Betrayed by Your Kiss (16 page)

Olivia strained to see if the carriage slowed in front of her townhouse.

It did.

Captain Durham jumped from the carriage and helped Damien to the ground. Damien was hurt.

Olivia raced to the front door as Captain Durham helped him into the house.

“Damien!”

Olivia looked at him, searching for any sign of blood but didn’t see any. What she saw was even more frightening.

Damien’s features were devoid of color, his face a pasty white. A heavy sheen of perspiration covered his forehead, and rivulets of sweat streamed down his face. He kept his jaw clenched tight, his lips drawn taut, and his eyes were glazed in agony.

Chivers rushed to Damien’s other side, and he and Captain Durham slowly helped Damien up the stairs.

“Where’s he hurt?” Olivia said.

“It’s his legs,” Captain Durham answered.

Olivia turned to go back down the stairs. “I’ll send someone for Doctor Barkley.”

“No!”

Damien’s pain-ravaged voice stopped her, and Olivia froze at the bottom of the stairs. Damien’s face had gone even paler, and as she turned to Captain Durham, he said, “A doctor won’t do his lordship any good. I’ll take care of him, my lady.”

Olivia sucked in a breath and rushed back upstairs to turn down the bed.

“What do you need, Captain?” Olivia asked when Chivers and Captain Durham had brought Damien into the room and close to the bed.

“I’ll need a bucket of hot water—very hot. And plenty of towels.”

Olivia rushed for the door. Captain Durham’s voice stopped her.

“And send someone up with a full bottle of whiskey.”

Olivia looked at the stark pain on Damien’s face and raced out of the room. She’d only taken a few steps down the hall before Damien’s loud moan of anguished torment stopped her short. With tears blurring her vision, she headed for her father’s liquor cabinet while issuing orders for the hot water and towels along the way.

Olivia grabbed the fullest bottles of whiskey on the shelf and raced back into Damien’s room just as Chivers and Captain Durham were laying Damien on the bed.

They’d stripped him of his shirt and breeches and were positioning his naked body facedown on the cotton sheets.

Olivia tried not to stare but wasn’t strong enough to turn her face away from him. Only it wasn’t his nakedness that held her gaze. It was the wide strips of puckered flesh that crisscrossed the backs of his thighs and legs. A raw redness distorted his limbs, and she realized how much pain he must have endured to cause such horrific disfigurement.

Olivia swallowed hard as she watched Chivers and Captain Durham hold Damien’s shoulders. She rushed across the room with the bottles clutched tightly to her breast.

With trembling hands, she poured a good amount into a glass and leaned down to hold it to his lips.

“Here, Damien,” she said, then fell backward when his arm swung out and made contact with her shoulder.

“Out! Get the hell . . . out of here!”

Olivia scooted back on the floor to move out of Damien’s reach.

“Get her out of here,” Damien said, his voice a hoarse, raspy whisper filled with pain. “For God’s sake, Durham. Get her out.”

“Yes, my lord. But first drink this.”

He held a bottle to Damien’s lips, but Damien pushed it away with a vile oath.

“I want her . . . out!”

Olivia stood on legs that barely held her and staggered back to get out of Damien’s line of sight. Several footmen entered the room with buckets of steaming water and tall stacks of towels. Captain Durham reached for a towel and dipped it in the water.

“Perhaps it might be best, my lady . . .” Captain Durham said, leaving the sentence unfinished.

“Out! Get her out!”

“I’m going, Damien,” Olivia said, backing toward the door. “I’m going.”

Olivia watched Captain Durham lift the bottle to Damien’s mouth again, then lay a steaming towel across the backs of his thighs.

Damien bucked on the bed and clutched great wads of the bedsheets in his fists while the captain kneaded his legs like a baker kneaded mounds of unbaked dough.

Olivia closed her eyes at his first agonizing moan.

“Is she gone?” Damien said between gasps of pain.

Captain Durham looked behind him to where Olivia had her back pressed against the wall. She stepped out of the room.

“Yes. She’s gone.”

Olivia walked a few feet down the hallway and sank down on the nearest chair and buried her face in her hands.

She’d never seen such suffering. Never seen a human being in such agony. Her stomach roiled at the muffled groans coming from inside Damien’s room.

“What happened last night?” Olivia whispered to Captain Durham. She kept her voice low enough so she wouldn’t wake Damien. Even though there was no way she could. The amount of whiskey he’d consumed, plus the two doses of laudanum Captain Durham had forced down his throat, guaranteed he wouldn’t wake for hours.

Captain Durham leaned his head back against the cushion and closed his eyes. “We had your cousin trapped aboard the
Commodore,
but he escaped the barricade we’d set up, and Lord Iversley gave chase. None of us were close enough to help, and his lordship,” he said, looking down as Damien tossed restlessly on the bed, “was left to follow the blackguard on his own. I know he hurdled a number of crates your cousin threw in his way as well as raced down blocks of crowded alleys. We got to him as quickly as we could, but there was a fight. Before any of us could reach them, your cousin slammed a board across the back of Lord Iversley’s legs.”

Olivia swallowed past the lump in her throat.

Captain Durham rose from his chair and walked to the window where the sun rested high in the sky.

“Lord Iversley was forced to exert himself far more than he’s physically able to handle right now. By the time we got to him, the damage was already done.”

“Will he heal?”

“Yes, he’ll heal. But he’ll need care for some time now.”

Olivia watched Damien sleep for a while, then asked, “Where’s Richard?”

“One of my men fired a shot to stop him, but he got away. He no doubt isn’t finished. We’ll keep an eye out for him.” Captain Durham turned to face her. “I saw you watching what I did to Lord Iversley.”

Olivia felt her cheeks warm and her stomach churn. “How does he stand it?”

Captain Durham raked his fingers through his hair. “The procedure isn’t pleasant for either of us. I don’t enjoy inflicting such pain. But it’s worse for him,” he said, glancing to where Damien lay.

“I can understand the hot, moist towels. I can see where they would soothe the muscles. But is it necessary to knead his legs so? Or lift and pull him the way you do?”

“Yes. You remember the man I told you about?”

“The man from China?”

The captain smiled. “He would have told me I was too gentle tonight. He would have lifted and stretched Iversley’s legs until he screamed. He would have scolded me using Chinese words I couldn’t understand and made me work the earl’s legs even after the earl had fainted from the pain.”

Olivia turned her head to hide the tears swimming in her eyes.

“And he’d be furious if he knew how long it had been since someone had done what I did tonight. I told Iversley when he came to stay with you, he needed to teach Chivers or one of the other footmen what to do so when I left his legs wouldn’t grow stiff. But he said I wouldn’t be gone that long. That he could get by until I returned.”

Olivia felt a wave of anger wash over her. “How often does this have to be done?”

“Ideally, every day. Every other at the least.”

“Then more than one of us will learn.”

“Us?” Captain Durham asked with raised brows.

“Yes. There is no reason I cannot learn the procedure. Perhaps I’m not as strong as you, but I still need to know what to do should the need arise.”

“He’s not going to like it,” Captain Durham said, crossing his arms over his chest. “He doesn’t like for anyone to see his legs.”

“He’ll get used to it. Just as he’s gotten used to the world seeing the scar on his face.”

“Perhaps. But I’m not sure he’ll ever get used to you seeing him as naked as the day he was born.”

The air caught in Olivia’s throat. “I, uh. I hadn’t . . . Oh, my.”

Captain Durham smiled and Olivia tried not to look so mortified. “Then I guess that’s something we’ll both have to get used to.”

Chapter 19

Olivia stood outside Damien’s door, clutching a bottle of whiskey and a stack of towels to her breast. She forced herself to leave the cork in the bottle, when what she wanted to do was take a drink of it herself. She took several deep breaths, praying they would help her work up the courage she needed to enter Damien’s room and face him.

“Did you need assistance, my lady?”

Olivia looked over her shoulder to face Chivers who’d come up behind her.

“No, Chivers. I was just . . .”

“I understand, my lady. Allow me.” He reached around her to open the door.

Olivia had no choice but to bolster her courage and march into the room like an invading army. It was all she could do not to run when Damien turned his head and looked at her.

“How are you?” she said, stacking the towels on the end of the bed in a very precise manner, then pouring a small amount of liquor into a glass. He watched her with a questioning look on his face, but she didn’t hold his gaze long enough to let him know she’d noticed.

“Olivia. About last night.”

She stood still. She knew he was referring to the shove that had sent her sprawling to the floor.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“I know. Pain makes people do things they’d ordinarily never do.”

“That doesn’t excuse what I did, but yes. The pain hasn’t been that bad since—” He stopped and looked away from her. “Well, it was rather severe last night.”

She held out the glass. “Do you need some of this?”

“No. I had enough last night.”

“You needed it.”

He smiled. It wasn’t a big smile, but was warm enough to heat her insides.

“But I don’t today. Besides, if I start drinking already, I’ll get as bad as Baron Haddley.”

“No you won’t,” she answered, as aware as the rest of Society that Haddley hadn’t had one sober day in the last twenty years. “You’re stronger than he is.”

“Am I?”

“Yes.”

“It’s funny, but some days I don’t feel like it.”

Olivia pondered his words, words he’d spoken more to himself than to her. Yet words that opened a small window so she could see inside him. Inside to where he harbored his fears. Well, today she had fears of her own.

She took a fortifying breath and placed the glass back on the table. The door opened and a servant carried a basin of steaming water into the room. Olivia cleared off a place for the basin.

“What are you doing?”

There was a hardness in his voice she chose to ignore. “I’m preparing to minister to you the same as Captain Durham did last night.”

“No!”

Damien made a move to lift himself up from the bed, and Olivia stepped closer. She shoved her palm against his chest to push him back down.

“Lie back down and turn onto your stomach.”

“No!”

“Turn over, Damien.”

Their gazes locked, the battle line clearly drawn.

“Bloody hell, woman.”

“Please, don’t curse, Damien. It doesn’t do any good.”

“I don’t bloody care. I’m not going to let you see—”

“I saw everything last night.”

“Well, you’re not going to see it in broad daylight.”

“I’m afraid you don’t have anything to say about it.”

“The hell I don’t!”

“Don’t argue with me. Captain Durham said the exercises should be performed every day. Since I intend to see they are, you’ll
bloody well
lie down and let me get this over with.”

Damien glared at her with raging fury. Then he shifted his gaze to the door.

“Don’t even think about it. You’re not strong enough to make it across the room, let alone out of the house to escape me.”

His glare darkened, and Olivia tried to show how unaffected she was with his show of temper by continuing to prepare for what she had to do.

“I’m not letting you touch me. Captain Durham will do it.”

“He’s not here.”

“Well, get him,” Damien roared.

“No,” Olivia roared back just as decidedly. “He was awake all night. He has to oversee the unloading of the cargo on the
Commodore
, and he needs to rest.”

“Then I’ll wait until he’s rested,” he said through clenched teeth.

“You can’t. That’s what put you in this condition. Your stubborn bullheadedness. We’re going to do this now.”

“You don’t know what to do.”

“Captain Durham explained what I should do, and I watched most of what he did last night.”

“Blast!”

Damien pounded his fist against the bed then hollered, “Chivers!”

“It will do you no good to bellow for anyone to come to your aid. I’ve instructed everyone to ignore any ranting that comes from this room.”

“You can’t do this—” he started to say, as Olivia threw the covers off him.

He stiffened when his protection was removed, and Olivia busied herself by wringing out a towel from the hot water. She cringed, whether from the heat that burned her hands or from his discomfort at being so helpless, she wasn’t sure. But this couldn’t be helped. She refused to let the injuries that she was responsible for causing be a barrier between them for the rest of their lives.

“I won’t be as proficient as Captain Durham,” she said wringing out another cloth, “but I’ll endeavor to improve.”

“Olivia, don’t—”

“Please, let me get started, Damien. These towels are losing their heat.”

His jaw clenched in anger, and his fists tightened as if they wanted to strike out at someone—perhaps her—while his chest heaved with raging fury. And he lay immobile on the bed, refusing to turn.

“I’ve already seen your legs, Damien. They were not a pleasant sight, and I would give the world if I could turn back the hands of time and prevent what happened to you, but I can’t. And I refuse to offer you my pity. It will hardly help you improve. What will, however, is doing what the healer told you to do.”

Damien impaled her with his glare.

“Yes, I know about the healer you went to, and what he told you. Therefore, we are left with no option but to follow his instructions to the letter. Captain Durham tells me it is the only way you will regain your strength.”

Olivia sighed when he still didn’t move. “Please turn over onto your stomach and make this easier for both of us.”

“This is the reason you sacrificed a good pair of satin breeches?”

Olivia looked down at the navy satin breeches he wore from which Chivers had cut off the legs.

“I did it as much for you as for myself, my lord. I realize what part I must play to make you well again and am more than willing to help you. But I’m afraid I don’t have the courage to touch you so intimately while you’re naked. You’ll have to give me at least a day or two before—”

“A day or two? It’ll be a hell of a lot longer than a day or two before—”

“Damien, turn over. The water’s growing cold.”

A long, fragile silence separated them while his eyes focused on the ceiling. He was the one to finally break it.

“I don’t want you to see me, Olivia. I’m not sure I can let you touch me.”

His voice was a whisper that tore at her heart. She swallowed hard before answering.

“How long do you think you can stay hidden from me? Unless your threat for us to marry was a false one?”

“No. We’ll marry.”

“Then it really matters little whether I see you today or later.”

He closed his eyes and breathed a sigh she took as his resignation, then rolled onto his stomach. His whole body stiffened as if he realized how exposed he was to her. She tried to push the humiliation he must be feeling to the back of her mind.

“Do you need anything before I begin?” she said, trying to keep her voice from revealing how the sight of his hideously scarred legs tore at her insides. How the thought of touching him so intimately set her on fire.

“No. I doubt you’re strong enough to cause much pain.”

“Perhaps not today. But there’s always tomorrow. I will be stronger tomorrow.”

And Olivia laid the steaming cloths over his thighs and calves. Then she took a deep breath and touched him. Every muscle in his body stiffened when her hands came into contact with his flesh. She fought the urge to pull her hands away from the warm heat of his body. Fought not to show any sign he could mistake as revulsion.

She clamped her lower lip between her teeth and bit down, trying to focus on something other than the intense heat swirling in the pit of her stomach and Damien’s nakedness at the tip of her fingers.

Olivia placed one warm towel after another on his legs while thousands of stinging needles pierced her skin, sending shock waves up and down her arms. Her heart pounded in her breast and she suddenly had difficulty breathing. Touching him set her on fire as wave after wave of molten heat seeped through every part of her. How on earth would she survive rubbing her fingers over his flesh, touching him in ways she never thought she’d touch anyone? Not even her husband.

But she had no choice. Not if she wanted Damien to get stronger. Not if she intended to do everything in her power to help him heal.

Olivia lifted the warm cloth from the calf of one leg and pressed down on his knotted muscles. She didn’t notice the puckered skin or the raw, red scars, but only how alive and vibrant he was. Even marred, he was more masculine than anyone she’d ever met. She was like a bow stretched tight, ready to spring. And she had no idea how she would endure what she knew was coming.

She took a deep breath and concentrated on the instructions Captain Durham had given her. With trembling fingers and her heart thundering in her breast, she began kneading the knotted muscles in Damien’s legs.

Her touch was at first tentative and she knew she didn’t have the brute strength it took to work the muscles with the same force as Captain Durham. But more than once she heard Damien gasp when she rubbed an especially tender spot.

She changed the cloths time and again, and when the water cooled, she sent for hotter water. She kneaded his flesh until her arms ached, then lifted his legs, bending them and stretching them until a spot between her shoulder blades burned as if on fire. And when she was finished, she helped Damien onto his back and repeated the process.

Only it was much more difficult with him on his back. There was a chance she’d look up and find him watching her. A chance that he’d look into her eyes and realize the effect he had on her.

Olivia concentrated harder, making sure she kept her focus on what her hands were doing and not lift her gaze to his face. With relentless energy, she worked on one leg then the other, bending and pushing until his knee nearly touched his chin.

“Enough!”

Her gaze darted to his, and she saw the strain on his face. And the sheen of perspiration on his forehead. She suffered a wave of panic. “Have I hurt you?”

“Yes . . . No . . .” He rolled his eyes, then lifted his hands and let them fall against the bed. His hands were balled into fists. “I’ve endured enough,” he said through clenched teeth.

She couldn’t stop the smile from her face. She may be damp in a most unladylike fashion, but she knew she’d challenged him more than he’d expected.

“Are you all right?” she asked.

“Just fine.”

Olivia smiled. With an inordinate sense of self-satisfaction, she gathered the towels she’d used and put them in a pile. “The captain said you were to stay abed for the rest of the day, and tomorrow you could get up if you thought you could manage.”

“I’ll manage,” Damien answered, his chest heaving as if he’d run a race.

“Do you need something for the pain?”

He laughed, and her heart skipped a beat. “Oh, yes. But I doubt you’d want to oblige me further.”

It took her a moment to realize he wasn’t talking about the pain in his legs. With burning cheeks, she reached to pull the covers over him.

With lightning speed, his fingers clasped around her wrists. “Or maybe you would.”

“No.”

He slowly moved her arms until they were spread wide on either side of him, leaving her no choice but to drop down until she was lying on top of him.

Olivia’s breaths came in harsh, ragged gasps, and Damien’s were no different. He moved his arms out further until her breasts were flat against his chest.

It was a torture of the worst kind, being so close to him, having her body pressed against his, feeling the heat from his naked flesh burning through the material of her gown. Olivia was certain she would go up in flames at any time.

She looked into his eyes. Waited for him to say something. To put a reason to the hunger she saw. To give an excuse to what she knew was about to happen. To pretend for just a moment that what he felt was something more than lust.

Perhaps if he’d just let himself, it might be possible for him to admit he cared for her. She so desperately needed to know there was the slightest chance he could learn to love her again.

But his eyes turned predatory, and she knew he could not. With a heavy sigh that roared with anguish, he ran one hand up the length of her arm and over her shoulder, then cupped the back of her head with long, strong fingers that wouldn’t release her.

She knew he was going to kiss her. Knew from the desperation in his gaze that he wanted her. Perhaps even as much as she wanted him. And yet, a small voice deep inside her warned her it wasn’t just a kiss they would share. It was the surrender of a part of her heart. A part that, if damaged, she’d never find a way to repair.

The gamble was so great. It was as if they were playing a game, but the odds were vastly uneven. The stakes were so much higher for her than for him. She had so much more to lose, for he was not risking any part of his heart.

Olivia wanted to fight him. She knew the second she gave in to him, all hope would be lost. He would have the advantage and would use it to his benefit. He would use that advantage to dominate her. To rule her.

And then it would be too late.

Damien increased the pressure, bringing her head down until their mouths were a breath apart. Until she felt herself melding with him.

Flames of desire raged inside her, from her tingling breasts to the heat swirling deep in her belly.

She needed to save herself. But she couldn’t. She wanted him too badly. Couldn’t control the emotions that had lain dormant since she’d thought him dead. And even if he could never love her—and suddenly she was scared to death that that’s how it would always be—she could not stop herself from loving him.