Nervously he ran his hands through his hair, struggling to find the right way to speak the truth. “I felt many things, but never shame. Fear, aye. I feared your impending blindness, how you would be dependent upon me for everything—”
She gasped, struggled in his hold. Her eyes were narrowed, shooting him daggers. “You were scared?” she choked in outrage. “And did you think I wasn’t? Did you think the prospect of forever being in the dark was a welcome one for me?”
He gave her a little shake because he was scared now, and worried about what would happen when the truth came tumbling out. “I didn’t know what to expect, or how… How you might look after it. And aye, that’s childish and vain and arrogant, but I was a vain, arrogant boy then. And I was thinking of myself, and worrying over what the rest of my life might be like with you. And then there was the matter of—”
“Your heir,” she declared, challenging him, “Did you imagine your heir like me, blind and dependent and utterly worthless?”
“I didn’t know what it would be like. I couldna fathom it.”
“So you ran from it all, because you were a coward.
You left me to bear it all alone, while you went away and ignored it—never to be touched or burdened by it—or me.”
That hurt, but it was no less than he deserved.
“Aye, I did, Beth, because I was frightened, and my feelings… They were growing stronger, and I knew how you felt about me. You loved me, and I knew it for the truth, and that scared the bloody hell out of me, too. And I was scared about one more thing, Beth. I was scared that I couldna do it, that I wouldn’t be what you needed, that I wasna strong enough to see you through it all. You see, that was the only grown-up thought in my head at that moment, that I wasna the sort who could help you through it all and stand by you. I ran no’ only from you, but from me. The inevitable disappointment you would have in me when I failed you. I’m still scared, still wanting to run at times when I look into your eyes and wonder how I will ever be the sort of man you deserve. I want so much to deserve you. To be worthy of a woman like you.” Capturing her cheeks, he looked deeply into her eyes and said, his voice fierce with emotion, “I knew I would only hurt you, Beth, and I…I realized that I loved you too much to see your love for me wither and die because I wasn’t strong enough to stand by you. To help you when you needed me most. I was afraid of the future, so I ran away from it.”
Brushing his thumbs over her cheeks, he wiped away the tears that ran down them. “I was never ashamed of you, Beth. But I was ashamed of myself. How weak I was, how afraid I was of your future, and how it would impact mine. I always believed in you, in your strength, I just never believed in myself. And that’s the truth. What’s more…and it is so selfish, this truth, but I can own it now, Beth. Leaving you, I thought, was a blessing, and it was a means of self-preservation, because I never, ever, wanted to look into your face and see you gazing at me like you now are.”
She reached for his wrist, clutched it. “How do I look?”
“Hurt. Pained. Destroyed.”
“If I could look into your eyes, what would I see in them, Iain?”
“Devastation. Shame for what I was. Hatred for the vanity and arrogance of my youth. A love for you that has never, ever died, but has only grown and matured, and become all-consuming. Tears,” he said, and pressed his face to hers so she could “see” them. “Because I know it is truly over now that the truth is out, and I don’t know how I’m going to live without you. Forgive me,” he whispered, then stole a kiss from her lips. “Forgive me, and the boy I was, and the man I turned out to be.” She reached for his other wrist, captured it in her hand.
“What of your marriage? Your banns were read in church.
You desired another.”
Pulling her forward, he cupped her cheek in his palm.
“No, I didn’t. But I did allow my father to take control of my life. What you don’t know, Beth, is that I lost myself when I left you. I was a wreck. I didn’t care if I lived or died. I only wanted you, but the fear still ruled me—and so did my father. I allowed him to make arrangements for me to wed a woman of his choosing. And when it came time to do it, to give another woman my vows, my fidelity, my body…” he swallowed “…I couldn’t do it without imagining your face, without thinking and pretending that she was you. I couldn’t do it, Beth,” he said, whispering against her cheek. “Because I knew that the only woman I could ever love, ever promise to cherish and protect and be faithful to, was you. It’s always only ever been you. And it always will be, Beth. You have my heart. My love. And my regret that I am not the man you deserve.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
THE WINDOW RATTLED, stirring Lizzy from her slumber.
How long ago was it that Iain had left her, his confession echoing in her mind as she cried herself to sleep? He had somehow freed her with his confession. Made her see beyond her fear and hurt, and into his.
They had been young and naive when they came together for the first time. With no experience of the world, or human nature. Neither of them had been prepared for what they would discover in each other. Was it wrong of her to condemn him for a mortal weakness—fear of the unknown? Should he not have had the right to worry about how she would deal with her blindness, how they would manage? Her vision loss had been gradual, not sudden. She had known it was coming, the day when she would see nothing but black. Sometimes when one knew an event was going to happen, it made the agony worse, harder to bear. Sometimes the anticipation of waiting, wondering, worrying, was more than one could bear.
To Iain, who had always been raised to be strong, to show no weakness, that natural fear for her, and for him, and what they might give up, was more than he knew how to cope with.
The window rattled again, and she stirred, listening, an absurd hope leaping in her breast. Was it Iain? Had he returned? She already knew that with the morning light she would seek him out. Would go to his house and finish where they had left off. He had been completely honest with her, baring his soul to her, despite the fact that there was darkness in there. She owed him the same honesty. The words he had longed to hear. That he had not destroyed her feelings for him. That love for him still resided within her heart, and always would. From this day forward, fear no longer held them captive.
Another rattle, and she wondered if the wind had once more picked up. She thought of calling for Maggie, but instead tossed back the covers and padded across the floor.
A breeze blew in, robbing her of breath. Strange how the window, which had been locked, suddenly blew open—
“Don’t make a sound.”
Her mouth was covered in an instant, and a cloth slapped over her face. She fought in her captor’s hold, twisting her body and flailing her limbs, but her cries were muffled by the cloth, and someone else reached for her feet.
“Wait till she’s out, and then we’ll take her to the carriage and collect our wages.”
“She’s strong,” the one grunted, letting her foot slip from his hold. She fell onto the floor, uncoordinated from the ether. Its stench and taste made her wretch as she tumbled downward. The side of her head hit the floorboards, and she heard nothing for a few seconds as she fought to prevent herself from descending into the darkness.
“Check her,” the first voice said. “If she’s dead, Mr.
Lasseter will have our bollocks strung up.”
“Alive,” his partner announced. But her mind was getting cloudier, the ether beginning to take hold. “Let’s load her up before someone comes to check on her.” She struggled, but they held her tighter, pressing the cloth firmly over her nose and mouth.
MINUTES LATER, ORPHEUS WATCHED as his prize was bundled into the carriage. His lover sat beside him, studying the woman, who had at last slipped into unconsciousness.
“She’s nothing much to look at,” his lover said sourly.
“I can’t imagine both of you desiring her that much to go to this amount of trouble.”
“She’
s worth more to me than you can imagine.”
“What now, my love?”
Orpheus smiled and thought how close he was to fulfilling his revenge. “Alynwick. He’s the next piece in the plan. Bring him to me.”
THE FRANTIC RAPPING on the front door pulled Iain’s gaze from the bottom of his Scotch glass. Since leaving Elizabeth he had been steadily drinking himself into oblivion. His heart hurt. His soul ached, and no amount of drink would erase from his memory the image of Beth, and the expression in her eyes. The knowledge of what once might have been his, now gone. The woman of his dreams, a child they had made. How foolish and cowardly he had been to give them up.
“My lord,” Sutherland began, “a good night’s sleep will make things better.”
“I can’t sleep,” he muttered, pouring more Scotch.
“I’ve ruined it, Sutherland. The whole bloody thing.”
“Lasses can bedevil a man, right enough. But that lass,” his valet said, clapping him on his good shoulder and squeezing, “she’s got a good sensible head on her shoulders. She’ll soon realize that the truth of the past doesna need to become the truth of the present.”
“You didn’t see the expression in her eyes,” he muttered, draining the glass. “I killed whatever faith she might have left in me. I showed her a glimpse inside the true man, and she was horrified and disgusted by what she saw.”
Sutherland was about to speak, when Iain’s butler burst into the library. Behind him, a hysterical Maggie shoved him aside.
“What have you done with her, you devil?” she cried, flinging herself toward Iain.
“Here now,” Sutherland murmured, reaching her first and holding her arms at her sides. “You’re like a bee in a gale, lass.”
“Unhand me this instant, you barbarian!” Maggie commanded. Sutherland merely arched his eyebrows.
“And who would you be, lass, ordering me about?”
“Margaret Farley, companion and confidante of Lady Elizabeth York.”
The Scotch had dulled his reflexes, but suddenly Iain stood, the hairs on his nape rising in alarm. Maggie was dressed in her bedclothes, with a cloak hastily thrown over them. She looked as though she had just dragged herself out of bed, and why not? It was barely six in the morning, not quite dawn even.
“Maggie?” he asked, confusion clouding his mind.
“Where have you hidden her?” she accused.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“You came to her, ravished her, broke her heart, and now she’s gone. What have you done to her?” He was stone sober when he reached Maggie and took her by her shoulders. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“There now,” Sutherland grunted, pulling him away from the woman. “That’s no way to treat a lady, my lord.” Maggie sent Sutherland a glare, then dropped her hands on her hips and narrowed her gaze at Iain. “You know exactly what I mean. You took her from her home.
You’re keeping her, no doubt, for some nefarious pleasure of your own.”
“Beth’s gone.” Iain found Sutherland’s face swimming before him. Reaching for the corner of his desk, he gripped it, tried to muddle through the slush in his mind. “My God, she’s gone. Taken.”
“You mean you don’t have her?”
“That’s what he’s been trying to say, woman,” Sutherland grunted. “Now, Sinclair, let’s think this through. We know who has her, don’t we? There really can be only one person. Let’s formulate a plan, call in Black. Don’t do anything rash—”
But Iain was in motion, barking out orders to footmen for his carriage, pulling out a box containing his duelling pistols and a set of knives, which he thrust into his greatcoat that hung on the back of the chair. “I’m off, Sutherland. Return to Sussex House and watch over Maggie and the other servants. Perhaps a ransom note will arrive. If it does, I want to know.”
“Too rash, my lord. You’re going off half-cocked.” Iain whirled on him. “The woman I love is gone. Taken God knows where. She’s blind,” he hissed, fear making him strong and vengeful. “She won’t even know where she is or who has her. She’ll be in the dark, alone, frightened. She might be hurt, or God above, something worse, and I’m not going to sit here wasting time, wringing my hands and trying to think of my next step. I’m leaving, Sutherland, whether you believe it a cockamamy idea or not.”
“Where will you go?”
“The House of Orpheus, where else?”
“Alone?”
“I don’t have time to wait on others, Sutherland. I mean to find Beth— now. ” “Send word of your whereabouts, my lord, so I can ensure your safety. Shall I inform Black?”
“Yes. He’ll want to keep Isabella protected. And I’ll need his help—but I’ll not wait for it now. Tell him to meet up with me at Orpheus, or Sussex House.”
“Watch yer back. And keep a cool head. Your lass won’t appreciate you dead.”
After running down the steps, his coat heavy with weapons, Iain jumped up into the carriage, aware that for the first time in his life he tasted the true meaning of terror.
GONE. THE CLUB had been emptied out. The bedrooms he had seen when he had last been there were bare, stripped to the walls and floor. With his pistol pulled, Iain pointed it as he entered each room, prepared to shoot and kill. But there was no one there. The place was deserted.
Making his way over to the wall with the hidden door, he bent down, pistol pointed, and entered the hall where he had last seen Nigel Lasseter disappear. This time there were no guards to stop him, and he entered the chamber that Lasseter had used. The stench of mildew and dirt assaulted him, and he noticed a pile of filthy clothes that had been tossed into a corner. Men’s clothes, he saw, as he used the toe of his boot to sift through them. Glanc-ing up, he realized that this room had not been emptied like the others. A dresser and dressing table remained.
Iain began a systematic search of all the drawers.
Nothing. If Lasseter had Elizabeth, she was not being held here. Lasseter was gone, and with him all traces of his whereabouts.
“Well, a man cannot just disappear into thin air,” he muttered. He might enjoy acting the part of a mysterious magi, but the fact was Lasseter was a flesh-and-blood man. He had to be somewhere in the city. But where?
Iain’s eyes went once more to the clothes marked with dirt and soil, reeking of damp earth and must.
A tunnel. Somewhere in this place, Lasseter had used the skills that Sheldon had taught him, and had dug himself an escape route. Iain doubted he’d done it alone. But he did know one of his accomplices.
HOW TEMPTING IT WOULD BE to squeeze the soft flesh of her throat and peer into her eyes as he snuffed the life out of her. She was alarmed, truly frightened by the rage that ruled him. Her eyes were wide, wild. And disgust-ingly aroused.
“Where is she?” Iain growled, increasing the pressure on Georgiana’s throat in small increments, showing her that indeed, he could very easily choke her. And might very well enjoy doing so.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Don’t lie, Georgiana,” he rasped. “You have something to do with this.”
“I don’t even know who you’re talking about,” she gasped.
“Elizabeth York.”
“What do I care for some blind spinster?” she spat.
“You had better care, because if one hair on her head is harmed, I’ll make you suffer. Whatever you’ve done to her, I’ll make certain it’s five times worse for you.” Her smile turned cruel, taunting. “You’ll never find her. And if you do, she won’t be alive.” He squeezed harder, trying to frighten her into telling him, but the witch only laughed, closed her eyes as though she were enjoying what he was doing.
“Does your husband know what you are, Marie?” he challenged. Her eyes opened, looking glazed.
“Larabie is no longer a concern. I’ve disposed of him, as I always do when complications arise.” She smiled, parted her lips, ran her hand up Iain’s chest. “You are such a beast, Alynwic
k. You have no idea what pleasure—true pleasure I’ve had from you. I’ve always known this side of you lurked just beneath your barely civilized veneer.
You could take me now,” she murmured seductively, “and I would more than welcome you. I would beg you.”
“Where is Elizabeth?” he demanded, sickened by this creature.
“Perhaps you’ll find her where you’re going.” Iain heard the scrape of a boot too late. He turned, and was bashed in the head with a poker from the hearth.
Falling to his knees, he struggled against the pain, but was taken by surprise by a punch to his face from the opposite side. There were two of them, he realized as his vision started to swim. He tried to fight, but one man held his arms while the other pierced the flesh of his wounded shoulder with the tip of the poker. He roared in pain, reached for the hem of Georgiana’s gown, but he was pulled back, a cloth placed over his mouth and nose.
Beth… He tried to fight them, tried to fight for her, but the cloth was drenched in ether, and he was rendered helpless by the drug. When he collapsed on the floor, he saw Beth in his mind, the effects of the ether threaten-ing unconsciousness.
“Take him to the club,” he heard Georgiana order.
“But don’t kill him. I’m not done with him yet. We have much more to discover about one another.” She brushed her palm over her throat, gazed at the marks on her flesh made by Iain.
“I’ll kill you for what you have done,” he growled, fighting the ether.
She laughed, the sound throaty and aroused. “Dear God, how badly I want you,” she taunted. “Lasseter will not have you. You, Sinclair, are the man I have waited for all my life. And I will not lose you now.” IN THE DARKNESS, Lizzy listened to the distant echo of water dripping onto stones. She was quite alone now, with only her thoughts. Fear had long since left her, as she lay here on the cold, damp stone in nothing more than her night rail.
She had no way of knowing how long she had been here. Had it been hours, or days? Her assailant had kept her drugged with the ether, and she had slept away the time, unconscious, in the darkness of her mind, and this tomb she was imprisoned in. She wondered if her brother had gotten her letter and was even now on his way back home. She didn’t dare hope that Alynwick knew she was gone—they’d parted ways. It had felt final when he had left her chamber, as though they had said everything that needed to be said. For all she knew, he might have even left the city.
Temptation & Twilight Page 31
