Betrayed by Your Kiss

by Laura Landon

  He slammed his fist against the top of the table. “Then he would have killed me! It would have been better than the world thinking I’d run because I was a coward!”

  He glared at her, his blue eyes glowering with resentment. “Have you discovered who fathered Cassandra’s babe?”

  Still stunned, she shook her head.

  “Did you even search for an answer? Or were you so convinced I was the guilty party you didn’t even bother looking?”

  “I knew you weren’t the father of her babe.”

  “Liar! You thought it from the minute Strathern accused me. I saw it on your face.”

  Olivia reached out to steady herself against one of the wooden chairs around the large table. He took a step toward her.

  “Well, it doesn’t matter any more, does it? Strathern is dead. He went to his grave believing I was responsible for his daughter’s death.”

  “You knew Strathern died?”

  “I knew.”

  Olivia felt as if another spike had been driven through her heart. Strathern died less than a year after Cassandra’s death—less than a year after Damien left. She pressed her fist to her stomach as if she might be ill. He’d known for more than three years that it was safe to come home.

  The room suddenly lost some of its brightness. Olivia wasn’t sure if the sun had gone beneath a cloud, or if the fury she felt obliterated it from her view.

  Damien pulled out one of the chairs at the opposite end of the table and sat, stretching his long, muscular legs out in front of him.

  “It was quite clever of your father to word his will the way he did, leaving us no choice but to marry in order to keep the ships.”

  She sucked in a deep breath. “Yes, quite clever. And yet not really so binding. We must marry only if we both intend to keep the ships.” Olivia turned and leveled him with a glare filled with all the bitterness that was tearing her apart. “A choice I’m not sure I’m prepared to make.”

  His dark brows arched in a menacing line. “Are you telling me you would consider giving everything up?”

  Olivia clutched her hands into the folds of her skirt and swallowed hard. Could she give up the estates, the land with the people she’d come to love over the years? And the ships? She’d loved the ships since she’d first stepped aboard the wooden deck of a mighty vessel as a little girl. She was never at such peace as when she was down at the docks or standing aboard one of her father’s ships with the deck rolling beneath her feet and the wind whipping through her hair. How could her father expect her to give up the ships? She couldn’t do it.

  The ships were her solace. The harbor was where she went to feel close to her father. To Damien. The ships were what she and Damien were going to build their life around. Their future. It was a passion they both shared. Why would her father give her an ultimatum that would take that away from her?

  Olivia turned her head and lifted her gaze to Damien’s. She thought she saw a smile cross his face. Thought for just a moment she spied a hint of humor. A hint of smugness, as if he knew what giving up the ships would cost her. And he enjoyed her misery.

  The Damien she’d loved and adored before was gone. And in his place there was a cruel and unforgiving stranger. A man she didn’t even like, let alone think she could ever love again.

  “Don’t be too rash, Olivia. Marriage to me can’t be all that bad, can it? You were prepared to do it before, and quite happy about it, if I remember correctly.”

  His words stung like nothing she could recall. “Why are you doing this?”

  He lifted his eyebrows in feigned confusion. “Doing what?”

  “Expecting us to marry. Demanding the ships.”

  “Because they’re mine.”

  His eyes turned cold as ice, his voice hard as stone. “I spent four years waiting for the day I could come back to get everything you took away from me. I thought of nothing else during those long, agonizing days except returning to claim what would have been mine if you had only stood at my side and not betrayed me.”

  Olivia staggered under the resentment she heard in his voice. For a long moment, she could do nothing but stare at him in disbelief. Did he really believe she’d cared so little for him? But when she looked into his eyes, she knew he did.

  She didn’t have the strength to face his anger. She turned her back on him and walked to the window. More people bustled past. More carriages rumbled down the street. Life went on as if nothing out of the ordinary could disturb it, while here in this room, her world was crumbling around her.

  She didn’t turn around to face him. She didn’t think she could bear to see the hard look in his eyes, the cold disdain on his face.

  “I only have to marry you if I want what my father intended I should have.”

  “And if you don’t marry me before the six week deadline is up, you lose not only the ships, but the chance to marry and have a home and family of your own.”

  His words were like the twisting of a knife once he had it embedded in her flesh. She slowly turned. “You are only partially right, my lord. I may lose my father’s ships if I don’t marry you, but you are not my only, nor my last, chance at a home and family.”

  His dark brows arched in a dangerous line. “Are you telling me there is someone else you intend to marry?”

  “What I am planning is hardly your concern.”

  “Oh, it is my concern, Olivia. A groom is always concerned when his bride informs him she has plans to marry someone else.”

  The air she needed to breathe lodged in her throat. “When I marry, my lord, you most certainly will not be the groom. You had that choice once before and lost it.”

  “I did not lose it. It was taken away from me.”

  “No! You could have come back to claim your right any time during the last four years and chose not to. Now it is too late. It will be a cold day in hell before I will consider taking your name again. A cold day in hell before I will ever be the fool I was once.”

  “If anyone was the fool, it was I! And you know nothing of my reasons for not returning!”

  Olivia took a step closer to him, her fury nearly consuming her. “I know you did not care for me enough to let me know you were alive. Now, it is too late for us! It was too late the minute you made the conscious decision to let me believe you were dead.”

  She saw the muscles in Damien’s jaw clench before he rose and moved toward her. For the first time, Olivia noted an unevenness in his gait. It wasn’t quite a limp, yet she could see it was an imperfection he’d become quite adept at concealing. He stopped when he was nearly upon her.

  He meant to intimidate her with his towering height and broad shoulders, but she stood up to him.

  “We will marry, Olivia. I will have the estates, and the ships, and you!”

  Olivia reached out to the nearest chair to steady herself. Her father and Captain Durham had been right when they’d told her Damien would never forgive her if she sent him away, but she thought the love she and Damien shared could weather any disaster that threatened them.

  What a fool she’d been.

  She pushed herself away from the chair she clung to and stepped around him as she made her way to the door. She had to get out of here. Had to get away from him.

  “We have six weeks until the deadline. I would begin making plans if I were you.”

  She hesitated for a fraction of a second, then threw open the door and left. For the first time since she’d put him aboard the Princess Anne, she wished she’d let him stay in England and take his chances with Strathern.

  Chapter 7

  Damien lifted the brandy to his mouth and finished the last few drops before setting the empty glass back on the table. From the moment he’d left Haywood’s office, he’d wanted nothing more than to find some remote corner and get roaring drunk. But he didn’t. He wouldn’t. Not until he had this
whole mess sorted out in his mind. Not until he was well on his way to getting his life back.

  Damien thought of Olivia’s boast not to marry him. She evidently had someone else in mind. Someone to whom she’d given her heart. Damien raked his fingers through his hair. The thought of her with another man made his blood boil. She was wrong if she thought he’d let her marry someone else. She was still his. Even if she didn’t want to be.

  He sprang from the chair in his cabin aboard the Angel’s Wings, then grasped the corner of the table when his left leg refused to support him. He muttered an oath more vile than those he usually said when his injuries limited him, but today seemed to warrant every curse he knew. Being near Olivia again after nearly four years of dreaming about her every single day had taken its toll on his emotions. He didn’t want to feel the same passion for her that he had when she’d betrayed him, but the woman he faced now wasn’t the girl she’d been four years ago. The Olivia of four years ago would never have stood up to him like she had today. The Olivia from before would never have slapped him.

  Damien paced the length of his cabin to stretch his legs, then sat back down in one of the two matching oversized leather chairs and rubbed his thighs. When the cramping of his muscles eased, he dropped his head back against the chair with a heavy sigh. Bloody hell, but she’d become a courageous beauty.

  Damien pictured the expression on her face when she’d first seen him. When she’d first realized he was alive. The color had drained from her face, turning her creamy, clear complexion a pale white against the rich mahogany of her hair.

  Oh, her hair. He knew beneath that trim, black velvet bonnet, her hair was pulled into a loose knot that, when released, would hang nearly to her waist. How many times he’d fantasized pulling the pins that held the thick, heavy lengths. How, in the months while he fought for his life, he’d envisioned twining his fingers through her hair as he held her to him, fanning it out around her as she lay beneath him.

  While his breathing went in and out in a rush, he experienced an uncomfortable heaviness he swore he would never again allow himself to feel. He relived seeing her oval face turn toward him in disbelief, her huge, brown eyes staring at him in confusion. Then her upper teeth clamped against her lush lower lip, and her daintily rounded chin trembled—until she recovered and her shock changed to outrage, then open fury.

  Well, now she knew what it felt like to be deceived by someone she loved. Now she knew what it meant to have her world pulled out from beneath her and be left to flounder in despair and confusion. And she’d know what it was to be helpless to control her future. He’d spent four years dreaming of this day and he would celebrate every second of it.

  Only he hadn’t bargained on the pangs of guilt and regret that accompanied the satisfaction.

  He brushed the uncomfortable emotions aside and listened for Durham, who he had sent out to be his legs, to gather information Damien couldn’t gather for himself. It was too soon for him to show his face. Too soon for his miraculous return from the dead to be the fast-spreading topic of conversation in every parlor in London. He had too much to do before he could battle the curiosity seekers and the busybodies who would vie for a glimpse at the recently resurrected Earl of Iversley.

  There was his title to restore and Damien looked forward to a confrontation with his cousin with immense anticipation. If half of what Haywood told him were true, Damien was going to take great pleasure in beating the usurper within an inch of his life before he sent him packing, before he made him suffer for the advantage he’d taken of Damien’s mother and her hospitality, before he made him account for every pound he’d lost gaming. But first he needed to know exactly what he was facing with Olivia. With his competition.

  Damien rose from his chair and paced the cabin again. How long did it take to have a few drinks and find out a little information? Damien listened, then heard footsteps. He focused his eyes on the door and breathed a sigh of relief when the captain walked in.

  Durham shook the rain from his slicker and tossed it and his hat over a hook on the wall. Then he walked to a table where three decanters sat in a deep tray. He poured liquor from one of the bottles into a glass and brought the decanter over to where Damien stood and offered to refill his glass, too.

  “Am I going to need this?”

  “Probably.”

  Damien waited for Durham to refill his glass, then cradled it in his hand. “What did you find out?”

  The captain sank down onto the other cushioned chair and stretched his long legs out in front of him. After he’d taken a hefty swallow, he looked at Damien. “Olivia’s name’s been linked to the Marquess of Rotham. As to how serious it is, you’ll have to ask someone more in the know than the blokes I bought drinks for all evening. I can only tell you the comment was made that the relationship was serious enough to cause speculation up and down the waterfront as to what might happen if there were a merger of two of the largest shipping fleets in London.”

  Damien felt a stab of anger fueled by a wave of something even stronger. He refused to admit it might be jealousy. Jealousy was an emotion that resulted from feelings of affection between two people. There was no affection left between Olivia and him. How could there be after what she’d done?

  Damien tightened his fingers around the glass in his hand, then forced himself to relax his grip. His calm was short-lived.

  “There’s more,” Durham said.

  Damien’s attention flashed to Durham’s face, and he looked at the frown that covered the captain’s forehead. “What?”

  “Olivia is in danger.”

  Every muscle in Damien’s body tensed. “Why?”

  “According to talk at the Anchor’s Down, Pellingsworth Shipping has been plagued by some mysterious incidents for quite some time.”

  “What sort of incidents?”

  “A couple months ago, the Andora Jane sailed with half a cargo. And the morning the Viking’s Lady was supposed to set sail, almost one-third of her crew failed to show. Then last week, the Conquest had to turn back when all the spare rigging was frayed. There have also been some shorted shipments and unexplained cancellations. And just this morning, the port authorities came to search the hold of the Daring.”

  “For what?”

  “They didn’t say.”

  “Did they find anything?”

  “No. But they’re suspicious now. They’re the bane of every captain that sails. Hard to tell when they’ll make their next surprise inspection. A little money under the table is usually the only way to keep them away.”

  “Did you know any of this was going on before now?”

  Durham shook his head. “She didn’t mention it once. Not even in the letter she sent asking me to come back for the reading of her father’s will. Every time I inquired, she assured me everything was fine.”

  Damien rubbed his aching thighs. “When did these plagues start?”

  “Evidently not long after her father died. Talk has it, though, they’re happening more often of late and the mishaps are getting more serious. There was even a fire aboard the Viking the night she pulled into port. It could have been worse, but the first mate forgot a silk shawl he’d brought back from China for his mother’s birthday and went back to get it. He saw smoke and raised the alarm before the fire did much damage.”

  Damien fought the familiar wave of panic at the mere mention of a fire and took another swallow of the brandy in his glass. “Does anyone have any idea who might be behind these accidents?”

  “There’s a lot of speculation, but nothing anyone can prove. It could be someone who doesn’t think a woman should be running a shipping business. There’s still more than a few superstitious old tars who think having a woman anywhere near a ship is bad luck.”

  “What do you think?”

  Durham took another swallow of his drink and sighed heavily. “I think it sounds like someon
e’s trying to discredit the lady. Or ruin her. Or scare her off so she’ll sell.”

  “Competition?”

  Durham shrugged his shoulders. “Possibly, but why now? Unless they think she’s an easy mark now that her father’s dead.”

  “Then it’s someone who doesn’t know her well, or they’d realize they picked the wrong person.”

  Damien walked to the other side of the cabin. His leg was more stiff than usual, although the brandy was helping the pain.

  “What are you going to do, lad?”

  “The only thing I can. Find out who’s behind this before Olivia gets hurt.”

  Durham set his glass down and rose to face Damien. “You’d be wise not to let anyone know you’re back. At least until your mother knows you’ve returned. That’s not news you want her hearing through the gossip mill.”

  “When are you scheduled to leave?” Damien asked. Pellingsworth Shipping had signed a very lucrative contract to bring back three shipments of French wine from Bordeaux, and the captain was due to set sail soon.

  “In three days on the Wayward Lady. They’re loading cargo right now. But I’ll find someone else to captain the ship. I don’t want to leave you.”

  “No,” Damien said, waving his hand. “You need to be on board. With all the accidents that are happening, we can’t trust these shipments to anyone else. Besides, you’ll only be gone two weeks.”

  “Be careful, lad. Don’t take any chances you don’t have to.”

  “I won’t.”

  “And be careful with her, too. She’s been through enough.”

  “Haven’t we all?”

  “Perhaps it would be best to forget the past and put what happened behind you.”

  Damien ignored Durham’s comment and sat back down in his chair.

  With a shake of his head Durham walked away. “I’ll check on that cargo tonight. Then I’ll spend the night aboard the Wayward Lady to make sure nothing happens. With all that’s gone on, it might not hurt to keep a closer watch on things.”