One Night of Sin

by Gaelen Foley

  “Oh, Alec.” She shivered, remembering all those gamblers whose fates were printed in the newspapers, blowing their brains out or hanging themselves, after having chased ruin to the end of the line. Such exits were reported as customary, unsentimental, matter-of-fact. Acts of honor. For, when a proud gentleman had disgraced himself beyond recovery at the tables, self-slaughter was viewed as the only way to answer the disgrace he had brought down on himself.

  “But still, I refused to give up hope,” Alec said. “The loan’s rate of interest was outrageous, but I was absolutely certain that my luck must turn around sometime. Well, once I had the money from Dunmire, I paid down a few of my debts and got rid of the bailiffs, but by the time the first payment on the loan came due . . .” He shook his head. “I couldn’t pay.”

  “Oh, no,” she said softly, wincing as she held his gaze.

  “Dunmire wasted no time in sending his thugs out after me. They pounced on me one night when I was on my way home from a party, foxed and alone. I did my best to ward them off, but I was in no condition. . . . If I had been sober, I’m sure I could have taken them on, but, well, to be perfectly frank, I was bloody drunk. They got the best of me. Slammed my damned head against the ground until I saw double, and then one of them jumped on the lower part of my leg and broke it—as a warning.”

  “Oh, sweetheart.” She got up and crossed the gap between them, sitting on the side of his bed. She searched his face in astonished concern.

  He sat up against the headboard, shirtless, one knee bent. “I wish I could tell you that I held my ground boldly, but that wasn’t exactly the case.” His lips twisted as he met her questioning gaze. “Having barely managed to limp away from them with my life, and quite defenseless after the condition in which they had left me, I hid at Knight House—at least, for a few weeks, while I was mending. I didn’t even tell my family what was really going on. I told them it had happened during a drunken wager with my friends. They believed me and, considering my injuries, they called for a doctor and took me in.” He took her hand, lowering his gaze. “It didn’t take long for Dunmire’s thugs to find me. I was sitting on the terrace one evening playing chess with Miss Carlisle when they came up to the fence and told me I couldn’t hide in there forever, and that when I came out again, I was a dead man. By that time, of course, I had missed several more payments.”

  She petted his shoulder in pained sympathy.

  “Unfortunately, Lizzie had heard the whole thing. You remember, I told you about her—lady’s companion to my sister.”

  Becky nodded.

  “I had been hiding it from everyone, but she was right there, so of course, she found out. She questioned me about it, and she had been so kind to me, looking after me while I was on crutches, that I just couldn’t lie to her. I finally broke down and told her the truth, but I made her swear not to tell the others. Do you know what she did for me?”

  She shook her head.

  Alec was pale, the fine planes and chiseled angles of his face taut with sorrow. “She took out her dowry that her father had left her and—she gave it to me to pay back Dunmire.”

  Becky rested her hand on his forearm. She couldn’t help feeling a tiny bit threatened by his past bond with Miss Carlisle—or Lady Strathmore, since her marriage, as Alec had also told her. She wished she could have known Alec all her life, as Lizzie had. On the other hand, she was grateful that he had had a friend like Lizzie when he needed one most. “She must have loved you very much,” she said wistfully.

  “Almost as much as I despised myself,” he answered in a low tone. He paused. “The truth is she never really knew me. Not like you do. She was in love with an image of me that she had made up in her own head. She finally came to understand that, because what she later found with Dev was real by comparison. In any case, her generosity that day thoroughly humbled me. Lizzie comes from modest origins, you see—the money she was offering me represented her entire future. At first I took it. Because she insisted. And because my back was to the wall—I thought I had no choice. But on the way to Dunmire’s office, I realized I couldn’t possibly go through with it. I couldn’t have lived with myself. Instead . . .” His voice dropped to a pained whisper. “I told the driver to take me to Lady Campion’s house.”

  Becky studied him apprehensively. He touched her arm for a moment, took a deep breath, and then visibly forced himself to continue. “Eva . . . is a widow with a fortune of her own. She can do what she likes, when she likes. With whom she likes. She had been trying to lure me into her bed for years, but I never . . . I had heard things about her. The sort of things she likes. I never . . . We made a bargain.”

  “I see.” The short, whispered words rushed from her on an exhalation, as though someone had punched her in the stomach, or perhaps stuck a dagger in her heart. She dropped her gaze. Outwardly she sat very still, but inwardly she was reeling, for she grasped what Alec was about to tell her before he actually said it.

  He swallowed hard, a trifle pale; but with a look of stony resolve, he forced himself to be done with it, and Becky closed her eyes as he said the words. “Eva paid off Dunmire in exchange for my services in her bed.”

  She sat very still, one arm hugged tightly across her waist. She was appalled, indeed, shaken to the core.

  “Our liaison went on for over a year. She refused to pay Dunmire off all at once because she so enjoyed the power she had acquired over me. She flaunted it in front of all the world; she enjoyed testing how far she could push me.”

  “How could your family let you do this?” Becky uttered, trembling.

  “They did not know how serious my situation was, and I was unwilling to involve them further in circumstances that had been brought on purely by my own folly. I could not bear for their opinion of me to sink any lower.” He swallowed hard. “I was merely relieved not to be in prison, and Dunmire was satisfied. As for Society, some were scandalized—I lost a portion of my invitations around Town—but in general the ton allowed me to carry it off as naught but a lark, a rakish prank. I brazened it out as a sort of jest, all the while knowing poor loyal Lizzie had been crushed. She viewed what I had done as a pure betrayal. My ‘jest’ had all but destroyed her, at least until Dev came along.”

  “Oh, Alec.”

  “Do you know what the worst thing is that I did, though?”

  She glanced at him in alarm, her face pale. It gets worse?

  “When I saw Dev and Lizzie falling in love, I tried to win her back. I tried to take that away from her, too—unthinkingly, selfishly.” He paused. “I even asked her to marry me.”

  Becky flinched with mingled jealousy and pain at all these bewildering revelations. “You really loved her?”

  He was silent for a long moment. “I did not feel for her what I feel for you. Lizzie is a sweet girl who will always be dear to me, but in my selfishness, my main reason for proposing was abject fear that if she chose Dev, there would be no one left in the world who could ever love me. But then I met you. And it occurred to me that maybe it’s not getting but giving that’s the answer.”

  Becky met his stare with a pang of guarded tenderness. Blue shadows from the moonlight sculpted his face as he searched her eyes. “When I saw you that first night and mistook you for a whore, I felt . . . drawn to you. I felt that I could help someone like you and that . . . you wouldn’t judge me. That you’d understand what it was like. I didn’t know you were innocent. Becky, God’s truth, I’d forgotten what innocence was.”

  She flinched at the pain underlying his whisper and dropped her gaze.

  “Being with you, I’ve had the chance to give to another person as I’ve never done before, and no matter what you might have to say about all that I’ve told you, I’ll always be grateful to you for letting me help, and trusting me to take care of you. It’s meant more to me than you know. You’ve given me the chance to feel pride again in who I am.” He looked away. “In any case, I was honestly going to tell you all of this once our business with Kurkov was
done. I didn’t want to shake your faith in me: It would only leave you frightened about my ability to save you. And . . . I was frightened, too. That I would lose you.” He eyed her askance with great caution. “Have I?”

  Becky wanted to weep.

  She stared at him for a second and then lowered her head, laying her hands on her lap. She struggled to know what to say. Her emotions were in chaos. Anger at the situation. Hurt and shock.

  Alec waited, his soul naked before her—utterly vulnerable.

  She shut her eyes, wanting to withdraw, to nurse her own bruised emotions after what he had told her; but she was the one who had insisted on hearing all this, and now that he had willingly exposed his throat, she knew that if she cut him, he would never trust her again.

  Nor should he.

  She saw she had a choice. Either she could vent her anger and ensure he’d never open up to her again or rise above it, move past it somehow to be there for him in this moment when he needed her most. She took a deep breath and let it out, and then she looked at him. Her gaze trailed over to his finely chiseled face, wary of that potent male beauty he had used to survive.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, stark grief in his blue eyes. “You don’t have to marry me if you don’t want to anymore. I’ll understand.”

  She flinched, her fears whispering to her to flee while she still had the chance. A woman would have to be mad to risk joining her life to a man who could do such rash, intemperate things. But in the silence, as she struggled with herself, Becky chose not to listen to her fears. It was emptiness that had driven Alec to do those things, not a true reflection of who he really was. Emptiness that she could heal. No, hurting him now would be worse than anything Alec had done.

  Her decision to reach out to him was made.

  Lifting his tense hand from where it rested on the bed, Becky bent her head, closed her eyes, and slowly kissed it. She heard his unsteady inhalation as her tears fell upon his hand. She kissed his big thick knuckles again and again, soothingly, every moment strengthening her will and her resolve to reach deep within herself to show him love.

  The love he had never known.

  “Oh, my darling,” she whispered, lifting her sorrowful gaze to his once more, “you did the best you could do at the time.”

  He breathed her name.

  Holding his stare through a blur of tears, she saw he looked astounded by her reaction. She put his hand against her cheek and pressed another kiss into his palm. “I don’t care about the past, Alec,” she whispered in fierce loyalty. “I want you to forgive yourself for this.”

  He swallowed hard and shook his head. “I cannot possibly, unless you forgive me, too.”

  “It’s not my place to bestow forgiveness or withhold it. You did not wrong me. You didn’t even know me then.”

  He gazed at her as though he could not believe this was happening.

  “Look at the choice you made under those terrible circumstances. You sacrificed yourself and your pride rather than take advantage of Miss Carlisle. You really care about people, Alec. That’s part of what makes you so beautiful.”

  He took back his hand from her light hold and glanced away, looking shaken. “I don’t understand.”

  She cast about for a means to explain. “Has Miss Carlisle forgiven you?”

  “Yes. She’s happy now with Dev,” he said guardedly.

  “Has your family forgiven you?”

  “Of course they have. They—” He stopped suddenly, as though hearing his own words for the first time, realizing it. “They . . . love me.”

  She gave him a tremulous smile through her tears and nodded. “You see?” she whispered. “You’ve put everything to right as best you can, so why should you continue to punish yourself?”

  He had no answer.

  “Do you remember when we were under the awning that first night—when I threatened to brain you with the candlesnuffer? Remember? You thought I was a—a prostitute.”

  His faint smile at the reminder of her makeshift weapon faded at the term; almost with a flinch, he nodded.

  “What if I had been?” she asked candidly. “Think back to that night, my darling. How kind you were, the compassion you showed me. The dignity and gentleness with which you treated me. Though you thought me a mere harlot, you ordered the best dinner in the city for me. You opened your home to me. You didn’t have to do any of that. Your friends certainly wouldn’t have bothered. Why would you go to such lengths for a mere street girl?”

  “Because . . . I knew that whatever had befallen you, that you were a good person and wouldn’t have chosen that life unless there was no other way.”

  She nodded slowly.

  He absorbed this and lowered his head.

  “But your kindness to me didn’t stop there, Alec. Such pains you took to soothe my fears and make me smile, remember? And then . . .” She took his hand once more and held it between both of hers. “You made love to me so tenderly.” She petted his hand, remembering that night all over again.

  From beneath his forelock, he sent her a swift glance full of anguished heat.

  “You were not just a man taking a woman home that night to have his way with her,” she murmured. “You were a Good Samaritan to me—and the next day, you proved to be my knight in shining armor, as well. You saved my life. You offered to marry me when you realized my innocence—even though I had deceived you. You may never have gotten to ride with Wellington’s cavalry, Alec, but to me, you are the stuff heroes are made of.”

  “Me?” he whispered.

  “Yes,” she answered, wanting to take him into her arms, but she waited, for there was much more to say, so much to make him understand. “You claim you’re some sort of selfish scoundrel, but that’s not what I see.” Her own feelings for him, though lately tangled, emerged ever more clearly as she talked it out. “You have continually risked yourself for me . . . in profound ways. Fighting the blasted Cossacks, for goodness sake. The armies of Europe are afraid of them! Bringing me here in spite of possibly angering your family—I know how much they mean to you. Making sure that I was safe and fed and even clothed.” She stroked each one of his fingers, tracing them lightly, her gaze following her hand. “Gambling night after night to help me get my home back and save my village, despite the fact that this gambling is the very enemy that was so deadly to you in the past. All the while, you’ve asked nothing of me in return—except to trust you.” She lifted her head and looked straight at him. “Is that not the very soul of chivalry? Don’t you think a man like that deserves to be forgiven?”

  He was staring at the far wall with his mouth pursed in a taut line, but when he looked at her with overwhelming emotion churning in his eyes, Becky moved into his embrace.

  They held each other tightly. Her silver-tongued lover couldn’t even speak. He wrapped her in his arms and clung to her as though the hour of redemption were at hand.

  Alec closed his eyes, burying his face in her long tresses. “Oh, God, whatever I’ve done for you, it’s nothing compared to what I would do,” he choked out barely audibly. “Becky—I would die for you.”

  She stroked his golden hair, shaking her head. “No. Don’t even say that. I need you alive, and I want you to be happy, Alec, at peace with yourself, not tearing yourself apart for a past you cannot change, and certainly not afraid of losing my love. It would take someone a great deal mightier than Lady Campion to destroy what we have.” She lifted her head from his shoulder and looked into his eyes, cupping his face tenderly. “You’re a good man, and I love you.”

  Stunned silence filled the room at her simple statement.

  Beyond the window, the ocean soughed.

  Alec, staring at her, looked as dazed by her words as a man who’d been thrown from a horse. “You love me?” The question slipped out softly. His big blue eyes looked so lonely and wistful that they brought fresh tears to her own.

  She cupped his cheek. “More than words could say, my darling.”

  He stared int
o her eyes, clearly struggling for a response.

  With a fond smile through her tears, she shook her head. “It’s all right, my sweet,” she said, ruefully, lowering her hand from his face. “You don’t have to say it back until you’re ready.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “No. You have nothing to be sorry for.” She pushed his hair out of his eyes. “You’ve been through a lot where love’s concerned. All I ask is that you let me continue to say it. Can you live with that?”

  He searched her face with a faint uncertain glimmer of a smile. The man was plainly mystified. “A—all right.”

  “Good. Do you want to hear it again?”

  “I’m . . . not sure.”

  “Let’s try and see what happens.” She leaned closer and kissed his brow. “I love you, sweetheart.” She trailed soft fluttering kisses across his forehead, his eyelids, his nose. “I love you, Alexander Knight.”

  When she stopped, his breath quickening, he dragged his eyes open slowly and stared into hers. “Show me,” he whispered in the darkness.

  “How?”

  His gaze dropped to her lips. “Make love to me.”

  Becky raised an eyebrow.

  Alec licked his lips and waited intensely to see what she would do, that edge of challenge, that you-can’t-reach-me look threatening to darken the depths of his eyes once again.

  She smiled.

  He was insatiable, but her stare was tender as she moved astride his lap without argument. His wounds would heal in time. If for now his fear required proof of her love before he could believe, she would give it. If his emptiness demanded her surrender in order to be filled, then she would yield. Her core was still damp from their exertions in the drawing room. With glittering eyes and trembling hands, Alec freed his thick straining phallus once more and lifted her chemise as she straddled him, entering her slowly.

  She quivered at his warm hands clamped atop her thighs, pulling her down onto his rigid shaft. As before, her willing submission ignited something wild in him, just as his passion set her soul on fire.