himself for causing Eleanor pain. He'd cherished her, but he'd deliberately hurt her, both then and now. He would make it up to her, he swore silently.

  As she stared at him, he clasped her hand more tightly, entwining their fingers. “You had me dead to rights, Elle. I never wanted to care that much for anyone again, to allow myself to hurt that way. So when I realized how close I was growing to you during our betrothal, I reacted out of fear. These past two weeks, however, I've experienced a revelation. Not having you in my life is far more painful than the risk of losing you.”

  It was Eleanor's turn to swallow. “Damon, it isn't possible to have a future with no pain, no regrets, no unhappiness.”

  “I know, but with you, my odds of happiness are infinitely greater. You are my happiness. I love you, Elle.”

  Biting her lower lip, she searched his face as if not daring to believe. “You love me? Are you certain?”

  Damon reached up to stroke her cheek. “Utterly absolutely certain. I fought against it, God knows. The entire time I was in Italy, I tried to dismiss you from my mind. I wanted to forget all about you, but it was hopeless. And when I returned to find you being courted by that Lothario… I couldn't let you wed him and walk out of my life forever. I couldn't lose you again when you were the only woman I could ever hope to love.”

  Tears sprang to her eyes. “I think I must be dreaming. You truly love me?”

  He smiled. “I never had any other choice, Elle. You made me feel again, whether I wanted to or not… joy, hope, passion, love.”

  The knowledge burned inside him with searing power. After the many numb years, he had opened his heart again. Because of Eleanor he felt whole again.

  “You fill the emptiness in my heart,” he said softly. “I know that now. Without you, Elle, I was simply existing. I don't want to live like that, merely surviving day to day.”

  “Oh, Damon…” she breathed.

  He cupped her cheek. “I am sorry it took me so long to recognize my feelings for you. I'm sorry to have let you think I betrayed you. I lost something precious when I lost your trust, but I hope to earn it back someday.”

  Her lower lip quivered. “I feared you wanted Lydia for your mistress again,” she repeated.

  “I don't want Lydia, Elle-not in the slightest. She doesn't make my heart pound as you do. She doesn't make me look forward to each new day. She doesn't provoke and challenge me and kindle a jealous rage in me when she merely looks at another man. She doesn't intrigue me or constantly make me guess what unconventional thing she will say or do next. She doesn't own my heart the way you do, my lovely Eleanor.”

  The sheer relief in her beautiful face humbled him.

  “You are every man's dream,” Damon murmured. “You are my dream. You have been since the moment you shoved me in this fountain. How could I not want you?”

  She smiled, truly smiled, the kind of smile that made his heart turn over. And some of her lively spirit reappeared in her tone when she quizzed him. “Did you honestly think I would allow you to return to Lydia without a fight, Damon? I am warning you, you will keep a mistress over my dead body-and yours, too.”

  “You needn't worry on that score. I will never look at another woman again. I am too afraid of losing you.”

  Eleanor gazed back at him solemnly. “You wi
ll never lose me, Damon. I love you too much. I have since the moment I met you. Even my aunt noticed. Do you know what she just told me? That I glow when I am with you.”

  It was true that she was glowing, Damon thought, gazing at her beautiful face. What he saw there tightened his chest with emotion.

  When he started to speak, however, Eleanor pressed a hand against his lips. “But, Damon… if we are to have a true marriage, you cannot keep secrets from me and hide your feelings. You have to trust me and tell me what is troubling you.”

  “I will.”

  “I will always be there with you when you have nightmares.”

  “I am glad.”

  Her expression turned somber. “No one can ever replace your brother in your heart, but I would love to be your dearest friend as well as your wife.”

  “You already are, Elle.”

  “Good.”

  “Then you will forgive me?” Damon asked quietly.

  Another moment passed before her mouth took on a teasing tilt. “I first have to decide if you have groveled properly enough.”

  His own mouth curved. “You won't make this easy, will you?”

  “Certainly not. I have endured two years of pent-up fury and frustration. You have a great deal to atone for, my lord husband.”

  “Amazingly enough, I am looking forward to the prospect. I will even throw myself into the water behind us if it will help get me back into your good graces.”

  The laughter that tumbled from her lips made him crave to kiss her. He wanted to hear that sparkling laugh every day of his life. He ached to see Eleanor smile, to touch her, to hold her in his arms. To wake with her beside him. To love her for the rest of their days. She was warmth and laughter, and she was his. Damon could scarcely believe his good fortune.

  His features gentling with tenderness, he rose and held out his hand to her. “Come with me, Elle.”

  She didn't hesitate to oblige, yet she was curious what he intended.

  “Where are we going?” she asked as he led her along the graveled path toward the south end of Rosemont's beautifully landscaped gardens.

  “I want to show you my wedding gift to you.”

  “What is it?”

  “You will have to wait and see, love.”

  Eleanor fell silent when Damon refused to reveal anything more. After a while, she realized they were nearing her own special rose garden, the one her brother had created for her when she was ten in order to ease her loneliness. Marcus had given her a rosebush each year afterward on her birthday, as a remembrance of his love.

  She wondered why Damon had chosen to bring her here… until they reached her special place. There, adjacent to her own garden, was a patch of newly tilled ground adorned with a similar spiral path. At the very heart of the new spiral, a single rosebush, lush with rich red blooms, had been planted.

  Eleanor came to halt, a little stunned. “You are giving me a rosebush as a wedding gift?” she asked Damon.

  “Yes. This one is to mark the start of our years together. I thought we would plant another on each anniversary, to mark the passage of time.”

  Eleanor's eyes filled with tears. Damon had remembered how precious her garden was to her, and he had duplicated it for her. The knowledge melted her heart.

  “You do love me,” she said, turning to gaze up at him reverently.

  “Certainly, I do. I told you so, Elle.”

  She bent to pluck one perfect rose and brought it to her lips, breathing in its delicious scent. “This is worth more to me than rubies and diamonds, Damon.”

  He reached up to wipe away a tear with a gentle forefinger. “I will be giving you rubies and diamonds, as well, love. The Wrexham jewels are safely stored in a bank vault in London. But meanwhile, I wanted you to know that I consider our union much more than a mere marriage of convenience.”

  “Thank you, Damon,” she whispered, smiling with joy.

  He took the rose from her and tucked it behind her ear. “I'll make you another vow, Elle. There will never be a day you won't know how much I love you.”

  “I mean to hold you to that vow,” Eleanor said softly.

  She had longed for love, for a cherished husband to grow old with, for children. And she knew Damon would fulfill her yearning. She saw a thousand sensual promises in his dark eyes as he gazed back at her.

  Turning to gaze down at her new rose garden, she gave a dreamy sigh and rested her head against Damon's shoulder. “Aunt Beatrix will be relieved that we have made up,” Eleanor murmured. “She thinks you are the key to my happiness. I only regret that her own hopes for happiness have been crushed. She was greatly hurt to learn that Signor Vecchi was behind the threats against Prince Lazzara. But I suppose it is better for her to learn his true nature now, before her affections became even more deeply engaged.”

  “No doubt. I was surprised that Vecchi would go to such lengths to keep you from wedding Lazzara, but I have no regrets that he succeeded.”

  “You were clever to have divined the signor as the perpetrator.”

  “I had help-from the Runners and from Havi-land. There is a great deal more to Haviland than meets the eye.”

  Eleanor laughed to herself. “I would imagine so. A woman can sense these things, you know.”

  “Is that so?” Placing his finger under her chin, Damon made her look at him. “You don't have a partiality for Haviland, do you?”

  “No, of course not.”

  “Good. I don't ever want to see you flirting with him again, wife.”

  “You won't. I only did so to make you jealous.”

  “It worked-although I was far more jealous of Lazzara. I am glad to be rid of him, I must say.”

  “In truth, so am I. He offered to make me his mistress a short while ago.”

  “Did he now.” Damon's eyes glittered dangerously, gratifying Eleanor with his possessiveness. “He's fortunate then to have left the premises before I learned of it.”

  “He thought that since you were consorting with your mistress, I would be at liberty to take lovers outside our marriage.”

  “You will never be free, love. I am your husband for now and always.”

  Eleanor smiled with happiness. “Fanny will be pleased to know her advice succeeded.”

  “Fanny?”

  Realizing her slip, Eleanor hesitated, debating how much she could honorably reveal about Fanny. But she wanted Damon to know about their friendship since she had every intention of continuing it. Besides, Damon could be trusted to keep Fanny's identity a secret.

  “Fanny Irwin wrote the book on capturing a husband, in addition to offering me private counsel on how to win your heart.”

  Damon's eyebrows shot up. “A notorious Cyprian is the anonymous lady author?”

  “Yes. She obviously could not publish it under her own name, but who better to advise women on how to deal with men than a noted expert? She also penned the manuscript I have been reading. Fanny is attempting to turn over a new leaf by entering a less disreputable profession. There is a certain gentleman she hopes to marry, so she is aspiring to earn her living as a novelist.” Eleanor sighed again, this time with fondness. “I am exceedingly grateful to Fanny. She helped me capture the husband of my dreams.”

  “I am not so grateful to her,” Damon remarked. “Because of her book, you nearly landed Lazzara.”

  Eleanor shook her head. “I don't believe there was ever any real danger of that. I could never have loved Prince Lazzara because I had already given my heart to you.” Raising Damon's hand, she held it against her cheek. “I love you, Damon. I love you so much that it frightens me.”

  “Then we are well matched.”

  Staring back into his eyes, she saw her own love reflected there-and heard it in Damon's tone when he added in a low voice, “I know Joshua would be happy for us.”

  She smiled mistily, acknowledging his concession. “I hope with all my heart that he would be.” She paused. “Marcus will certainly be happy for us.”

&
nbsp; “I trust so,” Damon said, his tone turning dry. “Perhaps now he won't cut out my liver as he threatened.”

  “Marcus threatened you?”

  “Yes, but his protectiveness of you is one of his most sterling qualities.”

  Suddenly Eleanor found herself being drawn into Damon's arms. “Enough talking, wife. We should be kissing instead. I expect you to show me your love with deeds, not words.”

  “You realize that we could be seen by the gardeners?” she asked, amused.

  His smile pierced her heart. “Do you want to stop?”

  “Certainly not.”

  His eyes, bright with laughter, gazed into hers. Then his lips came down to meet hers with a poignant passion.

  His kiss was tender, ardent, yet it felt different somehow. This kiss was richer, deeper, sweeter because they loved.

  It was a good beginning, Eleanor thought as she wrapped her arms tightly around Damon and surrendered fully to his embrace. Together they would vanquish the fears and doubts and pain and instead forge a bond built on trust and love and devotion that would last the rest of their lives.

  If you find true love with your gentleman, count yourself blessed. Shared love is the rarest of treasures. -An Anonymous Lady, Advice…

  Damon woke slowly, the remnants of a dream teasing his consciousness. Early morning sunlight streamed into the bedchamber he shared with Elle, warming him just as his dream had done.

  The dream had centered around a fond memory from his childhood when his twin brother was still alive: he and Joshua watching a foal being born, experiencing the awe of a new life coming into the world, laughing together as the spindly legged colt struggled to stand and root for its mother's nourishing milk.

  Eleanor had been right, Damon reflected drowsily. Coming home to Oak Hill had finally allowed him to lay his grief to rest. After a fortnight here, the pain had lessened to a faint, bittersweet ache, and so had his regrets, while his nightmares had disappeared entirely.

  And yet Eleanor was the chief reason he felt a sense of peace. She had wrapped him in her caring embrace, giving him solace with her love.