by Wendy Vella
“Don’t try and flatter me, Mr. Dillinger.”
His bark of laughter made Luke turn toward him with a raised brow. “Most people would think my words an insult, my lady.
“Yet I am not most people.” She looked up at him. “And I should like to also point out, that your little story about you and the Earl’s daughter has tainted your view of people, Sir, especially women of noble birth.”
“I cannot apologize for viewing the world the way I do, my lady, but let me assure you my opinions are not formed without many experiences.”
“Where as mine are not?”
“Do you always leap to conclusions, Lady Althea?”
“Yes, especially when I know I’m right,” she added.
“And you called me arrogant,” Ace whispered as they entered the dining room. She’d heard him, he knew, because her lips twitched, but chose not to comment further. Lady Althea then took her seat and Ace found his, which was to her right. She turned immediately and started conversing with the man to her left. Sir Hugh Coulter, and he felt the ugly bite of jealousy.
He ate his beef ragout and attempted to converse with the shy lady to his right while Lady Althea giggled in reply to something Sir Hugh said. Ace thought that was possibly the first time he’d heard the sound. It was frivolous and light-hearted and he suddenly wanted her to giggle at something he’d said. God, he was pathetic.
He was a bloody hard-headed businessman, not some mewling whelp hanging on a woman’s skirts, Ace thought. He needed to get himself back under control, and stop lusting after someone he could never have.
He tried to ignore her and refused to listen to the conversation that was taking place, although he did hear snatches of names he had never heard of, people who were lord this and lady the other. This was the kind of man she should be with, a man from her sphere. Why, then, did it irritate him she was talking to Sir Hugh?
“I’m sorry.” He said the words when the fourth course was placed before him.
She turned so quickly that her face was inches from his, and his eyes were drawn to her lips. The bottom was fuller than the top, and from experience, he knew they were soft.
“For what?”
“Calling you arrogant.”
“Yet I called you that and more. Therefore, surely it is me who should be apologizing, Mr. Dillinger?”
“Oh, now this should be good,” Ace said, watching her face. It was alive, her eyes bright, lips tilted. “Please go ahead and apologize, my lady.” Ace held his hand out toward her.
“I am not apologizing!” she said, indignant now. “It is you that tarred me with the same brush as the earl’s daughter and believe all people of noble birth are spoilt and untrustworthy.”
“Actually, I never said that, and I respect your brothers very much,” he said, feeling his good humor return now she was talking to him.
“I’ll rephrase that then to say it is your belief all women of noble birth are spoilt and untrustworthy?”
“I bet you were hell to grow up with,” Ace found himself saying, and was pleased he did when she tried not to laugh.
“I had two elder brothers, Mr. Dillinger. I could not afford to be anything but hell.”
Ace had a powerful need to take this woman in his arms and ravish her. He wanted to loosen the bodice of that pretty dress and lower it and her undergarments to the floor, then start at her toes and make his way upwards, stopping to kiss every inch of her on the way.
“I apologize for tarring you with the same brush as the earl’s daughter,” he conceded. “And yes, I can be untrusting sometimes...actually, often.”
She turned back to her meal, pushed some roast fowl onto her fork and placed it in her mouth. Ace watched as she chewed, then swallowed. The woman wasn’t that beautiful. He’d seen prettier, so why was he enthralled by her? The elegant line of her throat and small curve of her chin, it all intrigued him, and he shouldn’t be intrigued. It would get him nowhere to be so.
“I’m still waiting for your apology, my lady,” he added. She did not answer immediately and he knew she was mulling over what she wanted to say.
“I forgive you for your snobbery, Mr. Dillinger.”
“I am not a snob,” Ace snorted. “A man born in the same bed as his eight siblings, to a coal miner, cannot be a snob.”
She placed another mouthful of food in her mouth, and then rapped him on the knuckles with her fork before returning it to her plate to load it with more food.
“It’s called reverse snobbery, Mr. Dillinger, and may I say you have it in spades. Aces of spades,” she said, then giggled softly at her attempt at humor.
“Very amusing, but I am not a snob, reverse or otherwise,” he added.
“The fact you feel the need to reiterate your humble beginnings constantly to strengthen any argument suggests to me you are.”
Ace didn’t like people challenging him, especially if they may have a point. However, he would never concede that to this woman. He had the feeling if he did, it would be the beginning of the end.
“You and your brothers debated a lot, didn’t you, Lady Althea? And I would add to that they indulged you a great deal.”
“I’m not spoilt, Mr. Dillinger, merely challenging.”
Ace placed a fork full of food in his mouth and chewed slowly. She made him want to gnash his teeth and laugh at the same time. He’d never met a woman like her.
“Tell me your darkest day, Mr. Dillinger.”
“I beg your pardon?” Ace swallowed, then looked at her to give himself time to adjust to the change in conversation. The woman had a sharp mind and he was more than able to keep pace with her conversational changes; however, this was not a subject he was keen to venture into. She didn’t repeat the question, simply looked at him, and he could feel her eyes burning into the side of his face as he was now looking forward while he picked up his wine glass.
“Mr. Dillinger, you told me when last we met…” She didn’t mention where, thankfully, however he would not put it past her to do so. Lady Althea did not seem overly fond of keeping her reputation intact. “That your darkest day would be darker than mine, so I’m now giving you the opportunity to prove that point.”
He was there in that ring suddenly, watching the lifeless eyes of the man he had killed looking up at him, and then he flashed to the street, and it was him lying there with blood pouring from his body, death only minutes away…or so he had believed.
Chapter Five
“Forgive me. It was not my intention to cause you pain by questioning you of such things, and yet I can see I have.” Thea lowered her hand to where his now hung at his side, the large fingers clenched tight into a fist, and placed hers over his.
“It is my need to always win the point, Mr. Dillinger. If I find I am not leading the conversation then I move to another and the challenge begins anew. It is another character flaw, I’m afraid.” She laughed, but it was forced and he did not join her.
When would she learn to guard her tongue and not speak without careful thought?
Shooting him a quick glance, she noted his face was calm yet his teeth were clenched, causing the muscles in his jaw to work furiously. What memory had stirred such a reaction in him?
“Please…I-I am indeed sorry for causing you distress, Oliver.”
His eyes looked down to the hand she had on top of his, then his fingers opened briefly to engulf hers in a warm grip, before releasing them.
“I am not distressed, my lady, but merely thinking of which moment to pick as there are a few.”
She heard a hint of an accent and wondered where it originated from, but did not feel she could ask after what she had just done to him. Looking around the table, she noted everyone was chatting and eating, and wondered how no one had noticed the intensity of what was taking place between her and Oliver Dillinger. The sudden tension in his body was palpable. Just minutes ago they had been debating, he teasing her, and she challenging him. It had been exhilarating, and now he was so still, his b
ody tense.
“M-my darkest day was really two days,” Thea said quietly. She wanted to tell him, even if he thought hers were pitiful compared to his. “My parents went out in their carriage and never came home, and I remember when my brother Joseph came to tell me of their deaths. It was then I knew that my last words to them had been spoken in anger, those of a spoilt child, and I could never take them back.
Their hands still hung next to each other, so he brushed his knuckles over the back of her hand—such a small gesture, it could have been an accident, and yet she felt comforted.
“What did you say to them?” He picked up his fork and started eating as if they were discussing the weather.
“That they were horrid parents for not taking me with them, and I would never forgive them,” Thea whispered. “I then walked away from my father when he asked me to kiss him goodbye.”
“Children say such things all the time, my lady. It would have done nothing to diminish the love they felt for you or yours for them.”
Thea took a deep breath and rubbed the back of his knuckles with her own before taking a large mouthful of wine. Just that small contact and she felt it through her body.
“I know what you say is true, Mr. Dillinger, but I also know the last words I said to my parents were filled with spite.”
They moved apart as servants brought the next course of food, and Thea took the precious seconds to regain her composure. Thinking about that day always made her feel weepy, even many years later.
“What was your second day?”
His voice was deep and sent a shiver down her spine. Why did this man intrigue her so much? Why him when there were so many others who should interest her, yet did not? He was handsome yes, but it was a fierce handsomeness, almost savage. He wore the clothes of gentleman, yet underneath she could feel the passion he held leashed, the wildness of the man he had once been.
Looking at their hands once again hanging beside each other, she shivered. His was so big, two of his fingers matched one of hers. He had tamed himself into a gentleman, but Thea was sure there were many remnants of the man who had fought his way to become the person who sat beside her today.
Her brothers had told her a few things, as had Luke and Bella, yet she did not know of his past, only that he was the son of a miner and fought with his bare hands to gain his fierce reputation. But what about the years following, the ones until he had become the Oliver Dillinger he was right now?
“The day Will left and did not return for many years,” Thea said in answer to his question. “He told me he must leave and had no notion of when he would return. I begged him to stay yet he simply hugged me hard, told me he loved me, and left.”
They sat in silence for a while, both deep in thought as around them food and wine were consumed, and conversation flowed. Thea could still remember the pain at Will’s leaving, she could feel the hollow ache in her chest, the desolation that he was gone and she knew not when he would return.
“I actually had nine siblings, but my youngest sister, Beth, died in my arms. That was a dark day, Lady Althea. Watching a part of you suffer and slowly die, and know there is nothing you can do to keep her alive. You never truly recover from that, you always carry a small part of that pain inside you.”
“Oh, no.” Thea turned his fist where it still hung beside her hand and gently worked his fingers open and then slid hers inside. She gripped them hard, squeezing whatever comfort she could into him. “Dear God, to have seen such a thing…I cannot find any words to say to you. To offer my sympathy does not seem enough, Sir, yet you have it just the same.”
“It’s all right. It was many years ago and I should not have—”
“No, do not take those words back. They were honest and true. Never be sorry for that, Mr. Dillinger.” She looked at his hard profile as he stared down at his plate. He hid so much inside that head—pain, suffering, so much she knew he had shared with no one. Thea felt an uncontrollable urge to cry. The tears burned in the back of her eyes and she had to sniff and breathe in deeply to stop them falling.
“Lady Althea, please—”
“No!” she whispered the word furiously. “You will not apologize again to me for telling me about your little sister, nor for telling me what I asked of you. I will not break from hearing such a story. It was real and sad, and what I am feeling now is for the child you were when this happened and the sorrow you still feel, but also for the young life who never knew what it was to be held by a mother or brother, to never laugh or cry.” Thea sniffed again and reached for her glass. Taking a fortifying sip, she once again picked up her fork and began to eat, although now everything tasted like dust.
Her hand stayed inside his for a while longer and then he squeezed her fingers and released them and she wanted to cry all over again. He was a dangerous man, Oliver Dillinger, and one if she was not careful who would steal her heart. She needed to remember that before it was too late.
…
“This beast has tried to take several large bites out of me already, and we have only been riding for thirty minutes.” Ace glared at the horse.
“He is our most docile animal; perhaps it is your odor that is unsettling him, Dillinger.”
“So help me God, Hetherington, I will plant my fist in your face if you provoke me again,” Ace snarled. “I do not smell!”
They had convinced him to learn to ride. Alexander and Benjamin Hetherington had told him it would be beneficial for a man of his position, to not have to rely on traveling in a carriage. Horses can pass where carriages cannot, they’d said. Just think of the convenience.
Muttering several unflattering curses about their parentage beneath his breath, he tried to sit upright and stop hunching. Ace didn’t hunch…ever. He’d been aware from an early age people were intimidated by him, but hunching didn’t lessen that, so he stood tall just as his parents had instructed him to.
“Are you sure I am not too big for this animal, Hetherington?”
“No,” they replied in unison.
It was early; the sun had yet to rise fully in the sky, and cold. Ace could feel the tips of his ears going numb as he trotted around in a large circle and the Hetherington twins watched and offered instructions, usually laced with insults. They were enjoying themselves at his expense.
“Heels down, Ace.”
“You’re bouncing. Try to relax, Ace.”
As one stopped the other started; they were relentless and he was reaching the end of his patience.
“Shut up, you are giving me too many instructions at once.”
The problem was Ace liked to do things well, and until he had mastered something he learnt in private so only he could see the mistakes he was making. He did not like to be ridiculed nor humiliated, and most definitely not in front of two gentlemen.
“You are not a bird, Ace. For pity’s sake, stop flapping your elbows,” Alex said, ignoring his command for them to shut up.
“I’ve seen children with a better seat,” Ben said loudly.
“I will be off this horse shortly, Hetherington, and back in the ring with you as my opponent,” Ace snarled. “And I have a very long memory.”
“Well, I think that’s extremely ungrateful. Don’t you, Alex?”
Ace drew his eyes away from the horse’s neck long enough to shoot them a look that would have felled all the trees in England, only to see the twins nudging each other and laughing. They were enjoying this and he would be sure to extract revenge when the right moment arose.
“Ace, try a canter now. Just touch your heels gently to the horse’s sides and it will spring forward,” Alex said.
“I don’t want it to spring forward.”
“You can’t walk and trot the entire length of England, Dillinger, so give it a go. There’s a good man.”
Ace was frustrated; he could usually master anything. However, this riding business was proving more difficult than he had anticipated, and he was fast coming to the realization that traveling in a carr
iage was the best way for him to move about England. Alex and Ben were his friends, yet he still felt uncomfortable creating a spectacle of himself in front of them.
“Just a light touch of your heels to the horse’s flanks, Ace, and it shall all go well. You shall see,” Alex instructed.
“I think not. In fact, I think I have given you both enough entertainment. Therefore, I concede. Riding is not for me.” As Ace said the words, he heard a horse thundering over the ground toward them.
“Hold him steady, Ace!” This cry was from Ben. “Dear Christ, what was that?” Alex added.
Ace’s horse whinnied, then it reared up on its hind legs.
“Hold the mane and learn forward, Ace!”
Ace lunged for the horse’s neck, gripping the mane with both hands at Alex’s words, and then the horse righted itself.
“For the love of God, man, don’t dig your heels in!”
Ace heard Ben’s words as his horse started galloping. He tried to reach the reins but they were flapping about and to get them, he had to release the grip he had on the mane, which was definitely not an option.
He watched the ground fly by, saw his body lying broken and bleeding and wondered if his life would end here, at the hands of this cursed animal. After the life he’d led, the fighting and numerous other dangerous activities he’d participated in, to be brought down by a horse doing something he hated seemed wrong…of course, he’d be dead so it should not bother him, but it did.
“Stop, you bloody beast!” he roared as anger and fear battled for dominance. He saw the trees and then he was flying under them, crouched low over the neck as the branches tore at this hair. His hat was dislodged, his hair freed, and coming out the other side he saw a small pond ahead and wondered if he would end up in it, and then suddenly the horse stopped and Ace did not.
He landed with a thump and felt the breath leave his body. Taking a few moments to draw it back in, he then sat upright, shaking his head to clear it. Pain didn’t bother him overly. After all, he’d experienced his fair share of it over the years, but his pride was now sorely bruised.
