Dark Hero; A Gothic Romance (Reluctant Heroes) (29 page)

“No, but I’ve had a great deal of time to think about this
since yesterday.” Jack responded. “A man cannot fully know the workings of
another man’s mind. My dear lady, all I’m saying is that you needn’t stay here
out of loyalty to a man whom you’ve admitted frightens you. I could rent a
modest house in Basseterre if you’d rather not make the long journey to England
right away. I’m not as well situated as he is financially, but you could live
in comfort under my protection. I care for you, very much, my dear Elizabeth.
And I give you my solemn word that I would never expect anything from you in
return.”

You dirty, double-crossing bastard! Donovan held his breath,
waiting for Elizabeth’s response to the captain’s scandalous offer.

“I-I-I-oh--oh.” She was trying to speak, but in her
agitation, she seemed unable to.

Donovan knew he should cut this off, for the sake of her
health. First, he needed to hear her response to Jack’s brazen offer of escape.

“Please try to understand.” She whispered in a strained
voice that was a strong portent of coming tears. “I encountered hell on that
smuggler’s ship. I couldn’t have survived, not without Donovan’s support. His
great kindness is all that carried me through the darkest time of my life,
captain. And now you’re asking me to betray him—I cannot, I will not-- ”

“I understand, you feel grateful to him for caring for you
when you were at your weakest point. But, I don’t intend to leave you trapped
in another hell, one made of gratitude. I’m here for you, Elizabeth. I’m here
to help you, in whatever capacity you require.”

“No. You do not understand.” Elizabeth returned with
vehemence. “I love my husband. I could never leave him! I know I said yesterday
that if we lived in England I might have gone to stay with my grandfather for a
time--” She paused, sniffling as emotion overcame her.

Damn it, Jack. Take a hint. You did your gallant knight
routine and she’s refused you.

“If we lived in England—“ Elizabeth went on after composing
herself, “It would be a few day’s journey by coach to my grandfather’s estate
and it would be an extended visit until Donovan decided he wished me to return.
We are not in England, sir. I could never place myself at the mercy of rough
sailors for the duration of a sea voyage again, not to mention that by doing
something so reckless, I’d be destroying any chance of reconciliation. Donovan
would never journey to England to ask me to come back to him. He’d cut his
losses and divorce me.”

Donovan strangled a pained gasp, impaled by her lack of confidence
in his love for her.

“Thank you, for being concerned.” She continued in voice
heightened by strong agitation. “I’ve felt so alone here—and I never
expected—oh, please--just go—“

Donovan heard footsteps, and then the door closing. He
stood, pressing his forehead and his palms against the wall separating him from
his beloved. He winced as soft sobs wafted through the open window. Pushing
away from the wall, he turned with fists clenched, torn between the need to
comfort Elizabeth and the desire to go after Rawlings.

The weeping intensified. He strode into the room and
gathered her up into his arms.

“Why did you leave me alone with him? H-he—oh—it was awful!”

“You weren’t alone. I was on the veranda the whole time. And
please make note that should you ever leave me, I would cross hell to bring you
back to me.”

Elizabeth blanched, realizing he heard every word. “I’m
sorry, my lord, I’m so sorry!”

“No!” He chastened. “I’m the one who should be sorry for
making you unhappy, and I am, believe me, I am.” Donovan hugged her, vowing to
never allow her to suffer a moment’s regret again for becoming his wife.

Once Lizzie was calm, he marched down to the salon. Jack was
waiting for him.

“Well, are you going to call me out or not?” Jack asked with
amusement.

“How dare you make an obscene offer to my wife. I should
kill you.”

“You heard the lady; you are her preferred poison.”

Donovan gave the man his fist full in the face and then
quickly brought one leg behind the captain’s knees, disturbing his center of
balance. Jack landed with a thud, flat on his back.

“No!” The captain held up a hand to his companions. “This is
between him and me.”

Rawlings rolled up from the floor. Donovan assumed a
defensive stance as he waited for Rawlings to rush him. Jack did as he
anticipated. He turned about, grasped Jack’s arm and rolled the captain over
his shoulder in a move he learned in the east. Jack’s fall was interrupted by a
low table. Table and vase shattered. Jack groaned, his hand went protectively
to his backside.

“God’s tooth!” One of Jack’s men swore. “How’d he do that?”

Jack lurched to his feet. He offered Donovan a broad grin. “Oh,
she’s a fetching creature, to be sure.” He shook his head, grinning hideously.
“I didn’t believe for a minute she’d accept an offer from an old salt like me.
But I knew it would set your blood boiling. Makes the treasure seem that much
more valuable when you think someone wants to take it from you, doesn’t it?”

“You conniving squid’s dick!” Donovan spat. “You set me up.”

“Aye!” Jack snorted, thoroughly amused. “Let’s not quibble
about who set up whom. I knew you’d be hovering nearby, listening to our
exchange. And just look at you!” Jack made an expansive sweep with his hand
towards Donovan. “Frothing at the mouth like a rabid canine, ready to protect
what’s yours when twenty-four hours ago you weren’t speaking to the poor girl.
Damn it, you really don’t deserve her.”

Advancing upon him once more, the captain took another swing
at Donovan.

Chapter
Twenty Five

Donovan instructed her to remain in bed and relax.

Elizabeth couldn’t relax. He said he’d be back in a few
moments.

Surely he wouldn’t hurt the captain. Rawlings was his
longtime friend.

Oh, the poor captain. She threw off the covers and rose from
the bed, pacing as she worried for Rawlings’ well being. But--he asked her to
become his—it was unthinkable!

“I could provide for you to live comfortably under my
protection.” Her face burned as she recalled the illicit offer. How could she
bear to face that man again?

She couldn’t, she told herself as she limped about her
husband’s suite. She couldn’t face the man again without wilting from
humiliation.

And Donovan had heard everything. He overheard the indecent
proposal, and there had been murder in her husband’s eyes when he left.

 Elizabeth raised a jittery hand to her strangled chest. She
couldn’t bear to see that man again, but she didn’t wish him to be maimed or
killed for his indiscretion, either. With Donovan’s temper, the outcome could
be none other.

*******

Donovan sank down in the Queen Anne’s chair in the salon,
cradling his swelling cheek with a fresh piece of beef that was solicitously
retrieved from the cellar by the new butler.

“Perhaps a drink would steady your nerves, my lord? I
believe port is your preference.”

He was coming to appreciate why Elizabeth found Giles
appealing. The man was the epitome of decorous concern. “Yes. I would also have
a word with you as the head of the household staff. I’m disappointed with the
behavior of the maids in the courtyard yesterday.”

The butler handed him the libation with a sour face. “No
more so than myself, my lord.”

“What would have happened if I had not been there to take
care of Elizabeth?”

“I would have attended her, sir. When I was a lower footman
in England, my employer’s son suffered epilepsy. We were all given instruction
in how to care for Master Percival. I shall instruct the staff to be more
helpful in the future; unless you prefer to speak with them, sir?”

“No, you may deal with it.” Donovan wanted to point out that
his wife did not have epilepsy, the severity of her head injury merely brought
on similar symptoms. It seemed a weak argument, even to him. Only time would
determine if the seizures were transient, or if she was indeed cursed with the
unfortunate illness. “Inform them I will not tolerate whispering about the
incident. My lady does not remember it and I’ll not have her hearing
exaggerated accounts from the servants. It would frighten her unnecessarily.”

“You may depend upon me, sir.” The stolid servant bowed and
withdrew.

 Donovan held the cold steak against his cheek and sipped
his port. He looked about the pristine salon that had been recently painted a
deep, sunny yellow. Sunbeams streamed through the windows, banishing the prior
gloom. Elizabeth was responsible for the pleasant changes. She exposed this
old, neglected house to the healing rays of the sun, just as her presence in
his life opened the cold, dark tomb that had been his heart.

And now, thanks to Jack’s malicious meddling, his wife had
the option of leaving him firmly planted in her mind. White hot anger suffused
his blood once more. He set the steak aside and rose with determination.
Duchamp wanted a position on land, did he?

Well, it appeared he had a job for the former king’s
assassin after all.

*******

Elizabeth sank down at her husband’s dressing table and
stared into the looking glass. She sniffled and scrubbed at her watery eyes
with the palms of her hands. Seeking distraction, she examined the items spread
neatly before her. She loosened the cover of a tin of ointment that smelled of
peppermint and lemon, sniffed it, and rubbed a small portion on the back of her
hand. It brought a warm, soothing sensation on her skin. The black silk sheath
Donovan wore when he pretended to be the count lay folded beside the ointment.
She held it in front of her face and gazed at her reflection through the
eyeholes.

The silk felt soft against her face. Cool and comforting. It
smelled like Donovan, of spice and tobacco. She wouldn’t mind his wearing it if
he were charming instead of boorish beneath it. Elizabeth imagined him playing
a highwayman for her amusement, stealing kisses from her and threatening to
steal much more once he spirited her away to his lair.

She banished the fantasy with a weary sigh. Playful and
Donovan didn’t combine easily in her mind. Somber, hard, demanding, those were
words that described him more accurately.

Dropping the mask, she opened a velvet case containing a
pair of silver handled razors. She traced the glistening edge of one with a
fingertip. Would he forgive me if he knew?

If there were to be a true reconciliation between them she
must confess her duplicity and face the consequences. Perhaps--if she were
careful to confess only the essentials to Donovan and avoid the particulars,
she might escape unscathed. The bare truth remained that she was a maid. As his
wife, that reality had to be breached at some point. There was no need for him
to know the rest.

Elizabeth pressed a fist to her lips. Her chest burned and
her throat ached. She had to be careful. Any chance of forgiveness would be
lost if he knew what took place in that dark hold. He assumed she’d been raped.
She did not correct his assumption. It was the same as lying, for it was within
her power to alleviate his concern and she chose to remain silent.

“Oh you stupid, reckless girl!” She told her reflection.

How could she tell him? Her husband possessed some rather
lofty ideas about honor. He might not be able to forgive her. He could divorce
her. Then again, he might feel forced to keep her out of duty but never look
kindly upon her again. The bleak prospect of enduring Donovan’s contempt for
the rest of her days was unbearable. She endured one man’s smoldering hatred as
a child, having little choice to do otherwise.

She would not endure it again as an adult. She’d run away.

Oh, but to where? She was in a foreign place, devoid of
friends, family or monetary support. She’d be forced to accept the type of
protection Captain Rawlings offered. She’d be at the mercy of feckless men who
would promise no future beyond her present ability to please them. It was a
frightening, desolate future. She couldn’t bear being thrust so low, beneath
the regard of all decent society forever. She covered her face with her hands
as she imagined being forced to entertain the most revolting men and submit to disgusting
acts to please them.

“Elizabeth?” Large, familiar hands circled her shoulders.
“What is wrong?”

Mortified by the grim prospect before her and the cruel
images conjured by her misery, Elizabeth lifted her head to stare at her sorry
reflection in the mirror. Dark stains shadowed watery, swollen eyes. Her nose
was red and her unbound hair was tangled from anxiously winding her fingers
through it. “Nothing, sir.” She swiped at her eyes and reached for the ivory
brush with the intention of busying herself with it.

“Ah, my mistake.” Donovan’s sarcasm sliced through her as he
snatched the brush from her before she could attempt to repair her appearance.
“Where is your maid?”

“I cannot say. S-she often disappears at this t-time.”

Donovan’s brow furrowed, but he refrained from commenting.
He didn’t need to.

“You will not fire her!” Elizabeth challenged as she held
his gaze in the mirror.

“I can, and I will.” He replied, his eyes narrowing. “A
lady’s maid does not wander off without her mistress’ permission. Her duty is
to attend you at all times unless given leave to take an afternoon for
herself.”

Elizabeth made a noise in her throat, quelling her fury. She
had little cause to champion Chloe when she herself had much to answer for. She
sucked in her breath, resolving to be meek in her lord’s presence and not
quarrelsome, for once. “She’s my only friend here.”

The quiet fury in his features made her insides twist into
an uncomfortable knot. She nibbled on her lower lip, aching to defend Chloe, to
demand that she stay, yet, fearful that her own standing with the man behind
her was severely weakened due to their continuing estrangement. She must be
careful. Years with Fletcher had taught her the virtue of biding her time until
the atmosphere proved favorable for bargaining with the devil. She had to calm
herself and find a reasonable argument for keeping Chloe, avoid the temptation
to rush into the fray, matching her fury with his and ultimately losing the
battle in the resulting clash of wills.