by Laura Landon
Damien didn’t give her a chance to argue further, but hooked her arm through the bend of his elbow and walked to where his mother was visiting with several of her friends. When they neared, she held out her hands to welcome them.
“Damien. Olivia.”
Lady Iversley kissed him on the cheek, then greeted Olivia with the same affection.
“Oh, Olivia. I can’t tell you how happy I am to have Damien home again and to know the two of you can pick up where you were before Damien was forced to leave London. I can’t wait for you to set a date. You’ve had to wait far too long as it is.”
“Yes,” Olivia answered, “it has been a very long time.”
Olivia’s restrained response was polite and respectful, but her voice contained none of the warmth of the girl he remembered from four years ago. The hollow look in her eyes exhibited none of the exuberance from before. Damien wondered if he were the only one who noticed.
Olivia smiled, her expression cordial, even pleasant, and Damien doubted his mother noticed the detached expression on Olivia’s face, or her lack of color. His mother was too excited by the possibility that her remaining children might marry within mere months of each other. She was so elated that Penelope seemed to have captured the attention of the Marquess of Tumbledon that she didn’t notice that Olivia wasn’t as happy about Damien’s return as everyone assumed she would be.
Damien held Olivia next to him for a few more minutes while his mother gushed over how perfectly everything had worked out for her family, then he and Olivia took their leave. He escorted Olivia across the room toward the patio door, then stepped with her onto the terrace.
“That was unnecessary,” she said when they reached a quiet corner of the garden. “We hardly need to appear so companionable for your mother. She’s already convinced nothing has changed between us.”
“And if you continue to ignore me, it won’t take long for my mother, as well as the rest of Society, to realize a lot has changed.”
“People see what they expect to see. And they expect to see two people still in love with each other.”
“And we’re not?”
That brought her first reaction. “Don’t mock me.” She glared at him, her full lips pursed in a show of anger.
Damien smiled. “I seem to recall a kiss we shared earlier that—”
“Do not confuse love with lust, Damien. There is a vast difference between the two emotions.”
“You are an expert on the difference?”
She took a small step closer to him. “I was a participant in that kiss. There was a goodly measure of dominance and control. There was even more anger. And there was an unbelievable amount of lust in what we shared.” She lifted her chin and glared at him. “But there was no affection. Only a foolish lack of control on my part. As well as your own. It shouldn’t be hard for us to make sure it doesn’t happen again.”
“It shouldn’t?”
“No.”
She turned and took a step away from him. “Now, I’d like to go in, if you don’t mind. I’ve been looking for my uncle, the Earl of Pellingsworth. I’m not sure he knows you’re back. I need to talk to him. Perhaps soften the news.”
“Why should my return concern him?”
Olivia smoothed her hands over her skirts then clutched them together in front of her. “It’s not your return that will concern him. It’s the news that Father left you Pellingsworth Shipping. He’s shown quite an interest in it for the last few months and has made an offer to buy it.”
“He wants to buy Pellingsworth Shipping? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I had no intention of selling. I just want him to know the ships are no longer mine to sell so he doesn’t think there’s a chance I’ll change my mind.”
Damien felt the first wave of unease. “Why does he want them?”
“I don’t know. Perhaps because he carries the Pellingsworth title. Perhaps because they were Father’s, and he doubts my ability to run them proficiently as Father would have.” She glared at him with more intensity. “Perhaps because he is a man and can’t abide the thought of a woman intruding into his world.”
She turned her head to the side and looked away from him. “I want to make sure he hears how your return will affect him from me, and not from someone else.”
“Very well,” Damien said, extending his arm. He wanted to argue with her, to comment that not all men felt as she thought they did, but he didn’t. Talking to her uncle was more important. She took his arm and made her way back into the ballroom without giving him the slightest notice.
All eyes were riveted to them as he’d expected, but before they’d taken many steps into the ballroom, Damien knew something had changed. Olivia’s footsteps faltered before she quickly recovered. He looked down, expecting to find her faux smile firmly in place, and he wasn’t disappointed. But her gaze wasn’t focused on him. Instead, she stared at a small group of guests on the opposite side of the room.
The Marquess of Rotham and the woman he was with were the center of attention. The marquess laughed at something someone said, then reached for a very pretty woman’s hand and brought it to his lips. They laughed again, and the look the two shared was more than mere friendship.
Damien tore his gaze away from them and looked down at Olivia in time to see her erase the look of despair from her face. Even though the smile on her face hadn’t faltered, the color in her cheeks had. She was even paler than the day he’d walked back into her life.
Damien refused to give a name to the strange emotion that surged through him. He refused to acknowledge the fury raging inside him. He knew some might call it jealousy. But that’s not what it was. Because if one side of the coin was jealousy, the other side was love. And Damien had endured four years of living hell because of love. He knew better than to walk into the same trap again.
They took another step closer to the couple, and Rotham lifted his gaze and noticed them. His reaction was the same as if he’d just spied a very dear friend. He took the arm of the woman next to him and brought her with him to greet them.
Damien now had a physical reason for the discomfort he felt. Olivia’s fingers clamped around his arm with the biting strength of a vice, and another surge of fury belted him in the gut. It was past the time of giving what he felt any name other than what it was.
Damien glanced back to Olivia’s pale face and thought for the first time that the price he might be forced to pay to have her could be more than his heart could afford.
Olivia forced herself to look calm and smile as she watched Rolland reach for Prudence’s hand and bring her with him to where she and Damien stood. He was as stunningly handsome as always, and Olivia was struck by what a perfect couple the two of them made.
She was happy for Rolland, truly she was. She wished him all the joy in the world. One only had to see the happiness in Prudence’s eyes to know that she’d be a much better wife for Rolland than Olivia would have been. The peaceful contentment that emanated from them was further proof that they were much more compatible than she and Rolland ever were.
She tried to keep from trembling as Rolland made the introductions, greeting Damien as if the two of them were well-formed business partners instead of two men who’d both intended to marry her. Blood roared in her head until she couldn’t think. She must have swayed because Damien’s arm wrapped around her waist and he pulled her closer to him for support.
“. . . so happy for you, Olivia,” she heard Prudence say, and Olivia shook her head to clear it.
“Thank you,” she answered when Damien’s touch tightened. “I think I must still be in shock.”
“And I must take full responsibility for that,” Damien added. “I thought it would be easier if I broke the news of my return in person rather than Olivia hearing it in a message. Now I’m not so sure. It was quite a shock for her.”
&nb
sp; “I’m sure that no longer matters,” Rotham said, as his gaze locked with hers. “For I know the lady never stopped loving you. I’m sure how she received the news is inconsequential. The fact that she has you back with her is all that is important.”
“It’s what is important to me, too,” she heard Damien say, his words sounding so sincere. Even though Olivia knew they weren’t.
Rotham reached for her hands. “I just want to wish you the best, Olivia, and tell you how happy I am for you. I didn’t get a chance to say it . . . the last time I saw you.”
Her cheeks warmed. “Thank you, Rolland,” she said, squeezing his fingers. “For everything.”
Rolland kissed the back of her fingers, then turned his attention to Prudence.
“If you’ll excuse me, I promised the lady this next dance.”
“Of course.”
Rolland held out his arm. Prudence placed her hand on it, and they turned to walk away.
“Rolland?”
He stopped and looked back at her. “Be happy. Always.”
Both he and Prudence smiled. “We will, my lady. And you, as well.”
Olivia watched them walk away, then lifted her gaze to Damien’s. The look on his face was hard, as if chiseled from stone. She could not read it. A blessing for which she was thankful.
Damien studied the expression on Olivia’s face as Rotham and Lady Prudence walked away. She wore a forlorn look that said Olivia had lost her last means of escape.
A knot formed in the pit of his stomach when he realized from what she might want to escape.
Or from whom.
He tried to ignore the ache that ate away at his insides.
“I’d ask you to dance, but I don’t trust my legs yet to maneuver the steps.”
She quickly looked away. “That’s all right. I don’t see my uncle here, so there’s no use in staying. I prefer to go home. It’s been a long day.”
“As you wish.”
They bid Lord and Lady Maddenly good night and Damien led her to their waiting carriage.
She didn’t speak on the way home, and he let her ride in silence. He was more interested in mulling over what she’d said earlier. That the kiss they’d shared had been filled with anger and control and dominance.
He couldn’t deny it. It had been—at first anyway. When he was trying to prove how easy it would be to govern her, to steal her self-control and make her do what he wanted. Before lust gave way to a passion that was so fierce he couldn’t fight it. Now he realized how much that passion dictated every move he made. Every emotion he felt. And how much of his heart she still possessed. How easy it would be for her to destroy him!
He sat back against the velvet cushions and watched the London townhouses go by in a darkened blur. By the time they arrived at Olivia’s townhouse, he knew that the only way he could protect himself was to keep her at arm’s length. That was the only way to make sure she never had the power to hurt him again.
When the carriage stopped, he helped her down and gave her his arm. They walked through the door Chivers held open for them and stopped to give him their wraps. Olivia silently gave hers over, then walked toward the stairs.
“Would you care for a glass of wine before you retire?” he asked.
Damien wasn’t sure why he wanted to stop her. Wasn’t sure why he was loathe to be separated from her.
“No, thank you. I’m quite weary. Do help yourself. You know where Father kept his liquor.”
“Yes, I do.”
She turned her back and began her ascent up the stairs. She’d only taken a few steps before she was stopped by a loud pounding at the front door.
Chivers reached to open it, and a very distraught Earl of Pellingsworth rushed into the house.
“Olivia!”
“Uncle?” Olivia descended the stairs until she stood in front of him. “Is something wrong?”
Damien stepped forward, but Pellingsworth didn’t cast a glance in his direction. His focus was on Olivia, and he stumbled across the room to get closer to her.
The earl’s clothing was in disarray, and his face held a frantic expression. He tried to speak twice, but issued breathy, guttural gasps as if he couldn’t make the words come into the open. When Pellingsworth finally spoke, there was a desperation in his words that sent a wave of alarm racing through Damien.
“Tell me it isn’t so! Tell me!”
“Tell you what isn’t so?” Olivia grasped her uncle’s hands and held them. “What’s wrong, uncle? Has something happened?”
“Where is he? Where?”
“If you’re looking for me,” Damien said, stepping out from the doorway, “I’m right here.”
Lord Pellingsworth spun around, then took a step backward.
“Oh, my God! It’s true.”
Pellingsworth clutched his hand to his chest and took several huge gulps of air. His face paled and he lifted a trembling hand and pointed to Damien in disbelief.
“You can’t be! You’re here! You’ve returned!”
Olivia turned a worried gaze in Damien’s direction, then looked again at her uncle. “Please, come into the study, uncle, and sit down.”
She reached to lead her uncle to the study, but he swung out his arm. He would have struck her if she hadn’t moved back.
Damien closed the distance between them as much as he safely dared. “Come here, Olivia,” he said softly. “Now.”
Damien tried to keep his voice calm, but it was hard when he saw the fury on Pellingsworth’s face.
Damien looked at Olivia and nodded, giving her a sign to step past her uncle and come to him. She did, taking a wide berth around her uncle. When she reached his side, Damien pulled her behind him.
“You’ve returned,” Pellingsworth gasped. “But everyone said you never would.”
“Yes, I have. Now, why don’t you tell me why my return has upset you so?”
“Because of the ships. She’d have sold them if you hadn’t come back,” Pellingsworth said, a disjointed tone to his voice. “I could have made her.”
Pellingsworth nervously rubbed his hand against the material at his thigh. “Now it’s too late,” he said, shaking his head. “He knows you have returned, and nothing will stop him now.” Pellingsworth paced back and forth like a tiger locked in a cage. “Oh, it’s all my fault. All my fault.”
“What’s your fault?” Damien stepped around the desk and faced Olivia’s uncle. “Who are you talking about?”
“Richard. My son, Richard.” Pellingsworth turned his attention to Olivia. “Oh, Olivia. If only you had sold me the ships when I offered to buy them.”
“You know I couldn’t sell you the ships. I could never give them up.”
“But you had to. You just needed time to realize it. That’s all.”
Damien didn’t have time to ask what he meant before Chivers knocked, then entered the room with Captain Durham’s first mate close behind him.
“You have a visitor, my lord,” Chivers said. “He insisted on accompanying me.”
“It’s fine, Chivers. What wrong, Harrigan?”
“We’ve got one of the men who’s been causing the trouble aboard the ships, sir. Captain Durham said for you to come right away.”
Pellingsworth’s eyes widened, and he bolted toward the door. Damien stepped in front of him to block his exit.
“Who is he?” Damien asked Harrigan. “Do you know him?”
“No, sir. We have him trapped aboard ship. He was trying to set fire to the Commodore. He ran for it when we saw him and is holed up on the upper deck.”
“Is he armed?”
“Yes, my lord. Captain Durham wanted you to decide if we should rush him or not. Pinky can get a clean shot off from the crow’s nest of the Wayward Lady docked alongside the Commodore.”
“No! Don’t kil
l him!”
Damien rushed to the desk and pulled a pistol from a drawer. He walked around the desk and stopped when he saw Olivia rise to follow.
“You will stay here.”
She shook her head. “I need to—”
“No! I don’t have time to worry about you. We’ll take care of this, Captain Durham and I.”
Damien was surprised when her shoulders sagged in resignation. Then he remembered the other times she’d gone where she shouldn’t have: the morning of the duel, the night of the fire, the . . . “Promise me, Olivia. I want your word you’ll stay here and not follow me to the docks.”
“I, um . . .”
“Your promise!”
She opened her mouth, then finally spoke. “I promise.”
Damien turned his attention to Pellingsworth. “I’ll give you one chance to talk your son into surrendering. The choice will be his. If you can’t, we’ll go in after him.”
Pellingsworth nodded and followed Damien and Harrigan out of the room. Damien let the others go to the waiting carriage first, and when he reached the door he made the mistake of looking back. Olivia was standing in the middle of the entryway, looking terribly alone and frightened.
Damien wanted to go to her and hold her for just one second. He wanted to feel her in his arms once more before he left.
Instead, he said, “You gave me your word, Olivia. I’m holding you to it.”
She nodded. He turned, but not before he saw the look of concern on her face.
Damien walked out the door and down the walk to the waiting carriage.
The look of concern on her face caused his heart to soften. And Damien knew Olivia’s cousin, cornered and ready to shoot anyone who came near him, was not what he needed to fear most.
Olivia paced the floor from the study through the foyer and back to the study until she was certain she’d worn a path in the thick Persian carpet. What if this time Damien didn’t come back alive? What if Richard wouldn’t listen to his father and refused to peaceably surrender? What if Damien were lying hurt right now and needed her help?
