Chapter 25 #2
Not all relationships were steeped in deceit and treachery and betrayal and…and…lust…
Daria laughed, and waved. “Good evening, Rothesby.”
Argyll remembered himself and executed a bow in return.
When he had gone, Daria sank to one knee beside the scattered cards, as though nothing of consequence had occurred out here.
And in one way, was she right.
Nothing had.
Every part of Argyll’s life involved scheming. Battles. People were never as they seemed; everyone’s intent was malicious.
For a man who moved in twisted circles, discovering his wife with another man had meant betrayal.
Daria’s soft singing voice filled the air around them.
“The wind doth blow today, my love,
And a few small drops of rain,”
Argyll stood, transfixed, fists balled at his side.
“…I never had but one true-love…”
His chest tightened.
I love her.
There came no rush of terror.
A spark caught, and the warmth fanned softly and warm through him.
She was the joy he didn’t know there could be. The light. The good.
“’Tis down in yonder garden green,
Love, where we used to walk,
His breath eased.
It was a loosening of a lifetime of darkness, sin, pain.
Closing his eyes, Argyll angled his head back and drew in the clean, pure scent of the flowers around them.
“The finest flower that e’er was seen
Is withered to a stalk…”
It took a moment for him to register that her haunting song had concluded.
When he opened his eyes, he found his wife’s gaze upon him.
Abandoning the cards she had stacked, she began to rise.
Argyll closed the distance and, sweeping her up, took her lips in a gentle meeting—a tender union.
When he drew away, a dazed smile toyed with her lips. “What was that f—”
“I love you, Daria.” Emotion deepened his voice. Why had he ever feared this? Why, when in loving her, he had found life again. “From the moment you stepped into my life, you transformed me. You healed me when I did not know I was broken inside. You are my reason for being.”
Daria’s heart thumped quick against her breast.
“You love me?” she whispered on a caught breath.
“I love you.” His gaze radiated tenderness; it sent warmth sliding along her arms, and found its final place in her heart. “With all I am.”
“I don’t understand,” she whispered.
Her husband’s brow dipped. “I love you, Daria.”
“But before you said…I thought…”
“I should have said I was a fool.” He slowly traced his gaze along her face, as though he committed every line to memory.
“The very worst kind, Daria. And the truth is, I love you. Madly. Deeply. I love your courage.” His hand found her cheek, warm and trembling.
“Your refusal to surrender what you want.” His fingers drifted away and returned, unable to let her go.
“I adore how you are unabashedly you.” His every caress a benediction.
“I love you.” His voice broke. “I love you with a depth that terrifies me, and yet I cannot care about being afraid, because I love you more.”
Daria’s mouth began to tremble.
Horror sent Gregory’s eyes into a flare. “Daria?”
Gregory’s face, a face she loved above all others blurred before her.
“No! You are not allowed to cry. Absolutely not, my love.”
Tears slipped along her cheeks.
Gregory groaned. “Blast it, Daria! I am not allowed to blunder this.” He quietly cursed. “I’ve gone and cursed at you twice. My apologies, love.”
Crying and laughing, Daria brought her palms over her face.
“You are…you are…” Mumbling something that sounded a good deal like ‘rogue-charm-no-more’. “No tears. Absolutely not, Daria!” He guided her hands down. “Please,” he begged.
Gregory looked away; tracing his gaze over Lord and Lady Abington’s vast terrace. “I’m not as good at saying things when I mean them. When they are important enough, I cocked up our wedding ceremony.”
She sniffled. “I loved it.”
“Your family wasn’t there,”
“That was my choice.”
“And then I,” Sneaking a peak about like a boy in trouble, he lowered his voice even further. “ruined our damned wedding night.”
More tears fell. “That was also my fault. Not yours.”
His features grew strained.
“They are happy tears,” she promised him. “Look at me. I am the happiest I’ve ever been, because of you.
“You know, I used to be good at things such as this, Daria.” He yanked his cravat hard. “See, I would never have said that before.”
“I do not need the perfect words, Gregory. I just want real ones, and that is what you give me and that is one of the reasons I love you.”
He chuckled softly. “Do you know why, Daria?”
She shook her head.
His expression grew contemplative. She wondered if he saw her, or whether he was lost in his self-revelations. “I didn’t care before. I didn’t need to get it right. No one mattered.” His eyes found hers. “Before you.” Pain glinted in his eyes. “I hate the existence I made for myself.”
“It was lonely.”
He gave a juddering nod.
His vulnerability touched her.
“If you hadn’t been there, we wouldn’t be here,” she reminded.
The moon’s light played with his eyes, giving them a slight sheen.
She lost herself in them; not wanting to blink in fear of losing this moment. “Everything before this, Gregory—”
“Brought us together,” he breathed.
Gregory brushed his lips against hers, a touch more promise than kiss. “There was something I failed to share when you asked about the Poussin above our bed.”
She waited, held within his arms.
“I would never have noticed that painting,” he continued quietly, “had it not been for a somber pair standing before it that day. I took them for a young father and his daughter. A recent widower, I suspected. The girl could not have been more than thirteen.” He paused. “Shortly after, I purchased the piece.”
Daria stilled. Not long after, she’d returned to find it gone.
Warmth rippled through her, subtle and unmistakable, as though every part of her had gone suddenly alert.
“They were utterly absorbed,” he said. “It was they who drew my eye; the purity of their moment.”
Her breath caught. “Me?”
“Who else could it have been, Daria?” His voice gentled, deep with something that hurt and healed all at once. “It was you.”
His forehead rested against hers.
“It was always you.”
Her husband drew her in, and held her close, and gave her everything she’d ever dreamed of; and even more—dreams, she hadn’t known she wanted, until him.
From the moment she’d gone to Gregory, he had given her everything.
Reality came slipping through, unwelcome and unwanted.
Gregory inched back only enough to search her face again. The wool fabric of his flawlessly tailored coat pulled taut. “What is it?”
Already knowing the conclusion he’d reached, she rushed to assure him. “It wasn’t Craven. Nothing happened.”
His gaze remained still.
Daria didn’t even realize she’d dug her nail into her cuticle but for Gregory stilling her worrying.
“You’ve given me everything, Gregory,” The swallow she took was painful. “But I could not help you.”
She had to make herself look at him. “The Duke of Craven he will not forgive and…and I am sorry.”
The pregnant silence was unendurable.
And she couldn’t even bite at her fingers because her stoic husband kept his hold fast upon her.
“Pfft. To hell with Craven. It will be his funeral.”
Believing she’d misheard him, misjudged his response she peered at him.
Her husband’s features were at their smooth, unbothered set; his usual half-smile—the real one.
Her eyes widened all the way. “That is…it?”
Gregory lifted his broad shoulders once.
“Surely you must have some disappointment? That is the entire reason you married me.”
“Ah, yes, love.” Gregory’s dashing rogue’s smile deepened. “That is precisely the reason I cannot be disappointed. Craven did something good in his rotten life.”
He darted his tongue out and teased the shell of her ear. “Now, little raven,” he breathed.
Daria’s lashes fluttered.
“Would you like to take our place at the throne of society?” Gregory dipped his tongue into the hollow of her throat. “Or fly… away together?”
Light flashed behind her closed lids. She gasped. Her body jolting.
Together.
“Yes.” Gregory’s low rumbling laughter drifted in and out of focus; the sound distorted. “That is my choice, too, love.”
His voice, a husky murmur, retreated further and further.
Ink black crept forward.
Fly…
“…No…No…No…”
“Daria?”
Her husband called from afar.
“Crying,” she rasped, her warning.
“…Love…?”
Life left Daria’s legs.
Trapped in her immobile body, the earth spun fast without her.
“I am here!”
With the speed of a rapidly churning tide, The curtain of darkness receded. Light came forward in a rush; a ray of light blinding her, and sucked her forward.
Whimpering, Daria scraped at the front of her husband’s coat, wanting to climb inside.
“Shh.” Gregory’s voice was low at her ear. He rocked her against his chest. “I’m here.”
Her body drained, she needed to reach him. To let him know. “It is happening,” she said, her words, rolling together. “The prophecy.”
Gregory bellowed for the carriage, and returned his focus to her. “Daria, we are untouchable together.”
“I…” She stared desperately at him. “I want to believe, but I saw—”
He kissed her violently; stealing her breath, stealing the fear. “I believe in us. I see us.”
Her heart breathed. “Us.”
“Us.” His gaze locked with hers; burned through her very soul. “Let our love defeat your nightmares.”
He willed her to trust in him.
In them.
Daria smiled.