Midnight My Love (24 page)

Again, Damien noticed a look pass between
his two friends.

"Are you leaving immediately, Garr?" he
asked. "Wait a few minutes, I want to talk to you before you go.
First, I must speak to Alexandra." He strode off in the direction
of the house, leaving his friends to gawk at his retreating
back.

****

Alexandra found it difficult not to think of
Damien. She decided to keep busy so her mind couldn't stray toward
the man she had the misfortune to love.

Maggie helped her into an old muslin gown,
and Alex headed for the herb garden. She'd neglected it for the
past couple of weeks; there would be plenty of work to keep her
hands and mind occupied.

The chives were thriving and had multiplied
tenfold. Alex focused her attention on separating and replanting
the onion-like plants. She knelt down, so she could reach the back
of the herbal bed. There were several clumps that refused to make
contact with her shovel. As she stretched forward, Alex felt a
strong body lean over her. Large brown hands took the small
gardening trowel from her and scooped up the elusive plants.

Alex felt a treacherous shiver rush through
her body. Damien's long fingers clasped her trembling hand, pulling
her to a standing position. He wrapped his arms around her and drew
her toward him, cradling her back against his hard body. He buried
his face in her hair and held her against him, not saying a word.
They stood there for a moment, their bodies as one.

Suddenly, Alex recalled his perfidy from the
day before and jerked herself from his hold. She turned to face her
tormentor. He smiled and devoured her with his golden eyes. Alex
felt her knees weaken. This was foolishness, she reminded herself.
The man was wicked, and if she gave in to her emotions, she would
regret it for the rest of her life.

Damien placed his strong hands on her
shoulders and gathered her into a powerful embrace. Before she
could protest, he kissed her. Something was different about this
kiss, but Alex didn't know what it was. She felt her senses
reeling, and she pushed him away with all of her might. She saw a
momentary flicker of hurt in his eyes. It was gone in an instant,
and he smiled again.

"Don't be missish with me, Alexandra,"
Damien said. "I want you to marry me. I've never forgotten that
first kiss we shared together. You've plagued me for many years. I
know my past is black, but I promise to reform. Your love will keep
me on the straight and narrow." There, he'd said it. He'd asked her
to be his wife. He took both of her hands in his to pull her to him
again.

Alex wrenched herself from
his hold and stepped back. "You must be mad!" she gasped. "Have
you
no
shame?
Have you
no
scruples at all? You think you can spend the night in the
arms of your mistress, then come and offer marriage to me?" She
looked him up and down with scathing contempt. "You flatter
yourself if you think I'd ever stoop to marry one such as you. I
thought perhaps you'd changed, but I was wrong. You'll always be a
rakehell." She waited a moment for an explanation--anything, but he
stood silent before her.

Damien's stomach tightened into a twisted
knot. He'd never had a woman berate him before--yes he had--but not
one he loved. And she was accusing him of things he hadn't done.
Perhaps he'd intended to bed Marcella, but he'd decided against it.
He'd be damned if he would explain himself.

Alex saw Damien's face
harden into a stone mask and her fury mounted. She hated him for
what he'd awakened in her. She hated herself for loving him despite
all he'd done. "
If
I ever considered marrying you, yesterday's actions killed
anything I ever felt for you." Hot tears were threatening as she
continued. "You marched your mistress in front of me. You
deliberately
hurt me,
when you offered to escort her home. I saw you watching
me."

"Yes--and I saw Carlisle kissing you." His
voice was harsh. Would she deny it? Had he been mistaken?

Alex shook her head. "At least Carlisle's
intentions were honorable!"

She waited for him to say something, but he
continued to stand there like a statue--silent and cold. Alex took
a deep breath. "Besides, if I married you, how would I ever know
you'd be true to me? You have dozens of discarded mistresses.
Anytime we quarreled, how would I know you wouldn't run to one of
them for solace?"

Still he said nothing. Alex straightened her
shoulders--he would not see her tears. "You say you will change,
but old habits are hard to break, Damien. You've lived a life of
debauchery for most of your thirty-five years. Marriage is based on
truth and love, and you're incapable of either."

Alex turned away, gripping her skirts with
fisted hands. If only he would say something--give some
explanation. She knew she would forgive him if he told her he loved
her--that he'd made a mistake.

Damien's mouth curled into his old sardonic
smile. He would never let her know how much her words hurt him.
He'd been better off when he'd avoided love. He was right when he
swore never to trust a woman. She had not denied that Carlisle had
kissed her. He bowed with mock formality. "It seems I can say
nothing to alter your opinion of me. My presence is repugnant to
you, so I shall leave Willowmede immediately. Believe it or not, I
wish you only happiness." His boots crunched the gravel path as he
turned and walked away.

A cold numbness spread through Alexandra. He
was going out of her life forever. She wanted to call him back, but
couldn't. The incident with the maid and his actions yesterday
proved he would never change.

Wet tears scalded her cheeks as she knelt to
retrieve the shovel. If she gave way to her heart, she would marry
a man who didn't love her and one whom she could never trust. In
her mind, she felt she'd made the most logical decision. But her
heart ached. Alex knew she was destined to live her life alone,
with only the memory of a few kisses to keep her company for the
rest of her days.

****

Damien slowed his steps as he neared the
stable. He'd left Alex only minutes ago. It seemed a lifetime.

Robert and Garr were still inspecting the
horses and the curricle. Garrett was making last minute
preparations before he left for Portsmouth, where he would take
ship to Spain and rejoin his regiment. Damien stopped near the
horses. "I'm going with you, Garr. And I'm ready to leave, as soon
as possible."

"This is rather sudden, isn't it?" Robert
asked, eyeing him with a frown. "I thought we had plans to go to
Bath tomorrow. Did something happen between you and Alex?"

"Ask her yourself. I'm sure she has plenty
to say about the matter," Damien answered curtly.

"Lover's quarrel?" Garr asked.

Damien shot him a withering glance as he
walked around to the driver's side of the curricle.

"Don't push him," Robert warned Garr. "He
looks dangerous at the moment."

"Demon's always dangerous," Garrett reminded
his friend. "Short temper. Volatile nature. Used to challenge
people at the drop of a hat, remember? We acted his seconds many
times."

"I remember. Let up on him, will you?"

"All right," Garr said. "You sure you want
to go, Demon?"

"I'm sure," he answered, as he swung himself
up into the curricle. Looking down into Garr's puzzled face, Damien
took up the reins. "I'm driving."

"Anything you say, old boy." He jumped into
the curricle beside his friend. Damien saw him wink at Robert.

"Yes, Garrett, I know you think you're
humoring me," he said. "Don't look so damned pleased with
yourself."

"What about your things, Demon?" Robert
asked.

"Tell Brewster to follow in the carriage.
We'll spend the night at the Castle in Portsmouth." Damien gave the
horses the office to start, and the curricle sped down the gravel
road at an alarming rate.

Garrett held onto his hat with one hand; he
grasped the edge of his seat with the other, holding on for dear
life. He glanced now and then at Demon's stern profile. Something
was amiss, and he resolved to find out what the problem was.

The drive to Portsmouth took less than seven
hours. The weather was fair, the roads good. Damien was silent, his
whole attention focused on the horses. Garr watched the scenery
flash by.

At Warminster, they changed horses; stopping
only for a quick tankard of ale. Garrett eyed his friend with
concern. Demon appeared oblivious to his surroundings.

"Want me to handle the ribbons a while?" he
asked.

Damien stared at him a moment, as if he'd
forgotten his presence. He shook his head. "I know I'm devilish
company today. But if you have no objections, I'd like to continue
to drive."

"All right, old fellow. But I demand a
reckoning, as soon as we reach Portsmouth."

Damien nodded. The second part of the
journey was accomplished much like the first. They reached
Portsmouth at half past six. Pulling into the inn yard, two ostlers
rushed to unharness the sweating horses and lead them to the
stables. Garrett and Damien established themselves in the Castle
Inn's best private parlor.

Sometime later, they were sipping port. On
the table were the remains of a well-cooked dinner of pheasant,
sweet peas, boiled potatoes, and salmon.

Garrett leaned back in his chair and
regarded his friend across the table. Damien sat in a brown study;
his brows drawn together in a frown as he gazed at the candlelight
reflecting on his glass. Garr watched as he tossed off the port and
poured another glassful.

"Aiming to make a night of it?" Garr asked
conversationally.

"I aim to get rip-roaring drunk." Damien
quickly downed another glass.

"Gonna have a thick head in the morning,"
Garrett warned.

"So? I had a thick head this morning,"
Damien retorted.

"
This
morning?"

"Yes," he said. "I imbibed the landlord's
brandy a little too freely last night."

"Landlord?" Garr asked.

"At the Duck and Drake."

"The Duck and Drake?" Garrett said, staring
hard at him.

"Will you stop repeating everything I say? I
tell you, I drank too much brandy at the Duck and Drake. They
couldn't wake me, so I spent a hell of a night on a short, hard
sofa."

"You slept at the Duck and Drake?" Garrett
wanted to know.

"Yes, damn it!"

"The Nugent with you?" he persisted, trying
to get his facts straight.

"I left Marcella at Nugent Manor," Damien
answered.

Garrett shook his head as he poured himself
more port and refilled Damien's glass. "Thought you spent the night
with Marcella, old boy. Escorted her home, you know."

"I was furious with Alex. I saw Carlisle
making love to her."

Garr examined the tips of
his shining boots. "Kissed her cheek.
Wasn't
making love to
her."

"I tell you, I saw him kiss her. Twice!"
exclaimed Damien.

"Might've looked like he
kissed her to you.
I
saw the whole thing. Kissed her cheek, that's
all."

Garrett watched the color drain from his
friend's face.

"Then why didn't she deny it? Why didn't she
explain?" Damien jumped up and paced around the room. She had been
angry and perhaps hurt by his behavior at the picnic. He hadn't
explained his actions, why should he expect more from her?

He tilted his head back and looked toward
the ceiling. "Damnation! I've bungled it again."

"Again?" Garrett asked.

"Years ago, I kissed Alexandra," Damien
explained. "I was only twenty-five; you know how I was--hot at
hand, slept with anything in skirts."

Damien sat back down. "She was barely
seventeen, Garr. I was angry at her for growing up and for being so
damned beautiful, and angry at myself for desiring my best friend's
little sister."

He raked his fingers through his hair. "I
was half drunk and in a moment of madness I kissed her. My ardor
shocked her. Her response probably horrified her. I had betrayed
our special friendship. You know how close we'd been when she was a
child. Alex threw my reputation in my face. She said no decent
women could ever love me. And she's right." Damien poured himself
another drink.

"Alex kiss you back?" Garrett asked,
ignoring this last statement.

"Yes." What could it matter now? Damien
tossed off the glass of port.

"Simple, then," he said, adjusting the
sleeves of his jacket. "Must love you."

"You're wrong," stated Damien.

"I ought to know. Got five sisters. Seen 'em
all fall in love. Know the signs," he said wisely.

"If she loves me, why does she keep throwing
my past in my face?"

"Scared," replied Garrett.

"Scared of what? Me?"

Garr placed his fingers
together, forming a pyramid. "Maybe. Probably scared of your
reputation.
Did
go off with the Nugent, old boy. And she thought you grabbed
the upstairs maid--Lucy? That her name?"

"I did not grab the upstairs maid!" Damien
slammed the table with his fist. "If Alex married me, I swear I'd
never look at another female. She's the only woman I've ever cared
for."

Garr studied his friend's troubled
countenance. "Did you tell her you love her?"

"No. I didn't get the chance."

"Must tell Alex you love her, old boy. Swear
eternal devotion. Girls like that sort of thing. Women, too."

Damien grinned. "I never knew you to be such
an expert in the petticoat line."

Garr shook his head. "Can't help it. Five
sisters, remember?"

Damien gazed at the fire burning in the
grate. "It's over. There's nothing I can do now."