by Olivia Drake
Glancing away, he ran his fingers through his hair. He couldn’t forget the sight of her leaning over the wall. Fear for her safety had triggered that terrible memory. But how could he tell her that? He didn’t want to reveal the madness that had gripped him, or the panic that had wiped out all rational thought.
Because then Ellie would demand to know the source of it.
The last thing he needed was for her to learn about that long-ago tragedy. Nothing could be more guaranteed to make her view him with revulsion. A revulsion far worse than what she felt over a lusty kiss.
“You shouldn’t be out here,” he said gruffly.
“You shouldn’t be kissing me. Especially not like that.”
Never one to cower, Ellie stared straight at him. He had the uncanny feeling that those keen brown eyes could peer straight into his black soul. To ward off any probing, he said aggressively, “Why were you looking over that wall? You could have fallen to your death. Come back inside at once.”
Sliding his arm around her waist, he guided her down the narrow wall-walk. Surprisingly, she didn’t shun his assistance. Nor did she harangue him with recriminations. “I wasn’t in any danger,” she said rather mildly. “I was only hoping to see if I could spot the coastline.”
“You’re in the wrong place. This wall is on the seaward side of the castle.”
“I’m aware of that. And I was gazing westward. Why else would I have needed to lean so far forward?”
Her green-cloaked form once again became a falling angel with outspread wings. Damien’s arm tightened reflexively around her waist. He drew in a lungful of cold air to banish the queasiness in his gut.
Then he realized that Ellie was watching him closely. There was an intent look on her face as if she was puzzling over his odd behavior.
Better to distract her before she started asking questions.
Reaching the door, he thrust it open and ushered her into the tower. “You were supposed to stay in bed,” he snapped. “It’s dangerous to walk outside, especially on an injured ankle. You could have slipped on the ice again.”
“Actually, my ankle is quite improved today.” She pulled herself free and took a few tentative steps across the landing. “See? I’m not limping so very much anymore.”
Damien flicked a moody glance at her foot, though he could glimpse only the toe of her shoe peeking out beneath the hem. He felt frustrated by Ellie’s cavalier disregard for her own safety on the parapet. She didn’t seem to realize her error, and he feared that she’d blithely do it again when he wasn’t watching. There was no lock, so short of nailing the door shut, he wouldn’t be able to stop her.
Spying the staff propped against the wall, he thrust it at her. “I want you to lean on this when you walk. And I’ll have your promise that you won’t take any more foolish risks.”
Ellie raised an eyebrow as she glanced at the stick, and then back at him. “If you insist.”
“I do insist. You’re my responsibility and, by God, I won’t have you hurting yourself.”
“Do stop shouting, Damien. If it really disturbs you so much, I won’t go out again.”
Turning away, she used the makeshift cane to hobble through the doorway and into her chamber. There, she proceeded to the foot of the bed and seated herself on a large chest. Laying the long stick across her lap, she lightly ran her fingertips over the polished ash wood.
Unsure of his welcome, Damien remained in the doorway with his hands planted on his hips. She didn’t seem particularly angry at him and he couldn’t fathom why. That in itself made him uneasy. She ought to be outraged over that kiss. He’d behaved like a lust-crazed beast. The aftereffects still burned in him like a banked fire.
And what about his criticism of her storybook the previous day? That alone ought to have earned the cold shoulder from her.
She glanced up at him. “Where did you find this?”
“What?” Then he realized she was still cradling the stick in her lap. “Oh. It’s just a broken pikestaff from the weaponry room.”
“It should be old and weathered, then. This one is beautiful. Did you polish it for me?”
Her praise made him relax a bit. “It’s nothing,” he said with a shrug. “I had little else to do this morning.”
“Well, I appreciate it nonetheless.”
Planting the stick, Ellie used it to lever herself to her feet. Then she unfastened the clasp at her throat and let the cloak fall onto the chest. Underneath, she wore a jade-green gown that enhanced the rich coppery highlights in her hair.
As she glided across the room to the dressing table, he watched her obsessively. The gown was a perfect fit, from the nipped curve of her waist to the generous globes of her bosom. Though he only had a side view, the silken softness of those breasts was burned into his memory. Ellie had responded beautifully when he’d caressed her. Her nipple had contracted to his touch, and he’d felt her tremble with desire …
She swung toward him, her skirts rustling. Their gazes met, and she frowned slightly as if guessing the direction of his thoughts. Judging by the flash of coolness in her eyes, he had not endeared himself to her. Then she draped a shawl around her shoulders, tying it over her bosom in the manner of a prim governess. She might as well have issued a verbal reprimand.
She sat down on a chair by the hearth, placing the cane within reach. Primping her skirts, she said politely, “You needn’t stand out in the cold, Damien. Pray step inside and close the door.”
He hesitated. Why did he sense he was being maneuvered by her? He ought to be thrilled to be alone with Ellie, to finally hear her speak his name. And in spite of his churlish behavior, she couldn’t be seething with fury if she was willing to converse with him.
Maybe that lusty kiss hadn’t been so ill-advised, after all. Maybe it had served to break down the barriers between them. Maybe now she’d be more amenable to his companionship. More than anything, he felt a compulsion to regain the camaraderie he’d felt with her the previous day.
He closed the door, shrugged out of his greatcoat, and slung it over the foot of the bed. Then he sauntered forward to stand by the stone fireplace. He leaned his elbow on the mantel in a pose more casual than he actually felt.
Ellie looked up at him. “Will you sit, please? We need to talk, and I don’t care to have a crick in my neck.”
Talk? If she meant to deliver a blistering lecture on proper behavior, he would gladly swallow his medicine and be done with it.
Obligingly, he took the opposite seat and gazed at her. His chest tightened in a soppy, unfamiliar manner. How lovely she was with those tendrils of hair framing the oval of her face. The dusting of freckles across the bridge of her nose enhanced the creamy hue of her skin, as did the rosiness of her lips.
How had he ever thought her plain?
He leaned forward with his hands clasped together. “Ellie, I must apologize for my behavior outside. I never meant to dishonor you. What I did was boorish and inexcusable, and I humbly beg your forgiveness.”
She cocked her head to one side. “There can be no doubt that you did comport yourself as a scoundrel. However, I’ve a feeling that you didn’t quite mean to do so.”
Uneasiness churned in him. The intent look was on her face again, full of questions. Maybe he could use charm as a diversion. All women were susceptible to eloquent accolades.
He cocked his mouth in a contrite smile. “You’re right, I didn’t go out there on the parapet with the intention of kissing you. But when I saw you standing there, I was captivated by your beauty. Perhaps it’s difficult for an innocent lady to understand how a man’s baser emotions can overrule his better judgment—”
“You’re trying to deceive me,” she said gently. “I heard the panic in your voice when you called out to me. I saw how you came running. Then you seized hold of me and said, ‘Thank God, you’re alive. Thank God, you’re safe.’ Why would you speak in such a manner if you were merely overcome by lust?”
Damien shifted in his
chair. Now was the time to invent an excuse to flee the room, if only that wouldn’t brand him the most craven of cowards. “As I said before, I thought you were about to fall and I feared for your safety…”
He lapsed into stunned silence when Ellie arose from her chair and came to kneel in front of him in a pool of jade-green skirts. She placed her hands on either arm of the chair, and those fine topaz eyes pinned him in place.
“No more prevaricating, Damien. You owe me the truth about what happened outside.”
Chapter 15
Ellie had to restrain herself from reaching out and shaking him. Stubborn man! He was scowling in that domineering way of his, with his jaw clenched and his lips thinned. It was obvious that Damien thought he could fob her off with a lame explanation. He was entitled to his secrets, of course. But not when he’d dragged her into this one by his own extraordinary actions.
And not when he’d given her the most incredible kiss of her life.
Her insides still quivered from the impact of it. Never had she dreamed that a kiss could be so earth-shattering. Years ago, a would-be suitor had trapped her in a dark corner and pressed a dry, furtive peck to her lips. She had sent him packing with a blistering reprimand. The incident had fortified her belief that romance was for other women, and that she far preferred to devote herself to the make-believe world of Princess Arianna.
Now Ellie wondered if her decision had been premature. Nothing in her limited experience could have prepared her for Damien’s mouth on hers. Or for the shockingly invasive way in which he had reached into her bodice. His caress on her bare skin had ignited a melting pleasure that had consumed her whole body. If that was lust, she would have to devote some thought as to whether or not she really could live without it.
But not now.
Now, she felt a pressing need to understand him. Gazing at his closed features, she remembered his petrified expression as he’d dashed toward her on the parapet. She had been in no danger, yet he had reacted with abject horror. Then his arms had crushed her close, and his voice had been fraught with raw emotion. Thank God, you’re alive. Thank God, you’re safe.
It was unsettling to wonder whether he’d been speaking to her—or to someone from his past. What experience of his had sparked such an unnatural fear in him? Maybe he would never tell her. Maybe it was too private, too personal, and she was wrong to probe for answers.
As the fire hissed into the silence, Ellie began to regret the impulse that had made her kneel in front of him. Her attempt at entreaty clearly meant nothing to him.
“Well,” she said lightly, sitting on her heels and gazing up at him, “I don’t suppose I can force you to speak, Damien. We’re hardly friends, after all, and I’ve no real claim on your confidences.”
A peculiar regret lurked in the depths of her heart. But she reminded herself that he was the Demon Prince, the villainous rat who had abducted her. As remarkable as his kiss had been, it mustn’t be allowed to overshadow her plans for the future. For the past day, she had been pondering what to do when they departed the castle. Before Damien had come out onto the parapet, she’d been gazing at the stormy sea and considering how best to maneuver him into supporting the scheme that she had decided upon.
That was far more essential than exposing his secrets.
As she started to rise, Damien caught her by the shoulders. “Don’t go, Ellie, please,” he said gruffly. “I’ll tell you what happened. You do deserve to know.”
Ellie sank back, her full attention on his taut features. A thread of rough emotion in his voice belied his harsh, implacable expression. Very softly, she said, “I’m listening.”
He glanced away for a moment before fixing her with those cool green-gray eyes. “You heard about the scandal with the young lady seven years ago. I can assure you, the gossip was true. I was caught in a bedchamber with Miss Veronica Higgins. The fault was not hers. It was entirely mine.”
His gaze turned hazy as if he were peering into the past. “She was a delicate, blue-eyed blonde, shy and modest to a fault. From the moment I spied Veronica at a house party, I was determined to win her heart. She, of course, would have nothing to do with a notorious rake. So I laid wagers with a few cronies that I could make her fall in love with me.”
His mouth formed an ironic twist. “However, I was foolish enough to take matters beyond a mere flirtation. When we were found together, it wasn’t just me who was barred from society. Veronica, too, suffered the consequences. Not only did she lose her position as a companion to her aunt, she was shunned by her family. She had no recourse but to accept my offer of marriage.”
A knell of shock struck Ellie. “You’re married?”
He gave a sharp shake of his head. “Not any longer. I’m afraid it was not a happy union for either of us. I leased a house in the country as a means to escape the scandal. Even so, Veronica refused to show herself in public. She was weepy and disconsolate and … I cannot claim to have been a very considerate husband. To escape the endless melancholy, I began to stay away from home for much of the time.”
Damien paused to draw a deep breath, shifting his moody gaze back to the fire. “Late one night, I returned from an evening spent drinking in a local tavern with friends. I was leaving the stables, walking toward the house, when I glanced up and saw her. She was wearing a white nightdress. And she was standing on the edge of the roof.”
Ellie’s throat tightened. Her skin prickled with apprehension. She suddenly dreaded to hear what he had to say. “No.”
His voice flat and emotionless, he went on, “I realized later that it couldn’t have been a coincidence that I was there to witness her actions. Veronica must have been waiting for me to come home. Perhaps she climbed out onto the roof when she heard my horse coming up the drive. All I know is that when I shouted her name, she stepped off the roof. I ran to catch her … But I was too late.”
Aghast, Ellie reached out and covered his hands with hers. The look on his face was so bleak that she knew no words to offer as comfort. So she merely stroked his fingers, wishing there were some way to erase the grisly memory from his mind. His wife had taken her own life, and Damien clearly blamed himself. Ellie couldn’t fathom the grief and guilt he must have borne all these years.
No wonder he’d reacted so strongly to seeing her lean over the parapet. He must have been transported back to the moment of seeing his wife perched on the edge of the roof. He had relived that horror through Ellie, only this time, he had reached her in time. He had pulled her close and uttered fervently, Thank God, you’re alive. Thank God, you’re safe.
Had he been thinking of his wife when he’d kissed Ellie? Had she been merely a substitute?
Ellie pushed the questions away. How selfish to dwell on her own needs at such a time. “I’m so sorry, Damien. I never knew—”
“No one knew. I concealed her suicide.”
In an abrupt withdrawal, he surged up from the chair and paced across the circular chamber. He stood there with his back turned to Ellie. He combed his fingers through his hair, ruffling the black strands. He looked so tormented that her heart turned over in her breast. She ached to go to him, yet sensed he would reject any acknowledgment of his anguish. After giving him a moment to collect himself, she murmured, “How did you conceal it?”
He turned slowly. Once again, his features showed only a detached remoteness. “Finn had heard me shout her name. He came running. But Veronica had died instantly. There was nothing to be done for her. Finn said people would whisper that I’d killed her, pushed her off the roof myself. I’d be wrongfully imprisoned for murder. In my distraught state of mind, I agreed to let him arrange matters so that it would appear as though she’d been trampled by a horse.”
His voice grew heavier. “I convinced myself that I was doing it to protect her character. There were still a few whispers that I’d murdered her, but I suppose that was only to be expected given the circumstances of our forced marriage. However, most people treated me with all the respect
due a grieving widower. And as the weeks passed, I began to realize that I was the one being protected. I was never held accountable for causing the despair that made Veronica take her own life.”
Ellie could see his point. From start to finish, his marriage had been a terrible disaster. It would never have happened if not for his disgraceful behavior. But he already knew that, so who was she to berate him more than he’d already done to himself?
And she couldn’t help but wonder why Veronica had felt such extreme despondency. Even if she’d been as delicate and shy as Damien had described her, and had had difficulty adjusting to the forced marriage, that was no reason to give up all hope. Why had she not found a useful occupation to lend purpose to her life? Perhaps she could have done needlework for the poor or prepared baskets for the sick. In such a circumstance, Ellie herself would have taken solace in her drawing. And she would have made Damien behave himself.
Her ankle ached from the uncustomary position on the floor. As she prepared to rise by bracing her hand on the chair, Damien was there in an instant to help her to her feet. “Lean on me,” he ordered. “I shouldn’t have allowed you to kneel so long. You ought to be in bed with your foot up.”
As he slid his arm around her waist and guided her across the room, Ellie glanced up at his sober features. No matter how much he painted himself the villain, she couldn’t imagine him being purposely cruel to his wife. “I agree with Finn,” she said. “I cannot see what good would have been accomplished by revealing the truth.”
Damien scowled as they stopped beside the bed. “You don’t understand. I should have been there that night. If only I’d stayed at home, perhaps—”
Ellie placed her finger over his lips. “Perhaps you’ve punished yourself enough, Damien. You can’t change what happened. None of us can. We can only try to learn from our mistakes.”
He gave her a grim look as he settled her on the bed. “But I haven’t learned. I ruined Veronica’s life, and now I’ve ruined yours.”
