Always My Viscount (Ever Beloved Book 2)

by Dawn Brower

  “You’re not far from France,” the man said congenially. “We have the best fashion. Perhaps if you travel to Paris you can see one of our modistes and replace your trousseau. It’s the least your husband could offer.”

  “You think he would?” Estella batted her eyelashes in a coquettish manner. “Considering what I’ve been through—I think you’re right. He should purchase a whole new wardrobe for me.”

  If she had truly married Donovan he’d have gladly given her anything she wanted. At least, he would have if she’d said yes years ago. He’d loved her a great deal once. She wasn’t so sure he could ever feel that way about her again. She wanted to help him and maybe rekindle that passion once again. He’d wanted her once. If she was careful enough, and maybe kind to him, he’d see her in the same way again. Otherwise, what had been the point of all of this? She’d done everything she could to survive with one goal in mind. To live her life as she deemed fit and to find Donovan again. It was happening a little sooner than planned, but she wasn’t going to complain. She had missed him terribly.

  “Any husband worth his salt would; besides, it was his fault,” the captain replied. “You’re not a merchant ship then?”

  “Oh, no,” Estella assured him. “At least not now. I’m not sure what he does with this ship normally.”

  The men exchanged a look—that couldn’t be good. “Perhaps we could have a word with him.”

  Drat. She’d hoped he wouldn’t want to do that. She had overplayed her hand. They would want to meet with Donovan. Would it be too much to hope he was too drunk or still passed out? The men were probably done bathing him. Maybe they’d leave if she played dumb enough.

  “I don’t know...” She glanced at Leeland. He had remained silent through the entire exchange, and it didn’t appear he’d jump in to aid her now. “Last I saw him, he was rather dreary looking. Some of the men were going to bathe him because he was quite repulsive. I’d hate to make him feel even more uncomfortable.”

  That was the truth at least. He looked terrible and smelled rather disgusting too. He’d hate her even more if she forced the French captain on him. How would she explain their fake marriage? What if he was awake and denied the entire thing? How would she wiggle her way out of it then?

  “It won’t take long. I promise.”

  Hell... He wasn’t going to let it drop no matter what she said. Perhaps he didn’t believe there was a viscount on board the ship. Well, the joke was on him. There most definitely was a viscount, and he would be rather arrogantly dismissive—at least, if he was awake and sober. Donovan did uppity nobility better than anyone she knew when it was warranted.

  “Very well,” she said. “But only you. I don’t want to crowd him in the cabin. He is seriously ill.”

  “As you wish, my lady,” he agreed. “Please lead the way.”

  Estella headed to the captain’s quarters. They were on the top level of the ship, and she wouldn’t have to walk him anywhere near their precious cargo. She reached the cabin and found her cabin boy walking out. He froze at the sight of the French captain and turned toward her silently for direction.

  “Billy, is the viscount presentable?”

  “Aye,” he said with a quick nod of his head. “He’s all washed and tied in place as ye instructed.”

  “Tied?” The captain raised a brow. “Whatever for?”

  “He’s been thrashing rather restlessly. The last time he fell off the bed and hit his head terribly bad. I’m afraid he’ll injure himself more if we don’t take drastic steps. I do hope it’s temporary.” That was the truth. She had to trust him to let him roam free. She wouldn’t know if that was possible until she spoke to a sober Donovan.

  “Is he awake?”

  “He wasn’t when I left,” Billy said. “Might be now.” He shrugged his shoulders.

  Please let him still be asleep. She opened the door and slowly entered the cabin. Sunlight streamed through an open window and bathed over him. His golden locks were falling down his face, some dried while others remained damp. He no longer reeked, and she was grateful for that. His upper half was bare, but his lower half was covered with a bed sheet. His eyes flew open and met her gaze. His lips tilted upward into a sinful smile. “Estella, dear. Please join me.”

  Heat filled her cheeks. She’d never seen him without—clothes. She blew out a breath and walked over to the bed praying he played along. Somehow, she would pay for this and hoped she could forfeit the cost. She feared it would be monumental whatever it ended up being...

  CHAPTER THREE

  Donovan leaned back against the pillows on the bed. It wasn’t as if he had much choice in the matter. They had him trussed up good like a lamb awaiting the slaughter. He’d woken up a few moments before Estella and the Frenchman had walked in. The whole scenario would have been entertaining if it wasn’t frustrating as hell. His head ached something fierce and his stomach wouldn’t be able to tolerate much, but those were minor details. Something wicked was brewing and he didn’t want to be the main course. He hadn’t been fully prepared to face Estella again. She’d broken his heart and essentially ruined him in the process. He should hate her, and maybe a part of him did.

  At first, he hadn’t believed her. She loved him, he’d been sure of it, and he’d searched everywhere for her, but she’d disappeared. Either she had meant what she’d said, or she’d lied for some unknown reason. The one thing he’d known with a certainty was he’d lost her. His heart had broken all over again with that realization. He couldn’t even fight for her because she wasn’t around to win. Why bother if he had nothing left. So he’d done what any reasonable man in his position would do—found comfort in a bottle, or several, of fine brandy. After a while, it didn’t even have to be good for him to drink it. The brandy had numbed the pain, and that was all that mattered.

  When she’d entered, her cheeks turned a pretty pink at the sight of him. Donovan could appreciate a good blush on a beautiful woman, and Estella’s reddened cheeks brought out the cherry accents to her brown hair. Perhaps that meant she was still very much an innocent. She’d clearly taken to sailing with gusto, but that didn’t mean she’d seen much of a man’s body.

  Perhaps she’d seen a man’s naked upper torso working on a ship? Didn’t they strip down at times while they worked? He’d have to ask her about it later. She might have blushed that pretty pink because of him. It could be she’d been embarrassed at their circumstances, or even that she still found him desirable. That latter was something he could get behind and use to his advantage—and he would at the first opportunity.

  “Who have you brought to gawk at me?” He didn’t like how the Frenchman stared at him. What was the man hoping to find? If he was the buggering sort, he’d not find a willing victim. Did Estella actually hate him? No, that wasn’t the woman he’d known. That girl was kind and wouldn’t hurt anyone willingly. There was a perfectly good explanation for this. When they were alone he’d find a way for her to spill the details from her lovely lips. She owed him at that much. “Not much entertainment these days? Does everyone have to come view the invalid?”

  “This is Captain Gerard,” she said demurely. Estella didn’t meet his gaze, and that made him even more curious. “His ship hailed us. He wished to see how you were faring when I explained how sick you’ve been.”

  He met her gaze and lifted a brow. “I’ve had better days.” He yanked on the ropes. How had she explained this to the French captain? What reason would she have had to tie him to her bed? He had no doubt it was her bed too. She was this ship’s Captain Estes, and the finest cabin went to the leader. He couldn’t wait to hear what her justifications were.

  “Pardon the intrusion, my lord,” the captain apologized. “Sea sickness can be rather bothersome. Your pale skin tells me you’ve been battling from the start as your lady mentioned.”

  “He seems much improved,” Estella said eagerly. “You should have seen him earlier.” She bobbed her head like a simpleton. Was that what she had pla
nned. To seem like a empty-headed lady of the ton? Estella was far from stupid, and the Frenchman had no idea of how far her treachery went.

  Donovan held back a laugh—it was all ridiculous. “As I said.” He glared at them. No doubt he’d been a sight when they’d found him stowed away in the cargo hold. He still didn’t understand how he’d come to be on the ship and hoped his memory would return. Either way, he found it rather fortuitous. His blunder had brought him back to Estella, and as soon as he was free, there would be a reckoning.

  He might have stayed drunk as often as possible over the past few years, but one thing had remained constant: his need to find her. Some days he’d hated her and other’s he lamented his stupidity for falling in love with someone incapable of returning it. Over time, he directed all that back at himself. His predicament wasn’t Estella’s fault and never had been. She didn’t owe him anything. He’d like to understand her reasons and would demand it in due time. “Not my best day. I long for land and the freedom to move unencumbered.”

  That alone was an understatement. He couldn’t be sure why Estella had him tied to the bed. His wicked mind roused up a few reasons, but he doubted she had the same thing in mind. He’d prefer the ability to touch her while he loved her anyway. He wasn’t against the ties, but at a later date, when they were more comfortable with each other. It was laughable that he assumed they’d have the chance to become lovers. She might not want that from him—ever, yet the besotted fool he was continued to hope.

  “I’ll leave you to your rest,” he said. “It was my wish to check in on you. Your wife was good to let us even though you’re clearly very ill.” The captain tipped his hat. “Good day, my lord.” He turned on his heels and exited. Estella was about to follow behind him.

  “Wife?” Was he still drunk? Either he’d drank far more than he ever realized, or he was in some sober hallucination. He’d never married Estella—God, he’d wanted too... She ran from him and never looked back. Donovan lifted his gaze to meet hers. She’d stopped and glanced over her shoulder, vigorously shaking her head. Ah, apparently she had motives for claiming they were wed and wanted him to remain silent. Well, that silence would cost her. “Please come back after you see the captain safely to his own ship.”

  “Of course.” She bowed her head respectfully. He didn’t doubt that wouldn’t be the case when she returned. This was all for show. “I’ll be but a moment.” Then she strolled out of the room to leave him to his own thoughts.

  Donovan closed his eyes and remembered the last time he’d held Estella in his arms. She’d been so beautiful that night. Her blue eyes were vivid in his memory and now that he could look back with clarity—they’d held an edge of sadness. That misery still lingered in them, but wasn’t at the forefront. She had a lot of other emotions pouring from her. Rage, anxiety, uncertainty—she was a mixture of everything. He couldn’t be sure which emotions ruled her and what he could use to reach her. He’d try everything without any misgivings.

  The door banged open with the sound echoing through the room. His eyelids fluttered open and he met her gaze once more. Those blue eyes sucked him in and held him riveted. She had many features he loved, but her kind heart had been the one he’d loved most. Did she want to help the world as she had before? Would she take pity on his weary soul? Donovan couldn’t be sure who she’d turned into over the years. If he’d known then what he did now, he’d still have fallen in love with her. It might have made him spiral out of control, but it also fueled a fire in him that refused to die. Love comes once in a while and he wasn’t going to regret the one woman who’d inspired his heart to sing.

  “Thank you,” she said. “You didn’t have to go along with that.”

  “It was nothing,” he replied nonchalantly—even though it had been anything but. Sure, it was easy enough to go along with her plan, but even innocent gestures had consequences. He, more than anyone, had learned that lesson well. He’d given her his heart and trusted her implicitly only for her to destroy that fledgling love. Going along with her lie had not taken anything from him, but she’d figure out that even nothing could cost a great deal. They were at the beginning of the game, and he fully intended to win. “Do you want to explain what that was all about?”

  She held her hands behind her back and stood straight. Her silence filled the room and hung there like a weight crushing him. He hated that she wouldn’t confide in him—never really had. It spoke of a lack of trust, and he’d once believed she would come to him for anything. What a fool he’d been. A fool for her... She couldn’t even explain why she’d refused his proposal. He didn’t believe she didn’t love him. There was something else there that she held back, and he’d hoped one day she’d confide in him. That day never came.

  “I don’t suppose you’re going to are you.” Disappointment filled him. Nothing had changed and probably never would. It seemed like he’d always be an idiot for her. She continued to use him, and he insisted on making excuses for her. Had he ever really known her?

  “It’s complicated,” she said. “I’m not sure where to start.”

  “The beginning usually helps.” Sarcasm infused with his voice as he spoke. He couldn’t stop it from spilling out of him. “Maybe we should go back a little farther than a few moments ago. I suspect there is one hell of a story you’re failing to tell me.”

  “It goes back farther than that,” she replied quietly. “There is much I didn’t tell you.”

  He’d been afraid of that. Was she going to finally explain everything? Some scars didn’t go away, and her dismissal of their love hadn’t had a chance to even become one. It had festered and reopened time and time again. Now it was an open, aching wound that might do him in once and for all depending on her. He was so weak where she was concerned. “Then start there,” he supplied. “It’s past time, don’t you think?”

  She nodded. “In time, I’ll tell you everything. I’m not sure this is the right moment.”

  She was evading him once again. He shouldn’t be surprised, but he was. He hadn’t asked her to dig into her soul and unburden herself. He wanted to understand her in a way he never had before. He wanted the truth. That truth must lie in her past, and perhaps it was painful for her to speak of. Still, he wanted something from her even if it was a small thing. It would give him hope where he was fast losing it. “What can you tell me,” he asked finally.

  She pulled a chair out from a nearby desk and carried it over to the side of the bed and sat. As she leaned back against it and studied him. Her gaze didn’t linger over his body, but kept steadily on his face. What did she expect to see there? He’d given up on life and left the running of his estate to his overseer. So far, that hadn’t been a mistake. The estate was prospering under his care and kept Donovan in brandy for his drunken exploits.

  “Why are you doing it?” she asked softly.

  “Doing what?” he retorted. He had a feeling he knew exactly what she asked, but refused to answer. She wouldn’t tell him her secrets, so why should he unburden his heart?

  “You were more than drunk.” She tapped her fingers together. “You were falling apart around yourself. The man I knew...”

  “The man you knew had no reason to go on. He left when you did.” The words were out before he could stop them. His heart raced inside his chest. “You have no right to judge who he became.”

  “You’re right,” she said. “But I had hoped to make amends. Is that even possible?”

  It might be, but he wasn’t sure. He had a lot of ideas running through his head. Some of them ended with them living happily-ever-after and building a family together. He wanted that so much he ached for it. Donovan couldn’t say those things to her, at least not yet. He wasn’t sure if he could lay his heart out before her again and trust she wouldn’t break what remained of it. A man could only take so much pain before he gave up completely. He’d already been on the brink of that very thing before she came back into his life again. “I don’t know,” he told her. “Trust is
a hard thing to give once it’s lost.”

  She nodded solemnly. “I understand, but I’d like to at least try.”

  Donovan wanted to give in and let her. He wanted it so bad that he could almost taste it, like honey melting on his tongue. He didn’t think he could do it. She continued to show him with her actions that she was incapable of being the woman he needed. He had to stop this cycle of bad behavior. It was time to live again and forget her. It might prove impossible, but if he learned one thing upon seeing her again—she was toxic to him. He had already started to see a future with her again, and she’d not given him any indication she wanted that. She’d tied him to the bed! That spoke volumes about her level of trust.

  “Why don’t you give me something that will make me believe you’re in earnest.”

  “What?” she asked hopefully.

  “Untie me for starters,” he said. “And then tell me when we were married because I don’t think I was awake for that, and I’d sorely like to remember it. Especially since you were once so adamantly against tying yourself to me.”

  There, that should give her something to chew on. He doubted she’d do any of it, but he hoped. Oh, how he hoped...

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Estella should tell him everything. It would make things so much easier if she did, but in this—with him—she was a coward. She didn’t want him to look at her with hatred. At the moment, he almost seemed congenial with her, as if he still cared somehow. She wanted to believe he did, at least for a little while longer. She’d made so many mistakes; what was one more? She missed the lighthearted Donovan she’d fallen for. This man had a dark side she didn’t recognize and fully blamed herself for its existence.