A Dark Heart (19 page)

“Mr. Matthews said you don’t remember anything…” she began uncertainly.

How he wished that were still the case. “No. I remember now. Everything,”
he said hollowly.

She lifted her chin defiantly. “I gave you a choice, Elijah. I waited
until you were awake. You can’t blame me…”

This
was what she was worried about? That he’d be angry with her
for giving him her blood? After all that had happened that night? “I don’t
blame you. God, of course I don’t blame you,” he bit out hoarsely. “
I’m
sorry…”

She was the one to hold up a hand to halt his words this time. “Don’t,
Elijah. Don’t say you’re sorry, because I’m not. I’ve wanted …” She glanced
away, fidgeting, her face a deep crimson. “I
wanted
to … and it helped,
didn’t it?”

His flesh felt inflamed, his voice constricted, as images of her naked,
beneath him, joined with him, flashed through his head, leaking through his
wall of remorse.

She was right. It had helped. More than she would ever know. He couldn’t
remember a time in his life when he had slept without the nightmare haunting
him, with or without the drug. Possessing her, finding release with her, had
given him peace.

Peace.

And her blood had given him life.

“Yes,” he whispered.
God help him
.

“I’d do it again,” she said, suddenly close enough for him to reach out
and touch.

His heart leapt in his chest at her proximity, and his arousal stirred to
life once more with her words. He bowed his head in shame. “I never wanted to
hurt you, Ana, I’ll curse myself forever for taking you like that. Like a … a
savage.”

He felt her hand cupping his cheek, and he raised his head enough to meet
her eyes. They were swimming with unshed tears, and anguish ripped through him
at the sight. He tried to pull away from her, but she shook her head and raised
her other hand to his other cheek, laughing.

Laughing
. At such a dreadful moment.

She must have sensed his bewilderment, for she stubbornly held onto him. “I’m
crying because you called me Ana. That night, and now. For the first time in
decades
,”
she breathed. “And I’m laughing because you look
whole
again, Elijah. I
know you regret what happened, but I don’t. If it gave you peace and took away
your nightmares, I’d do it again,” she said with quiet conviction.

He shook his head miserably. Sorrow and longing washed over him at her
words, at the sight of her standing stubbornly before him, so certain she could
fix him.

But she had to get used to the truth once and for all.

“I may never get
well
, Ana,” he said softly.

Her brow creased and she bit her bottom lip to keep from betraying her
emotion, though he could see the turmoil in her eyes.

“But you … you don’t want to die any more, at least. Do you?”

He sucked in his breath, surprised by the question, and surprised by his
own sudden clarity of purpose. For all of his life, he’d been trying to hasten
his demise. He’d taken foolish risks as a policeman even before his encounter
with the Ripper, had pumped his body full of poison for years, chasing death.
He’d imagined it was the only way to stop hurting so much.

But looking into her eyes now, and clear-headed for the first time in a
decade, he finally understood what his death would do to Ana, what would happen
to her if he let the morphine claim him, or his quest for vengeance kill him.
He’d always doubted her feelings for him, but how could he doubt any longer?
She truly, deeply cared for him. She would mourn him if he died.

For the love of God, she’d given him her virginity, her lifeblood, and
not batted an eye.

He didn’t deserve her. But it seemed he had her. At least for now. And as
he stared down at her lovely, hopeful face, he realized something he probably
should have a long time ago. The reason he had pushed her away and flung
himself headlong into self-destruction was not because he was afraid of hurting
her.

No, the truth was that deep down he was afraid that
she
would hurt
him
.

She was so determined to fix him, so determined to see the best in him. But
if she ever discovered the truth … it would all be over. He didn’t think he
could survive her rejection – he
knew
he wouldn’t. If he let his
defenses down around her, if he let himself love her, his battered and bruised
heart could never survive her abandonment.

And abandon him she would. What sane person wouldn’t?

But damn him if he didn’t yearn for her, even knowing the inevitability
of their separation. Damn him if he wasn’t succumbing to her determined,
innocent seduction.

As if he’d
needed
to be seduced by her. He’d loved her unerringly
for decades. He’d never stop.

But he answered her with only half of the truth. “No, I don’t want to
die. I don’t want to hurt you any more than I already have.”

She surprised him by reaching for his hand and squeezing it. “You must
want to live for yourself, Elijah.”

“I don’t know if that’s possible,” he said honestly. “But can it not be
enough if I try to live … for you?”

She caught her breath and closed her eyes, damp around the edges now. He
clutched her hand tightly, never wanting to let her go.

“For now,” she murmured at last, wrapping her arms around his middle, as
if all of their problems were solved.

He knew they weren’t. But she was making it difficult to worry about that
at the moment. He nuzzled against her neck, inhaling that clean, roseate smell
of her skin, running his hands down the elegant length of her back, as the warm
heat of her body melted into his. He let himself forget everything else as he
sought her lips for a fierce kiss. Unlike that night, his fangs weren’t in the
way, and he could savor it as a normal man would.

“God, but you’re sweet,” he murmured, breaking the kiss, struggling for
control.

“Elijah, don’t stop…” she murmured, pulling his head back down for more.

He groaned. He wanted to plunder her mouth, her soft womanly parts. He
wanted to shove himself inside of her and stay there forever.

Shaking, he pulled away before he let himself give into her completely.

He was just in time, too, for the drawing room door suddenly slammed open,
bringing chaos in its wake. So much for his newly honed senses. When he’d been
in Ana’s arms, he’d been too distracted to pay heed to the rest of the world.
The Queen of England herself could have descended upon the townhouse and he
doubted he would have noticed.

He wished he had this time, however, for chaos came in the form of the
last person he wanted to catch him with Ana. It was the bloody Earl. He could
only thank hell that Rowan seemed too distracted by the squirming, foul-mouthed
bundle he carried over his shoulders to notice their improper embrace.

Ana jumped away from Elijah, flushing, and stared wide-eyed at her
brother. “What in heaven’s name, Rowan?” she demanded rather angrily.

Rowan glanced from Elijah to Ana, his expression inscrutable, and dodged
an errant kick from his captive. “I found this …
person
lurking outside.
Under the circumstances, I thought you might want to know who’s spying on you,”
he said dryly.

Elijah already knew Rowan’s captive. He’d remember that scent anywhere.
It was the Gentleman. Or rather, the woman who played that role.

“Let me go, you damned overgrown piece of sh…
Oh
!” the woman
shrieked with her American accent, as Rowan tossed her on top of a well-padded
couch. Her wide-brimmed hat fell from her head, sending a cascade of fiery red
curls falling well past her shoulders. She was so mad that her freckle-studded face
was nearly the same color as her hair. She wore the rough, dark clothes of an
East End ruffian, but unlike the chameleon-like Percy, there was no mistaking
her sex beneath her masculine attire. She was too … curvy, her heart-shaped face
too feminine. And that hair…

Well, no man had hair like that. He doubted he could find another woman who
did either. It was even brighter than the other two ginger-haired children’s
he’d saved that night. So bright it was almost blinding. And there was nothing
childlike about her, especially her foul tongue. He’d not even heard of half of
the insults that came out of her mouth.

Rowan was clearly shocked by what he’d hauled inside the townhouse as
well, for he stared down at the woman, slack-jawed and wide-eyed.

The woman looked ready to launch herself back at the Earl, cursing loud
enough to raise the dead, but when she finally locked eyes with the man who had
captured her, all the fight drained out of her. Her face went from apoplectic
to ghostly white, and her curses trailed into stunned silence.

“My God,” the woman said, raising a shaking, black-gloved hand in Rowan’s
direction. “My God!”

Rowan backed away from the woman before she could touch him. He turned to
Elijah for enlightenment. Elijah shrugged. He had no explanation for her baffling
reaction.

“It’s a woman,” Rowan said, rather dumbly.

“More precisely, she’s the Gentleman,” he said wryly.

Rowan looked at the woman with growing incredulity. “
You’re
the
jewel thief?”

“The one and only,” she said grimly, unable to take her eyes off Rowan.

“And I’d wager she’s also the one Brightlingsea is after,” Elijah
continued.

The woman’s face took on a stony cast, and she crossed her arms over her
chest, as if preparing for a long and tedious fight. “I don’t know what you’re
talking about.”

Rowan gave Elijah a startled look. “You think
she
is the one?”

He shrugged. “I’m fairly certain. Miss…”

“Bartholomew,” Ana supplied next to him.

“Miss Bartholomew, I believe you stole documents from a very powerful
man. You must tell us all you know before Brightlingsea catches up to you. And
trust me when I say you would
not
want that. He’s a very … tenacious
man.”

She snorted at the threat, quite recovered from whatever fright Rowan had
given her. “Should I be scared? I’ve been avoiding
tenacious
men for all
my life. What’s one more?”

“You can’t avoid Brightlingsea,” Rowan murmured.

“I could care less about your profession, if that is what holds you back,
or even that you stole from Brightlingsea,” Elijah said. “Once you tell me all
you know about O’Connor – particularly where we might find him –
you are free to go your own way.”

 “I could give a toss about those damned blueprints. And I wasn’t
spying
on you, by the way,” she said, sending a scathing look in Rowan’s direction. “I
have come to give you O’Connor, as a matter of fact. He’s who you want, isn’t
he?”

“Killing that bastard is what I live for,” Elijah said fiercely.

Ana glanced sharply at him, but he pretended not to see.

Miss Bartholomew finally met Elijah’s eyes, her expression filled with
grim resolve. “Then you are precisely the man I am looking for.”

FOR the rest
of the morning, Ana and the Earl filled him in on all they had learned about
O’Connor’s – and Ehrengard’s – interest in the Bartholomews, while
Hex Bartholomew was reunited with her family. Having Ehrengard’s identity all
but confirmed did not shock Elijah as much as it should have. It merely
reinforced his long-held suspicions and spoiled what remained of his rare good
mood.

At one point, Ana seemed to sense his plummeting spirits, for she grabbed
his hand where it rested on the settee they shared in the drawing room and
squeezed it tight. He was caught off guard by the possessive gesture, and so,
it seemed, were Rowan and Percy, who had appeared shortly after Hex
Bartholomew’s grand entrance. He was even more caught off guard by his own
body’s response, however. It felt rather lovely to hold Ana’s hand. So lovely
he didn’t even try to pull away at first, though he knew he was probably making
a damned fool of himself.

Percy certainly seemed to think so. When he raised his glance and saw her
glaring at their joined hands, his fleeting joy faded. Percy was understandably
furious with him, now that she knew everything he’d kept from her for years
– he’d gleaned her mood from the moment she strode into the room and
refused to look at him. But she seemed particularly resentful of Ana’s place by
his side.

He couldn’t blame her, for he couldn’t stop picturing Percy and her twin
brother reaching for each other that long-ago night. She’d not been able to
hold her brother’s hand, or save him from his awful fate. She hadn’t been able
to touch him at all, and she never would again. When Percy finally met his
eyes, he could tell she was remembering the same thing.

He pulled his hand away from Ana, and she glanced at him with confusion
and a touch of hurt. But he averted his eyes as if he’d not seen her look. He
knew he was being a coward, but the guilt and fear that had come along with the
memory was too strong even for her to overcome.

Already he could feel the distance between them growing, and he could do
nothing to stop it. The sad truth was that he could not give up his vendetta,
even for her, even though just the thought of once again chasing after O’Connor
made him want to vomit. The closer he came to O’Connor, the closer Ana came to
learning the truth – and the closer he was to losing her once and for all,
before he’d barely had her. He had already seen the questions in her eyes after
he’d vowed to kill O’Connor so vehemently to Hex Bartholomew, questions he did
not want to answer.

Restless, suffocated, already beginning to doubt the too-perfect truce he
and Ana had reached before Rowan had blundered in with the rest of the world, he
was relieved when he found an excuse to leave the townhouse. Miss Bartholomew informed
them that she was to meet with O’Connor himself that afternoon in Covent
Garden, and Elijah planned on being there.

Ana was not pleased to see him leave the townhouse, the disquiet in her
eyes hurting his heart and constricting his breath every time he risked a
glance her way. He’d been half afraid she’d insist on accompanying him, but Rowan
had forestalled any attempt in that direction by insisting on coming along
himself, which had seemed to ease Ana’s worries.

Elijah’s worries weren’t eased at all, however. He would have preferred
Brightlingsea’s
company to Rowan’s at the moment, as the two of them crossed London in a hired
hack with Hex Bartholomew. The cab was filled with a heavy silence, and Elijah
was loath to break it. He didn’t want to have the conversation he knew was
coming, ever since Rowan had walked in on their embrace that morning. And it
was
coming.

Bloody brilliant.

He tried to focus on the mission instead. Hex Bartholomew sat in the seat
opposite them, arms crossed over her chest and lips firmly sealed shut. Her
studied glare out the grimy window was punctuated every now and then by a covert
look in their direction – particularly Rowan’s direction.

Now that Elijah knew her history, the woman’s fixation on Rowan made more
sense to him. He supposed that she had every reason to be wary of men with
amber eyes, if she’d had dealings with Stieg Ehrengard.

“Did your sister explain to you exactly who has been pursuing you before
we left the townhouse today, Miss Bartholomew?” Rowan asked.

She looked Rowan in the eyes. “Yes,” she said flatly, scanning his face, as
if searching for something. “She did. I still can’t quite believe it. What you
are, and what that man is.” She shook her head in bemusement, though Elijah was
certain she was hiding something. “He was an … associate of my father’s when we
lived in Egypt. He didn’t call himself Ehrengard, however. Have
you
ever
been to Egypt, my Lord?”

Rowan was surprised by the question. “No.”

She looked frustrated by his answer and turned back to the window.

“Are you sure you don’t know where your father hid the documents, Miss
Bartholomew?” Rowan asked.

“No idea. If I did, I would have given them to O’Connor weeks ago, my
father be damned.”

She sounded sincere, but she’d hesitated for just a fraction of a second
before she’d spoken. It was enough to raise Elijah’s suspicions. The story
Helen Bartholomew had given to the others while he’d been unconscious had
plenty of holes in it, especially compared to the way he remembered events of
the night he’d nearly gotten himself killed. Those leeches hadn’t been after
any documents. They’d been after Hector Bartholomew.

“One thing I don’t understand, Miss Bartholomew, is why O’Connor sent two
of his best men after the lad,” he said.

She didn’t meet his eyes as she shrugged, and Elijah’s suspicions were
confirmed. She was definitely hiding something. “They were there for all of
us,” she hedged.

“No, I remember one of the leeches said that O’Connor wanted the boy
specifically. What aren’t you telling us, Miss Bartholomew?”

She set her jaw at an even more stubborn angle and stared out the window.
“Nothing, I hope,” she muttered.

“What does that mean?” Rowan pressed suspiciously.

“It means I hope my father didn’t do something even more foolhardy than
usual,” she retorted. “And that is all I’ll say for now until we talk to
O’Connor.”

“If you’re hiding something that could endanger the boy…” Rowan began.

“Everything I do is to protect him and the rest of my family,” she
retorted hotly, her face turning red with anger beneath her freckles, her eyes
flashing. “Who are
you
that I should tell you anything? You’re mistaken
if you think that I trust you any more than I trust O’Connor or that bastard he
works for.”

Rowan looked affronted by her angry response, but Elijah couldn’t blame
her. “You’re wise not to trust us, Miss Bartholomew. I hardly trust myself,
much less their lot,” he said, nodding in Rowan’s direction.

“I learned my lesson long ago in Egypt with
their lot
,” Miss
Bartholomew bit out. “All I want is Hester. Alive and well in my arms,” she
murmured, squeezing her eyes shut. “That is the only reason I am here now with
you.”

“I shall do everything within my power to find your sister and return her
to you unharmed,” Elijah said gruffly.

She gave a wry smile as her anger subsided. “I know
you
will.
After what you did to save us that night…” She shuddered. “Thank you for that,”
she said softly, a bit grudgingly. She didn’t seem the type to be comfortable
with giving thanks to anyone, any more than he was comfortable with
being
thanked.

He shrugged, also a bit grudgingly, and cleared his throat. “I couldn’t
let you … you were going to…”

She nodded, darkness shadowing her eyes. “I had no choice. A quick death
seemed preferable to what those leeches had in mind for my family,” she said
bluntly.

“Good thing it didn’t come to that, Miss Bartholomew,” Rowan said quietly.

She cast the Earl another searching look. “I would do anything, even
that,
to spare the ones I love a moment of pain.”

Rowan’s expression hardened. “
That
I can understand all too well,”
he murmured, glancing in Elijah’s direction significantly.

Elijah cringed inwardly and crossed his arms over his chest.
Bloody
hell
, there was no getting out of this awkward conversation now, unless he
leapt out of the hack, an option that was looking better and better with every
tense moment that passed.

“She loves you, you know,” Rowan said at last, without preamble.

Elijah shifted uncomfortably. There was no use in even pretending not to
know what Rowan was talking about. “That’s what she thinks.”

“No, she loves you, of that I have no doubt.” Rowan fixed him with an
unreadable gaze. “I can’t say it’s pleased me. I know you – as much as
anyone can know you, I suspect. And despite what you might think of yourself,
you are a decent man. But are you worthy of Christiana? Absolutely not. You’re
much too…”

“Common?” he said mockingly.

Rowan rolled his eyes. “I don’t give a damn where you come from. Harkers
cast their eyes where they like, the world be damned. We’re too powerful and
rich to be gainsaid by anyone. Tia could choose a dung collector, for all I
care, so long as she is loved as she deserves.”

Hex Bartholomew snorted at Rowan’s words. Rowan glared at her before he
continued. “I was going to say you have too many ghosts, Elijah. You and I both
know it. And frankly, with recent events, I sincerely don’t know if you can
pull yourself out of whatever black hole you’ve fallen into. I don’t want you taking
Tia down with you. That is my concern.”

“She’ll figure out she’s better off without me soon enough,” he muttered.

“Are you so sure of that?”

He barely suppressed a groan of frustration. What did Rowan want from
him? His heart on a skewer? “I don’t intend to take her along where I’m going.
I agree she deserves better. You needn’t worry I’ll do anything so selfish as
try to keep her.”

Rowan smiled wryly. “Ah, yes, well, that’s the thing. You see, my fear is
that you
won’t
keep her.”

Elijah froze.
What
?

“If I know Tia, I know she’ll settle for nothing less than all of you.
And a damned bloody ring on her finger,” Rowan continued. “And so will I.”

Elijah searched for some way to respond to that, but he was too shocked.
Rowan
wanted
him to marry her?

“You can’t be serious,” Elijah finally managed to ground out.

Rowan merely arched a brow. “Oh, I’m dead serious, Elijah. You’re going
to marry Lady Christiana, and you’re going to do your damned best to make her
happy for the rest of your long, long life together.”

“You’re insane,” Elijah said incredulously.

“In thirty years, I’ve not seen Tia as happy as she was this morning,”
Rowan said. “And I know it’s because you and she…” He cleared his throat,
flushing a bit. “Well, whatever has happened between you clearly requires an
honorable declaration on your part.”

Hex Bartholomew snorted again. So did Elijah. He would be amused by
Rowan’s prudish discomfort if the cause of that discomfort weren’t so …
heartbreaking. “You’re such a fossil, Rowan. It isn’t the fifteenth bloody
century anymore.
Honorable declaration
. For fuck’s sake,” he said
dismissively.

Rowan’s jaw set, his body tensed beneath his fine jacket, and his amber
eyes flashed. “Are you
refusing
to marry Lady Christiana, Elijah?” he
asked in a dangerous tone of voice that reminded Elijah of Brightlingsea in a
snit.

Elijah decided that there was no use in hiding the truth. “I’d marry her
in a second, if she’d have me,” he said fiercely. “But she won’t. She’ll learn
the truth soon enough, and she’ll regret ever having had anything to do with
me.”

Rowan’s anger faded, replaced by a look that Elijah could only call
pitying. “Damn it, Elijah, is that what you believe?” Rowan asked. “Is that what
the last bloody decade has been about?”

Elijah turned away from Rowan and stared unseeingly out of the hack’s
window, his arms tucked tight against his sides. He wished he’d never said
anything. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Rowan looked as if he might say more, then thought better of it, shaking
his head and relaxing against the seat. His glare said they weren’t done with the
conversation by a long shot, but Elijah ignored him as best he could for the
rest of the journey.

The thought of finally confronting O’Connor certainly did not hold its
usual allure, and when they arrived at Covent Garden a large part of him didn’t
even want to leave the hack. How he wished he could go back to the moment when
he’d stood in Ana’s warm embrace, sheltered from the rest of the world. He’d
have gladly stopped time. He didn’t want to return to reality. He didn’t want
to face the appalling muddle his life had become. He didn’t
want
to be
reminded of all of the secrets he still kept from Ana – secrets that would
take her from him forever.

Yet suddenly he was standing on a busy street corner with Rowan and Miss
Bartholomew, gazing over the unruly throng gathered for market day. He
immediately spotted a few of O’Connor’s men lurking in the crowd, their
attention riveted on the Earl.
Leeches
. He gripped his walking cane a
little tighter and followed Miss Bartholomew along the fringes of the market
until they arrived at the entrance to a side alley. A crooked, ancient wooden
sign with the words
The Iron Hart
swung over the doorway to a
basement-level tavern, and he spotted four more of O’Connor’s leeches on the
rooftops overlooking the alley. They made no move to attack, however.

For the first time since they’d left the townhouse, Elijah was glad Rowan
had bullied his way into accompanying them. He turned to Miss Bartholomew.
“I’ve a feeling O’Connor had no intention of letting you walk away from this
meeting.”