Damien's Destiny (9 page)

She’d taken off her hat as soon as they left the hotel and Damien loved her being unconventional enough to expose her silky hair. The scent of her lily-of-the-valley shampoo wafted to him and he closed his eyes for a moment. He suddenly couldn’t abide the people and the bustle of this busy section. As they’d done the night before, he drew Toria with him and turned down a small side street toward the Thames.

His impatience almost ruined their rapport. He no sooner got Toria away from the main street than he stopped and brought her into his arms. At first she gasped and pushed at him and he held still. Then she sighed and surprisingly melted against him.

He lifted her chin with one strong hand.

“Toria, trust me in this. I want only to kiss you again. I will never hurt you, surely you know that.”

She nodded and raised her eyes to his, trust and something else. A little anticipation? He claimed her lips once again, this time a deeper kiss, his tongue invading and stroking. A kiss that soon had him quivering like the veriest untried youth. Toria slowly responded, at first with hesitation and then letting her tongue play with his. Damien’s whole body tightened and he knew he was not going to stay in control if he continued too far down this pleasurable path. He allowed his hands to hold her body closely, roaming a little and barely touching the sides of her beautiful breasts. Merciful Merlin but he longed to unclothe her on the spot and take her completely. His erection was so large he knew he was in for another sleepless night.

Using his considerable willpower he managed to stop himself.
Bloody hell but this was even more difficult than last night.
Then he pressed one last light kiss against her lips and stepped back.

She clutched at him to bring him closer again.

“Did I do something wrong, Damien? Why did you stop? I don’t want you to stop.”

Merciful Merlin, she’d been placed on earth strictly to drive him stark mad.

He held her for one last light hug and then turned her in his arms so she walked beside him. He took her hand and started them both back to the hotel. She was a temptress who would send him straight to Hades if he didn’t resist her. She had no idea at all what just being beside her and touching her did to him.

He sighed.

“If you knew how I hated to stop you’d know you did everything just right, love. But I must see you back to safety. Our train leaves early in the morning.”

That she didn’t fully understand was apparent as her expressive eyes were both puzzled and regretful.

Damien’s feelings churned within him. Joy at her further small step toward love with him and deep regret he must proceed so slowly. Yet it was far better she’d want him to do more than be frightened away from where he longed to eventually take her.

He saw her to her door and kissed her hand with studied gallantry. Although he allowed his lips linger longer than necessary for a polite goodnight. Then he headed out for a longer and brisker walk.

Although he recognized exercise couldn’t solve his problems.

Especially the large physical one stretching his trousers to the limit.

Well, hell
.

Chapter Seven

Damien had left instructions for Stephens to send the carriage to meet every train from London after they’d been gone one day. So he was not surprised to be met promptly when the train pulled into the Dover station. Both Debby and Toria were entranced by the surrounding chalk cliffs, peering out the windows of the train as the tracks skirted the foot of the high white crags. Although they’d both seen them on the way north, they were seemingly just as enchanted to view them again.

When catching the train for London there’d not been enough time to stroll along the spit of the Promenade. This time he’d have his carriage wait and he’d walk them along the spit so they could see the beauty of the white cliffs and their majestic heights looming above the town.

He laughingly told them to take their noses from the small glass window. Informing them it was time to get off the train, with one lady on each arm, he signaled to his coachman to wait while he started them both toward the Promenade. A famed spit starting at the railway station, thrusting out into the ocean and providing a breathtaking view of the spectacular chalk cliffs soaring into the blue, blue sky. Another beach stretched directly under the cliffs but the Promenade was the famous walk because of its better perspective.

A sudden prophetic presentiment almost brought him to a halt. Something was very wrong. He started to turn back to the carriage but then decided not to alarm the ladies. Still, he didn’t linger over the gorgeous view provided by the towering cliffs but listened to their appreciative comments with muted pleasure and then turned them back to his carriage.

He looked carefully at his driver, who greeted them respectfully and rushed to assist the ladies. The man showed no undue alarm but Damien was not reassured. If trouble did not dwell with them yet, then it was coming soon.

He settled the girls in and leaned back in one corner. He’d carefully placed Toria beside him, with Debora facing them. He closed his eyes and appeared to be dozing but he was far from relaxed. Every sensory feeling in his mage’s mind told him disaster waited for them at Tregaron.

He placed his arm lightly across Toria’s shoulders and tried to look nonchalant. She gave him a sharp look. He’d forgotten her dratted intelligence once again but now he merely smiled at her. He did not move his protective arm.

* * * * *

As they turned into the long driveway leading to Tregaron, Damien’s sense of foreboding strengthened.

Suddenly with his preternatural vision he could see a huge black shape blocking the driveway. Almost without thought he turned Toria in his arms and pressed her lips to his. He shifted so his broad shoulders blocked most of the window, hopefully enough to keep both girls from looking out. He deliberately protracted the kiss, trying to keep her attention focused on him until the carriage passed the ominous creature. The kiss certainly distracted him, while Debby stared at them in astonishment.

He kept Toria’s head pressed against his shoulder and smiled at his sister.

“You must have realized how I’ve come to treasure Toria. I know this is rather public but I can think of little else when she’s so near.”

Once again he’d forgotten Toria’s damned intelligence. At first she responded by sweetly returning his kiss as if nothing else mattered in this world. Then she drew away and looked up at him, her beautiful eyes narrowing.

“This isn’t at all like you, Damien. What do you mean by suddenly providing such a display in front of Debora? And don’t treat me like an idiot child easily distracted by a piece of candy or an entrancing kiss.”

Damien’s groan was heartfelt. His stupid tactics had not only alienated Toria, he’d failed to block Debora’s vision as much as he’d hoped. She sat across from them both, staring out and putting both hands to her lips.

“Oh, angels above. What on earth is that?”

Damien shouted to the driver to take to the grass and keep going but as the carriage swung out Toria looked back through the opposite window and turned as white as Debora.

“Dolly? Is that Dolly lying there?”

“No, my love, it’s not Dolly.”

“How can you be sure, Damien?”

“I’m sure.”

She accepted his statement and calmed a little. To Damien’s pleasure she believed his reassurance. He’d already checked in his mind and knew Dolly was safe in the stable. Only one possibility remained. The bastardly Heath had brought Minerva onto Tregaron grounds and shot her. In his mind he clearly saw the hole just above her eyes. At least Heath had killed her instantly. Although probably one of his hired villains had done the deed, not the coward himself. But then he wouldn’t want the horse to neigh in fright and pain.

The deed had been well planned and executed. Far enough from the house so the shot would give the killer time to circle around and escape. He imagined Stephens even now had servants combing the property.

He reached for Toria again but she shook him off with a sudden frantic strength that surprised him.

“Damien, I want to go back and see if we can help.”

He forcibly put his arms around her but lightly so she’d not grow more frenzied.

“None of us can help now, love. It’s Minerva and she’s quite dead. Heath ordered her shot. I blame myself for not foreseeing the depths of his twisted mind. I should have purchased her from him long ago.”

Toria stopped struggling and began to cry with deep shaking sobs that wrenched at Damien’s heart. He held her in his arms, silently cursing himself. He felt obliged to tell her the truth. Nothing else would serve. His only consolation was she believed his every word.

Damien had not envisioned a mind as perverted as the baron’s, although he should have. Oh, he should have.

* * * * *

As soon as they reached the house Damien hugged both women briefly and then vaulted from the carriage and let the footman hand the ladies down.

Stephens met him at the door, his own face grave.

“I’ve already sent men with a large cart to get the horse, my lord. The man we sent to check says it’s quite dead. Where do you want it buried, sir?”

“I think behind the stables. Miss Victoria will want to know where she is. That’s Minerva, her horse when she was growing up.”

“Ah. Now it makes a little sense. We’re dealing with a vicious man, my lord.”

Damien nodded his head, not commenting on the “we”.

“I’m sending to London for hired guards. Please pick a good man and tell him to carry out my orders as soon as possible.”

Stephens nodded too well trained to ask the question Damien knew lurked in his mind.

“I want the perimeters of Tregaron patrolled and well protected, day and night. Stephens. I do not want local men since the baron might hold one of their family hostage to aid his wicked plans. I want men he cannot control.”

Damien saw his butler’s eyes widen a little, before he bowed slightly and turned away.

“I can afford it, Stephens,” he said dryly.

Stephens turned back, a slight flush on his face. “I heard the shot, my lord but could not tell at first the direction it came from. The murderer planned this well.”

Damien agreed. He thought Heath a murderer as well, although some might not count shooting a horse as such a terrible deed. To him, taking any life was almost unforgivable.

As Stephens went off to do his bidding, Damien watched the girls walking slowly to their rooms. Toria sent him one agonized glance as she mounted the stairs but he said nothing. Both she and Debora needed time alone right now. He’d do his best to console Toria later.

He thought the time fast approaching when he should make plain his love for her, even if earlier than he’d planned. She might not forgive the way he’d mauled her in the carriage unless he did.

Merlin’s magic but he’d handled this whole day like a blabbering dunce.

Damien strode away. Catching up on estate matters might not be a bad idea while Toria got some rest. He’d see to her relaxation, of course. Although she would want to mourn Minerva alone, hopefully not feeling as guilty as he did.

Perhaps he’d learned one thing from the horrible episode. Or rather two things. One was he must try to put himself more into Heath’s mind and see if he could fathom his wicked schemes. The other was not to attempt to trick Toria. Although he’d certainly enjoyed that mistimed kiss and relished her instinctive response to him. She returned his caresses more naturally every time he touched her. Kissing her could never be a true mistake.

If she’d not been so badly wounded by her past he would have followed up on their attraction for each other much sooner. And in a much more direct fashion that would bring pleasure to them both. He was experienced enough to know she enjoyed his caresses. Yet how far could he take her fascination without repelling her? Damn if it wasn’t the most delicate problem he’d ever faced. One he was determined to solve as a man and not a mage. He would use no magic on Toria.

He opened the door to his study, relishing the familiar surroundings. He found a great deal of solace in its frankly masculine décor. Red leather chairs bracketed the fireplace and his large desk sat beneath the window. Gold drapes held back with heavy red cords allowed him to gaze at the grounds he loved.

Tregaron was a very old mansion and the main abode of the earls of Sinclair for several centuries. Originally a long, three-story house built of local whitish stone, it must have looked rather severe at first. Succeeding earls added two wings, one at each end. The result was a much more graceful mansion. The stocky center appeared rather ordinary but both wings boasted elegant tall windows that let in the light. Damien had placed a new kitchen in the current servant’s wing so it was more accessible to the morning and dining rooms. Green lawns surrounded the manor with his mother’s herb and flower garden in the back and his father’s hunting preserve far to one side. The colonnaded entrance at the front accessed a white stone fountain whose constantly tumbling waters created a charming cascade. The grass beyond the fountain extended unimpeded to the edge of the cliffs. To both sides were well tended parks. Flowering bushes changed with the season’s colors in front of the lush foliage. Damien loved every inch, every bush and tree. Tregaron was an integral part of his soul.