Vow: A Lords of Action Novel
Page 18
Caine’s eyes, but not his head, lifted to his friend. “The truth? The truth is what I allow it to be. If I survive, my penchant for purchasing young virgins will be leaked, and it is me who will suffer the scandal of it—there is no way I am letting Ara suffer my fate. Nor will I allow her to put herself in scandal’s way by admitting the truth to the duke—that she was once sold at the brothel. The man is too unpredictable and out for blood to chance him with that secret. I refuse to let Ara be destroyed, one sneer, one cut at a time, until her life is ground into shambles. The scandal will be mine. That is the truth I allow.”
“I know Southfork, Caine. And he is not an unreasonable man—surely he would not be the duke’s second if the duke wasn’t worthy of respect. I tell you, the duke will listen to reason.”
Caine’s palm slammed onto the desk. “I will not chance, Ara, Fletch, so you best stop that talk before I put a dent in that skull of yours.”
“Now you are threatening me to get your way?”
“Yes.” Caine sighed, his fingers rubbing his eyes. He looked up to his friend, tempering his voice. “But threats aside, I do need to know that you will continue to be my second.”
“I beg you, Caine, one last time to reconsider. This need not happen.”
“Be a man about it, Fletch, and have my bloody back. If I go down in a duel, I need to know that you will clean up the mess behind me.”
“A duel?” Quick footsteps pounded into the study, Ara running, her hand flat on her chest, her face contorted in worry. “Caine, a duel—a mess? What are you two talking about?”
Dammit.
She skidded to a stop at the side of his desk, her green eyes flickering between Caine and Fletch.
Caine stood, moving to her side. “You were eavesdropping?”
She stared up at him, the gold rings in her eyes on fire. “I damn well was—what is happening, Caine? A duel? What madness is this?”
“I will exit at this juncture.” Fletch gave a quick bow to Ara. He looked to Caine. “I will do as you ask, of course.”
Lips tight, Caine gave him a curt nod.
Fletch walked out of the study without another word, closing the door behind him.
“What do you think to do, Caine?” Ara grabbed his forearm, her words starting before the click of the door.
“What did you hear?”
“I heard the words threats and duel and I was not about to stay in the hall waiting for you to finish your conversation.” Her fingernails dug into his muscle through his linen shirt. “Tell me this instant what is happening, Caine.”
His teeth clamped tight. He didn’t want to tell her. He had planned to give her just one more day of bliss—of everything in her life being perfect.
She glared up at him, waiting. Lips tight, eyes narrowed at him. She wasn’t going to move from her spot until she got answers.
He exhaled, shaking his head against the injustice of the spitfire staring at him. “A duel, Ara. I am to be in a duel.”
She blinked, struck. “You cannot. I will not allow it.”
“You will not allow it?” Caine’s eyebrow cocked. “You can do nothing to control it, Ara.”
“But no—not a duel.” Heavy fear crept into her voice. “Why? Is this because of your broken engagement?”
“No. It is because of the girl we saved weeks ago—Lizzie. She is the little sister of a powerful man’s wife, and that man is now out for blood—my blood. He found me—he knows I delivered her to the estate.”
“So he thinks you…” She gulped, her eyes wide. “And Lizzie did not tell him you were the one to save her—that she wasn’t hurt?”
“No. She refuses to talk about where she was missing to for those days. I do not blame her.”
“But you can tell him.”
“He will not believe me, Ara. You know that.”
“Caine, do not be obtuse. You need to go to him, tell him the truth.”
“And what is the truth, Ara? That I purchase virgins? That I do it to save them, rather than use them?”
“Yes. Exactly. You must go and tell him that.”
“Even saying the words out loud is ridiculous. He will not believe it, Ara, not without proof.”
“So I am the proof.” She grabbed his other arm, shaking him. “I will tell him. I was there. I will tell him everything. Everything we have done for the past years. He cannot refute me—or Mrs. Merrywent—or any score of the girls we have saved. Tell me who he is, I will go right now.”
Caine grabbed her shoulders, putting distance between them by forcing her to take several steps backwards. “No. I absolutely will not tell you who the man is, Ara. You will not interfere in this business.”
“I will very well interfere, Caine. This is your life.” She tried to twist out of his grip, but he held tight.
She ceased her contorting, her eyes turning to ice as she stilled and looked at him. “I will stalk you every minute, Caine, follow you when you think to leave for your damn duel, and I will stop this—no matter what.”
The frigid resolve in her voice turned Caine’s blood cold.
Of course she would.
She would stop at nothing to protect what was hers.
That thought—that reality—terrified him like nothing else.
Ara would sacrifice herself to save him. Sacrifice her respectability, her future.
Blast it. If she appeared in the park—or God forbid, she got in the way of the duke or a stray bullet. The mere possibility slammed into Caine’s gut, blanching his face.
If Ara was hurt—or worse—in any way, he couldn’t handle it. He had almost been destroyed when Isabella died—and he knew he would suffer that fate fully—a thousand times over—if anything ever happened to Ara.
Caine’s eyes settled onto Ara. Her beautiful green eyes that demanded he cede to her. Her full, cherry lips that were parted slightly, heaving breaths slipping between them. The delicate cut of her cheekbones that spoke of gentleness but belied the lioness within.
He had not been able to save Isabella. But he damn well could save Ara.
He needed to get rid of her. He would be dead or ruined by morning. He needed to get her to leave him, leave his side. It was the only way he could ensure she did not become entangled in the scandal that will become his death—or his life if he survived the duel.
The last day of bliss he had hoped to give her dissolved into wispy nothingness.
His chest in a vise, squeezing his breath, Caine hardened himself.
His hands dropped from her shoulders, and he turned from her, going to the back window of his study. He stared out at the elaborately coifed rear gardens of his home. “This is not your place, Ara.”
Not letting him escape her space, she moved to his side, looking up at him as her shoulder dragged across the glass. “What do you mean, ‘this is not my place’?”
Caine kept his eyes on the crisp boxwood hedges. “I had not realized you would determine you could interfere so in my life, Ara, and I am reconsidering.”
She exhaled an audible breath, her hand flattening on her chest. “Reconsidering the duel—thank the heavens. I do not know what you were thinking about in the first place, Caine, and I—”
“No, Ara. I am reconsidering you.”
Her head snapped back. “What?”
Caine turned to her, conjuring tired apathy in his eyes. “You, Ara. This is a very clear example. I do not think you fit within the confines of my life. I believed, for a moment in time, that you would. But I was wrong—I was reacting to what happened at Notlund Castle. As much as it pains me to say it, you were right about how the title is my life. There is no place for you within my world, Ara. You don’t understand it, and you never will.”
Her face crumpled, and as much as it pained him to see it, relief flooded through Caine. But then her face straightened, her eyes narrowing at him.
Of course she would battle it. Her spine was fight to the core.
“You are only saying this because I am m
ad at you, Caine. But I am not going to stop just because you threaten me, you oaf.”
He sighed with indifference. “This was a mistake, Ara. I was wrong to take you. Wrong to extend the offer of marriage. You will be…compensated for your time, just as you always have been.”
“Compensated?” The cruelty of the word hit her, taking the aplomb from her stance. “This is madness, Caine. You love me.”
“I do not.”
“No. You are lying.”
“I do not wish to continue this, Ara. I have reconsidered everything since yesterday. You were a mistake.”
“No, you are just trying to drive me away. Even a fool such as me, who does not understand your blasted world, can see what you are doing.”
Caine’s head tilted. “It is true that I am attempting to protect you from my current situation. But not for the reason you think. Not because I love you. I am grateful for your assistance throughout the years, and wish you nothing but happiness, Ara. But if I have loved you, that sentiment has passed to where I no longer own it.”
She grabbed his arm, her voice wavering. “Caine, I beg of you, do not do this.”
He looked down to her hand clutching his upper arm. It took him a long moment to steel his resolve. His eyes travelled coldly up to her. “You will always be the wrong girl, Ara. The one I bought by accident.”
“Bella.” The word slipped from her lips, flat, dull. She dropped her hand, her feet shuffling backward.
He nodded, folding his arms across his chest. “I thought I had overcome it, Ara, but I have not. You are not the one I have always wanted. The one I still want.” The words ripped from his throat, gagging him. But there was no other way. She needed to hate him.
“You still love Isabella?”
Caine froze, unable to open his mouth. He needed Ara to hate him, but he also couldn’t repeat the lie. Couldn’t force the words out of his mouth.
So he stared at her. Stared at her in silence, offering no indication his words were false.
Her head shook, swinging wide as her face contorted to disbelief. Moments passed before she stilled, her green eyes landing on him, pain ripping so fully into her, her body shook.
Yet she pulled herself up straight, her chin tall.
Caine expected no less.
Ara opened her mouth, her voice a harsh whisper.
“Then you will always be in love with a false dream, Caine.”
She spun, walking silently to the door. He could see she fought for every step. Fought not to turn back to him.
And then she was gone.
Caine waited until he heard her footsteps recede down the hall and the front door open and close, before he sank against the window.
Gone.
She was gone from his life, just like he needed. He was lower than the dung that filled the Thames. There was no denying that truth. But it didn’t matter. Ara was safely away from him. That was all—the only thing—that mattered.
Minutes passed before her last words filtered into his mind.
False dream.
He was in love with a false dream? What the hell had that meant?
Caine ran through their conversation again.
He had said he was still in love with Isabella, and then she had said he would always love a false dream.
Hell.
Caine was out the door in three strides.
~~~
“Ara. Stop.”
The bastard was always telling her to stop, and she was damn well tired of it. She refused to turn around at Caine’s yell. If he didn’t want her—then she damn well didn’t want him. She was done with his games. Done.
Six years. Too long. Done.
Her steps quickened down the sidewalk.
“Ara.”
She glanced over her shoulder. Caine was running at full speed and only a block behind her.
Glimpsing forward, her frantic eyes searched the street in front of her. Straight, and he would catch up to her in no time. To her left, at least, was a smattering of people strolling and then the park that led to her old residence. Maybe she could lose him amongst the people, if not the park.
Ducking to her left, she hurried as fast as she could without making a spectacle of herself.
“Stop, Ara. Wait.”
Caine’s bellow sounded farther away, which was good. Jumping across the muck on the street, she dashed into the park, cutting across the swathes of grass rather than taking the meandering pathway.
She looked behind. She couldn’t spot him through the trees and people, but she wasn’t about to chance him finding her, so she ran the last few feet to her old Gilbert Lane house, slipping in alongside the building and letting herself in through the French doors leading to her old study.
The home was still empty—she knew from Caine’s new man of affairs that the place had yet to be sold or rented. Panting, she leaned forward against one of the white painted bookcases, her hands flat on an empty shelf to support herself. She guessed she just needed to wait fifteen minutes or so and Caine would give up on trying to find her.
What could he possibly even want with her now?
To give her a tidy sum?
To compensate her?
The word rattled around in her brain, her stomach curdling at the thought. Impossible that he thought he could compensate her for loving him.
“What did you mean, ‘false dream’?”
Ara jumped, a yelp squeaking out her throat.
Caine filled the doorway to the study, his chest heaving. Damn him. He must have slipped in the back door. The man had never moved silently in his life—he was too big—and this was the moment he managed to be stealthy?
His fingers curled and uncurled at his sides. “I repeat, Ara. False dream—what did you mean? You said those very specific words for a reason, and I want to know what that reason is.”
Dammit. Those words had just flown from her mouth before she could catch them. She had hoped by leaving it would be as if she never spoke them.
She shook her head. He would never hear this story from her. “I have never told you, Caine. And I do not intend to do so now.”
“Never told me what?” He stepped into the room, staying a distance away, but he could easily trap her if he wanted. She recognized that.
Of course, what would he do to her if he did trap her? Hurt her? No, he would never hurt a woman—that much she was sure of.
She waved her hand, disregarding him. “Let us just leave what was said in your study, in that room. You clearly have no need for me, Caine, and I will move on. There is no need for us to ever speak again.”
He took another step toward her, his hands up, pleading. “In all that I have done for you throughout the years, Ara—tell me. You owe me that.”
A scoffed chuckle ripped from her chest as she jumped forward. “All you have done for me? What about all I have done for you?”
His hands dropped to his sides again, folding into fists. Fists that did not unclench. His blue eyes went cold, piercing her.
The look alone stole all the air from the room.
Caine’s mouth curled on the left side, his voice chilling. “You were a scared little waif on the side of the road, Ara. Nothing. Dirt. So yes, you owe me. On all that is holy. Tell me.”
“I am…I am dirt?” Her feet staggered backward on their own accord, and her backside bumped into the bookcase. She gripped the edge of a shelf, trying to steady herself and met his glare. “I am nothing?”
His mouth set hard, his jaw did not give the slightest twinge.
She cackled, her head falling back as she stared at the ceiling, not caring that she sounded deranged. “I am so stupid. A stupid dirt girl. A stupid, nothing, dirt girl.” Her chin dropped, her eyes finding his. “You are right, Caine. So absolutely right. You do need to know. And I am done protecting you.”
“Protecting me?”
“Protecting you from your own ignorance. Your own idiocy. You have been in love with a woman for years that never deserv
ed one tiny bit of your affection.”
His chin tilted down, his eyebrows lifting. “You are talking about Isabella?”
“Of course I am talking about Isabella.” Her head shook as her eyes seared into his. “Do you know I understand exactly why you love her?”
His forehead crinkled, but he didn’t say a word.
Ara drew a breath that shook on the exhale. “I sat with her for days in that coach after they took me. I clutched her hand and she clutched mine. And I loved her for that very thing. She was a lifeline for me. The last thing I could grasp that seemed normal in those wicked days. She would see me worry or cry, and she would smile. And she would make me believe that everything would be right in the end. Just with her smile. I did not realize then how very good she was at lying. I just accepted her smile. Accepted her perseverance as if it was my own. I loved her for that smile.”
Her words halted, a hard lump forming in her throat. She had started the tale she had vowed to never tell him. She needed to stop.
“What happened, Ara?” Caine’s voice had taken a hard edge. Harder than she had ever heard it. “Speak it, Ara.”
She swallowed with a shake of her head, her eyes dropping to the floor. She was dirt. Dirt. So what did it matter now, her vow? “It had been days that we had been tied together in that coach, and then they dragged us into that whorehouse. They put both of us in a room with a tub. The water was freezing, but a maid came in and jabbed at us with a fire poker until we both suffered the water. I scrubbed Isabella’s hair. She scrubbed mine.”
The memory filled Ara’s mind, taking over all thoughts of the present and sending her knees weak.
Ara sank, her back sliding down the edge of the bookcase until she was sitting on the planks of the empty floor. “Isabella was combing my hair when the crow came in.”
“The crow?”
Ara nodded, her hand rubbing her forehead as her eyes shut tight at the scene flashing, seizing her mind. “The crow grabbed me first. An old, wretched lady. Her back so stooped she was half as tall as she should have been. Her nose was long, curved, like a beak. Black hair. She had the men that came in with her push me onto the bed and yank my legs apart. I was only in a wet chemise. I thought it was the end—why I was there. But then the crow asked me if I was virgin. I said yes, and then she…she stooped over me, verifying that very fact. Her beak nose was all I could stare at, I was so scared—so mortified at her fingers and where they were.”