Chapter Four

With a hard lump swelling in her throat, Alexa pulled on her chemise with trembling fingers, then hurriedly stepped into her gold and sienna gown. She was trying to fasten the buttons up the back, struggling to no avail as she fought back a fresh round of tears. The gown made a tearing sound, but she no longer cared. She felt sick and disillusioned, unsure of herself, and sad clear to her soul. She refused to look at Damien, terrified of what she would see if she did, embarrassed by the way she had responded, at a loss as to why she had lost control.

She missed his approach, since his footsteps were muffled by the thick Tartan carpet, but at the touch of his hand she tensed. She steeled herself, prepared once more to do battle, but it seemed their battle was done. Instead she felt his hands on her waist, easing her own aside, doing up the buttons with a gentleness she hadn’t expected and an expertise that said more than words.

When he finished, he stepped away. “I believe this is yours,” he said softly, handing her the small slip of paper she recognized as her marker.

She swallowed past the lump as she reached for it with unsteady hands. “Thank you,” she said stiffly, taking the paper from his fingers, being careful not to touch him. He had surprised her again. She had been certain he would still expect payment, that the money was all-important, and she would have seen he collected every farthing. Now he had made her wonder about him again.

He stepped away from her, reached for her cloak and enveloped her in its gold satin folds. “Time’s running out. We’ve got to go.”

Time had run out for her hours ago. When she should have gone home but hadn’t. Even before she had come.

It had all been a lie, a wicked, evil game of some sort. And he had been a master. All through supper he had charmed her, pretending to show an interest in the same things she did, respecting her intelligence, acting as if her opinion really mattered. And more than once there had been that look, that expression of loneliness or longing. She wondered if he pretended that too. Or if it was the single thing in this whole unbelievable evening that had truly been real.

“Ready?”

“Yes.” She forced the word past her lips. Damien’s hand at her waist guided her toward the stairs. She wanted to shove it away, but she wasn’t sure she had the strength to stand on her own. Mostly, she just wanted to be gone from there. She wanted to be returned to her home, safely in hiding at Marden.

No matter what Rayne said, she would make him take her there.

*   *   *

Damien took a last glance at the clock. One-thirty. They had a little time left, but not much. Lord Beechcroft never arrived with his mistress, an actress named Sophie Lang from the Theatre Royale in Drury Lane, before two. The theatre dismissed at exactly one-thirty, and Beechcroft was as timely as he was randy. Damien’s original plan had called for a run-in with the baron on his way out of the tavern somewhere near dawn, after they’d both enjoyed an evening of pleasure in their respective ladies’ beds. Now … well, at the end of the evening his plans had somehow changed.

He pulled the hood of Alexa’s cloak up over her head to cover her fiery dark hair and they started down the stairs. Below them the taproom was sparsely filled with patrons, travelers mostly, while the upstairs rooms were occupied by wealthy young men and their mistresses. Affaires de coeur were all the crack, and clandestine meetings were what the tavern was known for, but of course Alexa didn’t know that.

They hurried down the stairs, reached the bottom and started across the room to the heavy oaken door at the entrance, when it opened with surprising force and a strong gust of wind.

“Bloody storm’s comin’ up,” said the graying bearded man who walked through the entry with a small cloaked figure on his arm.

Bloody Christ, Lord Beechcroft. He hadn’t been early in weeks. Damien knew that for certain. He had paid a small fortune bribing a serving wench to time the man’s arrivals and departures.

Beechcroft smiled as they walked past. “Good evening, Alexa, my dear. It is always good to see you … though I must admit, I hadn’t imagined our paths would cross in … such a place as this.”

Damien’s stomach twisted. He turned to see Alexa fighting with the hood of her cloak, trying to pull it back into place after the wind had blown it away.

“L-Lord Beechcroft,” she said. “I—I was just, that is we were just…”

He smiled wolfishly. “No need to worry, my dear. You may be certain that I am the height of discretion.”

Damien inwardly groaned. As discreet as the Morning Post. It was why he had timed the evening so carefully. Why he had chosen the inn in the first place. Beechcroft and his bloody loose tongue was the key to his plan.

The graying man turned in his direction. He was a baron, a lesser noble who aspired to higher rank and enjoyed any chance to create a hue and cry among the members of the ton. “I’d advise you to take better care, Lord Falon. A lady’s reputation is a highly valuable commodity.”

Damien forced himself to smile. “This is hardly the scandal it seems. The lady is here merely by chance. She was traveling back to Stoneleigh when a problem arose with her carriage. She stopped here only long enough for her coachman to see it repaired.”

It was a lame excuse and all of them knew it. The actress flashed a knowing, painted smile while the baron arched a disbelieving brow. On the morrow, the tale of Alexa Garrick at the Cockleshell Tavern in the company of the notorious Earl Falon would cross the lips of every scandalmonger in London. Alexa would be ruined.

Exactly as he had first planned.

“Let’s go,” he urged a little too harshly, feeling her tremble, and suddenly filled with remorse. Then again, perhaps this was some sort of justice, fate intervening to punish her for Peter, as he had meant it to happen from the start.

Alexa nodded vaguely. She was reaching the edge, he knew, on the verge of slipping over the brink into hysteria. Any other woman would have broken long ago. In truth, he was amazed at her composure, considering what he’d put her through.

She swayed a little, and he tightened the hold he had on her waist. With a brief farewell to Beechcroft, they made their way out the front door and down the flagstone path toward the stables. They had almost reached the carriage when the distant sound of hoofbeats filled the air. The sound grew louder, the animal pounding toward them at breakneck speed, its sharp hooves churning up mud on the road. They stared in that direction, watching the lone horseman’s approach, seeing him ride hell-for-leather through the high arch into the courtyard, his greatcoat flying out behind him.

He drew rein in front of the inn, sliding his huge bay stallion to a halt, dismounting even as the animal reared and pranced. He was a big man, Damien saw, thick-chested and heavily muscled across the shoulders. He started up the path toward the inn, caught sight of them from the corner of his eye and turned in their direction.

“Rayne…” Alexa whispered, the word coming out on a soft gasp of air.

Damien steeled himself as long strides carried the big man toward them.

“Alex!” the viscount said, addressing his sister by the nickname Damien had heard him use before. “For God-sake, what the bloody hell is going on?”

Alexa started crying. She didn’t mean to. Dear God, it seemed she’d been crying all night, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself.

“Oh Rayne…” Was that all she could think of to say? She stepped toward him, and he crushed her in his powerful arms.

“Are you all right? Tell me what has happened.”

“I’m f-fine. H-How did you find me? How did you know where I was?”

“Lady Jane had instructed her coachmen. She was worried for your safety. He shouldn’t be too far behind.” He gave her one last hug. “Now tell me what the devil is going on.”

“Nothing. Everything. L-Lord Beechcroft is here. He saw me with Lord Falon. Oh God, Rayne, what am I going to do?” She felt his body go rigid even as she’d said the word. Falon. Weeks ago, from the first time she had mentioned his name, Rayne had warned her away.

He stepped back from her now and turned his hard brown gaze on the earl. “I take it you have ruined my sister.”

A corner of Damien’s mouth curved up. He looked ruthless, brutal. But then that was exactly what he was. “It appears that is the case.”

Rayne swung a blow that would have sent another man to his knees. Falon stepped away from the punch, but still took the brunt of it. Heavy black hair fell into his eyes as he straightened to meet the challenge, and his lip started bleeding at the corner.

“I’m going to kill you,” Rayne said. “I’m going to do it with my bare hands and I’m going to relish every moment.”

“No!” Alexa thrust herself between them. She was shaking inside and numb all over. Dear God, would this nightmare never end? “Rayne you can’t do that!”

He tore his eyes away from the earl. “For once you are right, little sister. That isn’t the sort of thing a young lady should be privy to.” He turned back to Falon, who wiped the blood from his mouth with a handkerchief, then stuffed the red-stained cloth into the pocket of his tailcoat. “I shall expect you and your second at dawn tomorrow,” Rayne said. “Green Park should do. You’ve the choice of weapons, of course.”

“Dear God,” Alexa said.

“As you wish,” said the earl. “Pistols will suffice. You may count on my timely arrival.”

“Have both of you gone mad?” Alexa turned to her tall determined brother. “Rayne, you can’t do this. Lord Falon has already killed three men—the same thing could happen to you.”

“Thank you, dear sister, for your vote of confidence.”

Ignoring that, her stomach in knots, she turned to face the earl. “Lord Falon, my brother has served in the army. He’s a crack shot with a gun. Surely you at least have an instinct for survival. Can’t you see that if you go through with this, you may end up dead?”

Damien saw it perfectly. He knew Stoneleigh’s reputation and he didn’t believe it was exaggerated one little bit. He knew his own capabilities as well. Tomorrow at dawn, one of them would die.

He glanced over at the girl. Her hood had fallen back and her thick auburn hair gleamed like dark molten copper in the moonlight. Even with the tears still damp on her cheeks, she looked lovely. In the eye of his mind he saw her naked, felt the heat in his loins as he had held her pressed against him.

“Please, Rayne,” she said, “I’m begging you. I love you. I’ve already lost Papa and Christopher. I don’t want to lose you too.”

“Falon is the one who will be dead. You may count on it. And no one deserves it more.”

Alexa turned in Damien’s direction. “I don’t want either of you killed,” she said softly, surprising him again, as she had this night a dozen times.

He could still taste her kisses, smell her lilac perfume … he could still see the way she had looked at him across that small, candlelit table. He thought of the words she’d said as she faced him so proudly, words that had pierced him to the quick.

He fixed his gaze on her brother. “I know how much you’re looking forward to my demise,” he said, “but there is another way to settle this.”

“Oh, really?” said the viscount. “And just what way is that?”

“You can allow me to do the honorable thing. You can grant me your sister’s hand in marriage.”

“What!” Alexa gasped.

“You’re insane,” Stoneleigh said.

Not so insane, he thought. She would finally wind up in his bed, and best of all, he would control her fortune. The castle was in a state of disrepair, and though he was far from poor, he could ill-afford to restore as it should be. Who better to pay for it than Alexa Garrick, the woman who had destroyed his brother? Combined with the pleasures he would wrest from her luscious little body, what sweeter revenge could he have?

“It’s quite rational, really. I may not be the greatest catch in England, but I’m still an earl. Marriage to me will silence the scandalmongers and protect Alexa’s reputation. Besides, your sister wouldn’t be here if she didn’t have some feelings for me. Isn’t that right, my love?”

She started to rage at him, but he silenced her with a hard look of warning. “I know you’re upset, Alexa. All I ask is that you hear me out.” He turned to her brother. “I need a moment with your sister in private.”

“Not a chance.”

“Five minutes.” Damien’s mouth curved up. “If tomorrow is to be my last day, I don’t think that’s asking too much.”

Stoneleigh still looked uncertain.

“It’s all right, Rayne. Lord Falon isn’t going to hurt me.”

The viscount made a jerky motion with his head, and Damien led Alexa a few feet away. She looked up at him warily.

“What kind of a game are you playing at this time?”

“A deadly game,” he said. “The stakes are life and death.” He let her take that in. “I’m a very good shot, Alexa. If we go through with this duel, your brother may well end up dead.”

She tossed her pretty head in an effort at defiance he couldn’t help but admire, considering all she had been through. “Perhaps you’re afraid. Perhaps it is you who will end up dead.”

“Perhaps … The question is, are you willing to take that chance?” She glanced down at her gold satin slippers. The toes were wet, and it bothered him to think that her feet must be cold.

“Rayne has a beautiful wife and baby. I don’t want to see him hurt. I don’t want them to be hurt.”

“Then marry me. It’s the only other solution.”

Her bottom lip trembled and her eyes searched his face. He almost reached for her, caught himself and glanced away.

“Marrying you isn’t a solution,” she finally said. “You’re a rake of the very worst sort. You’re a liar—and now that I think of it, probably a cheat. What kind of a life would I have if I married you?”

“I’m not a man to make promises. I can only guarantee that your reputation will be saved and that you will be a countess. That as my wife, I’ll protect you with my life, and I’ll never mistreat you. I can tell you that if you don’t marry me, by tomorrow at dawn your brother may be dead.”

“It’s my money, isn’t it? That’s what you’ve been after from the start.”

“I won’t deny marrying an heiress is attractive, but the simple truth is I don’t wish to die—nor end up killing another man. On top of that, marrying you is the right thing to do. I am, after all, the gentleman who ruined you.”

“Gentleman! You’re a devil in gentleman’s clothes.” She eyed him from top to bottom and worried her lush bottom lip. She sighed. “All right. If Rayne is determined to go through with the duel, I’ll marry you, but it will have to be a mariage de covenience.”

“Not on your life. You’ll be my wife in every way, or I’ll accept your brother’s challenge.” He made a gesture of nonchalance. “Who knows, maybe you’ll get lucky and I’ll be the one who gets killed. Then again—”

“There’s a problem you haven’t considered.”

“Which is?”

“Even if I say yes, my brother won’t agree to the marriage.”

He smiled. “He will if you convince him we’re in love.”

“In love!”

“Everyone knows how cockle-headed he is over his own wife. He’ll agree if you tell him I’m the man you love.”

“I’m not that good an actress.”

“Think of the life you’ll be saving.”

“Only at the price of my own.”

Damien winced. It was true, wasn’t it? She’d be miserable married to him. He would bed her and ignore her. He cared nothing for her. He was only after her money, and of course her sweet little body. The feelings she stirred, the pangs of conscience he’d thought long dead, meant nothing. He didn’t care about her—he couldn’t afford to.

“Alex!” The viscount’s authoritative bark carried clearly across the courtyard.

She walked toward him like a proud young aristocrat making her way to the guillotine. “Are you bound and determined to go through with this duel?” she asked.

“Of course I am. The man has ruined you. What the bloody hell do you expect me to do?”

“I expect you to think of Jocelyn and little Andrew Augustus.”

“I am thinking of them. I would protect their honor just as I am protecting yours.”

Men! She would never understand them. Releasing a breath of pent-up air, she rested a hand on his arm. “There’s another way to handle this, and we both know it. Lord Falon wants to marry me. He says he’s in love with me, and I’m … well, I’m in love with him.”

“For Godsakes, Alex. The man is a bounder. He hasn’t a feather to fly with, to say nothing of the fact he’s seduced half the women in London. He’s been accused of smuggling, and I’ve even heard it said he’s a spy.”

“Lady Jane says he isn’t all that poor, and I’ve heard things nearly as bad about you.” Rayne opened his mouth to argue, but she cut him off. “At any rate, none of that matters. What’s important is Lord Falon loves me and I love him. Besides, I—I … there’s always the chance that I’m carrying his heir.”

Rayne swore foully. “I had hoped—I thought possibly…”

Alexa flushed crimson, and on seeing it, for the second time in a very long time, Damien felt a pang of guilt.

“All right, Alex. You may marry the man, if that is truly your wish. All I want, all I have ever wanted, is to see you settled and happy.” Hard brown eyes swiveled in Damien’s direction and fixed coldly on his face. “As for you—you may rest assured that I will be checking on my sister’s welfare. You will answer to me, should harm come to her in any way.”

He nodded. “I never doubted it. As for the marriage … three days hence should be enough time to arrange things.”

The viscount looked at his sister, who had grown exceedingly pale. “The parish church at Hampstead on Saturday next,” Stoneleigh said. “The vicar is an old family friend. He’ll see the service performed with as little inconvenience as possible.”

Damien walked over to Alexa and reached for her hand. If felt as cold and brittle as a winter leaf. For the first time, he realized the importance of the step he was taking, and exactly what he was taking from her.

“It’s all right, Alexa,” he said softly. “Everything is going to work out.” He brushed his mouth against her hand and ignored the tremor that passed through it. What mattered was Peter and accomplishing what he had set out to do. The chance to set things right had reappeared, and this time he would not be deterred from his purpose.

He forced himself not to think of the haunted look in Alexa’s eyes or the trembling in her hand.