The Dove Formatted

by welis

  “Adam, you must stop this!” she insisted.

  His gaze swiveled to her, and he narrowed his eyes, his upper lip curling back in a sneer. “You want to save your brother so badly, little dove? Go on, then. Stop him.”

  Her hands shook, one of them still on his arm, the other clinging to a shaking, sobbing Serena. “Will you allow him to kill Bertram in front of our niece? My brother is a peer, and Niall will hang if he kills him! You have to stop him!”

  Adam’s stone face faltered, as he seemed to realize her concern was not for her brother, but for Niall who could never get away with murdering a peer of the realm no matter the circumstances. Glancing down at Serena, he frowned, then sighed.

  “Shite,” he muttered under his breath before moving toward the two men. “Niall, that’s enough!”

  The butler seemed beyond hearing him now, crouching on the ground over Bertram’s prone form, hands poised to strangle him. Bertram gurgled as the other man’s large fingers closed around his neck, kicking and flailing.

  “Look away, sweetling,” she murmured, ensuring Serena’s face remained buried in her skirts.

  “Goddamn it, Niall!” Adam growled, grasping him under his arms and wrenching him away from Bertram with a grunt. “Christ, you’re as heavy as a bag of boulders, you stubborn bastard. I said, get off him!”

  Adam managed to wrestle Niall away, grunting and muttering curses under his breath as the man bucked and writhed beneath him, growling his rage like a rabid dog.

  “Get out of here, before we change our minds and let him loose,” she hissed at Bertram, disgusted by the sight he made, covered in blood and dirt as he struggled to his feet.

  He spat upon the path, staining it red, swiping his sleeve over his swollen and bloodied lip. “Three days,” he slurred. “And make it sixty thousand unless you want me to have that cretin prosecuted for attacking me.”

  Swiveling on his heel, he stumbled toward the gate and threw it open, disappearing from sight.

  “Get the fuck off me, damn you!” Niall growled.

  “Only if you promise to go inside and sort yourself out,” Adam said calmly, keeping a knee between Niall’s shoulders. “I won’t have you going off and getting yourself into trouble. Livvie needs you.”

  Niall seemed to calm at that reminder and went still with a rough sigh. “I promise.”

  “I mean it, Niall,” Adam replied, seeming reluctant to let the man up.

  “I said I promise, ye bloody idiot. Now get off!”

  Adam stood, and Niall came up onto his knees, sitting back on his haunches with a scowl marring his features. His bruised knuckles were stained with Bertram’s blood, and more of the same splattered the front of his shirt and its cuffs.

  Glaring up at Adam, he stood staring off down the path Bertram had just taken, his hands opening and closing in threatening spasms, causing the veins along the backs to bulge and pulsate.

  “Well, then,” Niall spat. “What are ye goin’ to do about it, Hart?”

  Daphne’s blood ran cold at Adam’s response, a tremor rocking through her as his words fell in her gut like a heavy stone weight.

  “I’m going to kill the bastard.”

  Adam threw open the door of the chamber he’d been sharing with Daphne, a chunk of wood paneling flying loose and sailing through the air when it hit the wall from the force of his entry. He paced to a sideboard Niall had just stocked that morning and lifted the brandy decanter, tearing out its stopper and pitching it across the room. He did not see where it landed, but heard the tinkle of glass when it shattered. He drank straight from the canister, the burn of the liquor scorching a fiery path from his throat down into his gut. The flames of his anger roared hot, and it was all he could do to keep from tearing the entire chamber apart. The surface of his skin felt too tight, and his heart beat a cadence of bloodlust.

  Motion in the doorway drew his gaze to Daphne, who stood in the opening watching him with a grim expression. Her mouth a firm line, hands folded demurely before her, she inclined her head.

  “Adam, we must be rational about this,” she said, her voice low but steady.

  It was the first thing she’d said to him since his announcement in the courtyard, but they were the words he’d expected to hear. Because, of course, she would try to convince him to be rational about this. She could never understand that he was beyond logic now. His careful plans and war strategies had all crumbled into dust the moment that whoreson had laid eyes on his Serena.

  “Rational,” he spat with a sneer. “He’s seen her, Daphne. He knows she’s alive, that I’ve kept her hidden all this time.”

  Nodding, she came into the room, approaching him slowly … as if afraid he might hurt her. In his present state, he could make no promises, so it was best she kept her distance.

  “I know,” she said, keeping her voice lowered and her gaze locked with his. “But it doesn’t have to end like this, Adam.”

  His fingers tightened around the neck of the decanter, and his hand shook as he lifted it for another swig. It did very little to calm his nerves. He was a bundle of nerve endings twisted inside out and exposed to the elements, a keg of gunpowder ready to explode.

  “He is in a position to take her away from me,” he ground out through clenched teeth. “To take her away from her mother. I will not let him do that.”

  “Then we shall simply have to find a way to outsmart him,” she reasoned. “You’ve done that all this time. I know you can—”

  “He’s her father by law,” he snapped, shaking his head. “And if word gets out that Olivia suffers from a malady of the mind … No, I cannot risk it. And if I pay him, it will only put me at his mercy. He can extort money from me until the day I die. If I give in, he’ll only ask for more and more to keep our secrets.”

  “I agree that you should not pay him,” she replied. “But, what you’re proposing—”

  Her words choked off on a gasp when he advanced on her, dropping his brandy bottle to the floor. Ignoring the liquor sloshing over his boots and staining the rug, he grasped her shoulders and shook her, his teeth clenched so hard, his jaw ached.

  “Will you pretend you’re still trying to protect anyone other than your cunt of a brother now, little dove?” he rasped, his blood boiling, his stomach twisting violently when faced with the evidence of her obvious loyalties. “He isn’t here, and Niall is no longer at risk of facing the gallows, yet still you try to save his life. Does precious Bertie still mean so much to you, even after all he’s done? Perhaps I was right about you, after all … you prefer your innocence and your pretty little cage over the realities I have shown you!”

  She shrugged out of his hold and slapped him so hard, his left eye watered, his cheek blooming with an annoying sting. Striking him again, she sneered, her eyes blazing with blue fire.

  “You bastard,” she growled, putting both hands against his chest and shoving him, causing him to stumble over the fallen brandy decanter. “You heartless, uncaring son of a bitch! After all you’ve put me through, I still believed you, I still took your side in all this … I turned my back on my family, and still, it is not enough? I have no more innocence! My cage was destroyed! I have nothing except the world you wrecked, leaving me in the rubble as if I meant no more to you than an insect!”

  Her words did not make him feel any better, even if they reminded him of all the ways she’d proved her loyalty to him. They only served to make him feel worse, the unwelcome sensation of guilt once again gnawing at his gut. He shoved it back down relentlessly, reminding himself that it was no fault of his she’d come to him so innocent and naive. If anything, she ought to thank him for exposing the charlatans in her family for who they truly were and freeing her from her gilded cage.

  “He has to die,” he argued. “He even deserves it.”

  “Yes,” she agreed. “He does. But if you think my interference means I give a bloody damn about the man who exposed me as a whore to the entire ton, who ruined dozens of women without a care
… then you really do not know, do you? You have no idea that I’m trying to save you.”

  He scowled, blinking several times as he tried to make sense of her words. “Save me? From what? Your brother stands no chance against me.”

  She looked away, but not before he noticed the glimmer of tears in her eyes. His belly clenched at the sight, his cock surging against the fall of his breeches. He wanted to kiss the skin at the corner of her eye, taste the salt of her pain just before taking her down to the brandy-soaked carpet and sinking into her bollocks deep. With the object of his rage no longer within his sights, he had very little recourse for easing the tension making his muscles grow tight.

  “Perhaps he does not,” she relented. “But what of Serena or Olivia? What of me? Should the ramifications of this act fall onto us—”

  “It will not,” he interjected, reaching out against his better judgment and taking her face in his hands. “Do you hear? It will not, because you are mine, and I protect what is mine.”

  She winced when his fingers dug into her jaw, his grip speaking of the overwhelming possessiveness that swept over him in that moment. Even when the urge to murder her brother overwhelmed him, he could not fight off another, more visceral desire … the need to remind her that she was his, that nothing would change that.

  “Does it bother you to think of me touching you with bloodstained hands?” he murmured, coming closer, until his body brushed hers. “Will you spurn me when I return bathed in your brother’s gore? Is that it, little dove?”

  She trembled, whether from fear or desire, he could not tell. Nor did he care. He would have her when he wanted her, regardless of her own feelings on the matter. They both knew how easily he could turn her fear into lust.

  “It is not your hands I am concerned with,” she whispered. “But your soul, Adam. Taking a man’s life is not the same as destroying his livelihood. Putting a gun to a man’s head and pulling the trigger is not the same as coercing him into doing it himself. Do not commit the one act you cannot take back once it is done.”

  Her words took him aback, yet again, leaving his head spinning and his stomach roiling as he tried to make sense of her—this woman he knew so well, but failed to understand in so many ways. Even after the mess he’d made of her life, after the things her father and brother had done, a part of her remained untouched and pure. Did she truly believe there was any good left in him—that he even had a soul worth redeeming?

  “What remained of my soul died the day I laid eyes on Olivia in that asylum,” he whispered. “So, you see, little dove, you are worried for nothing. I will kill Bertram, and I will do it without an ounce of hesitation, remorse, or regret. When I am finished, we shall all return to Dunnottar—yourself included. I suggest you send word to your servants to have your things prepared for the journey. We will procure them on our way out of London.”

  At her shocked expression, he grinned.

  “You did not think I’d let you go, even now, did you?” he teased, smoothing the pad of his thumb over her lips. “Not a chance, little dove.”

  She scowled, shaking her head. “Surely, you cannot expect me to simply return to Scotland with you, to go on being your … your …”

  “Whore?” he finished for her, unable to help another laugh at the way that word turned her cheeks pink and dilated her pupils. She could pretend to hate it all she wished, but he knew how it spoke to her wanton nature, how she reveled in acting as his whore every night when the sun set and the darkness masked their salacious deeds.

  She frowned. “Adam—”

  He tightened his hold on her jaw, silencing her protests. “I always get what I want, little dove. Do you really wish to fight me, and force me to prove that to you yet again?”

  She lowered her gaze and sighed, but shook her head, and he released her, satisfied with that. Perhaps she was angry with him now, but she would soon understand that this was all for the best. Bertram had yet to answer for exposing their agreement to the entire ton, and now, he had threatened to destroy his family by taking Serena and ousting Olivia’s condition, as well. It could not be allowed to stand. As long as Bertram lived, he would always be a threat.

  So, he would end this once and for all, and then, he would return to Scotland where he belonged. His little dove belonged there, too, and once they were safely ensconced there, everything would be as it was, and she would remember. She would thank him, she would be grateful, and she would be his.

  That evening after dinner, Daphne waited until Adam had hidden away in the drawing room with the pianoforte and a bottle of brandy, closing himself off for what she hoped would be hours. Then, she went in search of Niall. Her stomach had been churning all day, her hands shaking so badly, she was surprised she’d been able to feed herself. Adam’s declaration had echoed through her mind relentlessly.

  I will kill Bertram … without an ounce of hesitation, remorse, or regret.

  She believed him, of course. He’d given her no reason to doubt that his murderous rage toward Bertram could not someday manifest into a physical threat. In truth, she found herself surprised it had not come to this sooner.

  Despite knowing this had been inevitable, she could not help the unease twisting in her gut … the feeling that once Adam committed this one act, things would never be the same. Simply taking the people under his protection back to Dunnottar and pretending everything was as it had been would not mend matters. The anger in his gut would never be assuaged, not when he still clung to it like a rabid dog with a bone, refusing to let go. Perhaps her brother did deserve to die, and yes, he had brought this all upon himself. Yet, a part of her wanted to fight this, to find some other way to solve the dilemma without being forced to watch Adam go off to kill her brother.

  Not because she wanted Bertram to live, but because her heart ached over the possibility of what it might do to Adam. It was so ridiculous, she almost laughed at herself aloud. Foolish Daphne, her soft heart yearning for a man who could never truly love her, not when her name tied her to his mortal enemy. Even if he killed Bertram, Adam would never be able to see her as anything other than a Fairchild, the daughter, sister, and niece of the men who had destroyed his entire world.

  No matter. Even if he could never care for her the way she cared for him, she would save him. She would save him from himself, even if he tossed her aside afterward, changing his mind about wanting her. Even if he scorned her. Even if he hated her for it.

  She found Niall coming from the wine cellar, a bottle of what had once been her father’s best burgundy clutched in one fist. Now, she supposed it was Adam’s best burgundy, as everything within these now walls belonged to him … including her.

  “M’lady,” he said, glancing up and coming to a stop in the middle of the corridor. “Is there something’ ye’re needin’?”

  She smiled at his formal address of her. She would have preferred he called her Daphne, but supposed ‘m’lady’ was far better than the silent glaring he typically subjected her to.

  Grasping his arm, she propelled him through the nearest door, closing it behind them after peering over her shoulder to ensure they were not seen or overheard. The steady flow of music still came from the drawing room, so she did not worry over Adam discovering them.

  “I need your help,” she said, pressing her back against the door.

  Raising an eyebrow, Niall set the burgundy on a nearby table and crossed his arms over his chest. “I s’pose ye want me to help ye talk him out of it.”

  She sighed, running a hand over her bedraggled coiffure. “He cannot go through with it, Niall. You hate my brother as much as he does, but even you must see that.”

  The butler studied her in silence for a long while, his bruised knuckles a potent reminder of the events of that afternoon in the courtyard. She shuddered at the memory of all that blood, of Bertram’s swollen face and unsteady gait as he’d walked away. Niall had been fit to murder her brother with his bare hands.

  “Hart’s a hard man ’cause h
e’s had to be one,” Niall replied. “But he’s no killer.”

  Her eyes widened as she realized the butler agreed with her. “Then you’ll help me.”

  He scoffed. “And have him turnin’ all that rage on me? I’m no fool, lass. Once Hart gets it in his head that somethin’ must be done, there’s no stoppin’ him.”

  Pressing her fingers to her temples, she tried to stifle a growing headache. “I know that! Don’t you think I know that?”

  Niall raised his eyebrows at her sharp tone, then smirked, his gaze turning knowing. “Well, I’ll be damned. You actually love the bastard.”

  She scowled at his inference. “Of course I do not. How could I after all he’s done?”

  “He does you, ye know,” he replied with a shrug. “Too much a fool to know it, but it’s true. Why else would you two be so bloody mad for each other? It defies reason.”

  She opened her mouth to protest, but then clamped it shut, knowing she would never be able to reason with the man. Of course she did not love Adam—the man who had coerced her into their fateful agreement and ravaged her body in every way possible. The man who had set about her destruction every chance he got, just because he knew it would serve to further infuriate her brother.

  “Will you help me or not?” she asked, hands braced upon her hips. “I cannot do this without you, as Adam will never let me leave the house alone, and I need to be able to leave in order to execute my plan.”

  He pursed his lips, tapping his chin with his index finger as if thinking it over. “So ye’ve a plan, then?”

  She nodded. The idea had come to her over dinner, a way that they could intercede before Adam had a chance to carry out his own agenda.

  “I do,” she replied. “And it will work, but only if we can convince Adam that I need to go to my townhouse to prepare my own things. He wishes me to have my servants do it, but we must come up with some reason I must be the one … and if you insist you can escort me, then he might relent and allow me to leave. Please, Niall.”