Chapter 18
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Dominic stood in Daphne’s dark bedchamber, watching the gentle rise and fall of her chest, the soft flutter of her lips. She slept on her side, knees drawn to her chest, clutching the black silk square embroidered with his monogram.
His grandmother’s pink teacup sat on the nightstand beside a wilting white rose in a small vase.
She’d been crying. Because of him.
Charlotte had said as much when she tried to prevent him from entering and he’d tussled with her strapping butler. But something fierce in his chest stopped him from returning to the hotel.
“I need to see her.”
“You saw her two hours ago.”
“I need to see her again. Just for a few minutes.”
One glimpse might quiet the craving. He’d raced across town in the dead of night, heart thundering, simply to stand in her room.
“Don’t make me call in a debt, Charlotte.”
“Consider it already paid.” Charlotte had pulled the ties of her wrapper as if tightening a noose. “If she wakes and wants you gone, I shall drag you out myself.”
He’d nodded, sworn he wouldn’t linger.
Yet here he stood.
He fought the urge to crouch by the bed, brush her hair from her face, prove she was real. To wake her and beg her forgiveness.
He meant what he’d said. He wanted to marry her. Not because he was duty-bound or plagued with guilt. Because he was in love with her.
In the stillness of her chamber, the familiar burn of hatred was gone. The need to make the world pay no longer pressed at his back.
He felt calm. At peace.
Never more certain she was his life now.
He lowered himself into the chair in the shadowed corner of the room and drew the ruby necklace from his pocket.
She’d worn it the first night he kissed her, when she’d driven him half out of his mind with need, only to tell him he could never give her what she wanted.
The list was seared into his soul.
Love—she was wrong about that.
She wanted to be someone’s everything.
There was no doubt she was his.
A family—he’d have no trouble there.
He wanted her as surely as he needed to breathe.
A home—ah, there lay the stumbling block.
He’d made a pact with the devil. Such bargains were hard to break.
Shadowmere was built on control. Surrendering it would be no easy feat. Yet there was nothing he wouldn’t do for her. He only hoped he wasn’t too late.
He closed his eyes, if only for a moment. Her scent and the sound of her breathing were enough to lull him to sleep.
His body surrendered to the quiet, to the warmth of her nearby, as though the world outside ceased to exist.
A hand rested on his knee, rocking gently.
“Dominic,” she whispered.
He blinked awake, unsure if he was dreaming. Someone had lit the lamp. An amber glow bathed the room.
Daphne crouched beside his chair, dark hair spilling over one shoulder. The low neckline of her nightgown offered a generous view of her breasts, rising and falling with each breath.
A familiar ache stirred.
Something softer settled in his chest.
“What are you doing here? You gave me a fright.”
He rubbed his eyes. “Forgive me. I know it’s late. There’s something I must give you. Something I want to say that can’t wait.”
Her gaze moved to the ruby necklace in his hand. “You forgot to return it to the jeweller? Good Lord, you’ve had it a week.”
The chair creaked as he shifted. “It was never on loan. I bought it for you. I’ve carried it in my pocket ever since.”
She looked at the necklace, then at him, and reached the wrong conclusion. “Dominic, we’ve discussed this. You don’t need to make amends for what happened in Lord Templeton’s ballroom.”
“That’s not why I bought it.”
“I hear Mr Woodcroft can sell sand in the desert, but you’re not a man who succumbs to pressure.”
Why did she not see the obvious answer? Because he’d made her believe he was ruled by duty, not his heart.
“I bought it because I wanted to own something you’d worn.” He paused. He daren’t confess how many times he’d held it and thought of her. “I have a strange compulsion to buy you the world.”
Her breath came a little quicker. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Tell you I’m not the soulless devil I’d have you believe?”
She smiled. “Your quest for revenge told me everything I needed to know about you. A soulless man doesn’t risk his life for a mother who died a decade ago.” She gave a small shrug. “And you brought me fire tools. A heartless devil wouldn’t care if I was cold.”
“Am I so transparent?” His gaze dropped to the open buttons of her nightgown. He’d come to regret never knowing the heat of her skin.
“My mother taught me to judge a man by his actions. I could list the ways you’ve been kind to me.”
“Except when I stole your voice.”
He brushed his thumb over the ruby.
“Yes, except then.” She winced as though the memory pained her. “You don’t know how hard it was for me to leave Shadowmere. To leave you.”
“You said the truest measure of a woman’s affections is that she stays when she’s free to leave.” The words tasted bitter on his tongue. “What was I supposed to think?”
“I wasn’t free. You put me in shackles when your pride answered for me. But that’s not the reason I sent for Charlotte.” She stood, pulling her hand from his knee. “I couldn’t bear another night there, surrounded by heathens.”
He shot to his feet, drawing her up with him. “You don’t think I could protect you?”
“It doesn’t matter. To stay is to condone it.”
He drew a calming breath. “You know my reasons for hosting them. The house my mother gave her life to save would have fallen into ruin.”
She shook her head as if he were a boy who couldn’t solve the simplest puzzle. “She didn’t give her life to save the house. Everything she did was to save you.”
He turned away, her words cutting to the bone.
His mother would not recognise him now.
“I like the power,” he admitted, staring at the wall.
“The true measure of power is having command over yourself.”
“You think I don’t know my own mind? You’d rather I smooth the coarse edges, become a man you could admire?”
She slipped her arms around his waist and pressed her cheek to his back. “I don’t want you to become someone else. There’s no man I admire more than you.”
He closed his eyes. He needed more than her admiration.
“Did you come to give me the necklace? To confess you bought it for me? Is that the news that couldn’t wait?”
“Not quite.” He faced her.
Perhaps she saw the pain in his eyes, the sorrow he’d carried for years. Her hand lifted before she seemed to think better of it. Then she brushed his hair from his brow and kissed him softly on the lips.
Something in that kiss unravelled the last of his doubt.
He’d been right to come.
His arms closed around her, the ruby necklace still tangled in his hand, and he deepened the kiss, drawing her closer as if he meant to anchor her there.
She opened for him, her hands clutching his coat with sudden fierceness, the kiss turning desperate.
And then he tasted it—the salt of her tears.
He drew back, saw more tears slide down her cheeks.
“What is it?” He searched her face, wiping them away with his thumb. “I overstepped. This was ill-timed. I shouldn’t have come here uninvited.”
She cupped his cheek, her light laugh confirming he’d missed the mark. “It’s not you. These feelings steal my breath. Dominic, there’s something I must—”
He touched a finger to her lips. Though he longed to hear more, she had to know why he’d come. “Let me speak first. Please, Daphne.”
She blinked tears from her lashes. “Very well.”
“The ruby is yours, though that’s not what I came to give you.” He tucked the necklace back into his pocket and drew out his mother’s ring. “I want you to have this.”
She pressed her hand to her mouth, eyes widening as he held the slender gold ring, a pale green peridot set between two pearls.
“No. I can’t take your mother’s ring.”
He placed it in her palm and curled her fingers around it. “It’s the only thing I care about, besides you. Why wouldn’t I give it to you? I’m in love with you. It will only ever be you.”
For a heartbeat she stared at him, lower lip trembling.
“Dominic …”
She swallowed hard, tears gathering on her lashes.
“I love you, angel.”
The words left him exposed. There was nothing left to hide behind. Now only her answer remained.
She lifted her gaze to his.
“Dominic, I love you.”
The breath left him. His throat closed around the question he couldn’t stop. “You love the man who visits you in the cottage? I’m not always him.”
She laid a hand on his cheek.
“I love the man who can bring a ballroom to its knees. The man who takes no prisoners. The man who trusts me enough to show me his softer side. I love all of you. The saint and the sinner.”
He closed his eyes, sliding an arm around the flare of her hip and pressing a tender kiss to her forehead.
“Come home with me.” He brushed his mouth against her temple. “I’m not the sort of man who picks daisies, but you’ll have my loyalty and my love.”
A breathless sound escaped her, half-laugh, half-sigh. “You’re precisely the sort of man who’d pick me daisies. But we can’t think about the future until we deal with the past.”
He swallowed, his throat dry. “The past could ruin us.”
“No, the truth will save us.” She eased out of his arms and showed him the ring in her palm. “If you don’t avenge your mother now, it will come back to haunt you.”
The thought struck like cold steel. Losing her would be worse than leaving his mother unavenged. He had endured a decade of secrets. He’d not endure another day without her.
The tenderness gave way to purpose.
“You search Mr Irving’s properties for the clerk. I’ll arrange to meet my aunt and see if she remembers my uncle acting as mediator.”