Dark Hero; A Gothic Romance (Reluctant Heroes)

by Silver, Lily

  I do not! Donovan opened his mouth to refute such rubbish, but caught himself.

  “He undoubtedly believes we’re all idiots compared to that superior intellect.”

  “He was so sweet and attentive during the voyage. He changed as soon as we arrived here. He became moody and distant. I wish that kind man would come back, but I’m afraid that Donovan doesn’t exist.”

  Oh, Lizzie! Donovan closed his eyes, shamed by her confession.

  “He’s been using disguises for years, Madame. I doubt he’ll be able to give them up.”

  “But . . . he promised me he would, last night and again today!”

  “I have him boxed into a corner. He’ll say or do anything to prevent outsiders from investigating his affairs.” Jack countered. “I need you to be truthful, my lady, as I may not be able to return so easily after today. Are you being treated well? Has he hurt you?”

  “Captain Rawlings!” Elizabeth chastened. “How could you imply such a thing?”

  “Those bruises on your wrists are reason enough, my lady.”

  Donovan held his breath. Elizabeth could damn him or exonerate him in the next instant.

  “Oh . . . He didn’t do this, captain. It’s from the seizure. He kept my head from hitting the cobblestones, but my limbs are terribly bruised from the convulsions. I feel as if I’ve been run over by a coach and four. See, even my elbows are swollen and bruised.”

  Jack’s sharp intake of breath betrayed his outrage at the landscape Lizzie revealed to him.

  The fist squeezing Donovan’s heart loosened, allowing him to breathe a little easier. Lizzie was defending him, and not allowing Jack to influence her impressions as he’d feared.

  “Yes.” Jack hesitated. “I saw it happen. And it looks quite painful. But I remind you, Madame, yesterday you were vehement that I not speak to him on your behalf. You gave me to believe you feared he might punish you if I did so.”

  “I didn’t mean physically! And I-I was afraid. I behaved foolishly. He’s been so angry of late. I didn’t know how he might react if you spoke to him on my behalf.” Lizzie admitted, taking the blame herself, as was her habit. “He’s been very sweet to me since then. I didn’t mean to give you the idea I was in danger, sir.”

  “Any young lady would be frightened, living under these conditions.” Jack responded with indulgence. “Donovan is adept at making others think he’s on their side. He could be lulling you with false promises due to my presence. Once I’m gone, you’ll be defenseless here.”

  Defenseless! Oh, that’s rich. She’s my wife, you idiot, not my enemy.

  “Captain Rawlings,” Elizabeth scolded. “Had I known you would come rushing in and attempt to persuade me to run away from my husband, I never would have sent that note.”

  “Why did you send it?”

  “I was frightened by his behavior. I needed to know if he has any mental peculiarities. You assured me he does not. Did you lie when you assured me he isn’t mad?”

  Oh, that was quite big of you, Black Jack. Why didn’t you just tell her I’m bloody well crazy? It would have suited your purposes and you could have whisked her away to your lair.

  “No, but I’ve had a great deal of time to think about this since yesterday.” Jack responded. “A man cannot fully know the workings of another man’s mind. My dear lady, all I’m saying is that you needn’t stay here out of loyalty to a man whom you’ve admitted frightens you. I could rent a modest house in Basseterre if you’d rather not make the long journey to England right away. I’m not as well situated as he is financially, but you could live in comfort under my protection. I care for you, very much, my dear Elizabeth. And I give you my solemn word that I would never expect anything from you in return.”

  You dirty, double-crossing bastard! Donovan held his breath, waiting for Elizabeth’s response to the captain’s scandalous offer.

  “I-I-I-oh--oh.” She was trying to speak, but in her agitation, she seemed unable to.

  Donovan knew he should cut this off, for the sake of her health. First, he needed to hear her response to Jack’s brazen offer of escape.

  “Please try to understand.” She whispered in a strained voice that was a strong portent of coming tears. “I encountered hell on that smuggler’s ship. I couldn’t have survived, not without Donovan’s support. His great kindness is all that carried me through the darkest time of my life, captain. And now you’re asking me to betray him—I cannot, I will not-- ”

  “I understand, you feel grateful to him for caring for you when you were at your weakest point. But, I don’t intend to leave you trapped in another hell, one made of gratitude. I’m here for you, Elizabeth. I’m here to help you, in whatever capacity you require.”

  “No. You do not understand.” Elizabeth returned with vehemence. “I love my husband. I could never leave him! I know I said yesterday that if we lived in England I might have gone to stay with my grandfather for a time--” She paused, sniffling as emotion overcame her.

  Damn it, Jack. Take a hint. You did your gallant knight routine and she’s refused you.

  “If we lived in England—“ Elizabeth went on after composing herself, “It would be a few day’s journey by coach to my grandfather’s estate and it would be an extended visit until Donovan decided he wished me to return. We are not in England, sir. I could never place myself at the mercy of rough sailors for the duration of a sea voyage again, not to mention that by doing something so reckless, I’d be destroying any chance of reconciliation. Donovan would never journey to England to ask me to come back to him. He’d cut his losses and divorce me.”

  Donovan strangled a pained gasp, impaled by her lack of confidence in his love for her.

  “Thank you, for being concerned.” She continued in voice heightened by strong agitation. “I’ve felt so alone here—and I never expected—oh, please--just go—“

  Donovan heard footsteps, and then the door closing. He stood, pressing his forehead and his palms against the wall separating him from his beloved. He winced as soft sobs wafted through the open window. Pushing away from the wall, he turned with fists clenched, torn between the need to comfort Elizabeth and the desire to go after Rawlings.

  The weeping intensified. He strode into the room and gathered her up into his arms.

  “Why did you leave me alone with him? H-he—oh—it was awful!”

  “You weren’t alone. I was on the veranda the whole time. And please make note that should you ever leave me, I would cross hell to bring you back to me.”

  Elizabeth blanched, realizing he heard every word. “I’m sorry, my lord, I’m so sorry!”

  “No!” He chastened. “I’m the one who should be sorry for making you unhappy, and I am, believe me, I am.” Donovan hugged her, vowing to never allow her to suffer a moment’s regret again for becoming his wife.

  Once Lizzie was calm, he marched down to the salon. Jack was waiting for him.

  “Well, are you going to call me out or not?” Jack asked with amusement.

  “How dare you make an obscene offer to my wife. I should kill you.”

  “You heard the lady; you are her preferred poison.”

  Donovan gave the man his fist full in the face and then quickly brought one leg behind the captain’s knees, disturbing his center of balance. Jack landed with a thud, flat on his back.

  “No!” The captain held up a hand to his companions. “This is between him and me.”

  Rawlings rolled up from the floor. Donovan assumed a defensive stance as he waited for Rawlings to rush him. Jack did as he anticipated. He turned about, grasped Jack’s arm and rolled the captain over his shoulder in a move he learned in the east. Jack’s fall was interrupted by a low table. Table and vase shattered. Jack groaned, his hand went protectively to his backside.

  “God’s tooth!” One of Jack’s men swore. “How’d he do that?”

  Jack lurched to his feet. He offered Donovan a broad grin. “Oh, she’s a fetching creature, to be sure.” He shook his head,
grinning hideously. “I didn’t believe for a minute she’d accept an offer from an old salt like me. But I knew it would set your blood boiling. Makes the treasure seem that much more valuable when you think someone wants to take it from you, doesn’t it?”

  “You conniving squid’s dick!” Donovan spat. “You set me up.”

  “Aye!” Jack snorted, thoroughly amused. “Let’s not quibble about who set up whom. I knew you’d be hovering nearby, listening to our exchange. And just look at you!” Jack made an expansive sweep with his hand towards Donovan. “Frothing at the mouth like a rabid canine, ready to protect what’s yours when twenty-four hours ago you weren’t speaking to the poor girl. Damn it, you really don’t deserve her.”

  Advancing upon him once more, the captain took another swing at Donovan.

  Chapter Twenty Five

  Donovan instructed her to remain in bed and relax.

  Elizabeth couldn’t relax. He said he’d be back in a few moments.

  Surely he wouldn’t hurt the captain. Rawlings was his longtime friend.

  Oh, the poor captain. She threw off the covers and rose from the bed, pacing as she worried for Rawlings’ well being. But--he asked her to become his—it was unthinkable!

  “I could provide for you to live comfortably under my protection.” Her face burned as she recalled the illicit offer. How could she bear to face that man again?

  She couldn’t, she told herself as she limped about her husband’s suite. She couldn’t face the man again without wilting from humiliation.

  And Donovan had heard everything. He overheard the indecent proposal, and there had been murder in her husband’s eyes when he left.

  Elizabeth raised a jittery hand to her strangled chest. She couldn’t bear to see that man again, but she didn’t wish him to be maimed or killed for his indiscretion, either. With Donovan’s temper, the outcome could be none other.

  *******

  Donovan sank down in the Queen Anne’s chair in the salon, cradling his swelling cheek with a fresh piece of beef that was solicitously retrieved from the cellar by the new butler.

  “Perhaps a drink would steady your nerves, my lord? I believe port is your preference.”

  He was coming to appreciate why Elizabeth found Giles appealing. The man was the epitome of decorous concern. “Yes. I would also have a word with you as the head of the household staff. I’m disappointed with the behavior of the maids in the courtyard yesterday.”

  The butler handed him the libation with a sour face. “No more so than myself, my lord.”

  “What would have happened if I had not been there to take care of Elizabeth?”

  “I would have attended her, sir. When I was a lower footman in England, my employer’s son suffered epilepsy. We were all given instruction in how to care for Master Percival. I shall instruct the staff to be more helpful in the future; unless you prefer to speak with them, sir?”

  “No, you may deal with it.” Donovan wanted to point out that his wife did not have epilepsy, the severity of her head injury merely brought on similar symptoms. It seemed a weak argument, even to him. Only time would determine if the seizures were transient, or if she was indeed cursed with the unfortunate illness. “Inform them I will not tolerate whispering about the incident. My lady does not remember it and I’ll not have her hearing exaggerated accounts from the servants. It would frighten her unnecessarily.”

  “You may depend upon me, sir.” The stolid servant bowed and withdrew.

  Donovan held the cold steak against his cheek and sipped his port. He looked about the pristine salon that had been recently painted a deep, sunny yellow. Sunbeams streamed through the windows, banishing the prior gloom. Elizabeth was responsible for the pleasant changes. She exposed this old, neglected house to the healing rays of the sun, just as her presence in his life opened the cold, dark tomb that had been his heart.

  And now, thanks to Jack’s malicious meddling, his wife had the option of leaving him firmly planted in her mind. White hot anger suffused his blood once more. He set the steak aside and rose with determination. Duchamp wanted a position on land, did he?

  Well, it appeared he had a job for the former king’s assassin after all.

  *******

  Elizabeth sank down at her husband’s dressing table and stared into the looking glass. She sniffled and scrubbed at her watery eyes with the palms of her hands. Seeking distraction, she examined the items spread neatly before her. She loosened the cover of a tin of ointment that smelled of peppermint and lemon, sniffed it, and rubbed a small portion on the back of her hand. It brought a warm, soothing sensation on her skin. The black silk sheath Donovan wore when he pretended to be the count lay folded beside the ointment. She held it in front of her face and gazed at her reflection through the eyeholes.

  The silk felt soft against her face. Cool and comforting. It smelled like Donovan, of spice and tobacco. She wouldn’t mind his wearing it if he were charming instead of boorish beneath it. Elizabeth imagined him playing a highwayman for her amusement, stealing kisses from her and threatening to steal much more once he spirited her away to his lair.

  She banished the fantasy with a weary sigh. Playful and Donovan didn’t combine easily in her mind. Somber, hard, demanding, those were words that described him more accurately.

  Dropping the mask, she opened a velvet case containing a pair of silver handled razors. She traced the glistening edge of one with a fingertip. Would he forgive me if he knew?

  If there were to be a true reconciliation between them she must confess her duplicity and face the consequences. Perhaps--if she were careful to confess only the essentials to Donovan and avoid the particulars, she might escape unscathed. The bare truth remained that she was a maid. As his wife, that reality had to be breached at some point. There was no need for him to know the rest.

  Elizabeth pressed a fist to her lips. Her chest burned and her throat ached. She had to be careful. Any chance of forgiveness would be lost if he knew what took place in that dark hold. He assumed she’d been raped. She did not correct his assumption. It was the same as lying, for it was within her power to alleviate his concern and she chose to remain silent.

  “Oh you stupid, reckless girl!” She told her reflection.

  How could she tell him? Her husband possessed some rather lofty ideas about honor. He might not be able to forgive her. He could divorce her. Then again, he might feel forced to keep her out of duty but never look kindly upon her again. The bleak prospect of enduring Donovan’s contempt for the rest of her days was unbearable. She endured one man’s smoldering hatred as a child, having little choice to do otherwise.

  She would not endure it again as an adult. She’d run away.

  Oh, but to where? She was in a foreign place, devoid of friends, family or monetary support. She’d be forced to accept the type of protection Captain Rawlings offered. She’d be at the mercy of feckless men who would promise no future beyond her present ability to please them. It was a frightening, desolate future. She couldn’t bear being thrust so low, beneath the regard of all decent society forever. She covered her face with her hands as she imagined being forced to entertain the most revolting men and submit to disgusting acts to please them.

  “Elizabeth?” Large, familiar hands circled her shoulders. “What is wrong?”

  Mortified by the grim prospect before her and the cruel images conjured by her misery, Elizabeth lifted her head to stare at her sorry reflection in the mirror. Dark stains shadowed watery, swollen eyes. Her nose was red and her unbound hair was tangled from anxiously winding her fingers through it. “Nothing, sir.” She swiped at her eyes and reached for the ivory brush with the intention of busying herself with it.

  “Ah, my mistake.” Donovan’s sarcasm sliced through her as he snatched the brush from her before she could attempt to repair her appearance. “Where is your maid?”

  “I cannot say. S-she often disappears at this t-time.”

  Donovan’s brow furrowed, but he refrained fr
om commenting. He didn’t need to.

  “You will not fire her!” Elizabeth challenged as she held his gaze in the mirror.

  “I can, and I will.” He replied, his eyes narrowing. “A lady’s maid does not wander off without her mistress’ permission. Her duty is to attend you at all times unless given leave to take an afternoon for herself.”

  Elizabeth made a noise in her throat, quelling her fury. She had little cause to champion Chloe when she herself had much to answer for. She sucked in her breath, resolving to be meek in her lord’s presence and not quarrelsome, for once. “She’s my only friend here.”

  The quiet fury in his features made her insides twist into an uncomfortable knot. She nibbled on her lower lip, aching to defend Chloe, to demand that she stay, yet, fearful that her own standing with the man behind her was severely weakened due to their continuing estrangement. She must be careful. Years with Fletcher had taught her the virtue of biding her time until the atmosphere proved favorable for bargaining with the devil. She had to calm herself and find a reasonable argument for keeping Chloe, avoid the temptation to rush into the fray, matching her fury with his and ultimately losing the battle in the resulting clash of wills.

  She inhaled sharply, attempting to find calm amid the storm of frantic emotions churning within. Stay calm, don’t plead—don’t beg—and for heaven’s sake, don’t cry!

  “What of Tabby?” He asked, in response to her statement about the scarcity of friends here. Donovan’s voice was taut, as if he too, were struggling to contain his frustration. “My mother is very fond of her house woman at Belle Reve plantation. They had tea on the back porch every afternoon when I was a boy. Tabby hasn’t been unpleasant to you, I hope?”

  Elizabeth rolled her lips and studied her bruised wrist, avoiding the piercing blue eyes studying her in the looking glass as she refused to give the expected response. She tried to befriend the sour woman, but Tabby had remained frosty in her dealings with her mistress. Taking her cue from the master, Elizabeth assumed.