chapter Fourteen
The light grew brighter, blinding Bane until his eyes adjusted. The figure behind the lantern was masked by the glare of the light, but he had no problem making out the pistol pointing at Mary. His stomach fell away.
‘What the hell are you doing?’ he growled. ‘Put that thing down before you hurt someone.’
‘Turn around and continue on.’ There was no ghostly voice this time.
‘Gerald,’ Mary exclaimed. ‘Stop this at once.’
Gerald? Now that was a surprise, but she had suspected the younger man.
Gerald laughed and it was an eerie sound that echoed off the cavern walls. ‘Do as you are told. Turn around,’ he said. ‘Bane, you go first. Watch your step, the rocks are slippery.’
‘It would be easier to see if you gave me the light,’ Bane said, hoping the boy would be stupid enough to try it.
‘Don’t worry, you’ll have plenty of light in a moment. Walk straight ahead and you will be fine.’
He lifted the lantern higher and Bane was able to make out the path ahead. They came to an outcrop of rock and the path disappeared around it.
‘Stop,’ Gerald commanded.
Bane did so. He reached back to where Mary was holding on to his coat and gave her hand a squeeze, offering comfort, hoping she would realise he was biding his time, waiting for an opportunity that would allow him to deal with this mad man.
His gut clenched. Fear that he would fail Mary, as he had failed his mother. No. He wasn’t a weakling boy held down by a full-grown man. He just needed patience. To wait until the time was right.
‘Against the wall, both of you,’ Gerald ordered.
They shuffled back.
He passed by them, but since he had the pistol shoved against Mary’s chest, Bane could not risk an attack. He could see that the pistol was cocked and the lightest pressure on the trigger would cause it to fire.
And then he was past them. ‘Here.’ He handed Bane a lantern and stepped back. ‘Walk straight ahead.’
‘It seems you have thought of everything,’ Bane said, holding the lantern up.
‘I wasn’t expecting both of you,’ Gerald said. ‘Just Miss Wilding. But this is better. Much better. Don’t try anything, Bane. Miss Wilding will confirm I have my pistol pressed to her neck.’
Mary gasped.
Bane’s blood froze. He stifled a curse. He was going to make this man pay.
The skin across Bane’s back tightened as they headed into yet another narrow tunnel. A draught of cool air blasted through it and when they reached the end and it once more opened out, Bane could see why. This cave led out to open water. He could see the waves washing into the mouth of the cave a few yards away.
They were standing on what looked very much like a quay with a boat lying on its side on a narrow strip of sand. It was tied to a ring set in the rocks.
Judging from the way the seaweed grew up the walls, when the tide came in, where they were standing would be underwater.
‘You weren’t thinking of going for a midnight sail?’ Bane said lightly. ‘I don’t think Miss Wilding is very fond of boats.’
‘You didn’t care about that when you booked her passage from St Ives,’ Gerald said. ‘But actually, no, the only one going sailing is me. You will be staying here.’
He waved the pistol. Bane prepared himself to jump and bring the little worm down.
The pistol steadied on Mary once more and Bane unclenched his fists. He did not want to give advanced notice of his intentions.
‘Miss Wilding,’ Gerald said, ‘would you be so good as to take the lantern from your fiancé?’ His voice dripped with sarcasm.
Bane handed it over, glad to have two free hands, but he didn’t like it that it made Mary an easier target. She looked as pale as a ghost in the lamplight and her eyes, her pretty blue eyes, were large and frightened. He wanted to tell her not to worry, that he would think of something, but he could only give her an encouraging stare.
‘See those chains beside your feet, Bane?’ Gerald continued. ‘The one with the manacles attached.’
Coldness bored into Bane’s gut as he looked at the manacles. ‘I see them.’
‘Kneel and fasten one to your wrist.’
‘No,’ Mary said, her face full of horror. She’d guessed, like Bane had, the purpose of those chains. ‘This is absolute nonsense. Gerald. You cannot do this. Don’t you realise murder is a hanging offence?’
Gerald tittered. ‘What a preachy schoolmarm you are. Just like my tutor, until I found a way to be rid of him.’ He grinned. And the evil in that smiling angelic face made a shiver run down Bane’s back. More than oddness resided in his cousin, he realised.
‘Mary is right,’ Bane said. ‘You can’t get away with this. And when the crime is discovered they will think it was Jeffrey.’
Gerald frowned. ‘Why would they think it was him? Not that they will think it was murder. I have it all planned. They will just think you fell in the sea and drowned. You should have drowned anyway,’ he said, flashing a look of hatred Bane’s way. ‘For years everyone thought the woman and child pulled from the sea the day your mother ran off was you.’
Bane wondered if he should threaten him with Templeton’s expected arrival, but he had the feeling he needed to keep that card close for the moment. ‘Any suspicious death of a peer comes under scrutiny and Jeffrey is the only one who benefits by my death.’
‘Put your hand in that manacle. Now. Or I will shoot Miss Wilding.’
‘And how will Jeffrey explain a bullet wound to the authorities?’
Gerald frowned. The pistol wavered. Then his face cleared. ‘I’ll tell them you shot her to get the money. And when I tried to protect her, you fell in the sea.’
Bane cursed. The lad might not be right in the head, but he had a chillingly cunning mind.
‘Do as I say. Now. Or she dies.’ He lined up the pistol on Mary’s chest. Mary was looking at Bane in mute horror, expecting him to do something. Anything he could do right now would get her killed.
He did not want to put his wrist in that manacle, to willingly chain himself to a wall and leave himself helpless. He felt sick at the thought. But there was no other option, if he was to keep Gerald from firing his weapon. Gritting his teeth, he knelt on the cold hard rock and closed the iron around his wrist.
It was tight, but it wasn’t yet locked.
Gerald grinned as if he’d read his thoughts. He held up the key. ‘Catch it. If you drop it, I will shoot her in the head.’
Cursing inwardly, Bane caught the key and turned it in the lock. His insides rebelled at the sound.
‘You can throw it back,’ Gerald said. ‘Be careful, I wouldn’t like Miss Wilding to suffer for your poor aim.’
‘Let her go, Gerald,’ Bane said. ‘She is a pawn in all of this.’
‘She is a witness.’
Surreptitiously, Bane tugged on the chain. It seemed solidly attached, but that didn’t mean one good hard tug wouldn’t pull it free. ‘She would probably just as soon marry Jeffrey as me. She was only doing it because I forced her.’
Gerald glanced at her.
Bane noticed she’d shifted, moved away from the wall and... Oh God, she still had the damned poker hidden in her skirts. If she tried that, he’d shoot her for certain.
‘You know, Gerald,’ he drawled, ‘if you kill her, the money will be tied up in Chancery for years. Why do you think I didn’t do it? Jeffrey won’t thank you for it.’
‘What?’ The boy faced him. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘If she dies before she marries, the money goes to the Crown.’
‘No. You are wrong.’
‘I can assure you I know what I am talking about. Why else would I offer for her?’
The pain on Mary’s face clawed at his chest, because she believed him. And it wasn’t far off the truth. He would never have given marrying her a thought if it not for the money. He hadn’t wanted to marry anyone. He only wanted justice for his mother.
‘It’s a trick,’ Gerald said, glaring at him. ‘Put your other hand in the manacle.’
‘It is no trick.’
‘Do it,’ Gerald yelled, his voice rising.
The boy was getting anxious. Too anxious. Bane did not want that weapon going off by mistake and injuring Mary. His stomach lurched as he used his chained hand to close the manacle around his other wrist.
Gerald bent and locked it.
Bane lashed out with his foot at the gun as the key turned. He missed. But he managed to knock Gerald’s arm, destroying his aim.
‘Run,’ he yelled.
Damn the woman, she wasn’t listening. In awe and horror, he watched as she swung the poker. It hit Gerald’s wrist. The gun flew out of his hand and skittered across the ledge. Bane willed it to fall into the sea. Dear God, the sea... While they had been bickering, the tide had been coming in. The boat was already afloat.
Gerald howled with pain and rage. He grabbed for Mary, who dodged him.
‘Run, Mary,’ Bane shouted, yanking on the chains, the iron biting into his wrists. ‘Run. Save yourself.’
An agonised look crossed her face, then she turned and fled.
Gerald nursed his wrist for a moment, then picked up the pistol. He turned on Bane. ‘I’ll get her. And I’ll make her marry Jeffrey. And it will be a proper Beresford who inherits the title. Not a bastard. My grandfather never wanted you as his heir.’
‘I already inherited,’ Bane said conversationally, judging the distance between them, trying to get under the lad’s skin, to get him closer. A couple of feet and he’d have him. ‘There will never be another Beresford heir.’
Gerald swung at Bane with the pistol and, chained as he was, he had no way to avoid the blow other than by turning his shoulder.
Pain exploded in a bright white light and his world went dark.
* * *
His head not only ached, but it felt like it was stuffed with wool. His ears were filled with the sound of rushing water. Was he cupshot? He opened his eyes. To blackness. And the smell of the sea. And the sound of waves. Water washed over him. Cold. Bringing him wide awake. He coughed and spat out the salt in his mouth. His mind cleared. Realisation colder than the air around him.
He’d allowed that little worm Gerald to chain him up. He shuddered as he realised he was helpless.
Fighting the insidious sensation of fear in his gut, he yanked on the chains. They’d looked rusty and old, but, no matter how hard he pulled, they didn’t give.
Another wave rushed in and he fought to stay upright on his knees. This time when the sea receded, the water lapped around his legs. The tide was coming in fast. Fifteen minutes. That was all he had left of his life. Unless he could break the damn chains.
The thought of Gerald hurting Matry pierced his heart to the point of anguish. He had to get to her. Make sure she was all right. Feverishly he tore at the chains holding him fast. Pain gnawed at his flesh, but he barely felt it. He took a deep breath, tensed every muscle in his body and pulled with all of his strength.
Pain was his only reward. He roared his anger and it echoed back at him. He sagged against the rocks, to recover his strength. To try again.
Sick horror filled his gut. Mary. He’d failed her, just as he’d failed his mother.
For days he’d tried to ignore his growing attraction. To keep himself aloof from emotions, as he had taught himself to do. After watching his mother die slowly of her injuries, because of him, he had known he could never again expose himself to the pain of losing someone else. Overcome by guilt, he had sworn he would never allow himself the privilege of another’s love. He didn’t deserve love.
He still didn’t. But Mary, with her quick humour and courage, had made him want more than vindication for his mother. She’d made him want her, when he had known all along that he shouldn’t. And now he’d failed her, too.
If only he could know she’d escaped. If he knew that for certain, he wouldn’t care about the sea encroaching higher with every cold wave.
Because he loved her more than he loved his own life.
He loved her.
The thought filled him with despair. He’d carelessly put her in terrible danger. Again he yanked on the chains.
A glowing figure in white floated towards him. The seawater had affected his brain, because what he was seeing was the White Lady. There was no mistaking the feminine figure outlined beneath the filmy robe and her long hair floating behind her.
His heart pounded wildly. Was this the signal that he was about to die?
‘Bane,’ she called out.
Not a ghost. But, oh damn, he wished it was. ‘Mary,’ he pleaded desperately. ‘I told you to leave. Go before he finds you.’
‘I—I hit him over the head with the poker,’ she said, crouching down. ‘I—I think I killed him.’ Her voice wavered badly. ‘I have his pistol.’
Relief washed through him. Dear God, never had he met such a courageous woman or one so frighteningly resourceful. ‘Do you think you can shoot at the pin holding me fast to this wall without killing me?’
She chuckled. ‘Probably not. But I have something better.’ She put down the lantern and reached for his hands. ‘I have the key.’
The next wave was coming. He could hear it rushing into the cavern. He held his hands steady while she fumbled with the lock. ‘Whatever you do, don’t drop it.’
‘I’ll try not to,’ she said, her voice grim.
The first shackle fell away. But he could see the wave rolling towards him in the light from the lantern. ‘Get back,’ he said, hating the idea of her moving away from him, but terrified that the next wave might carry her off.
Instead of doing as he said, she continued jiggling the key in the lock. And then it was open. He leaped to his feet and picked up her and the lantern and ran from the onrushing wave.
‘Oh,’ she said when he put her down. ‘That was...remarkable.’
Cold and shivering, he leaned against the wall of the cave. ‘Where is he?’
She took the lantern from his numb fingers. ‘I hid in the muniment room and tripped him with the poker as he ran by. Then I hit him over the head and pushed him inside. I barred the door with the poker. Just in case.’ She winced. ‘But there was blood on his face.’
A very clever woman, his Mary. His? His heart stilled. His mouth dried. He would be lucky if she agreed to speak to him again after the way he had endangered her life. And he wouldn’t blame her at all.
He put an arm around her shoulders. ‘Let us make sure he is no danger to us or anyone else, then find some dry clothes and a warm fire.’
She nodded, but her eyes were huge, her face pale and her expression fearful. He cursed the day he was born for causing such a look on her face.
* * *
Gerald was screaming invective when they reached that part of the tunnel. He’d managed to get the door open a fraction, but he barely seemed rational and was tossing papers and boxes around as if they were live things he was trying to murder.
Bane hurried Mary past and got her back to his chamber. He rang for his man and then sent him for her maid and a bath.
‘I can’t bathe in here,’ she cried.
‘You are not going back to a room that has a secret entrance,’ he said. ‘You can rest easy, I won’t disturb you. There are many things I need to take care of before morning. But not until I am sure you are well protected.’
There was a strange look on her face. He wanted to ask her what she was thinking, but he didn’t have the right. He had taken far too many liberties already.
A sleepy-looking Betsy arrived, followed by two footmen with a tin bath and another two with buckets of water.
Bane skewered the maid with a look. ‘Take care of your mistress. She has been through a great deal this night and deserves every consideration.’
Betsy’s mouth gaped. She dropped a curtsy and hurried through the door. Bane turned and left before he was tempted to remain, to help Mary bathe and see her safe to bed.
By letting his attraction for her overcome rational thought, he’d cause her a great deal of harm. She could have died.
And it would have been his fault.
The very idea almost sent him to his knees.
More guilt on his shoulders, heavier even than the death of his mother. Only this time he had a chance to atone.
* * *
It was almost mid-afternoon by the time Bane was able to seek out Mary. She’d slept until well past noon, he’d been told, and she was now in the drawing room.
Unable to resist looking his fill unnoticed, he paused outside the open door. She was sitting quietly gazing out the window, her hands folded in her lap, her thoughts clearly elsewhere.
So beautiful. An island of calm in a frenetic world. Only he knew the passion residing beneath the quiet exterior. Only he knew the wildly seductive woman below the unruffled surface.
Guilt assailed him. No true gentleman would have taken advantage of her innocence the way he had. He’d forced her into making a decision before he had all the facts. He’d wanted to believe she was up to some trick with his grandfather. He’d wanted to believe seduction was fair play, because he wanted her in his bed when in his heart he’d known better.
He was lowest kind of cur.
And when she found out the truth, how he had put her life in danger for his own selfish ends, he wasn’t sure of her forgiveness. Nor did he deserve it.
He cleared his throat.
She jumped. Then flushed pink.
‘My lord.’ Only a tall, elegant woman like her could carry off that regal incline of her head.
‘Miss Wilding.’ He bowed.
Her eyes widened. A wary expression crossed her face. She smiled coolly. ‘You have arranged everything to your satisfaction?’
‘Yes. Gerald and his mother have been escorted by the doctor to York. She convinced me to allow Gerald to live out his days in an asylum there. Apparently this is not his first episode. His grandfather always put it down to an excess of sensibility. His mother suspected it was more, but didn’t want to believe it.’
‘I feel sorry for her. He...he won’t be badly treated, I hope.’
He’d been ready to give him a quick end such was his anger at the danger inflicted on her. ‘If that is your wish.’
She turned her face away. ‘I hardly think my wishes are important.’
‘He tried to kill you.’ This time he could not keep his anger from surfacing.
‘And you,’ she said softly.
He waved a careless hand. ‘If you can be magnanimous, then so can I.’
‘And Jeffrey?’
‘Like Mrs Hampton, he always knew Gerald was highly strung. He treated him with kid gloves and jollied him along. It never occurred to him that Gerald would act on his grandfather’s continual complaints.’
‘You believe him innocent, then?’
‘I do. His horror and abject apology for not seeing what was going on were most convincing. You see, Jeffrey has money troubles. He was hoping to turn me up sweet for a large sum of money. The will made it all very difficult, as he had said to his cousin. He feels guilt for adding fuel to the fires in his cousin’s head, but he would have stopped him if he had realised what he was doing.’
‘So it is all settled.’
‘Yes.’
He couldn’t help looking at her, at the turn of her neck, at the faint pink blush on her cheeks, the bright sky-blue of her eyes. Because this might be the very last time he got to see her. She’d saved his life, while he’d done nothing but put hers at risk. Every time he thought about it his gut tightened and his blood turned to ice.
‘I have to apologise to you for my behaviour these past several days,’ he said.
Her gaze shot to meet his. Her chin came up. ‘Your behaviour?’
His heart squeezed. She didn’t trust him. She never had and with good reason. ‘I have not treated you with the respect and honour you deserve.’ He took a deep breath. ‘I suspected you of colluding with my grandfather’s machinations.’
‘To what end?’
He looked at her, the heaviness in his chest almost unbearable. ‘I didn’t know. But I suspected there had to be something that would deprive me of my rightful inheritance. Something that would be revealed once we wed.’
A small crease formed in her brow. ‘Yet you insisted we marry?’
Because he’d decided he could deal with any plan of his grandfather, once he had his instrument under his control. Liar. He’d wanted Mary in his bed.
She deserved so much more.
She certainly deserved better than a bastard for a husband who had not protected what was his. His fists opened and closed. Fear squirmed like a live thing in his gut. He pushed his roiling emotions behind a wall of ice the way he’d learned to do as a boy. At some time in the future they might bear closer examination, but not now, when it would take all his strength to do the right thing.
Squaring his shoulders, he strolled into the room. Her quick smile warmed him like the midsummer sun, but he shielded his heart in icy determination.
‘What is wrong?’ she asked.
Already she understood him too well. ‘Word from Templeton has arrived.’
Her gaze sharpened.
‘The will is undeniably flawed. He signed his father’s name, not his own. Two names reversed. So small a mistake, it took ages for anyone to spot it. Whether it was intentional or because of infirmity, we will never know, even though I suspect the latter. Whatever the case, it will not stand.’
She gazed at him for a long moment, beautiful, clear blue eyes revealing the working of a bright intelligence. He could almost see the implications tumbling through her mind.
‘I am not then an heiress who must marry within the year?’ she finally asked.
‘But we will marry,’ he said. ‘The settlements will be generous, you can be sure.’
He waited, his mind, his whole body, alert for some sign as to her response to his announcement. He didn’t expect this to be easy, or go well.
A small crease formed between her finely drawn brows. Her gaze dropped to the still hands in her lap, effectively hiding her thoughts. He wanted to counsel her not to speak precipitously, not to rush to judgement, to consider the advantages, but he had been forcing her to his will from the moment they met. No longer. He didn’t have the right.
She had saved his life.
What he wanted, what he hoped, was that she could conclude that what he suggested was the right choice, the sensible choice.
‘Why?’ she said to her hands. She lifted her gaze. ‘Why should we marry?’
She demanded he argue his case after all.
‘Surely the reason is obvious.’
A blush said she understood his meaning perfectly well. He let go of a sigh of relief. He’d feared she’d balk. Feared it badly enough to hold his breath like a schoolboy longing for a treat.
She shook her head. ‘I won’t do it.’
For a moment, he didn’t believe what he heard. Then realisation hit with the force of a blow, shattering his soul to nothing but shards that pierced his heart in the aftermath.
He strode to stand before her, gazing down into her lovely, sorrowful face. He loomed over her, letting her see his disbelief. But not the damage. Never that. ‘You are not thinking clearly,’ he said.
She rose to her feet, tall, magnificent, her flashing eyes almost on a level with his. An angry goddess about to smite some lesser mortal.
And after the way he’d behaved, it was just. But he wasn’t going to let her go without a fight. ‘Honour demands—’
‘Your honour, not mine. As I told you before, I do not move in circles that bind me to your notions of honour.’ A flicker of comprehension passed across her face. ‘And besides, if the will is broken, then you can no longer claim guardianship. You cannot keep me against my will, or force me to wed you.’
Oh, his Mary was indeed clever.
Only she was not his. And never really had been his. He should have known better than to think, to hope, she might yet find him of some worth. Still, he could not let her go without one more attempt to find common ground.
‘Hear me out, at least,’ he said.
Her eyes were as cold as the grave. ‘Very well.’
‘The tables have turned, yes, but it does not mean we should not marry. I am no woman’s first choice of a father to their children, with my own parentage in doubt, despite my mother’s denial of wrongdoing.’
‘You doubt her.’ She spoke flatly.
‘I just don’t know. She fled. If she was innocent, why would she not have stood her ground?’
‘Sometimes that is the easiest way for a woman.’
He’d made her flee, too. He heard the condemnation in her voice. ‘Think of the advantages. I am wealthy. I can provide for you. Protect you.’ He could see he wasn’t making any headway from the hard expression on her face. He started to panic. ‘Build as many schools for orphans as you decide are required.’
For that he earned a small smile. It was a start. A chink in her armour. ‘I’ll give you free rein. Your own allowance. You don’t have to see me from one year to the next, if you don’t want to.’ He would do his level best to make sure that didn’t happen.
She took a deep breath. ‘It is not enough.’
Dumbfounded, he stared at her. She turned and walked away, out of the door, out of his life.
Left him standing there feeling as if he had a hole in his chest the size of a cannonball. He looked down just to be sure he was still in one piece.
Damnation. Impossible, headstrong, wilful woman. And he’d thought she was the only truly sensible female he’d ever met.
He ought to lock her up until she saw reason. Except he’d tried that already. He could not hold back the small smile that tugged at his lips.
Now what the hell was he to do?
Manners scratched at the door and came in, disturbing his thoughts.
‘What?’ he snarled, then closed his eyes and grappled his temper into submission. ‘I beg your pardon, Manners, what did you require?’
Manners acknowledged the apology with a twinkle in his eyes. ‘Miss Wilding has requested the carriage for first thing in the morning. I told her that our carriage was with Mrs Hampton and that the earliest I could arrange for a hiring would be the day after tomorrow. Did I do right?’
He could refuse to let her leave. Again. What would that get him, apart from her hatred? No. If leaving was what she wanted, if that would make her happy... Happy. The word painfully jiggled the shards in his chest. If leaving made her happy, he forced himself to continue, then that was what must happen. ‘Arrange it.’ He had one more day to find a way to change her mind.
The butler bowed himself out.
Happy. The word came back to lash him anew. She deserved to be happy. Between him and his predecessor, they’d destroyed her life. If he couldn’t do anything else for her, he could help her put it back together the way she wanted.
Finding this Mrs Ladbrook might be the key. But if Templeton couldn’t locate her, no one could. Then he would give her a school of her own.
Nearby. Where he could keep an eye on her. A school and a salary large enough to keep her in luxury. He would then have the excuse to ride over and see her from time to time, to inspect his investment.
His throat dried. She might not welcome visits from the bastard earl.
All right. He would have his reports second-hand. He would know she was safe, and from a distance he could protect her from harm.
The ache in his chest eased slightly.
And what if she found a man she did want to marry? What then? The thought of another man with the right to engage her wit in conversation whenever the mood took him, the right to touch her silken skin and arouse her passion... No. He would not think of his needs. This was about her happiness. Nothing else mattered.
Something burned behind his eyes.
He felt like a boy again, mourning his mother. Only this time, he knew it was different. There was no anger to balance the pain. No one else to blame.
* * *
‘You sent for me, my lord?’
Bane put down his pen and looked up. How was it that when she walked into a room she made it come alive? Or was it only him who came alive?
At this moment she looked worried. Expecting he would prevent her departure on the morrow, just as he had prevented it today, no doubt. She thought him that kind of cur. And he didn’t blame her.
‘Please, sit.’
She did so, sinking into the chair in front of his desk with natural elegance, her long slender limbs bending to her will, when he would much rather they would bend to his, her face calm and still, her eyes a deep shadowed blue.
Perhaps he shouldn’t bother her with this, but she wouldn’t thank him for making her decision for her. ‘I found something among the papers Gerald tried to destroy. You might find it of interest.’ He passed over the piece of parchment he’d read with astonishment only half an hour before.
Swiftly, she scanned the yellowed paper. A gasp left her lips as she raised her gaze to meet his. It was filled with wonder and disbelief. ‘But this is...’ She looked at it again.
‘From your father. It was he who consigned you to the earl’s care, in payment for some earlier favour. I am assuming our marriage was what was promised.’
‘Oh,’ she said, her whisper husky, her eyes still fixed on the words. The paper trembled in her fingers. ‘Oh.’
Tears tracked down her cheeks.
He’d made her cry. He’d thought she might be interested. Or even pleased. Tears he had not expected. He wanted to hit something. Better that than giving way to the pain at the sight of her anguish.
He got up slowly, afraid he might make things worse. ‘Mary,’ he whispered. He came around the desk to her side, put a comforting hand on her shoulder and was glad when she didn’t pull away. He dropped to his knees, put his head close to hers. ‘Mary, please. I would not have shown you this if I thought it would upset you.’
She swallowed and choked on an apologetic laugh. ‘You don’t understand. I’m not upset.’
With her shoulders hunched and one hand covering her eyes, she looked the very picture of misery. ‘You are crying.’
She raised her head and her watery gaze met his. ‘Don’t you see what this means?’
‘Your father undertook some sort of service for the old earl and this letter calls the favour in.’
She shook her head. ‘No. I mean, yes, that is what is says. But it also says he loved me. He says my beloved daughter. In his last moments in this life, he thought of me, his beloved daughter.’
He frowned. ‘Of course he did. You were his child.’
A tremble quaked her body. ‘I didn’t know. I understood he had sent me away when my mother died. That he didn’t want me. To know that I was loved...’ Her voice cracked and broke. She buried her face in her hands.
Bane remembered all the hugs and sweet kisses on his brow from his mother when he was young and swallowed the hot hard lump in his throat. He’d known without even thinking about it that he was loved. He’d known love in its purest form, even if he had lost it too soon. For years, he had shut himself off from its memory. Built walls of cold anger to keep the guilt at bay. The guilt for his part in his mother’s death. Now those walls were shattered, leaving him with his memories and vulnerable to her hurt.
‘Mary,’ he whispered. He swallowed again, for the words had been so long closed off. He cradled her face in hands that felt awkward and over large. ‘My darling. Look at me.’ A flood of emotion washed over him. Hope. Joy. And, yes, sweet warm love. They constricted his throat as her gaze met his. ‘Of course he loved you. I love you.’
He stilled, shocked by the sound of what he had said. Shocked by the fact that he had dared to put his feelings into words. ‘I love your wit and your courage. I love your beauty. But most of all I love you.’
Her mouth trembled as her gazed searched his face. ‘Please. I don’t need your kindness.’
‘When have I ever been kind to you?’ He brushed his mouth against hers. His lips tingled at this briefest of touches, wanting more. ‘It is I who needs kindness. All morning I’ve been plotting ways to keep you close, building a cage from which you could not escape. But I just couldn’t do it, sweet. It seems I can’t keep you against your will. I want you to be happy.’ He groaned. ‘But God, I don’t want to lose you.’
‘Oh, Bane.’ She flung her arms about his neck and sobbed against his shoulder.
He’d made her cry yet again. He was an idiot. He’d made things worse. Awkwardly he patted her back. Forced himself not to wrap his arms around her and kiss her until she forgot his promise to let her leave. He had wooed her with seduction once, he would not lower himself to doing it again.
Slowly her sobs subsided.
He handed her his handkerchief and stood up while she dried her eyes.
‘You meant what you said about letting me leave?’ she asked in a shaky whisper and the glimmer of a smile.
He nodded. The damnable lump in his throat did not allow for speech, but his eyes drank her in and he realised this would likely be the last time he would ever have a chance to be this close to her.
‘And if I wanted to stay?’
His heart stopped beating. He swallowed. ‘Stay?’ God, was that croak actually a word?
She stood up and, as always, he marvelled at how perfect was her stature, how elegant her neck, how feminine her figure. He had never seen her look more lovely, though her nose was red from weeping and her eyes still misty with tears.
To his surprise, she placed her hand against his cheek. Without thinking, he turned his face and kissed her palm before her hand fell away.
He felt its loss keenly.
‘I lied,’ she said so softly he had to lean closer to hear her words. ‘To you. To myself. I told myself I was trapped in this house by a man I didn’t trust with my life.’
‘You had every reason—’
She stopped his words with a finger to his lips. ‘My heart knew what my mind did not. It always knew to trust you. If not, I would have found a way to leave that very first day.’ A small smile curved her lovely mouth. ‘I think I fell in love with you the moment I saw you standing in the shadows like some dark avenging angel.’
Warmth trickled into all the remaining cold places in his heart. Her warmth. Her generous spirit. ‘You are saying you love me in return?’ he asked cautiously, fearing he had misunderstood.
Her smile broadened. ‘Yes, Bane. I am saying I love you.’
He felt his way forwards with care. ‘Then you mean to stay? To marry me?’
‘If you truly love me and want me.’
He crushed her against his chest, feeling the pounding of his heart against his ribs. But did she really know what she was getting into with him? ‘I almost got you killed. I wanted to keep you safe and I almost got you killed the way I did my mother. If I had done the same to you, I would have gone mad.’
She pushed back to look at him, a question in her eyes.
All the old guilt rushed back. ‘I don’t deserve your love. I don’t deserve anyone’s love.’
‘You don’t get to choose who loves you.’
‘You would not, if you knew the truth.’ Painful though it was, he forced himself to remember that dreadful day when his life changed for ever. ‘I was ten. We had an argument. I ran off in a temper to the mine with some of the local boys. She hated me going anywhere near it, but the other boys always taunted me about being a coward and it seemed like a good way to get my own back. It got late and she came looking for me.’
He inhaled a deep ragged breath. ‘We walked home in the dark, her trudging along behind me, because I was angry that she’d shamed me before my so-called friends. We were set upon by thieves. Big men. They held me down and they beat her. And there was nothing I could do. I could hear her crying out and the blows...’ The sickening sound rang in his ears. ‘I felt so helpless. She died of her injuries weeks later and not once did she berate me. But I knew. I knew it was all my doing. My temper that caused her death. I swore it would never happen again.’
‘So that is why you always seem so cold and controlled.’
Her understanding was extraordinary. He let go a sigh. ‘Always, until I met you.’
She smiled softly. But he hardened himself against his longing to kiss her. He wasn’t done.
‘I very nearly caused your death, too! What if you had died? I froze out the world after the death of my mother. Life would be unbearable if anything happened to you.’
‘What happened to your mother wasn’t your fault. Nor was what Gerald did.’
‘I know that. Yet in my heart I failed my mother and I failed you. How can you trust me to keep you safe?’
‘I don’t need you to keep me safe, I need your love.’
The truth of it was blinding. He almost fell to his knees at the revelation. Yet even as the fear was vanquished, more doubts surfaced.
‘I’ll never be fully accepted in society,’ he forced himself to warn her.
‘I don’t care about society. I only care about you.’
‘What about children?’
‘I want children.’ She tipped up her face to kiss his cheek. ‘Don’t you?’
‘Yes. I want your children. But...but I don’t know whose blood runs in my veins. I could be a Beresford, as my mother swore, or the son of a villain.’
‘And I am the daughter of a vicar. The mixture will be interesting, I am sure.’
He looked at her beautiful mouth with longing. ‘You are determined, then?’
‘Am I ever anything else?’
No, thank God. He kissed her until he was dizzy with wanting her in his bed. It was all he could do not to carry her off to his chamber and make sure this was not all a dream. Make sure she could never change her mind. But there was a better way to do that.
‘We will take that passage to London, first thing in the morning, and I will obtain a special licence.’
‘The banns will be read and we will be married in the parish church for all your people to see, as already arranged, according to my father’s wishes.’
‘You don’t know your father’s wishes.’
She looked down at the note in her hand. ‘Yes,’ she said softly. ‘I do.’
Tears burned behind his eyes at the tenderness in her voice. ‘I don’t want to wait weeks to have you in my arms, in my bed,’ he groaned. ‘but if that is your wish...’
Her arms came up around his neck. She kissed his lips, a small press of her lips against his, before she drew back with a smile. ‘There is absolutely no reason for us to wait until we are married, is there?’
‘You are a wicked woman.’
‘I’m a blue-stocking, remember.’
Right then, with his blood pounding in his veins, he couldn’t remember a thing except his need to be inside her. He picked her up in his arms and strode for his chamber, knowing only one thing. She was his and he was the luckiest man alive.