Temptation & Twilight

by Charlotte Featherstone

  His fingers touched her hand, and she gasped in fear.

  She had not heard him leave the bed, had no idea he stood so close to her, looking down upon her. He stroked her hair back, his head lowering until she could feel the brush of his breath, and she jumped away, aware that the post of her bed would be right there, and she could grab it, wrap herself around it.

  “You’re terrified,” he murmured, and the floorboard creaked beneath his weight, giving away his approach.

  “Don’t touch me,” she said, her voice trembling.

  “I hurt you, did I?” he asked, and his voice was filled with an emotion she had never once heard from him—that of regret. She didn’t know whether she should be grateful he felt something or sickened by the pity in his tone.

  “Won’t you talk to me? Tell me how to ease your pain.” He had remained silent through the whole thing. Why should she oblige him by talking?

  “You have a wild-eyed look, my Beth. What do you see?”

  “Don’t look at me,” she cried, now utterly unhinged.

  “Don’t look into my eyes when you can see everything in them, and I am not able to look into yours and see anything!”

  The door burst open, and she could hear Maggie’s laboured breathing. “What the devil are you doing here?”

  “See him out, Maggie,” Lizzy ordered as she clutched the post of the bed, resting her face against the cool, smooth wood. She had no idea if she had properly covered her naked body or not with her robe, but she felt Maggie’s eyes boring into her as if she were completely nude.

  “My lord?” Maggie snarled. “On your way.”

  “I’ll go when I’m good and ready,” he retorted. Lizzy sensed him reaching for her, and she moved back, her hand gliding along the footboard, guiding her to the dressing table she knew would be mere feet away.

  “I suggest you go now, your lordship, before I have the night watchman and the police alerted,” Maggie declared. “You wouldn’t want them to discover this scene, now would you? A terrified blind girl with the likes of you bearing down upon her?”

  Lizzy heard the vicious oath, the way his clothes were snapped up from the floor and his legs jammed into his trousers, his arms thrust through his shirtsleeves. “I shall call on you in the morning to discuss matters.” The door slammed, and Lizzy sank to the floor in defeat, in absolute confusion as to what was happening to her—and despair, she realized, when Iain had so easily capitulated, leaving her alone. She nearly laughed at the dichotomy of her thoughts. She was mad. A raving lunatic.

  Maggie padded softly across the floor to where she had wilted like a delicate flower, and suddenly, the fear and inferiority gave way to a fierce sense of rage that would not be contained. Elizabeth had never given in to that anger, and now, after twelve years of bottling it, it threatened to erupt. To send her into a mental place where her demons held court, waiting to taunt her.

  “No!” she yelled, jumping up before her friend could reach her. “No! I will not wallow like this! I will not let you ruin me,” she shouted, “not like before!” Turning, she found her way to the dressing table and with one sweep of her arm knocked the entire contents, brushes, combs and jewelry, onto the floor.

  “Damn you, Iain Sinclair,” she yelled, shaking with a ferocious anger. Maggie reached for her, but she thrust herself out of the way, bouncing off the wall as she did so.

  “I will not let you do this to me!” she cried. “I will not!” IAIN HEARD HIS NAME, followed by a stream of epithets.

  Elizabeth was in a rage the likes of which he had never seen, and never fathomed she possessed. The curse on his head was followed by a crash, and the sound of something being thrown against the wall.

  Closing his eyes, he pictured the image of Elizabeth cowering at the foot of the bed, clinging to it as if it were the mast on a sinking ship. He had hurt her. He’d tried to be gentle, but in the end, he had hurt her. And it sickened him. He should go, never to grace her door again.

  But that thought sickened him even more.

  “No, miss! No, you’ll hurt yerself!” There was no thinking now. He turned, jogged back to Elizabeth’s door and quietly opened it. Beth was in a fury, that was patently clear. Her breathing was ragged as she tore the covers from the bed, followed by the bed curtains. Maggie clasped Elizabeth’s hands with her own strong ones, trying to calm her, but there was no pacify-ing her. She was possessed by some unseen demon. A demon he feared was the past.

  “Let me go!” she cried, twisting from her companion’s hold. Maggie saw him then, opened her mouth, but he shook his head, warning her to not give away his presence.

  “Goddamn you, Sinclair,” Elizabeth roared again. “I hate you! I hate you for making me feel worthless and disposable, when I am worth a hundred of your doxies!” All this for him—because of him. Shocked, horrified, he slid down the wall, watching her fall apart, and not fully understanding the why of it. With his hand, he motioned for Maggie to leave, but she merely looked from him to Lizzy, worried for the young woman who was wandering about the room talking to herself, rant-ing like a bedlamite.

  Maggie must have known that Iain would protect her charge with his life, for they shared a meaningful glance before she quietly left the room.

  “Oh, yes,” Elizabeth railed after her companion.

  “Leave me, then! I am so easy to forget, am I not? He has no problem doing it. He seduced me and walked away!

  Tonight he could not even be bothered to speak to me—not during the act, nor after! I was nothing but a whore to him, merely a vessel for his pleasure, not a person.” Resting his head against the wall, he watched her, humiliated that he was the cause of such deep despair.

  “How dare he lay there beneath me,” she said, some of the bluster leaving her. “How dare he move silently inside me, in a dark room where I cannot see, where my only sense is to hear. How dare he deprive me of that, the only thing I have.”

  He hadn’t known. Hadn’t thought of it. He’d wanted to be kind and tender, to give her the sort of pleasure with which a gentleman gifts a lady. Had he spoken, he might have said the wrong thing, something crass and base, something no angel should hear. He hadn’t wanted to ruin the beauty of their lovemaking with words he had used with other women.

  “Damn you,” she said again, then collapsed onto the floor and leaned against the wall, with a pile of blankets heaped in her lap. She sat directly across the room from him, her unseeing eyes staring right at him. He was forced to look into those eyes and admit that he had been the cause of this outburst—this destruction wrought from pain.

  “I hate you for what you made of me twelve years ago, and I hate you for what you made me feel tonight—worthless and weak, comparing myself to one of your past liaisons and finding myself inferior. I could not tell what you thought of me—what you saw when you looked at me after—when you would not even speak to me. You did the same that last time, and then you left, telling me for certain your true feelings. Tonight I made you leave, so I would not have to endure it again. But it came anyway, those feelings, all those years of pent-up fear. Well, it was released, Sinclair. How did you like it?” He wanted to speak, but knew that if he gave away his presence here in her chamber, she would be humiliated to know he had witnessed her uncharacteristic loss of composure.

  “You soulless bastard, you take a piece of me every time,” she whispered, and the tears fell until she was trembling. “You have no idea what it is to not be able to see, to not know for certain what someone is thinking or feeling. You can’t imagine what it is like to lie there and imagine it all, to have to trust your instincts. I have no trustworthy instincts when it comes to you. You leave me feeling hopeless and helpless. Adrift in the ocean at night, with no moon. I can’t see anything. And I want so much to know what you feel, so that I might be at ease, knowing that you’re not laughing at me—mocking me.” Rolling to her side, she cuddled up in the blanket and hid her face in its soft depths. “I am nineteen all over again. Only you do this to me. Nev
er again, Iain. Never.” When her sniffles and little hiccups subsided, replaced with deep breaths that spoke of sleep, Iain silently made his way to her and slipped down before her. Carefully, he reached out, skimmed his fingers along her cheek and watched her sleep, studying her, marvelling at her and the spiky lashes that shone in the dim firelight like raindrops on crystal.

  “Beth,” he murmured, his soul feeling heavy. “I left you alone in the dark, didn’t I? I have been as blind as you. I will try to find a way for you to see me, my Beth, and pray that when you do, you’ll discover something redeemable there.”

  ELIZABETH STIRRED, only to realize that after her outburst she had fallen asleep on the floor. She tried to get up, but realized she was pinned by the blankets. Though she tugged at them, they wouldn’t move, and that’s when she realized there was someone there with her.

  Iain. She smelt him. Felt the familiarity of his touch as he brushed the loose strands of hair away from her face. When had he returned? Had he heard her? Oh, God, had he seen her?

  “I’m so sorry,” he whispered.

  “Let me up.”

  “You—we—can’t run from this any longer.”

  “I can’t talk about this now,” she snapped, pulling the blanket from him and covering herself up. She wanted to hide from his eyes, the humiliation of having given in to an overwhelming fear and self-pity.

  “When will we talk about it?” he asked. He touched her face, and she flinched. He cupped her cheek in his palm, wouldn’t let her turn away and hide from him.

  “What can I give you, Beth?”

  What she was too much of a coward to hear. “The truth, Iain. All of it.”

  “Truth, Elizabeth? The truth can hurt as much as lies.”

  “I have no need of lies. They offer nothing but to placate my vanity and pride.”

  “What stands between us is not pride, nor vanity.”

  “But it is lies.”

  How she wished she could see him, what expression he wore. Was he calculating his response? If she possessed the gift of sight, would she see in his eyes the need to escape, to formulate a plan in order to make her believe what she wished? She was almost glad for her blindness, because watching him trying to lie to her would break her, whereas being blind only made her ignorant of it.

  “I have hurt you in the past. Yes. I won’t—I can’t deny it.”

  “You lied to me.” Her chin instinctively lifted in challenge. “And I won’t make it easier on you by denying it.

  You abandoned me, Iain. You left me not only confused by it all, but shattered by your departure. You have no idea the pain you caused, or what it took for me to over-come it. You don’t know what I lost… What we lost.”

  “What did we lose, Beth?” The question was no more than a whisper, and she knew he looked at her, watched her with unblinking eyes.

  “An innocence, Iain. A belief in life’s softer, intangible concepts—like dreams and hopes.”

  “I was never innocent,” he said, his voice hard.

  “I was, in the beginning. But in the end I knew what it was to lose it, to lose faith.” Taking a deep breath, Elizabeth gathered her courage to tell him what she had never told another soul. “You left me with child, Iain.

  Your child. You turned your back on us.”

  “A child?” His breath was a rasp.

  She nodded, and she felt the fluttering of his hands on her face, tilting her so that he could look into her eyes.

  “There was a babe?”

  She had never told anyone this, not even Lucy or Isabella. She had wanted to, that afternoon at tea, but she could not make herself say the words. She had not, despite all the years in between, finished grieving for the baby they had created, and the life that could have been theirs, had Iain not abandoned her.

  “Beth!” His voice was urgent, frightened. “Tell me.”

  “I was a few months along when you left me. I…I had planned to tell you that afternoon, but things… Well, you made it very clear what you wanted in your life, and it was not me, or a child.”

  “What happened? The babe—”

  “I was nearly four months along when I lost it. It was shortly after I lost my sight, and I tripped down the stairs—plunged down them, really. When I regained consciousness, I was bleeding heavily, and I knew then that the babe was lost. I never forgave you for that, for giving me something I had always dreamed of, only to have it snatched away.”

  “I…I didn’t know. God, Beth. I… You should have told me.”

  “When? After you explained that it was over between us?” He gave a little sound of frustration, pain. He was raking his hands through his hair. “Why would I tell you, when you made it very clear that you were severing all ties between us?”

  “Because you should have known—that I…” “You wouldn’t have, Iain. You might have provided the material things for the child, but you would not have been there in the way I wanted you. It was not in your nature then. I think, deep down, I always knew that, even from the start. That if I got with child, it would be my problem to deal with. But I risked it, because I wanted that, a piece of you I could always claim. It was twelve years ago, and still I think of what might have been. I was prepared to love the child for both of us.” CLOSING HIS EYES, Iain stood by the bed, his hand wrapped around the carved post as he watched her there, proud and honourable. She had wanted to hear the truth, and he didn’t want to speak it.

  A child. He’d fathered a child, and he felt himself grieving for the loss. Damn his soul, he’d been such an idiot.

  “You lied to me, Iain. Admit it. It’s all I want. To hear the truth.”

  “Lied about loving you?” he asked. “That was no’a lie.” His accent was slipping. “I loved you, Beth, but in the way of a twenty-year-old lad. It’s no’ a beautiful, simple love, lass.” He swallowed, tried to regain control of himself. “It’s a physical need, a desire born in the baseness of men that we feel. It’s no’ with the heart or the soul.”

  “So you were in lust, then? Why did you not tell me?”

  “Because you were too smart for that.” She stiffened, but he carried on, confessing his sins, showing her what a monster he truly was. “I knew you were no’ in it for lust, and I couldna walk away from you. No’ without having you. I wanted your goodness. To taste what it was like. I wanted to be loved for the first time in my life. I wanted to be touched softly, by hands that loved me, and didn’t seek to hurt.”

  “You lied to me the entire time,” she whispered, and the ravaged expression on her face nearly killed him.

  But the truth was already starting to come out, and he couldn’t hide it. He had no wish to. It would either save him or condemn him. Either way, he must own up to it.

  “In the beginning, aye. I did. I was consumed by you, Beth. You were my last thought before I fell asleep and my first thought when I rose. At first, it was all I would think of, the sex, losing myself in the long grass with you. But near the end… No, it was no longer lust, but something else. Something that shocked and scared me.”

  “And why should it have shocked you?” she asked as she rose from the floor, her blanket wrapped around her, and slowly walked to her dressing table. Her fingers caressed the gathered objects until she stopped at the hair-brush, her fingertips gliding over the bristles. “Perhaps it was merely your conscience, Iain. Perhaps you knew deep down inside that using me, telling me that you loved me so that I might lie with you, was morally wrong.”

  “P’raps, but I never gave much credence to my conscience then, and I don’t do it much now, either. Except in regards to you. No, I think it something else. It was love, Beth. I felt the stirrings of it, and it scared the hell out of me. All I could think of was…” He stopped, blew out a breath and pressed his eyes shut. He could not say the words. Could not admit the shameful truth.

  “I suppose the reality of it all made you have second thoughts. It was one thing to enjoy the pleasure of sex with me, quite another to find yourself tied t
o me.”

  “That’s no’ it,” he said quietly. But he lied. He stood and lied to Elizabeth, and how he hated himself for it.

  For his weakness. He wanted to keep her at his side. But he wouldn’t have her if he admitted the truth, what he had feared all those years ago—what he still feared. To admit it now was to have her leave him. But maybe she had already left?

  “Then what is it, Iain? Were you ashamed? I believed we kept our liaison quiet at first because of the scandal.

  But as it developed, as you spoke of your feelings and love, I assumed you would offer marriage. Our relationship might slowly come out, but you didn’t want to talk of it. You didn’t want anyone to know. Naturally, I thought you rather gentlemanly at the time, having a concern about my reputation. But I learned the truth quickly—that you were ashamed to be seen with me. You didn’t want your mates to know that you had fallen for a woman who would most likely end up blind. Not the great Iain Sinclair. How could he be seen with a woman such as that?”

  “Stop it,” he growled in warning.

  “Why? Does it hurt too much? Am I coming too close to the truth?”

  “Because that’s not it at all.”

  “Really? You were never shamed by me?” He shouldn’t pause, he knew, but he had to. He had to get this right. She would think him stalling for time to formulate a lie, but that wasn’t what he was doing. If ever there was a moment when the words had to be utterly perfect, this was it.

  “I think we’ve said all there is to say here, Iain. You were ashamed then, and I don’t believe that has changed now.”

  Stalking across the room, he went to her, wrapped his big hand around her arm and tugged her away from the table. “We are not done here,” he said. “And everything has changed—everything, damn you. I was one and twenty when we began our affair. I was young and stupid and foolish. And I canna take back what I did, or what I thought at that time.”