Betrayed by Your Kiss

by Laura Landon

  “Are you all right?” she said, her voice quivering with emotion.

  “Yes. I’m fine. Richard’s dead.”

  She nodded and clamped her teeth together as if she needed help to keep them from chattering. Her face seemed unusually pale, and Damien felt another wave of regret.

  He leaned against one of the boxes and rubbed his legs. “How did you know I was walking into a trap?”

  “Captain Durham came looking for you shortly after you left.”

  “I see.”

  “I was afraid we’d be too late.”

  “Thank heaven, you were just in time.”

  Olivia lifted a trembling hand and wiped away a tear that trailed down her cheek. Damien wanted to take her in his arms and hold her. Keep her next to him until they got home, then make love to her until this day was just a distant memory.

  “Are you ready to go?” he said, losing his battle to the desire welling within him.

  She nodded, and Damien held out his hand to help her up. She didn’t take it.

  Damien looked more closely at her, noticing for the first time the blue tinge to her lips and the way she leaned to the right.

  “I’m sure it’s nothing, but I’ve tried, and I don’t seem to be able to stand.”

  A wave of fear nearly took Damien to his knees. “Don’t move, Olivia. Let me see what’s happened.”

  “I’m sure it’s nothing.”

  “I’m sure it is, too.” He knelt beside her and ran his fingers down her arms. She seemed fine, and he moved his hands around to her back. He eased her away from the crate and slowly moved his hands over her flesh, working his way from her shoulders to her waist. He stopped when his right hand came away wet and sticky, covered in her blood. How could he not have realized she’d been shot?

  “Can you put your right arm around my neck, Liv?”

  “I think so. But if you’d just help me to my feet, I’m sure I can walk.”

  “It’s all right. I’ll carry you. Put your arm around me now.”

  She did, but her hold on him wasn’t very strong.

  “Just lean your head against me, Liv. I’ll have you home in no time.”

  “I’m sure it’s nothing,” she repeated.

  “I’m sure it is, too,” he answered, praying that was so.

  He picked her up in his arms and carried her toward the open street. Captain Durham was waiting there. “Have Johns bring the carriage as close as he can,” Damien ordered when his gaze caught Captain Durham’s. “And send someone for a doctor.”

  “Right away, Damien.”

  There was a worried look on the captain’s face, but Damien couldn’t do anything to alleviate his concern. He wasn’t sure how badly she was hurt. There was just so damn much blood.

  “I’m very tired, Damien. I think I’ll just sleep for a while.”

  Damien walked faster, his whole body feeling the need to run. He knew this feeling—the icy, cold feeling of fear. “No, Liv. Stay awake. Please. Talk to me.”

  “But I’m so very tired.”

  “I know you are. You didn’t get much sleep last night.”

  She took a shallow breath and Damien almost shouted for joy when she spoke again.

  “Do you think there’s anyone else who might want to do us harm?” she asked, her voice weak, and a slight hesitation between words.

  “No, Liv. I can’t imagine who it might be. We haven’t alienated that many people, I hope.” He was struck by another wave of panic. “Are you awake, Liv?”

  “Uh-hum.”

  The carriage pulled up a few feet away and Johns rushed to open the door. Damien picked up his pace.

  “Do you know,” she said, her arm slipping from around his neck to dangle at her side, “you’ve started calling me Liv again.”

  “Have I?”

  “Yes. I like it when you call me that.”

  Damien stepped with her into the carriage and sat with her on his lap while Johns raced through the city streets.

  “I’m going to sit you up,” Damien said, ripping his cravat from around his neck. “You seem to have hurt yourself. This is going to hurt, Liv, but I have to stop the bleeding.”

  “It’s all right, Damien. It doesn’t hurt much at all any more. I’m sure it’s just a scratch.”

  “Of course,” he said, knowing it was much more than a scratch.

  Damien leaned her forward, and she clasped her hands around his arm and laid her head on his shoulder. He took the cloth and pressed it against her flesh. The minute he touched her, she cried out.

  “I think you are getting even with me for all the times I caused you pain,” she gasped, and Damien pressed harder.

  Although the trip was short, it seemed to take forever to arrive home. The minute the carriage came to a halt, Chivers was there to open the door.

  Damien rushed into the house and up the stairs. “Send Tilly up with hot water and bandages.”

  Damien laid Olivia on the bed and lifted his cravat from her side. Thankfully the bleeding had stopped. Maybe she wasn’t hurt too badly.

  “There’s no need for such a great frown, Damien. It’s really not all that bad. I think I just scraped my back against a corner of one of the crates.”

  “Yes, that’s probably what happened. The bleeding’s already stopped.”

  When he cut her gown away and washed the blood to see the damage, he wanted to cry out for joy. Her wound wasn’t that severe. Bad enough that it might need to be sewn, but not life-threatening.

  And it hadn’t been caused by one of the crates. A bullet had grazed her. A bullet that should have gone through his flesh, but that she had taken instead.

  Chapter 23

  Damien rose from his chair the minute the door opened and Doctor Barkley emerged from Olivia’s chambers.

  “How is she?”

  “She’s fine, Lord Iversley. The bullet didn’t go deep, just grazed the skin enough to cause Lady Olivia to lose a significant amount of blood. She’s very lucky.”

  Damien felt the weight lift from his shoulders. Captain Durham breathed a sigh of relief from behind him.

  “Is she awake?” Damien asked.

  “She’s asleep right now. She wouldn’t take anything for the pain, so she’ll more than likely be awake shortly. When she does awaken, try to get some broth down her.”

  Damien nodded, then gave Chivers orders to have Cook warm some broth.

  “Well, if there’s nothing else,” Doctor Barkley said, putting on his cloak, “I think I’ll make myself available to someone who really needs me.”

  “Thank you, Doctor,” Damien said, walking Barkley to the door.

  “Just have her rest for the remainder of the day, and keep her activities to a minimum for the next week or so. No balls, no dancing. Nothing strenuous.”

  “Of course.”

  Damien closed the door behind the doctor, then reentered the study where Captain Durham was waiting for him.

  “The lady’s mighty lucky, my lord,” the captain said, leaning back against the cushions in the burgundy wingback chair where he’d spent the last hour or so. “I was afraid this time she’d taken one chance too many.”

  Damien walked over to the side table and poured them each a snifter of brandy. He thought of the two times Olivia had saved him, and his heart jolted with an emotion he seldom let surface. “She does seem to have a habit of stepping in to protect me.”

  “Three times is quite a lot for one lifetime.”

  Damien’s breath caught. “Three times?”

  “Why yes, my lord. He held up one finger. “Today.” He held up a second finger. “The day of your duel with Strathern. Strathern’s son would have killed you for sure. And . . .”

  “When was the third time?”

  The captain held up a third finger. “When she put
you aboard the Princess Anne.”

  Damien couldn’t contain his laugh. “You consider that saving my life? I nearly died because of what she did.”

  “You would have died for sure if she had left you here.”

  Damien’s fingers tightened around his glass. “What are you talking about?”

  “The contract, of course. The ten thousand pounds Strathern put on your head for whoever killed you.”

  Damien felt the blood rush from his head and reached out to steady himself against the mantel of the fireplace. “Who said there was a price on my head? How did she—”

  Damien couldn’t believe it. Surely Strathern wouldn’t, but he knew he would. That he had. Strathern was so overcome with grief he would have done anything to avenge his daughter’s death.

  “How did Olivia know there was a contract?”

  “She overheard some men say it didn’t matter if Strathern killed you or not. That you were a dead man anyway. The number of men who’d commit murder for ten thousand pounds is endless.”

  “So she sent me on the Princess Anne because she didn’t think I was a match for Strathern and his schemes.”

  Damien pounded his fist on the top of the mantel. “Damn her!” He hit the mantel again in an effort to fight the rage that thundered through him.

  “I told her that night you wouldn’t thank her for it,” Captain Durham said, setting his glass on the nearest table and rising to his feet. “I told her you’d probably hate her for sending you away. But she told me at least you’d be alive to hate her.”

  Damien gripped the edge of the mantel until his fingers ached. “Didn’t she think I might want to stay and fight my own battle? Didn’t she think by sending me away it would make me look the coward?”

  “Her father knew. He told her not to take you away. He knew you’d never make the choice to leave, but I don’t think she thought of anything other than trying to keep you alive. She loved you that much, my lord.”

  “Loved me! She made it look like I’d run away.”

  “And I don’t doubt she’d do it again.”

  The air caught in Damien’s throat. He knew Captain Durham was right. Olivia would do the same thing again in a heartbeat.

  “She loves you, my lord. She always has.”

  Damien braced one arm against the fireplace and lowered his head. For several long seconds he stared into the lifeless grate. “I nearly died. I was close, more than once.”

  “I know, my lord. I was afraid if the fever didn’t kill you, the gun you had hidden in your bedside drawer would.”

  Damien looked over his shoulder. “Not without bullets, Captain. And you’d put them where I couldn’t reach them.”

  Captain Durham smiled. “I wasn’t sure you’d realized I’d removed them.”

  Damien smiled at his friend. “Do you know how much courage it takes to end your life?”

  “Some would say the opposite—that it takes more courage to live a life rather than end it,” Captain Durham answered.

  Damien pushed himself away from the fireplace and walked across the room to the window. “But I survived. And that was when I knew what I was going to do. That was when I knew I was going to come back and get everything she’d taken away from me.”

  “She didn’t take it away. She did what she thought she had to do to save you.” Captain Durham rose from his chair and stood within a foot of Damien. “A word of warning, my lord.”

  Damien arched his brows at the serious tone to Durham’s voice.

  “Don’t hurt her more than she’s been hurt already. Thinking you were dead nearly killed her. Losing her father almost finished the job. And running the estates and ships alone while her cousin was doing everything in his power to destroy her, took its toll. Her greatest sin was that she loved you. Perhaps too much.”

  “That will also be her greatest weakness. If I learned one lesson the whole time I was fighting for my life, it was to never risk giving my heart to anyone again. I know what she wants from me. She wants to hear I still love her.”

  Damien threw what was left in his glass to the back of his throat and set it down on the mantelpiece. “Well, she’ll never hear it. Never.”

  Damien cast Captain Durham a look that screamed with the anger he still felt. “I’ll never give my heart to anyone again. Not even her.”

  “Then why are you marrying her?”

  “Because she’s mine. Because I need her, and she needs me. Even her father realized it.”

  “So, she’s nothing more to you than a possession?”

  “She’s the woman I’m going to make my wife.”

  “No, my lord. You have no intention of making her your wife. Not if you can’t give her your heart.”

  Damien stared at Captain Durham until the captain broke the silence. “What you’re doing to the lady isn’t what her father intended.”

  Damien clenched his teeth until his jaw ached. “She won’t ever have cause to complain. I’ll make sure she never wants for anything,” he said, as if he needed to defend himself.

  “Except what she’ll truly need. Your love.”

  Damien turned his back on Captain Durham and stared down at the cold ashes lying in the grate.

  He heard Captain Durham move behind him but didn’t turn around. He was too numb to argue with him further.

  “I’ve got to get back to the wharf. The Commodore is set to sail for France at first light and I want to check with Captain Russell and make sure everything is in order. If Lady Olivia needs anything, send for me. Otherwise, I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon.”

  Captain Durham walked through the open doorway, leaving Damien alone with his doubts. He stayed in the darkening room until the shadows lengthened and the silence closed in around him. Then, on legs that moved with an undeniable purpose, he walked up the stairs and into Olivia’s room.

  Olivia was still asleep, her face turned away from him, her long, mahogany-colored hair spread out around her. Heaven help him, but she was a beauty. Even pale from the pain, hers was still the face he’d dreamed of every day and night for the last four years. This was still the woman he loved more than life itself.

  He thought of what he’d said to Captain Durham: all lies. He hadn’t just come back to get everything she’d taken away from him. He’d come back for her. Because he couldn’t live without her.

  He’d told the captain that he’d never give his heart to anyone again, but he realized Olivia had always possessed it.

  He was being truthful when he told Durham that he was marrying Olivia because she belonged to him. Just as he belonged to her. And always would. Because he would never love anyone but her.

  Damien kept his eyes on her, watching the shallow rise and fall of her breasts, and he was filled with an ache that wouldn’t go away. She could have died today. If the bullet had struck her more than an inch in either direction, he might be burying her instead of standing here watching her while she slept. Wishing he could lay down beside her and wake up with her in his arms.

  Damien sat in the cushioned wingback chair by her bed.

  The door opened and Chivers entered with a tray of steaming broth. He put it on the bedside table and turned to walk away. Damien could read the concern on his face.

  “She’ll be all right, Chivers. The doctor said her wound wasn’t so bad, and she should be fine in no time.”

  “Yes, my lord. I know.”

  Chivers gave her one more look, then walked across the room and opened the door. “It’s not her wound I’m concerned about,” he said, then softly closed the door behind him.

  Olivia lay in the darkness a few minutes after Damien left. She assured him she was fine and that she wanted to be left alone so she could sleep. He reluctantly bowed to her wishes and ordered Tilly to come for him if Olivia needed him.

  Tilly promised she would, but Olivia kn
ew that wouldn’t happen. She’d never need Damien again.

  She’d heard enough through the open doorway during his conversation with Captain Durham to know that Damien would never love her. That he’d never forgive her for what she’d done. And that he intended to make her pay for what he considered her betrayal every day of their marriage.

  That may be the kind of marriage he envisioned for them, but she wanted no part of it.

  Chapter 24

  Damien stood in the middle of the morning room with his hands clasped behind his back and his mind only half attuned to the somber ticking of the mantel clock. With each steady pulse, it struck down the minutes until he would be married.

  1:42.

  Eighteen more minutes and Olivia would be his.

  Only in his dreams had he dared to believe this day might come. Dreams he’d held onto with such desperation that there were times when they were all that kept him alive. All that gave him the strength to survive. Because even though he’d never say the words, he’d always loved her so much, he’d refused to let death separate them. For four years, he’d dreamed of the day when he would be with her. And that day was finally here.

  Damien took in the lavish decorations Olivia had ordered to celebrate their wedding and felt a sense of expectancy. Captain Durham and Reverend Dunlevey stood next to the tall double windows to the east talking casually, and servants still rushed in and out, taking care of several last-minute details.

  Huge bouquets of fresh flowers crowded each other for room on the flat surface of every pedestal stand and table scattered throughout the room. Long rows of tables, covered in white linen and laden with enough food to feed a hundred people, lined every wall. Bunched satin of the richest shade of purple Damien had ever seen draped every door and window.

  He scanned the room and wanted to smile. At least she considered her wedding day a special occasion.

  “I’m glad to see your bride has chosen to observe her wedding in style.”

  Damien turned and smiled at Captain Durham. “Yes. Thank you for being here.”