Betrayed by Your Kiss (12 page)

Damn him for coming here. Damn him for choosing tonight to show the world he was still alive. Damn the luck that he’d discovered that Rolland was going to announce their betrothal tonight.

She didn’t know how he’d found out. But her mind didn’t have to travel far to realize half the household staff probably knew what was afoot. It was impossible to keep a secret of this magnitude, and she should have known he was too adept at sticking his nose into her business to miss her plan.

Olivia locked her gaze with Damien’s and saw a victorious gleam in his eyes. He thought he’d won. Thought he’d left her with no choice but to come to him as the long lost love of her life. Damn him.

Damn him!

Olivia cast Rolland a hasty look of regret, then turned and walked toward the open patio doors. People stepped aside to let her pass as she walked with regal aloofness through the crowd. She needed to escape. Needed to get far away from Damien and the chaos he’d caused. Needed to be where Rolland’s look of betrayal didn’t burn through her heart.

Olivia made her way across the flagstone patio and down the steps that led away from the house. She turned to the left rather than follow the path that would take her to the same spot where she and Rolland had been earlier.

Trees and bushes blurred past her as she made her way farther from the house.

“Olivia!”

Her heart pounded in her breast, and tears streamed down her cheeks.

“Olivia, stop!”

The path split. One way led to a wooden gazebo, the other to a small lake. She unconsciously chose the path to the gazebo and picked up speed to escape him.

Leaves and flowers swam around her as tears blurred her vision. She stumbled and would have fallen if Damien’s strong fingers hadn’t clasped her arm and steadied her. He brought her to a halt, then turned her around and pulled her to him.

Olivia wrenched his hands off her with as much force as she could gather, and stepped away from him. “Get away from me.”

“That’s enough, Olivia.”

“Leave me alone!”

“I can hardly leave you alone. All of Society is waiting with bated breath for me to rescue you and bring you back inside. They are all convinced you ran because the shock of seeing the man you were once engaged to marry was too much for you.”

“I’m not going back inside with you. I won’t—”

“Enough!”

Olivia heard the anger in Damien’s voice and forced herself to stay rooted to the spot. Forced her gaze to remain locked with his. Every instinct warned her to step away from him. To look away from him.

“Is it true? Did you really intend to announce your betrothal to Rotham tonight?”

“Yes!”

Olivia saw the muscles in Damien’s jaw clench. Through sheer force of will she didn’t back down when he stepped closer, but held her ground.

“Does he realize you won’t bring Pellingsworth Shipping with you?”

Olivia bristled with anger. “Yes. And he wants me anyway.”

Even in the dark, she saw the fury darken his visage, turning his eyes from midnight blue to nearly black. The hard tone of his voice left little doubt as to his temperament.

“You would give up Pellingsworth Shipping?” he asked incredulously.

“Gladly!”

He stepped back as if she’d slapped him. “Then I’m glad I arrived when I did. I saved Rotham from embarrassing himself by announcing his betrothal to a woman who’s already promised to another man.”

Olivia breathed past the tightness in her chest. “Any promise I gave you was nullified the moment you made the decision to let me believe you were dead.”

Anger flashed in his eyes and without warning, Damien reached out and grasped her shoulders. “You won’t marry anyone but me, Olivia. You’re mine. Mine!”

Olivia tried to twist out of his arms, but he held her tighter. She opened her mouth to demand he release her, but before she could utter the first word, his mouth came down on hers.

His kiss was hard and demanding, his lips grinding against hers with unyielding fierceness.

Olivia tried to turn her head, but he refused to let her go. One of Damien’s arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer. The other reached around her back at the shoulders, his hand moving upward to cup the back of her head, making it impossible for her to turn away from him.

His fingers raked through her hair, loosening the pins and letting them drop to the ground. Her hair cascaded down her back in wild disarray, as wild as the emotions raging through her.

She tried again to twist out of his arms, but he kissed her again, his kisses relentlessly consuming. He wanted so much, demanded so much, took so much. And Olivia knew if she gave in to him for even one second, she’d be lost.

She fought him as long as she could, but her efforts were as futile as they’d been when he’d kissed her before. Her resolve weakened and a visceral fire fanned deep inside her. She knew if she didn’t stop him now it would be too late. She made one last valiant attempt.

She flattened her palms and pushed against his chest, but her efforts only increased his determination. He held her tighter and deepened his kisses.

She moaned, whether a feeble attempt to scream for help or a result of the passion building inside her she wasn’t sure, but he opened his mouth over hers and took in the sound.

“You’re mine,” he whispered, lifting his mouth. “Mine.” Then he lowered his mouth over hers again and ground his lips against hers. And her body betrayed her.

She wanted him, needed him, would die without what he was giving her. She was on fire, completely consumed by a raging inferno and each kiss only stoked the fire. She molded against him as if she were part of him, wrapped her arms around him in an effort to get closer. And he took advantage of her weakness. He thrust his tongue into her mouth with only one goal in mind—to dominate. To conquer. To control.

And he succeeded.

His mouth possessed hers while his hands moved over her, down her back, over her hips, cupping her backside and tucking her close against him.

Olivia was past thinking, past possessing the strength to fight him, or having the willpower to resist him. And deep inside her, she knew she didn’t want to. She didn’t want him to ever stop kissing her. Didn’t want him to stop touching her. She wound her arms around his neck and gave in to him.

Their kisses turned desperate, their passion a wild frenzy of taste and touch and feel. Olivia gave in to what Damien wanted, what he demanded; and she took with equal abandon. Took until neither of them could breathe on their own. Until the very feel of him touching her, holding her, cupping her breast, moving over her flesh caused a thousand explosions to erupt inside her like a magnificent fireworks display. At that moment, with his hands working their magic on her body and his mouth taking her to the edge of sanity, she knew she’d lost.

With her arms wrapped around him and her mouth pressed against his, she gave way to the despair and faced the realization that she’d given up everything she swore she’d never let him have. She’d allowed him to use her body to destroy her soul.

That thought caused a cry to go up from the very depths of her being. A cry of desperation, of defeat.

She grew limp in his arms, her arms no longer clinging to him in wild abandon, but hanging at her side. Her mouth no longer seeking his kisses with insatiable need. Her body no longer alive at his touch.

Olivia knew the moment Damien realized she was no longer carried away by her emotions. He lifted his mouth from hers and looked down at her. Then, with a tenderness that surprised her, he wiped the tears that spilled from her eyes.

“You’re mine, Olivia,” he gasped, his voice raspy from the demands of their kisses. “Mine.”

Olivia wanted to argue, but how could she when she remembered how effortlessly he could possess her? When she remembered how quickly she lost control of her determination to fight him? When she remembered what a willing partner she’d been even though she swore otherwise.

Olivia shrugged out of his arms and turned in desperation to get away from him. Then stopped short.

Rolland stood on the walk just a few feet away from them, a spectator to her blatant betrayal.

His face was void of expression, and only the clenched firmness of his jaw and the tight fists at his side gave any evidence of what he might be feeling.

Olivia fought the panic building inside her. “Rolland, it’s not—”

Rolland held up his hand to stop her words. With a proud lift of his chin, he said, “It’s all right, Olivia. I see you’ve made your choice.”

Then he turned and walked away from her.

And Olivia knew her future had been sealed.

Chapter 15

Damien hovered in the shadows while he waited outside the Lady’s Knight, one of London’s most renowned gaming hells. A hall well known for having made paupers out of more than one of Society’s wealthiest nobility. His cousin Brian, numbered among those currently losing money, expected Damien’s mother to repay his debts.

This wasn’t how Damien had imagined confronting his cousin, nor was tonight the time he’d chosen to make an appearance. But Brian had taken advantage of Damien’s mother long enough. And Damien no longer had an excuse to keep his identity hidden. Olivia had taken that out of his hands when she’d forced him to make an appearance at the Fortinier ball.

Blast! She actually planned to marry someone else! She was prepared to give up her ships rather than take him as her husband.

Damien mopped at the cold sweat that had gathered on his forehead. He couldn’t believe how close he’d come to losing her. If Chivers hadn’t inadvertently let it slip that the house was in turmoil because of the mistress’s upcoming wedding announcement, he’d have never known what was taking place until it was too late. It was a miracle he’d walked in when he had.

Damien rubbed his thigh and leaned his hip against a wooden crate in the alley where he’d been hiding, then breathed a harsh sigh. Damn her! Didn’t she know he’d never give her up? Didn’t she know she was his? He’d spent every hour of the last four years dreaming of her. Dreaming of holding her in his arms, of kissing her, and having her beneath him. Of being inside her.

Damn him for the fool he was, but he wanted her. Wanted her more now than he had before she’d betrayed him. And she’d belong to no one but him. Never. Even if he never let himself love her, he couldn’t deny he desired her.

Damien raked his fingers through his hair and looked at the door to the Lady’s Knight. He wished his cousin would get the hell out of there. Damien was itching for a fight. And every minute the wastrel spent inside darkened Damien’s mood. It had been more than three hours now, and the carousing blackguard would be lucky if Damien didn’t kill him for what he was doing.

The door to the Lady’s Knight opened and Damien studied the men leaving. It had been a long time since he’d seen his cousin, nearly four years to be exact, but Damien had watched him for two days now, and other than his cousin aging slightly, he hadn’t changed much. Damien looked at each of the men and breathed a sigh of frustration. None of the men leaving were him.

He settled back onto the crate and waited. And let his mind travel to how he’d left Olivia just hours earlier.

He’d taken her out of the Fortinier’s garden by a back gate, her hair still hanging loose, the bodice of her gown torn where he’d pulled at it. And her face void of expression. She’d followed him without a word, as if the shock of seeing Rotham walk away from her had stolen her ability to speak.

Was she in love with Rotham? Surely she couldn’t be. Surely her betrayal didn’t include that, too.

A fresh wave of fury washed over Damien as strong as a tidal wave crashing to shore, leaving only destruction in its path. He needed to get this over with and get back to her. She was his. She’d said herself she’d always known it. She once told him that she’d loved him from the day her father had brought him to live with them. She’d spoken the words just before Strathern had destroyed their lives. And if what happened each time he kissed her was any indication, nothing had changed.

Damien pushed himself away from the crate and raked his fingers through his hair in frustration. He looked up as the door to the Lady’s Knight opened, and his cousin walked out. From his unsteadiness as he staggered down the walk, he wasn’t going home sober.

Damien watched him stop to light a cigar before he crossed the street toward him. Damien waited in the shadows until his cousin was close, then stepped out of the alley and grabbed him none too gently by the collar. Before Brian could steady himself, Damien shoved him into the alley and threw him up against the side of the building. Brian reached into his pocket and Damien clamped his hand down on his cousin’s wrist.

“I wouldn’t try it,” Damien whispered, pushing his forearm upward beneath his cousin’s chin.

“What do you want?” Brian sputtered, still struggling, but not so much anymore. “If it’s money, you’re too late. I don’t have as much as a crown left.”

“And you’re about to lose even more, Brian.”

Damien’s cousin stiffened. “How do you know my name? I’ve never seen you before in my—”

Damien pushed himself away and stood his full height. He moved to where the bright moonlight would help light his face and glared at his cousin. It only took a moment before Brian’s jaw dropped and his eyes widened. Then he tipped his head back and laughed.

“I don’t believe it! You’ve returned.”

“Obviously,” Damien answered.

His cousin laughed again. “Just my luck. I would have bet you’d never return.”

“Well, you lost your bet. And the streak of wild spending you’ve done at my expense has come to an end.”

Damien stepped forward, just enough to let his menacing height and breadth intimidate his cousin. “You have until noon tomorrow to remove yourself and your belongings from my mother’s home and leave London.”

Damien’s cousin staggered. “And my debts?”

“I’ll cover them if you’re gone before noon. If you’re not, I’ll let your creditors take payment from your hide.”

Damien spun away from Brian. The sight of his wastrel cousin turned his stomach.

Damien had only taken a step away from Brian when he heard a shuffling of feet. His cousin was an idiot. He wasn’t smart enough to take the gift Damien had offered him and run as fast as his drunken body could carry him. Instead, he thought to challenge him. As if someone who hadn’t done an honest day’s work in his lifetime was any kind of match for a man who’d spent the last four years laboring aboard a ship.

Borne from instinct, Damien pulled the knife he kept in his pocket and turned. He slashed it through the air in a downward arc that caught Brian across the bicep. With lightning speed, Damien grabbed his cousin by both arms and threw him against the side of the nearest building. “Get the hell out of my sight before I kill you.”

“You’re a madman,” his cousin hissed.

Damien glared at his cousin as long as he could stand the sight of him, then released him and let him slide to the ground.

Damien walked over to his driver. After stepping into his carriage, he tapped his walking stick to the ceiling, and the carriage lurched forward.

Damien leaned back against the cushions. Something bothered him about his appearance at the Fortinier ball, and about his confrontation just now with his cousin, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. Something wasn’t right, but he didn’t have time to spend thinking about it. He had other, more important things he needed to do.

He closed his eyes and rubbed his aching thighs while he formulated a list of items to take care of. He needed to meet with his solicitor first thing in the morning, then send someone to the country with a message for his steward to come to London right away. He didn’t have time to visit the estates in person, at least not until after he was married, so he’d have to rely on Henry Lockling to give him a report of everything that needed to be taken care of. Then, he and Olivia would go to the country, and he’d have plenty of time to repair and care for everything that had been neglected over the last four years.

He thought of what condition the estates were probably in and his anger toward Olivia intensified. It was her fault he hadn’t been here to care for the land and the people.

A myriad of emotions twisted and turned inside him, and Damien suddenly realized what was at the heart of the anger he harbored for Olivia. His
pride.
She’d assumed responsibility for him and taken away his choices. By sending him away, she’d made him appear a coward. Why couldn’t she have trusted him enough to let him fight his own battle?

He had to admit that although he wanted to hate her for what she’d done, he couldn’t. He still had feelings for her. His blood raced every time he held her in his arms. His body reacted each time he kissed her, and deep inside, he knew he still loved her. He just wasn’t sure he could ever forgive her for what she’d done.

The carriage slowed and he was glad the ride was over; he didn’t want to have to consider what exactly he felt for Olivia any longer.

Damien stepped out of the carriage and walked aboard the
Princess Anne
. It was late, and he knew Captain Durham was no doubt asleep, but he needed answers to too many questions that only Captain Durham might have. He didn’t knock when he reached the captain’s cabin, but walked in.

It didn’t take long after Damien lit a lamp for the captain to wake.

“What the . . . ?”

“I need to talk to you.”

Captain Durham sat upright in his bunk and swung his legs over the side of the bed. “At this hour?” he said, not caring that his nightshirt rode up around his thighs.

“It’s important.”

Captain Durham raked his fingers through his graying hair. “It had better be. I just got to sleep. I was keeping watch in case whoever’s causing trouble tried again tonight.”

“Did they?”

“No. It was quiet.”

Damien pushed a chair closer to the bed and sat. “I had an interesting day.”

“You woke me to tell me about your day?” the captain bellowed.

“Yes.” Damien stretched his legs and rubbed his thighs. “I went to see Mother this morning. She’s in London with my sister. She brought Penelope for her Season.”

“How delightful,” the captain answered, his voice filled with sarcasm. “And is your sister enjoying her Season?”

“I didn’t wake you to talk about my sister’s Season.”

“You didn’t?” The captain’s mouth opened in a gaping yawn. “Oh, then it must be to tell me what cakes and little sandwiches your mother served with tea.”

“Hardly,” Damien answered. “It’s to tell you her reaction when she saw me.”

“What? She wasn’t glad to see you?”

“Of course she was glad to see me. She was surprised that I was home.”

“Then what’s your problem, lad?”

“My problem is that she was surprised that I’d returned, but she wasn’t surprised that I was alive. And, she did a damn good job of scolding me for staying away so long.” Damien paused. “She treated me as if she hadn’t heard that I was dead.”

The captain got to his feet and crossed the cabin. When he reached a cupboard on the other side of the small room, he opened a door and pulled out a bottle. He poured a little of the amber liquid in a glass and took a swallow. “She’s your mother, lad. Maybe she’d heard that you were dead, but just refused to believe it.”

Damien watched the captain’s features change. After four years of being with Captain Durham every day, he knew when he was hiding something. “Then tonight I made an appearance at the Fortinier ball.”

Captain Durham took another swallow from his glass. “I bet that caused quite a stir.”

“Oh, yes.” Damien rose to face his friend. “But mostly because I interrupted Lord Rotham announcing his engagement to my fiancée.”

The glass in Durham’s hand stopped midway to his mouth. “Lady Olivia intended to marry Rotham?”

“You didn’t know?”

“No.”

“What struck me as odd was that no one at the ball was surprised that I was alive.” Damien waved his hand through the air. “Oh, they were surprised that I’d returned. I’d even call their reaction shock. But they weren’t surprised that I was still alive.”

The captain lowered his gaze. “Perhaps they forgot.”

“Then my cousin must have forgotten, too. Because when I met him a little while ago to tell him to get the hell out of London before I sicced his creditors on him, he said, ‘I don’t believe it. You’ve returned,’ not, ‘I don’t believe it. You’re alive.’” Damien took a step closer to Captain Durham. “Why would he say that? You thought I died in the fire and sent word to Lord Pellingsworth to tell Olivia that I was dead. And when you found me alive, I asked you not to tell anyone that you’d found me.”

“That’s exactly what I did, lad. I informed Lord Pellingsworth that you were dead. At the time, we all thought you were. And when I found out you’d survived, I didn’t send word. Just like you demanded.”

“Then why was Olivia the only one who thought I was dead?”

The captain turned away from him and walked back to the cabinet. When he’d refilled his glass, he took a swallow large enough that it drained half the liquor in his glass.

“Why!” Damien asked again, only this time the word came out not as a question but as a demand.

Captain Durham slowly turned. “Because she thought you were dead but kept your death a secret.”

Damien staggered backward a step. “Why? Why would she let everyone believe I was still alive?”

“To protect your mother and your sisters, I assume. To protect your property.”

“Protect them, how?”

Captain Durham walked toward him and poked his glass to Damien’s chest. “For a smart lad, you sure are ignorant at times.”

“Then explain things to me.”

The captain sat in the chair behind his desk. “She never said, but I assumed she intended to keep your death a secret until your sisters were both married, and she’d put enough money back for your mother to live comfortably for the rest of her life.”

Damien felt as if the
Princess Anne
were trying to ride out a hurricane. The floor shifted beneath his feet and he had to reach out for the nearest piece of anchored-down furniture to steady himself.

“What if I never returned?” he said when he found his voice.

“Then Lady Olivia would have gone to her grave still thinking you were dead. And she probably would have told your mother and sisters, and they and the rest of London would have thought you were dead, too.”

Damien shook his head to try to clear it. “Why? Why did she let everyone believe I was alive and would come back someday?”

“You saw your cousin. You know what he would have done to your estates and your wealth if he had inherited your title. He wouldn’t have given a tinker’s damn about your mother or your sisters. They would have been at the mercy of that no-good excuse for a man. And they would have been penniless. They would have lived in poverty and want. Along with your estates and your tenants, and everything else he could get his hands on.”