He's No Prince Charming (Ever After) (16 page)

He bared his teeth, turning his eyes away. “Whole and fair of face.”

She drew back in shock. He really thought her so shallow? Did he truly think she would preach true love, and risk everything to assist those who sought that happiness, but still care only for physical appearances?

She snapped back, “You are an ass!”

“Your fiancé must be a dandy, then. I’d rather be an ass than a dandy.”

Danni tugged her arm to free it from his grasp. Fighting tears of helplessness, she said the first thing she knew would hurt him. “No, not a dandy, but he is a whole man, not the mere shadow of one!”

He blinked, his eyes stark with pain. It was as if her voice had literally struck him, killing some inner part. He dropped her arm, his shoulders sinking. Danni instantly regretted her words, but it was too late to take them back. A hot tear streaked her cheek.

She almost didn’t hear him whisper, “You are right, Miss Green. I could never be a good man for you, or for anyone.”

He stepped away, the weight of his defeat drowning out all else surrounding her. Danni winced as his door slammed closed.

Danni remained frozen in place for several moments, trying to catch hold of her emotions. A sob broke free. Gasping, she pushed herself down the rest of the hall to her room.

What had she done?

D
anni sat on her bed, examining the same wall that had started her day. She decided white was a hideous and depressing color. Devoid of life, empty. She ran a sleeve across her cheeks, drying her tears, and then began readying herself for bed. Stripping down to her shift, she methodically folded her dress, brushed her boots free of the day’s dirt, and braided her hair. The temptation to crawl under her blankets and draw herself into a ball overwhelmed her. She’d never felt so alone.

She had to take care of things herself. She did not need anyone. Really.

Sighing, she tucked herself into bed, curling her legs closer to her body. She wished she could turn back the clock and change the outcome of the day. It had been so wonderful when Marcus gave her that beautiful dress. And she thought he was about to kiss her there in the village—she’d
wanted
him to, even with her soon-to-be fiancé’s image hovering at the edge of her thoughts.

And she’d had the best of intentions when she found the back entry to the inn. She’d wanted to help him. Then that vile man attempted to kiss her and Marcus’s pride had gotten in the way. It seemed everything she did, he misunderstood. She shut her eyes against her tears.

Her exhausting day had reminded her exactly where her priorities lay. Her brain knew she should be focusing only on retrieving and returning Ginny, but damned if she couldn’t seem to remember that when Marcus was around. He ran hot, showing her things that made her mad with wanting, and then cold, as if he could barely stand her presence. She pressed her eyes into her knees in confusion.

Most of all, Danni couldn’t believe what she said to him. She knew about his struggles, and knew her words would cut him deeply. He struggled with so many inner demons. She had no experiences that she could use to help him. She needed to apologize.…

She closed her eyes to sleep, willing the day to end, but blessed oblivion remained elusive. Tossing and turning, she finally lay on her back, until she decided she hated the brown on the ceiling as well. If she only knew what she was going to say the next time she saw Marcus, she wouldn’t feel so anxious.

A hollow knock at her door startled her upright. She frowned at the wooden barrier, uncertain if she should answer it. She had deserted all sense of propriety on this trip, but unbolting the door while a mass of drunken men feasted below was foolish. Any one of them could easily have stumbled to her room.

Another, louder knock echoed. It was followed by a familiar growl, announcing the identity of her visitor. She debated whether she was ready to talk to him. And she’d not yet decided what to say to him.

Sighing, Danni wrapped the blanket around her shift and approached the door. Had she not just been debating the best course of action to reopen lines of communication? If she rejected him now, she may never get another chance.

Lifting the latch, she pulled inward. Marcus leaned against the door frame, face carefully blank. Immediately, Danni realized something was wrong. Sweat spotted his forehead, his fists were clenched at his sides, and his body was unnaturally rigid. His tanned skin was an ashen color, making his scars stark and bleak.

“May I enter?” he bit out.

She stepped aside, worry about his condition erasing all her previous thoughts.

For half a second, she contemplated leaving the door open. But the last thing they needed was a patron to overhear their conversation. She turned as the door latched in place, finding herself inches from Marcus’s chest. He looked down at her from sunken eyes. The pupils were large and almost obliterated his beautiful green eyes. He looked as upset as she. Without thinking, Danni lifted her hand to his face, wishing to soothe him. His tired eyes widened; he caught her hand, holding it away from his face. “Don’t.”

She nodded, inexplicably hurt. His drained eyes drifted shut as a visible shudder racked his body. Heat radiated out of him in waves as he inched achingly close until he stopped, a hair’s breadth from full contact.

She longed to close the distance, to feel the familiar rush when he touched her. The thought of his hands running over her, pressing her closely, sent heat surging to her weak legs. She shuddered against the thickening haze clouding her thoughts, mesmerized by the sadness in his eyes.

“I’m so sorry.” His voice was choked with emotion. “I should not have said those things. I didn’t mean them.”

A rush of moisture blurred her vision. He seemed lost and alone, unsure how to accept anything other than the obvious cruelty he suffered. Her heart clutched with pain.

“I cannot be whole for you, little one. Not like your fiancé.”

She hated herself even more for her angry, thoughtless words. If she could only take them back. “Shh, Marcus. I did not mean those things either. I was angry.”

He didn’t seem to hear her, his mind drifting to a place she could not follow. He closed the space between them. His hands fell to her waist, resting gently on the soft curve of her hips.

Danni stiffened, surprised.

“Please. Let me…” He shuddered. “Let me hold you for just a moment. It—it was too much for me down there.”

She bit back a gasp, shocked he would admit such a thing. It simply proved how emotionally overwrought he was.

At her nod, his eyes lazily drifted half shut. With agonizing slowness, he closed the gap between them, treating her as if she were the most fragile of glass. Marcus’s head dropped to the crook of her neck, nuzzling her ear. His warm breath swept her sensitive skin. A throb matching his rhythmic breathing began low, deep in her body, tightening with each exhale. She held still, afraid to break the spell he had created with his touch. Afraid to frighten him away. He was trusting her, and she would not disappoint him this time.

When he spoke again, his voice was soft by her ear, laced with pain. “I am envious of you, Danni.”

She blinked in surprise and whispered, “How so?”

“You have such happy memories of your childhood. Of your mother and father, and their love for each other. Of how they loved and cared for you. I have none of that.”

Her breath caught, her chest tight with sympathy.

“My mother was a beautiful woman. Every time she would come see me, I would think how graceful she was. When she held me, I’d feel so calm and safe. Whatever troubles I had that day would wash away.” He paused, his voice full of fondness. “She smelled of chamomile.”

He shuddered and Danni felt her heart would burst with the sorrow that radiated from him. Biting hard on her lip, she tasted the metal tang of blood. The urge to hold him close was strong, but she wanted to hear him speak. The answers to her questions and doubts were a breath away. She wanted badly to understand this complex man. One arm, unbidden, closed tightly across his back, soothing, encouraging.

“My father was a brutal man. He could be very cruel to her. She would vanish periodically in an effort to get away from him. The times she was away, my father drank and grew more violent and because I was her son…he took everything out on me, Danni.” His swallow was audible as he continued, “When he decided my mother had been gone for too long, he’d go fetch her, sometimes literally dragging her back. The last time she was brought home, I was nine and Caro was born. I-I know she loved us. She cared for and protected us from him. But she left again shortly after, leaving Caro and me, and never came back. My father he was so angry, Danni. Always so very angry…I…Sometimes, Danni, I am almost certain he would have killed her.”

Danni stifled a gasp, determined to say nothing, do nothing, in fear he’d stop sharing.

He took a deep breath. “I fear I am just like him. I do not think I was ever meant to be a normal man. I’ve always struggled with the black inside, consuming me a little bit more every year. One day, I fear I may completely disappear. Sometimes, memories of him consume me. I cannot function. I live in fear that my soul will no longer exist and I truly will become the Beast everyone believes me to be.”

Danni remembered his episode in the cabin. “Is this what happened to you in the woods?”

He trembled harder, nodding. “I am already so much like my father. He would have had no qualms about kidnapping Ginny the way I did.”

Unable to bear it any longer, she wrapped her other arm about his bowed neck, pressing against him, seeking to give him the comfort he craved. The grip at her waist tightened and his big body sagged into her.

“You are
not
like him, Marcus. It is obvious you take no pleasure in this. Why can’t you return her?” She held her breath for an answer, pleading with the heavens for the one she wanted to hear.

“I wish I could.”

She stiffened in his hold, desperately tamping down on the urge to rail at him. Instead of demanding, she kept her tone gentle. “Why?”

Danni felt his shoulders tense. The grip on her hips tightened briefly before it abandoned her completely. He moved just a few steps away, breathing ragged, hands trembling. His absence sent a chill racing across her heated skin. She swallowed against a hollow emptiness growing in her heart, fists clenched by her sides.

His shoulders rose and fell in quick succession. Alarmed, she took a hesitant step forward. “Marcus?”

“Sometime before he died, he”—Marcus bit out savagely, the fury in his voice making her cringe—“he arranged a marriage between my sister and the Duke of Harwood.”

Danni gasped, her hand instinctively covering her mouth. Everyone knew of the Duke’s reputation, but only very few actually knew him. He had lived out of the country for several years now, after his father had died under very suspicious circumstances.

“Wasn’t he the leading suspect in the murder of his father?” She gasped.

Marcus nodded, anger hardening his voice. “I cannot allow my sister to marry that man. But to break the contract, I have to secure more money. My father’s vices drained the estate long before I gained control of the finances. It’s a slow process, but I’m regaining some semblance of security. However, it’s just enough to cover the break of promise stipulation. There would be no extra to support my tenants and Caro would have no dowry for a future marriage. I can’t let that happen, Danni!”

“Oh my God,” she breathed, stumbling back, realizing this was the source of his nightmares in the woods. “How could a father do such a thing to his child?”

Bitter laughter rent the quiet of the room. “Oh, that is my fault as well.”

Confusion brought her close again. She longed to reach out to him, to soothe the painful rigidness of his spine, but she sensed he would not welcome her touch at the moment.

“What do you mean? Your fault?”

“Several years before his death, my father called me to his office. He commanded me to marry, but I refused.” His fist thumped ruthlessly on the nearby wall, making Danni jump. Anger rolled off him in waves. “I didn’t want to marry, to trap some poor girl with someone like myself. And I swear the only thing that kept him from killing me during his tirades was the fact that he wanted an heir to carry on his line. If I died, so would the Fleetwood line. I vowed to never marry, to never father children, so he would lose that satisfaction.”

Danni ignored the unexpected pain in her chest at that confession. He never wanted to be a father?

Marcus smirked sarcastically. “We argued and I left. He said he would make me pay, and he knew I cared for Caro above all else. Knew I’d do anything for her. The betrothal to Harwood was his way to force me into marriage.” He suddenly spun on his heel, facing her again. Danni felt her eyes widen at the desperation twisting his face. “I hate that he’s winning, little one.”

“But he’s dead, Marcus.”

“Ha! Not to me, nor to Caro. He lives on, forever, in us.” He stepped closer, seeming to seek her absolution. “I will never force myself on Ginny. She can have children with whomever she wishes and I will never say a word otherwise. I simply need her money to break the betrothal, and her father’s power to fight Harwood in court, if necessary.”

Danni felt sick. Everything clicked into place. She now understood why she was here, why Marcus had chosen Ginny. “What do you mean he kept you alive, Marcus? I understand he was unforgivably cruel, but would he really seek to kill his own children?”

Marcus fell silent. The color that had returned with his anger bled from his face again. Hesitantly, she took another step forward, pleading softly, “What did your father do, Marcus?”

“He…” His hands fisted, and his gaze fixed behind her.

The image of his scarred body stepping from the tub flashed before her. Biting her lip, she took another half step closer, clutching at the blankets hanging forgotten in her hands. “He caused your scars?”

His voice seemed dead as he spoke about—reported—the past. “The last time my mother came back and Caroline was born, my father got drunk, exceedingly drunk. That night, I was in my bed, hiding, and my parents were arguing. His words…they were the drunken ramblings of a crazy man, Danni. He was screaming that Caroline wasn’t his child, despite the fact she shares the family white-blond hair and green eyes. I think he hated her.”

His soft timbre paused as he drew another breath. “They were so loud. My mother…she was hysterical, pleading with my father to leave Caro alone, swearing Caro was his daughter. I could not hear all that was said, but my father snapped. A sound like thunder drowned her cries. Later, I learned he’d put his fist through a table.”

Danni bit harder on her lip, trying hard to be silent as tears slipped down her cheeks.

“My father had always been violent. I learned at a very young age to avoid contact with him. I became the most obedient and respectful of children. It was born out of fear of him. But that night…my mother threatened to leave him again. Then his footsteps were on the stairs, approaching. The house fairly shook with his screams to my mother—he would not allow her bastard to live under his roof. He headed towards the nursery. To Caro. I knew his tone of voice well. Knew what he’d try to do.”