Midnight My Love (2 page)

"Damn it, I
told
Robert not to join
up," Damien said, raking his fingers through his dark brown hair.
"There was no reason for him to go fight. He laughed in my face,
and now look what's happened."

"Rob thought it his duty to fight the
French," Garrett said, then paused as if a thought struck him.
"Never begged me not to join. . . did you, Demon?"

Damien shrugged impatiently. "Your situation
is entirely different. You're a younger son. It was either the
military or the Church for you."

"Right, then. Never could stomach being a
vicar. Really no choice in the matter." Garrett studied the amber
liquid in his glass, swirling it around. "What do you think about
Rob wanting to cry off from his engagement? Not the thing, you
know."

"He'll be well out of it, is what I think."
Damien tossed back his brandy and set the glass down on a side
table with a thunk. "I saw Robert's fiancée last month at Sally
Jersey's ball. The lovely Lady Felicia Marlow," he spat in
contempt. "Lady Felicia had conveniently forgotten she was engaged
to be married. She danced three times with Bosworth and flirted
with Hargrove. She's a heartless bitch."

Garrett shook his head. "Poor old Rob."

There was a short rap on the door. The
butler showed the doctor into the study and Damien offered him a
drink.

"What's the prognosis, Dr. Montague?" he
asked.

The physician carefully considered his
brandy, sniffing its rich bouquet, obviously savoring the first
swallow.

"The prognosis, doctor?" repeated
Damien.

"Oh, he'll do, he'll do," said the
physician. "He's weak though. Careful nursing is required. I'll
send Mrs. Giles over in the morning. She's an excellent nurse and
will know exactly what to do."

"I prefer you send over a male attendant,"
Damien said, taking the doctor's empty glass.

Dr. Montague stared at him in amazement. "I
beg your pardon, my lord?"

Garrett kindly explained.
"Demon don't allow women in his house. Can't abide 'em. Says
there's only two reasons to have women around. To warm his bed and
give birth to his heirs,
after
he marries, of course. Ain't a female servant in
all of Demon's households."

"I see," Dr. Montague said. "In that case,
I'll send my assistant--he's a good man, very efficient. In the
meantime, Lord Turlington needs someone nearby at all times. He
must be given these powders at seven."

Handing the medicine to Damien, the doctor
closed his black leather bag, then carefully polished his
wire-rimmed spectacles. "I advise you to keep a careful watch on
the baron, my lord. Sometimes severe melancholy and depression sets
in, especially after an amputation." Replacing the spectacles on
the bridge of his large nose, he gazed at Damien from beneath bushy
brows. "To put it bluntly, his lordship may try to do himself an
injury or worse. I'll return this afternoon at three, to check on
the patient."

Opening the door for the physician, Damien
nodded in understanding. He watched as the doctor bowed himself
out.

"Good God, Demon! You don't think Rob will
try to kill himself, do you?" Garrett exclaimed, aghast at the
possibility.

"I won't let him," Damien replied. "As soon
as the doctor says he can travel, I'll escort him to Willowmede and
stay until I'm satisfied with his recovery. I have no engagements
in town to speak of, except an invitation to dine with my
Great-aunt Vallonia next week. I'll make my excuses to her, then be
free to escort Rob home."

"Knew we could count on you," Garrett said,
yawning wide and stretching.

Damien nodded. "Quinters has prepared a
chamber for you. You're welcome to stay as long as you like. And
Garrett, I'm sorry about your father."

Garr smiled sleepily at
his friend. "Thanks, Demon. Probably just a wild-goose chase.
M'father always gets in a bad way when he wants to see his sons.
But never can tell. Old fellow
is
getting on in years. I'll snatch a few hours
sleep, then be on my way."

****

Fifteen minutes later, Damien stood by
Robert's bedside. After dismissing the exhausted valet, he shrugged
out of his jacket and loosened his cravat. Pulling up a chair so he
could be near, he saw Rob was awake.

"Demon," Robert said softly, relief evident
in his hushed voice. He smiled bleakly, then turned his head to the
wall. "You can see I've lost my arm."

Damien gripped his friend's good shoulder.
"I know, Rob. I'm sorry."

Robert heaved a ragged sigh. With lips set
tightly together, he looked again at the viscount. "I need a
favor."

"Anything. Just name it," Damien said.

"I want you to break the news to Alexandra.
I don't know how she'll take this," he said tiredly.

"I'm certain your sister will be thankful
you're alive," Damien assured him.

Robert smiled grimly. "Thankful I'm alive
when I wish to God I were dead." Closing his eyes, he soon fell
asleep.

After adjusting the coverlet over Robert,
Damien snuffed the candle and went to the adjoining dressing room.
He stretched out on the cot. He would administer the fever powders
himself and watch over his friend until the attendant arrived.

As he lay there, he stared at the ceiling
and allowed his thoughts free rein. It had been many years since
he'd visited Willowmede. In the past, Rob had often invited him to
his country estate to recuperate from his wild jaunts in town.
Situated just outside of Bath, overlooking the Valley of the Avon,
Willowmede was the perfect place for rest and relaxation.

But Damien had not accepted one of Rob's
invitations for a long time. He had good reason. Closing his eyes,
he thought of the one woman he wanted but could never have. The one
woman who did not want him. Alexandra Turlington. Robert's lovely
sister.

Damien smiled bitterly. He had lost count of
the number of women he'd wooed, bedded, and promptly forgotten.
None of them could fill the burning need he felt for Alexandra.

He had known Alex since she was in leading
strings. She had been a charming and engaging child. Damien had
become closely acquainted with her when she started assisting her
father in his observatory. Lord James Turlington had been an avid
astronomer. He introduced Damien to the wonders of the night sky,
and the two men had spent countless hours at the telescope.

When Alexandra showed an interest in her
father's work, Lord Turlington had been thrilled. Whenever Damien
visited Willowmede, the three of them worked side by side until the
wee hours of the night.

Damien and Alexandra had been on the
friendliest of terms, and he loved her like a little sister. He was
eight years her senior, after all. Knowing Alex held him in
considerable affection had given Damien a sense of security in his
wild, unstable life. He could be away from Willowmede for months at
a time, yet whenever he returned, it wasn't long before he and
Alexandra fell back into their easy camaraderie.

But something had changed on his last visit.
Something dreadful. He'd been away for over a year. When he finally
came back to Willowmede, Alexandra was a child no longer. She was
out of school, and at seventeen, she had become a beautiful,
desirable woman.

Everything about her contributed to her
loveliness. Her wavy chestnut hair, usually gathered with a ribbon
to hang long down her back, was pinned up, with a few errant curls
framing her oval face. Smooth, tawny skin invited a man's touch.
The high cheekbones and straight little nose emphasized Alexandra's
beauty. Eyes the color of glittering emeralds held a promise of
passion, as did her slender supple body.

On the narrow cot in Cavendish Square,
Damien rolled to his side, trying to ignore the latent desire
flowing through his veins as he thought of Alexandra.

Yes, something had changed on that visit.
Desire, a feeling he'd never associated with Alexandra, held him
rigid when he first saw her again. And when she hesitated before
approaching him instead of flinging her arms around his neck as was
her habit, Damien silently cursed the conventions, knowing nothing
would ever be the same between them again.

Why had she grown up to be so damned
beautiful?

For reasons beyond his comprehension, some
devil had prompted him to pursue her. He'd taken great pains to go
gently with her as he began his subtle wooing. He told himself it
was amusing when Alexandra rebuffed his practiced charms. Someone
must have warned her about his reputation.

Damien soon found there
was nothing amusing about the overpowering sensations he
experienced each time he was near Alexandra on that fateful visit.
He hated what he was feeling for the young woman. He was beginning
to almost hate
her
for growing up.

Gone was the happy friendship they'd shared
for so many years. Gone was the special place Alexandra held in his
heart. He could never be friends with such a beautiful woman.

The night he'd kissed Robert's sister, the
moon had been bright over Willowmede, the black sky clear, the
stars bright. Perfect conditions for observing the heavens.

It had been late when he made his way to the
observatory which held Lord Turlington's large telescope. Everyone
else had gone to bed. He was slightly foxed, and he stumbled on the
stairs, spilling some of his drink. Cursing his clumsiness, he
opened the door and paused on the threshold when he heard a
surprised intake of breath.

Alexandra looked up from the cluttered
workbench near the telescope where she stood making notes in a
journal. The flickering lamplight cast a warm glow around her.
Damien searched the dark corners of the room. Alexandra was
alone.

She froze as he advanced toward her,
wariness creeping into her beautiful green eyes. Even in his
befuddled state, he sensed her withdrawal as he set his glass on
the workbench.

"Please, go on with your
work, Alexandra. Or perhaps I should say--
Miss Turlington
?" He couldn't keep
the bitter sarcasm from his voice as he nodded toward the books and
papers. "Don't let me disturb you, my dear."

"I think I should leave," she said, her
voice low and uncertain. She took a step backward.

"Nonsense," he said.
"Perhaps I can be of assistance. Just like old times." He smiled as
he stepped around the table, close enough to smell her enticing
clean scent of soap and lavender. "Which portion of the sky are you
checking tonight,
Miss
Turlington
?"

She flinched at the formality and quickly
turned to adjust the position of the telescope. Why did he persist
in taunting her? Why couldn't he leave her alone?

"The northern quadrant," she said,
struggling with the stubborn mechanism. It sometimes stuck at the
most inopportune times. "Papa believes there's a planet somewhere
between Mars and Jupiter, as do most of the members of the
Astronomers Association. I'm helping Papa in his search by making a
sweep of the night skies."

"Allow me," offered Damien. He stepped to
the telescope and stood directly behind her. Chestnut hair gleamed
in the moonlight, her head inches from his chin. Leaning forward,
he reached over her shoulder to position the telescope and felt her
stiffen.

He pointed the metal cylinder toward the
northern skies. When his arm brushed against her, Damien discovered
she was trembling. His own hands were none too steady. He had
become dangerously aware of Alexandra as a woman over the last
fortnight. He should have left Willowmede days ago, but she drew
him like a magnet. He'd put off leaving day after day.

"I believe we have it positioned correctly
now," Damien whispered in her ear.

She turned her head toward his. "Thank
you."

Staring at her mouth, Damien stood
spellbound. He bent his head and softly brushed her lips with his
own. Her mouth was warm and velvety. Ignoring her widened eyes, he
gathered her in his arms and kissed her thoroughly, as he had been
longing to do for days.

Damien lost himself in the embrace, drowning
in her loveliness. His fingers twined themselves in Alexandra's
magnificent hair, as he sought to bring her closer. He felt an
unholy joy when she responded to him, her unpracticed kisses sweet
in his mouth. Strange emotions engulfed him. He never wanted to let
her go.

Deepening the embrace, he gently caressed
one soft breast. Immediately, Alexandra began to struggle free. Too
fast, Damien thought. He'd gone too fast. He released her,
stone-cold sober now. The look on her face would be etched in his
memory forever. She stood before him, her long hair tumbling about
her shoulders, and her emerald eyes blazing with anger, fear and
hurt. She was panting heavily.

"It was only a kiss," Damien said
carelessly. Retrieving his brandy glass, he deliberately took a
sip. His hand shook slightly and his heart pounded in his
chest.

"Only a kiss!" she
repeated, furiously wiping her mouth. "I
knew
I should have left the
observatory as soon as you came in! I thought I was safe because
you're a guest in this house. I thought you were my friend. I was
obviously wrong." She lifted her chin and looked at him with cold
disdain. "You're a wicked man, Damien Avenall! Immoral and sinful,
just as they said. And I was fool enough not to believe them. How
could you make improper advances toward your best friend's sister?
Toward
me
?"

Choking back a sob, she
pushed her hair back, away from her face. Tears glistened on the
tips of her long lashes. She took a deep breath. "No wonder they
call you 'Demon!' Satan would be more apt. No decent woman
could
ever
want
you!" She swept past without looking at him, leaving Damien alone
with his brandy.