Samantha James (23 page)

“Heather,” he said thickly, and then again: “
Heather
.”

He could stand no more. In one swift move he dragged her to his chest. Then she felt the sweep of powerful arms around her. In a surge of power he stood upright. Two steps took him to one of the velvet chairs. He sat, strong hands clamped around her buttocks. Heather blinked, for she was sitting atop him; her thighs imprisoned his.

For one mind-splitting instant, his eyes flicked open. His stare sheared directly into hers, silver and hot. Deep within the fiercely glowing depths of his eyes was a burning demand she didn’t fully comprehend.

She gaped down at him. Her hands fluttered on his shoulders. The muscles of his arms were knotted and bulging. She could feel him huge and stiff against her cove of damp, feminine flesh. She drew a deep, shuddering breath. “Damien—”

“Hush, sweet. Hush.”

His fingers delved through damp, dark curls. With his fingers he spread her wide. He lifted her, bringing her down at the same instant he plunged upward.

She clutched at his arms, filled with the rigid thickness of his rod.

“Take me, Heather. Take me.” It was a hoarse, ragged whisper.

Her eyes half closed. A heady sense of power caught her in its tide. She discovered that with the tensing of her thighs, the sway of her hips, the rise and fall of her loins, she controlled the tempo of their loving.

Her lips parted breathlessly. She began to pant and churn. The sensations bombarding her were incredible. His fingers dug into the soft skin of her hips. Damien groaned. He lunged almost wildly. Stretching. Driving. Seeking.

Her nails dug into the knotted hardness of his shoulders. Each thrust pushed them closer to the edge. A scaling pleasure carried them higher, ever higher. Then at last it came. Her body convulsed around his. Spasms of release carried her to the heavens and beyond. His seed spilled hot and thick and molten at the gate of her womb.

They drifted slowly down to earth. When his
breathing had slowed, Damien carried her to his bed, slipping in beside her and drawing the covers over them both.

Heather pillowed her head against the hollow of his shoulder. But all at once she shivered.

“What is it, Heather? What’s wrong?” Concern etched his brow. One hand between the span of her shoulder blades, he waited.

Her voice came haltingly. “I was just thinking—about the jewel case.”

The tension that invaded him was palpable; she could feel it in every muscle of his body. When he finally spoke, his tone was guarded. “What of it?”

“We’ve never spoken of this, Damien…but I would know. Why were you so convinced it was your mother’s jewel case?”

He hesitated. Sitting up, he ran his fingers through his hair. He was clearly torn. Heather sat up as well, drawing the sheet up over her bare breasts.

His hands settled on either side of her arms. “Heather,” he said quietly, “I want nothing to ruin this night. But I must be honest. The jewel case is the same. I know it belonged to my mother.”

Heather opened her mouth. His fingers against her lips, he stifled her protest. “I know you doubt me, but in my heart, I know I am right. I admit, it’s been many, many years since I last saw it—I was just a boy then. But the memory of that jewel case is one that will stand out in my mind forever. My parents loved each other very much,
Heather—it’s much the same with yours. One can not only see it, one can
feel
it.”

Heather’s gaze was steady on his face. “Go on,” she murmured.

“The jewel case was a present to my mother from my father; it was her most treasured possession. I don’t know why, but I was already fascinated with it. I used to sneak into her room to look at it, for I knew I would never be allowed to play with it. But one day, I decided I didn’t care. I climbed up onto her dressing table and opened it. But I was fearful I would be caught, and I was not careful. I broke one of the hinges, and just as it happened, my mother walked in. I knew what I’d done, and though she did not chastise me for breaking it, tears sprang to her eyes, tears she thought I didn’t see. I had made my mother cry, and I felt guilty for days afterward.”

“What happened then?”

“My father took the jewel case to London to be repaired. It was then that he died. I’d forgotten until I saw it again, but I don’t remember seeing it after the day he left for London.”

“So it wasn’t among his possessions when he died?”

“I cannot say for certain. I only know that I never saw it again.”

“An odd tingle sped down Heather’s spine. “How did your father die?”

“A sudden illness took him during his trip to London. He never returned to our home in Yorkshire.”

“Is it possible the jewel case was returned to
your mother and you simply never saw it? Perhaps she hid it away because the memories it evoked were simply too painful.”

“That’s possible,” he admitted.

“But it doesn’t explain how my mother came to have it.” Heather’s voice was very low.

Damien said nothing. He sensed her anguish—she didn’t want to believe her mother was a thief. Indeed, he had no proof.

“It’s possible my mother sold it, and I simply wasn’t aware of it,” he said. “Perhaps that’s how Justine came by it.”

“Perhaps,” she said slowly. “It’s just so—so bizarre that you came to Lockhaven to find my father. And instead you found your mother’s jewel case.” She shook her head. “It’s so strange,” she said again. “And I can’t help but wonder if it’s somehow connected with—with my father.”

Damien maintained his silence. The very same notion had occurred to him as well.

“I brought it with me from Lockhaven, you know. You should have it,” she said suddenly.

He was startled. “The jewel case?”

“Yes. I can return it tonight, if you’d like—”

He cut her off. “Heather, that’s not necessary.”

“But it was your mother’s. And now it’s yours—”

“And what would I do with it?” He took both hands within his own. “Heather, it’s belonged to you for years. I want you to have it.”

“But I don’t feel right keeping it! Besides, it—it’s not the same.”

She couldn’t quite keep the hurt from her voice. He understood in a flash. A finger beneath her chin, he guided her eyes to his.

“It’s always been precious to you, hasn’t it?”

She nodded.

“Then let me do this. It’s my gift to you, Heather. Do you hear? I give it to you here and now, and I pray it will remain just as precious—but for a different reason.”

He was right, she realized. He, too, had lost his mother. And she had always treasured the jewel case because it had belonged to her mother. But now—now she would treasure it because it had belonged to
his
mother….

But in the very next instant, her despair ripened anew.

Her tongue came out to moisten her lips. Her words were not what he expected. “What will you do when this is all over?”

“You mean when I find James Elliot?”

She nodded. Her eyes clung to his. “Will you return to America? To Bayberry?” He’d told her of his home the day they’d spent together at the lake. “Or will you stay in England?”

He expelled a long sigh. “I don’t know,” he said finally. “To be honest, I really haven’t given it much thought.”

Without warning a tear slipped from the corner of her eye. He stared. “Heather, I told you I will do nothing without—”

“It’s not that.” She gave a choked little cry.

Exasperated, he was at a loss to explain her tears. “What, then?”

Her gaze nearly slipped. She swallowed bravely. “Damien,” she said softly, “I’m going to have your baby.”

He went deadly still. She almost thought he hadn’t heard, but then she felt the tension that invaded him.

“Dear God,” he said in an odd, strangled voice. His gaze slid down to her belly, as if to test for himself the truth of her words. In that mind-splitting instant when his eyes returned to hers, she glimpsed in his a horrified shock he couldn’t hide.

The world was a watery blur. Heather forced back the hollow ache gathering in her breast. “I knew it!” she cried. “I knew I shouldn’t tell you. But I thought…I wanted no more lies between us!”

She tried to wrench back, but he snared her wrists in an iron hold. “Heather, no! It’s not what you think.”

“Of course it is.” Her voice betrayed a scathing denunciation. “It’s one thing to bed the daughter of your brother’s murderer. It’s quite another for her to be carrying your child.”

His jaw snapped shut. “That’s not it and you know it.”

“Do I?” A strange cold note crept into her voice. “And how would I know it, Damien?”

Damien bit back an oath. This was his fault. He knew it. He’d just never expected it…another mistake, he realized grimly. But before he could say a word, there was a knock on the door.

“My lord!” called a voice. “Cameron Lindsey requests your presence below stairs.”

He gave an impatient exclamation. “Not now, William.”

“My lord, he says he has news you are anxiously awaiting.”

Damien surged upright and threw on a dressing gown. “Stay here,” he ordered curtly. “We’ll continue this discussion when I return.”

But Heather had no intention of standing idly by and waiting. He’d made his feelings about her condition quite clear. What need was there to wait? The door had no sooner closed than she slipped from the bed.

Her clothing was still in the ballroom. Wrapping a sheet around herself, she found her way downstairs.

Below, in the study, Cameron was on his feet as soon as Damien strode in. His dispatch was brief and direct.

“He knows you’re here.”

Damien stopped short. “Elliot knows? Elliot knows I’m in London?”

“Yes. He’s been asking questions about the younger brother of Giles Tremayne.”

Damien couldn’t hide his mounting excitement. “Yes.
Yes
!”

“Indeed, my lord. Apparently he learned the two of you were at Covent Garden the other evening. It seems he was”—Cameron laughed softly—“quite interested in this news. The streets have been abuzz with questions about you—and her. I must say, your being seen with her at Covent Garden does seem to have done the trick. I knew it would.”

Damien seized Cameron by the shoulders. “It’s finally coming to pass. Cameron, he’ll soon be mine, and this will all be over!”

Neither knew that a figure had paused just outside the door, which was slightly ajar.

Before long Damien saw Cameron to the front door. A smile of satisfaction rimming his lips, he turned, only to find his way barred.

“You bastard,” she said feelingly.

His gaze ran over her. Her hair tumbled over her shoulders and down her back. Her ball gown was hastily donned; it hung crookedly from one bare shoulder.

The pure violet of her eyes was the only color in her face. Her skin was chalk white.

“Heather. Heather, for God’s sake—” He started to reach for her.

She eluded his touch as if he carried the plague.

“Do not pretend such concern! I know better now, Lord Deverell.” His name was a blistering curse. “Your concern is naught but a ruse.”

Damien was stunned. “Heather! Why are you so angry? That was Cameron Lindsey, my investigator, with word of James Elliot.”

She faced him unflinchingly. “So I gathered,” she said tightly. “You must be very happy he’s aware of your presence.”

“Yes,” he said. His regard was unwavering. “And I thought you would be as well.”

“Oh, I am, my lord. I am.”

“Then what is wrong? Why are you so incensed? I apologize for leaving you the way I did—”

“It’s not that!”

He was genuinely puzzled. “What, then?”

She was suddenly so angry she was shaking with it. Her lips curled. “‘I must say,’” she quoted, “‘your being seen with her at Covent Garden does seem to have done the trick.’”

Now it was Damien’s turn to pale. “You heard.”

“Oh, aye.” Her tone was falsely hearty. “I heard!”

He inhaled, searching for the right words, praying he could find them. “You put a meaning to those words that is not there, Heather—that only you see. I swear, it’s not what you think.”

A suffocating heaviness knotted in her breast. Tears scalded the back of her throat. She blinked them back. If only she could believe him—if only she dared! The anguish inside her nearly sapped her strength, but she maintained her composure through a sheer effort of will.

“You use words to advantage, Damien. I—I
know it well. You used
me
to advantage. But the fact remains; you deceived me—twice now. You used me to find my father. You used me when you came to Lockhaven.”

A dull flush crept beneath his cheekbones. “That was different, Heather. Everything has changed—”

“Nothing has changed, nothing! That—that stupid dance at Sophie’s, for all to watch! I—I was moved to the marrow of my bones. I thought it so tender, so very romantic!”

She dashed away the tears that rose unbidden. “But I know now it was just a—a calculated move. You only wanted the gossips to take note, that all London would be filled with talk about the two of us, that
he
might hear. God, but I was a fool to think it was me you cared about!”

“I do care. Heather, I do. I will not lie—Cameron
did
want me to use you to lure your father out from hiding. I refused. Indeed, I meant to keep my distance until later…but then I saw you—Heather, you were so beautiful! And suddenly I didn’t care who saw. I didn’t care about anything but holding you in my arms and giving you something I knew you’d always wanted. Heather, you have to believe me!” With his eyes, he implored her. With his hand, he reached for her.

She slapped it away. Did he truly believe she was such a fool? This time she’d not be misled so easily. “You’re a liar,” she accused flatly. “You’ve lied to me all along.”

“Not this time, Heather, I swear—”

“Please summon the carriage.” She had gathered her skirts in hand—along with an icy dignity. “I would like to go home.”

Damien battled a bitter frustration. As he stared at her, it was almost as if he could see her retreating, drifting further and further away. And all at once the distance between them was immense.

She wouldn’t listen. She wouldn’t even look at him. She’d closed her ears to him…and her heart as well.

The cast of his jaw rigid, he did as she requested and summoned the carriage. His posture was wooden as he watched the carriage clatter into the darkness.

Damien slept little that night. The taste of self-disgust was like dust in his mouth. Heather’s stricken little cry tore at his insides.
God, but I was a fool to think it was me you cared about
! She had been shattered. Her lips were tremulous; he could see that it took all her strength not to break down. He knew it, and he hated himself for putting that look on her face. He considered going to her, trying to convince her once more of the truth. His mouth twisted. Yet why should she believe him, for indeed the evidence was damning.

Then there was the babe. He’d never considered she might be with child, and in that he’d blundered rather badly. He’d known that in time he would marry and have children. In truth, he’d never married not because of a disdain for the institution, but because he’d never found a wom
an with whom he longed to spend the rest of his life…

Never until now.

He loved her. He loved the way her hair lay over her shoulder like the wings of a raven, dark and sleek. He loved the way her lovely mouth pursed while she pondered deep and hard, lost in thought. Her beauty, her inner strength. The way those deep violet eyes lit up with the warmth of a thousand suns when she laughed. She possessed a warmth and a gentleness of spirit that made her sparkle like the finest jewel. She was so beautiful…and she didn’t even know it. For still she had so little faith in herself as a woman…

Even less in him.

But he liked the idea of his babe curled deep in Heather’s womb. He liked the idea of sharing his home—his life—with the raven-haired beauty who captured his every waking thought. And now she carried his child…
his child
. He was filled with a wondrous elation, even as he was filled with the bleakest of despair. For he had the awful feeling that if Heather had anything to say about it, he would be a father long before he was a husband.

Indeed, where he was concerned, it seemed fate would take a turn even more cruel. William brought the
Gazette
along with his morning meal. He scowled as he read the fine print:

With a blatantly obscene expletive, he hurled the paper to the floor.

He allowed a day for her temper to cool, and then he went to her the next evening.

Nelson shuffled toward the back of the house. He reappeared a few minutes later. “My lord,” he said sheepishly, clearing his throat, “I fear Miss Heather will not see you.”

Damien was not surprised. “Thank you for passing on her message, Nelson,” he said to the stoop-shouldered butler. Bold as you please, he stepped inside and closed the door himself.

Nelson’s mouth opened and closed. He was clearly in a quandary.

Damien glanced down the long hallway. He clapped the old man on the shoulder and lowered his voice. “You’ve not betrayed her, Nelson,” he murmured. “But I wonder…could she be in the garden?”

Relief flashed in the old man’s faded blue eyes. He nodded.

He found her sitting on an old stone bench near a small gurgling fountain. She was staring out across the maze of flowers, her profile solemn and unsmiling, stark and lonely. Her hands were linked together in her lap. The thought vaulted through his mind that her heart was as empty as his arms…. So intent was she in her musings that she didn’t hear his approach.

He stopped. “Heather,” he said quietly.

She looked up. Her gaze scraped over him. “Who let you in?” she demanded.

He smiled thinly. “I happen to be on excellent terms with the servants.”

She glared her displeasure. “Well, you may charm them but you won’t charm me. You may as well leave. I have nothing to say to you.”

He shrugged. “No matter,” he said lightly. “But I have quite a lot to say to you.”

Digging her cane into the dirt, she pushed herself upright…straight into his arms.

Deliberately she turned her face aside. “Please remove your hands from my person.”

His smile was frugal. “So prim. So proper. But I think not, love.”

Love
. Heather wanted to slap him for daring to say that to her. But his hands on her waist were disturbingly warm. As always, the power of his presence was a potent force. She fought against it and rallied.

“We didn’t finish our discussion last night,” he went on. “There’s a very important matter between us that needs to be settled.”

Her chin climbed high. “There’s nothing between us!”

“No?” His laughter held no mirth. “Now that’s where you’re wrong. There’s
this
between us.” His hand moved before she could stop him. He splayed his fingers wide across the hollow of her belly.

Heather gasped. She tried to push him away, but it was no use. He clamped her hips between
his hands and brought her close, so close her slippered feet lay squarely between his booted feet.

“The way I see it, there’s only one thing to be done. You’ll have to marry me.”

You’ll have to marry me
. The world teetered. All conscious thought fled her mind. For the space of a heartbeat, all she could do was gape numbly.

If only she could have remained numb…all at once pain descended, swift and merciless. She trembled in reaction, feeling as if she were bleeding inside.

Marriage to Damien…Her breath came raggedly. God in heaven, that was all she ever wanted. She hadn’t known it until that moment. But there was a rending pain in her heart. He didn’t speak of love…and little wonder, she thought bitterly.

He didn’t love her. He would never love her—and the knowledge was like a knife slicing through to her soul. He felt obliged to marry her. He was a gentleman, and he would do the honorable thing.

Perhaps she should have respected him for it. But now she almost hated him for it.

Straightening her shoulders, she looked him full in the eye.

“I wouldn’t marry you if you were the last man on earth.”

But he was the
only
man for her. In the instant between one breath and the next, he’d seen it. She loved him. But she wouldn’t admit it.

“And what about the babe?” If he was ruth
less, he didn’t care. “I would remind you this is my child you’re carrying. Do you think I want no part in his upbringing?”

Her eyes blazed defiance. “This is
my
child. You made your feelings about this babe quite clear last night.”

“I did no such thing. You left before we could discuss it.”

“How generous of you, my lord. But there’s no need to make such a”—she mocked him almost sweetly—“such a sacrifice.”

“You’re a fool if you think I’ll let you go.”

She scoffed openly. “What, my lord! Do you think I don’t know where this offer comes from? No doubt you think I’m unfit to be the mother of your child. I am, after all, the daughter of a murderer. You think that because I—I’m lame that I cannot take care of a child.”

He released her, only to cross his arms over his chest. He raised an arrogant brow. “Well, which is it, I ask? Are you unfit to be the mother of my child because you are lame? Or because you are the daughter of a murderer?”

He knew he mocked her most cruelly. Heather’s spine was rigid. “You tell me,” she stated levelly.