by Jade Lee
“It wasn’t like that,” she said, though she pressed her lips to his chest in gratitude. “Most everyone there worked. Everyone my age was apprenticed to some trade. Only my brother and I weren’t.”
“And what was Damon’s trade?”
She swallowed. “I didn’t realize it at the time, but he worked the brothels and was already expanding his knowledge into the gambling hells.”
He stiffened. “The devil you say!”
“You don’t think that children apprentice there like in any other business? Of course, they do, my lord. That meant he worked nights and had plenty of time to see me during the day.”
His hand curled into her hair, stroking the strands. The motion was steady, calming, and it made her close her eyes to appreciate the feel. She loved the way he touched her. It wasn’t always about getting her in bed. Things like this felt as if he simply liked holding her, with no thought beyond that. It felt comfortable and safe.
“Did he seduce you?” he asked, his voice rough.
“Not the way you think. Damon was a passionate man, angry about the hypocrisy of the upper class, as he called it.”
She could feel the surprise in him. “He was politicking?”
“Damon was opinionated and smart. You could call it politicking. Or you could simply say he was an angry man, jealous of those who had what he did not.”
He tightened his hold then pressed a kiss to her forehead. “He wanted to have you.”
“He almost succeeded.” She shrugged, though the movement was stiff. “Everything about my life was restricted, every thought and action controlled. A lady, according to my mother, never got angry, never raised her voice, never acted from emotion.”
“And Damon was everything that was loud and passionate.”
“I was fascinated from the first time I saw him. Such life in him. Such fire.”
“Flash,” he said.
“Flash,” she concurred. “And anger. But I didn’t know that then. Not until the day his brother and mine were set to ship out. There was a party, you see, not approved by my mother.”
“But you went anyway.”
She smiled at the memory. “The first part of the evening was so much fun. We were at a local pub, laughing and dancing. I wasn’t supposed to be there, but my brother was leaving. I wouldn’t miss his party for the world. Until things got too lively, and he told me to leave.”
“And did Damon offer to walk you home?”
“He was ever the gallant.” She fell silent remembering that walk. Damon could be charm itself. He knew how to treat a woman, knew how to speak softly and how to stoke a fire when necessary. “But he was different that night. Volatile.”
“Perhaps because his brother was spending the evening with your brother and not with him. He sounds the type to imagine slights even when there are none. And if he was not the focus of the party—”
“Ethan was celebrating my brother’s entrance into the navy. It was Radley’s celebration.”
“Then Damon would want to take revenge—if not on your brother, then on you.”
She wondered if that had been it. Had it all been simple jealousy? Her whole life ruined because her brother had a party?
“He wanted to show me something special. Something that would make him the wealthiest man alive. Something he had been working on for months.” She swallowed. She’d been so naïve. “I had no wish to go home, no desire for the evening to end, so I went with him.”
“Where?”
“A room in a house somewhere. In the back way, up the stairs, and to a chamber fitted with chains.”
A hiss escaped his lips. “He meant to make you his prisoner?”
She shook her head. “I don’t think so. I think he believed that I would tumble into his arms. But even wild as I was, I knew better than to go into a strange house. He’d had to cajole me just to walk down the street. He kept saying it would take only a moment. No one would know. I followed because I was afraid to be alone on those streets.”
He released a low growl, deep in his belly. “I will kill him. You were doomed the moment your brother didn’t walk you home himself.”
Perhaps that was true, and perhaps not. After all, she’d been sneaking out after dark for a year or more. But Damon, of course, had led her to an area where she’d never been. Not during the day and certainly not after dark.
“I didn’t fight until he took me to the back door. He ended up carrying me inside. And then once in the room, he manacled me while I was still screaming.”
She felt the tension in Gregory then, the tightness in his chest, the clench of his fist in the blanket. “How did you stop him? You stayed a virgin, Caroline. How did you keep him off you?”
“I didn’t. He kissed me, he…” She shuddered at the memory. “He touched me, but I was sobbing and screaming. I don’t think he expected me to be so violently opposed. All the girls adored him, you see. He was very handsome.”
“Of course, you refused him. You have taste.”
“I was as smitten as everyone else. He pushed too fast. If he had waited longer, been more careful, I don’t think I would have refused. I really don’t.”
“He does not sound like a patient man.”
Unlike Gregory. She stretched upward, and he looked down. Their kiss was excruciatingly tender. She would have deepened it, but he held back.
“How did you escape?”
He would hear it all then. “I didn’t. I…” She quieted a moment. She had spent a long time thinking of what exactly happened. She still couldn’t make sense of it. “I was screaming at him. I told him I despised him. That he could rape me, but I would never be his. That if I bore his child, even the babe would be mine, not his. No matter what he did, he would forever be an unloved monster.”
She felt Gregory take a deep breath. “You astound me, Caroline. To be so self-possessed at so young an age. In such a circumstance.”
“I wasn’t self-possessed,” she scoffed. “I was furious and terrified. I was lashing out the only way I knew how—with words. And…”
“And?” he prompted.
“Well, I spit at him too.”
“I am pleased to hear it,” he said with a chuckle, the sound low and tight. It released the tension between them.
“He stopped then. He just stared at me for the longest time. It was more terrifying than when he was… atop me. He just stopped. And then he climbed off.”
“Did he say nothing?”
“Not then. Only after he got the razor.”
“Bastard!”
“He said that I was his, and all the world would know it.” She rushed her next words, needing to get them out quickly. “He carved his initials in my chest. And he rubbed salt and poison into the wound so that it would scar. Then he just left.”
“He left you alone? Chained to a bed?”
She nodded, and she used the motion to wipe away her tears. “I lay there in agony for hours. In the end, my brother found me. When I hadn’t returned home that night, he had gone in search. He didn’t join the navy that day, nor ever. Instead, he searched for me, found me half dead in that house, then brought me home.”
“How much later? How long did you lie there?”
“More than a day. He might never have found me if one of the whores hadn’t told him. She was one of my mother’s students, you see, before she went to that life. She knew about the room, and as soon as she heard I was missing, she went to tell my mother,”
“But it was too late. Everyone knew what had happened to you.”
She nodded, then found the strength to finish the tale. “Radley stayed home to take care of us. Father grew ill soon after that. It was years before he passed, but I’m sure the strain of my infamy made it worse.”
“Oh Caroline, I’m so sorry.”
“It became clear that
I couldn’t stay. Radley remained at home to protect me. I was keeping him from his life as well as torturing myself.”
“Radley left?”
“My friend Wendy convinced him. She found me a job as a maid, then persuaded Radley she would look after me. She made him join a ship as he’d always wanted, but it wasn’t the navy. I worked as a maid for a year before apprenticing with the housekeeper. She trained me well and gave me an excellent reference. Then eventually, I found my way to your door.” She took a deep breath, surprised by how easy the movement was. Perhaps he had been right. Perhaps telling the tale had eased something she had held tight for much too long. “That is the whole tale. I have left nothing out.”
“Nothing except the name of the bastard.”
She blinked. “Damon Porter.”
“Do you know what became of him?”
She frowned, startled to realize that she did not. Once she’d left her home to work, she had not looked back, except to visit her parents when she could. And neither would mention Damon’s name. “I have no idea.”
“I do. He is now the owner of several gambling hells, not to mention brothels throughout the city.”
So Damon had done it. He had become rich and powerful, as he’d always said.
“I swear to you, Caroline, that I will see him hanged.”
She jolted upright, horror and fear surging through her. “No! You cannot!”
He gaped, and then his expression hardened. “After everything, you want to protect him?”
“Protect him?” Good God, the man was an idiot. “Even as a boy he was smart, charismatic, and ruthless. I am not surprised that he has become what you said.”
“Then—”
“Will killing him heal my scars? Will it bring my father back or change my life?”
His brows drew together. “You will have justice. Isn’t that what you want?”
She huffed out a breath. “My brother wanted justice. He beat Damon to a bloody mess, and he ended up in gaol for his troubles. And lost any hope of entering the navy with Ethan’s support.” She pressed her hand to his chest. “Justice brings me nothing and risks everything. What possible value can it have?”
He stiffened. “I am an earl—”
“And can you not still be hurt? Stabbed in the night? Have your peers turned against you?”
He stiffened. “I am not afraid of the likes of him.”
In her fury, she pinched his chest.
“Ow!”
“Do not be daft, my lord. No one is completely safe. And I would not risk one second of my time on the pursuit of him. Do you hear me? I do not care about Damon—his guilt or his punishment or any of it.” She sighed. “Can you not see that it is over? And has been for a very long time.”
He caught her hand, tightening his hold as he clearly struggled to understand. “You still protect yourself. You still fear.”
“I hide my scars because people only hire respectable housekeepers. Not because I think of Damon or the crime he committed against me. If you had not asked, I wouldn’t have thought of him at all.” It wasn’t a lie. But then again, it wasn’t the full truth either. She had thought about that night, about what she could have done differently. About what her life would be like if it had never happened.
None of those thoughts would change if Damon was punished for his crime.
“How can you be so accepting, Caroline? How can you let something so heinous pass?”
She leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his lips. “Because I am not the granddaughter of a duke—”
“You are!”
“Nor will I ever be acknowledged as such. Living in the hope of something takes away from my life now. Thinking of him only hurts me. And I will not give that power to him. He has hurt me enough.” She put her hand on his chest, tempted to pinch him again. “And I will not risk you for something that means nothing.”
He grabbed hold of her hand. “And if I choose to risk it? If I pursue him on your behalf?”
“Why would you do that?” She shook her head, then leaned forward to allow her hair to stroke his skin. She smiled as his flesh rippled in reaction. “Why would you spend another moment thinking of him when I am here? We are together this night. Why would you do that?”
“He is evil and must be stopped. What he does is a scourge on the city.”
She nearly rolled her eyes, but he touched her face, and she quieted to better feel what he did.
“And because he hurt you.”
“I am not hurt anymore,” she said, startled to realize she meant it. “I do not feel pain now, not when you can look at me and not see the scars.”
He blinked, and his lips twisted into a sardonic smile. “Oh, I see them all right. But I think they mean something different to me than they do to you.”
She pulled back. “What do you mean?”
He didn’t answer at first. Instead, he coaxed her to turn around. Then he unbuttoned her gown, easing it off her shoulders. A moment later, he helped her pull off her shift until she sat naked before him. And when she would have slid under the blanket to hide herself, he kept her still.
He lifted her chin and stroked his fingers across her scars. “DP.”
She swallowed. “Damon Porter.”
“Duncan Pyper.”
“What?”
He brought her hand to his lips. “I do not use the name often because it is not the English way. I go by my middle name and my title. But Duncan is my first name, as it is my father’s and my grandfather’s.”
She frowned. “Your surname is Murray.”
He nodded. “Yes, Duncan Gregory Murray of the Pyper clan.” His voice was suddenly thick with a Scottish brogue. But then he switched to his customary speech. “It is who I am in Scotland. And it is a name I am proud of.”
She stared, struggling to understand.
“When I first saw the scars, that is what I thought. Beyond the obvious horror, I thought, why does she have my family letters there?”
She laughed. “I cannot possibly have fallen in love with the one man who claims these letters as his own.”
“Well, I am not the only man, but perhaps I am the only one you love,” he said, his tone hopeful.
“You are,” she whispered. Then she kissed him with the full measure of her happiness.
He shifted away, settling her on the bed before he pulled something out of his pocket. “I want you to know that I planned to do this whether or not you talked about your past. I do not care about what happened, beyond how it affects you. I am grateful you told me, but if you hadn’t, I would still offer this.”
She didn’t know what he was doing, much less talking about, until he pulled out a jeweler’s box. And as she sat naked, he slid off the bed and onto one knee. And when he opened the box, a stunning green emerald ring lay on the white satin lining.
“Caroline Lyncott, will you do me the greatest honor of becoming my countess?”
She gasped. He could not mean it, the dear, dear man. Well, of course, he meant it, but she could not accept. Still, the sight of him beside her had her heart in her throat and her eyes welling with tears.
“I love you,” she whispered.
“And I love you. I noticed you first because of your beauty and your elegance. Even in the midst of a screaming argument between McTavish and Cook, you have always remained as poised as a queen. But it was in learning your spirit that I fell in love. You are a better person than I could ever hope to be. I want you by my side forever.”
He extended the ring, his eyes shining as they looked at her. She wiped the tears flowing down her cheeks, but she could not make herself take the ring. It was unfair.
“I am your housekeeper.”
“And I am a Scottish earl. What does it matter if we love one another?”
“But…” She shook her hea
d. “What if the truth were known? And it will come out. A story like mine cannot be hidden forever.”
“What if it does? Everyone thinks the Scots are daft anyway.” He grinned. “You must say yes, Caroline. I’ll not give you a child any other way.”
She arched her brows, assuming a mock air of superiority, if only to buy time. “You may have already done so, you know. Our first night…”
“In your room. Yes, I remember. I hoped you had not.”
She laughed. “As if I could forget.” Then she leaned forward to kiss him. “I will be your mistress for as long as you like. I will live where you wish, be at your beck and call, but—”
“You will do that and more, my love, but only as my wife.”
She bit her lip. He was serious. He truly wanted her.
“I love you, Caroline. How many times must I say it before you accept me?” Then he shifted his position. “This floor is dashed hard on my knee, you know.”
“One more time, Gregory. Just one—”
“I love you, my Caroline. Will you be my countess?”
“Yes.” The word was hard to push out at first. To agree to a marriage was to fully embrace life again. She could not be a simple observer at a menagerie while standing at Gregory’s side. Yet she felt too much for him to remain impassive. After the first yes, the rest became easy. “Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes—” A waterfall of yeses before he stopped them with his kiss.
Then it was more than a kiss. He stroked away her tears. He worshipped her scars, and he gave her such ecstasy that she could hardly breathe, much less think. In the end, she gave herself to the joy, to the happiness that she had being with the man she loved.
And if she ever doubted to whom she belonged, all she needed was to look in the mirror. His initials were there, along with the memory of a hundred kisses, a thousand murmured endearments, and eons of bliss as he joined them together. In body, in heart, and very soon, in the eyes of the law.
“I cannot believe this is happening,” she whispered as they lay entwined in exhausted bliss. “You shall not change your mind?”
“I could not get a special license today. I meant to, but the bishop I know was not in. Would you mind terribly waiting the normal three weeks to call the banns? It is better if our wedding does not appear so rushed an affair.”
