Forget Me Not (27 page)

A huge yawn nearly split Lydia’s face as she rubbed her eyes, feigning exhaustion. “I’m sorry if something startled you, but I haven’t heard a thing. The sound of the rain has me sleeping like a baby.”

Olivia gave her a crooked look. “Lydia, you hate storms. You crawled into bed with me until you were twelve years old whenever the sky so much as threatened a thunderstorm.”

“Yes, well, thankfully I’m not twelve anymore.”  A crash of thunder exploded overhead, Lydia jumped. “In any case the storm is probably what woke you. That last clap sounded very close.”

“Perhaps…”  Olivia appeared thoroughly disbelieving as she drifted slowly around the perimeter of the room, straightening books and knick-knacks along the way. “Do you smell that, dear?”

Nervously Lydia gulped. “The rain, Livy?”

“No not the rain,” Olivia snapped. “I know very well what the rain smells like.”  Shrewd eyes raked the length of her, the older woman shuddered. “You look a mess dear and your room smells suspiciously of lovemaking. Has someone been here?”

Lydia gasped at the bald question and hid trembling hands in the folds of her sheets. Nothing ever escaped her stepmother. The woman was entirely too intuitive. “Really, Livy, I have no idea what lovemaking should smell like!”

Olivia speared her with a scathing gaze.

“You must trust that I would never do anything foolish. You raised me better than that.”  It wasn’t a lie per-say, but Lydia didn’t feel any less guilty at the omission. For half a second she considered letting Olivia find Brian, then he would be obligated to marry her. But she would never trap a man in marriage. Being with her must be his choice.

“I sincerely hope so.” Olivia arched a disciplinary brow. “Having that Donnelly man so close to your quarters makes me nervous. I’ve seen how you look at him. Not that I blame you,” she added almost under her breath. “But your father simply will not listen to reason in the matter. He insists Brian Donnelly is the best man ever to serve under him.”  Opening the closet door Olivia seemed to assure herself Lydia was in fact alone and sauntered toward the door. “All right, I will leave you to rest, but consider yourself forewarned… I am watching you.”

The door clicked shut and Brian stumbled back into the room, shaking water droplets from his hair. “Colder than Hades out there.”

“Isn’t Hades supposed to be hot?”  She ogled the sight of his incredible body with beads of rain clinging to the bronzed skin it was all she could do to follow his words. It must be a sin for the man to look so… good.

He strode to the door and struck the lock before doffing rain soaked trousers and climbing back into the bed. “Get over here lass, I’m freezin’.”  He pulled her into his arms, snuggling her back against his slicked chest.

“Oh, Brian,” she giggled playfully, “your feet feel like ice sickles.”

“Do they?  And what about me nose?”  Teasingly he pressed his face into her neck.

“Stop, please!  Your nose is just as cold.”

“Well, seein’ as yer the one who ordered me onto the balcony in the middle of that there storm I’d say it is now yer duty to warm me back up.”

“Fair enough I suppose.”  She laced her fingers through his, enjoying the ease of their intimacy.

Wordlessly he kissed the top of her head, snuggling her into a perfect nook.

Lydia sighed, the time had come to discuss their future. “Brian, will this be it for us?  Our only chance to be together?”

Brian rolled away from her, sprawling across the bed. Slowly Lydia turned and rose on an elbow. His eyes were closed, expression relaxed, but otherwise unreadable. “Oh, love, no. I don’t know that I can ever let ye go now. At least not completely.”  His lids opened, fixing a gaze upon her that was soft and yielding. “Ye’re mine, Lydia. Don’t ever forget.”  He paused, reaching for her fingers. “I-I think I love you.”

Lydia’s heart swelled, instantly she threw her arms about his neck. “Oh, Brian, thank you!  I love you too. Let’s run away together. We can leave right now for Scotland and be married tomorrow. We’ll take Brandon with us, we can adopt him.”

He chuckled at her exuberance. “Easy now, love, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. That’s not what I said.”

Thick dread pooled in her stomach, Lydia pulled away.
This couldn’t be happening.
“What are you saying, Brian?”

“Just what does it sound like I’m sayin’?  To hell with the Americas, I will take the lead trainer position with Lord Northbridge to be near you.”

“To be near me?” she said slowly, the true implication of his words dawning, and casting heavy shadows across a lifetime of dreams. He didn’t want her, never really had wanted her, at least not in an ‘until death do you part’ sort of way. It hurt. She’d known this could happen. He’d
made it painfully clear he wanted nothing more than a passing flirtation, perhaps nothing more than this one magical, amazing night. But until this very moment… the moment when her heart was open and bleeding on a pedestal before him… the fact she wouldn’t be able to change his mind had never occurred to her.

Their gazes met Brian’s eyes full and sparkling with promise, but Lydia knew it was not the promise she longed to hear. “Aye, as ye asked me to do earlier this very day.”

“But, you don’t want to marry me?” she said slowly, the words not so much a question as a statement. She drew away from him. He reached for her but she evaded him, perching at the edge of the bed, angling away so he would not see the glitter of tears.

Brian sighed, the sound heavy… sad. “It does not matter what I want, Lydia.”  He rose on an elbow, placing a hand at her wrist. Heat radiated from the gentle touch, reaching for her heart but a hollow formed around the organ, making it impossible. “Now, I realize our relationship won’t be perfect. We’ll not be husband and wife or have ten beautiful children, but it’s the way of the British aristocracy. I guarantee near every titled match in England is miserably married, but having blissful affairs.”

Lydia stared down at her trembling hands. “How can you ask me to be your mistress, to slum with you, when I have begged you to take me as a wife?”  Convulsively she swallowed back a sob. “Do you think I am the type of woman to forsake the man I marry?  To spit in the faces of the children I will have?”

“It is the only way we can be together, Lydia. Do ye not see that?”

“No, I don’t see it. I fail to see any of your logic. Explain to me why we can’t get married. Why can we not elope?  I realize you cannot ask my father for my hand and that there will be repercussions for leaving a peer standing at the altar, but we can overcome it. We can leave.”

Brian scoffed. “Is that really what ye want?  To never show your face in polite society again?”

“We can leave, Brian. Leave and start over. Away from all of the rules and judgment,” she reasoned.

“And what of yer father?  The scandal would ruin him.”

Lydia pursed her lips. Sir William was a formidable man, if anyone could overcome scandal it was he.

“Stop livin’ in a dream world, Lydia. Sir William would never forgive you fer an elopement and I’ll not see ye lose yer father’s good favor. He loves you.”

“He has a funny way of showing it. Do you not see that I am nothing but my father’s pawn?  I don’t want to marry the viscount, but a prolonged affair with you is not an option regardless of what the rest of the aristocracy does. I will not be one of those women, Brian Donnelly. Once I am married, be it to Northbridge or to you, my loyalty and my body will belong to my husband.”

“And what of yer heart, love?  Can ye deny yer heart all those lonely years or will ye long
for me to touch you again?”  Br
i
a
n snaked an arm about her waist, sweeping her alongside him and bearing his mouth down to brand her with a searing kiss. Gentle fingers caressed the column of her throat as his soft lips trailed lower.

Lydia had dreamed of
this
… longed to be in his arms for so long she couldn’t quite bring herself to push him away. One more kiss… one more stolen moment… one last memory…  Why could he not see how perfect this
was?  Did he not feel the enchantment?  How easy it would be to be drawn in... forever…

“Bastard!”  She shoved with all her strength against him, scrambling off the bed. “You,” she seethed, stabbing a finger in his direction, “are not the man I thought I loved. The man I loved would never be so callous.”  She was shouting, nearly out of control with hurt and rage. She trembled with such force her legs threatened to buckle. Lydia had just enough presence of mind to pause and force her voice down an octave else Olivia come barreling back down the hall. She drew a ragged, cleansing breath, holding it deep in her lungs. She speared Brian with a murderous glare, and the man had good sense enough to look sufficiently unnerved. “What about any children we might have?  There could already
be
a child.”  Lydia clutched her abdomen, sick
with the thought, but plunged ahead. “Would you leave that child,
your child,
to be raised by Lord Northbridge?  Could you really live with that?”

Brian swung his legs to the edge of the bed, sat, and looked her dead in the eye, expression hard. “Yes,” the word was slow, deliberate, and spoken with absolute conviction. “Yes, I could.”

Lydia stumbled back a step, horrified. “But… why?”

“Because that child—” He leapt to his feet in a manner that could almost be termed predatory, a palpable anger emanating from his body. His gaze flicked to her abdomen a spark of emotion—something she could not quite identify—lighting his eyes, glowing from within. It occurred to her suddenly that the secrets ever lurking in the depths of his eyes were not secrets at all but scars... Through his eyes she could see the wounds of his soul. “That child,” his expression grew soft, his voice hoarse, his gaze remained fixed on her stomach, “will never be left alone should anything happen to you or me. That child will always be provided for.”

Lydia inhaled sharply as a resounding chord of clarity rang through her mind. “So that is what all of this is about. Why you reject me. I understand,” she said plainly, taking a tentative step toward him. Lydia looked him square in the eye, her gaze searching
burning
, perhaps even yearning as she delved through his eyes into his very soul, hunting the demons he sought to repress.

“You could never understand,” Brian rasped, standing rigid beside the bed as she continued advancing on him.

“Oh, but I do.”  Not two feet from him she stopped, gaze never wavering from his. “I see now what you’re afraid of. You lost your family, everyone you’ve ever loved, and now you’re terrified to open your heart again.”

The blood drained from Brian’s face until he resembled a marble statue. She’d struck close to home—or more accurately, his heart—indeed.

“You claim to love me, but,” Lydia shook her head, “you, Brian Donnelly, do not know what love is. Love is sacrifice. Love is work. And love is blind to the size of a home or any
material possessions. Now, I see that you are terrified of falling in love and committing to another person because you don’t want it all taken away again. I’m sorry you lost your family, Brian, but it is time to move past it. Time and again I have watched you risk your life for others, for
me
. I thought you the bravest man I’d ever met, but it is not brave to risk yourself when there is nothing to lose. You have nothing to lose but the shirt on your back or the money hidden in your boot. Life is full of risks. Love is a risk. I, for one, am willing to risk for
you
.”  Lydia took the final step toward him, standing directly before him, challenging him to deny the living breathing magic between them. Loving him was as real and natural as the air, and she knew to the depths of her soul he felt it too. She existed to love this man… to complete him. Slowly she extended a hand offering him…
the world
.

The moment hung perfect and silent for the space of a breath. Neither dared breathe. Brian’s smoldering gaze slid from her fingers, outstretched in invitation, to her eyes. The air crackled between them, a living entity all its own.

Lydia stared into Brian’s eyes and could have cried for all that she saw in the green depths. For the first time in their acquaintance his soul was entirely bared to her…  She could
see
the damage of every loss and heartache he’d known in life. Disappointment and regret poured from his eyes, and through his eyes, into his soul—or perhaps his heart—she saw the little boy that had never been… never had the chance to live or grow or even laugh. It quite simply broke her heart and if she’d believed she loved him before, she was not prepared for the sudden, intense deepening of the emotion. For the first time she
knew
him. She’d always loved him, but before this exact second she’d never understood why he so fervently held himself back.

“Let me help you, Brian,” she murmured, wanting nothing more than to wipe the pain from his slate, start anew. “It’s time to let go all the memories you’ve held onto. Give me your past. Let me take it from you,” she finished in the barest whisper. Searching his face Lydia knew no words could portray all he needed to know. Closing the distance between them she wrapped her arms around his powerful shoulders, pulling him into her.

He crumbled.