In The Dark With You Book 01

In The Dark With You Book One Alexandra Marell

Copyright © 2007 Alexandra Marell All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means mechanical, electronic, photocopying, recording or otherwise without the prior written consent of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser. The right of Alexandra Marell to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. First posted online 2003 as a Buffy Spike fanfiction under the author name Moxie. Moxie and Alexandra Marell are the same person. This edition 2007 All characters in this publication are purely fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Edited by Maria Morpeth and Anne McCraw Proofread by Jane Belfield Cover by Lawrence Morpeth

In The Dark With You, Book One – Alexandra Marell

Prologue The day Mallory Lucius died they said the devil himself drove the carriage that took him to hell. As he had for each of Lucius’s children in turn, their souls being the price for the terrible power that the man, more properly known as Lord Rossendale, wielded in life. He gave his children willingly, so the story goes, all but the last - a golden-haired child with the face of an angel. They say he refused to part with the child and hid him away, substituting another in his stead. When the devil discovered the deception he returned, and, in a raging fury, demanded his due. But the boy was protected by a spell so powerful he could not take him. So Lucifer brought hell to Earth instead, and cursed the child with terrible pain and a torment so dreadful that hell would seem like paradise in contrast. And then he waited. Waited for the child to beg for a place in hell, that his pain might be less and his torment more tolerable. But the child had learned from a master, and he laughed at the devil. Challenged him that there was nothing he could do to ever make him his. And to this day they are locked in a battle that will go on till the end of time. Or until the challenge is won. They fight still.

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In The Dark With You, Book One – Alexandra Marell

Alicia Stanton dropped her daisy chain and bit back a smile. “You don’t really believe those stories, do you? Why, I think I saw him once, and he looked perfectly normal to me.” “You saw him?” Her cousin Wendy crossed her fingers and looked towards the dark shape that was the Lucius mansion. “How could you have? They say he never leaves the house.” “When I was ten. Come, you must remember? I took a dare and sneaked into the grounds. A young boy stood at the window, and for a moment he looked directly at me. And see…” Alicia spread her arms wide. “I am still here to tell the tale.” Wendy leaned forward and whispered, as if the man himself might hear her. “They say he drinks the blood of virgins. And that the merest shaft of sunlight would burn him to ashes.” Alicia glanced towards the mansion on the cliff and her smile wavered. “Those are tales told to frighten children, and best not repeated, cousin. All this nonsense about vampires! I’m far more concerned with what Mama will have to say when we return looking like this.” She pulled at her madly tangled hair and made a face. “Alicia, you are fifteen now, but I quite despair that you will ever earn the title of young lady,” she said, mimicking her mother’s voice. “But the stories...” “Are precisely that - stories, nothing more. Come, let me help you with your hair and you can do mine. I wonder if Aunt Joan has arrived?” 2

In The Dark With You, Book One – Alexandra Marell

“You’re so fortunate, Alicia. To be going all the way to America with her. Dana and I will miss you terribly.” “And you can be sure I will miss you both.” Alicia sat obediently while Wendy finger-combed her hair and told her, yet again, how lucky she was that it was so fine and blonde. “And I would rather have your fiery red hair,” Alicia told her cousin. “We are never satisfied.” She glanced over her shoulder, laughing, but then her expression grew serious. “I intend to marry well, Wendy. He will be rich and handsome and able to keep me better than this,” she said, pulling at her faded cotton gown. “Papa is such a fool with money, always investing in new schemes that never pay. Mama is quite at her wits’ end. In fact, I may never come back. But you must visit me, of course,” she added quickly when she saw how sad her cousin had become at the prospect of her disappearing forever. “America is not so far away – not really.” Wendy nodded and they lapsed into silence. Alicia watched a tall-masted ship make its way lazily across the bay and contemplated the rather frightening thought that here she was, grown up at last, and about to embark on the adventure of a lifetime. As Wendy braided her hair, she felt light-headed with the excitement of it all. Or perhaps the butterflies in her stomach were because the journey back to the house would take them past the Lucius mansion? The wind had picked up far too much to risk the steep cliff path they had come by. “Let’s say our goodbyes now,” she said suddenly, turning to engulf her cousin in a tight hug. “I so wish you were coming with me.” 3

In The Dark With You, Book One – Alexandra Marell

Wendy returned the hug with equal enthusiasm and a tearful note in her voice. “You’ve always been Aunt Joan’s favourite and, besides, one of us must stay for Dana.” The thought of leaving her thirteen-year-old sister behind to wait hand and foot on their neurotic mother gave Alicia pause, but with a deep breath she put it firmly out of her mind. “I’ll send for her,” she declared. “When I am married and established in my own home, I’ll send for her to live with me.” “Calm yourself.” Wendy paused to brush a few stray grasses from her skirt. “Dana understands that this is a wonderful opportunity for you. And her time will come. When you are married Aunt Joan will no doubt take her travelling.” Alicia nodded and took one last look at the place she would always call home, no matter where the winds of fortune blew her. Was there anywhere else in the world as beautiful as Devon in the early summer? Late primroses still lingered and clumps of thrift and seacampion grew from the crevices in the cliffs The dazzling blue of the sea turned into a soft grey where a light mist melded it with the sky, and the muffled roaring of the waves crashing onto the rocks below the cliff were music so familiar that she wondered how she could possibly live without its soothing rhythms. The rocky path climbed up to the cliff road and beyond that stretched the wild moors where lurked, if the legends were to be believed, all manner of fantastic beasts, fairy folk and strange lights that glowed in the night. And between them and home stood the dark, grey towers of the place everyone feared most of all. The Lucius mansion. 4

In The Dark With You, Book One – Alexandra Marell

It’s nothing more than a silly story, made up by even sillier villagers, Alicia repeated the thought, but still found her fingers straying to the cross around her neck, for it didn’t hurt to be sure. Hardly daring to speak, and with Wendy's hand firmly in hers, she ran as fast as she could when they reached the stone wall surrounding the old house, unaware that they were being watched by someone with dark blue eyes, and white-blond hair who was neither a monster nor a vampire. But who was perfectly happy to let anyone who cared think he was.

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Chapter 1 Four years later “Aunt Joan, it’s so good to be back in England. How could I have ever thought of staying away. Are you not happy to see Devon again?” “Indeed I am, Alicia. What a journey, though. I do believe that I’m becoming too old for all this travelling; I am quite exhausted.” Aunt Joan extracted a lace handkerchief from her sleeve and fanned herself vigorously. “But you, my dear? Returning with no husband in sight. After all your expectations. Are you terribly disappointed?” Alicia leaned out of the window, eager for the first view of the family home as the cliff path turned inland. Quite the opposite, Aunt. I’ve never met a duller group of young men as those. I really had believed myself capable of marrying a fortune, but now I know I could only marry for love, fanciful as that may seem. Oh, there it is! I cannot wait to see Dana. She will be so grown up I’ll not recognise her.” Her aunt smiled indulgently. “Ahh, fanciful indeed, but when you get to my age you’ll learn that a fortune will warm you better than any young buck you might take your fancy to. Mark my words.” Alicia smiled at the thought and sat back down as the house disappeared from view. “You are one to talk. Was your first marriage not for love, Aunt? And what is all this talk of being old? You cannot be above forty years of age.” 6

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Aunt Joan chuckled, and preened a little at the compliment. “He ran off with a tavern wench - once he had spent most of my inheritance, of course. She stopped and contemplated her young charge. “I have been indulgent with you, Alicia; you have always been my favourite. I do not believe you should be forced into a marriage not of your choice, but your father will not be quite so lenient. He will expect you to make a good marriage. And soon. Why, you are nearly twenty years of age. Were it not for your beauty, one might consider you already on the shelf.” “Then I shall happily die an old maid. Look, the Lucius mansion.” Alicia deftly changed the subject. “How scared we used to be of the place when we were children.” She leaned forward to take in the familiar shape of the old house that stood, as always, like a watchful guardian on the cliff edge. It was four years since she'd last set eyes on it, and the grey stones still looked as grim and dark as they ever had. “And with good reason. Lord Rossendale was a monster. Evil to the core. They say that when he died...” “Yes, I’ve heard this story many times, Aunt. They say the devil himself came for him.” “It may be true, my dear, and you would do well not to mock.” Alicia laughed, leaning forward to touch her aunt's arm. “Calm yourself, Aunt. Surely you, of all people, do not believe these stories? Did anybody see the devil when he came?”

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“Several of the villagers claim to have seen the coach glowing in the dark, and cloven hoof-prints were found near the gate.” Her aunt's hand covered hers. “You may laugh, Alicia, but what does one make of a family that never shows itself? Of children who never grow to manhood? And of a wife who simply disappears? Such strange comings and goings.” “But there was a son who lived, was there not? I saw him once, standing at the window.” “Did you now? There were rumours that a child survived. They say he had the face of an angel, but that his soul was so black that even the devil did not want it.” Aunt Joan let go of Alicia's hand and retrieved her handkerchief. “Lord, it is so hot, but thank goodness we have arrived at last. How do I look, my dear?” Alicia was already opening the door to the coach as it rattled to a stop on the gravelled drive, the Lucius mansion and tales of the devil already forgotten. She flicked a quick glance over her aunt’s grey travelling dress and grinned. “You look like a woman who has just sold all her American estates and is returning a very rich widow.” Aunt Joan nodded and allowed herself a satisfied smile. “A fortune, part of which you will inherit one day, young lady. I have named a sum in trust for you on my death, as you know. But I intend to live for a good while yet.” “And so you will, Aunt. Look, there they are.” Alicia hitched up her skirt and jumped from the carriage in a most unladylike fashion, dodging the surprised groom who was waiting to put up the steps. “Dana,” she cried to the young lady waiting with open arms. “Look at you 8

In The Dark With You, Book One – Alexandra Marell

– why, you are taller than me now, and what a beauty you have become.” “Lissa.” Dana ran to her sister in an equally unladylike fashion and squealed as she was engulfed in a hug. “You must tell me everything,” she cried breathlessly. What was it like? Did you have a beau? Oh, what a beautiful gown, you will let me borrow it, won’t you? Lissa, it's so good to have you back.” Alicia let go of her sister and stood back to study at her properly. “Look at us both. You are almost seventeen and I am nearly twenty. We are not Lissa and Dana any more, we are Miss Stanton and Miss Dana Stanton.” They both dissolved into a fit of giggles, lost for a moment in the joy of the reunion. Alicia linked arms with her sister and turned to the tall, thin woman standing on the step. “Mama.” “Alicia.” Her mother stooped and offered her cheek. “You are looking well, my dear.” “And you, Mama.” Alicia kissed her, not surprised at the restrained formality of the welcome. She could tell her mother's nervous disposition had not improved in her absence, and, stepping back, she dropped Dana's arm and stood demurely for inspection. After nothing more than a cursory glance, her mother gave a slight nod, then turned her attention to Aunt Joan, who was huffing towards them. “I should have thought her married by now, Joan.” Her voice was tight, irritation evident. “After all, was that not the purpose of the visit?” Aunt Joan stopped to recover her breath and waved a hand dismissively. “I tried my best, but you know Alicia. 9

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She has vowed to marry for love or die an old maid, or some such romantic nonsense. That girl is far too much like I was at her age. Now, how about some tea? I’m quite parched.” Alicia blushed crimson at her aunt's words, suddenly feeling like a prize cow on display at the marketplace. She didn't miss her mother's small scowl of disapproval, or Dana's look of concern. Her adventure was over, she realised with a sinking heart. Alicia glared at her mother’s back. She’d been quite prepared to make a life in which her major concern would be which dress to wear to the next ball; was it her fault if the reality had not matched the dream? Dull as dishwater, the lot of them. Her aunt had wheeled out one marriage prospect after the other, but none had caught her fancy. She’d even let one of them kiss her, unknown to her aunt, and the experience had so revolted her that it had almost put her off men altogether. The memory of his over-eager lips crushing hers caused her to shudder. And his tongue? She had no idea what he’d been trying to do with it, but knew she would never let a man do that to her again. The little party made its way into the house, with Alicia only half- listening to her mother's prattling. Now she was back her days of freedom were numbered. Despite the protestation to her aunt in the coach, she knew she would have no say in her inevitable marriage. All she could hope for was that her father would choose a halfway decent man who she could at least tolerate. And who knew? Perhaps she would be lucky and he’d be handsome, and rich - the combination must exist somewhere, she reasoned.

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Alicia patted her hair and pinched her cheeks to bring some colour into them. Meeting with her father always made her nervous - now more so than ever, since he'd set great store by this trip to America and had more or less instructed her to marry the richest man she could find. He wasn't bothered that she return, only that some of the fortune might filter its way back to England and into his pocket. Mr Stanton seemed unable to be subtle when it came to money, grasping at any chances of acquiring it with a grim and, Alicia thought, most unbecomingly cynical determination. She wiped her hands on her skirt and took a deep breath, stopping as she looked with trepidation down the corridor leading to his study. “Come along, Alicia,” her mother chided. “Your father is anxious to talk with you. She pushed her towards the door and Alicia raised a hand to knock, looking at her mother as she did so. “How is he, Mama?” Mrs Stanton reached forward and tucked a stray lock of hair back into place for her. “He is not pleased, Alicia. Not pleased at all.” **** From the journals of Damien Lucius. 1835 I am not a monster, yet I cannot be a proper man, and this loneliness eats at my soul. I would that the tales were true and the devil would come for me, yet even he mocks me with his disdain and does not heed my call. And God abandoned me long ago. So, I shall once again find solace in my cups and lose myself in the 11

In The Dark With You, Book One – Alexandra Marell

forgetfulness of a drunken stupor. For it is my only friend. Damien snapped the journal closed and threw the quill pen into the inkpot. A blot of ink splashed onto the front of the leather-bound book and Damien leaned his aching head carefully onto the desk and watched it spread. That’s by far the most interesting thing that has happened today, he thought miserably. He dipped his finger in the blot and stirred it around, wondering why he didn't seem to be able to get drunk enough tonight to reach the blissful state of oblivion he craved. It would be infinitely preferable to this remorseless self-pity. More wine was what he needed. He lifted his head and closed one eye, trying to decide which of the two cups now floating before his vision was the real one. Neither of them, he decided. They were a mirage, nothing but a dream, like his whole life. Suspended, like him, in some half-reality where things had form but no substance. He cocked his head and studied the wavering, silver goblets and imagined he could see right through them. But, obviously, they were something because when he tentatively reached out to test his theory his hand connected with solid matter and with a soft thunk the cup tipped clean over. Red wine raced to the edge of the desk where it dripped over the side and onto his lap and the drunken philosopher was quickly replaced by the plain drunk. Damien sprang back in alarm, knocked over his chair and landed, with a loud curse, on the floor. “Damnation,” he muttered and flopped onto the rug in resignation. Tipping back his head he studied the ornately carved leg of the huge four-poster that dominated the room. Was it even worth getting up to 12

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stagger the few feet to the bed? Who was there to notice or even care if he spent slept off his evening’s indulgence on the carpet? Damien closed his eyes and felt the self-pity creeping back. Except Flora, of course. Thoughts of his childhood nurse caused him to groan and push himself into a sitting position. He squinted down at the sticky red stain that had plastered the white shirt to his stomach, and giggled at the observation that it looked as if someone had run him through with a sword. Hell, I wish someone would, and put an end to this miserable existence, he thought. His head ached too much to listen to another of Flora’s lectures on proper behaviour befitting a lord, so he pulled the shirt off himself and threw it across the room, staggered upright and lunged for the bed. From what he’d read, this was completely normal behaviour for a lord. “Flora. Flora. Where are you when I need you?” he muttered. The door opened and Damien turned, blearily trying to focus on the person entering the room “You’re not Flora,” he observed with difficulty, screwing up his eyes and looking the dark-haired young man up and down. “You don't have those...woman's things...” Damien clamped his hands over the front of his chest and let out a hysterical giggle as he staggered sideways again. The young man rushed forward, hooked him under the arms and hoisted him up. “It's Alex. Mother will be here in a moment. Jesus Christ, Damien, let’s get you over to the bed.” “Al-ex-an-der.” Damien said it slowly, almost mockingly. “Are you scared of me Al-ex-an-der?” He allowed the lad 13

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to manoeuvre him to the bed and flopped back, flinging his arms wide. “No.” “Why not?” Damien bared his teeth. “Am I not even remotely scary?” Alex stepped back and folded his arms. “For ’eavens sake, you wouldn’t scare the cat. Do you need any more ’elp?” He nodded at Damien’s trousers and arched an eyebrow, his lips holding just the hint of a mocking smile. “Bugger off.” Damien sat up and started on the buttons of his trousers. “Go light a fire or something, and get me Flora. Where is that bloody woman?” “I'm here, Damien, don't you go fretting yourself now.” Damien's face lit up at the sight of the short, plump woman who hurried into the room. “Where were you Flora? I want to go to bed,” he said ignoring Alex’s exaggerated eye-roll. “And so you shall, so you shall.” Flora finished knotting up her hair and secured it with a pin. “My, look at the state of this room,” she said, stooping for the quilt which had fallen to the floor. Damien felt himself relaxing as she took charge, only half-hearing her whispered command to Alex. “Don't just stand there, you dimwit, fetch the sleeping draught. You know where it is.”

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Alex shot Damien a look, shook his head and left the room, mumbling under his breath. Flora returned her attention to her charge. “Come here, my sweet,” she said with an indulgent smile. “Let me see if I can soothe that head of yours.” Damien leaned his head gratefully onto her ample lap and relaxed further as her hand stroked his hair. “I think that tomorrow I shall go stand in the sun again.” “No, you will not stand in the sun.” Flora sighed and continued to stroke his head, as if she were used to having this conversation. “You know what it would do to you.” “But maybe I’m cured?” Damien lifted his head, a spark of hope in his eyes. “The ointment from Arabia. It worked a little. I could feel it.” “’Tis but temporary – and look at your skin.” Her fingers lingered gently on his sunburnt cheeks, causing Damien to suck in a sharp breath. “I will put more ointment on this tomorrow, but you must promise me to stay inside.” He dropped his head back into her lap. “They say I’m a vampire, you know.” “Idle gossip, my lamb. Ahh, there you are.” Flora took the sleeping draught from Alex and lifted it to Damien’s lips. “There now, drink it all up,” she said sliding an arm around his shoulders. Damien stared at the cup for a moment before shrugging his shoulders. He tossed its contents back without protest and watched through half-closed eyes as Flora stood up. 15

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“Now go to sleep,” she instructed, as if he were still five years old. “And tomorrow perhaps less of the wine?” “It’s my only friend, apart from you.” Damien threw an arm across his eyes to block out the flickering candlelight. “I wrote a poem. Would you like to read it?” “Tomorrow. Sleep now, Damien.” Flora arranged herself in the rocking chair by the bed. “Would you like me to sing to you?” “No. Am I cursed, Flora?” “No you are not. Simply an unfortunate accident of birth. 'Tis very unfair, but you are not cursed.” “Was my father?” “Sleep, my pet.” She started singing softly; an old folk song she knew he liked. Damien lay back and let it wash over him like a comforting blanket. “You never answer that question,” he said drowsily, feeling the draught taking effect. This was the best part of the day. When oblivion overtook him and he didn't have to think of anything but the welcoming blackness that came with it. “I think I am cursed,” he mumbled as sleep overtook him at last. **** Flora stood stiffly and smoothed out her skirts. “Fetch a cloth and clean up that mess.” Alex jumped when she poked him and indicated the wine stain. “Don’t just stand there gawking, you dimwit. And I do wish he would not talk about going out into the sun. It worries me quite to death.” She started to bustle about, picking 16

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up Damien's discarded clothes, then stopped and thought for a moment. “I think his melancholy increases, do you not think so?” She held up the stained shirt and handed it to Alex. “There, use that to mop up the wine.” Alex looked at the shirt, then over at Damien who was snoring lightly. “I think he's mad, if that's what you're asking. And you don't ‘elp, Mother. You treat him like a baby. It’s nauseating.” “For twenty-one years, I have sat and watched over him.” Flora gazed at Damien fondly as he slept, reaching down to pull the quilt over his bare shoulders. “And I will continue to do so while I have breath in my body. Make sure you extinguish the candle when you leave. Goodnight, Alex.” “Goodnight, Mother.” Alex continued dabbing at the wine stain until his mother's footsteps faded. When he was sure she was safely in her room he threw down the shirt and reached for the candlestick. He took another moment to look at Damien, shaking his head as he did so, then opened the drawer to the desk and felt about at the back for the slim volume he knew was kept there. His heart-rate increased as he opened it and angled the pages toward the candle-light, unable to read a word but fully appreciative of the illustrations therein. With eyes as wide as saucers and a growing bulge in his trousers, he flicked through the pages, turning the book, and sometimes his head, to get a better view. Then Damien stirred and started mumbling in his sleep, so Alex snapped The Gentleman's Book of Love closed and hastily replaced it in its hiding place. He pinched out the candle and made his way back to his room, rubbing at the front of his breeches. Damn, but he was going to have to visit a certain lady in the next 17

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village and get this itch scratched once and for all. Then Damien would have to show him some respect. He’d make sure his Lordship knew about it; would taunt him with it, because, along with going out into the sun, it was something Damien would never do. What woman would want to bed a vampire? Alex laughed softly and shook his head. Vampires indeed! If only people knew what really lurked within these walls, they'd be weak with laughter, not with fright.

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Chapter 2 “Wendy, is it really you?” “Alicia!” Her cousin turned and let out a small shriek. “I did not know you were back. Why did you not call?” “Mama has kept me busy this past week. Her nerves have not improved at all. But you?” She took her cousin's hands and looked with open admiration at her green silk ball gown. “You are married now. Come, tell me all about it. Where is your husband “Over there.” Wendy pointed out the short, red-haired man making his way across the dance floor. “Oswald, come, let me introduce cousin Alicia. She has just returned from America.” Oswald took Alicia's hand, gave a small bow and winked at her. “I’ve heard such tales about you,” he said. “So very pleased to meet you at last.” Alicia glanced at Wendy, eyes wide. “What have you been saying, cousin?” Wendy laughed and took her husband's arm affectionately. “Take no notice of my husband. He likes to tease. Don't you, my love?” “Indeed I do.” Oswald patted Wendy's hand. “You will no doubt have much to talk about. From which I dearly hope you will let me be excused?”

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“If you do not mind me stealing your wife for a while, I do have a lot of questions regarding a …certain institution.” Alicia gave him a coy smile. “Then I definitely do not want to be here.” Oswald extracted himself from his wife's embrace and took a step backwards. “Don't frighten the girl too much, Wendy dear.” “As if I could frighten Alicia? She’s always been the brave one.” The two girls giggled as they watched Oswald's hasty retreat across the room. Alicia linked arms with Wendy and steered her through the french doors and out onto the balcony of the grand country house that hosted the dance they were attending. “Oh, Wendy,” Alicia gave her a wistful look. “I swear you are glowing. Are you very happy?” “I am, cousin. Oswald is so...” She broke into a broad smile. “Come, let us sneak down to the garden and I’ll tell you all about it.” Alicia followed her, pleased that her cousin had found such happiness in marriage. Something she herself was beginning to think she’d never find. Oswald seemed a nice man, witty and kind, and he and Wendy very obviously adored each other. The most feeling Alicia had ever managed for a man had been a ridiculous yearning for one of the grooms when she'd been fourteen. He was, as she remembered, plain and pock-marked, but there had been something in the way he'd looked at her that had made her go weak at the knees. She'd never felt it since and was beginning to despair of ever feeling it again. 20

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The cousins settled themselves on the swing chair, and for a few moments listened to the music from the ballroom drifting on the night air and contemplated the starry sky. Alicia sighed. “You are the brave one now. You are far ahead of me in this.” “Was there no-one who took your fancy, Alicia? You were so determined to marry a rich man. Do you remember what you said before you left?” Wendy kicked her legs and the swing moved gently back and forth. “I do. But, Wendy, I believe now that there must be more than that. Surely you did not marry Oswald for his wealth?” “No, but his five thousand a year does help.” “But would you have married him without it?” Wendy contemplated her answer. “I would have married him had he been a pauper on the street. I love him. I have since the moment I set eyes on him.” “But how did you know? What drew you to him?” Alicia turned to her cousin. “I wish you would tell, because I fear it will never happen to me.” Wendy chuckled. “It will, cousin, and when you least expect it. Your heart will skip a beat and everything else will fade from sight until there is only your heart’s desire and nothing else. Now, do you want to know what goes on in the marriage bed, or don't you?” ****

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“I have often wondered how it would feel to be in love. But I know that I’ll never know, condemned as I am to this life of solitude. For what woman with any sense would want to join me here in the dark? To live in the shadows? Were I to find such a woman, that would be love indeed. Damien lay on his bed, listening to Flora's retreating footsteps. He'd again refused the sleeping draught and knew she was very displeased with him. Walking stiffly from the room, she’d shaken her head, muttering that she only had his best interests at heart, and he wasn't to worry about offending her since she was only a servant and of no importance. It cut him deeply when she spoke like that; she was, after all, the nearest thing to a mother he could remember. But sometimes it all became too much. Sometimes, even if it was only pretend, he needed to be a man and not the little boy she so fondly saw in him. He knew he'd become dependant on the laudanum, having been given it for as long as he could remember and probably before that. Giving it up had been hard, but he'd found, in these past few weeks, a determination that had surprised him. And, all at once, everything around him was starting to seem somehow sharper. Days that had once melted one into the other had started to separate, each with a morning, noon and night. And with that Damien had begun to realise just how empty and lonely his life really was. Sliding out of bed, he shivered a little and groped for his trousers and shirt. Twenty-one years and all he had to show for them was this pathetic creature who hid in the shadows and encouraged the tales of vampires and 22

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monsters because it gave him the respect he had no hope of earning otherwise. He wrote poetry that was never read, played music that nobody but Flora and sometimes that idiot Alex listened to, and got drunk. This was his life. The fire had died down to embers but he was able to light a candle from one of the glowing coals and search around for his boots. They were nowhere to be found. Flora had probably taken them for cleaning, he decided, and tiptoed barefoot to the door. Having determined that no-one was about, he made his way along the corridor, passing door after door until the main staircase was before him. Descending quickly, he made his way along more corridors to the kitchen wing. Going out this way would attract the least attention, he reasoned, feeling a little giddy at the unfamiliar sense of freedom. Flora would be even less pleased to see him now, sneaking out at night, barefoot and without a coat. No doubt she would have some sermon for him regarding the evils of night air and how it would surely give him a chill. Well, what did he care? He may not be able to go out during the day, but what was there to stop him from going out at night? He was an adult now and master here, so could do as he pleased. It was time to grow up. To find out more about the four cotton mills and the estate in the north of England, the deeds of which he’d seen in his father’s study. And the Italian villa – a picture of that hung in the library. He was quite possibly a very wealthy man, although he’d never actually seen any of his money. The key to the kitchen door was in the lock and Damien reached for it, thinking that he ought to find out where the money was and spend a sum on the house. Open up some of the rooms, perhaps buy some new furniture. 23

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The dark shape that stepped out of the shadows and interrupted his thoughts made him jump nearly out of his skin. “And where might you be going? Master.” The candle left a smoky trail in its wake as Damien spun around and flattened himself against the door. Sagging against it, he let out a noisy breath. “Bloody hell, Evan, is that you?” “It is. My lord.” A tall figure stepped out of the shadows. The flickering candlelight revealed a face that was weather-beaten and battle-scarred and framed by cropped greying hair. The man carried an old Baker rifle slung over one shoulder. He advanced across the room and placed the gun carefully onto the scrubbed-pine kitchen table. Damien shifted uncomfortably, his bravado rapidly evaporating as it always did when Evan was around. He hated having to look up to the man and hated the way he said master, and my lord, always in a slightly mocking tone that was just enough to convey his complete lack of respect. “I was going for a walk.” “Well past the witching hour, master.” Evan raised an eyebrow and dropped his gaze to Damien’s bare feet. “I wouldn't go out like that. What would Flora say?” Damien gave a nervous laugh and curled up his toes, feeling more foolish by the moment. “Some such nonsense about catching chills, no doubt.”

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“And she'd be right.” Evan spoke calmly and deliberately, his gaze unwavering. “I’ll not go far,” Damien turned back to the door and reached for the handle, his hand trembling a little. Then, feeling a flash of courage, since he was no longer looking at the man, he added in as masterful a voice as he could muster. “Get yourself off to bed, Evan. I won't be needing you.” He managed to open the door a few inches before Evan's hand covered his and jerked it shut. Damien groaned inwardly and squeezed his eyes closed, feeling Evan's bulk behind him. The man didn't even try to show him respect, and now the only way out of this humiliation was to beat a tactical retreat back to his room. Damien leaned his forehead against the door, gathering his wits as he heard Evan move away. So much for breaking free. “I've changed my mind.” He turned and gave a small laugh while Evan looked on impassively. “Stupid idea. What was I thinking?” “Very wise, master.” Evan retrieved the gun and slung it back over his shoulder, then he walked over and relocked the kitchen door. “We wouldn't want to upset Flora now, would we? What with her being so good to you, and all.” “She is that.” Damien looked down at his bare feet. The sight of them made him cringe with embarrassment. “Goodnight then, master.” Evan nodded towards the door to the hallway, very much in charge now, indicating for Damien to go first. 25

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“Goodnight, Evan.” Damien made his way back up the stairs, blinking away foolish tears and wondering where Flora kept the laudanum. He needed it more than ever right now. **** “Alicia!” She jumped at the sound of her father's deep voice cutting into her reverie. “So this is where you've been hiding.” Alicia hastily adjusted her skirts and jumped out of the swing. “Father?” Looking around, she located his voice on the balcony. “Come up here this instant. I wish to talk with you.” Recognising the tone, she hurried up the steps. She'd almost fallen asleep on the swing, lost in a rather racy fantasy, induced by Wendy's elaborate description of her wedding night. To be fair, her cousin hadn't wanted to offer quite so much detail, but Alicia had pressed her for it, assuring her that she would share when the time came. And now she knew everything; it was both fascinating and alarming at the same time. “I did not buy you a new dress so that you could skulk in the shadows, young lady.” Her father surveyed her, shaking his head as he did so. “You will pass. Come, you are to be introduced to the Reverend John Crosbie. He has expressed an interest in meeting you.” Alicia's heart sank. Reverend? Could it get any worse? Reverends were the dullest of the lot. The thought of being condemned to the life of a minister's wife, all charity work and polite talk, made her shudder. And no 26

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man of God would surely want to indulge in any of the things Wendy had just been telling her about. Her father missed none of it. “He is an extremely wealthy and influential man, and has one of the better parishes. Word has it that he is looking for a wife, and we are honoured indeed that he wishes to meet you. Now put on your best smile, and do try to remember what is at stake.” You did not buy me this dress, Aunt Joan did. If only she had the courage to say it out loud. Instead she turned and meekly followed her uncharacteristically excited father back into the ballroom, which she anxiously scanned for the shortest, ugliest, spottiest man, sporting quite probably the biggest nose in England. For, with her luck, that was exactly what he would look like. She was again snapped out of her musings by a voice, this time deep and cultured with a silky edge that sent a small shiver down her spine. Turning, she found herself face to face with quite possibly the most handsome man in the entire world. The owner of the voice flashed a smile that made her heart skip the very beat Wendy had just mentioned, and when he took her hand his firm, masterful grip her she became positively dizzy with excitement. “Allow me to introduce myself. I am the Reverend John Crosbie and most honoured to make your acquaintance.” He finished his speech with a smart bow. The sparkle in his eyes belied the formality of his tone, and Alicia simply stared at him, her own eyes wide, wits scattered to the four winds. Rather than make him look austere, the formal black of his clerical dress seemed 27

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only to heighten his allure. The dark cloth stretched across broad shoulders and echoed the ebony hues of his hair which fell in softly rippling waves to his collar. His face held an expression of lazy amusement as she stood there, like a trapped rabbit waiting for the hunter to pounce. He still held her hand and was doing something with his thumb that made her insides turn to jelly. Her father looked on approvingly, mistaking her stupefied expression for one of a modest daughter doing her duty. And still the Reverend's thumb was discreetly caressing her palm. Right under father's nose, she thought, savouring the thrill that alone gave her. Hadn’t she prayed for this – a handsome, rich and desirable man? Suddenly he was here, right in front of her, just as Wendy had said he would be. And showing an interest. Of all the beautiful ladies in the room, and there were a great many, he was expressing an interest in her. The thought of all that competition returned her wits to her somewhat, and she at last remembered to drop a small curtsey and smile back at him. Although I cannot imagine that mine is having anywhere near the impact on him that his is having on me, she thought giddily. The Reverend Crosbie turned to her father, still keeping hold of her hand. “You did not exaggerate your daughter's beauty, and, having met her –, well, I am indeed intrigued.” He flashed her another smile, one that conveyed much more than its outward appearance. Crosbie seemed to have the ability to look right through her and everything about him appeared to promise so much more. Alicia's fertile imagination already raced ahead of her. 28

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“You are indeed most kind, sir, or do I call you Reverend, or...” She blushed at the way the words tripped on her tongue. He most gallantly came to her rescue. “Most of my friends call me Crosbie. Could you do that, do you think? I’d like to be friends with you, Alicia.” “Of course…Crosbie He seemed satisfied with that, giving her the smallest hint of a wink of his eye. Alicia swallowed down the surge of excitement that threatened to make her knees buckle. This was far too informal for a first meeting; he was flirting with her right in front of her father, who seemed completely oblivious to the fact. Her mouth twitched and she bit back an unladylike grin. The Reverend Crosbie was something of a rebel, it seemed. Oh, she was going to like him. She was going to like him a lot. “I hope you don’t mind me being so forward, Miss Stanton.” He treated her to another smile, taking advantage of the fact that her father had been momentarily distracted, and leaned closer. “I spotted you when you arrived and I just had to find out who you were.” “Alicia,” she managed to say. “Please call me Alicia.” Mr Stanton turned back to them, frowned and coughed pointedly. Crosbie let go of her hand and turned to him. “I’m terribly sorry, I have a prior engagement and must leave now, but I’m having a small dinner party at Barton 29

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House next Saturday. I would be honoured if you could attend.” Alicia watched her father anxiously as he bowed and thanked Crosbie for the invitation. Of course they would attend, the honour was all theirs he assured the Reverend. Formality reigned once more and they said their goodbyes. Her father watched Crosbie’s retreat with narrowed eyes and turned to her. “Well done, Alicia. I believe he found you favourable. Let us hope that he makes a formal enquiry as to your prospects, for this match would suit me quite well. He is a wealthy man and an investor, so I hear.” So typical of her father to completely disregard her feelings in the matter, but for once she did not care, her mind still reeling as it was from the meeting with Crosbie. Mr Stanton patted her awkwardly on the back and strode away, leaving Alicia staring into space. She jumped when her cousin suddenly appeared. “Alicia, is anything the matter?” Wendy hurried towards her, face creased into a frown. “I declare you are looking quite flushed.” “No, no, nothing is wrong.” Alicia looked at her palm, which still tingled with Crosbie’s touch, and pressed it to her cheek. Her face was indeed hot. She turned slowly to her cousin. “Oh, Wendy, you’ll never guess. I think I'm in love, at last.” **** A decanter of brandy took the place of the laudanum, which was nowhere to be found. Damien awoke at dawn, sprawled across his writing desk and reeking of the stuff. 30

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Lifting his pounding head, he attempted to focus on the room about him and thought, hell, how can I go on like this? I just want it to end. Please kill me now. He closed his eyes, raised his face to the heavens – or, in this case, the ceiling – and waited. As usual his prayers went unanswered. Damnation, something had to get him soon. The alcohol, the laudanum or the sun …he didn't mind which it was, as long as he went out in a poetic blaze of glory. His stomach heaved when he tried to get up, so he slumped back down again. Vainly, he tried to focus on a future, but all he saw was more of the same misery. It was only ever leading to one place. He managed a dry smile. A legend required a legendary death, so why not give them one? One that would be talked about for generations to come. And one that would top the stupid tale about the devil coming for his father. Someone had come for his father that fateful night. The memory of cowering in the dusty attic, with Flora's trembling arms wrapped around him and Alex blubbering beside them, was still vivid. Whether his father was dead, or had simply abandoned them all, Damien had no idea. With his mother already gone, he had found himself alone, and virtually a prisoner as one by one the servants left and the house grew silent. Alex had gleefully regaled him with tales of the devil and glowing coaches, but he’d never really believed them. For years he’d been wrapped in the grief of knowing that neither of his parents had wanted him enough to take him with them, probably because of his infirmity, and he wasn’t about to excuse their behaviour by believing that it had been out of their hands. 31

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But the legends of the mysterious occupants of the dark old house on the cliff had grown, and Damien grinned wickedly as he formulated a plan. So, they thought him a vampire, and sometimes, when he was so far gone that he couldn't tell reality from fantasy, he even halfbelieved himself to be one. It was fitting, then, that he die a vampire's death. What better way to bring this sordid tale to a logical conclusion? He made his decision. The next time he found himself alone, he was going to fall asleep in the sun and, if his condition was as bad as they believed, he wouldn’t wake up. Then in death he would become the evil vampire everyone believed him to be. Perhaps he’d even do a spot of haunting before he moved on to the next world. And those stupid gossips would have something to talk about for generations to come. A perfectly reasonable plan. Laying his head back down on his desk he closed his eyes and within minutes he was snoring loudly.

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Chapter 3 After the longest week Alicia had ever experienced, during which her meeting with Crosbie had started to feel like nothing but a dream, Saturday finally arrived. Now she was in a state of panic. Had she only imagined him to be handsome? When she saw him next would he be short and balding, instead of the tall, sophisticated man she remembered? “Oh, do keep still Lissa,” Dana paused, hairpin in hand, and contemplated her sister. “You look truly beautiful tonight. Aunt Joan bought you such pretty gowns, and the Reverend Crosbie cannot help but fall madly in love with you.” She sighed, reached for a silver-backed hair brush, and continued pinning up Alicia's hair. “I wish I were coming too.” “So do I, Dana, but I imagine it would be quite tedious for you. I understand it is to be a small gathering.” She turned her head from side to side and inspected Dana's work. “Intimate was the word he used. Just a few of his friends, then he and Papa will, I imagine, talk of business.” “But the enquiry has been made regarding your prospects?” “He has been informed of my inheritance from Aunt Joan, but I can’t imagine that it will be of any consequence to him. He’s a very wealthy man, by all accounts” “Tell me again how it was when you first saw him?” 33

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“Oh, Dana, I've told you this a dozen times,” Alicia laughed as her sister flopped back onto the bed, with a disappointed groan. “But I will tell you again.” “When Papa said the word reverend my heart sank, but when I saw the man…how can I describe it? Yes, he is handsome but there's something else. He had an aura about him that quite mesmerised me.” “And are you in love with him?” “I think so, because if this constant feeling of butterflies in my stomach is not love, then I don't know what is.” “And do you think he loves you?” Dana sat up, hugging her knees to her chest. “I will miss you when you are married, Lissa. And you’ve only just returned from America.” Alicia laughed. “I don’t know whether he loves me or not, only that his look seemed to promise something.” She frowned a little, remembering how Crosbie's steady, dark-eyed gaze had seemed to be looking deep inside of her at something she herself had yet to discover. Dana was definitely too young to hear that. “There is Mama calling,” she said picking up her shawl. She leaned over to give Dana a peck on the cheek. “Wish me luck?” Her sister hugged her back, holding on just a little longer than usual. “You will not need it, and I will miss you.” “Oh, Dana, don't cry. I’m not wed yet.” Alicia descended the stairs with mixed feelings. Part of her wanted to stay. She hadn't realised how much Dana 34

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had needed her, and knew now that it had been quite selfish of her to disappear to America for four years and leave her sister behind. But another part of her wanted quite desperately to experience those things Wendy had talked about, and for that she needed to be married. For the last week she’d thought of nothing else. It was undoubtedly most wicked of her, but she’d even imagined herself doing those things with Crosbie, which had almost resulted in the vapours on more than one occasion. “Alicia, this will not do.” Her mother scuttled up and began to fan her vigorously. “What have you done to yourself?” she chided. “You are quite red in the face. It is most unfashionable.” “Sorry, Mother.” Alicia firmly banished the images from her mind, and then started worrying that they would pop back in at some inopportune moment during the evening. “I am nervous, that is all.” “Quite natural, child.” Taking a few moments to fuss with Alicia’s hair, her mother gazed at her with an expression that almost amounted to affection. “I was nervous when I first met your father, but don't worry, the green silk makes you look so pretty that the Reverend Crosbie cannot help but be smitten by you.” “Oh, Mother, do you think so, because I want him so much.” “Alicia!” Her mother retrieved the fan and fanned herself vigorously. “That is not the way a young lady should speak. It may do for American society, but…ahh, here is your father at last.” 35

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Alicia gave an inward sigh of relief when her father indicated they should follow him to the waiting carriage. She tried to swallow her nerves as she seated herself, knowing that if the Reverend Crosbie offered for her hand tonight, she would be the happiest woman alive. **** Now I am decided upon my course I find that a strange peace, that has hitherto eluded me, has infused my whole being. Flora is to travel to Plymouth with Evan in two days time, leaving only Alex in attendance. I have tried to persuade her to stay overnight so that I can be sure of attaining my goal without fear of discovery, but she is adamant that she will return by sundown. I must therefore hope that this spell of fine weather will continue and that my end will be mercifully swift. Damien blotted off the page and blew gently over the ink to ensure that it was dry. Closing the book carefully, he looked around his bedroom, wondering where he might successfully hide it from Flora. That she read his private thoughts had never really bothered him. She was the only one who ever read his poetry, and even she seemed reluctant to do so of late, but he couldn't let her read this. His childhood nurse would be completely hysterical if she guessed what he was contemplating, and he did feel a twinge of guilt at the thought of how bereft she would be after he'd gone. But, he reasoned, sliding the book under his mattress, it would allow her to leave this place for good and live a normal life. After all her devotion to him she deserved that, so he was, in truth, doing everyone a favour in this. As he stood, he caught his reflection in the large mirror that leaned against the wall. He told himself that he kept it because he admired its ornate frame, not because he 36

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was vain enough to want to look at himself. But he did look at himself, and often. His white-blond hair he kept shoulder-length, tied back with a ribbon when he could be bothered. Flora cut it for him when it became too unmanageable and washed it for him when his head started to itch. His skin was exceedingly pale– due, he supposed–, to his lack of exposure to the sun, and it made his dark blue eyes stand out all the more prominently. He had sharp cheekbones that became more so when he did not eat properly, and his bottom lip was fuller than the top one, which gave him a slightly petulant air. As for height, he was shorter than Evan by a good head, a lot taller than Flora and about the same as Alex. And therein lay his problem. He could only judge himself in relation the people around him, and, since they were so few, it left him with no real idea of whether he was handsome, ugly or indifferent-looking. He turned himself, watching the candlelight casting strange shadows which caused his cheekbones to appear even more hollow, and wondered whether any woman would have found him attractive. Flora constantly told him he was, but he couldn't trust her opinion. She would have called him handsome even if he'd looked like the rear end of a donkey. He scrunched up his face, thinking that if he had been a vampire he wouldn't be able to do this at all. And soon it would all be immaterial because he’d be gone. No more flesh, no more bones. Only ashes and dust. And peace, at last. He spared himself one moment of regret that his only experience of women was through the collection of lewd books he'd discovered in his father's study, then he drew 37

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himself up straight and looked his reflection squarely in the eye. “You can do this,” he told the image. For a moment he wavered, then caught a glimpse in his mind’s eye of the next twenty years stretching out before him, one lonely day after another. The vision strengthened his resolve like nothing else. He nodded to his reflection, and went in search of the sleeping draught. To do this properly he was going to need that. **** Dinner was a pleasant affair, although, with her stomach so full of butterflies, Alicia could only pick at her food. Every time Crosbie caught her eye, and he managed to do so often, she felt such a fluttering that it made her light-headed. After dinner the men retired for their cigars and brandy, leaving the ladies to walk in the gardens. “He is very handsome, is he not?” Alicia turned to the young lady who’d fallen into step with her. “I can't say I've noticed.” She tried to assume a casual air, not wanting to seem too eager. “Oh, come on, Alicia, I saw the way you watched him all through the meal. No, don't blush. He's a very...desirable man, is he not?” The woman gave a low, throaty laugh. “And I can see that he desires you.” “You can? Desires me…” Oh dear, had it been that plain? Had everybody seen? Alicia glanced at the woman, only now noticing that her companion was wearing a little too much rouge and her red silk dress was cut far too low for a formal dinner party. “Do you know him well?” 38

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“Quite well, yes.” She took hold of Alicia's arm. “Come, let’s go back inside, I'm sure the men are having a better time than this.” Alicia looked at the party of ladies who were seating themselves in the rose arbour. “Mama will never allow it, and surely the men would not want us intruding on their cards and business talk?” “You know nothing of men, do you?” The woman propelled her towards the group of seated ladies. “A man always has time for a pretty face, and yours is exceptionally so. Did you know Crosbie is going to formally ask for your hand?” “Really?” Alicia steadied herself. “I had hoped, but...” “So you see, he is practically your fiancé. Ahh Mrs. Stanton, may I borrow your daughter for a while? She has expressed an interest in seeing the house. She will be well chaperoned, of course.” Alicia covered her surprise at the lie, and managed a nod of agreement. Her mother looked flustered for a moment but, to her relief, she waved them off with her blessing. “There, that wasn't hard, was it?” The woman winked conspiratorially at Alicia as they turned back for the house. “I can think of better things to do than talk about charity work and crochet. Let's go upstairs. There's something I want to show you.” They entered the house and climbed the staircase in silence, Alicia’s companion suddenly devoid of any 39

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conversation now that they were alone. Alicia glanced around, bemused as she was led down a side corridor and through a door, behind which was a long gallery full of paintings. She was even more surprised to see Crosbie casually leaning against the door frame, arms folded. He advanced on her, giving her the smile that did strange things to her insides. “You must forgive me, Alicia. I asked Eugenia to bring you here. Are you cross with me?” “No.” She managed an answer without stammering and glanced around to see Eugenia disappearing through the door. Cross with him? Surprised, yes. But to be alone with him like this before their marriage broke every convention she’d ever lived by. The thought was so exciting, her knees were trembling. He took her hand and contemplated it. “I just wanted a moment alone with you Alicia, I've thought of nothing but you since our last meeting.” And I of you, she thought, although she didn't dare say it aloud. Instead she giggled. “This is most improper,” she managed, looking up coyly then dropping her gaze to his hand where it rested on hers. He was doing that thing with his thumb again, rubbing it lightly across her palm, and each stroke was sending a tingling from the middle of her stomach right down to the area that no genteel young woman ever talked about. “Do you mind?” His voice was low and seductive as he drew her along the corridor. “No, I don't mind.” She followed him because he was impossible to resist. Nor did she want to resist. All he 40

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was doing was touching her hand and talking to her, but never had she felt anything like this. Wendy's description of her wedding night flashed into her head and a flush crept along her cheeks. “Ahh, Alicia.” He hadn't missed it. “What are you thinking about?” Crosbie leaned down and looked right into her face. Her flush grew even deeper. “Umm… I was admiring your paintings.” He chuckled, a low rumbling deep in his chest. “You know,” he said tilting his head and regarding her thoughtfully, “I think you and I are alike in many ways. You feel stifled by all the conventions that bind you. Am I right?” The comment caught her off balance. “I’m not sure what you mean, sir. Are you saying that you did not wish to become a reverend?” “Oh, it suits my purposes well enough, but I’ve always been… how shall I put this? An adventurous soul. As I think you are? You are, after all, well-travelled for one so young.” The compliment made her glow and stand a little straighter. When Crosbie’s hand drifted to her shoulder she kept very still, desperate to appear the sophisticated woman he obviously thought her to be. “I can sense great potential in you, Alicia,” he said still in the low hypnotic tone that was swiftly robbing her of all good sense. “Come, we were talking about paintings, let me show you my favourite.”

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He walked her to the end of the corridor where another door led to a yet another room full of paintings. The entire end wall was covered with a mural, in front of which he stopped her. By this time her heart was fluttering so wildly in her chest that she could hardly breathe. Papa would kill me if he could see me now, she thought as Crosbie moved behind her and put one hand on each of her shoulders. He positioned her squarely in front of the mural and leaned down to whisper close to her ear. “Do you like it, Alicia?” She looked absently at the painting, concentrating more on the feel of his hands on her shoulders than the image in front of her. They were moving lightly over her and, as he pressed himself closer, she felt his feather-light touch sliding down to the tops of her breasts, his fingers splaying and closing as he caressed her. She dropped back against him, lost in the erotic haze in which he was engulfing her, and wondering whether she ought to be responding. With no idea what to do, she decided to simply stay still and let him take the lead, since he seemed to be more experienced in these matters. This is so wrong, she thought, almost dizzy with excitement. And him a man of God, too. But, it feels so good, and yes, I am a woman of the world now that I’ve travelled to America and back. He’s to be my husband, after all… A thousand excuses for their behaviour coursed through her mind as she felt herself surrendering to his seduction. She couldn’t help a slightly hysterical laugh when she remembered that her oh so prim and proper parents were downstairs, totally unaware of what she 42

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was doing. For once in her life she, not they, had control. “I knew it.” Crosbie’s arms came right around her, trapping hers as his hands came to rest directly over her breasts. She gave a small gasp as his thumbs grazed lightly over them. If this is so wrong, she thought, her breathing suddenly erratic, then why does it feel so good? She closed her eyes and rocked back, eliciting a shuddering groan from him when she encountered something hard against her. Goodness, I’ve hurt him, she thought and tried to move away. Crosbie jerked her back and tightened his grip. “I knew it,” he murmured. “You’re just like all the rest under that oh, so proper exterior, aren’t you? I'm going to enjoy walking through fire with you, Alicia.” His warm, moist breath fanned her cheek, and she stiffened when his grip tightened. Suddenly it didn't feel so good any more. A small feeling of panic gripped her as she struggled to free herself. Bringing her hands up, she tried to break his hold, but he was far too strong. “Crosbie,” her voice shook. “Mama will be waiting for me.” What had he just said? The words were only now making sense, filtering through the haze. “Oh, come now, don’t disappoint me. You haven't seen my painting yet.” He was still holding her firmly, forcing her to look up. Perhaps if I do, he’ll let me go? Alicia raised her eyes to the mural, scanning back and forth. “It… it's lovely, Crosbie.” She quickly turned away.

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“No, look properly.” His hand cupped her chin and turned her back. She looked again and her breath caught in her throat as she realised just what she was seeing. Satyrs and nymphs, devils and harlots swarmed over the painting, all engaging the kind of activities she could never have imagined. She wanted to tear her eyes away but, with a kind of morbid fascination, found that she couldn’t. Crosbie’s deep chuckle rumbled against her hair. “Does it excite you?” One hand dropped lower to skim lightly over her stomach, and his harsh, heavy breathing filled the quiet of the room. She made another effort to push him away, and he let her go, staggering back with a laugh. “You can't run away, my little bird.” His voice floated after her as she fled from the room. “You’re far too tasty a catch. I'm not about to let you go so easily.” Alicia lifted her skirts and ran the length of the corridor. Slamming the door behind her, she burst onto the landing, uncaring that anyone might see her. The stairs she took two at a time, her dress tangling between her legs, and she didn't stop running until she'd reached the safety of a quiet corner at the side of the house. He was so rough. And after making me feel all those things. Wendy didn't mention any of that. Are all men like this? Her mind was a whirl of confusion. The picture had fascinated her and revolted her at the same time. Did that mean she was bad? Whatever had happened to her usually-good judgement?

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She caught her breath and tried to compose herself enough join the other ladies, unsure now that she wanted to marry the Reverend Crosbie. Or that she wanted to marry anyone at all. Perhaps all marriages were like this, or like her mother and father’s, and Wendy's was the happy exception? Alicia straightened her skirts and pressed trembling hands to her hot cheeks. She needed to talk to Papa and tell him she'd changed her mind. But what reason did she give? Wasn’t she as guilty as Crosbie in this? Hadn't she allowed him to do those things to her? No lady of any morals would have consented to that. Papa would be furious with her, but he was her father, after all. Perhaps he'd listen to reason? As she made her way to join the rest of the party, fervently hoping she wouldn't encounter Crosbie again, she very much doubted that he would. When had her father ever given up the chance of making a profit? If consent had already been asked for and given, then she was as good as engaged. Like some half-wit, she'd walked willingly into the trap. And now, it seemed, there was no way out.

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Chapter 4 Damien leaned back in his chair and rubbed at his eyes. With this letter to Flora and the completion of his Will the last of his affairs were in order. He had no idea whether the Will was legally binding or not. Nor whether there were any living heirs to the Lucius fortune, or lack of it. Neither did he care, for tomorrow he would leave this wretched place for good, and all those earthly worries would be far behind him. Wandering over to the window, he looked out at the dark, moving shape of the sea, over which the sun was just beginning to set. He hadn't lived a bad life, but it suddenly occurred to him that he should perhaps be making some sort of confession of his few sins before he did this thing. He'd never been to church, and couldn't remember the last time he'd prayed with any sincerity, but surely God wouldn’t make him languish in purgatory for too long? A fondness for wine and a weakness for lewd books hardly constituted mortal sins. And he hadn't shouted at Flora that often. Why, he'd even said please and thank you to her on occasion. Perhaps he'd taken to pleasuring himself a little too often of late, and he'd read enough on that matter to know it was frowned upon by the Church. He could only hope that God, or St Peter, or whoever was in charge of these things, would understand his dilemma, given his lack of contact with women. All in all, he was fairly satisfied of a swift entry to paradise, until a thought popped into his mind that wouldn't then leave him alone. There was a scripture that said the sins of the father would be visited on the 46

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children, or some such thing. He couldn't remember exactly, but for the first time in his life Damien wished he’d known his father. All he had of his parents, apart from a few fleeting memories, were the possessions they’d left behind and the portraits hanging in the picture gallery. And those told him nothing at all, save that his father had a grim expression and his mother looked to be very beautiful, although a little sad. And, of course, there was the legend. Surely if he were to be made to pay for his father's sins, he was doing so already? And he reckoned to have paid handsomely. Well, soon he would find out for sure. He took himself off to the library for one last look at his precious books and wondered what a betting man would give for his chances. Heaven or hell? Tomorrow he would find out. When he finally got to bed he fell asleep with surprising ease for a man who was contemplating suicide on the morrow. The following morning he awoke to the sound of heavy rain rattling against the window pane. **** “Alicia!” Wendy engulfed her cousin in a hug, welcoming her inside. “This is a pleasant surprise. Goodness, let's take your coat. Surely you did not walk in all this rain?” Alicia shrugged out of the coat, removed her dripping bonnet and handed them to the waiting maid. Smoothing back the wet strands of hair clinging to her 47

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face, she looked around the elegantly furnished hallway. “You have a beautiful home, Wendy. I'm sorry I didn't let you know I was coming. I need to talk with you.” Wendy took her hand. “What’s wrong, Alicia? Why, you look quite glum.” “I am...I…” Alicia's mouth quavered and the tears that had been threatening to come all morning finally began to fall. She wiped at them with her hand, turning away in embarrassment from the maid's curious stare. “Can we...” “Of course. Where are my manners?” Wendy quickly ordered some tea and led Alicia to the conservatory. “Sit down, and tell me what's wrong. Has something happened to your father or mother? Or Dana?” “No, they are all well.” Alicia took a handkerchief from her sleeve and blew her nose. “It's me.” “You? But what...?” Alicia stopped her. “Wendy, I want you to help me run away.” Wendy sat back. “What did you just say?” “I need to run away, and soon.” Alicia twisted the handkerchief around her fingers and leaned forward. “I can't marry him.” “Crosbie? But I thought you were engaged. It is all about the village.” “We are. But, Wendy, I no longer want to be. He's not the man I thought he was.” 48

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“But what has changed? The last time I saw you, you were madly in love with him.” The two girls lapsed into silence as the maid arrived with the tea. They waited until she was out of earshot before resuming their conversation. “Now, what is this? Has he offended you in some way?” “When we were at his house…” Alicia didn't know how to say it. How could she explain her part in it and still expect to leave her reputation intact? “He lured me upstairs and showed me a dreadfully lewd picture, then he touched me in a most improper manner.” She looked away as a blush crept across her cheeks. “He attacked you? You poor girl. Have you told your father?” “No. He wouldn't believe me. He is so set on this match.” “But he must be told. Crosbie is a scoundrel to do such a thing. Alicia, you must tell him.” They became silent again. Wendy frowned with righteous indignation, while Alicia thought about the story she’d just told her cousin. A story that laid all of the blame at Crosbie's door and made her sound like an innocent, when in truth she was not. Her cup rattled when she placed it on the table and looked squarely at Wendy. “I haven't told you the whole truth in this. I'm such a wanton. I let him touch me, Wendy, and I enjoyed it. I'm nothing more than a harlot.” 49

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Wendy flew across to her. “What kind of talk is this? I can’t believe he’d do that – he’s a man of God. Did you encourage him?” “I didn’t initiate it, but I didn't stop him when I should have. It was horrible. He was so rough, and he said some awful things. And the painting… I could never have imagined…” A fresh round of tears started. Alicia sniffed them back, her tear-stained face presenting the very picture of abject misery. “Why would a reverend want a picture like that in his house?” Wendy slid her arms around Alicia's shoulders. “Don’t worry, cousin, I believe you. Isn’t it just like a man to lay the blame on a woman when he is driven to uncontrollable desires? He will say it was your pretty face that caused him to lose control. That you are Eve sent to tempt him, or some such nonsense. Be assured you are the innocent party in this, and Crosbie, as a man of the cloth, should have more control, not less. Tell our father about the painting, it will add weight to your argument. He will surely intervene when you explain what happened.” Alicia leaned her head wearily on Wendy's shoulder. “I wish it were that simple. How can I even find the words to describe what happened? Papa would have a fit. And Crosbie would most probably deny everything. What if he told Papa I did encourage him? I feel so foolish, Wendy. Why didn’t I see this coming?” “How could you possibly have? Perhaps if you went to see Crosbie and told him how you felt he would release you?”

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“I don't think so. How can he let me go now that I know his secret? I don't ever want to see him again. Running away is the only answer.” “This is too rash, Alicia. Where will you go? How will you live?” Wendy regarded her anxiously. “I’ll go to Plymouth.” “But Plymouth is full of sailors. You would not be safe there.” “I’ll secure myself a position as a governess. I can read and write. Surely someone will be able to make use of me?” “And how will you get there? You will need money for the coach. Do you have any money?” Wendy asked, looking more anxious by the moment.” “No, but I’ll sell something, some jewellery. Aunt Joan bought me a few pieces in America. I should get a good price for them.” “Aunt Joan. Of course.” Wendy's face lit up. “Can you not send word to her? She will understand, and perhaps intervene for you.” Alicia sat down again. “I can't. She’s gone back to Bath, and taken Dana with her, and Dana was so excited to be asked. I can’t spoil it for her with my troubles. No, I have it all planned. You only need take part in a small deception.” She waited to see what her cousin would say. It did seem unfair to pressure her, but Wendy was the only one she could trust in this.

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Wendy looked at Alicia for a long moment, then sighed. “You have always been a good friend to me, how could I abandon you now when you need me? I will help you, but you must promise me you will at least make one attempt to speak with your father.” Alicia nodded. “I will try, but I hold out no hope of him relenting, since he’s so set on Crosbie’s investment potential. I fear I will have to do this.” “Wendy held out her hand. “Then tell me what my part must be.” As Alicia elaborated on her plan she noticed that the rain had stopped. The sun was out and making the puddles on the patio glitter and shine. Things always seemed so much better when the sun shone, and she felt her resolve slipping a little as the storm clouds rolled back to reveal an impossibly blue sky. Perhaps things weren’t as bad as she’d feared? But then she thought of Crosbie and the way he'd touched her, the things he'd said, and wondered just what she’d be prepared to do to get away from him. She had fleetingly thought of throwing herself off the cliff, but would she really be able to do that? Take her own life? The thought made her shudder. Anyone prepared to go that far must know real despair indeed. **** I am rapidly becoming of the opinion that God does not want me to leave this world after all. I am quite resigned to my fate, yet today, when I would have it fine, the sky is overcast with clouds so black, and the rain so heavy, that I would surely drown before I had achieved my goal. And I do not think a vampire can drown, so where 52

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would be my glorious and legendary death? I watch the sky anxiously for signs that the storm will pass. I am ready for this. Damien stood in the large bay window, his forehead pressed against the glass, one arm extended above his head. He traced the rivulets of rain as they zig-zagged down the pane and watched them pool on the stone window sill. For it to rain today after a dry spell of nearly two weeks was a fitting irony. It seemed he couldn't even kill himself properly. Yes, there were other means of achieving his goal, but he didn't want to be found poisoned, or bleeding to death, or battered by a fall from one of the towers. A vampire's death was the only way he’d be remembered, and for that he needed the sun. He heard Flora bustling about in the hall, getting ready for her trip. For an awful moment that morning he'd thought she wasn't going. With one look at the rain, she’d declared that the trip should be postponed, and it had taken all of his powers of persuasion to convince her otherwise. Evan was preparing the small coach. Flora flatly refused to travel in the larger one bearing the Lucius crest, even though it was by far the most comfortable. She had no desire, she declared, to scare the villagers half to death by appearing in the very coach that they all vehemently believed had taken Mallory Lucius to hell. Damien, on the other hand, had always believed it would be the height of amusement to do so. When he was younger he'd imagined painting it a bright scarlet, donning one of his father's old greatcoats and driving it through the village on All Hallows eve. It would have been amusing, but of course he'd never done it, and now never would. 53

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He turned his head as Flora came into the room, fastening her bonnet. “Now, I've left you a pie for your dinner. Promise me that you will eat some of it, and not let that greedy son of mine have it all? And please come away from the window.” “Yes Flora.” He roused himself from his contemplation of the rain and turned to her. “Come here. I want to kiss you goodbye.” She bustled over to him and engulfed him in a hug, looking surprised when he didn’t immediately let her go. “My dear boy, whatever is the matter? Are you unwell? I could stay if you are.” “No, you go.” Damien dropped his arms and stepped back. “Just wanted to say a proper goodbye.” “You are unwell.” Her hand came to rest lightly on his forehead. “Do you have a fever, my sweet?” “No.” Damien stood still as she trailed her hand through his hair, muttering that it needed cutting. “But I’ve always liked it when you do that.” Flora dropped the hand and cocked her head. “You are in a strange mood today. I think I will stay.” Her fingers pulled at the ribbons of her bonnet. Daimen stepped forward and took them from her, deftly retying them. “Go to Plymouth, you know how you enjoy your trips out, and don't hurry back. Stay as long as you like.”

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Flora pursed her lips and stared at him, then shook her head. “I'll go then, but I will not be late back. God keep you, Damien.” “And you.” He followed her to the front door, earning himself another suspicious look. “Just thought I'd wave you off,” he said with forced jollity. The parting was turning out to be rather more emotionally disturbing than he'd imagined. If she didn't go soon he was sorely afraid of disgracing himself with tears. Flora glanced out at the sky and gave him a peck on the cheek. “Thank heavens the rain is easing at last. We may well see some sunshine before this day is out, after all. Goodbye Damien.” “Goodbye Flora, and thank you for everything.” She didn't hear his last words. Damien looked out at the sky to see for himself that the sun was indeed coming out from behind the clouds. He walked back towards the grand staircase and began to climb. A large quantity of the sleeping draught would make sure he didn't wake up before achieving his goal, and a sunny spot in the garden would seal his fate. Alex wouldn't be bothering him any time soon. Damien had made sure of leaving out all of his father's most private collection of books and etchings in the library and then asking Alex to go and tidy them up. It should keep him busy for the next few hours. If he was true to form he would then fall asleep from his exertions as he usually did. Good old Alex, so predictable.

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As Damien walked down the galleried landing, he paused in front of the portraits of his father and mother. Mallory Lucius, with hair as dark as night, looking every bit like the proverbial vampire. Daria, as much a contrast to her husband as she could be, with her small frame, pale hair and fine features. Together they'd produced him, then left him cursed and abandoned in this prison. He bowed to his mother and made a rude gesture to his father. “Thank you for nothing,” he muttered, and went into his room to prepare himself.

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Chapter 5 To the Reverend Crosbie. I find that after great consideration I cannot marry you after all and hope that you will release me from the contract... “No, that will not do.” Alicia screwed up the sheet of paper and threw it down. Dipping the pen in the ink, she tried again. After the incident at your house, I find that you are not the man I thought you to be, therefore... No, no, this had to be just right. How did she word this so Crosbie would know she was serious? You are a pig, Crosbie. I would find marriage with you akin to an eternity in hell and would no longer contemplate it, were you the last man on this earth.” That made her smile, albeit briefly, for she was not in the mood for frivolities. But, like the others, it swiftly found its way to the waste paper basket. Insulting him was not the best way to go about this. Perhaps if she appealed to his better nature? Crosbie, You must know now that after the way I reacted during our last meeting, I am not the woman you thought me to be. Therefore I must ask you to take me seriously when I say I cannot marry you, now or ever. I will speak with my father on this when he returns from London, and have great hopes of his understanding in this matter. 57

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Alicia S. She read it through three times, wondering what else she could say and, deep inside, holding out little hope that he would take any notice of her plea. However, she had fulfilled part of her commitment to Wendy. Now all she need do was wait for her father to return from his business trip, and in the meantime store up enough courage to tackle him on the matter. In truth, confidence in her plan to run away was waning with each moment that passed. A post as a governess would not be easy to secure without good references, and who would give her those? Wendy had been right to worry about her safety. Yes, Alicia had travelled widely with Aunt Joan, but always with the benefit of a large entourage of servants to look after them. A young woman travelling alone would surely attract attention of the wrong kind. Alicia prayed fervently that, by some miracle, her father would understand and she would not have to elaborate too much on the detail of the matter. Then, satisfied that the ink was dry, she folded the letter and went in search of someone to deliver it. **** Perhaps God does want me after all, Damien thought, squinting up at the dazzling blue of the now-cloudless sky. The sun warmed his skin and the trees at the edge of what had once been the lawn blurred into a mass of greens and browns. He took another swig from the bottle and shook his head. Who was going to miss him, apart from Flora? His life meant nothing to anyone, save her. A picture of her following his coffin floated into his befuddled mind as the bottle slipped from his fingers. 58

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She’d cry real tears for him. Miss him in a way no-one else would. His shirt slipped from his shoulders and dropped to the ground. The grass was cold and wet when he rolled onto his back. It made him shiver as he stretched out his arms and offered himself as a sacrifice to the sun. A suicide couldn’t be buried according to the rites of the Church, so would he find rest in some forgotten corner of the grounds, quietly slipping into legend as his father had done? Yes, that was what he wanted. His eyes fluttered closed against the brightness of the sun and he saw them all; Flora, Alex, Evan. His father and mother, turning away to leave him there, cold and alone in his grave. A moment of panic overtook him but, as the figures started to fade, someone else quietly joined the small, sombre group. Damien frowned and tried to open his eyes. Standing in front of the others was a small, delicate figure with hair that floated like a veil around a glowing face. Her expression held such love and concern that he thought his heart would break. Her lips moved, as if she was trying to tell him something, but no matter how hard he listened he heard no sound. His last thought before he slipped into unconsciousness was that he didn't want to do this any more. What was he thinking? He had to find out the woman’s identity and ask why she'd come to him now. Of all the times he'd fantasized about the woman of his dreams, he'd never been able to clearly see her face. Yet now she stood before him, almost as real as he was. As blackness overwhelmed him, he made out one word. 59

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“Stay.” **** “Evan!” Flora stuck her head out of the coach window, holding on to her bonnet for fear of it blowing away. “Evan, stop the coach.” The coach ground to a halt, jolting her against the seat. Evan pulled up the horses with a roar and jumped down. “What is it now, woman? Did you not relieve yourself just a mile back?” “I do not want to relieve myself, Evan.” She took a moment to regain her breath. “ 'Tis Damien, I never should have left him this morning. Turn the coach around.” “I will not.” Evan folded his arms and glared stubbornly back at her. “I have things to do in Plymouth. Damien will survive one day alone. You do fuss over him far too much.” Flora favoured him with an equally stubborn expression. “If you do not turn around this instant I will get out and walk back.” To reinforce her declaration she made to open the door. Evan caught her hand in his. “God's blood, woman, if you won't be the death of me… Calm yourself, and I'll take you back. Anything, so I don't have to put up with your incessant nagging.” “Please, Evan.” A tear rolled down her cheek. “I have such a dreadful feeling. We must go back.” 60

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**** She was digging with her hands. Clawing at the soil, breaking her nails, stripping the skin from her knuckles. He was down there somewhere, and she had to get to him. Before the flesh melted from his bones, before his beauty became but a memory. She called out, but knew he couldn't hear her. She couldn't find him, no matter how hard she tried. Alicia awoke with a jolt. Wiping her eyes she looked around, bemused, and realised that she was at her writing desk and must have fallen asleep while updating her journal. Stretching out slowly, she caught sight of her hands, still white, the skin soft and unmarked, her knuckles unscratched. She inspected them closely. Not a mark. But it had felt so real. She pushed back her chair and stood up, shivering slightly. “Just a dream, just a dream,” she muttered. What had she been trying to do? No-one came back from the dead. When you were in your coffin, you stayed there. Unless you were a... Stop it, Alicia. It's nothing but a stupid legend made up to frighten children. And emotional young women, she thought ruefully. Nerves, nothing more. The thought of talking with her father was enough to induce nightmares in anyone. But, later, as she walked around the garden, she couldn't shake the feeling that she should have completed the task. That the man in her dream was still waiting for her, desperate and sad because she couldn’t find him.

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Why did this have to happen now? Did she not have enough to worry about between Crosbie and her father? Was she slowly escaping into madness, and this was but a symptom of it? Ahh, she thought, there’s the solution to my problem. I’ll go quietly mad and run away with the man who calls to me so eloquently from his grave. Perhaps it was a sign she was to join him, and live forever in the cold dark, for would that not be preferable to a life with Crosbie? The thought made her laugh, a slightly hysterical sound which earned her a strange look from the gardener who was tending the roses. He cut one and handed it to her as she passed him. “Because you look so sad, Miss Alicia. 'Tis your favourite colour, I believe.” “It is. Thank you.” She took it from him, carefully avoiding the thorns and contemplated its delicate beauty. “Would anyone miss me if I were gone, Johnson?” The old gardener leaned on his spade, smiling kindly, while she buried her nose into the soft petals and inhaled the rich, musky scent. “Now what kind of talk is that, Miss Alicia? Why, if you weren't here, who would kill all the monsters and demons?” The memory made her blush. “I wanted to be a hero, didn't I? Do you remember the sword I begged you to make?” “You were going to rid the world of all evil. Feisty little thing, you were.” 62

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“I was, wasn't I? What happened to that little girl, I wonder?” “Oh she's still there, I’ll wager.” He nodded slowly, remembering. “When you need her, she'll be back, don't you worry.” It was too much. Alicia took her leave of him and hurried into the house. If only she could be that little girl again – the one who hadn't a care in the world beyond her imaginary dreams. Dreams of saving the world and being brave enough to stand against evil. He’s not going to have me. Clenching her fists and straightening her spine, she dug deeper and found that the fighting spirit was still there, along with a clear choice. Bow to her fate, or make a stand? It might break her, but she would talk to her father. Make him understand. And if he didn't? Well, then she would make that choice. It would be hers alone. **** “No, more. Please…” Someone had tied a lead weight to his arm. At least that’s how it felt. Damien tried to lift it to stop Flora applying yet more lotions and ointments to his skin. It wouldn’t move. The wavering, blurred shape of his old nurse loomed over him and he squeezed his eyes closed in an effort to fend off yet another bout of vomiting. The whole night 63

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had passed in one long round of vomiting, and hurting. Of seeing and hearing strange things. Damn them all. Why didn’t they let me die? He'd been so close to Paradise, but someone, or something, had stopped him. Even as he'd strained towards the bright white light, someone had gently pulled him back. Back to the indignity that was his life. Why? And where was the angelic vision now? How foolish to think that she’d be here, waiting for him, solid and real. Someone to ease his loneliness and grow old with. Damien almost found the energy to laugh at the notion. All he'd found was Flora weeping and wailing, and pulling and poking at him. Along with a half-remembered dream, for that is surely all it had been. At last His stomach finished heaving and he flopped back against the pillows with a groan of pain. This caused a fresh flurry of activity from Flora, who did not seem to have stopped crying the whole night. Something cool and wet was pressed to his forehead. It was heaven, but everywhere else his skin burned with the fires of hell, and her lotions and potions were only making it worse. He could not, however, make her understand how much she was hurting him. When he pleaded for the laudanum, she adamantly refused him. Suicide was a sin, and here was his punishment. Damien sighed in resignation. Waves of exhaustion rolled over him and the pain gently ebbed away as he sank into sleep, thinking that perhaps he would live after all. Dying was just too painful. **** 64

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“Stupid lad. He could have ruined everything.” Evan stood at the foot of the bed, his face its usual impassive mask. “What if he'd succeeded and anyone had found out? All his goods be forfeit, that's what. And where would that leave us?” Flora sniffed and wiped at her nose with a linen square. “How can you talk that way? My poor Damien. Does he not realise that I, at least, love him?” She gave another sniff, this time unable to stop the tears pouring down her cheeks. “I've tried to be a mother to him. I've tried so hard.” When she stroked Damien's arm he flinched in his sleep. “Oh, I'm sorry, my lamb.” Bringing the cloth to her face again, she sobbed into it. “I'm so sorry that it came to this.” “And how is this your fault, exactly?” Evan shook his head and walked over to Flora, placing a hand on her shoulder. “No blame lies with you. If anyone, then blame that wretch of a father who sired him. God rot him. Look at me, Flora.” His hand moved to her chin, which he took hold of firmly, turning her face to his. “It suits me here, so just you make sure he never tries this again. The Crown will have everything if he kills himself and someone finds out. It's your job to make sure he doesn't.” Flora nodded. “I will watch him night and day, Evan. Do not worry, I will keep him safe.” Evan let go of her and walked to the door. “Never mind safe, just keep him alive.” He made to leave then he stopped and grinned wickedly. “You know what they did to suicides in the old days, don't you? Buried them at crossroads with a stake through their heart. He'd have liked that, what with everyone thinking him a vampire.” 65

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He gave a low laugh. “Get him back on the laudanum. Best way to limit his behaviour – easy to control then. Goodnight Flora.” He left the room still chuckling to himself and with Flora glaring after him. She took another look at Damien tossing and turning in restless sleep and wiped the remnants of tears from her eyes. She didn't know how much of the sleeping draught he’d taken, so dared not give him any more tonight. But tomorrow they would start it again. He'd been so much happier on it, she reasoned, and had begged her for it last night. It wouldn't be hard. Her heart was near to breaking as she regarded his angry red skin and contemplated the pain he must be experiencing. She'd been so close to losing him; it didn't bear thinking about. Tomorrow he would go back on the laudanum and they would all rest easier in their beds. **** Alicia stared in dismay at the contents of the jewel-case they’d retrieved from the safe. “Mama. Where is the chain with the locket? And my emerald bracelet?” Her mother looked up from her needlework. “Alicia, do hurry up. I am very uncomfortable having those out while your father is not here. If you’re going to polish them, then get on with it. I really would like to lock them back up again.” Taking the jewellery out for cleaning had seemed a good excuse, but it had soon become clear that there was nothing of any real value left. “You have not answered my question, Mama. Where is my bracelet?” It was by far the most expensive of Aunt Joan’s gifts and Alicia 66

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had hoped to realise a good sum from its sale. Now it was nowhere to be seen, although she was beginning to suspect, with a sinking heart, that she would never set eyes on it again. Her mother waved a hand absently. “Your father mentioned taking them to London for appraisal. He was most anxious to learn of their value.” She looked up again. “Now please hurry so we may pack everything up and put them back. We do not want them to fall into the hands of a thief, do we?” “I believe they already have. Mama.” Alicia stood, spilling what was left of her jewellery – all worthless trinkets – onto the floor. “I will not see my bracelet again, will I?” “Whatever do you mean, child?” Her mother looked at her curiously. “Now look at what you have done. Do pick them up.” “Father has sold my bracelet, and my necklace. I just know it.” Alicia waited while her mother struggled to summon up a reaction to her words. “Why Alicia, you are distracted this afternoon. Go and lie down for an hour or two. I have noticed you to be most agitated of late, when you should be rejoicing in your good fortune. The Reverend Crosbie is quite the catch. We are the talk of the village.” “I am agitated because father has stolen my jewels. He had no right to take them, Aunt Joan gave them to me. Mama. Are you listening?” Alicia regarded her mother with despair, already knowing she wasn't going to find an advocate in her. Mrs Stanton had a wonderful way of blanking out things that were too difficult to cope with, 67

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something that was happening more and more often lately. Alicia's scream of frustration was met with a small smile. “Pre-wedding nerves, I was just the same before I married your father.” “I do not have pre-wedding nerves.” Alicia balled her fists. “Because I will not be having a wedding.” Alicia folded her arms and waited. That news would surely provoke some emotion. Her mother, however, merely continued with the needle and thread, holding up the cushion cover she was working on. “It's for you, dear. I hope to finish the set before the day. Shall you be married in July as I was?” Alicia bit her lip and gave up. At least she'd said the words, even if they had gone unheeded. Now all she had to do was tackle her father with the same declaration tomorrow and hope fervently that he would hear her. With her jewels missing, her plan to run away was in tatters. Without them she had no chance of making her way to Plymouth. All hopes were now pinned on her father abandoning the habit of a lifetime, and actually listening to what she had to say. And of him having some sympathy for her plight. Or of Crosbie miraculously deciding to answer her letter. To date there’d been no indication that he’d even received it, let alone considered its contents. She hastily picked up her baubles and put some back into the jewel box. The rest she hid in her sleeve, knowing they wouldn't raise much in the way of funds, but that every penny would count from now on. When the box was locked away, she excused herself, pleading a headache. 68

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Tomorrow promised to be one of the most difficult days of her life. She needed to spend time in contemplation and in building up as much courage as she could muster. She wasn't going to be bullied by men who thought they knew better. If she didn't win the argument tomorrow, and her father had indeed sold her valuables, then leaping from the cliff was beginning to look like one of the better options. Alicia only hoped that, if it should come to that, she would indeed be up to the challenge.

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Chapter 6 I find that I am able to see, at last, through the eyes of one who appreciates what it means to be alive. Fanciful though this may seem, I believe that I may yet have a destiny to fulfil, though what it may be, I have no idea. I have promised Flora I will make no further attempts on my life, and in return she has promised not to smother me with love as she has attempted to do these past two weeks. I know that in asking this I have mortally offended her, but coming back from the dead has been a profound experience for me and I have found a strength in myself that I did not know existed. This gives me great hope for the future. Damien looked at his hands. The skin was peeling in a most dramatic fashion, although the pain was for the most part gone. When he regarded himself in the mirror he imagined that he looked like a snake shedding its skin. Most unappealing, but strangely symbolic – as if the old Damien was being stripped away and a new one emerging. He still hadn't ventured outside since that fateful day, but was fully intending to do so, and soon. Smiling to himself, he elaborated on his plan and realised, as he looked in the mirror, how different he looked when he smiled. He tied back his hair and carefully eased his arms into a well-worn linen shirt, fastening the buttons as he walked along the corridor to his father's room. Nobody ever came here. It had been left exactly as it had been on the night Mallory Lucius disappeared. He closed the door after him, not wanting Flora to catch him and ask unnecessary questions, and glanced around 70

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the room. The enormous wardrobe looked a good place to start. It was stuffed full of old-fashioned clothes; musty jackets, elaborate waistcoats and pants, but not the thing he was looking for. Emerging, he looked around once more and moved to the ornately-carved chest positioned on the far wall. Soon a pile of clothes lay scattered about him, and with a triumphant grin he pulled out his prize. His father's old greatcoat. Cut in the style of the last century, with a huge collar and cuffs that turned back, the leather coat was battered and worn to a comfortable softness. Damien unfurled it with a flourish, sneezed away the dust that billowed out of it, and slipped it over his shoulders. It was far too long for him – his father had been taller even than Evan by all accounts – and so it reached almost to the floor. Damien grinned at his reflection, turned up the collar and struck a pose. Tomorrow was the full moon and Lord Mallory Lucius of Rossendale was going to rise from his grave and take a jaunt through the village. He tried to copy the grim expression his father sported in the formal portrait, but found that he couldn't stop grinning. Slipping off the coat, he made his way back to his room wondering where Alex was. He was going to need his foster-brother’s help in this. **** Alicia waited all day for an interview with her father, only to be told he had a visitor and wouldn’t be available to see her that evening. She retired to her room in frustration, fully intending to pack her bags there and then, and just leave. She would walk to Plymouth if 71

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necessary, even if that meant leaving with only the clothes on her back. As she pulled out the large bag she’d retrieved from the spare room she realised it would be far too heavy for her to carry for any distance and was only big enough for one dress and a few smaller items of underwear. Her plan was totally impractical. How would she ever get out of the house unobserved? She peered out of the window and knew it was too high to jump, and she certainly couldn't walk down the stairs with a bulging bag. What possible excuse could she give? If only Wendy hadn’t insisted that she talk with her father before putting her plan into action. Alicia remembered her promise and sighed heavily. Wendy had said she would invite her to stay as a cover for her flight, but not before she’d made some attempt to sort this problem without resorting to such desperate means. Alicia’s jumbled thoughts were interrupted by the door opening and the appearance of her mother. Mrs Stanton stood at the door, smiling pleasantly and completely ignoring the open bag and clothes strewn about the bed. “Alicia,” she said. “Your father will see you now.” Alicia moved to hide the mess, her knees trembling suddenly. All the stored-up courage drained out of her in a rush and she couldn’t remember one word of the speech she’d been rehearsing all day. She sat on the edge of the bed, her mind reeling, knowing that this was the only chance to state her case. And that she was lucky her father had agreed to talk with her at all. “Tell him I'll be there in a moment,” she replied, willing herself to remain composed 72

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“Be quick, please, he asked that you go immediately. He is in such a foul mood tonight. We must not make him any more so. You know how he can be.” Alicia looked up in dismay. That did not bode well at all. And her mother? For a moment Alicia felt real sympathy for the tired-looking woman standing before her. When was the last time her father had done anything but bark impatient orders at his poor wife? It was little wonder Mrs. Stanton retreated into her own private world. Alicia rose and walked over to her. “I shall go at once,” she said. Then in a rare moment of connection for a kindred spirit, she embraced her mother with genuine affection. This might be her in twenty year’s time if she married Crosbie. The thought sustained her as they made their way to her father’s study. **** “Come on Alex, m'lad.” Damien extended his hand and mimicked Evan’s west-country drawl. “Got places to go, people to scare.” Alex lost the fight to stand up and flopped back down onto the straw-covered floor of the coach-house. “ ‘Ow did I let you talk me into this?” Alex complained, trying unsuccessfully to lever himself upright again. His face glowed in the flickering light of the single lamp – the only light they could risk without fear of being discovered. An empty wine bottle lay on the ground and beside it stood a decanter of brandy. Alex grabbed it and took a long swig just as Damien picked up his father’s leather coat and dropped it on his head. A loud 73

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spluttering was followed by an equally loud string of curses. “Evan and Flora don’t have a clue what we’re up to,” Damien said by way of reply. Giving Alex a way to defy his parents was a sure way to get him to do anything. Alex emerged from under the coat, grinning idiotically. “Oh yes, ‘e’s gone off down the cove, ‘asn’t ‘e. Doing ‘is private business. Can’t wait ‘til the Revenue catch up with the bastard. I want to be there to see it.” “Not so loud, Alex. We’re not supposed to know about all that. And I like it that way. Besides, this is my coach and it’s my house. If I want to go out, I can.” Alex made a dismissive, grunting sound. “Easy to be brave when ‘es not around.” “We just need to be back before he is. Now, do I look like him?” “Who, Evan?” “No, you idiot, my father. Do I look like him?” “Your father? ‘Ow should I know, I never seen ‘im.” “You’ve seen the portrait. Come on, concentrate.” Alex frowned a little, picked up the wine bottle, emptied the dregs onto his head and then shook out his hair, sending wine droplets flying. “No, nothing like.” Damien had never had much to laugh about in his life, but tonight he didn’t seem able to stop. He hauled Alex upright and helped him into the coachman’s coat and 74

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hat. They staggered towards the larger of the two coaches. “We must be back soon. With this moon, Evan won’t be out late. Are you sure you can drive this thing?” “What thing?” “The coach, you idiot. Don’t you think you ought to stop drinking if you’re going to be driving along the cliff road?” With a dismissive wave of his hand, Alex picked up one of the harnesses. “Just watch me,” he said. “You get inside and I’ll go fetch the ‘orses.” **** “Crosbie?” Alicia stared at the last person she'd expected to see tonight. She glanced over to her father in question. His left shoulder was twitching as it did when he was unusually agitated. In his hand was her letter to Crosbie. He waved it at her in an unnecessarily dramatic fashion which she supposed was rather more for Crosbie's benefit than hers, and pointed to a chair. “Sit down, and tell me – what is the meaning of this?” Alicia almost fell into the chair, her legs were trembling so badly. When she attempted to speak her father cut in. “I will not have my children embarrassing and disgracing this family by going behind my back.” He stopped for 75

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breath, glancing at Crosbie as if to gauge his reaction, then turned back to her. “You are to apologise at once.” Alicia made yet another attempt to speak, having no idea whether a voice was going to come out of her mouth when she opened it. She was quite terrified, more so by Crosbie's calm, smiling appearance than her father's rage and bluster. “I...” “At once, do you hear me?” Her father strode across the room and dropped the letter onto the marble-topped side table. “The Reverend Crosbie has been most generous in this matter, and still wishes to continue our business arrangement, but you are to apologise and retract everything you wrote. Did you not fear a scandal?” Before she could answer, Crosbie at last chose to speak. “Mr Stanton, let me talk to Alicia, I am sure that between us we can clear up this misunderstanding.” He looked over at her pointedly and back to her father. “’Tis but the folly of youth, a moment alone with her will, I am sure, put everything to rights.” “Alone?” At least father looks shocked, she observed. Perhaps Crosbie was about to reveal his true colours at last? His indecision lasted merely a few seconds. “Mr Stanton, I have been thinking about the scheme you outlined to me earlier. I think I should find it a most favourable investment.” Crosbie picked up a sheaf of papers from her father’s desk and offered them. I was thinking that 76

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you might look these over one more time, perhaps? I would value your opinion of them.” “Oh, why...yes, yes, of course.” Alicia's spirits sank to the bottom of her boots as her father accepted the papers. He glanced at them and gave a small start when Crosbie took him by the arm and ushered him to the door. “The sooner the better,” Crosbie said, the genial smile still on his lips. “I think my involvement will bring in several more interested parties.” By now her father was half way through the door. He cleared his throat and refused to catch her eye. “I’ll be in the drawing room,” he mumbled. Alicia briefly debated running after him and making a scene, but thought the better of it. Her father had made his allegiance very clear. As the door closed she took a deep breath and folded her hands in her lap to stop them trembling. Then she raised her eyes to the man who, at this moment, she hated more than anyone in the world. “So, Crosbie,” she said, her voice deceptively calm. “Where shall we begin? **** What Damien really wanted to do was stick his head out of the coach window as they sped through the village, and scream at the top of his voice. With his horribly peeling skin and blotchy face he would present quite a figure. However, he was rapidly becoming of the opinion that perhaps just sitting in the coach would be adventure 77

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enough for his first time out. In any case, the Lucius crest so prominently displayed would certainly do the job of scaring anyone who’d heard the legend. He climbed inside, feeling suddenly rather sober and wondering if this prank was such a good idea after all. The faded interior of the coach was threadbare and dusty, and the musty smell made him wrinkle up his nose. He pulled the door closed and carefully sat himself down while Alex cursed and coaxed the reluctant horses into place. Good Lord, what am I doing? Damien thought. A scene from a book he’d once read popped into his mind, and the angry crowd with flaming torches and pitchforks easily became a horde of terrified villagers all crying out for his blood. Who knew how they’d react if they thought the vampire tales were real after all? “Alex,” he cried and scrabbled at the door catch, which had mysteriously decided to stick and refuse to let him out of the coach. “I don’t think this is such a good…” Too late. Alex whipped up the horses and the decision was made for him. Damien fell back across the seat and, before he could utter another word, the coach was rattling down the long, gravelled drive. When the coach ground to a stop at the gates Damien leaned forward and pulled up the collar of his coat. Tentatively, he gazed out at the moonlit landscape with the eyes of someone who was seeing the world for the first time. **** “I no longer wish to marry you, Crosbie.” There, I’ve said it in words he can't fail to understand. “I made the reason plain in my letter.” Alicia glanced up briefly. 78

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Crosbie, perched casually on the edge of her father's desk, inspected his fingernails and waited for her to finish. Today, oddly, he appeared taller than she remembered. Older, and darker too. How had she not noticed that before? Apart from the flash of white at his throat everything about him was dark; clothes, hair, even his eyes, which glittered with a different light as he lifted his face and looked her up and down. The silence stretched between them until, quite suddenly, he rose and marched across the room. Alicia shrank back at the abruptness of his approach. He stopped short and stood silently in front of her, fingers now laced behind his back. She guessed that he was attempting to intimidate her with his manly presence, and, as she risked another quick glance at him, she was struck by the fact that, although he was still handsome, she did not now find him attractive in the least. He broke the silence with a heartfelt sigh. “I am sorry, Alicia.” Her head snapped up. “What did you say?” “I said I’m sorry.” His face looked the very picture of contrition. “I did not mean to frighten you when we met before. I… Well, let’s just say I misjudged the situation. Perhaps I was impulsive.” He leaned down so that she couldn’t avoid him. “Tell me I am forgiven, and all will be well. I found myself strangely upset by your letter. We need to put this right between us. What do you say?”

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“I say, Crosbie,” she surprised herself by managing to hold his gaze as she replied, and her voice quavered only a little, “that I would not marry you were you the last man on Earth. I am the injured party here, not you. I find you disgusting and perverted, and what you did to me...” “Tsh, being so prudish really doesn’t suit you, Alicia. You felt something when I touched you. I know you did.” “Revulsion, nothing more.” Alicia turned her face resolutely away in an attempt to indicate that the conversation was over. His hand reached out and grasped her cheek. Holding it firmly, he forced her back to him. “And you're feeling something now. Yes, blush, my little peach, you are no different from any woman. You are...” Alicia found her voice, although it was difficult to talk properly with him holding her so tightly. “Don't you dare call me Eve,” she ground out, finding from somewhere the courage to knock his hand away. He let go of her, raising the hand in a gesture of peace. “Calm down. Those passions are best kept for the bedroom.” Then he chuckled to himself. “Actually, I don’t think I misjudged you at all, Miss Alicia.” “You are wrong, Crosbie. I’m not that sort of woman, and never gave the impression of being so. Why are you doing this?” To her shame she felt her voice breaking, after being so determined not to cry. “Just like a woman to resort to tears when things don't go their way.” Crosbie considered her question for a moment. “From the first time I set eyes on you I saw a 80

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kindred spirit and wanted you. It's as simple as that.” His expression hardened, but his voice remained casual. “Oh, and I don't like having my will thwarted. The fact that you don't want me only makes me want you more.” Briefly, he looked puzzled. “It's a very strange thing. And very stimulating.” Alicia stood, almost overturning the chair in her haste. “I may only be a woman, but I’ll fight you with every fibre of my being.” “I’m scaring you.” Now his grin was truly evil. “That’s good. Come here.” “I will not.” Alicia took several hasty steps backwards. “I’ll call my father.” “And tell him what?” He matched her step for step and mimicked her voice. “Father, I let Crosbie touch me in such a manner that I shall have to marry him, for who would have me now?” “You would not say such a thing.” He was so close she could feel the heat of him. “You are a man of God, I don't understand why you behave like this.” “God works in mysterious ways, haven’t you heard?” Alicia felt the wall at her back, and before she could move away Crosbie’s hands were on her shoulders, holding her in place. She tried to shake loose. He pinned her back, dipped his head and whispered close to her ear. “Do you know what I think?” Alicia shook her head, still struggling to remove his hands. “I care nothing for what you think.” A lock of his 81

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hair brushed her cheek and a spicy smell filled her nostrils. She turned her head away. Let me go, Crosbie. This is madness.” “I think the biggest thrill for you is that your parents are but yards away and they have no clue what you are doing here. You find that arousing, don't you?” “I don’t. How can you say that?” “I wish you could see your face, Alicia. All blushes, and righteous indignation. It’s very becoming. Now listen to me. I am going to call your father back now, and you are going to straighten yourself up and act as if nothing has happened but that we have spoken and agreed to marry after all. It’s not just your pretty face. You know far too much about me now. And, of course, I also have an advantageous business arrangement riding on this. I’m used to being obeyed and I’ll not be thwarted by the likes of you.” “Damn you, Crosbie!” His face was only inches away and he held her easily. “Heavens above. Such an innocent, and such a foul mouth. I’m going to enjoy taming you, my little bird. Kiss me, Alicia.” “I will not.” “I think you will.” His mouth was hot and wet. He kissed her hard and long before pulling away with a sharp intake of breath. “My father…” Alicia dragged in a breath too and twisted in vain. Crosbie’s grip on her shoulders tightened. 82

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“…Is probably hovering just outside. Exciting, isn’t it? “Relax, Alicia,” I’m not going to hurt you. Look what you do to me.” Before she could reply he was kissing her again, this time using his tongue to part her lips. With no space between their bodies, Alicia found it impossible to push him away and instead grabbed a handful of his hair and pulled as hard as she could. With a low laugh he reached behind and covered her hand with his. “I like it when you do that,” he murmured. “You…” His tongue invaded her mouth once more and this time Alicia was well and truly beyond caring. Consequences be damned, she thought, and kicked out as hard as she could. Her knee contacted with his groin, causing him to stagger back with a cry of pain. For a moment they both stood frozen, Crosbie doubled up gasping, Alicia wide-eyed and incredulous at the ease with which she’d stopped him. The sound of breath hissing through his teeth filled the room. “Crosbie, I’m…I didn’t mean to… Are you all right?” Crosbie took in a deep breath, which he let out very slowly, and straightened. “Touché,” he said and gave her a cold smile. He walked awkwardly across the room, propped one hip rather gingerly against the marbletopped table and folded his arms. “Thank you for the enquiry, but it will take more than that to stop me. It’s a trick you only play once on a man. Remember that, Alicia.” The door was on the other side of the room. Alicia measured the distance, noticing full well that, for all his lazy nonchalance, Crosbie was watching her every move. 83

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“I’m going to fetch my father now,” she said in carefully measured tones. “And tell him that we’ve agreed to call off the engagement.” Her lips still tingled and she wiped away the ghost of his kisses with the back of her hand. Pushing away from the wall, she made for the door. “I don’t think so. We haven’t finished yet.” He was up and in front of her before she’d taken two strides. Again he held her, and again she found herself powerless to move. Instinctively, she lashed out with her foot, but he was well prepared this time. “Neither of us can afford the scandal you are about to cause. Think about it, you stupid woman. We’ve both of us taken a wrong step and now we need to see it through.” His large hand was over her mouth before she had a chance to reply. “Think before you speak,” he said, emphasising each syllable as if she were a child, or one of his wayward parishioners who was in dire need of godly advice. “Now my dear, nod if you understand.” He was mad, she decided. Completely mad. And she had no idea what he wanted her to do. Eventually she nodded and he seemed satisfied. “Good, good. Now we have some control of this situation. “This is what you are to do. You will sit in the chair over there, as you were when your father left and I will go and call him. Nod if you’ve heard me.” Alicia nodded as vigorously as his restraining hand would allow. His left hand was firmly clamped to the back of her head and his grip was solid. “Think of your parents, and that pretty little sister of yours,” he continued. “Do you really want them to be the gossip of the county?” 84

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She didn’t, of course, and he knew it. When she shook her head it was with resignation, but heartfelt all the same. His grip on her loosened. “Do you know,” he murmured. “I really cannot decide which Alicia I like the best. Your compliance is equally as exciting as your defiance. We have some exciting times ahead, my dear. Sit down and compose yourself. Your father will not tolerate us being alone for much longer.” As his hands dropped away Alicia’s mind raced through the possibilities. Risk a scandal, or quietly do as everyone wanted? Run away, or stay? Whichever way she looked at it, there seemed no sensible way out of this. Resignation to her fate was fast overtaking her until she felt Crosbie’s fingers slide smoothly around her waist to guide her to the chair. It was the final straw. With one last act of defiance she turned and shoved him hard against the marble topped-table, telling him in terms he couldn’t fail to understand that she was well able to walk by herself without his assistance. Crosbie staggered, then stumbled, and when he put out a hand to steady himself his palm skidded across the polished surface of the table. It all happened so quickly that Alicia had no time to react, or to do anything to prevent him from falling. He lost the fight for balance and the look of indignant outrage on his face turned briefly to one of surprise when his temple hit the corner of the table with a dull thud. His head bounced once and the look of surprise was quickly replaced by one of shock. His body seemed to hover in mid-air for what seemed like an eternity, his gaze locked accusingly with hers, before his eyes rolled back and he crumpled to the floor. 85

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Alicia gave a startled cry and for a moment was unable to do anything but stare with horror at the small crimson pool collecting beside his head. “Crosbie?” She swallowed hard to quell the panic. Despite his deathly pallor, he looked peaceful, almost as if he’d decided to take an impromptu nap on the floor of her father’s study. The stream of blood widened to form a grisly halo around his head, and Alicia’s legs refused to hold her upright. With a hand on her mouth, she fell to her knees and grabbed hold of the table leg to stop the room spinning. Her pale skirts greedily soaked up the blood and she found herself scrabbling frantically at the stain in a vain effort to stop it. Blood seemed to be everywhere. The still-rational part of her brain urged her to go and get help, but she was paralysed by the sight before her. I’ve killed him, she thought. He’s not breathing. How did you tell if someone was dead? She swallowed down the nausea and with a shaking hand touched his chest very lightly. Immediately she pulled back. The thought of touching a dead man was just too horrifying. Somewhere in the house a door banged, accompanied by a shout, causing her to look around in alarm. Outside the open window a bird started to sing, an absurd counterpoint of normality to the ghastly scene in front of her. Slowly she rose and backed away. Fetch help, that’s what she needed to do. She turned for the door. And then what? A wave of nausea washed over her as a picture of the gallows flashed into her mind. I’m a murderer. He’s not breathing, He must be dead. Hadn’t she prayed for a way out of this marriage? But not like this…I never meant him any harm. The thoughts flew through her mind in a frenzied jumble. 86

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She forced herself to look again. A dead man undoubtedly lay before her. More voices sounded outside the room, first her father’s, then her mother’s higher tones. The footsteps stopped outside the room and, as she jerked her head towards the door, expecting it to open at any moment, all rational thought left her. It felt as though someone else flew across the room to the open window. It was a good ten-foot drop from the back of the house, but the drop from the gallows would hurt more than this. Sliding herself onto the ledge, she pulled up her skirts and swung her legs over so they dangled , then she caught hold of the sill with her hands and twisted around. Her fingers were too slick with blood to get a proper grip. She scrabbled frantically as one, then the other, slipped she tumbled towards the ground. Alicia landed hard on her ankle, but pure terror endowed her with the energy to run. She was out of the grounds and already on the cliff road before the excruciating pain floored her. Clutching at her ankle, she tried to breathe away the nausea. She gasped for breath, for a moment thinking she might pass out. With a grim determination, she pushed herself upright and looked wildly around. Nobody was following. Had they found him yet? They were bound to realise what had happened, and now she’d compounded her guilt by running away. She would have prayed, but didn’t think God would be sympathetic to her plight. Heaven wouldn’t want her after this. With a trembling hand, she wiped away the useless tears that blurred her vision, and looked around. To one side was the wide, eerie expanse of the moors. To the other, the sheer drop to the rocks and angry sea below. The crashing waves glistened in the moonlight and the rocky outcrops looked like strange, silent figures pointing 87

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accusing fingers at her. The fires of Hell would surely be waiting for her now. As if to confirm it, a sudden noise caught her attention. Over the painful hammering of her heart a ghostly rattling sound became louder and louder and mingled in her mind with the remnants of a story she couldn’t quite place. The full moon, the clattering of hooves... A coach rounded the bend, almost glowing in the moonlight, and in a flash it fell into place. It was Lord Lucius on his way to Hell. And he was taking her with him.

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Chapter 7 By the end of their trip through the village all Damien and Alex had succeeded in doing was to scare two sheep, and wake an old drunk sleeping in a ditch. Far from being intimidated, the old man had tried to jump into the carriage, then chased it for a good many yards, declaring that Lord Lucius owed him three guineas and he bloody well wanted it back. Apart from that, the whole village had been silent and deserted. Damien peered out of the window, expecting the dirty old man to reappear at any moment, but found with some relief that they seemed to have lost him at last. They were on the cliff road, and Alex was driving far too fast for so narrow a track. From the other window Damien could see the sea, sparkling and alive as it moved in the moonlight. Every lurch of the coach felt as if they were tumbling over the edge so he closed his eyes, gripped the edge of the seat and prayed fervently for the journey to end safely back at the mansion rather than the more likely prospect of the rocks at the base of the cliff. The world was a much larger place than he ever could have imagined, and tonight had proved adventure enough for his first time out. The coach rounded yet another bend and then, with a spine-jarring jolt, slid abruptly sideways before stopping dangerously near to the cliff edge. Damien swore loudly as his head cracked against the edge of the door. “God’s blood”, he muttered and pressed a hand against his bruised forehead. This night could not end fast enough. He was no more than halfway to his feet when Alex opened the door and jumped in, pushing him to the floor again in his haste. 89

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“Alex, what the hell…” Alex hastily untangled himself and scooted back into the corner of the carriage. “A vampire. It’s a vampire. This is all your fault.” Alex covered his head with his arms and made a whimpering sound, all the while rocking back and forth. “We're going to die.” Damien looked at the cowering figure, then at the door. Something had scared Alex, and badly. He crawled over to him and tried to lever his arm from his face. “Alex, what is it? Did you say vampire?” Alex continued his terrified rocking. “Standing in the road, right in front of the coach, covered in blood.” Then he looked up at Damien. “Blood all over 'er face. We're doomed.” “Her? Alex, tell me, what did you see?” “I told you, in the road... blood…fangs…Dear God, don’t let me die… Do you know any prayers, Damien?” “I don’t think praying is going to help. Calm down Alex. It’s probably a sheep or a cow which has wandered onto the road.” Damien looked over his shoulder and reminded himself that vampires didn’t really exist, did they? “Crosses, then? “Stakes, ‘oly water?” “Don’t be ridiculous, Alex. Whatever you saw, I doubt it was a vampire. 90

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“It was. Christ, I want to go home.” “So do I. You say it was a woman?” “I think so… I don't know. She was glowing…” Alex's eyes were impossibly wide. “What are you going to do?” “Me? Come, there are two of us. We may have a better chance together if it's a thief intent on taking the coach.” “I'm not going out there. This was your idea.” Alex slid himself even farther away from the door. “Evan will kill us if we lose the coach.” “Very well. Stop babbling and I'll have a look.” Damien crawled over to the door, hampered by his long coat, and cautiously pushed it open. He didn't feel very brave, although he supposed someone had to be since Alex was such a gibbering wreck. But what on earth had frightened him so? Pushing open the door, Damien peered out. As he did so, the horses moved restlessly, causing the coach to lurch. Damien was almost pitched out onto the road. “Alex, you must take control of the horses, or we’ll end up over the cliff. Come on.” Alex shook his head. Damien leaned back and grabbed him by the sleeve. “Get the horses, and I will see to the other. Agreed?” Damien managed to get a nod out of him, but still practically had to drag Alex out of the coach. They both 91

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crept towards the horses, which were shifting restlessly. Damien motioned Alex towards them, then looked around for the ghostly apparition, or whatever it was Alex had seen. He didn't think he felt brave, but he didn't feel particularly scared, either, supposing that you first had to see a vampire to know whether you were going to be frightened or not. There was nothing to be seen. He stood up from his crouched position and touched the heel of his hand to what now felt like a small cut on his forehead. A wave of panic overtook him when he realised that he’d left the confines of the coach without a second thought, and he grabbed at the door to anchor himself. Again he looked around and eventually let out a long sigh of relief. “There's nothing here, Alex. I believe you did imagine it after all. Lets...” His voice trailed away when he realised that there was something. A figure, standing on the edge of the cliff, almost motionless, her blonde hair lifting around her, catching in the breeze. And she did, as Alex had said, have what looked like blood on her. The moonlight afforded Damien a good view as he stared at her. Alex suddenly noticed her too, and let out a cry. Damien quietened him with a wave of his hand. “Shh, Alex. You'll scare her. Can you not see how close she is to the edge? Just be quiet and hold the horses.” Alex nodded vigorously at the command and shrank back. Damien took a shaky step forward, expecting the vision to disappear in a puff of smoke at any moment. Or, even worse, to come flying at him, fangs bared, and finish him off once and for all. Whatever she was, she still didn’t seem to have noticed either him or Alex. 92

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Instead, her terrified gaze was fixed on the coach and, in particular, the Lucius coat of arms on the door. Suddenly the escapade wasn’t funny any more. Damien felt his heart sink when he saw how scared she was. Perhaps she was hurt too – where had all the blood come from? “Umm…excuse me miss…are you all right?” He felt his face reddening as he spoke, keeping his voice to a low whisper so as not to scare her further. Both of her cheeks were streaked with blood, and her hands too. He couldn’t get any nearer without letting go of the coach, which he did with great trepidation, more concerned now with her proximity to the cliff edge than with vampires. “Would you like to take my hand, miss? He held out his arm and nodded. “You’re awfully close to the edge. Take it, please.” A mere half-step would send her plunging to her death. His hand trembled as he willed her to grasp it, but she was looking at it with a puzzled expression. Then she flicked a glance back to the coach before letting it rest on his face once more. His peeling skin. He’d forgotten all about it. What a horrible site he must have made when he’d stepped down from the coach. That, combined with the Lucius legend… no wonder she looked terrified. Would she see beyond his present hideous looks and know that he was trying to help her, or was he doomed to be forever an outcast, of no use to anyone except as an object of fear? As he stood there arm outstretched, counting the moments, he knew that if she chose death rather than take his hand, then he might as well jump off the cliff with her. 93

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He took another small step and she flinched. Her foot slipped and sent a shower of small stones flying over the edge. Then she looked at him, and his heart sank at the words she uttered. She spoke calmly and sanely, and all hope that she might be seeing the man behind the monster drained out of him at her words. “Is this Hell? she said. **** The man from my dream. He's come for me. Alicia fought to swallow the panic as the man inched towards her. There was nowhere to go but with him, or over the edge. She looked at his outstretched hand, and then at his face. The raw skin gave him the appearance of a rotting corpse in the shadowy moonlight. Or so it seemed; she was quite petrified. Perhaps she'd died already? With a frown, she tried to remember when that might have happened. Tonight was such a blur. When the man spoke, his voice was soft and gentle and full of concern. Nothing how she’d imagined the evil Lord Lucius would sound. Rather than a devil come to take her to Hell. This strange-looking man in his oversized coat looked like a lost soul reaching out for Paradise. “Is this Hell? she asked and looked around, puzzled. It didn’t appear to be. She leaned over the edge, wondering if her body was lying below, battered on the rocks.

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“No, don’t look down.” The man made a small beckoning movement with his hand, motioning her towards him. Alicia slowly raised her own. “That’s right. Take my hand,” he said. “Let me help you.” Behind him, the horses snickered and Alicia saw the coach driver, looking just as terrified as she felt, standing by the moonlit coach with the large crest prominently displayed on the door. Two dragons fighting over a unicorn. Everyone knew that crest. “You’re Lord Rossendale?” She waited, hardly daring to breathe. “Yes.” A chill ran over her skin and she felt her knees wobble. My God, the legend was true. “You’ve come to take me to Hell?” “No.” The man looked puzzled for a moment, then he seemed to realise what she must be thinking. “No, I’m not him. Not a ghost. This was just a…” He looked embarrassed. “It was just a stupid prank. I’m real. Alive. Here, feel.” “Oh…” Her fingers brushed his. They felt solid enough, and it dawned on her. “You… You’re the boy who lives…” “At the mansion. Yes, I am. You’ve got to move away from the edge. Can you do that?” Warm fingers closed around hers and she felt herself being tugged forward. A look of relief crossed the man’s features when she took a step towards him. Then she remembered why she was there. I’m a murderer, she thought. An outsider now, just like him. She glanced up 95

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again. He was the boy nobody ever saw. The one locked away in the old dark house. Everyone thought he was a monster, but all she saw at that moment was the kindest man she’d ever met. It was all making sense now. Crosbie walked in the light, but hid a heart of darkness beneath the handsome exterior he presented to the world. Yet here was true kindness in someone she would not even have given a second glance to before this moment. Without having to ask, Alicia knew that she could trust the man standing before her with her life. She would go with him into his world because this one had no place for her any more. His arm reached around her when she stumbled, so she leaned gratefully against him and let him lift her up and just take her. She didn't have to ask where they were going. But she did know that once the gates closed behind her, she would never be able to leave. **** All he'd ever wanted was for someone to see him. Really see him. Even Flora, who knew him better than anyone, didn't seem to see the man he'd become. To her he'd always be the little boy she'd been so dedicated to. But this woman, in a moment, seemed to have seen right into his soul. The way she looked at him seemed to fill up all the empty spaces in him at once, and if he hadn't had any previous notions of the concept of love at first sight, his mind was full of them now. As Damien picked Alicia up, overwhelmed at the way she'd put her trust in him, he felt that had a dragon appeared at that moment and tried to wrest her away from him, he would have fought it off single-handed. It was a strange and unfamiliar feeling, and something else 96

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he had no experience of. He’d played childhood games with Alex in which he'd taken the role of the brave knight, but never had any idea it would feel like this. It was almost too much. His arms were trembling and his heart beating much too fast. The woman was lying very still against him and he wanted her to stay there forever. “Alex, quickly, open the door.” Damien had no idea that girls could be so delicate. Flora was not tall, but so sturdy that he would have had trouble in picking her up, but this girl felt like nothing at all as he waited for the coach door to be opened. Instead of opening it, however, Alex gave him a look of pure disbelief and stood in front of it, arms folded, effectively blocking his entrance. “You're not bringing 'er back with us.” “Open the door, Alex. She needs help.” Alex refused to move. “Evan will go mad, and what if she is a vampire?” He said it a little self-consciously as if he realised now how much he'd over-reacted earlier. “She's not a vampire, you idiot.” Damien stood firm. “Open the door, or get out of my way.” Evan. He wasn't going to be pleased at the thought of a stranger in the house. Too bad, he'd just have to get used to it. Evan wasn't the master there, although he behaved as if he was. This wasn't going to be easy. Alex flung open the coach door and moved reluctantly out of the way. Damien climbed the steps with a little difficulty, hampered by her skirts and his long coat. And 97

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possibly his haste to get the woman into the coach before she changed her mind about going with him. “Pretty face 'as turned your 'ead,” Alex muttered. “Evan won't let 'er stay.” “Evan will do as he's told, for once.” Damien tried to sound as if he meant it, while at the same time wondering what to do with the woman now that he had her in the coach. She felt so loose and limp in his arms, and was so silent, he thought she might have gone to sleep, or fainted. Then she moved and lifted her head. For a second Damien's heart nearly stopped. This was the moment when she realised what was happening and ran away screaming. However, she merely gave him a look of confusion, as if she'd forgotten she was being carried at all. Her eyes closed once more and she settled back against him. Since she wasn't about to let go of him, he decided to sit with her on his lap, ignoring Alex's scornful look as he slammed the coach door. He knew what Alex was thinking, because he was thinking it himself. He just couldn't help it. Of course he wanted to help, but her pretty face and vulnerability were working on him in more subtle ways that he was only just beginning to appreciate. The knight in shining armour was fast being replaced by something else. If she knew anything of men she would soon know what was happening to him, her thigh, leaning as it was against the source of his growing discomfort. Damien tried to will the feeling away, but the armful of warm woman made it impossible, and every time the coach jolted it only got worse. He closed his eyes and leaned back against the seat, desperately trying to quell the 98

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physical reaction he was having to her. Trying not to inhale her perfume, or run his fingers through her golden hair as he was so desperate to do. He was a gentleman, and true gentlemen didn't harbour lewd thoughts about innocent young women they’d just rescued. He had to suppose she was an innocent, since she wasn't showing any signs of reacting to what was happening to him. But instead of placing her on the seat opposite him as his rational mind was telling him to, he found himself pulling her closer, and when she didn't protest, he pulled her even closer still. It was a strange new feeling. He wanted to be her protector, companion and lover all at the same time. Is it like this for all men? he wondered, or was he, in his loneliness, just overreacting to being in close contact with a desirable woman for the first time? It was as if he was having to learn everything at once, and had nothing but his own instinct to tell him whether he was getting it right or not. If she didn't want him to do this, she would have struggled against it, he rationalised, and knew that, if she did, he would have to let her go. He tried to relax. Evan would probably would try to kill him when he found out about this. They didn't know anything at all about this girl, not even whether the blood was hers or not. The thought gave him pause. He loosened his hold on her a little and leaned round to look into her face. He needed to find out who she was. Why she'd been standing in the road looking so shocked and covered in blood. And why he'd been the one destined to save her. **** 99

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After all the weeks of worry and tension Alicia wanted nothing more than to turn herself over, life and soul, to this man who, right now, provided the perfect solution to her problems. What better place to hide than the Lucius mansion? A place no-one dared go near. She found herself relaxing, relishing the warmth and safety of the comfort being offered as her senses slowly returned to her. Drowsily, she leaned her cheek against the soft leather of his coat. The memory of Crosbie lying pale and still while his lifeblood poured out of him already felt as if it belonged to another story. Or perhaps a nightmare she’d once had. For now, nobody wanted anything from her, and didn't want to use her for their own ends. This man hadn't even questioned what she was doing on the cliff road, in such a state, and at this time of night. But he was shifting now, looking at her. Even with her eyes closed she knew that he needed some answers. What did she tell him? If he found out what she'd done would he still take her with him, knowing all the trouble it might cause? She now knew why he hid from the outside world. He didn't want to endure the ridicule his physical appearance would afford him. If the authorities found her hiding at the mansion this man could be found guilty by association. Or, in the very least, the carefully built up mystique surrounding him, obviously spun to keep folk at bay, would collapse. Did she want that for him? Was she that selfish? On the other hand, the spectre of the gallows sent a cold shiver down her spine every time she thought about it. It made her want to disappear from the world completely. 100

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Alicia opened her eyes and gazed at the man in the dim interior, reading the unspoken question in his face. He had a right to know, but when she tried to speak, the words wouldn't come. “What's your name?” He was still speaking in the soft, measured tone he'd used earlier, almost as if he felt she might break if he spoke any louder. But the more he knew about her, the more dangerous it would become for him. What did she tell him? “Lissa, my name is Lissa.” He thought about it for a moment. “Mine is Damien. Are you hurting?” “Only my ankle.” She felt a twinge of apprehension, knowing where the questions were leading, and hoping he wouldn't ask. “Then the blood is not yours?” “No.” How can I tell him I’m a murderer. Will he throw me out of the coach and leave me here to fend for myself? “I see.” She felt him lean back against the seat. “Would you like us to take you home?” She wasn’t sure whether he meant her home or his. “I can’t go back home,” she said. “I’d like to help you.” Damien’s fingers twitched, touching a lock of her hair which had escaped the confines of the pins. 101

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Alicia held her breath as he stroked through it, obviously contemplating what he was going to say next. He rubbed the silky strand between his fingers and looked at it thoughtfully. Alicia kept very still as his hand moved and his fingers tentatively grazed her scalp. Damien shifted, and she jumped. He wanted her – that much she’d learned from Crosbie. What am I doing? she thought. What if he’s like all men, after all, and just wants to use me as Crosbie did? The sensation of Damien’s lightly stroking fingers was not at all unpleasant, but then neither had Crosbie's been, at first. A feeling of panic began to build in her. That pleasant feeling could just as soon turn to one of fear and pain, and this thought made her sit up abruptly. Only now did she realise that Damien smelled strongly of brandy and was possibly more than a little drunk. Had she jumped from the frying pan only to land in the fire? Pushing away his hand, she slid from his lap. At that moment the coach lurched into a pothole causing her to overbalance and Damien to put out his arm to steady her. She fell into the seat opposite him and sucked in a breath at the pain in her ankle. “Don’t,” she said. “Please, I shouldn’t be doing this. I…I…” Damien moved away and pulled his coat tightly around himself, hiding his hands in the sleeves. She saw the shutters come down and the hurt on his face. “You've nothing to fear from me, Lissa.” He sounded a little puzzled that he'd had to say it after she'd shown such trust in him. When she didn’t answer he shrank back farther into the corner of the seat. “I understand,” he said tightly. “And I don’t blame you. You’ll want me to stop the coach and let you out?” 102

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“No…” Where would she go if he did? “I'll keep you safe, Lissa. And I don't want to know what happened, unless you decide to tell me. Do you still want to come with me?” The decision had been made the moment she’d allowed him to sweep her up. Disappear into his world and never leave. Infinitely preferable to facing the gallows. It quite possibly wouldn’t be as simple as that, but at that moment she had no thought beyond the need to hide.

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Chapter 8 How right he’d been in assuming that, once she came to her senses and realised who he was, she'd want to run from him. The look of disgust had been plain enough. Touching her hair had obviously been too great a liberty, although by the way she’d been holding onto him he’d genuinely thought that she wouldn’t mind. Damien huddled farther into his coat. Watching her from the safety of his side of the coach, he thought that perhaps women were slightly more complicated creatures than the books he'd read on the subject made out. They had smaller brains, so it followed they wouldn’t be as intelligent as a man. Did this also make them incapable of logical thought? It was all very confusing. He needed to tread carefully around this beguiling young woman, who had already more than captivated him. No wonder poets wrote long, angst-ridden odes to love. For the first time Damien understood some of the sentiments behind the books he'd read. It was one thing longing for the woman of your dreams, but quite another to have her so near and yet be so unattainable. It would be so easy to lose himself in hopeless love. He must guard his heart carefully. If she needed a place of safety, he would afford her one, but he must be under no illusion that she was sent as a gift to ease his loneliness, or any other such nonsense. And what of the blood? That it was not hers had come as a great relief, but if not hers, then whose? She was an enigma. Damien couldn't help a wry smile at the thought of her entering his strange world. It was certainly a place for misfits and outcasts where she'd be safe 104

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enough for now. Lissa’s appearance would affect them all, though. That he already knew. Evan would not like it. Flora would be kind to her and perhaps she would talk Evan round, but Lissa’s disappearance from the world would surely not go unnoticed. There would soon be people looking for her. It had been a strange night indeed. Damien closed his eyes and tried not to think that far ahead. Even with his eyes closed he could still see her. Hair the colour of buttercups, a rosebud of a mouth, eyes the colour of the sea on a stormy day. All the usual poetic nonsense went through his mind. He realised that all this time, in his poetry, he'd been writing a fantasy which came nowhere near to describing the real thing. He wondered what she saw when she looked at him. The monster of the legends? When he was healed, would her opinion of him change? His train of thought was interrupted by the coach slowing as Alex negotiated the entrance to the mansion and stopped to close the gates. It was good to be back home. Who would have dreamed that his first trip out would be so eventful? Lissa was safe for now. It was his job to ensure she remained so. **** Alicia had been studying her rescuer. The interior of the coach was dark and his face was cast in shadow, but she could make out that under his strange, peeling skin it was a striking one. And his hair was so white it had almost shone in the moonlight. She knew why he was sitting so silently across from her– no man enjoyed rejection. The extent of his reaction to her earlier outburst surprised her, though. 105

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His appearance must make him overly sensitive. Did he think I pushed him away because of that? She bit her lip and wanted to tell him that it wasn’t so. He’d practically disappeared into his outmoded coat and hadn't said a word to her since. When he opened his eyes, she snapped hers closed, not wanting him to think she was staring at him as if he was an attraction at a travelling show. Then the coach slowed and her stomach filled with butterflies all beating their wings at once. The Lucius legend had never really frightened her. This feeling was as much one of anticipation as of fear. Now she was here there was no choice but to stay, for where else could she go? Her main concern, Dana, was safely with Aunt Joan for the time being, thankfully away from the horror that was awaiting her father in his study. What terrible shame her actions would heap upon her family. They would have found Crosbie by now, and be out looking for her. No, don’t think about it. This was her life now, with this man who called himself Damien and the strange lad, Alex, called who ironically, thought she was a vampire, for some reason. And with whoever else lived in this dark remote place. The coach rattled to a halt. Damien rose and reached out his hand to her once more. Alicia took it without question. She wanted forgiveness for hurting his feelings, and to show her gratitude for the rescue. He stared at their joined hands with such longing that she felt her breath catch. His expression was so open 106

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and honest-looking. As if his feelings would always be on display because he'd never learned to hide them. Alicia wanted to take him in her arms and hold him as he'd held her. Would that be too forward of her? She resisted the temptation to hug him and instead limped towards him and let him help her out of the coach. With his hands under her arms, he lifted her down. “Would you like me to...,” his voice trailed away. “Please.” Alicia nodded. “I can't do this without your help.” Letting him help her would make him feel better about himself, she reasoned. Damien seemed pleased with her response and swept her up as effortlessly as he had on the cliff road. The house, with its four stone towers, stood before her, looking even more menacing close up than it had from afar. Alex had parked the coach outside the great arched doorway, above which a hideous stone face stared silently down at them. From what she could see in the moonlight the front wall and some of the windows were overhung with ivy that nobody had bothered to cut back, and beyond the outer wooden doors dried leaves, which had probably been there since last autumn, littered the entrance porch. Both Damien and Alex were involved in heated whispering, arguing about what to do with the coach. They didn’t want to alert Evan, whoever he was. How ironic, that what had undoubtedly been Damien's prison all these years would now be the source of her freedom. Equal parts relief and trepidation washed over her when Damien carried her inside. Here she could be 107

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anyone she cared to be. As they passed through the great arched doorway she mentally said goodbye to Alicia, who had always done as she was told, and became Lissa again, that little girl who'd fought so valiantly against imaginary monsters and demons. Although the house was silent and dark, Damien walked confidently through the gloom. This time, rather than simply letting him take her, Alicia felt as if she was going with him. Making the decision herself. She was very relieved it hadn't involved having to jump off a cliff after all. Damien stopped at what she assumed was a bedroom door and fumbled with the handle. It swung open, and once inside he kicked it closed, walked over to the bed and set her carefully down on it. The leather coat dropped to the floor and Damien fell to his knees before her. “May I?” he said, pointing to her feet. Alicia lifted a foot, almost in a daze now, and allowed him to remove her shoes. Now that she was safe she wanted nothing more than to lie down and go to sleep. Forget about this evening. Pretend it had happened to someone else. Something cold and wet dabbed gently over her face, then Damien was urging her back against the soft pillows. She gave in and felt herself drifting. Her last thought was that he was walking away and leaving her alone in this strange place, so she lifted an arm and called him back. She managed only one word before she fell asleep. “Stay.” **** Damien turned, stunned. He'd heard that word before, calling him back from a place he didn't yet belong. 108

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A small shiver ghosted his skin. It couldn't be. The girl in his vision had been nothing but a spectre. Lissa was warm and living. From the real world. Not from one of shadows and wraiths. Walking back to the bed, he almost expected to see her glowing like the apparition had, but to his relief she was sleeping peacefully, her chest gently rising and falling, moonlight casting shadows on her face. He resisted the urge to reach out, for fear of waking her, locking his hands firmly behind his back because he wanted to so badly. She was in his room only because all the others were closed up and musty, he told himself. And because he didn't want Flora to find her before he'd had a chance to explain her appearance. That, and the other reason. Hadn’t he been the one to rescue Lissa? She was his responsibility now and he was already starting to think of her as his. Don't get too attached. Damien took a step back. It was already a long way to being too late. The memory of her lying compliant in his arms, making him feel like a man for the first time, was one he’d never forget for as long as he lived. He vaguely thought about loosening some of her clothing. Was she comfortable sleeping in those voluminous skirts? His mother, in her portrait was dressed in the loose-flowing low-cut gowns of the Regency, which looked so much nicer. Her wardrobe still held all her gowns and he imagined that Lissa would look very good in them. Oh dear, slow down. His mind raced a mile-a-minute. There was so much he wanted to ask Lissa. He stifled a yawn. Watching her sleep made him realise how tired he 109

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was too, and the start of a headache reminded him how much he'd drunk earlier in the evening. Walking over to the washstand, he pulled the ribbon from his hair and started on the buttons of his shirt. Slipping it off, he threw it onto the floor. He dunked his head in the bowl of water, and, throwing it back, finger-combed the damp strands of hair off his face. The cold water cleared his thoughts a little and, as he dried himself, he thought he ought to put his shirt back on. Flora certainly didn’t seem to mind seeing him naked, but he suspected it wasn't done to appear so in front of genteel young ladies. Picking the shirt up, he decided to make an entry in his journal before retiring while this adventure was still fresh in his mind. He lit a candle and sat down at his desk. How could he put what had happened in words? When I say that tonight has been the best night of my life, I do not overstate the fact. It has been like coming back from the dead a second time. I thought I was alive before, but the feelings that this woman has evoked in me are so unfamiliar – both wonderful and frightening at the same time – that I can barely contain them. It is strange how a space must first be filled up before one can know how empty it was. I knew my life had little meaning but I am only now realising how little. Even if tonight is all I get of this captivating woman, it will have all been worth it. It is something I never thought to have, so every day of it will be a bonus. Listen to me. Here am I, already worrying about her leaving. She has been with me only a few hours and already were she gone I would feel such a loss. And here is something else I have learned. That when you have something, there is always the chance you will lose it, and if losing it would cause such sorrow then it is 110

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better not to grasp it too tightly. I should therefore hold back these feelings, that are in grave danger of running out of my control, and not hope for anything from this but I am helping a damsel in distress. And that knowledge will be my reward. Damien put down his pen and left the page open to dry. Leaving his shirt unbuttoned, he kicked off his boots and settled into Flora's rocking chair. Sleep would likely be impossible, since it was very difficult for him to do anything other than to think about Lissa lying there in front of him. Young women are very distracting, he thought. When they were as beautiful as this all he wanted to do was stare and forget everything else. His hand strayed to the front of his trousers as a familiar aching started. He squeezed his eyes closed and tried to conjure up an image that might make it go away, having been in varying states of arousal since she'd sat on his lap. Mercifully she hadn’t noticed. It was just another aspect of the wanting, he supposed. One, he suspected, that could make a man behave most foolishly if he didn’t keep himself under control. With a sigh Damien resigned himself to a long and uncomfortable night, but all too soon he was drifting away into a land of lurid dreams and strange fantasies. He awoke at some time in the early hours, breathing heavily and so hot that he had to go and dip his head again. Even the laudanum-induced hallucinations hadn't felt this real. He grabbed a pillow from the bed, noticing that Lissa had hardly moved at all and was still sleeping peacefully. Whatever had happened couldn’t have been so terrible after all if she was able to sleep this soundly. Then he remembered the blood.

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He threw himself into the chair and rubbed his eyes. Flora would come bustling in tomorrow morning, and the last thing he wanted was for her, or Evan, to find Lissa before he’d had a chance to explain her appearance. That would mean staying awake and finding them first. He sat up straight and began to recite poetry in his mind. At some point Lissa moved and muttered something under her breath. It was the last thing Damien remembered, for, despite his best intentions, he was asleep again within minutes. **** The next morning Flora awoke to the strange sight of the large coach parked on the drive and the horses grazing free on what had once been the front lawn. And the even more unexpected sight of a woman in Damien's bed.

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Chapter 9 Everything was different. Alicia lay half-awake, struggling to make sense of the host of unfamiliar sensations. Even with her eyes closed she knew this wasn’t home. The bed didn't smell of lavender and flowers. There was a hint of brandy and burned-out candles, and something old and slightly musty. She took a deep breath and relaxed sleepily into the pillows. It was very quiet. No birds sang, as they usually did outside her window, and there was a still heaviness to the silence, which was broken only by the sounds of someone breathing. She held own her breath, listening, and still heard it. So it was not her, and, although she'd come a long way since last night, she was strangely unafraid. She let her eyes flicker open and took in the large canopied bed, with its mound of pillows, and remembered. A man. He’d seemed nice – what was his name? And hadn’t she told him she was Lissa because she couldn’t be Alicia Stanton any more? Crosbie was dead. Alicia had killed him. Cold panic gripped her from head to toe, swiftly banishing her relaxed state. For a few seconds she struggled to breathe it away. Last night she'd truly thought she was going to Hell when the coach had appeared mysteriously and so poetically at precisely the moment it needed to. The canopy over the bed was dark, but this didn't feel like Hell. And Damien, she remembered him now, wasn't the devil. She was sure of that. But there would be a price to 113

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pay for what she’d done. In this life or the next, the devil would get his due. Not yet, she thought frantically. Please, not yet. Damien. Alicia turned her head and saw him in the chair beside the bed. He looked uncomfortable with his head cradled in his arms, his body bent awkwardly. Relaxed in sleep, he appeared much younger than she remembered. He stirred a little, as if aware of her scrutiny, and she watched him slowly wake up. It was strangely voyeuristic, as if she were privy to some secret. Did she look as confused when she woke up? It was something you never saw yourself do, she realised. Here, there was all the time in the world to just be. No duties requiring her attendance. No Mama calling her. No Dana jumping excitedly on the bed, eagerly demanding to know where she’d been. Here, in this strange place, in the still quiet of the morning, she could simply lie, pressed into the soft feather quilt, and look at him. Her saviour and unlikely champion. His hair was the strangest shade. Almost white, hanging in a wavy curtain across his face, and much longer than was the current fashion. She tilted her head a little to get a better view of his face. Last night she'd been a little scared of him, but the early morning light gave him the appearance of one who might have been badly burned. Her gaze followed the line of his body to where his shirt gaped open, and she blinked. Poor thing. His raw, red skin looked painful. Did he have to live with this every day of his life, with no hope of escape? 114

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Would he still want her here when he awoke? Was last night an impulse he was instantly going to regret? She liked this Damien who’d rescued her so gallantly, and saw in him a kindred spirit. As he moved again, she fervently hoped she could be friends with him. If it was possible to be just friends with a man. That was something outside her experience and expectations, for she’d always seen boys as annoyances because they wouldn’t take her seriously and let her join in their games, and men as potential husbands. Then she realised Damien had opened his eyes and was quietly staring at her. He frowned a little, as if puzzled by her presence, then a look of recognition and the ghost of a smile flickered across his features. When he sat up his shirt gaped open and he grabbed it closed and muttered something that sounded like an apology. He glanced at her again, a little more self-consciously this time, and hastily fastened the buttons. He ran a hand through his hair, pushing it from his face, and leaned back in the chair. “You slept well?” His voice had a sleep-roughened edge to it, pitched at a low whisper that was somehow in keeping with the intimacy of their situation. This was the first time Alicia had woken up with someone of the opposite sex, and it did cross her mind that this must be what it was like waking up with a secret lover - wickedly exciting. When she replied, she was surprised to find her voice coming out the same. “I think so. Did I disturb you?” “No.” 115

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He said it a little too hastily, which made her think she might have. After all, she'd deprived him of his bed and consigned him to an uncomfortable night in the chair. His bed. As they lapsed into silence, sharing a quiet moment, she thought that she owed this man, who'd given her sanctuary from the world, a great debt. In keeping with the sense of unreality that pervaded the moment, it was strangely fitting that she’d woken up in his bed. **** There was a woman in his bed, and it was no dream. But even though she was a mere two steps away, it might have been a thousand miles for all he could act upon it. He checked the buttons of his shirt again, feeling an unfamiliar self-consciousness at her frank scrutiny. Walking naked before Flora was one thing, but Lissa was from the outside world. She would judge him with different eyes. Now more so, since his skin was such a mess. He found himself wondering whether he looked as sleeptumbled as she did, reclining drowsily against his pillows. And whether his hair was in place. Hers was an endearing mess of tangled strands, which he desperately wanted to smooth back from her face. He didn’t, because her heavy-lidded gaze had him pinned to the spot like some love-sick fool. And even though he'd buttoned up his shirt, he almost did feel naked before her. He levered himself out of the chair, stretching out the stiffness in his arms and moved toward the washstand, his head still full of dreams that had felt so real. She 116

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looked so inviting, sleepily watching him. She was Lissa, the girl he'd rescued from God-knows-what, but the poet in him couldn't help seeing a girl with untamed hair gazing languidly at her lover. He splashed his face with water and forced his thoughts to more practical matters, such as what she was going to wear since she'd brought nothing with her. That turned into an image of her in his mother's clothes, which made things even worse. He kept his back to her while he struggled for control of feelings he didn't know what to do with. His body was telling him to go back to the bed and touch her, feel her, taste her, and that she wouldn't mind because she looked every bit as if she wanted him to. At the same time his mind was warning him against such a rash move. She would never feel safe with him if he frightened her with his clumsy approaches. He'd heard the expression perfect gentleman but had never appreciated what it entailed, until now. It felt at that moment as if he had a devil on one shoulder and an angel on the other, both giving him advice on how to behave. He gave a little laugh, knowing he was so shy that the angel would always win. Amusing, given the reputation he’d so carefully nurtured for himself. His mind went off at another tangent while he dried his face. She didn’t seem the slightest bit perturbed by the legend. Why was she not scared of him? Did she not realise that he might have had his wicked way with her by now? He might even have convinced her that she owed him that in return for giving her sanctuary. She must have known that to be a possibility when she consented to coming home with him. Perhaps she was something of a sophisticated woman, to lie so easily in a 117

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strange man's bed? Or so innocent that she was completely unaware of the effect that her behaviour was having on him. Or maybe he was simply someone who didn't inspire fear. He wasn't sure whether he liked that thought. True, he'd told her she had nothing to fear from him, but she'd seemed to know that instinctively without having to be told. “Damien, I...” He turned, hurriedly clearing his mind of the jumble of images, still wondering if she might come to him willingly one day. He never found out what she was about to say. At that moment the bedroom door opened to reveal Flora, followed by Evan. Damien looked up in alarm at this uncalled-for intrusion. Flora was standing, arms folded, and nodding towards Alicia as if showing Evan proof of something he had not believed. Evan in turn approached the bed, on which Alicia was now frozen in place, and stared at her incredulously. Damien froze too, still gripping the towel, and for a moment no-one spoke. Evan snorted and turned back to Flora. “Had to happen sooner or later, I suppose.” He leaned in closer causing Alicia to shrink back against the covers. “Looks like someone got a bit rough with you, lass. How much to keep your mouth shut?” “It's not what you think.” Damien remembered to move at last and flew across the room. He attempted to insert himself between Evan and Alicia. Evan held him off 118

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easily. Grabbing him by the arm, Evan turned him away, leaned in close and spoke in a voice of barely contained anger. “I will sort this for you, you bloody fool. Who brought her here? Alex? State she's in could cause us a lot of trouble. What the hell were you thinking?” Damien struggled to free himself, twisting to see Alicia's look of alarm. A look that asked a thousand questions which flashed through his mind one by one. This was his moment. It was no longer simply an issue of who was master and who was not. It was time to make good his promise to protect her, and time at last to stand up to Evan once and for all. “Let go of me.” Damien’s voice was surprisingly calm and commanded authority for the first time in his life. Evan hesitated for a moment, then let go of him and took a step back. With folded his arms he nodded towards Alicia, who still hadn't moved or spoken. “Who is she?” “I don't know.” Damien straightened his shirt and moved himself between Evan and Alicia. “And I don't care. I found her on the cliff road last night, and she needs a place to stay.” He lifted his chin. “Do you have a problem with that?” Evan looked from him to Alicia. “What in God’s name was she doing on the cliff road at night? And why is she covered in blood?” “It's not hers.” Damien reached behind him and caught Alicia's hand, not sure who needed the reassurance more. Evan continued with his impassive stare. 119

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“It's my house, Evan, and I say she can stay.” Evan took a deep breath and shot a glance at Flora. “Think, will you? If the blood is not hers, then whose is it? Will there not be people looking for her?” “Possibly.” Damien felt Alicia's hand tighten around his. “But surely no-one will know she's here?” “This is lunacy.” Evan let out an exasperated breath and closed his eyes. He muttered something and opened them again. “All right,” he said and stepped back. “Have it your way. After all, you are master here. We will do exactly as you say.” It was just a show. Damien heard the words. He also heard the contempt that weighed them down. He wondered if Lissa heard it too. Evan may be backing down, but if he was true to form he wouldn't let this go. “Thank you, Evan. You may go” Damien turned to Flora who had stood quietly by throughout the whole exchange, looking almost as startled as Alicia. “Lissa will need some clothes to change into. Can you see what we might have in the house?” Flora nodded and scuttled off, as if relieved to be let out of the room. Evan shot them both another contemptuous look, spun on his heels and strode away. As soon as he was out of sight Damien sagged against the edge of the bed, his knees almost giving way with the release of tension. He was aware of Alicia moving as he sat down and her hand resting gently on his shoulder.

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For a moment he simply leaned against it, his eyes closed tightly as he breathed an inward sigh of relief at having passed this test of manhood. Lissa gave his shoulder a squeeze, and he managed a tentative smile. Had he disgraced himself in front of her, he knew he never would have been able to look her in the eye again. “He is a bully, I think.” Alicia craned her head around to look at him. Damien shifted his position to face her. She had a strange way of making him feel at ease, always seeming to know the right thing to say. She’d let him carry her into the house because she knew her earlier slight had hurt him. And she was doing it now. Smoothing his ruffled feathers and helping him to re-establish his sense of self. Part of him knew it was because she still needed his help and any woman would flatter a man to get what she wanted. Another part of him desperately wanted to believe there was something more to it. “Yes, he is. But only because I let him be.” He realised that now. Evan took advantage because he had always lazily abdicated responsibility to the older man; the arrangement had suited them both. That it no longer did was sure to cause complications. Damien looked down at the hand lying in his. “You’re very perceptive,” he said. “Are all women like you?” Lissa twisted her legs around to sit next to him. “I have known bullies. You did well, Damien. It will not be so hard next time.” Next time? He looked up and caught her gaze. She was nodding encouragement. Of course there would be a next time. This single incident wouldn’t command him 121

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the respect he needed to truly be master here. He didn't relish the forthcoming battle with Evan. Lissa hadn't answered his question about other women and he didn’t press her. The only woman he was interested in was sitting right beside him. Another silence as they sat side-by-side, hands still entwined. An opportunity for contemplation and to process what had just happened. Despite her having shown great faith in his ability to look after her, he already knew that, of the two of them, she was the stronger person. If Evan had laid a hand on her she would have undoubtedly stood up for herself. Would she ever tell him what had happened to her? It was too soon to ask, although she seemed to be waiting for him to say something. “No, it will not be so hard next time,” he said. He pointed to a loose strand of her hair. “Your hair is a mess.” She laughed. A sound of genuine amusement. “You need lessons in complimenting a lady, Damien.” His hand stilled, and without looking up he said, “I know, Lissa. This is all so new to me. I need someone to teach me what to do...would…” “I have nothing to teach you.” Alicia dropped his hand abruptly and shuffled away from him. “You are kind and honest. I am wicked and deceitful.” She looked at him quickly, then away, and he was shocked by the pain he saw in her eyes. The brave face was crumbling away to reveal a young girl struggling with something he couldn’t begin to comprehend. And all 122

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the while he’d been fixated on how having her here was going to enhance his life, with hardly a thought for what she must be going through. He cursed his selfishness. “Lissa, I’m sorry,” he said. “I want to help you. Tell me what you need from me.” She gave a small sniff, which turned into a sob, and all he could do was gather her up and hold her. Convention can go to hell, he thought. And the way she held him back told him more than words ever could. He tried his best to ignore her soft weight against him, and let her cry. It was all she wanted from him at that moment. And the crying, this baring of her soul, felt strangely more intimate an act than anything they'd done so far. He held her tightly, guessing that she needed him to be solid and unwavering, and he could do that for her. Resting his chin on the top of her head, he listened to her drawing in ragged breaths as she released the dreadful burden she was carrying, and his thoughts strayed to the future. To a time when she might be healed and want to go back to the real world and leave him here all alone in the dark once more. He was already feeling the pain of saying goodbye.

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Chapter 10 Alex could do nothing to avoid the blow that floored him. Evan crossed the kitchen in what seemed like two strides, his fists raised, a look of murderous rage on his face. All Alex could do was curl into a ball and wait for him to finish. Evan hadn't even bothered to tell him he'd done wrong this time, although Alex guessed it was to do with the coach and the woman they'd brought back to the house. As he slipped in unconsciousness he hoped that one day he would have the courage to fight back and end this torment once and for all. **** Alicia cried for a long time. When all her tears had been used up she continued to shake, dry-eyed, until she was too exhausted to do anything else apart from lie limply against Damien, who continued to hold her patiently. She finally stopped, feeling empty inside, but not in a hopeless way. It was almost as if she’d needed to release everything that had built up over the last few weeks, and had now made a space inside herself that could be filled with new and better things. She came slowly back with a renewed sense of hope for the future, and lifted her head sheepishly, suddenly shy at having made such a display in front of Damien. The front of his shirt was wet and he hadn’t said a word the whole while. His quiet acceptance was touching and she felt a surge of gratitude towards him. She also felt far too comfortable to move. His heart beat steadily against her cheek and his body was warm and comforting. His 124

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arms a welcome barrier against the outside world. “Thank you,” she whispered. He shifted slightly and when he spoke, sounded genuinely surprised. “For what?” “For just letting me be.” Alicia moved a little and gazed up at his reddened face. “You've just accepted me without question. How is that?” Then she looked away and spoke very quietly. “I could be a murderer for all you know.” “I don't care.” His response was too quick, with just a hint of panic. As if he felt she might run away again. “I've already said I don't want to know. Let it go.” She contemplated him for a moment. How foolish she’d been to set so much store by outward appearances. When she looked at Damien she saw so much more than a man with a scarred face. “I think I have, to an extent.” “Then the tears have helped?” “Yes.” She raised her hand and traced the line of his cheek, feeling the slight movement of him leaning into it. “But only because you were here to catch them for me. Does that make sense to you?” Damien closed his eyes and she felt him shiver when her finger reached his lips. “Tears can make you feel so hollow inside, but when you have someone to share them with it's somehow different.” “Umm...” His eyes opened and looked at her with a slightly dazed expression. “What did you say?” 125

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“I was talking about tears - oh…” Alicia quickly dropped her hand, clasping it with her other one to avoid further temptation. “I’m so sorry,” she added quickly, “You must think me terribly forward. Did I hurt you?” “Tears?” Damien blinked several times as if to shake the expression of longing from his face. “No, no, you didn’t. Please, don’t concern yourself.” Alicia wiped her face with her sleeve, a gesture which caused Damien to move from the bed and return with his linen hand-towel. “Here,” he said, handing it to her. “Do you feel better now?” “I do, and thank you for giving me what I needed,” she replied, shooting him a sideways glance. It wasn’t like her to be so bold – or was it? Perhaps Crosbie had been right about her after all and she was nothing but a temptress at heart who could drive men to do foolish things? Damien looked confused again. “It’s my pleasure to help you, Lissa. You were giving me far more than I was giving you.” “You are a strange one, Damien. How did you get to be so wise?” “I read a lot. Would you like breakfast?” At that Alicia's stomach growled so loudly that she brought her hands to her face and blushed into them, mortified.

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Damien grinned at her. “I'll take that as a yes. Come, can you walk?” He extended his hand. She took it, allowing him to pull her up from the bed. She tested the weight on her injured ankle and took a few steps. “It doesn’t seem so bad today, I think I shall manage.” “Good.” He looked a little disappointed that she didn’t need to be carried, covering it with another smile. “When we've eaten I'll see about getting you out of those clothes. No, I didn’t mean that… I mean Flora will…” She couldn’t help smiling too. The moment the words were out of his mouth Damien blushed deeply. He swallowed and struggled for composure while she stood by and tried not to stare at him. He was so unlike any man she’d ever met. When he’d regained control and glanced sheepishly at her she grinned back to let him know that she wasn’t offended by his fauxpas. He indicated the door, looking relieved, and allowed her to lead the way even though she didn’t know where they were going. “Which way?” she asked when they were standing in the corridor. “To the left,” Damien answered. “I hope you don’t mind eating in the kitchen. We don’t stand on ceremony here.” “Not at all,” Together they walked the length of the long corridor, past numerous portraits and landscape paintings, to the grand staircase. Damien measured his step to hers as she limped along, marvelling at how well they fitted together in so short a time. But she had to 127

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wonder. Why was she being given this? Everything she’d ever wanted in a place she’d have never dreamed of looking. Such a reward, after what she'd done, did not make sense in the natural order of things, and her mind drifted back to the thoughts she'd had on waking. Whatever happiness she had out of this would certainly cost her dear. There would be a price, there always was. **** The sight of Alex slumped across the kitchen table, head in his hands, brought all her thoughts to an abrupt halt. When they approached he lifted his head, and the horror of his battered face and bloodstained shirt made her gasp out loud. Alex glared at Damien. “Look what you made 'im do. You and your stupid schemes.” He wiped at his eyes, leaving them streaked with blood, and continued talking, more to himself than to them. “I'll kill the bastard one day, I swear, I will kill him.” “Christ, Alex…” Damien blew out a breath, but made no attempt to help. Alicia stared, dumbfounded at the spectacle before her. And by the fact that Damien didn’t seem at all shocked by Alex’s appearance, almost as if this was something he’d seen many times before. “Should we not help him, Damien?” Damien raised his shoulders in a gesture of resignation. “I'll fetch Flora. She usually patches him up.” Alicia pulled her hand from Damien’s and walked over to the table to sit by Alex. “Who did this to you?” she asked 128

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him. He twisted and pushed her away. At this Damien took a step forward. Alicia stopped him with a finger on her lips. “Was it Evan?” Alex nodded miserably, then rounded on her. “And it's your fault, too. Why did you 'ave to come here and make things worse?” Alicia bit her lip and contemplated his words. The poor lad looked in such pain, and she supposed it was as much her fault as anyone's. Evan had indeed been very angry with Damien, and probably more so because Damien had stood up to him. Alex had taken the brunt of his rage, by the looks of things. “Does this happen often, Alex?” He looked at her incredulously, as if she should know the answer to that question. “Bastard always takes it out on me, never on 'im.” He pointed at Damien, who still hadn't moved or made any kind of response beyond offering to fetch Flora. Alicia picked up a linen napkin from the table and held it towards Alex. “May I clean that for you?” He favoured her with another glare and snatched the napkin, pressing it to the cut above his eye. “Leave me alone. Just get lost, will you.” Alicia wasn't going anywhere. “Damien, if you are master here, why do you allow this to happen? It is a terrible injustice, do you not see?”

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Damien's face fell at her implied criticism. He lifted a hand and let it hover in mid-air before dropping it in resignation. “He's Evan's son. I can't stop the man if he wants to discipline him.” “But this is beyond discipline. Can you not see it? Where there is injustice you must make a stand, Damien. People like Evan would rule our lives if we let them. And they justify their behaviour by telling us that it’s our fault they must behave as they do.” Warming to her subject, Alicia rose from the chair, unaware of the figure she cut in her blood-stained dress, her face blazing with passion. Damien and Alex were by now both staring at her as if she'd grown two heads. How dare Evan do this? she thought, angered beyond belief at such brutality. Luckily, she realised the folly of finding Evan there and then and telling him exactly what she thought of him. It would only earn Alex another beating, and most probably get her thrown out of the mansion to fend for herself. What she did not realise, however, was the effect her words were having on Damien, who was looking more and more stricken as she continued with her tirade. Abruptly, he turned on his heels and walked out of the kitchen, slamming the door after him. Alicia stopped in mid-sentence and stared at the door. “Why did he leave?” Alex gave a snort and dabbed at his torn lip. “You really don't know? He doesn't stand up to Evan because ‘e's afraid of 'im. We all are. How would you like to be shown up as a coward?”

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“I didn't mean that...” Alicia looked frantically towards the closed door. “Surely he didn’t think I was calling him a coward?” “What were you calling 'im then?” “Nothing... I...” Alicia didn't know what to say. The beautiful rapport she'd built up with Damien had been broken yet again. It seemed that relationships were so much easier to destroy than create. “Damien’s a bit ‘ighly–strung, you know? Trouble is, Flora tells 'im the sun shines out of his backside and ‘e believes it. Don't be too 'ard on 'im over Evan. It's just the way things are.” Alicia sat quietly absorbing Alex's words, sensing that he’d probably just made the longest speech of his life. He went back to dabbing at his lip and eye, groaning occasionally, while she thought about rushing after Damien and apologising. He’d stood up to Evan just this morning. She should remember that. “Is Flora your mother?” “Yes. She was Damien's nurse, too. We're the same age.” “And she is Evan's wife?” As she spoke, Alicia took the cloth from Alex and contined cleaning his wounds. He made no attempt to stop her this time, and she carried on with her questioning, thinking that she should find out as much as she could about this strange household of which she was now a part. It had shocked her to encounter such brutality so soon after her encounter with Crosbie, and she knew now that she must tread carefully. Even here, in this place that she had begun to 131

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think of as an idyllic sanctuary. It had its secrets too, she suspected. “So, are Evan and Flora married?” “Not as far as I know.” Alex winced when she rubbed a little too hard. “I need some water, where is the sink?” She looked around and spotted the large stone trough before Alex had a chance to answer. As she worked the pump and wrung out the cloth, she wondered how so few people managed to keep such a large house. There was no sign of any other servants, yet the rooms she'd glimpsed looked tidy enough. Poor Alex was now beginning to look decidedly worse for wear. His eyes were closing and his face swelling alarmingly. “You must go and rest,” she said when she’d finished tending to him. “You are in no state to do anything today.” He looked up at her groggily. “And who will do my chores?” “I will. And if Evan has a problem with that, tell him it was my idea. I’m quite willing to work for my keep here. I don’t expect you to wait on me.” Alex peered at her through the least swollen of his eyes and raised himself slowly from the chair. “You're going to cause trouble, aren't you?” Alicia smiled. “Possibly.” Alex nodded. “Good. You'll find 'is Lordship in the library 'aving a sulk, no doubt.” 132

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He shuffled off without saying thank you for her efforts. She hadn't really expected him to. Now she needed to find Damien and tell him she hadn't meant to make him feel inadequate. While she was wondering where the library was, Flora bustled in, her face a picture of concern. “Oh, there you are, my dear, I have been looking for you. Was that Alex I just saw leaving? Come, come, Damien has told me what happened. We must get you changed.” Alicia opened her mouth several times during Flora's speech but failed to get a word in, so she allowed herself to be led from the kitchen and taken over by the sheer force of Flora's personality. The prospect of fresh clothes was an appealing one. Sleeping in her corset had not been such a good idea as her sides were decidedly sore where the stays had rubbed her skin. It hadn’t been appropriate to take it off last night however. The thought made her blush. Corsets required a lady's maid and she could hardly have asked Damien to help her with it. Limping slowly up the grand staircase, she wondered what they might possibly have in the house that would fit her. She wasn't very tall and certainly not as stout as Flora. Her clothes would not do. Following the older woman down the long gallery Alicia tried to ignore the eyes of the portraits lining the walls, staring, almost as if they knew her terrible secret. Strange as it seemed, she’d already begun to distance herself from the memory of Crosbie’s death. Had her gown not been stained with blood she could almost believe that Crosbie’s accident was one of the lurid tales that Wendy so delighted in regaling her with. She heard Flora chattering ahead of her. 133

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“So many dresses to choose from,” she was saying. “We have gowns dating back to King Charles the Second, although I very much doubt that they will still be wearable. Damien’s mother was much the same size as you – a little taller, perhaps. Come, let’s see what we can find. Grateful for the distraction, Alicia followed Flora into one of the bedrooms. Unlike Damien’s room, which was plain in comparison, this one was grandly furnished in an ornate baroque style. An enormous mirrored wardrobe stood against one wall and a large gilt-framed portrait dominated another wall. Flora touched it lovingly as she passed. “Damien’s mother,” she said and sighed. “We miss her terribly. Wasn’t she a beauty?” She was. Alicia nodded her agreement. And so sad, she thought. There was no joy in the fine, pale features that stared out at her. “She’s been gone for so long, but sometimes it seems like only yesterday that she was there, sitting on that stool while I brushed out her hair.” Flora moved to the wardrobe and Alicia looked away from both the portrait and the stool. The sadness wasn’t only in the portrait, she realised. It filled the entire room, weighing down the very air they breathed. She scolded herself for such fanciful imaginings. Lack of sleep, that’s all this strange feeling was. Or delayed shock, perhaps? She prayed that Flora wasn’t about to present her with the gown featured in the portrait.

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**** Damien sat slumped in a chair, pretending to read a book. His eyes took little notice of the script before him, however, but were rather trained on the library door, through which he was desperately hoping Lissa would appear. He'd been foolish to walk out on her as he had, no matter how much her words had hurt him. How could he explain to her how things were? He'd taken his fair share of beatings from Evan, but as he'd grown older the focus of Evan's rage had shifted to Alex alone and Damien had been content to stand by and let that happen. Did this make him a coward? Lissa certainly seemed to think so. His heart sank at the thought. Women valued bravery in a man. He’d read that often enough. Even if Lissa was, as he suspected, capable of fighting her own battles, she at least needed to see him as an equal. The connection he’d made with this woman, who’d so unexpectedly come into his life, had been shattered, and the happiness he’d begun to feel had evaporated like rain on a summer’s day. He caught a glance of his reflection in the gilt-edged mirror which hung on the library wall and a bout of self-pity quickly overwhelmed him. How could Lissa even bear to look at him when his skin was such a mess? She’d made him forget what a horrible sight he was. He swept back his hair and grimly attempted to concentrate on his book. Has Flora had found her? he wondered two seconds later. His mind then drifted to what Lissa would look like when he next saw her. He prayed she wouldn’t appear in one 135

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of Flora's gowns, but rather that she'd be wearing one of his mother's dresses, which, he'd suggested rather hopefully to Flora, might fit her. He fervently hoped Lissa wouldn’t be too cross with him after the incident in the kitchen. She was more of a firebrand than he'd imagined under her helpless-looking female demeanour. It had taken him somewhat by surprise, and although he didn't like to admit it, it had scared him a little too. She'd mentioned that she might be a murderer, and it honestly hadn't crossed his mind until that moment that she might have done anything so terrible. Now he'd seen the passion of which she was capable, a small seed of doubt had been planted in his mind. Perhaps she had been telling the truth and was carrying a burden far heavier than he could ever imagine. He looked up at the door once more. Where was she? **** Alicia turned herself around slowly, surveying Flora's handiwork in the full-length mirror. She almost expected to see someone else, so unlike herself did she feel in this old-fashioned gown. She wore no corset, which was a blessed relief, and the cream-coloured muslin fabric was so light and gauzy it floated around her when she moved. Underneath she wore a chemise which made her feel a little more decent, but, compared to the clothes she usually wore, she felt almost naked in this Regency gown. It was cinched under her breasts with a large ribbon, and the neckline plunged so low it left nothing to the imagination. This had caused Flora to go into a frenzy of tutting. She’d delved once more into the wardrobe and 136

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produced a short jacket-like affair which would cover Alicia's blushes. The sense of freedom was incredible. Alicia moved this way and that, her hair, which Flora had brushed out for her, swinging in a heavy curtain over her shoulders. Flora watched, arms folded and a satisfied expression on her face. “I always wished Alex had been a girl. I could have dressed her up to my heart's content,” she declared. Alicia remembered the state Alex’s father had left him in and the way his mother hadn’t spared him a second glance as he’d left the kitchen. Did no-one want the poor boy? Her heart went out to him. Again she kept her opinion to herself, feeling that it wasn’t her place to comment on matters that did not concern her as yet. I’ve caused enough trouble with my outspokenness, she thought, remembering that she needed to go and find Damien. Flora was staring openly at the bloodstains on the discarded dress, quickly bundling the garment in her arms when she noticed Alicia watching her. She hadn’t commented on them at all, rather seeming so excited to have a girl to fuss over that she was willing to ignore the fact that the girl in question had arrived covered in someone else's blood. “Where will I find the library, Flora?” Flora stilled. “You are looking for Damien?” “Yes, I think he would like to see the dress. Do you not?”

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“I am sure that he would. He is a man, after all.” Flora laughed to herself and then her face turned serious. “Be nice to him, Lissa. He is somewhat sensitive and easily hurt. I love him dearly.” Alicia placed a reassuring hand on Flora's arm. “I can see that you do, and I have to tell you that I bear him nothing but profound gratitude for what he has done for me.” “And what would that be?” Flora glanced briefly at the soiled dress, then back at Alicia. Alicia looked away. “I cannot tell you. Please do not press me on it.” Flora sighed. “Very well. He told me not to ask you, but it might be easier for us all if we knew.” “No, believe me, it would not.” Alicia's heart started a slow, steady thudding that she was sure Flora could hear. She was ill at ease with all this deceitfulness, but thought that if anyone should know what she’d done it should be Damien first. She owed him that much. “The library?” For a moment Flora didn’t seem inclined to tell her, however, she eventually walked out of the room, indicating her to follow. “Turn left at the bottom of the stairs. It’s the third door. Would you like me to show you? Or, better still, would you like to rest your ankle for a while? I think it still pains you.”

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Alicia declined the offer, politely. “It does still hurt a little. I need to speak to Damien, though…” Flora leaned forward expectantly, pursing her lips when Alicia turned away. “It will be all right for me to be alone with him? “You spent the night with him.” Flora’s expression was only mildly disapproving, confirming Alicia’s suspicions that normal rules of society did not apply here. With a shrug of her shoulders, Flora waved her away. “Too late to be worrying about convention now. Go and find him. I expect he’ll be wondering where you are.” Alicia nodded and picked up her skirts. “Thank you, Flora.” “I’ll take up that hem for you tomorrow. We don’t want you tripping over and hurting that ankle again, do we?” Alicia muttered another thank you and fled the room as fast as her injured ankle would allow. Flora had kept her for some time and Alicia was beginning to worry that Damien might take her absence as a sign that she was still angry with him. Outside the library door, she took a deep breath and reached for the handle. Why so nervous all of a sudden? Her mouth felt dry and her heart was still thumping quite painfully in her chest. Surely he would accept an apology for her earlier outburst? He didn’t seem the type to bear a grudge. Or was it the thought of him seeing her in this dress that was causing such a fluttering in her chest? Every action she undertook of late seemed to be changing her into another person, and this almost more so than what she'd done to Crosbie. It was as if she'd donned a 139

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disguise that had made Alicia disappear. She'd changed her name, her clothes and her hair - there wasn't much of Alicia left at all. It didn't just make her look different. She felt different. As she thought about it, her nervousness ebbed away and she began to feel more relaxed. The softly caressing fabric of her new gown made her skin tingle. It flowed around her, loose and sensual. Was this how a lover's hand felt as he slid it slowly your skin? She opened the door just as that rather scandalous thought flitted through her mind, and it must have shown in her face, for when he saw her Damien stood abruptly and dropped the book he was reading. “Do you like it, Damien?” Alicia spread her arms and stood in front of him. It was meant as an innocent question asked purely for the purpose of ascertaining his opinion. It didn't come out that way at all. The dress seemed to have possessed her so that she pitched her voice just a little too low for so innocent an enquiry. And her hips swung as she twirled for his inspection. She knew what was happening. Knew that her eyes glittered with promise and that her lips pouted more than they should, but she couldn't stop herself. Nor did she want to. She'd known this man for less than a day, and here she was flirting with him. A man who she recognised could make her very happy, if she would only allow it. As she watched his expression turn from stunned amazement to something else, she thought that there could be nothing wrong in taking happiness when it was offered as a gift like this. Again the thought crossed her mind that she didn’t deserve this and that she was 140

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bound for Hell. She pushed it aside. So she would pay, but later. Right now there was only this. “You haven't answered my question.” She gave another wriggle which caused the gown to hug her curves as it moved. “What are you thinking?” “I’m thinking...” She saw him swallow hard, almost as if he was having trouble speaking. She nodded encouragement. “Tell me, Damien.” “I’m thinking...” He looked down. Briefly he closed his eyes before opening them again and staring at her with such need and longing that the feeling of power it gave her made her feel dizzy. “That you are the most beautiful thing I have ever laid eyes on.”

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Chapter 11 His statement seemed to hover in mid-air between them. Lissa appeared pleased with the compliment - her eyes were shining and her lips curved into a smile. However, it seemed as if she was waiting for something else. As she stood expectantly before him he wondered what more he could possibly add that would better express his feelings. She was simply, the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. Limited though his experience of beauty was, he couldn't imagine anything surpassing this. Even if she hadn't had hair the colour of ripe corn, and eyes so large he could easily drown in them, and lips that were so inviting it was driving him mad wondering what they'd taste like, he would have still found her beautiful. His statement hadn't come solely from an appreciation of what he could see on the outside, although that was undoubtedly very nice to behold. The dress fitted her perfectly, except that it was a little too long. The jacket gaped open, affording him a tantalising view of her cleavage, leaving his mind frantically scrabbling to fill in the rest of the picture. Beneath the hem he glimpsed ivory satin slippers. All these things he could appreciate as any man would. Here, though, there was something else. Something other men would never see because only he knew what it was. The loosened hair made her look much younger, giving her a certain innocence that hadn't been there when she’d been wearing the bloodstained dress. And that in turn made him feel more her equal. More worthy of 142

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being her protector. At the same time, her smile and the way she moved spoke to him more eloquently than any words could. Damien never wanted her to give any other man the look she was giving him now. She'd said Do you like it? But he'd heard Do you find me desirable? And Do you want me, Damien? She was flirting with him, drawing him in, and he was mesmerised by her. He'd taken a step before he realised that if he kept walking there would be consequences. What would he do when he got to her? He knew what he wanted to do, and that it would be most improper. He was painfully mindful that he shouldn't take advantage of this woman he'd sworn to protect. Stooping, he retrieved his book from the floor and held it in front of him. The need for relief from these physical feelings was becoming more urgent every time he looked at Lissa. Still she stood before him, the smile growing more enigmatic, almost as if she realised what was going through his mind. Come here, she said, although her lips didn't move – only her shoulders as she twisted them coyly, her hands folded in front of her. Where did women learn all these things? Was it just something they naturally knew, or was it something that happened when they were in the company of that special person? He thought that perhaps he should be doing something other than staring at her like the idiot he must undoubtedly look, but he couldn't for the life of him think what. Eventually she took pity on him and gave a small laugh. “I take it you approve?” She gave another wriggle and moved towards him, her expression softening. “Are you all right, Damien? You look so serious.”

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“No...yes...it's just that, that...the dress, it’s lovely.” He turned to the bookcase and replaced the book on a shelf. When he spoke it was no more than a whisper. “Are you still angry with me?” “No, of course not.” She was at his side, a hand on his arm, her face raised to his. “Look at me, Damien. I spoke out of turn in the kitchen, about things I have no understanding of. It was an injustice, but it was not your fault and I was wrong to blame you for it.” “No, you were not. I’ve stood by all this time and let Evan beat Alex because that meant he left me alone. What does that make me?” Alicia sighed. “Damien, will you sit with me?” She pointed to the small sofa in front of the library fireplace, and he let her lead him there and sit him down beside her. Keeping hold of his hand, she curled up her legs and made herself comfortable. She contemplated his hand for a moment. “I promised Alex I would do his chores.” Damien started to protest at this. She was undoubtedly a lady, and ladies didn't do chores. She silenced him with a raised hand. “No, I will earn my keep, but there is something else we need to do if I’m to stay here.” Damien held his breath. For a moment he thought she was going to tell him what had happened to her, and he really wasn't ready to know. He wanted her to save it for a time when he was so besotted with her that anything she told him would make no difference to how he felt. 144

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“Don't tell me, Lissa.” He turned her hand over, contemplating it as she’d done to his. “I'm not ready to know.” She nodded at this, turning her face away momentarily. “I can't speak of it yet, although I do not doubt that you, of all people, would understand. Tell me about yourself. I don't want to upset you again as I did in the kitchen. Why do you have so little contact with the outside world?” She should know, he thought. If the promise he'd seen in her eyes was real she needed to know it all. She hadn't run from the sight of him, but a life with him would never be a normal one. No sunlit country walks with his lady-love. He checked himself - his mind was making huge leaps to the future. Where he'd thought solely of love and physical release, now he thought of the practical aspects of the relationship his mind was already having with this woman. Would it be fair to ask it of her? She seemed so much a creature of light, even though she'd chosen this for now. He reined in his thoughts, feeling that he'd already run too far ahead of himself, took a deep breath and prepared to tell her everything. **** For a moment Damien's expression was so grim that Alicia feared the worse. What on earth was he about to tell her? A disturbing thought crossed her mind. What if the vampire legend was actually true and he was about to confirm all the tales people told about this place? She dismissed it at once. Then she found herself panicking that he might have something terribly wrong with him and was about to die of it, and she would have to watch 145

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him do so. She already couldn't bear that. A small knot of fear tightened in her stomach as she waited for him to speak. “I can't go out in the sun,” he said, after a few moments of silence. “My skin, it burns very easily and the sunshine makes me feel unwell. I was born this way and that's why I never go out during the day.” His face, which had been very tense, relaxed somewhat when he finished talking, as if he was relieved to be able to tell someone about this at last. Alicia too, felt the relief flow through her as his words registered. This wasn’t nearly as bad as had she’d feared. “Oh, I see,” she replied. “And your skin is always like this? Is that why you hide from the world?” “No.” He looked a little embarrassed and dropped his gaze. “I did something foolish. It will heal. And when I found you - that was my first trip beyond these walls” “You poor thing. How lonely you must have been.” She couldn't begin to comprehend what his life must have been like, trapped in this house. “Could you not have covered yourself up, perhaps worn a hat?” His eyes widened, as if it was the first time he’d ever contemplated so simple a solution to his dilemma. He followed with a small laugh. “It isn't that simple, Lissa. I wish it were. Flora was so terrified I might burst into flames, or die on the spot, that she never let me out. After a while this just became a way of life. Being outside, open spaces - they make me rather nervous.” “And the vampire legend? How did that come about?” 146

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“It goes back a long way. There have always been legends associated with this family. It just suited my father and Evan to keep them alive.” “And you also?” His hand tensed, and she felt him pull back slightly. “It gives me a status I never could have hoped to earn, and it keeps people away. I couldn't bear them thinking me a freak of nature.” “Oh, Damien, who would think that? You can’t help what you are.” But even as she pulled him back to her and said the words, she knew he was right. There were people enough who would have laughed and stared, and ridiculed, all because they didn’t understand. “You were out last night. What were you doing?” “Rescuing you, Lissa. Is that your real name?” It was Alicia's turn to pull away. “I think I'd better go and start Alex's chores. The poor lad is in enough trouble as it is.” She twisted her legs to stand up. Damien tightened his grip on her hand. “Don't run away from me, Lissa, I'm sorry I asked that. Let me help with the chores. Your ankle is still paining you, I think.” He looked so appealing when he smiled. Had he more experience of women and the world there was no doubt he would have put that smile to devastating effect, leaving a swathe of broken hearts in his wake. Damien playing the rake? The thought made Alicia smile in return. 147

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He stood and pulled her up with him, his expression having changed to a rather mystified one at her obvious amusement. Lissa felt herself warming inside at this easy companionship. When he opened the library door she linked arms with him and let him help her along the corridor to the kitchen. It obviously pleased him to help her and she wanted to do that as much as she wanted to forget that Crosbie had ever existed. Damien gave her another quizzical look at the kitchen door. He opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again when they were met by the sight of Flora kneading dough at one end of the long kitchen table. She beckoned them in. “Is no one breakfasting this morning? Alex has disappeared – and do not give me that face, Damien.” Flora wiped her floury hands on her apron then moved over to a large pot of what looked like porridge and began stirring it vigorously. “Lissa, perhaps you can persuade him to eat something. Some days I quite despair. You can see that he is far too thin. Just look at him. You must agree with me.” Alicia bit back a giggle at the look on Damien's face. He was a little on the thin side, but nicely shaped nevertheless. At least she thought so. Flora obviously looked at him with a mother's eyes. Flora waved the wooden spoon at him. Damien took a step back. “Don't you dare leave this kitchen until you've eaten, young man,” she declared. “I don't care how much wine you took last night.” Turning back to her pot, she continued stirring while Alicia watched Damien attempt to sidle back out of the door. 148

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“Lissa, make him sit down, and do so yourself. I hope you like porridge.” Flora spoke without turning around. This was obviously familiar territory. Damien raised his eyes in resignation, sighed and indicated a chair. “She'll nag us to death if we don't.” Flora served them with huge bowls of sticky porridge covered with clotted cream and honey. Alicia had to admit it smelled very good, and she was extremely hungry. Picking up her spoon she gazed expectantly at Damien, waiting for him to start. He didn't seem about to give in, however. After a moment of staring at the bowl with a pained expression, he pushed it away. “I have a headache.” He scraped back his chair, and pointed to Lissa's dish. “Carry on, please. You must be hungry.” Flora raised the spoon again. “Please join me, Damien.” Lissa gave him what she hoped was an appealing look. “I would feel uncomfortable eating alone.” She looked at Flora, who gave her a nod of approval, and then back to Damien who was beginning to look very put upon. As if it had just dawned on him that having two women in the house also meant twice the amount of nagging he was going to be subjected to. “Very well,” he grumbled, pulling his chair back in. “You know I don't like porridge.” Lissa was, by now, finding it very hard not to burst into laughter at the exchange. Poor Damien. To be shown up 149

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so, in front of a young lady he was so obviously trying to impress. She hoped he wouldn’t hold it against her for taking Flora’s side. She needed to put herself on Flora's good side if she was going to stay at the mansion. Flora resumed her kneading at the end of the vast kitchen table while Damien stirred his porridge, spooning it occasionally and letting it drop back into the plate without actually putting any of it in his mouth. Alicia, on the other hand, was ravenous and had almost finished her plateful when she remembered the chores she’d promised to do. “Flora, I’ve promised to do Alex's chores today. What does he usually do?” “You? Alex's chores?” Flora placed the dough into a large bowl. “Whatever do you mean?” she said carrying the bowl over to the range to keep warm. “Yes. Tell her, Flora.” Damien smiled sweetly. “She is our guest and guests don't do chores.” “But Alex is in no fit state. Who will do them if he can’t, and you will not let me?” Alicia replied. “I suppose that only leaves me.” The loud snort of laughter that came from Flora made Damien jump visibly. “What is it now? he said, his voice full of indignation. “I am perfectly capable of doing chores. Just because I haven’t been so inclined in the past, doesn't mean I can't.” Flora shook her head. “I would not trust you with any chores. If you’re not going to eat anything, then take yourself off for a while. I would like to talk with Lissa 150

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about women's matters. Fashion and such. “Go on, shoo,” she said, flapping her floury hands at him. “Would you mind, Lissa? When you live with a household of men, you miss such conversation.” “I would be happy to, Flora.” Lissa gathered up the dishes and walked over to the sink. Damien didn't look too pleased at being sent away, but this would be a good opportunity to find out a little more about this strange household. “Perhaps you would show me the house later?” This she addressed to Damien. It would give him an excuse to fetch her in a short while. Much as she wanted to talk with Flora, she had a feeling that Flora could gossip for hours, given the opportunity, and she didn’t want to be stuck with her all morning. Damien reluctantly left the kitchen, and Flora fetched a large bowl of unshelled peas which she placed on the table. “Perhaps you could help me with these while we talk?” she said with an expectant smile. “I do so wish Alex had been a girl. Now, tell me what everyone in society is wearing these days.” **** Damien took himself off to the music room, feeling pleased that he hadn't had to eat any of Flora's awful porridge. Years of being forced to eat the stuff had given him a real aversion to it, especially since his stomach was feeling rather sensitive from last night’s overindulgence of wine and brandy. On the other hand, he was feeling rather peeved with Flora for showing him up so, and for stealing Lissa away from him.

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Usually he could lose himself at the piano, but today it was impossible. No matter how hard he tried, his thoughts drifted back to what a vision Lissa had looked in the dress, and to the simple fact that she was in the house at all. Now that she was out of his sight he found himself wondering if he'd dreamed her, and he wanted to sneak back to the kitchen and check that he hadn't just imagined it all. Evan too weighed heavily on his mind. Best watch the man carefully from now on, he thought. He wasn’t the type to let things rest. Damien’s fingers missed the notes yet again so he gave up. Damnation, but this was hard. Lissa’s appearance at the mansion was like his every fantasy come true and, the more he thought about her, the more tightly wound he became. There was only one thing to do to relieve these feelings, or heaven knew what kind of fool he was going to make of himself the next time he saw her. He made his way to the library, chose two books from his father's special collection, then sneaked along to the attic stairs. First a little physical relief, then he could safely go and rescue Lissa from Flora. •

*** • Flora was most insistent that Alicia tell her everything about fashions, The Court and The Season, even though she had no real knowledge of what was most current in England. Flora seemed so starved for gossip that no detail was too trivial for her. She sat wide-eyed, shelling peas and nodding, repeating “You don't say?” over and over again as Alicia tried to think of anything that she might find amusing. After three cups of tea, Flora's 152

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enthusiasm showed no sign of waning, and Lissa found her thoughts drifting to Damien. Why hadn't he rescued her? She’d given him permission to do so. Perhaps he wasn't skilled enough at conversation to have picked it up? And what possible excuse could she give to bow herself out of this one? An involuntary yawn escaped her. Flora put down her peas. “You poor girl. Here am I prattling on while you look quite exhausted.” “Please do not think me rude.” Alicia gave another, slightly more polite, yawn and patted her mouth. “I had such a late night that I fear I am, as you say, exhausted.” “Then you must lie down for an hour or so.” Flora hauled herself out of her chair and smoothed down her apron. “Now, which room shall we put you in? There are so many, but they are mostly closed up, and the bed linens will need changing. Come, come, my dear. We will soon sort it.” Alicia followed her feeling a sudden sympathy for Damien. Flora made quite a ferocious mother-hen. Upstairs, Flora thought for a moment then led the way along the picture gallery, past numerous doors, one of which Alicia recognised as Damien's. She stopped two doors from his bedroom and turned to Alicia. “Shall we put you in here?” Without waiting for an answer, she swung open the door with a flourish and held up an arm. “What do you think? They say at least two kings have slept in this room.”

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It was magnificent. Alicia stepped inside, taking in the opulent furnishings and the huge canopied bed, all a little faded now but speaking eloquently of past wealth and grandeur. The ceiling was decorated with cavorting cherubs, and the walls covered in a pale gold fabric. A heavy gilt mirror hung on one wall and there were double doors leading onto what looked to be a balcony. Alicia had never seen anything so grand. Even travelled as she was, she’d never stayed anywhere like this. Flora chuckled at her look of amazement. “Damien should sleep here. After all,. he is a lord, but, no, he has never cared for it. Prefers that gloomy room of his. And such a mess it is, too...” Alicia yawned again, stopping Flora in mid-sentence. Flora’s expression softened. “I am so sorry. Here am I prattling again. I am just so excited to have you here, my dear. Now, let us see what state the quilt is in.” She made a big show of beating the quilt before pronouncing herself satisfied. “It will do for now. I will make sure all the linens are changed before tonight.” Flora drew the heavy curtains, throwing the room into shade. Alicia perched on the high bed and slipped off her shoes. “Thank you Flora,” she said. “You are most kind. Damien is indeed lucky to have you.” “He is such a sweet boy.” Flora plumped the pillows, causing a cloud of dust to arise. “But then I think you have noticed that already, have you not?” Her manner was conversational, almost as if they were discussing the weather. However, Alicia heard the deeper meaning behind the question. 154

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“As you say, a sweet boy. And most gentlemanly.” Alicia lay down, thinking how much more comfortable this dress would be to sleep in than the one she’d worn last night. It almost felt like a nightgown. “Well, you have a little rest and I will call you when luncheon is ready. I hope you do not mind that we are an informal household and most meals are taken in the kitchen. Although, with you here, perhaps Damien will be more inclined to use the dining room. I cannot remember the last time the table was set.” Alicia closed her eyes, deciding not to continue the conversation in the hope that Flora would leave her alone. She felt the woman watching her for a few moments, before she at last took the hint and tiptoed out of the room, closing the door behind her. Alicia lay still for a good few minutes until Flora was out of earshot. When she was sure, she sat up, smoothed back her hair and swung her legs over the side of the bed. The corridor looked deserted when she peered carefully round the heavy door. She stopped to pull on her slippers then ran to Damien’s room, knocked softly on the door and waited. No answer came. She knocked again and listened. No sound at all. Alicia glanced up and down the corridor. The house was huge. Damien could be anywhere. Carefully she turned the doorknob and opened the door, just a crack, to see if he was perhaps inside and hadn’t heard her for some reason. The room was empty, and still as they’d left it this morning. Curiosity got the best of her. There was something that she wanted to see now that she’d determined the room to be unoccupied - what looked like a journal left open on Damien’s writing desk. 155

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She had a vague recollection of him writing at the desk last night, and couldn't resist having a peek. Would it hurt to take a quick look at a few pages? Perhaps it would give her more insight into his character? Damien may not have had much interaction with the outside world, but he didn’t appear a simpleton, by any means. In fact she suspected he was quite a complex person. Since she'd met him he had been in turn a knight in shining armour, shy and inexperienced, and a petulant and defiant little boy. She ran her finger over the beautiful, copper-plate script. Her writing wasn’t nearly as polished as this, and she smiled sadly at the sentiments he expressed. He’s wrong, she thought. I will try to ease his loneliness. Then she turned back a few pages and her brow furrowed at his most recent entries. He’d wanted to die? That might account for his burned skin. Oh dear, she shouldn’t be reading this - these things were indeed private. She quickly set the page back to its original position and slipped out of the room, disturbed by what she'd read, and fervently wishing now that she’d avoided the temptation. These were things Damien needed to tell her himself, when he was ready to do so. In her haste to get back to The King’s Room she turned the wrong way and found herself at the end of the corridor in a part of the house she’d not yet seen. A door, slightly ajar, concealed a wooden staircase that looked as if it might lead to attic rooms. The expression curiosity killed the cat went through her mind as she pushed the door wide. No, she thought, this was not like reading the journal. What harm would come from peeking into a few bedrooms? The view from the second floor would be magnificent. 156

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As she climbed, she heard the strangest of sounds. She stopped and tilted her head to listen better. Gasping and moaning - it seemed to be coming from one of the bedrooms above. A chill ran down her spine. A ghost? A house this old must have at least one. She peered cautiously around the last turn of the stairs and was faced with yet another corridor. Nearer now, it started to sound more like someone in pain than a spirit. Alex, perhaps? Was this where he slept? Would it be proper to go and enquire after him? She had after all tended to him this morning, and it did sound as if he was in agony. She stood outside the door, a hand poised to knock. Perhaps she should, he’d taken a terrible beating, part of which she was responsible for. When she rapped lightly on the door, to her surprise the sound stopped. She held her breath, and had the distinct feeling that the person on the other side of the door was doing the same. And then she thought that Alex had collapsed, or something worse, and perhaps she ought to go in and see, so she cautiously opened the door and peered in. Damien was the last person she expected to see. He was half-lying on the bed, and sat up abruptly when he saw her, his eyes wide and startled. An open book lay in his lap and for a moment they stared at each other as if it was the first time they’d ever met. Alicia shook herself out of her daze, pleased to have found him, but thinking it most strange that he’d come up here to read. Why was he not in the library? Arranging her features, she stepped into the room, wondering why he was looking so surprised to see her.

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“What are you doing up here?” she asked looking around. The room was sparsely furnished, as if it might have been servant's quarters at one time. He still hadn't answered her. In fact he seemed frozen in place, the book still clutched against his lap. “Is everything all right, Damien?” Not surprised, she thought. He looks shocked. But, why? What on earth had he been doing that warranted hiding up here?

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Chapter 12 “I was practising my singing.” “Your singing? Here?” Alicia looked pointedly around the room. “Do you not have a music room for that?” Damien planted his feet on the floor, attempting to assume a casual air by leaning one arm on the bed. He could do nothing to hide the book, the title of which was in full view, but it at least hid the fact that his trousers were unbuttoned. His mind grappled hastily for a plausible explanation. Alicia perched on the edge of the bed and leaned towards him. Pointing to the book, she said, “Let me see. I sing too. Perhaps we could perform a duet some time? You cannot get much in the way of entertainment here.” “A duet?” His mind raced on. When she leaned towards him he was treated to a wonderful view of her cleavage, which, unfortunately rekindled his rapidly dampening ardour. He desperately wished he'd chosen a bigger book. “Oh, you wouldn't want to sing with me. I have a terrible voice,” he said. “Which is…why I hide up here. I don’t want to scare anyone, you see.” “Come now, it can't be that bad.” Alicia reached out a hand. “Let me see. Perhaps we can surprise Flora with a song?”

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“Oh no,I don’t think so. It's extremely hard. The book…I mean the song… very difficult. In Greek, actually.” A short laugh escaped him. “Is it hot in here?” “Yes it is, and I read a little Greek. Come, don't be shy.” “Women reading Greek?” Another laugh, slightly more hysterical this time. “Who'd have thought it? Whatever next?” “Oh, Damien, don't disappoint me. You're not one of those men who think women aren’t capable of learning such things, are you? Give me the book and I will prove to you that we are every bit as clever as men if given the chance.” She looked at him curiously. “How did you come to learn Greek?” “Evan. He's not as stupid as he makes out, you know. Quite an educated man under that gruff exterior.” “Oh.” Another small silence as she took that in, then she frowned. “Wait, that is not Greek.” Damien suddenly noticed her tilted head and narrowed eyes. “Ow, my leg!” “What is it?” Alicia straightened, eyes wide now, with alarm. “A leg cramp.” He waved her away and clutched at his thigh. “Please, don’t concern yourself. It will pass.” “Oh dear. You must rub it vigorously. That will help.” “Yes, of course.” 160

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“Well?” Alicia raised a hand, almost as if she was about to do it for him. “Yes, yes, it’s feeling much better now. I…” “Alex!” Footsteps sounded on the wooden stairs and Damien looked at the door in alarm. Could this get any worse? What on earth would Flora think to find him in this state and alone with Lissa? “Alex, are you up there?” “She mustn't find us here,” Damien whispered to an equally alarmed-looking Alicia. “It doesn't look good.” Alicia nodded and whispered back. “I agree, I’m supposed to be in bed.” “In bed? Why?” “To sleep. I told Flora I was tired in order to get away from her. Why didn't you rescue me?” “Er, I had to practise my singing.” Alicia's frown told him that he wasn’t being very convincing. “The eaves cupboard,” he said. “You could hide in there.” “Yes. But you must close the door behind me.” “I will. Hurry.” Damien manoeuvred himself upright, and complete with book, followed her across the room. Alicia ducked her head into the cupboard and stopped for a moment. “Wait,” she said. “The Amorous Adventures of...Damien, that is not Greek…” 161

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“In you go.” Damien gave her a push and she disappeared into the cupboard with a squeal. “Sorry about that,” he whispered through the door while hastily tucking in his shirt and buttoning up his trousers. The incriminating book he slid under the mattress with its companion which he'd hidden earlier. Flora entered the room to find him leaning against the windowsill, contemplating the distant sea-view. “Oh, it's you, Damien. I thought I heard Alex. Is he here?” Flora glanced about. “Who were you talking to?” He turned. “Why, Flora. How nice to see you. It's just me, talking to myself. Umm…I was reciting poetry.” Flora frowned and Damien wished he was more practised at lying. Obviously a skill he needed to cultivate. “You might have heard me singing, too.” “Whatever are you talking about? Now I need to find Alex. He has done nothing today, the lazy good-fornothing.” “We sent him to lie down. Evan beat him badly. He's in no fit state to do chores.” “I wish he wouldn’t provoke his father so. Now who will do the chores? And come away from the window. Damien. Can you not see how sunny it is?” “I've already said I'll do them.” Damien moved from the window, hoping Lissa wouldn't sneeze or make any noise. “Just tell me what you need.”

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Flora turned to leave. “Don't be ridiculous, Damien. A lord cannot be seen doing chores in front of our guest. And besides, I need some wood for the range. You know you cannot do that.” “As you keep reminding me.” Damien turned back to the window and rested his forehead against the stone mullion. It didn’t get any easier to bear, even though by now he should be used to being excluded from simple tasks like collecting wood. “Now then, Damien, no sulking. I will get Evan to do it, although he is in as foul a mood as I've ever seen him. He is not pleased about Lissa.” “He is to leave her alone.” Damien crossed the room and opened the door for Flora. “Come, I will help you find Alex. I think he may need some of the laudanum. He was in a very bad way when we left him.” This he said a little louder for Alicia’s benefit, hoping fervently that she would hear, and let herself out of the cupboard after they’d gone. **** Alicia heard his message, and had also worked out, to her great amusement, the title of the book. The Amorous Adventures of Miss Abigail. No wonder Damien had been hiding up here alone, and had looked so embarrassed. No man would want to be caught reading a romance. She waited until the footsteps faded then crept out of the cupboard, stretching to relieve the stiffness of having been bent almost double. The book caught her eye immediately, its corner poking out from under the mattress. With a grin, she lifted the edge and found not 163

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one book but two. Drawing them out, she read the title of the second. Ladies' Fashions Through the Ages. A man who was interested in both romance and ladies' fashions? Goodness - a very rare creature indeed. Now she understood his panic at being found in possession of such reading material. Hardly masculine topics. She tucked the books under her arm, hoping that he wouldn't mind her borrowing them. Fashion was such an interesting topic. When she'd finished with them she'd put them back here and nothing need ever be said. Except that perhaps she might discreetly start a conversation with him on the topics and see where it led. He may be glad of someone with whom to indulge his interest. And then there was that duet. Already they had so much in common. She made her way down the stairs, shutting the attic door behind her and looking up and down the corridor to determine which way her room was. Right or left? She couldn’t quite remember, and didn't see Evan until her face made contact with his hard chest. She would have stumbled had he not caught her by the shoulder and righted her. Holding her away from him at arm's length, he regarded her long and hard. Alicia could do no more than stare back at him like a startled rabbit. “Careful, miss. Don't want to go hurting yourself.” He let go of her and she took a step back, the books clutched to her chest. He was so tall, she had to tilt her head back in order to look into his face. What she saw there drove all thoughts of bravado and defiance out of her mind. No wonder they were all scared of this man. 164

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Behind his impassive mask there lurked something that made a shiver move right through her. Others might have missed it. and seen only a bully or perhaps merely a servant who took advantage of his position and sometimes acted beyond his station. But Crosbie had taught her that evil could exist in the most unlikely of places, and she was learning to be on her guard. Evan wasn't merely a thug. The way he held himself spoke of supreme self-confidence, and his deference was too studied for her not to catch the underlying mockery of his tone. He had undoubtedly been a handsome man at one time, although his features were now marred by age and several unbecoming scars. Everything about him seemed oversized, right down to the large hand that had gripped her shoulder. Alicia had to wonder how willing a participant Flora had been in the liaison that had produced Alex. Evan looked perfectly capable of taking what he wanted should he be so inclined. Intelligence and cunning glittered in the eyes that regarded her, just as Damien had warned, and it was almost as if Evan knew she could see it. The corner of his mouth twitched as he looked her up and down. “Want to watch those stairs, miss. Steep, they are. Wouldn't want any accidents, would we?” Alicia could only nod. What on earth did he mean? Was it a veiled threat? When she moved he stepped into her path and blocked her escape. “About the master. He's - how can I say this? A bit wrong in the head. We don't just keep him locked up here because of the sun.” Evan paused for a moment as 165

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if he wanted to see the reaction his words were having on her. She tried to keep her face as impassive as his, but her shocked reaction to his words must have been apparent. “He's unpredictable, like his father, so I'd be careful if I were you.” Again there was that small, mocking smile as he stepped out of her way. “Just thought I'd warn you. Good day, miss.” Without waiting for an answer, he strode away towards the grand staircase, leaving her frozen in place to digest his words. She didn't believe them for one moment. She really didn't, and told herself this over and over again when she finally managed to move and make her way back to the King’s Room. The words remained, echoing in her mind. Damien appeared very much the innocent - after all. he was interested in fashion and romance - and had shown her nothing but kindness since her arrival. But he did seem overly sensitive, as Flora had warned, and his behaviour in the attic had been strange, to say the least. Reputations such as the Lucius legend didn't just spring from nothing. Where there was smoke, there was usually fire. Alicia opened the large wardrobe and hid the books under a pile of clothes, having suddenly lost all interest in reading. She lay down on the bed, her mind a jumble of contradictory thoughts. What did she know about Damien really? They were both fugitives from the outside world. Kindred spirits brought together - for what? It was hard to believe she’d ended up in this strange place for no reason other than chance. That she’d made such a connection with him in so short a time, only to find her feelings based on lies. 166

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And Evan - the real power here - where did he fit into all of this? Her heart clenched at the way she’d encouraged Damien to stand up to him, and at the state he’d left Alex in after his beating. She drifted off to sleep with a picture of Alex and his swollen and bloodied face in her mind, and in her dreams it was Damien lying broken on the ground while Evan laughed and told her that it was her fault for urging him to be brave. She awoke from the brief dream with a jolt, fighting for breath. The water-jug was empty, so she rubbed her eyes and raked her fingers through her hair, smoothing it out as best she could. Evan’s words still lingered in her mind, intensifying the need to find Damien and warn him not to do anything rash on her behalf. And to reassure herself that he was the kind, shy man that she remembered. Please don't let it be true, she prayed. Please don't let Damien reveal himself to be the monster everyone believes him to be. The monster he was perfectly happy to let everyone think he was.

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Chapter 13 Damien made a big show of helping Flora find Alex, while his mind frantically sought a more plausible excuse for his behaviour in the attic. Lissa had looked very doubtful about the singing and had obviously thought him completely mad when he'd feigned the leg cramp. “This is a waste of time.” Flora eyed him suspiciously. “Are you sure you don't know where he is?” “I've no idea. I'm not his keeper.” Damien stood, hands in pockets, watching her open the cellar door and peer into the darkness. He knew full well where Alex went when he wanted to disappear, but wasn't about to tell Flora. “Do you mind if I go now?” he asked. She waved him away. “Yes, yes. And don't you go waking Lissa. The poor girl was quite exhausted.” “I can imagine. So, which room did you put her in?” “The King's Room. I'll be watching you, Damien. Let her sleep.” “The King's Room? Did you tell her about the ghost?” “No, I did not.” Flora paused for a moment. A flicker of happier memories momentarily lit up her features. “It's the grandest room in the house. And I just couldn't resist it. It's so nice to have a girl to spoil again.” The smile faded. “That was a long time ago, and you are not to mention the ghost, do you hear?”

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Damien was already walking away. Would it be mean to tell Lissa the room was said to be haunted? He'd never actually seen the ghost, but many claimed to have. As he climbed the stairs he thought that perhaps a warning might be in order. But then she would be too scared to sleep there. This might mean that she’d want company. Waking up with her that morning had been a wonderful experience. He indulged the fantasy as he walked along the picture gallery, fully intent on going back to his bedroom and writing some poetry. However, his feet were not about to obey him. They walked right past his door of their own accord. Lissa had asked him to show her the house, and besides, he really needed to see how she was after the incident in the attic. His hand was raised, ready to knock, when the door opened and Lissa appeared, looking sleepily dishevelled. She blinked several times as if she was having trouble registering who he was, then she gave him a small smile of recognition and ran a hand through her hair. “Oh, Damien, I was just coming to find you. I need a comb.” She grimaced as her fingers caught in a snag. “I can help you with that,” Damien said. “Here.” Pushing open the door, he walked past her to the dressing table. The shallow drawer held a silver-backed hairbrush, a hand mirror and a comb. “Will these do?” “Thank you, they will do fine,” Alicia replied. She sat on the stool in front of the mirror. Damien stood back and watched her begin to expertly work the brush through the long strands, starting at the ends then making the strokes longer and longer until she was sweeping the brush the length of her hair. Every so often she glanced 169

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up at him, but quickly turned away when he saw her looking. No mention yet of the incident in the attic. Which was good. “There, all done.” She put down the brush and turned to him. “Does it look better?” His thoughts had wandered a long way from hair brushing. I should have offered to help her, he thought “It's, it's...lovely,” he said aloud. “I could have, you know, helped, with the hair.” “Oh. That would have been nice. It's quite difficult, brushing your own hair.” She stood up and he watched in fascination when she threaded her hands under the hair at her neck and swept it into the air, letting it fall behind her shoulders. He wanted to do that for her too, so he stuffed his hands into his pockets instead. “Perhaps next time? Damien, may I ask you something?” “Did you sleep?” They both spoke at the same time. Damien shrugged and indicated for her to continue, however, she didn't seem inclined to. “No, you speak,” she said. “What did you say?” “I was wondering if you managed to sleep. I've never liked this room.” Damnation, why did I say that? Now she looks worried. “It's just that I’ve always found it too grand. I don't know why Flora put you in here.”

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“Oh, she was very excited. Wanted to show off, I think. It is rather grand.” “You still look tired.” “You are full of compliments today. No, don't blush.Damien. It was meant as a joke.” Lissa walked over to the bed and climbed up. For a moment Damien thought she was going back there to sleep, but she perched on the edge, legs dangling, and patted the space beside her. “Sit and talk with me for a while. If we go downstairs, I fear Flora will commandeer us again and we’ll have no privacy.” He looked at her, then at the door. “Is she coming to wake you up?” “Not for a while. Come, I won't bite you.” He walked over to the bed, and jumped up beside her, bracing himself for more questions about his behaviour in the attic. He must continue to insist he’d been singing, but was sure she’d seen the title of the book. How was he to explain that? “Tell me who they are.” She pointed to the portraits hanging on the far wall. “They look so grim.” Damien leaned back on his elbows and contemplated the paintings. “That one is the first Lord Rossendale, and the smaller one is his wife. That accounts for his grim expression. Imagine being married to her?”

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She giggled at his joke, which pleased him. “There’s been a dwelling on the site since Saxon times. He rebuilt the house in the seventeenth century. I think he fancied a castle, which accounts for the towers. Did Flora tell you King Charles the Second slept in this room?” “She did mention it.” Alicia’s expression turned a little serious. “It almost felt as if he was still here. I had a dreadful dream.” “I'm sorry to hear that.” Damien sat upright again and turned to her. “Would you like another room? A smaller one, perhaps?” “No. Flora would be mortally offended, I think. The room is fine, but can I tell you about the dream? I find it helps if I talk about them.” Damien looked at her intently, only now noticing that, as well as tired, she looked decidedly miserable. Grateful as he was that she didn't want to talk about the attic incident, he didn't like the thought of her being unhappy enough for bad dreams. “Of course you can, Lissa. You can tell me anything, you know that, don't you? If you want to talk about what happened on the cliff road, you can. I was selfish to say I didn't want to hear about it.” She shook her head. “No, that's all right. It's the dream - it was about Evan. He said some awful things about you, and I can't get it out of my mind.” “I'm so sorry. Was it what he did to Alex? Perhaps that's what triggered the dream?” Damien lifted a hand, quickly placing it back onto his lap when she turned around. 172

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“No, it wasn't that. He said you were...” She looked away. “…Like your father.” Damien frowned. “My father? I don't remember him at all. He left when I was very young. Did Evan say anything else?” He waited for her answer, almost forgetting to breathe. Had it been some sort of prophetic dream? And was she about to tell him something about his father that he'd really rather not know? Evan had known his father well. She turned her face back to him and he saw her shudder. Her shoulders shook when she tried to speak. “Oh dear, come here,” he said, and slipped his arm around her back. He dropped his voice a little. “What did he say about my father?” “Evan said that he was mad, and unpredictable. And that you were the same.” Damien went very still. Damnation. It was time to let Evan know once and for all who was the master in this house. Lissa needed to know this for her own peace of mind. “Don't worry about it,” he said, swallowing his anger. “I'm going to talk with Evan. It's about time I asserted myself. He shouldn't be allowed to beat Alex senseless, and he should not talk to me the way he does. Things are going to change around here, Lissa.” He lifted her chin so he could look into her eyes and let her know he meant it. “It's your doing. You've given me a reason to stand up to him.” 173

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Lissa’s eyes grew bigger by the moment. He could swear that she looked about to cry. Not quite the reaction he'd hoped to his rallying speech. Instead of looking proud of him, she shook her head and gave a small sob. “No, you must not, Damien. Can you not see it’s the worst thing you could do? Please don’t make him angry.” A few tears spilled over and tracked down her cheeks. She wiped them away before continuing. “Look at what happened to Alex because you brought me here. I don't want that happening to you too. Please, Damien.” “I thought it was what you wanted? This morning in the kitchen you said we should stand against injustice, and that's what I’m going to do.” He pulled her back against him, letting his fingers move lightly over the mass of hair spilling over her shoulders. Remembered that she'd been through something terrible and traumatic in the past few days and he was to go gently with her and let her work it out in her own way. “I don't understand what you're asking me to do. Are you saying you don't want me to confront Evan about Alex or anything else?” “I don't think we should make him angry.” She moved her hand to the front of his shirt and absently ran a finger over one of the buttons. Her voice was still a little husky from the tears. “If you do this now, he'll blame me, and then I won't be safe here. I need to stay here, Damien. I really need a place to hide. It's horribly selfish of me, but in my dream, you were dead – Evan had killed you, and he said it was my fault for making you stand up to him. Who is he?” “He's run the estate for as long as I can remember, and he's well-educated, although he doesn’t always choose to show it. Evan never speaks about himself. Lissa, rest 174

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assured he won’t lay a hand on you. I will not stand by and let that happen.” She gave another small sniff and answered him a little more cheerfully. “I know that, and thank you. I just feel that I need to be careful around him. He could make a lot of trouble for me.” She was right. Evan went out into the world and travelled to Plymouth regularly. It wouldn’t take him long to find out why Lissa was in hiding. The question was, what would he do then? Tipping his head back, hands folded in his lap, Damien contemplated the ceiling with all its very unsuitably unclothed cherubs looking cheekily down at them. Not being able to confront Evan in the way he'd wanted was frustrating, but he certainly didn’t want to upset Lissa any more than she already appeared to be. They were shoulder-to-shoulder and, when he turned back, only a few inches separated their faces. Her features looked different close up, and he squinted his eyes a little to focus. Pink lips, slightly parted, teeth resting on the bottom one, biting down lightly. He wondered if she’d ever been kissed. She managed a smile. “Let's talk about something else. I fear you are a romantic at heart, like me.” He frowned again. Not what he'd expected to hear. Then he tried to refocus his attention to her lips once more. It was too soon to kiss her. He'd known her barely a day. She tried again. “I thought the dresses of the last century must have been very heavy and awkward to 175

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wear. I hope dresses that large never come into fashion again. What’s your opinion?” Dresses? “Umm, I've never thought about it before,” he said absently. Her eyes were green, but mixed with a little blue, giving them a smoky appearance. He wanted to paint her portrait. “Oh. I thought you'd be interested in fashion.” “Why?” She shook her head. “No reason. Do you think Flora will be coming to fetch me soon?” “Perhaps. Why should you think me interested in fashion?” He felt a small stab of disappointment when she slid from the bed and smoothed out her skirts. She really did look very lovely in that dress. Then suddenly it dawned on him. Ladies' Fashion Through the Ages. She'd seen the other book. And that meant she'd seen Miss Abigail too. He was already growing hot at the thought of what her next question might be, when he realised she had genuinely been trying to start a conversation about fashion. Which meant that, although she might have seen the book, there was a good chance she hadn't seen the contents yet. “Come,” she said extending her hand. “Let's go and see if Flora needs any help preparing the luncheon. You must be hungry, since you didn't have any of her delicious porridge this morning.” “I loathe Flora's porridge, but I am hungry now. It will be bread and cheese. It's always bread and cheese.”

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Where were the books? he wondered, panic growing. Still in the attic? Or had she taken them? The illustrations in the so-called fashion book were particularly scandalous. How would he ever face her again if she saw them? He felt himself blushing, and to his horror his body started a slow, steady pulsing, which could only mean one thing. This was becoming a problem. Since Lissa’s arrival one lewd thought had followed another with much too alarming a frequency. Was this normal for men of his age? There was no-one to ask. If he'd ever needed a father figure to set him right on these things, it was now. He held the door open for Lissa, hoping she wouldn't notice the bulge appearing in his trousers, and in his mind started reciting the most boring poem he could think of in an effort to quell it. But it wasn't working. It wasn't working at all.

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Chapter 14 After a week at the mansion, Alicia felt her life slipping into the comfortable routine of those around her. She seemed to have arrived at an unspoken agreement with Evan, who, apart from a few covert glances, had hardly acknowledged her presence since their meeting near the attic stairs. And Flora had at last allowed her to help with the more ladylike chores such as mending, and arranging flowers cut from the neglected and rambling gardens. Crosbie’s horrible death, and her terrified flight along the cliff road, already felt like some half-remembered nightmare. Here, in this place, where they’d accepted her readily and without question, Alicia found it all too easy to retreat into denial. She sat in Flora’s rocking chair, pushing aside unwelcome thoughts of the outside world. Contemplating instead the pile of shirts and socks Flora had deemed fit for mending. Alicia was secretly of the opinion that they should all be cut up for rags – they were all in such a poor state – but Flora would have none of it. What was too far gone for Damien to wear was passed on to Alex. The poor lad looked as if he’d been dressed in the last century, by a charity committee. Damien was hunched over the kitchen table, writing in his journal and looking only little more presentable. He was a lord, yet he dressed more like a lowly servant; a state which nobody seemed to either notice or be concerned about. There should have been a world of difference between Damien and Alex, yet here they could have been mistaken for brothers. 178

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Alicia held back a smile as she watched Damien chew on the end of his pencil, then resume his scribbling. Their ready acceptance of her was touching. Damien followed her around diligently, almost as if she might disappear if she wasn’t in his sight, asking her endless questions about the outside world, playing the piano for her, or simply working quietly beside her. Twice he’d taken her hand and looked as if he were about to say something of great importance. It had always turned out to be a comment about the weather or something equally trivial. Sometimes he just sat, elbows on the table and head in hands, staring at her for long moments. He favoured his mother, she decided, both in features and colouring. Privately, she thought that Alex had more of the dark Lucius look than Damien did. “I fear I’ve lost the light,” she announced. “No more sewing for me tonight.” Damien looked up. “Would you like to go along to the music room? I could play something for you.” Alicia stretched out the stiffness in her arms and rolled her shoulders, noticing full well how wide Damien's eyes became when her jacket gaped open. “I'll just find Flora and ask if I may finish these tomorrow. Then perhaps you would sing for me? You still haven't performed the song you've been practising.” Alex, who’d been quietly drinking himself to sleep in the corner, gave a loud snort at her comment and spat a mouthful of beer into his lap. Damien managed to go every shade of red Alicia had ever seen.

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“I don't see what’s so funny, Alex. He’s been practising every day, haven't you, Damien?” Alex gave another snort of laughter and looked so near to choking that she felt obliged to hurry over to him and slap him vigorously on the back. “Damien has been practising for an hour a day, and I have great expectations of a fine performance when the time comes. I have offered to help him repeatedly, but he will have none of it. What on Earth is so funny about that?” “Singing?” Alex managed at last. “Is that what ‘e told you?” “Well, do forgive me,” she said, a little indignantly. “I wouldn’t have said anything had I known this would be the reaction. The piano will be fine, Damien, but don’t leave us in suspense for much longer. I am sure you are just being modest, and that we will all be amazed by your hidden talent.” At this Alex fell off his chair. Damien grabbed his wine glass and drained the contents in one. He started towards the door. Alicia took hold of his arm when he almost knocked her down in his effort to get out of the room. “Wait, Damien. I’m sorry if I embarrassed you. Forget what I said. I have a better idea. When I’ve spoken to Flora, shall we play a game?” Damien blinked at the about-turn. “A game? You mean like cards?”

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“Don't you play 'im at cards. Cheats, ‘e does. And Flora's gone to bed with an 'eadache.” Alicia looked at Alex, still sitting on the floor where he'd landed. “Has she now? And Evan is away, is he not? Good, then we will not be disturbed.” “You cheat, too.” Damien protested, his face thankfully returning to its normal colour. “I only cheat because you do.” “Never mind about cheating,” Alicia replied. “I don't want to play cards. I have something in mind which will be much more fun. Let's go and play at dressing-up. There are so many clothes in the house. Come on. It will be very amusing, do you not think?” “Why should dressing-up be amusing?” Damien ran a hand through his hair and glanced at Alex. Alex shook his head. “Don’t look at me, I’ve no idea. Not getting me in no fancy clothes.” “Oh.” Alicia’s mouth took a downward turn. She was learning fast that the appearance of a helpless female usually brought men running to her rescue. With a small sniff, she turned away. “I just thought you might like to indulge me, that is all. But never mind. I shall go to bed too. Goodnight.” This time Damien stopped her. “Don't go. I’m sorry, Lissa. We'll play your game. Won't we, Alex?” “Oh please do. And you must too, Alex.” Alicia brightened and clapped her hands together. “It will be so much fun. You will both look so handsome in proper clothes. Come, the wardrobe in the King’s Room is 181

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positively bursting with the most wonderful garments imaginable.” “Just a moment,” Damien said, grinning broadly now. “First I have a condition to make.” He picked up a wine cup and offered it to Alicia. “We’ll play dress-up if you’ll join us in this. What do you say?” Alicia waved the goblet away. “Oh, no thank you. One was quite enough. But please, don’t let me stop you.” “Just as I suspected,” Damien replied, still holding out the cup. “Women cannot hold their drink. No matter. I understand if you’re too fragile to join us.” “Too fragile? Me?” Alicia stopped and eyed the cup. This was new. A side of Damien she had yet to see. Playing her at her own game and issuing a challenge from which she couldn’t back down. “Fill it up,” she instructed. “And I will show you exactly how a woman holds her drink.” Damien’s shoulders sagged almost in relief that he hadn’t been left standing there looking like a fool. He reached for the wine bottle and filled the cup to the brim. Alicia matched his grin with one of her own and looked him in the eye. “I warn you, though, I have conditions of my own if I do this. Will you agree to obey my every command tonight?” “That will not be a problem, Lissa. But I don't think you’ll last past two glasses.” “We shall see about that. Hand it over.” It went down smoothly enough, except for a small coughing fit at the end. This is good experience, she told 182

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herself. One which I would surely be denied in the outside world. “Kindly bring the bottle, will you?” she said, and flounced out of the kitchen, already feeling the effect of the alcohol. A small surge of wicked abandonment, and a slight tilting of the room made it difficult to walk in a straight line. However, the boys were already well ahead of her, as they’d started drinking much earlier in the evening. With a little judicial restraint, she was confident of being the last one standing. “Come on,” she commanded from the door. “The King’s Room. Shall we begin there?” “As good a place as any.” Damien picked up his own cup and followed her, Alex trailing behind. At the bottom of the stairs he took her wine goblet. “Forgive me,” he said. “I couldn’t help noticing that your cup was empty. Do let me fill it for you.” “Why, Damien. Such a gentleman, you are.” Alicia lifted her skirts, giving him a wink and a rather lop-sided curtsey. Taking the cup, she nodded towards his own. “Please join me. You wouldn’t want me to drink alone, would you?” He obeyed her command, just as he’d promised to. **** Damien wasn't intending to get Lissa very drunk. Just curiosity, he told himself. Nothing to do with the fact that the alcohol would undoubtedly loosen her inhibitions and his mind was already racing with the possibilities. He lifted the wine bottle and raised his eyebrows, secretly impressed at the way she steadfastly held out 183

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her cup and allowed him to fill it. A truly remarkable woman, and one who, he imagined, wouldn't fail to keep surprising him. But she wasn’t about to win this drinking contest. Of that he was already certain. Giggling wildly, they tiptoed past Flora’s door and into the King’s Room, where Alex promptly fell into the wardrobe and had to be hauled out to more hysterical laughter. The air of hysteria reminded Damien of the night the night they'd taken the coach out, and how much his life had changed since then. Such a long time since this house had heard genuine, feminine laughter. All the Lucius women in the portraits looked either grim or very sad. None gave the impression of having been happy here. He wondered if that might be about to change. Lissa held out an elaborate silver-brocade coat, grand enough have been worn by King Charles himself. Smirking, she threw out the challenge, and Damien had no option but to take it. The coat smelled musty and looked moth-eaten. He reached for it dubiously. “Put it on. I think it will fit you perfectly,” she said. “Come, I’m good at these things. By the end of the evening you will both look like perfect gentlemen.” She gave a small hiccup and dived back into the wardrobe. “Now Alex… Ahh, just right.” She re-emerged with a similar-looking coat and threw it at Alex, who stared at it as if it was about to bite him. Damien slipped into his coat. It did fit him rather well, although the dust set off a fit of sneezing which he had difficulty getting under control. Was a kiss worth all this? If he was honest, that was what he hoped for tonight. 184

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“Now go to the mirror and look at yourselves,” Alicia ordered, placing a hand on each of their backs. They had no option but to go. Alex burst out laughing again, stopping abruptly when he realised that no-one was joining in. Damien stared at himself long and hard, wondering if Lissa could possibly know what had happened to him in the past week. His life, which had been lacking in any kind of focus and devoid of all hope, was now abundant in both. The coat, especially, made him realise how different it might have been had he not been cursed with a disease that kept him hidden from the world. In another life, he would have worn fine clothes and hosted fabulous balls. Society women would have fallen at his feet, for his money and title if nothing else But then he wouldn't be standing here trying to please this rather tipsy and very engaging young woman who called herself Lissa. Her face was luminous, probably an effect of the alcohol, but it suited her. It was a feeling like no other to know that her smile, which was made even more endearing by the slightly crooked front tooth which showed between her parted lips, was just for him. Something he wouldn't change for all the society hostesses in the world. Right now, this was more than enough, so he straightened his back and tried to look like a lord for once. “How do we look?” When he held out his arms the coat gaped open. Lissa stepped towards him and slowly buttoned it, sliding her fingers from one to the other, looking him in the eye all the while. His mouth went very dry and he swallowed hard. Kissing her was all he could think about, but Alex was standing next to him, grinning like an idiot, and it wouldn’t be proper to do it in front of him. Lissa finished her task and walked around the back 185

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of him. Her hand grazed the back of his neck, gently teasing out strands of hair which had become caught up in the collar. Another wave of sensation pulsed through his body. He'd always loved Flora messing with his hair. Lissa’s touch was sheer heaven. “There, that's better.” She wriggled herself between him and Alex, and they surveyed themselves in silence. Each of them caught in the moment, their reflection resembling a painting from another time. Lissa didn't protest when he slipped his arm around her back, but rather leaned into him very slightly and gave a little nod, which he caught in the mirror. At that moment, the wanting was almost painful. Be mine, he urged, silently. Please stay and be mine. Would he have the courage to say that out loud one day? His heart tripped up at the possibilities now opening up for him, almost too much for his limited experience to cope with. The moment took on a strangely surreal air. Lissa was also in period dress, and for the first time Damien felt that the room might be haunted after all. The air hummed with something other-worldly, as if time itself had stopped and trapped them there. A sudden panic descend on him, a sense of foreboding which made him pull Lissa even tighter to his side. Alex had by this time lost interest and wandered back to the wardrobe, leaving just the two of them standing at the mirror. Lissa leaned her head against his chest and her lips moved. Damien tilted his head and frowned a little to let her know he hadn't caught the words. Lissa raised herself up on tiptoe and whispered close to his ear. “You look very handsome, My Lord. I fear that I am quite dazzled by you.” 186

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My Lord? Is that who he really was? Damien Lucius. Lord Rossendale. Master of all he surveyed. As he stared, the image in the mirror changed, and a new life unfolded before him. One with a wife to love and comfort him. Children to carry on his name. The future he’d never dared to hope for. The wife made him tremendously happy, but for the children there was only sadness. What if they were like him, condemned to live in the darkness? Was it a risk he was prepared to take? Was that what life was all about? Risking failure in the hope of realising dreams? He blinked, the image disappeared and again he saw two people who stood so close to happiness, they only had to reach out and take it. He rubbed his cheek against Lissa’s hair and took a deep breath, memorising the scent, feeling its silky caress, aware that Alex was watching them closely. Lissa giggled and whispered to him. “You are not as drunk as you pretend, My Lord.” Damien lifted his head, unable to mask the happiness showing so plainly on his face. “Then I will match you drink for drink, My Lady.” He let his hand slide across her back and caught hold of her hand, feeling a newfound boldness. Silently begging her to go gently with him in all his insecurities and inexperience. “Shall we have a toast?” Damien let her go. He retrieved the wine bottle and solemnly recharged their cups. “Yes, a toast, Alicia agreed. “How about…no, wait, I have it.” A quick rummage in the wardrobe and she was back, her prize held aloft. “How about a toast to Miss Abigail? We will drink to romance - yes? Then, Damien, I 187

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would love to hear you read to us from it. You have such a nice voice.” Puppy-dog eyes looked up at him, pleading. Exactly how someone looks when they are half way to being drunk as a lord. Dutifully, the three of them lifted their cups and clinked them together, while Damien’s panicked mind scrabbled for an excuse which would allow him to extract himself from this with reputation intact. Alicia handed over the book and, rather unsteadily, plopped down onto the floor. She patted the spaces on either side of her, commanding Damien and Alex to sit down. Alex fell down beside her. Damien lowered himself cautiously, and stared at their expectant faces. They were both waiting, Alex with his mouth open and Lissa nodding encouragement and sipping her wine. Had she already read the book? It was doubtful, for she hadn't looked shocked or scandalised when she'd revealed it, and Alex couldn't read anyway. He only looked at the pictures, and this one didn't have any. Damien decided that the only way out was to make up a story and pretend to be reading from the book. He opened the book and stared at the page, his winebefuddled mind scrabbling to think of something convincing. He, who had read virtually every book in the house couldn't, at that moment, bring to mind a single story. “Once upon a time...” he began. “Once upon a time... Er, once upon a time there were…three pigs.” Lissa frowned. Alex's mouth dropped even farther open.

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“I mean bears, did I say pigs?” A nervous laugh escaped Damien. He began again, staring hard at the book for effect. “Once upon a time there were three bears, and they all lived in a little house in the forest...” He looked up at their surprised expressions. “What?” he countered. “It's a perfectly good story. Now, do you want me to continue or don't you?” Alicia and Alex nodded enthusiastically. Damien took another breath and started again. “Once upon a time a bear had three pigs and they all lived in a little wolf in the forest...”

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Chapter 15 “Oh, Damien, that was so sad. Who will look after the pigs if Miss Abigail dies?” “Ahh, that would be telling. I fear you must brace yourself. This story is a terrible tragedy and a happy ending is very unlikely.” Alex gave a loud sniff at the news and wiped his nose on the coat-sleeve. Damien bit his lip to keep from laughing. His tale had indeed been heart-wrenching, with Lissa and Alex hanging on to every word. Eventually he closed the book with a snap and shook his head at their disappointed looks. “It's a very long book and would take all night if I continued to the end. I think it’s your turn to tell a story, Lissa. Do you have one that might amuse us?” She thought for a moment, still obviously a little caught up in the drama of Miss Abigail dying of consumption and leaving all those dependent animals. Then she brightened. “I have the very book.” Diving back into the wardrobe, she reappeared with the book of ladies' fashions. “I will read from this, and might even model some of the clothes for you if I can find some similar in the house.” Alex immediately gave a chortle and sat up. Damien's heart, meanwhile, started to beat at twice its normal rate, spurred on by an extremely vivid picture of Lissa striking one of the poses in the book. From the look on 190

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Alex’s face, the very same thought was going through his mind. Damien lunged for the book. Lissa waggled her finger and held it aloft, nearly falling over backward at the suddenness of his move. “Naughty boy,” she said. “You've had your turn.” He tried again. Catching hold of her wrist, he pulled the book towards him. The momentum pulled Lissa forward and, without much resistance, she tipped into his lap, still refusing to let go of her prize. “It's my turn, Damien. What's got into you?” She gazed up at him, her brow creased into a puzzled frown. It soon gave way to a giggle, whereupon her mouth curved into a very wicked smile. “Is there something in here you don't want me to see, by any chance?” Her fingers strayed to the book’s cover while her gaze remained on his face. He made another grab for the book, and this time caught hold, his fingers closing over hers. “We don't want to look at fashion, Alex.” “Yes, we do.” “Believe me. We don't, Alex.” Damien pried Lissa’s fingers from the book one by one, ignoring her gasps of protest. In fact he had now given up all subtlety in the matter. Eventually, she relaxed against him. Damien swung the book high into the air, deliberately clipping Alex on the side of the head as he did so. The idiot must have seen it before and was obviously settling in for quite a show. 191

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“Let's put this here, shall we?” Damien placed the book out of reach – with Miss Abigail– and breathed a sigh of relief. Lissa wriggled farther into his lap, still looking bemused at his behaviour. The yellow ribbon threaded through the neckline of her dress had loosened. He tried not to stare too hard at the tantalising glimpse of cleavage. “You are a very naughty boy.” She favoured him with a saucy wink and waved an arm. “My cup is empty. Another drink, please.” He should sit her up again. Stop enjoying the weight of her moving against his most sensitive parts. Instead all he wanted was for Alex to disappear so he could dip his head down and cover her lips with his own. Would that be too rash a move when she was too drunk to resist? His arm tingled where Lissa’s fingers grasped him. She hummed a tune, seemingly to herself, all the while glancing covertly at him, as if daring him to make a move. Damien’s willpower wilted under her gaze. If ever an invitation had been issued, it was now. And if he waited until they were sober, they might never do this. “Alex. Go get the brandy.” Alex stared at him, eyes wide and fogged with drink. “Now, Alex. It's in my bedroom.” For a moment Alex hovered, staring at him and Lissa in turn, as if he'd only just realised she lay in such an intimate position. His mouth turned up at the corners when the penny finally dropped, and with a shrug he hauled himself upright and staggered from the room. 192

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Sending Alex to the wine-cellar for a new bottle would have allowed more time alone with Lissa, but Damien couldn't risk him falling down the steep stone steps in his drunken state and breaking his neck in the process. Not even for a kiss with the girl of his dreams. Alone with Lissa at last, he let out a deep breath and listened to Alex’s footsteps fading in the distance. He reached out and tangled his fingers in the scattered strands of golden hair spilling out over his lap. This need, this wanting, was becoming an all-consuming thing. It seemed to occupy every moment of his waking hours, and most of his dreams. He'd never been on a long journey, but this is how he imagined it would feel to be nearing the end. Anticipation, building and building and then, as the destination came into sight, relaxing and feeling safe again because home was near. A moment so long in coming. Lissa stopped humming and locked her gaze with his, drawing him down by the sheer force of their mutual desire. Her hand slid upward, fingers grasping at the collar of his coat. And he went. Understanding for the first time what it was to be completely powerless and not care a jot about anything except attaining the goal. He should say something. It still didn't feel right that they should kiss without some sort of declaration. When he tried to speak, his throat was too dry, his voice raspy, and all that came out was a silly comment about how silky her hair was. Lissa shook her head. “No, Damien, tell me. Really tell me,” she commanded, pulling him even closer. So close that he could feel her breath on his face. So he told her that her hair was like a silken thread which he would use to bind her to him forever. It seemed to please her. She 193

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told him she would like that, and he was never to let her go. His fingers cupped the back of her head, raising her face to his. He breathed deeply in an attempt to slow the erratic beating of his heart. Her lips were so close, he could smell the wine she’d drunk - a reminder that she wasn’t sober, and he was possibly taking advantage. It was hard to care. He didn't know whether he was master here, or willing slave. “May I kiss you, Lissa?” The words spilled out in a rush as he remembered that he ought to ask her first. By way of answer her head lifted the mere fraction needed for their lips to touch. After all the build-up and anticipation, it was still a shock to find his mouth on hers. Damien pulled back briefly, looking at her one more time. Making sure this really was happening. That she was lying in his arms, lips slightly parted, eyes half-closed, ready and willing to do this with him. Alex might reappear at any moment with the brandy, so why was he wasting precious moments? Damien dropped his mouth to Lissa’s once more and found that this thing, which had so worried him, came naturally after all. Her fingers tightened in his shirt, his hand slipped behind her head and he abandoned himself to the slow slide of her warm lips against his, the sweet taste of her. They should stop, before Alex came back. But instead of pulling apart they pressed closer, accommodating, embracing. “I’ll cast a spell on you,” Lissa whispered against his cheek. “Hold you in my power. Would you like that?”

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Damien nodded fervently, and breathed, wishing he could spend eternity doing this with her. Because even if this is all there was, it was enough. **** Damien had no idea how much she trusted him to get this right. In her experience, kisses caused confusion and revulsion, but Alicia suspected they could be something else too. She pulled him down, giving permission, making the decision for them both. His momentary hesitation made her panic and wonder if she was pressuring him to move too fast. The wine, however, made her bold. Crosbie had accused her of being a temptress, and for once in her life she wanted to be. She'd told Damien earlier that he must obey her every command tonight, and the look on his face told her that he'd go to the very gates of Hell and back for her if she asked it. Why go to Hell when Heaven was right here for the taking? The wine made her feel loose, and free. Lent her courage, and chased away the dark shadows of Crosbie and the outside world which lingered, always on the edges of her mind. This was too fast, too rash, but who knew how much time she’d have here in this sanctuary, which she was already starting to think of as home? And why wait for something that was going to happen anyway? Damien’s lips were soft and warm and surprisingly persuasive for one so inexperienced. He didn't try to force his tongue into her mouth as Crosbie had, but was rather teasing her very lightly with it, making only occasional contact with hers. He seemed to know exactly how much pressure to apply to leave her wanting more. She suspected he wasn't aware that every time he eased 195

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ever so slightly out of the kiss she would crane her neck up and draw him back down, increasing the intensity bit by bit until they were both breathless. She didn't want to waste time breathing. He was in her power. She told him so and pulled him greedily back to her, demanding that he surrender himself and continue making her mouth burn and her skin tingle. Loving the abandonment and honesty of his touch and the way she was driving him to the edge of control. Is this love? she wondered, dimly aware that Alex was back in the room, leaning against the wardrobe, lazily watching them. They shouldn't be doing this in front of him, but she was having a hard time breaking out of the sensual haze which surrounded them. As she pulled back a little to try and warn Damien, he only muttered something and followed her, taking her head in his hands to keep her still. It took a few moments to make him realise she wanted him to stop. At first he looked a little confused, then a look of panic descended, as if perhaps he thought he'd overstepped the mark or hurt her. She had to physically turn his face towards Alex before he realised what she was trying to tell him. He sat up slowly, pulling her with him, running his hand through his hair and looking like someone who’d just woken up from a deep sleep. Alex didn't look the slightest bit offended by their behaviour. He picked up the brandy bottle and poured himself a drink, then passed the bottle to Damien, who took a moment to register what it was before picking up his cup and pouring a drink for himself. Alicia took the bottle from him and, in turn, poured one out for herself. Self-consciousness overtook her, and not only because 196

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Alex had witnessed the kiss. She had been enjoying it far more than was proper for a woman of her station. The thought made her laugh out loud, causing the two men to look at her with puzzled expressions. Her mother had always taught that genteel young ladies did not enjoy the physical attentions of a man. Rather, they put up with them and did quite literally close their eyes and think of the glory of England instead. Alicia wasn't just laughing at that. She was laughing at the notion that the term genteel young woman could ever apply to her again. Genteel young women didn't murder people, then run away with the first man who crossed their paths. They didn't enjoy breathtaking kisses on bedroom floors, kisses that left them quite literally panting for more. And they didn't seduce innocent young men. She took a large gulp of her brandy, coughing as it burned her throat, and wondered where this might have led had Alex not come back. And how they were all going to feel about this in the morning. **** Damien pulled at his coat buttons. The brocade was far too heavy for summer wear. Alex sported a slightly amused look, as if it had taken him this long to work out what he'd witnessed. As Damien unbuttoned the coat and pulled it off, he realised he didn't care whether Alex had been watching them or not. He was used to the lack of privacy that came with his position in life. Very little was kept secret in this house. But poor Lissa? How would she feel about it? He was a man, and he knew by Alex’s envious expression that being caught like this would only earn him prestige. What man wouldn't want to show off the fact that he had a beautiful woman swooning over his kisses? He couldn't help it. He'd have 197

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been impressed, and probably wildly jealous, if Alex had turned up with a woman as beautiful as Lissa. But poor Lissa? How would she feel about it? For women it had to be different. Lissa was adjusting her skirts and avoiding eye contact with him, and he couldn't help wondering how she felt about having taken this step. For him it was a most wonderful experience that had left him aching for more. Unfortunately, Lissa almost looked as if she was regretting it. He hoped it was only the being caught part that had made her so suddenly subdued. With Alex watching, asking her was out of the question. The sight of her knocking back the brandy with such abandon told him that she felt she was sobering up, and he sympathised, knowing well the feeling of panic that descends when reason intrudes on a previously carefree state. He undid his cuffs and rolled up his shirtsleeves, partly because he was still hot and partly because it gave him thinking time. What did he do now? He'd declared his intentions, in a way, although he realised he hadn't actually told her he loved her, nor had she said it to him. And he'd kissed her most passionately, but it had ended much too abruptly. He sat beside her, feeling far too hot and wildly frustrated. Her agitated expression told him that it had been the wrong time to do this and that the kiss wasn't over by any means. He wanted to hold her and talk about these feelings, and then kiss her again. Alex would fall asleep soon – he always did when he drank– but the moment felt as if it had passed for now. This, Damien guessed, was going to be the cause of awkwardness which they would have to resolve before they could progress. He wanted to take her hand to show her that he'd meant everything he'd poured into that kiss. He didn't even 198

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dare do that. Pressing himself on her now might look as if he was only after her body, and, although he did want that, he wanted so much more. They sat in silence, drinking their brandy, Lissa giving a little cough every time she swallowed. And then Alex reminded them that they had been telling stories, and should he or Lissa go next? Damien couldn't imagine Alex having any story worth telling. Not one that could be repeated in front of a young lady, anyway. So he looked at Lissa, who seemed lost in thought, staring into her cup morosely. He placed a tentative hand on her shoulder and asked if she had a tale she'd like to share. To his relief she leaned her cheek momentarily into his hand before carefully placing her cup on the carpet in front of her. The contact was reassuring, even if she did look terribly sad. Had his kiss made her feel like that? She shook her head slightly, as if she'd caught the meaning of his look and was telling him no, it wasn't his doing. “I do have a story, and it is one that will put Miss Abigail in the shade.” she said. “I hope you will not be too shocked by it, for it is a tale of one so wicked that you cannot help but be.” Alex sat up at this declaration. Damien looked puzzled. Lissa seemed to have passed the happy-drunk stage and was rapidly descending into the pit of despair stage. He felt a twinge of guilt for letting her get this way. She seemed to have arrived there very rapidly, obviously unused to the effects of alcohol. This was the stage at which someone was likely to say things they might dearly regret later. It was when the deepest and most profound things were most likely to emerge, and Damien 199

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started, suddenly realising what she was about to tell them. When Lissa picked her cup up and lifted it to her lips, Damien reached over and took it from her hand, ignoring her weak protest. He slipped an arm around her back. She leaned against him and he gave her a squeeze to show her that she had his support and whatever she said would make no difference to how he felt about her. He was at a stage where he could listen safely without judging her. Then he remembered that she'd arrived covered in blood that wasn't her own, and, despite telling himself it made no difference, he couldn't stop the heavy thudding of his heart as he waited for her to start. **** “Once upon a time there was a little girl, who lived in a land inhabited by demons and monsters. But she was never afraid, because her heart was brave and true.” Alicia looked up to see the effect her words were having on the two men whose wholehearted attention she had. She leaned back against Damien's shoulder, grateful that he'd made the gesture. She'd thought for a moment, after she'd stopped the kiss, that perhaps she'd offended him and made him think that she wasn't enjoying it. However, his touch reassured her. She realised too that he somehow knew what she was going to say, and was now ready to hear it. “Carry on, Lissa. What happened to her?” “She grew up and all the hopes and dreams faded away. For a while she was very sad, then she started looking for them again. But no matter how hard she searched, they seemed to have disappeared forever.” To her 200

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shame, Alicia found her voice breaking as she tried to continue. She looked around for her drink. Damien handed it to her silently and watched her finish it. She felt his hand rubbing her back as she coughed again. She was glad to be leaning against him, for she knew that if she stood up now she would probably fall down. Alex kept splitting into two people, then merging back into one. It was most disconcerting. When before she'd been helpless with laughter, she was now overcome by a tremendous urge to cry long and hard, and pour out all her troubles to anyone who would listen. “Go on.” Damien urged her gently. Now that she'd started, Alicia knew she needed to finish. Damien should truly understand who he was harbouring in his house. Should she be saying this in front of Alex? Alicia glanced at him. Yes, he was a strange lad, secretive and quiet, but she instinctively knew that she could trust him. Even though he looked too drunk to remember anything she said. eventually it would dawn on him; he wasn’t half as stupid as he made out. “She could never find them because she was always looking in the wrong place. It took her a long time to realise this.” There was another long silence as she thought about what to say next. She couldn't just say the girl had killed someone. It sounded even too fantastic for a story, let alone a confession. This time it was Alex who urged her on. “Do finish, Lissa. Was there blood?” Damien glared at him for that. Alex lifted his shoulders. “More fun if there's blood.” 201

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Alicia gave a humourless laugh. “There’s no blood in this story, I'm afraid.” “But you said we'd be shocked.” Alex sounded disappointed. “You sure there's no blood?” “Well, all right, just a little.” She couldn't say it. Now that Damien was ready to hear it, she couldn’t bring herself to say the words. But Alex wanted his blood, so she'd give him some. And then she was going to be tremendously sick. The nausea was coming over her in waves now and just the memory of the smell of the brandy was making her want to heave. She racked her brains for a suitably gory and swift ending to the story and wondered if she’d make it to the chamber pot behind the screen. “The girl grew up to be a beautiful princess, and one day a wicked witch locked her in a tower and told her she was going to make her evil like herself. But the princess found the strength to say no and pushed the witch out of the window. She fell a long way, and there was a lot of blood. The end.” Alex burst into a round of noisy clapping, and exclaimed his approval at her tale. He started to demand another one, but then he realised it was his turn, so he staggered to his feet and struck a pose. Alicia felt the colour draining out of her face as she fought the waves of nausea that were fast overtaking her. Alex launched into his tale. “This room's 'aunted by an 'eadless ghost. Sleeps in that bed over there. Seen 'im mesself. All covered in blood.” 202

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“Blood?” Alicia looked at the bed, her eyes wide, then at Damien, who jumped up, pulling her with him as he realised what was about to happen. “Haunted?” She looked from Alex to Damien and clamped a hand over her mouth. “Oh, Damien, I think I'm going to be...” She didn't have time to finish because he had her behind the screen and she was throwing up the contents of her stomach into the pot. She was aware of him kneeling beside her, one hand on her forehead, the other holding her hair out of the way as she heaved. “I’m sorry, so sorry” she gasped, in between the retching. “I just can’t…” Sorry for not being able to hold her drink, or not being able to tell him what had happened to her? At that moment she didn’t know what she was apologising for, only that she needed to keep saying it. “Don’t worry about it,” Damien whispered over and over. “You’re safe here. I won’t let anything happen to you.” She heard him telling Alex to go to bed, and Alex sounding rather peeved because he hadn't finished his story and he was just getting to the good bit. Then there was nothing left in her stomach so she sat back on her heels, grateful that the vomiting was done with, but dreading the headache that would inevitably come. Damien's arms circled her. Why couldn't I have met him before Crosbie? We are perfect together and I could have been so happy with him. Shy, gentle Damien whose eyes held nothing but love for her, and whose mouth could smile like a little 203

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boy then kiss her senseless, all in a heartbeat. And who was kissing her now, small feather-light touches on the top of her head, and smoothing back her hair, telling her everything was going to be all right and they had all the time in the world. But it wasn't. And they didn't have. She needed to make him understand that. “They’ll find me, Damien.” His grip tightened. “No, don’t tell me, Lissa. Not now, not when you’re like this.” “Yes,” she said, taking hold of his face. “You need to know.” He'd promised to keep her safe, but at what cost? They were coming for her, as surely as she'd thought Lord Lucius had come to take her to Hell that night on the cliff road. And they'd have her. Crosbie's family was rich and influential. They wouldn't rest until they'd found her and brought her to justice. And everyone here would go down with her. This little family who had taken her in, and asked no questions. These people who thought she’d come to make their lives better and who didn't know what they really had in their midst. Could she do this to them? Put them in such danger? Damien should know everything, so he could make his own decision. She needed his help, but he had to know what she'd done and who she was. Otherwise everything was based on lies and deceit and she was no better than Crosbie had been. “Listen to me,” she said, holding Damien firm, because he looked so terrified now that she feared he would bolt. 204

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“You need to know everything so that you can make your own decision about this. My name is Alicia Stanton and I killed someone, Damien. I’m a murderer. And now that you know that - do you still want to help me?”

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Chapter 16 She could see that she'd shocked him. And that he was struggling to hide it. As she let go of his face and slid her hands down to press against his chest, he was shaking his head and murmuring the word no repeatedly under his breath while trying to pull her to him. She wouldn't let him. He had to know. Had to understand just what it was that she wanted to tell him. “Listen to me, Damien.” She caught hold of his arms and looked up at him, insisting that he make eye contact. “Yes, I did kill someone. Do you understand what I'm trying to say? Do you realise what I am?” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. And, to her relief, when he re-opened them he looked a little calmer. “It can't be denied, Damien. You have to know.” And once he knew, once he truly understood the implications of what she'd said, he had to decide what he was going to do. Would he think she'd kissed him because she needed his help? She hardly dared breathe as she waited for his answer. **** “I'm not denying it.” Did she think that? Damien had known she was going to say something terrible, but that hadn't alleviated the shock of actually hearing the words spoken. But, shocked as he was, she had to know that it made no difference. 206

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“I hear you, Lissa, and I believe you.” He closed his eyes again, very briefly. “I'm...I'm, just making a very bad job of telling you that it doesn't matter.” She did let him lay her head on his chest then, and he stroked her hair as he contemplated what would happen now that he knew. “Nothing's changed, Lissa, Alicia - except that now I don't know which to call you.” He gave a little laugh at that. “Alicia - I like it. Look at me, my love. You are my love, you know that, don't you?” He searched her face to see if his words had registered. All he saw when she lifted her head was a tremendous weariness. As if the admission had taken all of her strength, and for now there was nothing left. Talk of love could come later. Right now she needed to know she had his understanding and support. And she needed to get to bed because she was going to feel terrible in the morning. “Come on, you should get some sleep.” He pulled her to her feet, a little worried by how dazed she was looking. “Are you going to be sick again?” “No, no,” she lifted her arm, then let it drop. “I thought you'd be more shocked. How can you be so calm?” “I can't help but think you must have had a good reason for what you did. I've thought about this so much since you came. Gone over and over it in my head. Come.” He walked her over to the bed, put his hands onto her waist and lifted her onto the edge of the mattress. “I'm shocked because you don't look capable of killing anyone.” His hand strayed to her hair and he fingered a 207

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lock of it as he spoke. “You're just– I don't know–, too small, too ladylike. Does that sound stupid?” “Oh, Damien…” She managed a ghost of a smile, which pleased him. He didn't want her to know just how shocked he actually was by her words and fervently hoped he'd done a good job of masking it. Even as he smiled for her, in his mind the same words were going over and over. If she were caught she would hang. “Damien?” Her hand was stroking his face, and he knew that if they caught her he wouldn't want to go on living anyway. “Damien, Damien.” She kept saying his name, as if it was a lifeline and she was clinging to it. To him it was more than that. When she spoke his name, it gave his life meaning in a way it never had before. Flora loved him, but she didn't need him like Lissa did. “Damien?” She was still stroking his face. He lifted his hand and did the same to her, knowing that he'd never get over the wonder of her actually being there. And knowing that she was counting on him to find a solution to all this. “How are you feeling? Is it better now that you've told me?” “Only a little. I have such a headache.” Her sad smile tugged at his heart like nothing ever had, and he wondered how an evening that had started with such frivolity and laughter had come to this. The highs 208

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and lows of life. They didn't go away just because you found someone to love. “Then lie down, and I'll clean up here. Can I fetch you anything?” “I need a drink of water. Let me come with you.” She wriggled to her feet, sliding against him as she did so. Standing still for a moment and just holding him. “And something to sweeten my mouth. Some mint or parsley from the herb garden.” “All right, then perhaps you can tell me what happened?” He said it lightly, as he imagined one would say it if they were making small talk at a tea party. He wanted to make it as easy as he could for her to tell him. He walked over to the pot and picked it up, pulling a face as he did so. “I fear I'm leading you astray. Should I have stopped you drinking so much?” “Do you feel it is your place to stop me?” “I've never thought about it. Doesn't a woman usually let herself be led by a man's wise counsel?” He ducked as a pillow from the bed sailed past his head. Then he chuckled to himself, wondering at the fact that he could still laugh in the midst of all this tragedy. “That's what I thought you'd say.” **** Alicia rinsed her mouth out with water and spat into the kitchen sink, feeling only a little self-conscious of 209

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Damien’s eyes on her. This was what being close was all about. Not just the nice things, like hugging and kissing and paying pretty compliments. It was tears and vulnerability. Laying yourself bare and trusting that you would be accepted with all your faults and messy insecurities. These times of quiet acceptance spoke more eloquently of love than noisy declarations. She had heard him say she was his love, and, nice though that was, his actions spoke a lot more than words ever could. He'd seen her at her worst and still he was here, catching her and setting her back on her feet. As she would do for him, without question. “Would you like some tea?” he asked. She turned and the room lit up momentarily as he poked at the flames in the range. They cast his face into weird shadow as they flickered. For a split second he was the man from the grave once more, and an icy cold hand seemed to grip at her heart as she imagined him fading away with grief after she'd gone. Hadn't he already tried to kill himself once, unable to face all those lonely years? The thought of all the pain she was surely going to cause made her run across the kitchen and engulf him in such a hug that he was almost caught off balance by it. “It's only a cup of tea.” His tone was light-hearted, but he seemed to know why she was clinging to him so desperately. He put down the kettle and held her just as desperately. “Don’t worry,” he murmured. “These past few weeks have given me more than I ever expected from life. And when has my life ever been normal anyway?” She wasn't reassured by his words. She already knew how much he'd miss her, because it was how much 210

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she'd miss him. They'd both made the mistake of growing attached too soon, and now it was too late. Too late to stand back and say I'm not going to take this risk. I'm not going to love because it might lead to heartache. Love was sneaky. It crept in when you weren't looking and bound you to another, quietly and irrevocably. And by the time you realised it, the knots were so tight that they couldn't be undone without great pain. “What's going to happen to us?” She searched his face for a solution, relieved that the ghostly spectre had been replaced by Damien once more. He sighed, and leaned into her embrace, “Nothing right now. Let's not think about it tonight. Do you want me to come with you?” He indicated the back door, and she remembered that she was supposed to be going to the herb garden “Would you make some tea and bring it out? I need to talk with you, Damien.” He nodded and let her go. While he busied himself with the tea, she picked up a shawl from the chair, unlocked the back door and walked down the stone steps that led to the kitchen garden. It was a clear night and there was enough of a moon to see by. Alex's story still echoed in her mind, and she found herself hurrying as she located the mint and parsley, snapping off a few leaves while looking over her shoulder at imagined shadows flitting about at the edge of her sight. She made a mental note never to touch alcohol again. It played such tricks on the mind. However, it had given Damien the courage to kiss her, so it couldn't be all that bad. But did anything done 211

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under the influence of alcohol mean anything? It had felt real enough, and they hadn't been so drunk that they didn't realise what they were doing. She shook her head and gave up thinking about it. Alcohol or no alcohol, Damien didn't seem the type to do anything without meaning it, so she should stop analysing. Stop trying to find fault, and instead appreciate the good in this situation. Appreciate the fact that she had found love at last, and that was all that mattered. When she turned around, he was standing in the doorway, holding the tea and peering hesitantly into the night. She watched him take a breath then step over the threshold, standing for a moment, before carefully placing the cups down and sitting on the top step. Wrapping her shawl around her shoulders, she made her way back to him. It was odd to think that something as simple as going outside, a thing she did without hesitation, should be so difficult for someone. He didn't look very relaxed as he sat there, arms folded and resting on his knees. He unfolded them as she approached and made to stand up. She stopped him. “Stay there. I’ll sit with you, I want to tell you what happened.” Damien let his knees fall apart and beckoned her over. “Sit here, then. Did you get what you wanted?” Alicia settled herself on the step below him and leaned back. Damien’s arms slipped over her shoulders as she did so, not unlike Crosbie had done on the night he'd shown her the painting. She couldn’t stop herself from tensing slightly. “Do you want me to move them?” 212

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“No, leave them there. It's just a bad memory, that's all. Replace it with a good one for me?” His hands squeezed her shoulders lightly. “All our memories will be good ones, Lissa. Tell me. I want to know. Did someone hurt you?” “Yes and no.” Where did she begin in all this? Did he need to know everything? Being a man, perhaps Damien would have sympathy for Crosbie. Perhaps he would think she did lead him on? Better to tell him everything and let him make his own judgement. Alicia tipped her head back, looking up at the night sky – and at Damien, who was staring at some object in the distance. His hair needed cutting. She would do that for him tomorrow. His thighs felt warm and solid where her arms rested, and she could feel his chest rising and falling as he breathed. He was an anchor, holding her down when she would have floated away on a sea of her own despair. But for tonight. life was simple. They were two people in love, simply being with each other. For a moment she imagined never moving from this spot. Sitting here forever with him holding her, just as he was now. And in a hundred years time they might still be sitting here, and people would talk in quiet whispers of the ghosts of the star-crossed lovers who haunted the garden. Of a love so true that it transcended time itself. “Lissa?” She shook herself, shaking off the spooky images that were invading her mind, and accepted the tea Damien was offering her. She took a sip, wrapping her hands around the warmth of the cup. He wasn't pushing her to begin but she knew she needed to. Knew he was waiting to find out just what he'd let himself in for, so he could 213

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help her find a way out of this nightmare. She desperately needed him to do that for her, because she couldn't think for herself any more. Her head was throbbing. Once he knew everything, he'd have a solution and they'd live happily ever after. Wouldn't they? She tried to believe it. Tried to convince herself, but the more she tried, the more she realised just how hopeless their situation really was. **** “I was quite smitten with Crosbie. I thought him the most handsome and sophisticated man I'd ever met. It turned my head. I wanted him to notice me so much that it made me blind to his true nature, until it was too late. I was flattered by his attentions – and that makes me very vain and frivolous.” Alicia stopped, as if she had come to the end of her tale, but then added quietly, “I think I deserve my punishment.” “No, don't say that. I can imagine that evil can disguise itself quite well when it wants to. You were not to know what he was like.” Damien had hardly moved as she'd spoken, not wanting to distract her. Now he needed to say something, he realised. Something that would give her courage. That had been, after all, the purpose of this confession. She was telling him all this because she wanted him to do something about it. “We'll run away,” he said. “Go north. I have an estate there, somewhere in Lancashire.” “And how far would we get?” Alicia raised her head from his thigh. He urged it down again, smoothing a hand over her hair. Wanting to make this right for her. It hadn't been such a dreadful tale, after all. Self-defence, really. The worst part had been the irrational twinge of 214

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jealousy he'd felt when she'd told him that Crosbie had touched her and kissed her. The bastard sounded as if he'd deserved everything that had happened to him Damien knew he could never be objective in this, and that whatever she'd told him, he'd have excused it and would have supported her. But what if it had been something truly dreadful, like a child or one of her family whose death she had been responsible for? Then it would not have been so easy to dismiss. He would have had to pause and consider and make difficult decisions. Luckily, it was just useless Crosbie who’d assaulted her, and who’d died quite accidentally anyway. No real blame lay with Lissa. “You've travelled to America and back. Surely it would be nothing to travel to the north of England?” “It's true, I have travelled with Aunt Joan, but she has a lifetime of experience. We are a couple of innocents, Damien. We would need money and transport, and you would have to be careful about going outside. And we would probably be robbed before we'd got across Dartmoor. Alex would help us, but I cannot think that Evan will, and we would need someone like him on our side.” Damien's spirits slid slowly into his boots at her words. He'd thought the hard part would be having to listen to what she told him, but that had been easy. It had seemed quite logical to him that all they had to do was run away, put distance between them and Devon, and everything would be well. But she'd obviously been expecting a better plan than that, judging by the disappointment in her tone. He must have sounded to her like a naive idiot. 215

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She undoubtedly spoke the truth. Escaping the law would be difficult even for a man of the world, let alone for one as sheltered as he'd been. What chance would he have of getting her out of Devon, let alone of crossing the hundreds of miles to Rossendale? “Do you have any money, Damien?” Lissa’s voice was very small. As if she already knew what his answer was going to be. He moved his hand from her hair and picked up his tea, feeling totally inadequate as he drank it down. Waves of self-pity washed over him. She'd almost made it sound as if he would be a liability to her in this. And who could blame her for thinking that? When he'd finished drinking, he slammed the cup down so hard on the stone step that it broke in two. It made her sit up and twist herself around, looking at him with concern. He couldn't look back at her and instead clenched his jaw and turned his head so she wouldn't see how hopeless he felt. Loving someone until your heart ached with it obviously wasn't enough. Everything wasn't going to be all right just because he said it would be - he was fooling himself if he thought that. But he obviously wasn't fooling her. “Damien?” Lissa turned herself completely around, kneeling on the step in front of him, tugging at his face. Forcing him to look at her. He tried to cover his face with his hand, afraid that he was going to cry. She wouldn't let him.

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“Shall I cut this for you tomorrow?” She threaded her fingers into his soft hair, combing it back for him. He shivered as her hand caressed him. “It's far too long for fashionable society.” “I'm sorry, Lissa.” He caught her wrist and stopped her. “I'm sorry if you don't think I can protect you.” She went very still and looked at him long and hard, her expression sad and wistful. “I don't think that.” Her hand went to continue its combing, but he held her still. “Did you hear me? I'm just a hopeless drunk with fanciful notions of things I have no hope of delivering. You should run away now. Take some things of value from the house and sell them. Use the money to employ a good lawyer. From what you tell me, it was selfdefence anyway. I'll only be a hindrance to you.” Lissa shook her head. He squeezed her hand even tighter, pulling her against him. “I've got a bag of silver sixpences in my room. One for every Christmas until I was fifteen, when I realised that I would never be going anywhere to spend them, so why the hell was Evan giving them to me anyway? You can have them. It's all the cash I've got.” His voice broke again as he remembered the day he'd told Evan not to give him any more. The day he'd realised that his life was going nowhere. “I had such plans for that money. I was going to travel the world and find a cure for this thing that's wrong with me. I was going to be a proper man. Then I could have helped you.”

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He was frightening her. Could see it in her startled eyes so close to his, and he wondered when the conversation had suddenly become about him. She needed his help and all he could do was dissolve into a sad pathetic heap in front of her. But he needed these tears and couldn't hold them any longer. He'd sat stoically by and watched her and thought about her and worried about her. He'd worked himself into a frenzy over that kiss. Imagined what it would be like to take her to bed her and make love to her until they were both breathless with wanting. Now, having heard her story, he was more scared than he'd ever been. More than ever he needed to be strong for her. Her anxious eyes told him that. Instead, all he could do was grab hold of her, press his face against her shoulder and cry out all his fear and frustration and inadequacy. But, in between the tears, he managed to get out something that he had to tell her. Even if now was not the best time. “I love you, Lissa, Alicia – whoever you are.” His arms tightened around her as he told her, meaning it more than he'd ever meant anything. “God, I love you so much.” **** Alicia tried to focus above the pounding in her head. Damien was still telling her that he loved her, but more quietly now, murmuring it softly under his breath. His breathing seemed to be returning to normal. She'd had her tears and now it was his turn, so she held him and comforted him the best she could, telling him that she 218

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was sorry she'd hurt his feelings and he'd done nothing but his best for her. Bit by bit he calmed down until he at last lifted his head and wiped the back of his hand across his eyes. “Not very helpful,” He murmured. Although Damien looked embarrassed by his display, Alicia could see him settling once more, as if the tears had been a release of sorts and now he was able to think rationally again. She could feel the panic receding and the calm returning. “Do you feel better now?” He nodded, his grin more like a grimace, but at least he was trying. “I don't know what happened.” He shook his head, as if there was something he couldn't quite believe. “It was us I felt sorry for, but it took the memory of that stupid bag of sixpences to make me cry.” He looked at her as if he needed her to explain it to him. “Why should that be?” “It's often the case, Damien.” She knew exactly what he meant, because it had happened to her. Things would build and build but it was often something trivial and seemingly inconsequential that triggered the release of emotion. “Just an emotional memory, that's all. Will you show the sixpences to me?” “They won't get you very far.” He laughed at that, but there was no humour in it. And, even though he'd lifted his head, he was still holding her to him as if she was going to disappear there and then. “I'm not going anywhere, my love. Not without you.” 219

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He stilled and searched her face for evidence that he'd heard her right. “Yes, I did say my love. You heard me correctly, Damien. I don't know when I started falling in love with you. You are a very easy person to love, Damien.” “Say it again.” “I love you, Damien, and I'm sorry about what I said. I didn't mean to make you feel unworthy. I've had far too much wine and brandy, and it was possibly the worst time to be having this conversation. Now I have such a headache.” “And here am I crying all over you and making it worse.” He stood and she let him pull her up, her legs stiff from kneeling. “Come, let's get you to bed. We'll think of a solution tomorrow. There has to be one.” “I think you are right. Things will look better in the morning, when we're not so drunk.” She followed him into the house and watched him lock the back door. Then he took her hand. “I am already not so drunk, so I have no excuse for that display out there. I was feeling sorry for myself when I should have been feeling sorry for you.” “It is quite normal to feel like that. We have both had our moment of panic, I think?” “Perhaps.” “I have every faith that you will do your very best for me.” 220

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She couldn't see him very well in the darkness. The candle had gone out and the range had burned down to embers. He led her along the corridor with the practised ease of one who was familiar with every corner of the house, and stopped them both at her bedroom door. There was a long silence, during which Alicia's heart felt as if it was beating so loudly she felt sure he could hear it. “Shall I say goodnight, then?” He didn't sound as if he wanted to go, more as if he was saying it because he felt he should. “No.” She was surprised that she'd found enough voice to say it with. Reaching behind her she opened the bedroom door and backed into it, drawing him in with her. He closed it behind him and she heard his breathing become a little erratic as he waited. “I have something else to tell you, and then will you just hold me and stay with me tonight? I think we need to hold on to each other right now. I just need to feel you near me.” “I can do that for you.” He stepped forward and pulled her against him. “If you have never been drunk before, I have to tell you that you're going to feel even worse than this in the morning.” “Worse than this? Oh no.” She tried to inject a little light-heartedness into her tone, but she couldn't help feeling a slight wave of panic at the discomfort that the dreaded hangover was going to bring. “Come then, let's go to bed. I find that I’m suddenly and sorely in need of that sleep you keep talking about.” 221

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“I've had a lot of experience in these matters.” He led her over to the bed and then neither of them seemed to know what to do next. She climbed up and took off her shoes. Damien just stood there as if waiting for her to make the next move, so she threw back the quilt and lay down. Then she felt the bed creak as he climbed up and moved towards her. She was still fullydressed, which was probably appropriate for their first time together. Feeling ill as she was, she couldn't imagine anything happening anyway. She reached out her arms as he lay down beside her, and there was some shifting and accommodating as they both got comfortable. “Do you still have your boots on?” “Umm.” She felt him sit up and fumble with them, dropping them one by one over the side of the bed. He lay down again and they both wriggled back into position. “Sorry about that. I'm a little nervous.” “Of what?” “Of what else you're going to say. And doing this with you. It means a lot, Lissa. It's just one more step along the way.” “Oh, Damien, you weren't expecting...” “No, no, it's better this way. We may not have much time, but I want to learn everything about you. It will mean more if we go slowly.” “But you will want to..?” 222

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“Only If you do.” “I do, Damien, but you are right. There is too much emotion tonight and I would not want you to think I was doing it just because I wanted you to help me.” She moved herself a little closer to him, feeling his hair tickling her cheek and remembering all the things Wendy had told her about the marriage bed. She wanted to do all those things with Damien. Wanted him to induce those wicked feelings that genteel young ladies were not supposed to have. And she wanted to do the same for him. She'd already felt how he reacted whenever she touched his hair or stroked her finger along his arm. Saw how he looked at her when she wore these loose, revealing gowns. It thrilled her to know that there was so much more that she could do for him. They could learn together, but not tonight. “Damien, you need to relax, or neither of us is going to sleep.” “Sorry.” She felt him let out a deep breath as if he was making a conscious effort to let go. “Is that better?” “A little.” They lay quietly for a while and then she must have shivered or given him an indication that she was cold, because he reached over and pulled the quilt across them both. She remembered that she still had something to tell him. “Damien. We'll always be honest with each other, won't we?” 223

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“I hope so. Why do you ask?” “Because when I first met you I wasn't entirely honest with you.” “Oh, and how was that?” He didn't sound shocked or surprised at her words, almost as if he'd gone beyond any sort of emotional response whatsoever. “I thought that if I flattered you, and pretended to be helpless, you would look after me.” “I know.” “You knew? Then why did you not say anything?” “Because I wanted your attention, whatever your motive. I just wanted you.” “You have me, Damien, burden that I am. So, we will always be honest with each other from now on?” “Yes, but that means I too have to make a confession.” “You do?” “I fear that I misled you about Miss Abigail.” “You did?” “She wasn't dying of consumption at all.” “I'm glad to hear that. And I suppose the pigs couldn't dance, either?” “No, I made that bit up.” 224

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“And the bear?” “Him too.” “No matter.” She felt herself drifting off as he relaxed, vaguely hoping that they would wake up before Flora found them tomorrow morning. “Damien, stop worrying. Your secret is safe with me.” She felt him tensing again and couldn't suppress a giggle. Who'd have thought he would have found a simple romantic novel a source of so much embarrassment? And who would have thought that tonight would have ended like this? He was right in saying that everything they did was another step in their relationship. They wouldn't always go forward – sometimes it was necessary to take a step back just so they could have a clearer look at the path – but every day they would go that bit further in love and understanding, and together they would face the future. Together they'd work out what to do and, even if it did end in tragedy, they'd have known this. It was already more than she could ever have imagined having.

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Chapter 17 Damien slept very little - the warm body snuggled against his proving far too much of a distraction for him to properly relax. Shifting positions didn't seem to help, since, every time he moved, Lissa moved with him and, although they’d agreed that nothing else was going to happen tonight, his body didn't seem to have been listening. It was crying out for a completion of the night's activities. For the logical conclusion to the kiss. He squeezed his eyes closed and started counting sheep, but they kept turning into young ladies who laughed and gave him coquettish smiles as they skipped past him one by one, calling his name and daring him to follow. He opened his eyes again, shaking his head to clear the images, and thought that this possibly hadn't been such a good idea. Last night he'd been the one to say they should go slow. Now he was beginning to suspect that being a man in this situation was a lot more difficult than he'd imagined it would be. And to make things worse, his mind, too, was proving impossible to quieten as it grappled with the problem of what to do about Lissa's predicament. He was a lord, yet he enjoyed none of the privilege and influence his position should have afforded him. And he was a wealthy man, but he had no money. It should have been easy for him to help her, yet even the simple task of sending Alex and Flora out to sell valuables from the house filled him with misgivings. They would probably be cheated of their value anyway, as neither of them had any idea how much anything was worth, and might even be accused of stealing the items and end up in trouble themselves. And the thought of going himself was even more alarming. 226

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Then there was the problem of keeping all this from Evan. He would be bound to notice anything out of the ordinary, and who knew what the consequences of that might be? It was all too much. Damien gently extracted himself from Lissa's embrace and slipped from the bed. Retrieving his boots from where he'd dropped them, he tiptoed from the room. Before he'd gone very far he remembered the books he'd left on the floor, and the wine and brandy bottles, so he put down his boots and went back to clear away the offending articles, well imagining what Flora would say if she found them there in the morning. Lissa was still snoring lightly and didn't seem to have noticed his absence. When he'd calmed himself down, perhaps with some time spent writing, he'd go back. He needed to make sure he woke up in good time to avoid Flora finding him there. Everything was so complicated. It seemed at this point that there was to be no in-between. In just a few weeks he'd gone from a life so boring he wanted to die of it, to a life so full his head hurt from it all. So many new experiences, and the problems that came with them. He'd always happily abdicated responsibility to Evan. Now it seemed that for the first time in his life he was going to have to think for himself because others depended on him. Carrying a candle from his bedroom, he made his way down the stairs to light it at the range. He then filled a large mug with water and made his way back to his room. Writing everything down might help. Surely an answer to the problem would present itself once he could see it all in black and white? There had to be a solution. They just hadn't thought of it yet. 227

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**** The room was gently swinging from side to side. Alicia blinked, letting her eyes became accustomed to the darkness and the odd shadows caused by the pale moonlight shining through the unshuttered windows. She rolled onto her side, patting the mattress where Damien should have been. Finding an empty space, she wondered if she'd dreamed the events of last night and she hadn't actually told him all about Crosbie, or got herself drunk and been very sick. When she sat up she realised that at least the last part must have happened, for her head felt as if it was going to split in two, and her mouth felt as if she had been trying to swallow sand. And now she was sure there was something or someone in the room. If it wasn't Damien, then who was it? Alex's headless ghost story flitted into her mind and, once there, refused to leave. It was silly, but she could have sworn that she’d just seen a shadowy figure walk right in front of the bed. If it had been Damien, then surely he would have said something? A feeling of panic overtook her, making her slide from the bed and run to the door, looking over her shoulder the whole time as she imagined the spectre following her. She managed to close the door without making too much noise, leaning against in an effort to calm her breathing. A sound on the stairs caused her to look up. In a state of panic, Alicia was already convinced there were ghosts everywhere. The headless ghost behind her and her overactive imagination was fast building an image of the horrible thing that was coming up the stairs, so that when she saw it was only Damien carrying a candle and a mug she still couldn't help stifling a 228

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scream and turning to run away. It took a few moments to register that it was only him, and it was the candlelight that made him look so strange. “Lissa, what's wrong?” he whispered, moving towards her with a look of concern on his face. “Did I scare you?” “Me?” Alicia's hand went to her chest and she attempted a small laugh, feeling more than a little foolish. “Of course not. I just wondered where you'd gone.” “I'm sorry I left you. I couldn't sleep and I though I'd disturb you.” He narrowed his eyes and peered at her. “Are you sure you're all right? You look a little flushed. Are you going to be sick again?” “No, no.” Alicia moved closer to him, glancing nervously over her shoulder. “Are you coming back to bed?” “I was going to do some writing.” He transferred the mug to the hand that was holding the candle and held out his other arm to her. “Come here, you silly thing. You were scared.” “No, I wasn't.” She moved against him, letting him slip an arm around her shoulder, feeling safe once more next to his familiar warmth. “Well, all right, maybe just a little.” She looked up at him anxiously. “Damien, I think that room is haunted after all.” He leaned in close and gave a low chuckle. “Then you'd better come with me and I'll protect you from whatever it is.” His bedroom door opened and she felt him drawing her inside, the light from the single candle creating an intimate glow. He pulled her closer as she quickened her pace to keep up with him. 229

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“I wouldn't have left you if I'd known you were going to wake up. You know it's just a story, don't you?” She leaned against him, using him as a rock to hold on to as the room spun slowly around. “Can I have some of your water?” “Of course.” He watched her drink, then took the mug and set it down on his desk. “Alex should never have said anything. He has such a big mouth.” “That’s not fair, Damien. After all, you did not tell the truth about Miss Abigail. But you tell a pretty tale. When are you going to show me some of your work?” She looked up as he accepted her rebuke with a small smile, and it already felt so natural to be here doing this with him. They seemed to move together as if they were made for each other. Touching, giving and taking, flowing without awkwardness or embarrassment. She was struck by a sudden and overwhelming need to hold to this gift and never let it go. As Alicia looked at Damien she couldn't have said what it was that really drew them together. Yes, he had those external things she had always thought would be important, and was fast realising were not. Good looks, money, power – they could be as intoxicating as wine to an impressionable young girl, but with Damien they were totally irrelevant. Wendy’s words echoed in her ears. She would have married Oswald had he been a pauper on the street. Now she knew exactly what her cousin been trying to tell her. Everything she loved about Damien was here in her arms. The touch, taste and smell of him. The way his chest rose and fell as her nearness made him breathe a little faster. The small noises he made when she rubbed her cheek against his shirt. They could have been standing in the middle of the moors, both of 230

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them dressed in rags, or huddled together in some tiny cottage somewhere, and it would have made no difference. The things she loved about him would still be there. “So, are you going to show me any of your poetry? For that is what you write, is it not?” she teased him gently, swaying against him as he moved with her. Knowing that just then she had him in the palm of her hand, and that he would have willingly done anything she said. He matched her rhythm, sliding his arms around her back, dropping them lower so she was caught up against him. “If you’d like me to. But I warn you, it's not very good.” They were both whispering now, their world narrowing down to just the two of them and the feel of what they were doing. It would be easy to carry on, lose themselves in each other. Slow or fast, what did it matter as long as they took the right steps along the way? And all those consequences of doing this didn't seem to matter any more. What did it matter if she was spoiled for any other man? She would never want anyone else after this. And what would it matter if she became pregnant with his child? They would both love it and welcome it into their world. “So do you want to see something I've written?” He'd pulled back a little, leaving her staring at him, dazed and realising how far her mind had wandered, and that her head was hurting far too much to do this now, anyway. His hands slid up her back to her shoulders, lightly caressing. “You do such things to me, Lissa,” he whispered. “If we start something now, you know we won't stop.” 231

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“I know.” Alicia nodded, her gaze fixed on his face. “It's a good thing you are so noble.” “I am, aren't I?” He gave a small grin at that then became serious again. “Tell me I'm doing the right thing. You deserve better than to be taken advantage of by the lord of the manor.” “Not even if I want to be?” “You do?” Damien closed his eyes momentarily. “God, this is so confusing. I want you so much it hurts, yet something is stopping me and I don't know what it is. I thought this was going to be simpler than this.” “Is this why you left earlier?” Alicia shivered a little, as much from what he was still doing with his hands as the chilliness of the room. He noticed and turned her towards his bed. “Get under the quilt and warm yourself up. I'll show you my novel.” “I’d like that,” she said, and climbed up to wriggle herself under the comforter that smelled of him. This room is a lot nicer than mine, she thought, looking around, even though it was darker and shabbier and a great deal messier, with his piles of books and papers stacked everywhere. The furniture wasn't nearly as grand, but it had a cosy, lived-in feel and, of course, no ghosts. This was where she'd spent her first night at the mansion, wearing the dress that had been covered with Crosbie's blood, and where she'd watched Damien sleeping in the rocking chair. “Come back to bed,” she called to him softly, while he rummaged about in the drawer of his desk for the book. 232

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He looked up momentarily, then found what he was looking for and walked back over to her. A tingle of anticipation rippled through her body as she watched him approach. It seemed somehow more fitting that she was in his bed. More as if she belonged to him, her soon-to-be- lover. If only they could get past this barrier that was holding them back. Perhaps it was that they were expecting too much too soon? After all, they'd only just kissed, and in the real world there would have been a long and formal ritual of courtship and engagement and chaperones, and the only time they would have contemplated doing anything like this would have been in the marriage bed. Damien sat down beside her and Alicia contemplated what the next step to be. Remembering Wendy’s description of what happened in the marriage bed caused her face to flush and Damien to look at her questioningly and lean over to trail his finger across her hot cheek. She nodded at the book, piling up the pillows behind her and wondered if she'd ever be able to pluck up the courage to ask him to touch her in the way she wanted him to. She couldn't rely on alcohol to give her courage every time. Not if it made her feel like this. He moved in very close to her and leaned back against the pillows, his thighs brushing hers. She felt his arm slide around her back. “So, what is it about?” She tried to look, but he shielded the page with his hand. “Before I tell you, I have to ask you a question Do you believe in love at first sight?” She nodded slowly in answer. “I think so. After all, I knew you were someone special when I first saw you. I 233

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may not have recognised it as love, but I think that is what it was. Do you?” “Yes.” He said it with great conviction and without hesitation. “You completely overwhelmed me when I first saw you. I just wanted to take you home and never let you go. I'm glad you feel the same.” He dropped a swift kiss onto the top of her head and moved his hand from the page. “Because it means you're going to like this story.” **** “I suppose this is who I should have liked to have been in another life, Damien said looking up from the book. “Gregor. The fearless vampire. Who thumbs his nose at society. Who is brave and strong and who, of course, gets the beautiful maiden. All the things I was not, and didn't have.” “But you got the maiden, Damien.” Lissa snuggled even closer, completely enraptured by the romantic tale of The Huntress and the Vampire. “I can imagine you would be very brave if you needed to be. It's not your fault you've never had to face that challenge.” Until now, Damien thought to himself. If there was any capacity for bravery in him, he had a very strong feeling that it was going to be called upon in the next few weeks. “Was it really love at first sight?” Alicia ran her finger down the page, squinting in the dim light. “From the moment he set eyes on her in the tavern.”

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“But I thought you said he wanted to kill her at first?” Lissa skimmed her finger down the page. “Here he's watching her from the balcony. Looking for her weaknesses.” “Ahh, yes. But it all becomes clear when you have read the whole story. Sometimes you need to be at the end of something before you realise what the whole thing is about. Looking back can give you a very different perspective. Do you not agree?” “I do, Damien. When I first saw Crosbie I thought him the most wonderful person on Earth, but it is such a sorry saga on reflection. So you must tell me how this story ends. Do not leave me in suspense. Is the huntress Gregor's salvation?” Damien gave a small chuckle and closed the book. “Now that would be telling. And like all good storytellers, I shall leave you wanting more. Perhaps tomorrow - if you are very good.” What on earth made me say that? he thought. It sounded rather... Well, he didn't quite know how it sounded, but Lissa picked up on it immediately. “I can be good now.” The little-girl voice and the finger trailing slowly down his thigh sent such a swift message to his groin that it took him by surprise and he jumped. “Umm...I didn't mean.” He squirmed uncomfortably as her finger made its way back up again, stopping her with his own hand on hers when she got dangerously close. Lissa was giggling, and he wondered how aware she was of what she was doing to him. Whether she knew what she'd encounter if she went any higher. He wasn't 235

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anywhere as innocent as she appeared to be, despite her experience with Crosbie. Damien had read widely on the subject, seen drawings, some of which did look a little exaggerated, but at least it gave him an idea of what to expect. It put quite a burden on him to get it right for her when they finally decided to take the plunge. Then the thought crossed his mind that maybe she did know something. Perhaps women talked among themselves of these matters, and he wouldn't come up to her expectations. Performance anxiety was not a pleasant feeling at all. “Don't be mean, Damien.” She made another, unsuccessful grab at the book. “Do they live happily ever after?” “You need to get some sleep. Your head must be hurting.” “I do, and it is, but I want to know.” Lissa folded her arms and sat up, her face set and a pout on her lips. Damien stared at her in fascination. He only had to lean a little closer and he could take that pouting bottom lip between his own and nibble and suck on it. The way she was sticking it out was almost an invitation. Would she like that? He already knew he'd like it if she did it to him. “I think you're very horrid for not telling me.” She shot him a glare, which appeared rather half-hearted in nature, and then reverted to wheedling her way round him again. “I'd be very grateful.” He liked this. The promises. The building tension. The sexual banter. At least, he thought it was sexual, since 236

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that's how it was affecting him. He responded in kind, feeling very powerful at that moment. She wanted something from him - something in his power to grant but he was going to extract a price for it. “How grateful?” “Very grateful.” She leaned in and gave him a hopeful smile, her hand moving slowly towards the book on his lap. “No you don't. Please be more specific.” He stopped her again, still fixated on her lips. He was going to kiss her again tonight, if only he could pluck up the courage to do it without the benefit of the effects of alcohol. “Well, I'd...I'd...” She stopped and thought for a moment. “You could kiss me again.” “Before I read on?” “No. Do I look that foolish? First read the ending, then you can kiss me.” “But what if I read it and you change your mind? Where would that leave me?” “I will not change my mind.” She suddenly looked most concerned. “Please don’t tell me this has an unhappy ending. I couldn't bear that, especially since you and Gregor are supposed to be one.” “Very clever, Lissa, but I’m not telling until I get my payment.” He could be just as stubborn as she could. Years of refusing Flora's porridge had taught him that skill. 237

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“You are very wicked, Damien. All right, take your kiss, but do not move my head about too much as it hurts so.” She assumed a pose, her lips pursed and her eyes closed. Damien did nothing. Should he really be forcing her to do this if she still felt dreadful? Surely he could wait until she felt better? But, then again, why waste this wonderful opportunity. He leaned towards her. “Open your eyes,” he murmured, his lips a mere hair's breadth away from hers. “I want you to look at me when I kiss you.” Her eyes flew open, slightly startled at his request, and they remained so as his lips brushed against hers. He took pity on her hung-over state and didn't press her for more than that. Just a feather-light touch against her soft flesh, and a light grazing of his teeth over that bottom lip he'd been fantasising about. It lasted only seconds, but, like the touch of her finger on his thigh, it got him so wildly excited he had to pull back before it became too late to stop. And besides, he was cheating on the bargain. He had no intention of showing her the ending of the book. Not yet, anyway. So it wouldn't be honourable to claim the kiss he'd really wanted from her. There was a far more interesting part of the story to read to her. Damien had discovered his father’s collection of lewd books at an early age and no one had noticed him working his way through the collection. That knowledge had inspired him to write a particularly racy scene in his own novel. He wondered how much Alicia knew of sexual matters and suddenly it seemed important that he was the more knowledgeable. .

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It had to be an issue of male pride, he supposed. Then he realised that, if they were out in the world, he'd have to do other things – like impress her with his manliness and fight off other suitors. At least here he had no competition and he didn't have to stand shoulder-toshoulder with another man and be compared to him and perhaps be found lacking. There was Alex, but he didn't really count. Or did he? Lissa seemed to have built up a good rapport with Alex since she'd arrived. Surprising, since Alex had always been difficult to get close to and didn't give his friendship easily. Damnation, this jealousy was an unwanted and very uncomfortable feeling. Damien had experienced it when she'd told him about Crosbie, and now he was being jealous of Alex? Then a thought came into his mind that was so startling, and so sudden, he felt his hands shaking as he turned the page and the implications sunk in. It wasn't exactly the answer to all their problems, but it might go some way towards alleviating this most pressing one. And it would make him the happiest man on Earth. So he would read the piece. See what reaction he got, then be prepared to take the next step. He was ready for this. It was the most certain that he'd felt about anything, ever. **** Alicia almost couldn't believe what she was hearing. Her eyes had become progressively larger as Damien's hypnotic voice read the scene to her. She had to confess to seeing Damien in a new light as he described in very vivid detail how Gregor and the Huntress had first made love. How did he know all these things? The emotion 239

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that underlay the touching and kissing. And that other, physical, thing. She had heard the expression making love and had always assumed it to have been used in the context of a man paying court to a woman. What she was hearing now brought a new meaning to the phrase. Forgetting her headache, she became caught up with Gregor and the Huntress climaxing in ecstasy and losing themselves in each other. She found herself swallowing hard as her mind made the logical leap from Gregor to Damien. Gregor was Damien, and Damien was Gregor. They were just two facets of the same person who merged and separated, each coming to the fore when needed. So, Damien hadn't needed his Gregor side very much until now, but he would, and soon, if she had anything to do with it. “Where did you learn such things?” Even as she said it, she prayed inwardly that he wasn't going to suddenly spring a parade of mistresses or encounters with ladies of dubious reputation on her. She couldn't bear that. Damien had had to contend with Crosbie's ghost, but she found herself strangely unwilling to have to do the same for him. “From books.” He was still using the low seductive pitch his voice had dropped to as the scene had progressed. “You may have noticed that I read a lot.” The room had suddenly become very warm. He had suddenly become very warm, and the line of his body where it pressed against hers seemed to hum and throb where it touched her. “Are you shocked? Lissa, Alicia. Which do you prefer?”

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“I don't mind either.” She almost had to shake her head to clear the haze that was descending. It was just as Wendy had said, only more. Had her cousin experienced the same passion with Oswald that Gregor had with the Huntress? Would she, Lissa, experience it with Damien? Damien’s fingers were drawing idle circles on her shoulder through the thin fabric of her dress. It made her shiver, and not just because it felt so good. Now she what knew those hands were capable of. Even if he was only versed in theory up till now, she guessed he would be a fast learner. After all, he'd only kissed her twice, yet he'd already managed to leave her breathless and panting for more. And she did want more. How could he think to read her such things and not have her want to do them with him? “I’m not shocked. It sounds very beautiful - doing that with someone you love.” She was having trouble breathing and speaking, and she could hear his heart beating just a little too fast as she leaned her head against his chest. He was feeling it too. “I think it will be very beautiful when we do.” He reached an arm over the side of the bed and let the book drop, then in one fluid movement brought it back and around her, rolling them both across the bed so that he was lying on top of her, his hands pinning hers as they rested on each side of her head. For a moment they both stared at each other and Alicia felt one wild moment of wonderful panic, first at the suddenness of his movement, then at the realisation that he was going to kiss her again. This time she knew he wouldn’t hold back or be gentlemanly about it. She didn't want him to. He was squashing the breath out of her. She didn't care. And he was looking at her as if he could read her very 241

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thoughts. She wanted him to. Wanted him to see all the love and the desire she felt for him. When she wriggled her body against his he groaned at the intimate contact, and when she struggled to free her hands he held them in his gentle grip. Alicia relaxed herself as best she could, allowing him to take charge. His head dipped towards hers, but he didn't immediately kiss her lips as she'd expected. Instead she felt his tongue gently tracing the line of her wrist where her pulse jerked and skittered. She twisted her head, vainly trying to see what he was doing and to get him to kiss her mouth. “Patience, my love.” Damien leaned his face against the side of her head and whispered close to her ear, which he then started to nibble gently. His hot breath warmed her and made her squirm. From there he worked his way to her mouth, leaving a line of feather-like kisses across her cheek before moving upward to give the same treatment to her eyelids. All the while she lay beneath him, quivering with the excitement of it all. When he finally reached her mouth she sighed with gratitude that he was there at last and she wouldn't have to go mad with the waiting and the wanting. When he let her hands go she took the opportunity to bring them around the back of his head and anchor him firmly to her so that he couldn't pull away. Forcing him to intensify the kiss and bringing him even closer to her. She didn't know you could use your whole body in a kiss. His lips were working their frantic magic on her mouth, his tongue exploring every corner, wrapping itself around her own tongue as they worked out for themselves how this should be done. His hands were working a separate magic as they moved over her body, 242

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exploring the line of her hips, dipping into the curve of her waist and moving higher. He pulled away momentarily, causing her to arch up towards him in an effort to claim him back. He silenced her with a finger laid across her mouth and shifted off her slightly. “Shh, I want to look at you.” She nodded in understanding, letting her hands drop back beside her head. Telling him silently that she was hiding nothing from him. His hand started to move once more, with agonising slowness, stopping just below the curve of her breast, which he gazed at intently before looking at her as if asking permission to continue. She licked her lips and nodded, unable to speak even if she'd wanted to. Her breath caught in her throat when his thumb lightly grazed the underside. “Does that feel good?” She nodded, more vigorously this time, afraid that he'd stop his insistent caress if she didn't show him how much she was enjoying this. Just as she thought it couldn't get any better, his head dipped toward her again, and this time his hot mouth seared a path down her neck to the tops of her breasts, which were straining against the scooped-neck of her gown. He kissed his way from one to the other, leaving a heated trail which matched the liquid heat that was building between her thighs. His hair lightly tickling as it brushed against her, and his hand still massaging gently. He lifted his head again, biting at his bottom lip as he contemplated her. “We were meant to be together, weren't we?” She managed a small “Yes, always”, wondering why he'd hesitated and become so serious all of a sudden. When 243

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she tried to pull him down to her once more, he stopped her. “Alicia, Lissa – I want to say something.” “Anything, Damien.” She brought her hand up and smoothed back the hair hanging across his face. “What is it?” The confident seducer was gone, and shy Damien was back. He propped himself on an elbow and gazed down at her. “We can't go any further. It wouldn't be right.” She couldn't stop the disappointed “Oh” that escaped her lips. Why had he kissed her like that if he had no intention of taking her further? She really thought he'd changed his mind about going slowly when he'd attacked her so passionately. What had she done wrong? Her head was so full of questions, she almost didn't hear that he was still talking. “Lissa, did you hear me? I said ‘Will you marry me?’ I want to do this properly and make an honest woman of you. Then I'm going to make love to you until you can't think straight any more. What do you say?” It took a few moments for the words to register. He still wanted her. He wanted to marry her? She wanted to shout “Yes”, but she was so overwhelmed, she couldn't say the word. All she could manage was to nod her head and pull him down to her. “Is that a yes?” His voice was muffled against her chest. “Yes, yes, yes, of course I'll marry you.” 244

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“You will? Oh, Lissa…” “But you are a lord, Damien.” The thought suddenly struck her that he was far above her in social station and perhaps he hadn’t thought of that. “And it makes no difference,” he said firmly. Taking her hand, he stared intently into her face. “Tell me again that you will.” Alicia grinned wickedly. “Of course I’ll marry you. Nothing would make me happier. But only on one condition.” He flopped beside her and turned his head towards her. “Anything, my love. God, you've made me so happy.” “The condition is that you mustn't make me wait for the lovemaking.” She turned her face to his. “Did you think you could do all that to me and then just stop? You have hidden talents, Damien. I intend to find out all about them.” “And so you shall, my love. Tomorrow I shall find you a ring and we will become formally engaged. Then I think I'd like to make love to you. Does that satisfy you?” “Not tonight, then?” She tried for a sulky look, but all that came out was a loud yawn. “Oops, sorry about that,” she said. “I think I need to go back to sleep.” “Shall I take you back to your room?” “No.” She snuggled sleepily into the quilt, already relaxing. “I don't like that room. I want to stay here.”

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Damien leaned across and blew out the candle and she felt him settle himself against her. “I'll take you back before Flora wakes up.” “Thank you, Damien.” She gave a sigh and let her eyes drift closed. “Damien.” “Hmm?” “Why did you kiss me like that if you weren't going to go any further?” “I just wanted to make sure you'd say yes to my question, that's all.” “I would have said yes anyway.” “I know, but it was a lot more fun that way. Shall we go to sleep?” “Will it make tomorrow come any quicker?” “Yes.” “All right then, but it's your turn tomorrow.” “My turn for what?” “To lie back and think of England, of course.” “That thought is not going to help me sleep.” “It wasn't supposed to. Goodnight, my love.” Alicia rolled onto her side and hugged him tightly, wondering how she could possibly love him any more than she did at that moment. He'd made her the happiest woman alive. And, even if it turned out to be only for a short while, 246

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she was going to be happy. Fate might catch up with them eventually, but not yet. Not yet.

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Chapter 18 “So, he just woke up?” “’E did. Just like that. One minute 'e were dead, next minute 'e were alive.” “And did he say anything?” “Same thing over and over.” “And that would be?” Evan closed his eyes briefly, his patience wearing thin. He was sorely tempted to take the stupid oaf into the alleyway at the back of the tavern and just beat the information out of him instead of paying the shilling the man had been promised. He resisted the urge, however, and smiled pleasantly instead. “Do continue.” “Well, then I called for the dowager duchess, 'an told 'er, 'an then she fainted clean away, 'an...” The man gave a strangled gasp as Evan grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and gave it a twist. Evan allowed him a token struggle before twisting the collar so tightly that the man’s face started to turn purple. “I find myself getting bored.” Evan stated flatly. “And you know what happens when I'm bored, don't you?” He loosened his hold just enough to let the man respond. “I’ll tell you,” the man croaked. “Anything you want to know.” 248

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“Good, that’s much better.” Evan turned and shouldered open the tavern door, dragging the man after him. With a shove, he sent him sprawling into the mud. Evan shook his head and fished in his pocket. Maybe a little motivation was in order. “This is one shilling.” He held up a coin and inspected it. “Tell me something interesting and you may have it. It's very simple, really. Do you understand?” The man pushed up onto his elbows, his eyes fixed on the coin Evan was twirling between his fingers. “Well now, Evan. You didn't let me finish, did you? 'E were asking for 'er. You know, his financey woman.” Evan flicked the coin into the air and caught it deftly. “Do you mean fiancée?” “Aye, that's it. Were getting married, then she tried to do 'im in. Or so we thought. Now 'e’s saying 'twer an accident and 'e wants 'er back. 'Course, I ain't s’posed to be saying all this. Poster says she's just a missing girl. Ten pound reward 'e’s offering.” The man looked hopefully at Evan. “Ten pounds, Evan. You know where she is, then?” “Would I be telling you if I did?” The man frowned then jumped to his feet as Evan turned to go. “You ain't paid me yet. I were promised a shilling.” Evan turned and contemplated the coin. “So,” he said, pulling a sheet of paper from his pocket, “This Alicia 249

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Stanton, who they need to find so badly, is a would-be murderess?” “'S’what we all thought. Now 'e says she ain't, like I said.” “But he wants her back?” “Yes.” “Well, I think this might be worth more than ten pounds, don't you, Josh?” Josh nodded again, his hand reaching for the coin. “Do I get my money now?” Evan flicked the coin onto the cobbles, watching disdainfully as the man scrabbled for it. “Keep your eyes and ears open,” he ordered the man at his feet. “And Josh, you know what will happen if you tell anyone about our little conversation, don't you? Goodnight.” **** “My word, is no one getting out bed this morning?” Alicia tried to raise her head from the pillow. It felt strangely heavy and someone was pounding on the wall with a hammer. So inconsiderate when all she wanted to do was sleep. She opened her eyes very slowly, blinking against the morning light, and realised thankfully, that she was back in the King’s Room. Flora was leaning over her. Her smile quickly turned to a frown when she realised that Alicia was still dressed and very obviously wasn't well. 250

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“Why, whatever is wrong, my dear?” Flora reached over and placed a hand on Alicia's forehead, contemplating her anxiously. “No fever, but you do look quite dreadful. Is it your monthly time? I used to suffer something dreadful with mine.” “No” It came out as a croak, and Alicia brought her hand up to cover her eyes. “That awful noise is hurting my head. And… I'm just feeling a little sick in my stomach, that's all. I'm sure it will pass.” “Noise?” Flora looked around then touched Alicia’s cheek. “I’ll make you one of my hot poultices. That will sort it.” “That won't be necessary. Flora, please, I just need to lie here a little longer and keep my head still. Would you kindly draw the curtains?” Flora folded her arms and raised an eyebrow. She sniffed the air dramatically. “Hmm,” she said. “I think I know what's wrong with you young lady. Just wait until I get my hands on those two. Did they get you drunk?” “No, Flora, I got myself drunk.” Flora pulled the curtains together and the light, mercifully, dimmed. “And I shall never touch alcohol again. How long does this terrible feeling last?” “How much did you have to drink?” Now that she knew her charge wasn't going to be carried off suddenly by some mysterious disease, Flora looked decidedly less sympathetic. “Not very much. Some wine and some brandy.”

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“I shall murder them both,” Flora stated. “Fancy them getting you drunk like that. No doubt they thought it quite a laugh.” “No, I asked them to let me drink with them. Please don't say anything. I was trying to prove that women could drink as well as any man.” “We can do anything as well as any man, my sweet. It just doesn't do to let them know, that's all. You lie there and I shall fetch you a cup of tea. Let's see if we can't make you feel a little better before those two dolts wake up.” “Thank you, Flora.” Alicia knew that she sounded feeble and pathetic, and she didn't deserve any sympathy for her plight, but she was glad Flora wasn't being too disapproving. She could well imagine what her parent’s reaction to this would have been. Her parents. How disgraced they must feel. And Dana? Was she still safely in Bath with Aunt Joan, or had she been dragged home to tend to her no-doubt hysterical mother? “I’m sorry, Mama,” Alicia muttered. She couldn't, however, bring herself to feel any sympathy for her father. In her mind he simply didn't deserve any. But Dana…poor Dana. Flora left to make the tea while Alicia dozed and recalled the events of the previous evening. So much for defending the fairer sex - she'd failed miserably at that but it had been a most amazing night. She felt a blush stealing across her cheeks when she recalled how Damien had kissed her and the things he'd read her in his story. Then she blushed even more when she remembered how she'd practically begged him to do the same to her. Oh dear, what must he think of me? she 252

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thought. He'd been the one to say they should wait, whereas she'd pouted and cajoled to try and persuade him otherwise. What did that make her? It made her a woman in love, she decided. That was the only reason she wanted to do those things with Damien. It wasn't out of curiosity, or because she was a wanton. It was because she simply couldn't envisage ever wanting to do them with anyone else. And he'd asked her to marry him. Hadn't he? In the cold light of day the proposal suddenly seemed so improbable that Alicia began to think she'd dreamed it. Had Damien really said those words? Love wasn’t easy. That was becoming very apparent. When she’d most expected it, no man had touched her heart. But now, when everything was in turmoil, it had happened. Just thinking about Damien made all the empty places inside her fill up with feelings she didn’t know what to do with, they were so unfamiliar. All she knew was that she wanted to stay by his side forever. She wanted him to be her companion and her lover, and she wanted to grow old with him. She wanted to see to his welfare and give him everything he needed. Would it be selfish of her to take what he was so freely offering, knowing that it might be short-lived because her hiding place might be discovered at any moment? Could she risk breaking his heart in that way? Flora interrupted her thoughts with a cup of tea which she deposited on the bedside table. “What am I to do with you all?” she said with a sigh. “Alex is nowhere to be found. Damien is still asleep, which is most unusual. And you, my dear, look like death warmed over. Come, get this down you.” She helped Alicia to sit up and 253

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handed her the tea. Then she arranged herself on the side of the bed and reached over to smooth back Alicia's hair. “Poor girl. Do not worry, by this afternoon you will feel right as rain.” Alicia sipped her tea and wondered whether she ought to tell Flora about the proposal. She’d have to know sooner or later. Would she approve, or would she resent her for diverting Damien's affections? Alicia put down the cup and pulled up her knees, wrapping her arms around them. “Flora, was it awful when Evan got you with child?” Flora gave her a look halfway between amusement and a frown. “Why, whatever do you mean?” “I mean, did he force you to it? Force his affections on you?” Flora gave a chuckle and her expression turned pensive. Then she smiled rather wickedly and, momentarily, looked years younger. “It wasn't like that at all. I pursued him, child. In fact he wasn't the slightest bit interested in me - at first. I had to make very plain what I wanted from him.” Alicia was somewhat taken aback by this admission. Not what she'd expected to hear at all. “Are you telling me you didn't mind?” “Mind? Why should I mind? You should have seen him, Lissa. My dear, he was the most handsome man I'd ever set eyes upon, and I was not such a girl. He was far more interested in the younger servants - liked them very young, as I recall – but I was very determined. I convinced myself that once I was with child he would 254

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marry me.” She shook her head. “But he never did offer. Then the Lady gave birth to Damien, and I was asked to stay as nurse.” “Do you still love Evan?” Alicia didn't want to offend Flora, but she couldn't imagine anyone loving Evan. “Sometimes... He's not the easiest of men, but he had such talents...” Flora seemed to suddenly realise what she was saying, and who she was saying it to. She slid from the bed and started to bustle around the room. “There I go, talking too much, as usual.” Alicia got to her knees, pushing the quilt away. “No, Flora. I would like to talk to you of these things. You see, Damien has asked me to marry him.” Flora stopped her tidying for a heartbeat. She stilled momentarily then continued rearranging the items on the dressing table. “And what did you say to that?” “I said yes. Flora, stop that and come and talk with me, I’m sorely in need of someone to talk to.” Flora crossed the room and sat herself back on the edge of the bed. “Do you have doubts about it?” “No, not really.” Alicia tried to gauge Flora's expression. She'd expected her to be wary, maybe even resentful, but, instead, Flora looked rather sad. “Do you not approve, Flora?” Flora took a deep breath and sighed, reaching for Alicia's hand. She contemplated it for a moment before speaking. “Lissa, there is nothing I would like to see more than that you and Damien wed. It is obvious that he adores you, and I think you would make him very 255

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happy.” She gave a little nod at that, as if asking Alicia to confirm it. “I've no doubt that we would be happy, I do love him, Flora, even though I've only known him a few weeks. And I know he loves me dearly. Would he have asked me if he didn't?” “My dear, Damien never does anything unless his heart and soul is there with him. He is passionate and idealistic, but extremely loyal. Rest assured he would never have asked you if he didn't mean it.” Alicia breathed an inward sigh at the words. But Flora hadn't finished. She was studiously avoiding meeting Alicia’s gaze and picking at the edge of her apron. Alicia regarded her anxiously. “But?” Flora looked up and shook her head. “No,” she said. “It’s nothing.” “Flora, you must tell me if there is something on your mind. Is there a reason why I shouldn't marry Damien?” “Evan's not going to like it, for one.” Alicia sat back on her heels. “What business is it of Evan's? Damien is of age. Surely he does not need Evan’s permission to marry?” “Don't ask me to explain, Lissa. I just know Evan. He's not going to like it.” “Then he will just have to deal with it,Flora. We intend to marry and we will.” 256

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“And where will the marriage take place? Have you thought of that?” “No...” Alicia faltered. “You have a consecrated chapel here, do you not? We could get married there.” “And where will you post the banns? That must be done publicly, must it not? And where will you find a priest who will keep your hiding place a secret?” Alicia's heart sank. Now she realised what Flora was trying to tell her. A marriage would involve a public announcement. Even a special licence would need their names. And then they would find her…and she would go on trial and, if found guilty, she would hang. Flora sat quietly as Alicia's mind unravelled the problem to its logical conclusion. “I'm sorry, Lissa, I'm so very sorry,” she said. “It would be dangerous for you to reveal you whereabouts. Am I right?” Alicia nodded miserably and, when Flora’s arms enfolded her, she leaned against her bosom, feeling naïve and foolish. It wasn't fair. But, then again, perhaps it was. Perhaps this cruel twist of fate was that punishment she'd been so sure was coming her way. She didn’t deserve to be happily married, but she wanted to be. She wanted it so much. She raised her head and wiped away tears that were threatening to spill. “Flora, would you think it awful of me if I wanted to be with Damien even if we couldn't be married?” “What do you mean?” “I mean…I feel so close to him that I don't need anyone else to tell me it's right. We've told ourselves it's all 257

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right, and that's all we need. How can a piece of paper make it any more so? God must surely see how much we love each other. How can he object to us being together?” “Calm yourself, Lissa, calm yourself.” Flora patted her hand again. “I agree with you. I have considered myself married to Evan in all but name these many years. Living as we do in isolation, I have suffered no stigma for it. And even outside these walls there are many of the lower classes who never formalise their arrangements with anything other than a common agreement.” “But Damien is a lord. This would make me his...” “Mistress. And your children bastards.” Flora finished the sentence for her. “Would you mind that? “Children?” Flora's mind had run on much faster than Alicia's. “Yes, my dear. There will very likely be children. Be very sure of this, Lissa, very sure.” Alicia didn't hesitate for a moment. “I am. I've never been more sure of anything. This is what I want more than anything in the world.” “Then I give you my blessing, Lissa dear, and I will speak to Evan - though much good it will do. Would you like to go and see if Damien is awake?” Alicia engulfed Flora in a hug, whispering thanks as she held her.

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Flora patted her back and sighed. “I hope you will have some time to be happy with him, my lamb; all I've ever wanted is for him to be happy. Are you feeling any better?” Alicia nodded against her. Time. She could almost feel it marching past her. From now on each second would be too precious to waste. Squeezing Flora once more, she climbed down from the bed. If marriage was a coming together of two souls, then she and Damien were already married. Fate had brought them together, and it may well rip them apart, but until then she wanted to spend every moment with him and give him everything she had to give. He was sitting at his desk writing when she tentatively pushed open his bedroom door. He paused for a second, pencil in hand, looking as rumpled as she felt with his hair unkempt and his shirt creased and unbuttoned. Kicking back his chair, his expression turned quickly from surprise to understanding. “Lissa,” he said, and opened his arms to her. She turned the key in the lock and then ran to him, laying her head on his chest. For a moment they simply breathed together. Then she lifted her face to him, raised herself on tiptoe and pulled him down to her waiting mouth. “Let’s stay this way forever,” she said. In answer he lifted her off her feet and kissed her again and again. This time with no restraint. “Don’t make me wait,” she said, dizzy and breathless. Her head was spinning - whether because of the alcohol or because the moment had come at last, she didn’t know. Still carrying her, Damien stumbled to the bed and set her down, his lips never leaving hers, his hands 259

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touching her everywhere. Everything faded but the need to get as close as possible. To hold on to what they had in that moment. It was all they could be sure of. Alicia pushed Damien’s shirt from his shoulders and pressed her lips to his chest. There was no need for words, nor formalities. He’d asked and she’d said yes. It was all that mattered. All they needed. How could anyone say that this was wrong?

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Chapter 19 Damien had been so worried about this, fearing he somehow wouldn’t come up to Lissa's expectations when they finally made love, that he was totally taken aback by the surge of pure lust that had overtaken them both. She’d stolen his breath when she’d appeared and thrown herself on him, consuming him with the intensity of her need. He'd penned many an ode to this moment. Imagined there’d be poetry and flowers. The shy, virginal wife. Candles and soft moonlight. Sighs and whispered endearments. But instead he was here, sprawled across her, pushing up her skirts. Pulling at the drawstrings of her underwear with shaking fingers. Bruising her mouth with his kisses, and so desperate to be inside her that he was on the verge of losing all reason. And all the while she urged him on, calling his name over and over and telling him he was the only man who would ever do this to her and he must never stop doing it, because she would never stop wanting him to. He nearly lost control when her fingers fumbled with the buttons of his trousers and finally freed him. A mixture of surprise and desire, and perhaps a little fear, clouded her features and it was a struggle to keep still so she could find out for herself how much he wanted her. Their eyes met in what was for him the perfect moment. How could it be more right than this? Two people who wanted nothing more than each other. To make Lissa his and take this sweet gift that she was offering so freely was all that was important. She stilled too while he 261

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shifted over her, her eyes half-closed, a trusting smile on her lips. “I think it might hurt, this first time,” he said and hoped fervently that she wasn’t about to change her mind. Pulling back now would be almost more than he could bear. She whispered close to his ear. “Please, Damien, you would never hurt me. I love you.” “Oh God, Lissa, and I do love you too.” There weren't words for how much he loved her. All he could do was show her. It was over far too quickly, as he knew it would be. She gave a small gasp when he covered her mouth with his, kissing her with all the love he could pour into it. He wanted her there with him, but all he could focus on was his own need for completion. He was somewhere on the outer reaches of the universe when he found his release, and as he fluttered back down to earth he became aware of her gentle hands stroking his hair and her soft whisper telling him that he was the most wonderful man she'd ever met. And that they were truly married now. Nothing would ever part them. **** Her sweet, beautiful Damien. At last he was truly hers. Shy, endearing, intense, passionate - he could be all those things at once, and when she'd gone to his room, she hadn't really known what she was going to do. Only that she needed to be with him. Something in his 262

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expression, as he'd stood, had told her that this was the moment. The right time to do this. A simple look could ask a thousand questions and, in reply, she'd shown him exactly what she wanted. She wasn't surprised at the confidence with which she opened his trouser buttons, and as they embraced so many sensations hit her at once. Hot and hard. Smooth and strong. Giving and taking. It was complicated, yet it was simple, touching and overwhelming. She felt Damien’s control slipping away, but knew it was only because she was giving him permission to let go. “Take it all,” she said, and he did when he came apart in her arms, tensing above her as he found his release. He almost looked guilty then, knowing that this first time had caused her pain, when for him it was pure ecstasy. Wendy had told her to expect that, but she'd also told her how wonderful it could be - although Alicia knew enough that the pleasure came not from the act alone. She suspected one could feel that pleasure with anyone to whom you were attracted. After all, she'd felt it a little with Crosbie without actually being in love with him. No, something else was happening here, she was sure of it. It was in the giving and the taking, the trust and the understanding. The unspoken agreement that all they needed from now on was each other. It was a sense of fulfilment, and a moment of perfect clarity. This was love. **** It was a gift he’d often dreamed of, but never truly expected. That made it so much more precious - and he'd taken it, greedily and selfishly. 263

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Damien knew he could be that. He didn't mean to be, but in the past he'd never had need to think of anyone else but himself. Not before he’d met this woman who was putting him back together with her slow caresses and cradling him in her softness. He'd tried to make it about both of them, and it had been to start with, but when she'd encouraged him he'd lost himself in the sensation of becoming a real man at last. The fire and the passion and the heat, it had possessed him and blurred all reality. Like a rebirth into a world where nothing would ever be the same again. As the bedroom once more came into sharp focus he wanted to cry with gratitude for the gift she'd given him, and with shame for the way he'd so blatantly taken it. When he tried to tell her, she stopped him, settling him over her and soothing him while he struggled to breathe normally once more. She'd given, and she was still giving. Next time it would be for her; he would make sure of that. He suspected that the act of lovemaking always involved a little bit of selfishness - that point where the sensations took control and there was no choice but to go with it. He felt her fingers idly fiddling with the hair on the nape of his neck, causing small ripples of sensation that made him move against her, and, exhausted as he was, he could feel it starting all over again. A slow stirring deep inside that made him want to roll her over and repeat the whole thing. Only slower this time and making sure she was with him. Burning every bit of it into his memory. Would it always be like this? he wondered. How would he ever get enough of her? Now he knew why men went mad for love. Why they gave up everything and made fools of themselves. And 264

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now he knew why some never dared risk this. Never gave their hearts. Because once you did that you were lost. Your heart was in someone else's hands and you could do nothing but trust them to take great care if it. “Are you all right, Damien?” Alicia interrupted his thoughts, and he gave a long sigh and gazed at her, unable to disguise the small smile of satisfaction that insisted on planting itself on his mouth, despite the feeling that perhaps it was not the most appropriate thing to be doing right now. “I'm more than all right, Lissa. I'm feeling on top of the world. I want to wrestle giants, and climb mountains and shout very loudly from the top of them.” “Then I have driven you mad?” He kissed her, rolled away and flung his arms wide across the bed. “That you have. How was it for you?” “It was…” she moved towards him, and on an impulse he caught hold of her and lifted her to sit on his stomach. “…The most wonderful experience of my life,” she giggled and flopped forward. “Ouch.” He lifted her again and adjusted her position. “That part of me is a little sensitive right now. Did I hurt you?” “Only a little.” Her fingers touched his lips, stilling his protest. “I don't know why it is so...perhaps we are still paying for the sins of Eve? But that is not your fault. It was exactly how I wanted it to be.” She lay down on him and snuggled into his neck. “It was perfect.” 265

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He kissed the top of her forehead and stared up at the ceiling. “I took my pleasure of you most selfishly, but I'll make it up to you, I promise.” “I like the sound of that. And, you must not think I minded. I loved having you in my power. We can learn this together, can we not?” “I was in your power, Lissa. Completely at your command.” “I love you, Damien.” “And I you. I can't wait until we're married. Wasn't I supposed to give you a ring before we did this?” Damien lifted Alicia’s hand and contemplated it. “I have some of my mother's jewellery that Flora hid from Evan. You must choose something from it today.” “Oh.” Alicia turned away, remembering Flora’s words. Damien twisted, raised himself on one elbow and looked down at her. She avoided his gaze, and he realised that her lip was trembling. The moment of playful banter changed to one of seriousness and apprehension. “Whatever is wrong?” he said, and swallowed in an attempt to quell the thudding of his heart. That slow, heavy thudding that comes when you are filled with dread. “Was it something I said, or did? Look at me, love.” “No, Damien. I've just remembered what Flora and I were talking about before I came in here.” Alicia looked genuinely stricken as her fingers fumbled for the ribbons of her bodice. “I fear we can’t get married after all, but you’ll still want me, won't you? We don't need a wedding to be together, do we?” 266

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She flung herself onto him so hard that he had trouble peeling her off. Her words made no sense. He needed to see her face to understand what she was trying to tell him. He watched with dismay as her eyes became bright with tears. “You don't want to marry me any more? Is that what you’re trying to say? Please don't say you've changed your mind, Lissa. I couldn't bear it. What did Flora say to make you so unhappy?” **** Alicia sat up and wiped her eyes, her skirts bunched around her thighs. Damien jumped from the bed and walked over to the washstand, hitching up his trousers as he went. She watched as he cleaned himself, then rinsed out the washcloth and brought it to her along with a towel. She took them, and hesitated for a moment, suddenly feeling terribly shy. It didn't make sense after being so intimate with him, but she supposed that this too would come with time. He turned around while she too cleaned herself and then searched for her underwear. As she wriggled into it he turned back and sat on the edge of the bed. “Tell me what Flora said. Did she upset you?” “No, you must not blame her.” Alicia shuffled across until she was seated next to him, her legs dangling. She reached for his hand and worked out what to say. “She merely pointed out the impracticalities of us getting married.” 267

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“But why?” Damien shook his head. “I knew this was too good to be true.” Now he looked near to tears. Alicia gave his hand a squeeze and leaned her head against his shoulder. “It would have to be made public, and that would be bad for me.” “Oh.” She saw the disappointment plainly written on his face. “But that doesn't mean we can't be together, does it? After what we just did – Damien, I already consider myself married to you. I don't need a parson or a piece of paper to validate it.” He squeezed her hand and gave her a half-smile. “I feel closer to you than I've ever felt with anyone. I just wanted to make it official, that's all. Perhaps when this mess with Crosbie is sorted?” “Yes, I... Who is that?” She’d heard footsteps, then a light tapping at the door and a voice. “Damien, Lissa? Are you in there? I need to talk to you.” The sound of Flora’s agitated voice caused them to both jump guiltily from the bed. Damien combed back his hair with his fingers and Alicia smoothed down her skirts. He caught her for a swift kiss which she returned with a desperate urgency. “We will be together, don’t worry,” he whispered. She nodded and touched her lips, wondering if she looked any different from the girl who’d run into his room so impulsively such a short time ago. It had all happened so fast, yet it felt reassuringly right. 268

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Damien took a calming breath then walked over to the door and unlocked it. “Evan has returned.” Flora looked past him to Alicia and raised her eyebrows. “It wouldn't do for him to find you in here together.” She held out her hand as she would to a child and beckoned Alicia over. “Come, I think it best that I talk to him before he knows about this.” Alicia glanced at Damien, who at this moment seemed at a total loss as to what to do. She wanted to take him in her arms and hold him. Tell him again how wonderful the lovemaking had been. And that everything was going to be all right. But Flora was already urging her out. All she managed was to brush her fingers against his as she was ushered from the room, still unsure whether she'd got the message across that she still did want him, despite not being able to formalise their arrangement in a conventional manner. They'd just made love. It didn't seem right to leave him so soon after such a profound experience. They should be lying comfortably in each other's arms now, talking and reassuring each other. Perhaps doing it again, slowly as he'd promised. Instead, Damien was alone in his room, probably now brooding over what she'd said. Alicia’s thoughts turned to the implications of Evan's return. The man had been gone for two days now, and who knows what he'd been up to? Damien had told her that there was more to Evan than met the eye, and, after that encounter at the bottom of the attic stairs, she could well believe it. Surely what she’d done to Crosbie would be common knowledge by now? Suddenly her headache came back with a vengeance. It was just too much to cope with all at once. She just wanted to be with Damien - not too much to ask, surely? But perhaps 269

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it was? She had to make do with Flora's shoulder as the tears fell. Flora didn't question why she was sobbing as if her heart would break. Instead, she held her in an understanding hug and patted her on the back, muttering soothing phrases that were meant to reassure, but only made her feel worse. It wasn't all going to be all right, and there wasn't going to be a happy ending. She'd not only ruined her own family, her pathetic attempt to be her own woman was surely going to bring misery and sorrow to more people she loved. “I don't want to hurt him, Flora, I love him so much,” she said, in between sobs. “But I think I'm going to. What will Evan do? He will find out about me, won't he?” “If there's anything to find out, yes he will.” Flora lifted Alicia's head and looked at her hopefully. “But he may yet keep it to himself. Let us not think the worse, before he announces his intentions.” She brought out a linen square and offered it to Alicia, who wiped at her eyes. “I don’t think he’ll want me in the house when he finds out what I’ve done.” Flora, thankfully, didn't ask her to expand on that. Instead she combed back Alicia's hair with her fingers, then stroked her cheek. “You poor girl. This must be a terrible burden for you to carry. Go back to Damien. I think you have need to talk with him. I will distract Evan for a while, but it cannot be for too long. I will try and find out where he has been. Will that help you?” “Yes, it will. Thank you.” Alicia planted a quick kiss on Flora’s cheek and turned to run back to Damien's room. They did need to talk. They were adults now and needed 270

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to solve their own problems in an adult manner. The responsibility was theirs alone. Would it be better for everyone if she left? Would Damien let her go? Would she be able to leave him? She didn't want to, she already knew that, but what she wanted wasn't the issue any more. She slowed down when she reached his door and reached for the handle. Poor Damien. She only wanted to make him happy. Instead, she had the feeling that she was going to bring him nothing but misery. When she entered the room she was surprised to see him again bent over his desk, writing. He looked up briefly, beckoned her over, then turned back to his work. She walked across the room and stood behind him. Sliding her hands over his shoulders and around his neck, she leaned her head on the arm that was resting on his shoulder and whispered to him. “Today I'm going to cut your hair. Can I do that for you?” “Of course you can, my love.” He stopped what he was doing momentarily and leaned his head back against hers. “I'd like that.” “What are you writing?” She pointed at the sheet of paper. “Can I see?” “It isn't finished yet, but you can tell me if I've got the words right. Come here.” Damien pulled her round and into his lap, then lifted the sheet so she could read it. “Be careful, the ink is still wet. Have I got it right?” She read the words. 271

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I Damien, Lord Lucius of Rossendale, do take thee Alicia Stanton to be my lawful wedded wife, to have and to hold... “I'm not quite sure how it goes. Only what I've read in books. Have I got it right so far?” Wedding vows? He was writing wedding vows for them. “Yes, I think it is correct so far, But, Damien...” He stopped her with a kiss that left her weak and breathless. It was a kiss that told her he wasn't going to listen to any of her arguments or objections. They were going to do this. “You were right, Lissa. We don't need anyone else to tell us whether we can be married or not. We just need to tell ourselves, and it will be so. God will be our witness and then you'll be my wife, and I'll be your husband. We'll do it tonight, when everyone is in bed. And we'll say the proper words, and I’ll give you a ring. Let’s write it down and hide it somewhere, so future generations will know what we've done. What do you say?” He looked so open and vulnerable as he waited for her answer. And so young. Just as she felt at that moment. Making love might physically turn you into a man or a woman, but experiences like these were what really made you grow up. Taking responsibility for your actions and making decisions. That's what he was doing. It was the best they could hope for right now, and she was going to take it, the devil be damned. As she returned Damien’s kiss and whispered yes against his lips, she felt his arms circle her and pull her in. 272

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“Tell me the rest of the words,” he said, in between more kisses. Alicia lifted the pen and handed it to him, remembering that Flora had told her to be quick. “If we can’t remember the words, then we shall make them up to suit ourselves. That will be even better, do you not think?” His expression was one of pure adoration. “You are a most remarkable woman, Miss Alicia Stanton.” She giggled and leaned her forehead against his chest briefly. “And you are a treasure, my lord. Hidden away all these years, waiting only for me.” Damien leaned across his desk and dipped the pen in the ink-pot. “It has been a long wait, my love, but well worth it. Come, what shall I write?” “Surprise me.” She leaned her face against his chest once more so that she couldn't see what he was writing, knowing that she would have to leave him soon and go and see what Flora had found out. Alicia decided that she’d write some vows of her own. Not conventional vows; this was hardly a conventional wedding. She'd write something that told Damien exactly how she felt. Something that would show him just how much she loved him. Then she'd marry him and, whatever happened, she'd consider herself his wife until the day she died.

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Chapter 20 There is a place where dreams and reality meet. Where the edges of one blur and melt against the other, and it's hard to know the difference between truth and fantasy. All his life Damien felt as if he'd been stuck been stuck there, wandering aimlessly through a fog of laudanum and alcohol and loneliness. But then Lissa had come into his life, and he'd started to experience things that felt solid and real. He'd looked in the mirror before and never really known who he was, but now he was beginning to find out because he could see himself in her. The way she looked at him and touched him, the way she made him feel, the things she said– they all reflected a Damien he didn’t know existed. He thrust his hands into his pockets and fiddled with the sheet of paper that held the words he wanted to say to her, and looked across at the woman he desperately wanted to make his wife. This experience was so outside his wildest expectations that he was having trouble finding the proper feelings to deal with it all. For a bridegroom to be nervous was probably normal, but he felt as if he was floating high above the chapel, watching this surreal scene from somewhere else. Damien, the boy in the dark, was pledging himself to this enchanting woman, who sat demurely on the pew, her legs dangling, all wrapped up into his jacket against the chapel's chilly air. He had to fight the urge to reach out and touch her to make sure she was real. She must be, because he could see her cold breath as she exhaled, and it seemed fitting that they spend these last few moments in quiet contemplation. It was the start of a new life in which he 274

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would be forever bound to her. One day they'd make it lawful, but for now this would have to do. He ran his fingers through his newly-shorn locks, still not used to the hairstyle she'd given him, and closed his eyes. Who did he thank for this bizarre turn of events that had brought her to him, and him to this moment? God? Fate? Alicia was waiting for him to say something, and suddenly the words he'd written sounded all wrong. She didn't need poetry, or overblown speeches. She needed truth. Words from the heart. Re-opening his eyes, he gave her a small smile and screwed up the piece of paper containing his carefully-written vows. At this her eyes went very wide, and a look of panic crossed her features. “Don't you...?” “Shh, it's all right,” he raised his hand to stop her getting up. “I know what I want to say. I don't need this. Shall I go first?” **** There were no wedding bells, no flowers. No witnesses to what they were doing. But there were candles on every surface, lighting the room with flickering shadows that danced on the edges of her vision and made her feel that they weren't alone. Alicia pulled Damien’s jacket around her. He'd been right in insisting she wear it. The chapel was unnaturally cold even during a warm summer's night. She wished he’d come over to her and hold her and make all the ghosts go away. Reassure her that they were doing the right thing. Instead he sat at the other end of the pew, his eyes closed, not saying a word. He seemed totally lost in himself, and all she could do was wait patiently for him to come back to her. 275

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It was strange that the nearer the moment of their strange marriage got, the more she wanted it. She wanted it so desperately - as if this step would be the answer to all her problems. She knew it wouldn't be, but Damien was like a haven, a place of shelter. Someone who would look after her no matter what. She loved him and wanted to be with him, but a small part of her still wanted the protection that being his wife would give her. She was suddenly very tired of being strong. Evan hadn't said a word to her all day, but every time they'd crossed paths he'd given her a look that had sent shivers down her spine, and the feeling of dread that had settled on her heart just wouldn't go away. Evan was circling round her like a vulture that might swoop at any moment, and right now there didn't seem many places to hide. Damien looked so different with his new haircut. Older, yes, but something about the shorter, softly-layered style changed him on a more subtle level. Even though he was wearing the old-fashioned coat he'd had on the night they'd met, it was as if he'd stepped from the past and into the modern world at last. If anything, it made him look more handsome than before – to her, anyway – and she wondered if he realised the effect he would have if he were out in society, dressed in the latest clothes and with his fortune behind him. How would he cope with the droves of young women who would be paraded before him, all hoping to catch a lord as husband? And why was she having these thoughts now? There was no competition, He wanted her and no-one else. But then he didn't exactly have a choice of women, did he? How could he be so sure that she was the one, when he had no-one to compare her too? And would he still want her if he went into the world one day and saw for himself all the beauties that were out there? 276

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She clasped her hands together and mentally scolded herself for all the very unhelpful doubts she was allowing into her mind. Damien loved her and wanted to marry her. She wasn't forcing him to anything, and it was right that a woman should want a husband's protection. It was everything she’d been taught to believe. And didn't she have everything she wanted to say to him written down on this piece of paper? It said she loved him, and wanted to be with him and always would. She'd given herself to him physically and now she wanted to give him everything else. This wasn't a wedding like anything she had ever imagined for herself, but, then, ordinary weddings were for ordinary people. She'd gone through hell to get to this and she knew Damien had too, so it seemed appropriate that it should just be the two of them, here in this shadowy chapel, wrapped in the intimate glow of the candlelight and whispering things that were so secret and so private that no- one but the two of them would ever know what was said. When Damien opened his eyes and prepared to speak she had a terrible moment of panic when he crumpled the vows he'd written in his hand and put them back into his pocket. He's changed his mind. . But then he raised a finger to his lips to calm her and motioned her back down when she tried to stand. This was the moment when, before God and the silent witness of his ancestors, she was to find out whether he really did want her as much as he said he did. 277

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The past was all around her, she could feel it. All the Lucius women who’d lived and married in this very place. Who’d baptised their children here, and who were probably buried here. It didn't scare her as she thought perhaps it should have. Instead she felt their encouragement and support, as if they were urging her to take the happiness they'd never had. Daring her to break the curse and be happy with Damien. He was waiting for her, while she sat quietly thinking, as she'd waited for him. Like a knight's vigil, they'd both needed a quiet moment of calm and contemplation before taking this step. With a smile she raised her face to show she was ready, and that all doubts were gone. Once this was done, there would be no going back for either of them. **** “Can you feel it, Lissa? The past, the present and the future - it's all around us, right now.” Damien caught Lissa’s nervous glance around the chapel at his words so he slid along the pew and took her hand. She squeezed back. “I didn't mean to scare you, Lissa. It's a good feeling, not a bad one. I was just thinking about this place. All life is here, isn't it? Births, marriages, deaths, they all mark the passage of time, milestones in our lives, places where we pause and take stock of things.” He stopped there and studied her expression to see whether she'd caught his meaning, relieved to find her nodding back at him. Although rather serious, she seemed in agreement. 278

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“I understand, Damien. I can feel it too. We're walking the same path they did.” She motioned towards the nameplates and dedications that lined the walls. Remembrances of people long dead who were somehow reaching out to them across time tonight. “What do you want of me, Lissa? Tell me what you want.” Damien needed to know. Anything she wanted, he'd give her, if it was in his power. It was as simple as that. Alicia thought for a moment, frowning a little at the unexpectedness of his question, then she looked him in the eye and said very clearly, “I want you, just you, Damien.” He too, looked straight at her, and spoke with the utmost conviction. “Then you have me, now and always. Tell me what you want me to do. If it's within my power I'll do anything for you.” “Would you?” Her expression turned to one of sadness, as if she already knew he wouldn't be able to give her everything she wanted. “You know I'd never ask you to do anything you couldn't?” she said quietly. “I know that, Lissa, but you must give me the chance. I know difficult days are ahead, but you must let me take the risks beside you. Promise me you'll do that, for a marriage must be based on honesty, must it not?” “I will try, Damien. I am happy to be doing this with you, please don't think I'm not. However, you can't expect me to tell you everything. A woman has to have her secrets, after all.”

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It took a few moments for him to realise she was gently teasing him and her mood had lightened again. It was somewhat worrying to see your bride-to-be so serious at her own wedding. He let her continue because it seemed her turn to speak. What he'd thought was going to be an epic speech from him had actually boiled down to something quite simple, and there seemed nothing more to add. “I too want to give you everything it is in my power to give you. What do you want of me Damien?” “I just want you too, but you've already used that answer so I'll have to think of something else.” His mood was lifting too, the nervousness being replaced by a sense of relief that they had been able to speak from the heart after all. “I want your body, your heart and your soul. Does that cover everything?” She laughed out loud at his response and held up the sheet of paper on which she'd written her vows. “I wrote you a long and extremely pretentious poem, and do you know...” She crumpled the paper in her hand as he had done to his and slipped it back into her pocket. “You were right, this way is much better. They're all yours, Damien, though I fear my soul is not a pretty sight at present.” “Then you can have mine. Now kiss me to show you mean what you say.” “I do mean it. I don't have to kiss you for that.” I know, but kiss me anyway.” He leaned towards her, then stopped and groped in his coat pocket. “Wait, I was 280

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supposed to give you this.” He produced a plain gold band set with three small diamonds. She hadn't wanted to choose for herself and he'd had no idea what would fit her, so he'd chosen the only one he could find that had an open back. “See, you can adjust it to fit your finger.” She held up her hand and admired it. “So practical. I love it.” “Are you teasing me again?” He was never quite sure, and felt stupid having to ask. “I'll have a proper one made one day.” “Yes, I'm teasing you, but I do love it, and I do love you. Now, where were we?” In response his lips descended to hers in a kiss that started sweetly enough but soon built up to something else. He pulled back, his breathing already erratic and took her hand once more. “I think that's our cue to start the next part of this plan.” “And that would be?” “Why the wedding night, of course.” **** Alicia gave a loud yawn and put down the candlesticks bearing the lighted candles she’d carried up from the chapel. “Oh dear, I don't seem to be able to keep awake.”

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She hadn't even finished saying it before she started laughing. Damien had stopped, half in-half out of his shirt. Eyes wide, he stared at her in disbelief. “Oh, Damien,” she said. “Your face is a picture. You are so easy to tease. Did you really think I was going to be able to sleep on my wedding night? Come here.” Reaching up on tiptoe she pushed the shirt from his shoulders and hooked her arms around his neck. Hot breath against her hair told her he was close and he had her safe for now. Wrapped in his warmth, she could imagine that the world was as small as this room and only the two of them lived in it. This had been his world for so long, and it could be hers too, just for tonight. “You're so easy to love too.” She whispered it on a kiss then pressed her lips against his throat and lingered there, breathing him in as he tilted back his head and let her know with soft sighs and moans how much he was enjoying it. “You too, sweet girl.” His grip tightened about her and she felt herself lifted off her feet. “You've given me such hope, something I never would never have imagined just a few weeks back. Kiss me again. I can never get enough of kissing you.” Their lips met once more, the kisses warm, sweet promises of what was to come. Tonight the future was guaranteed, but tomorrow was just a blur, an indefinable thing. It was a future in which they would always be together because she would never forget him, but it was nothing like the future she’d always imagined. As Damien walked them the few steps to the bed and sat her down, crawling up beside her, she let those dreams 282

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of that other future slip away and turned to face this new, slightly scarier future with him. His fingers lifting her hair made her shiver when he moved it aside so he could unbutton her dress. She turned herself slightly as he worked the buttons open, giving him better access, moving back against him as he smoothed the gauzy material down over her shoulders. Tilting her head back to claim another slow, dreamy kiss. It was like a dream. Any moment now she would awaken and find herself in her own bed, and the memory of Crosbie and the blood and the horror would quietly recede with the dream, and she would be so relieved. And then she'd remember Damien, and the rest of her life would be one long search to find him again. The dress slipped to her waist as his soft lips tickled the back of her neck, tracing a path over her shoulder. Alicia twisted back round to face him so that he could continue his silent declaration of love and worship. “We'll always be together, won't we, Damien?” Her hands crept into his pale hair, holding him while he worked his kisses across the top of her breasts. “Even if we aren't physically together, you will be with me, won't you?” He lifted his head, a sleepy, satisfied smile on his mouth, his blue eyes deep, and gently understanding. “I will find you if I have to cross time itself to get to you. Shall we do that, Lissa? Shall we meet each other in another time, where I shall be able to go out into the light and you will not have to wrestle these demons of yours every day?”

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She gave a sigh and lay back into the quilt, reaching her arms out for him to come over her. Arching up into another kiss. It was a promise of a future. Maybe not in this lifetime, but they would be together, she could feel it. “I'd like that, very much, and who knows, perhaps Fate will be kind to us after all, and allow us some happiness?” “Such maudlin thoughts tonight, my Lissa. Put them out of your mind and come here.” With that he rolled her over so that she was lying over him, her hair falling on either side of his head like a curtain. Gripping at her arms, he held her up, a small teasing smile playing at the corners of his mouth. She scanned his face, putting her hands down on either side of him, wondering what he was thinking, for something was on his mind. His eyes had taken on a mischievous glint as he settled himself back against the covers. Then he closed them and lay still. “Damien? What are you doing?” He kept his eyes closed, but the smile remained, growing broader by the second. “Why, I’m thinking of England, my love” **** Tonight he'd promised was for her. He'd seen to his immediate needs the night before when all his pent-up frustration and desire had at least found some sort of release. That wasn't to say he wouldn't like to do it like that all over again. It had been an experience like no other, but then going slowly would simply be a different 284

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way of achieving the same goal. It was Lissa’s turn to find out how wonderful this could be. As she wriggled down the length of him, he hoped he could keep control of things long enough to let her do whatever she wanted. He didn't for one minute believe the books that insisted women felt very little during the act of making love. Her reaction to his kisses and touches were real enough. Inexperienced as he was, he could tell that much. He felt her removing his boots, hearing them fall with a soft thud to the floor, then she was with him once more, her hair tickling his face as she kissed him slowly and thoughtfully. Methodically working her way across his eyes, cheeks, mouth, as if she was staking a claim to each and every inch. And so it was as they moved against each other. Desire building, hearts pounding. The world slipping away until there was only the slow caress of skin on skin, tenderness mingled with a fierce possession, and the exquisite sweetness of her all around him, surrounding him, claiming him. And he gave and gave, holding her until she breathed softly beside him once more. How easy it was to fall in love. Hadn’t he told himself not to hold on too tightly? Yet here he was clinging to her as if his life depended on it. Lying as close to her as he could, their legs tangled, hot skin glowing in the aftermath. Her face pressed into his neck. He'd taken out his heart and laid it at her feet. Risked having it shatter into a million pieces because he knew he wasn't strong enough to cope if she ever did leave him. 285

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It was all so urgent, so desperate right now, and the closer he got to her, the more desperate it seemed to get. He'd fallen in love, but he was still falling, going deeper and deeper each moment he was with her. And he knew he'd be falling until the day he died. **** So this was what women were not supposed to feel? The big secret that was kept from them. The thing considered so dreadful that one needed to think distracting thoughts of the mother country while it was happening, lest you be scarred for life. This wonderful sensation of completeness and closeness that made you feel as if you were flying high above the Earth. She was so fortunate that Damien had done everything to encourage her and gently lead her towards sensations only hinted at before. As she lay against his warm, moist skin she wanted to do it all over again, because this was just the beginning, surely? His body had been a revelation to her, and she'd taken a great delight in learning just what it was that made him so hot and so hard. Damien had been more than happy to return the favour, turning her into warm honey with his hands and his mouth. Telling her it was safe to abandon herself to him because he would always look after her. “Shall we do it again, Damien?” He gave a small chuckle at this and kissed the top of her head. “Give me a moment to recover, love. Can you not feel how fast my heart is beating?” She wriggled across so her ear was pressed to his chest. His fingers sifted through her hair as she listened. 286

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“Because you did most of the work. All I did was lie back and enjoy it.” “I wouldn't exactly call it work, my love. Did you enjoy it this time?” His fingers stilled as he waited for her answer. “Was it good for you?” There was a note of anxiety in his voice as if he needed reassurance that he hadn't left her behind this time. Alicia propped herself onto one elbow and looked down at him, still a little self- conscious at being naked in front of him, but enjoying the sensations his appreciative gaze were causing in her. He only had to look at her for her skin to start heating up and tingling most pleasurably. She laid herself carefully back down onto the smooth skin of his chest, which she'd been pleased to see was, for the most part, healed. It was good to lie like this. It brought a closeness that she'd never felt before. A special kind of intimacy and honesty. “I enjoyed it last time, my love. It must surely get better and better.” “I intend to make sure of that.” His hand moved once again, pushing into the mass of her hair and letting it rain down onto her back. “You have such beautiful hair. Do all women wear their hair like this?” “Not loose, unless you are very young. I would usually have had it pinned up, if I was still in outside society. That is something I especially like about being here. I don’t have to conform to the rules of society. And,” she gave a small laugh, “I don’t have to wear a corset.” “I should like to have seen you in your corset.”

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“Then perhaps I’ll show you, but only because I know you are interested in women's fashions.” “Ahh.” “Ahh, what?” “About the book...” “It's all right, Damien, you don't have to discuss it now, I have a much better idea for something to do right now. How about this?” His soft groan told her that she was being somewhat successful, but to her surprise he took hold of her roving hand and stopped her, then he slid from the bed and padded across the room, totally unconcerned at his nakedness. She watched him gather up his pen and ink and a sheet of paper. As an afterthought he rooted through the drawer of his desk for a book, and also brought out a small box. He carried everything back to the bed, arranged the paper on the hard cover of the book, and put the inkpot safely on the side table. Alicia sat up, perplexed by his actions. Surely he wasn't going to start writing poetry now? Then she remembered they were supposed to be writing down what they’d done so that future generations would know. She pulled the sheet up over her breasts and leaned forward. “What shall we write?” Damien slipped back into the bed and snuggled up beside her, his arm around her. “I want to give you a present first. Here, these are for you.” It was the small box he'd retrieved from the drawer. “Open it. You are mistress here now, they should belong to you.” 288

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“My goodness, Damien, these must be worth a fortune.” She looked at him, astounded, then back to the jewellery box filled with what she could only guess were his mother's pieces. “You can't mean to give these to me?” “And why not?” He picked up a heavy emerald necklace and held it against her chest. “Can I put this on you? I think it will match your eyes.” “Damien, this is too overwhelming...” “No, don't say any more.” He undid the clasp and slipped the heavy chain around her neck, then leaned back to inspect his work. “God, you're a beautiful sight, and one, I have to say, I have fantasised about often. Look at yourself in the mirror.” Her mouth was suddenly dry as she knelt up, letting the quilt fall away as she inspected herself in the large mirror that leaned against the nearby wall. “I look, I look...” “You look like the woman of my dreams Alicia, Lissa.” He came up behind her and slid his arms over her shoulders, letting his fingers rest lightly on the gems. “Do you know what a torment it has been imagining you like this, all sleep-tumbled hair and smooth white skin, just aching for my touch and wearing nothing but these gems?” “You have?” She brought her own hand up to cover his as he fingered the stones. “Damien, are you recovered yet?”

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“I am more than recovered, my love.” He sat back down and reached out for her hand. “Come, we have to do this, then I’ll show you just how recovered I am. How shall we word it?” Alicia lay back against the pillow, not really capable of any thought save what they would be doing in just a few moments. “You choose the words - after all, you are the poet. Then read it to me.” “It should be plainly written, I think. So that future generations know exactly what we’ve done here tonight.” She watched him carefully dip his pen into the ink-pot and gnaw on his bottom lip as he thought about it. He wrote for a few moments, stopping occasionally and staring into space as if looking for inspiration, then resumed his scribbling. Seemingly satisfied, he signed it with a flourish and handed her the pen. “Sign it too, Lissa, then we’ll date it. It think it’s the twenty -fifth day of July.” She too signed her name, weighed down suddenly with the magnitude of what they were doing, and wondering if it would ever be seen by anyone after this night. “Read it to me, Damien, then I want you to make love to me again.” Resting her chin on her knees, she waited, hoping that someone from the future would read it. Someone special who would understand. Damien shifted back until he was beside her, placing a swift kiss onto her cheek. He lifted the paper carefully, 290

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mindful of the wet ink, muttered that someone one day would invent ink that dried straight away, and began. I, Damien, Lord Lucius of Rossendale do ask future generations to bear witness to the marriage of myself to Miss Alicia Stanton of Shell Bay, in the County of Devon. Undertaken this night in the chapel here at the Lucius mansion, and before God and the spirits of my ancestors. And what God has joined together, no man will ever break apart, for now and throughout all eternity. Signed on this the twenty fifth day of July, year of our Lord, eighteen thirty five by Damien Lucius and Alicia Stanton Her sight blurred as she watched him blowing on the ink to dry it. They were bound together for all eternity. That choice was already made. He slipped the now-dry paper between the pages of The Tales of Gregor and the Huntress and placed the book on the bedside table. “Was it simple enough, Lissa? Do you think they will understand?” She could only nod her head, because she was quickly choking up with tears. “Yes,” she managed at last. “I think some very special people will read this, and they will hear the message we are sending them. Now come here, my love, for all I want to think about for the rest of the night is you.”

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Chapter 21 There are times in one's life that can only be described as periods of quiet before the storm. Times when you know that change is coming, and that every moment is precious. When you need to live each and every moment to the full. Alicia sat herself on a bench in the herb garden, flicked back her wet hair and contemplated the many questions turning over and over in her mind. The promise of a happy future with Damien dangled tantalisingly within her grasp. His words had given her courage, but Evan’s shadow still threatened to spoil the future they’d so naively planned together. Flora had been unable to find out where Evan had been, or what his intentions were, and for now all they could do was wait for him to show his hand. The sun warmed her, and she closed her eyes and decided that today none of that existed. Not Crosbie, nor Evan, nor the outside world. Today she was a fairy princess trapped in a land where the sun always shone and her only concern was singing and dancing and making love with her handsome prince. She opened her eyes and squinted up at the back of the house, trying to work out which window was Damien's, and wondering if he was watching her. He had a spell on him, she decided. A wicked witch had cast a spell that condemned him to be forever in the dark. Only the love of a beautiful princess would break it. She smiled to herself, wondering whether she should write the story down for posterity as Damien had done with the Tale of Gregor and the Huntress. It would be a 292

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good story. One to tell their children, and only slightly more fantastic than the real story to date. The fantasy occupied her for a few more moments as she went on to contemplate what her handsome prince was actually doing while she sat, drying in the sun. She'd organised a bath for herself and Damien and was hoping to be able to talk Alex into using it too, for he was sorely in need of one. Flora had bustled in to perform her usual task of washing Damien's back, and, although Alicia would have been more than happy to do that for him, she knew she couldn't just suddenly take Flora's place without offending her. Not when Flora was willing to be so understanding of the developments between her and Damien. Flora had very tactfully left the two of them alone for a good part of the morning so they could enjoy the simple pleasure of waking up in the same bed. They'd talked and kissed and touched in the quiet space between sleep and properly waking, unhurried and with nothing more pressing to do than to just be together, lazily planning their imaginary future. One that both of them knew lay tenuously in the balance, but which they spoke of regardless because there had to be hope. Without that, how could they go on? Alicia had assured Damien this solitary existence was no hardship as long as she was with him, and he more than compensated for the things she was giving up. She wanted a girl that looked like her and a boy that looked like him, but thought that, having said that, it would probably turn out to be the other way around. She never wanted to have to wear a corset again, and hoped that one day he might be introduced to Dana, who she was sure would love him. 293

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Damien had confessed his secret wish that a cure would be found for his disease, although he held out little hope that it would be in his lifetime. He wasn't sure about children because he didn't want them to be condemned to live the life he had, and also because he understood childbearing to be a risky undertaking. He'd expressed an ardent desire that she might wear the corset just to satisfy his curiosity in the matter and said that he looked forward to meeting Dana, and felt sure that it would happen one day. Flora had smiled and hugged Alicia warmly when she'd seen the ring, showing that at least she approved of what they were doing. Alicia was grateful for her support, so she’d sneaked downstairs to dry her hair in the sun while Flora tended to her motherly duties. It was not yet noon and already the day promised to be glorious. Bees droned as they went about their business and butterflies dipped in and out of the plants. The sky was a brilliant blue and in the distance the sea glittered as the sun reflected off the gently swelling waves. At one time Alicia would have considered it an idyllic scene, but all she saw now was a place where Damien could not be. He would never be able to warm his face in the sun or take a midday walk along the beach with her, and she almost felt guilty for still enjoying being outside when he could not be. She hadn't missed the sadness on his face when he’d encouraged her to go. She determined not to stay too long, and watched as Alex let himself in through the gate of the walled garden, the morning's kill slung over one shoulder, a rifle over the other. What part could he play in her story? she wondered. The huntsman, returned from the forest? He'd make a good huntsman, she decided. The dogs, two long-legged hounds of indeterminate parentage, 294

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spotted her first and ran over to her, snuffling about her skirts for treats. At Alex’s whistle they both turned sharply and bounded back to him. Alicia beckoned Alex over and he nodded in acknowledgement as she expressed delight at his successful morning's hunt. He sat on the bench with her, dropping the string of rabbits and pigeons onto the ground and carefully placed the rifle between them. Alicia picked it up, surprised at the weight of it. Alex’s hand reached out to support the long barrel. “Careful where you point that. It's loaded. Is everyone in the 'ouse?” “As far as I know.” Alicia closed one eye and sighted along the barrel. “Damien is taking a bath and I thought perhaps we'd leave it out for you. You look sorely in need of one.” Alex chuckled at her remark, wiping his face with the back of his spare hand. “Gun oil don't come off too easy. Is it that bad?” Alicia looked at him sideways and nodded. They both laughed, and she returned her attention to the gun. “So, what do I do?” He seemed quite happy to let her play with it; guns, she knew, were a topic he could talk incessantly about. “Pull back the ‘ammer slowly. That's right. Now point over there.” Alicia did as she was told with slightly trembling fingers, struck for the first time by how much power such a small piece of metal and wood held. “I'll cut your hair for you if you'd like me to. After your bath.” 295

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“Can if you like. Brace it 'ard or you'll 'urt yourself.” He slipped an arm around her back and pulled the gun into position, fitting it snugly against her. Leaning his chin on her shoulder, he sighted a target. “Aim for that post over there.” The post took on the guise of the evil witch in her mind. Alicia closed one eye and aimed carefully for it as Alex steadied her. He had an odd relationship with Damien, she mused. One that veered between deference and contempt, depending on what mood he was in. Sometimes treating Damien as master and at other times telling him to go to hell and have done with it. He appeared to the casual observer as rough and uneducated, which she supposed he was, but as the weeks had passed he'd begun to show Alicia a side of himself that she suspected people rarely saw, or cared about. She’d been a little worried that he was falling in love with her too, but he'd never overstepped the mark. He seemed to have accepted that she was for Damien, and also – possibly a little sadly – that a refined young woman would never look at someone like him in that way. As she hitched up the rifle and rested her finger against the trigger, she knew that she had a determined and trustworthy champion in Alex. Someone who would loyally stand by her right to the bitter end if needed. She uttered a silent prayer of thanks for that. If they were going to stand against Evan they would need to be united in their determination. She had no idea which way Flora would ultimately go, but it was comforting to know that Damien and Alex would be with her.

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“Right, squeeze it gentle. Don't do it sudden.” Alex stayed where he was and Alicia fired off the shot, both of them jerking back as she let the stock slip. And both of them laughing as the head of the scarecrow, some distance behind the post, jumped then slowly toppled from its stick. “Missed by a mile.” Alex pushed her up and righted himself, then took the gun from her. “Could give you lessons if you like. You could come 'unting with me.” Alicia turned a smiling face to him, unable to suppress the surge of excitement that firing off the shot had sent through her. No wonder men liked striding around with guns slung over their shoulder. The feeling of power it gave you was intense, and thrilling. Fear and respect. These were male ambitions, surely, but Alicia was discovering that she could like them as well as any man. Crosbie would not have been so bold with her had she been holding one of these. She looked down at the dead game and wrinkled up her nose. “I should like to learn to shoot, however I'm not sure I could kill a living creature.” “Would do if you 'ad to. All need to eat, don't we?” “I suppose so.” She felt herself blushing as she remembered Crosbie, and wondered if she could trust Alex with her secret. She was confident that he would understand, but perhaps she ought to speak to Damien about it first. “Target shooting would be fun. Perhaps I could teach you to read in return. Would you like that, Alex?”

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Alex picked up the game and pushed away the dogs who were snuffling around Alicia's skirts. “Get back, Meg.” He slung the gun over his shoulder and stood. “Never took to book learning, but I suppose you could try.” He gave a small laugh as if he'd suddenly thought of something. Alicia cocked her head and nodded encouragement. “What is it, Alex? You can tell me.” “Was just thinking that 'is Lordship 'as some very interesting books I wouldn't mind reading.” “Oh, you’re interested in fashion and romance too?” Try as she might, she’d been most unsuccessful in her attempts to engage Damien in conversation about them. “Kind of.” Alex winked at her but did not seem about to elaborate, and Alicia let it drop. “Why do you call him that?” “Call 'im what?” “His Lordship. Can you not call him Damien?” “Could do. If I wanted.” “I think he'd prefer it.” Alicia thought she ought to stop there as she hadn't actually asked Damien what he liked Alex to call him. She just knew she would prefer it if the two of them could be more civil with each other. Alex was turning away, looking a little as if she'd overstepped the boundaries of what he was prepared to talk about.

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She thought he was leaving then; he did in fact take several steps towards the kitchen door. Just as she was about to call him back he stopped and turned to her. “Any more like you at 'ome?” She didn't catch his meaning at first. “More like me? Oh, yes, I have a sister, and I miss her greatly.” “What's she like?” He looked down, surveying his oily, bloodstained hands. Almost as if he already knew he would stand no chance with any female in his present state. Alicia didn't miss the gesture, and she was struck for the first time by how handsome he would look if he were made a little more presentable. Up till now he’d almost made a virtue out of his ignorance and coarseness, but his thick brown hair needed only washing and cutting to a more modern style, and he had strong regular features and dark, soulful eyes that would have many a young girl swooning at his feet. Alicia suspected that, once he realised this, unlike Damien he'd be one to take full advantage. “She’ll be seventeen by now, “ she told him, remembering that she'd missed Dana's birthday while she was away. “She's taller than me and has long brown hair. She's really very pretty.” “Would she like me?” His eyes, when he lifted them to her, held such sadness and longing that Alicia could only have one answer for him. She shaded her eyes against the sun's glare and looked up. “I think she'd like you very much Alex, but,” 299

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she added mischievously, “She'd really want you to have that bath, too.” He broke into a broad grin at this, looking as if he was immeasurably happy at the prospect of any woman on the planet even noticing him. “Then I suppose I must,” he said turning to go. “Do you really think she'd like me?” “I do, Alex. I do.” And this time when she said it, she really meant it. **** Damien stepped back from the music room window and moved quickly to the piano. It was completely normal for someone to have friends other than their spouses. He knew he couldn't expect the whole of Lissa's world to be centred on him. Despite all these rational thoughts and stern lectures, he'd still found himself staring just a little too hard as she'd laughed and talked with Alex. And he hadn't been able to stop the knot of tension growing in his stomach when Alex had put his arm around her when she'd fired off the gun. He hastily opened his music and stared at it, trying to remember just what is was supposed to sound like. Lissa would be with him in a few moments; she'd looked up at the window before rising and leaving the kitchen garden and it wouldn’t do for him to be caught glaring at her like a jealous idiot. These were feelings he must learn to control. If they were out in society they would have many friends and he would no doubt have to watch her being admired by a whole army of men, for who could fail to be attracted to her?

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If the truth were told, he wasn't so much jealous of Alex; rather of the fact that Alex was able to be out in the sunshine with Lissa and he was not. There would be places where they could go and he would be excluded and, although he'd vowed not to let it hurt, he couldn't help it. He cautioned himself to be calm as he heard footsteps approaching and the door opening, but when he saw Alicia he leapt up and grabbed her around the waist, kissing her as if she hadn't only been gone a mere half an hour. She pulled back in surprise at the intensity of it, frowning a little and trying to work out the expression on his face. He pulled her in again and kissed her with even more determination until he heard a stifled giggle. “Why, Damien, anyone would think I'd been away for days. Have you missed me that much?” “I always miss you when you're not with me. What was Alex doing?” Damnation, he'd said it. He hadn't meant to and now she was going to think he was spying on her. He hastily backtracked. “Because I don't mind if he wants to teach you to use a gun, I really don't. You didn't think I did, did you?” She slipped out of his tight hold, leaning backwards and taking hold of his hands to steady herself. “You have nothing to worry about, Damien. I love Alex in a completely different way.”

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“You love Alex?” His mouth was so dry he almost choked on the words. How could she love Alex, when she loved him? “As a brother, silly. As you probably love Flora as a mother.” She stared twirling round and round, her long hair flying out behind her, taking him with her and making him feel quite dizzy. When she didn't seem about to stop he manoeuvred them both over to an armchair and threw himself into it, pulling her with him. “I'm sorry, love.” He gave her another kiss while she was off guard and she giggled again. “I just want you all to myself. Although,” he added hastily, “I know that is not possible.” He leaned back into the chair and watched her as she sat, perched on his knee, grinning at him. There was a mischievous gleam in her eye that he'd only ever seen the night she'd got drunk. “Enlighten me. What is so amusing?” She leaned towards him, her face suddenly serious. “Can you keep a secret?” He nodded dumbly, feeling a little thrown by her answer. What on Earth was she going to tell him now? “I'm not Lissa any more.” “You're not?” He sat up at this and slipped an arm around her waist. “Love?” She shook her head vigorously. “And you are not Damien.” 302

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“I’m not?” Was this a game? He tried to follow her, hoping he didn't look too stupid, for he was sorely unused to conversations of this sort. Philosophy and music he would have had no problem with. This kind of banter was so new to him he didn't know what to do. “So, who are you, then?” “I am a fairy princess, come to rescue you.” “And I am?” “You are the handsome prince locked in a tower by an evil witch, of course.” “Ahh, this is a story.” He understood now, and settled back. “So, how do you intend to rescue me?” She wriggled against him and thought for a moment. “Well, I'm going to learn to shoot and then I'll kill the evil witch.” That made him laugh. “That’s a variation I've never heard before. You are something of a modern girl, I think? And then what will you do?” “Well,” she favoured him with a coy smile and leaned in very close. “Then I will take you back to my castle and make sweet love with you. Would you like that?” “I think I might. What is it, Lissa? You are in a very strange mood.” “I know.” She sighed and raised her head, gazing into his eyes for a few moments before kissing the end of his nose. “I just feel in need of some frivolity at the moment. I'm sorry if I'm confusing you. Last night was 303

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so wonderful that I want to hold on to the feeling for as long as I can. Just for today I’m determined that we shall be happy.” “Then you shall be, and I shall try not to be confused by it.” He wanted to say more, for he was feeling much the same. Indescribable happiness mingled with fearful anticipation of what was to come. Two emotions so opposite, yet both producing the effect of making him feel even more out of tune with the world than he normally did. He looked at her and felt pure joy at his good fortune. It wasn't something he just accepted as his due, having never expected it. But now he had it, he felt that he needed to live every moment of it, because alongside the joy was the feeling that it was simply too good to last. Lissa felt solid enough in his arms, but any moment now she could turn into a ghost and simply dissolve into nothing. He blinked at her, realising that she was staring curiously at him, the smile still hovering about her lips, an unspoken question in her eyes. “I'm all right, love. Nothing is going to spoil today, not even my silly jealousies.” “Thank you.” She flung herself on him and gave him a quick squeeze. Sliding from his lap, she extended her hand. “Dance with me, Damien.” “I can't.” He allowed himself to be pulled up nonetheless, letting himself be led by her mood. One of her hands slipped around his waist, the other rested lightly on his shoulder. “Why not?” She took a few steps back, pulling him with her, but even if she hadn't been holding him he'd have 304

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gone willingly. The way she half-closed her eyes, the way she moved, it drew him as surely as if she'd bound him to her. “Because I can't dance.” “It's easy. Just follow me.” She counted the time as she pulled him after her, nearly overbalancing them both in her enthusiasm. “It’s a waltz and caused an enormous scandal when it first became popular.” “Oh, and why was that?” Damien stumbled to keep up with her. He muttered an apology as he trod on her foot and tried to focus on her face to stop himself becoming too dizzy. “Because it involved couples holding each other in a way thought most scandalous at the time.” He wasn't going to let that one go. Her coy smile told him that it was his cue to pull her in closer. He did, unfortunately tangling their legs in the process and pitching them into a heap onto the floor. “Hmm.” He untangled himself from Lissa’s skirts and smoothed her hair from her face as she lay giggling beneath him. “I think I like this even better. Now, come here you minx, I...” At that moment the door opened and Alex appeared, looking considerably cleaner than he usually did, his hair dripping wet. Damien stood up abruptly at the intrusion, cursing Alex under his breath for interrupting their moment. He extended his hand to Lissa, who lay where she’d landed, still giggling to herself. She reached up and placed her hand in his, allowing him, to his relief, to 305

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pull her up. But then, to his surprise, she ran to Alex and stood in front of him, her arms folded. “That was quick. So, am I to do it?” Alex ran a hand through his shoulder-length hair and shrugged. “S’pose so.” Alicia gave him a brief hug. “Don’t move from this spot. I’ll fetch the scissors.” He dutifully did as he was told, hands in pockets, glancing every now and then at Damien. “She was teaching me to dance.” “Never ‘eard it called that before.” “It’s none of your business.” Damien stomped over to the piano and sat on the stool. For a moment he glared at the music, then he turned back to Alex. “Be careful with the gun around Lissa. They're...they're dangerous and I'm not sure I want her messing with them.” “You going to stop 'er then?” Alex raised his eyebrows and looked pointedly at him. “'Cause I'd like to see you try.” “Of course I'm not.” Damien slammed the music book closed and stood up again. “I just don't want her to get hurt, that's all.” “Well, that's something we 'ave in common then. She's safe with me.” “She's safe with me too.” Damien forced himself to stand still, clenching his fists at his sides. 306

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Alex gave a small laugh. “Don't think she'd want us fighting.” “I'm not going to fight you.” Damien felt himself colouring and shoved his hands into his pockets, mirroring Alex's stance. “I think you sometimes forget who I am.” “No I don't.” Alex shook his head with a sigh. “Just think we ought both look out for ‘er. Seems she's going to need all the ‘elp she can get. Am I right?” “Yes.” At least they were in agreement on that. He only hoped Alex didn't want anything else of Lissa, because if he showed the slightest hint of it then he was going to get a punch in the face. As it was, Damien spent the next half an hour pretending to read his music books while Alicia cut Alex's hair. There was rather too much giggling and laughter going on in their corner of the room for his liking, but he managed to keep himself calm, only looking over at them now and then. Whenever Alicia caught his eye she smiled warmly at him, which made him feel a little better and when she'd finished, and declared herself satisfied with her work, he grabbed her hand and dragged her, still giggling, up to his bedroom where they both finished what they'd started on the floor of the music room. **** Alicia stretched sleepily and stifled a yawn. She raised herself up on one elbow and gazed at Damien, who dozed beside her. Taking a lock a lock of her hair, she tickled his nose with it, watching in amusement as his 307

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face twitched and he muttered something under his breath. Being in bed in the middle of the afternoon reminded her of her stay in Virginia where the ladies would withdraw to their bedrooms to escape the heat of the day. They wouldn't sleep, of course, but would spend an hour or so laughing and telling stories, some of which she'd found rather shocking at the time. A few of her friends had admitted to having intimate relations with their fiancés, and one had boasted that she'd slept with a dashing stranger at a ball while her parents danced downstairs. Alicia hadn't believed her, but she found herself missing them all, especially now that she had something to contribute to the conversation. What would they think when she told them about this, she wondered, tickling Damien again. Alicia, for whom no man had been good enough, had actually found one who met her exacting standards. The older ladies wouldn't approve, of course - it was altogether too strange a liaison. The younger ones, however, would think this most romantic. She swept the lock of hair across Damien’s lips and this time he did wake up, batting it away as if it was a fly. He smiled sleepily back at her when he realised what it was. “What time is it?” “Late, I think.” She peered over at the clock on the mantelpiece and was shocked to find it was almost halfpast five. Where had the afternoon gone? “I think we had better show our faces or Flora will be sending up a search party.”

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Damien stretched his arms, bringing them down suddenly when Alicia tickled his ribs. “We haven't had much sleep these last few nights. I'm glad she didn't disturb us.” “Sleep? Is that all you were concerned with?” “Of course not.” He pulled her down to him and whispered into her hair. “There were a few other interesting things.” “Such as?” “Well, there's this.” Alicia gave herself over to the kiss with a soft sigh. Afterwards she didn't feel like getting up any more, but knew that they should make an effort to do so. “You are very talented, my Lord.” She watched Damien leave the bed and pull on his trousers. He walked over to the washstand, looking rather pleased with himself, as he did after they'd made love, and splashed his face with water. “In what way?” He spoke casually, as if he really didn't care what his talents were, although she could tell that it would please him greatly to hear them. “Well, you play the piano. You write. You have a brilliant mind and you sing, although I have yet to hear you. And your kisses make me breathless and weak.” Damien returned to the bed and sat on the edge, his shirt in his hand. Alicia trailed her finger over his thigh. “And as for this…I have no one to compare you with, but I already know that I have no need to.” 309

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“I'm very glad of that,” he said, slipping the shirt over his head. “What about the rest?” “The rest? Is there more?” “There should be, Lissa.” He took both of her hands in his and stared at them. “Does it not bother you that I can't shoot, or go hunting, or perform any of those other manly pursuits? If we were poor our children would starve before I could support them.” “No they wouldn't. I would do it.” As soon as the words were spoken, Alicia knew she’s said the wrong thing. “But I’m a man. Supporting you would be my job.” Alicia pointed to her shift which lay on the floor. He handed it to her. “Damien, you really have no idea what is going on in the outside world. I’ve read about these things in newspapers. Women and children are working unspeakable hours, in dreadful conditions in the mills and mines, and they are finding work more readily than the men because they are cheaper to employ.” She slipped into the shift then pulled on her frock, turning around so he could button it up for her. “You are a lord, Damien. Even if you could go outside, you would not have to concern yourself with earning a living, as you don't have to now. Other people would work for you and you would just enjoy the benefits. But if we were poor, we would both have to work and you would have to give up your romantic notions of being the sole breadwinner.”

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She took his hands again and held him fast. “No, don’t run away from me. Have you understood what I was trying to say?” “No,” he shook his head and turned his face away. “So, I’m entertaining and good at this, but of no other use?” “What has got into you, my love? I didn't say that. Come here. I love you exactly as you are. I don't want you to change anything.” How did she explain how she felt about him? They’d pledged themselves to each other and spent the afternoon making love. They should have been happy. Yet Damien looked as miserable as she’d ever seen him. Perhaps she’d forgotten just how sensitive his feelings were? Today she’d been determined to banish gloomy thoughts, and she had been successful up till now. Maybe it wasn't as easy for him? “You say it doesn't matter, Lissa, but you were impressed enough by Alex when he showed you the game.” Ahh, so that was it. He was still brooding about seeing her with Alex. She took a deep breath and let go of one of his hands. Shifting back, she leaned against the headboard of the bed and pulled him over to her, patting the bed as she did so. “Sit here with me, Damien. We must talk about this, I think.” He hesitated for a moment, then swung his legs up on to the bed, chewing his lip as he glanced sideways at her, 311

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and looking somewhat sheepish. As if he realised that he was being unreasonable, but couldn't do anything about it. “You know I love you,” she began, checking carefully to make sure he was listening. He seemed to be, even though he was staring down at the quilt. She continued. “You and Alex are different people. He is good at some things and you are good at others. If you were out in the world you would realise that everyone is different. But, Damien,” she took him by the chin and turned his face to hers. “I'm going to need you both - you do know that, don't you?” Damien nodded. “That's what Alex said. I just feel so inadequate in all this. What good will playing the piano be if they come for you?” She almost wanted to laugh at that, but thankfully managed to quell the urge. The thought of Damien playing the piano in the face of danger was suddenly hysterically funny. Alicia knew the laughter would soon turn to tears if she started, and also that it would offend him greatly. She knew exactly what he was trying to say, but there wasn't anything she could do for him except give reassurance. “I wouldn't have come with you if I didn't think you could keep me safe. And I wouldn't have agreed to marry you if I didn't love with everything I have.” His eyes opened a little wider, a glint of hope in them at last. “I know you're worried for me, and perhaps I was foolish to want to ignore the danger. It is just my way of coping. And this is yours. See? We are both people with 312

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many fine qualities, but we have faults as well - as everyone has. Don't try to be perfect for me, Damien. I love you just the way you are.” He squeezed his eyes closed and Alicia waited. She knew by now that this was his way of gathering himself and that he would talk to her when he was ready. Poor thing, she thought. He has so much to learn, and he does not realise how much I love him. **** Feelings and emotions. They were so complicated. He'd spent his whole life only having to worry about how he felt. Very rarely had it crossed his mind that his sudden changes of mood might affect anyone other than himself. Even when he'd tried to kill himself, he'd only given a fleeting thought to how Flora might react. Now he was behaving like a sulky child and making Lissa feel bad because of what he felt were his own shortcomings. It was an uncomfortable feeling to know that he'd spoilt her happy mood. When Damien opened his eyes Lissa was waiting for him, her own eyes clouded with anxiety. Her breathing was just a little too rapid and her hand gripped him tightly. He berated himself for being such a selfish fool when she needed him so much. She might have talked for an hour, flattering him and telling him how wonderful he was, but she had only to look at him and he knew everything he needed to know. He wrapped her in his arms and whispered sorry, greatly relieved that she returned his embrace as warmly. “Shall I learn to shoot too?” She lifted her head, a half-smile on her mouth. 313

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“In the big barn. Do you think Alex would teach me?” “Of course he would, Damien. But you don't have to.” He raised a hand to silence her. “I think I do. As much for my sake as yours. But don't expect me to be the big brave hunter. I'll leave that to Alex.” She giggled at that. “Does this mean you'll come fishing with me and Alex tonight? It will be such fun. Do say you'll come.” Handling a gun was one thing, but going out in a boat? Just thinking about it made his stomach churn. “Of course I will.” His reply was half-hearted in the hope that she'd hear the doubt in his voice and tell him he didn't need to go after all. Unfortunately, Lissa hugged him again and declared that they were going to have a wonderful time. If they caught any fish Alex would build a fire and they would cook them for supper. With a sigh, Damien resigned himself to it. Lissa’s warm body pressing into his made him realise that bravery wasn't always measured in flamboyant, heroic acts. This woman, with her exquisite, fragile beauty and soft curves, was the bravest of them all. She barely reached his shoulder in height, yet he already knew she would take on someone twice her size if the need arose. Her strength wasn't physical. It came from somewhere deep inside her. It was a part of her, and she would fight even if she knew she didn't have a hope of winning. That's just how she was.

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She'd been right, and so had Alex. They needed to stand together in this. Their strength was in their differences that's what he should have been concentrating on. Not wasting his energy trying to measure up to what he'd misguidedly thought she wanted. Damien sighed and held her, wishing they could stay like this forever. “I will come out in the boat with you, because it will make you happy,” he told her. “But I warn you now that I will probably be seasick.” “No, you won't,” she replied. “I'll be there to hold your hand. Now come. Let's go and see if Flora needs any help with dinner.” **** Aunt Joan's residence, Bath. “Who is it, Johnson?” Aunt Joan looked towards the drawing room door as the butler announced the visitor. “He says he's just come from Devon, madam. And that you would know what it was about.” She walked over to the window as he made his announcement, unwilling to let him see how the news had affected her. “Well, don't just stand there. Show him in.” She made her way back to her chair and sat down, arranging her skirts and hoping that this time there would be some news. The man, still in his travelling 315

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clothes, was shown in and the butler dismissed. This was for her ears alone and she prayed the news would be good. These last few weeks had been a torment for everyone, particularly for Dana who had not passed a day without tears. The man bowed respectfully and removed his hat. She indicated a chair. “So, do you have anything to tell me?” She folded her hands in her lap and waited while he rummaged in one of his pockets. Glad that he at least had something to show her at last, but rather fearful of what it was. He passed the handkerchief over to her and she inspected it carefully. She’d recognised it immediately as belonging to Alicia. Hand-embroidered, from Paris. “Yes, it is hers. Where was it found?” “A young girl in the village. Said she found it on the cliff road a few days after the date you mentioned.” “You paid her for her trouble?” “Of course.” Aunt Joan looked at the handkerchief with a sinking heart. The latest gossip on The Stanton Affair, as it was being referred to, was that Alicia had been so racked with grief at Crosbie's accident, thinking him to have died, that she’d thrown herself from the cliff. Aunt Joan crumpled the linen in her hand and felt tears pricking at the back of her eyes as she now contemplated the very real possibility that what they said was true. 316

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But the man hadn't finished talking. He fished again in his pocket, bringing out two sheets of paper and handing them to her. She scanned the first one, wondering what it all meant, and then remembered a conversation she'd had with Alicia when they'd first returned from America. “And these witnesses swear that they saw the Ghost of Lord Rossendale on his way to hell on the same night? But, that is just a legend, surely?” “They swear, madam. Some heard it and some saw it. The Lucius family crest was on the coach, plain as day. It went through the village, at considerable speed, then just disappeared – according to the village drunk.” “And Crosbie is still looking for her?” “He is, madam. The reward is now up to twenty pounds. He's mad with grief at losing her, apparently.” “Is he, now.” Aunt Joan's eyes narrowed as she peered through her spectacles at the second sheet of paper. We are anxious to find the missing person of one Alicia Stanton, described as small of stature and of blonde hair colouring. Any information will be treated in the strictest confidence and, should this lead to her safe return, then a reward of twenty pounds will be forthcoming. She carefully folded the paper and laid it on the table in front of her. “You've done well. Get yourself a meal in the kitchen then Johnson will show you a room for the night. And tell him I want to see him.”

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The man rose, and bowed again before leaving the room. Aunt Joan contemplated her next move as she waited for the butler. Beaches needed to be scoured and enquiries made along the coast for any bodies that may have recently washed ashore. That would be a painful task, but she was hoping that it wouldn't come to that. She had a sneaking suspicion that she knew where young Alicia might have been hiding these past few weeks. And if she was proved correct, then the young lady had been right under their noses all this time. But this must be done discreetly and carefully. Alicia would never have run away as she had, and put them to all this worry, unless she had a very good reason. “Ah, there you are, Johnson.” The butler interrupted her thoughts as he stood, waiting for her instructions. “Fetch Miss Dana for me, and inform Sylvia that we will be leaving for Devon in the morning. She may begin packing for the both of us.” As he left she picked up the handkerchief once more, remembering how unusual she'd thought the design. It was most definitely Alicia's, but what had she been doing on the cliff road that night so soon after Crosbie's accident? He'd slipped and injured his head, apparently, but why had that caused Alicia to run away? So many questions. She looked up as Dana appeared, her poor face thin and drawn with worry. Holding out her arms, she engulfed her niece in a hug. “Have you found her, Aunt Joan?” “I don't know. my dear, but be assured I will keep looking, no matter what the cost.” 318

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“But why are we returning to Devon if you have no news?” Aunt Joan patted her back comfortingly. “I may have some news, Dana. That is why we are leaving for Devon in the morning. There is something I need to investigate.” Dana raised a tear-stained face to her aunt and stared at her. “Is it good news?” Aunt Joan nodded, hoping fervently that she was right. “I hope so, my dear. I do hope so.”

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Chapter 22 Alicia was to look back on the fishing trip as one of the happiest times of her life. Comradeship. Love. The soothing warmth of a summer's evening. The moon washing the world silver. The gentle rocking of the boat. The expression on Damien's face when he caught his first fish. Precious memories, each one of them. But there was something else that would ensure it a place in her heart forever. A moment when the three of them were lying on the beach, looking at the almost-full moon holding court amongst the stars. Her head in Damien's lap, each of them quiet and caught up in the stillness and calm of the night. It had felt to Alicia, just then, that the whole of the universe had suddenly moved into perfect harmony. As if, at some silent command, each and every living thing had shifted to its rightful place where it could be happy and content. She had felt as though she were a part of something so vast, so complicated and yet so simple, that she could see and feel everything. Just for a split second she understood perfectly that they were all part of something so much bigger than their individual selves, and for that one moment she was utterly content and at peace. For that small blessing she murmured a silent prayer of thanks. The memory of this moment would sustain her and keep her. It would remind her that happiness was often right under her nose and it required only that she be able to recognise it. When she needed it, this memory would still be there; no-one would ever take it away from her, and she'd be able to go to it in her mind and relive the happiness, no matter where she was. 320

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**** As he lay on the beach, Alicia's head in his lap, Damien considered the possibility that nothing in his life would ever match this moment. He thought he'd been happy when he’d first made love, and, of course, he had. And then, last night in the chapel, he and Alicia had pledged themselves to each other and he'd wondered how anything would ever surpass that. But this moment had crept up on him quietly and without ceremony, and, as he gazed up at the moon and the infinite number of stars, he realised for the first time who he really was. He'd never properly known before. Had spent endless hours gazing in the mirror, wondering what other people saw and thinking that's who he was. And even when Lissa had come along, he thought he'd seen himself in her. Now he knew that he wasn't any of those people. He wasn't someone who existed just because other people said he did. And he was no longer the invisible boy who lived in the old, dark house. He was Damien, a person in his own right. He loved Lissa because of who she was, not because he wanted anything in return from her. Even if she stopped loving him, he'd still love her. Although the moment passed almost as quickly as it came upon him, something very profound had happened to him. Lissa needed his help, and he knew now that he'd give it without thought of himself. It was a good feeling. It meant he could think more clearly and act more rationally. That's what she needed right now, and it was what Alex was offering her. A solid, reliable champion who would stand at her back, no matter what. Alex must realise that he stood no chance with her, yet he was there anyway. 321

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Damien almost laughed out loud at the thought that he should learn any lessons from Alex. He watched his foster- brother throwing more sticks on the fire and turning the roasting fish, and understood what Lissa had been trying to tell him. They were all different, but together they made a formidable team. He wondered vaguely if the moonlight might be as bad for him as the sun was, but he'd felt no ill effects, so he took a deep breath and muttered a quiet prayer of thanks, because at that moment he had nothing else to do but be happy. **** The following morning, Alicia dragged the sack of flour from the pantry and hauled it to the table. Pulling an apron down from the hook, she tied it around her waist and picked up a scoop. Before her arrival at the mansion, the only time she'd made bread had been when Cook had let her help as a little girl. Otherwise she'd never really had to concern herself with such day– to-day trivia as this. Her father may have been foolish with money, but he'd always managed to find it for the things that helped them to keep up their appearances. And having a cook had been one of them. But here, if they wanted bread it fell to her or Flora to make it, and today Alicia had volunteered for the task. Besides, she was getting rather good at it, even if she did say so herself. Not as good as Flora, obviously, but she was getting there. She turned to look for the large mixing bowl and saw Damien walking into the kitchen. He moved behind her, slipped his arms around her waist and kissed the top of her head. 322

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“Not ready yet? Come on, I'm hungry.” Alicia leaned back into his embrace and closed her eyes, remembering the previous evening, and thinking how different Damien had been when they'd returned to the house. His anxieties and jealousies seemed to have given way to a calm acceptance of things. As if he'd come to a decision of sorts. She didn't know what it was, but he had an air of quiet determination about him this morning, and she liked him like this. It was nice to see him coming out of himself and showing more confidence. To have him tease her for a change without the underlying anxiety that he might not be getting it right. He was doing it now. Telling her that the bread should have been ready, and what had she been doing all morning? “You know full well where I've been this morning,” she said, swatting him away and picking up the bowl. “If you require bread for lunch, then you should not keep me so occupied.” He moved good-naturedly to the rocking chair and sprawled back into it. “I don't recall any protests on your part, madam. Hurry up with that bread. I find I've worked up quite a hunger.” Alicia put down the bowl and walked over to him, hips swaying. “Oh, you have, have you?” She threatened him with a floury hand. He ducked out of her reach. “If you're not careful, I shall have you make the bread, and I shall sit on that chair and complain.”

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Damien laughed, pulled her down for a swift kiss, then spun her around and gave her a little push back towards the table, patting her on the bottom as he did so. “I don't think so. As you pointed out last night, I am a lord, and lords don't make bread.” Alicia suppressed a grin at his playful behaviour. She liked it when he teased her, but that didn't mean she was going to stop teasing him. She was just formulating a suitable reply when Alex arrived, his face taking on a look of considerable disappointment when he realised that lunch wasn't anywhere near ready yet. He walked to the sink and worked the pump, rinsing his hands. “I'm starving,” he said, shaking the water from his hands and looking at her as if she should have realised that. “Thought it'd be ready by now.” Alicia looked from one to the other. Damien was still smirking at her and Alex was staring forlornly at the bowl of flour. She smiled sweetly and reached for her apron strings. “I think I might take myself off to see the new kittens in the barn,” she announced. “Lunch will be delayed today. Unless, of course, one of you would like to make the bread?” She pulled the knot free, raised her eyebrows and held out the apron. “Which one of you would like this?” Damien shook his head vigorously and looked at Alex, who hastily backed away a few steps. “Don't look at me. I'll go get Mother.” “Flora is busy,” Alicia said, biting at her lip to stop herself from laughing. “Are you implying that men are 324

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not capable of doing something a mere woman does with ease?” Damien turned back to her. “Men do not make bread because it is a woman's job, not because they are incapable of doing it.” “Is that right?” Alicia handed him the apron and deftly side-stepped him. “Then you may prove it to me. I shall give you an hour or so, and when I return I expect to find the loaves risen and ready for baking.” Damien's smirk wavered just a little as he bunched up the apron in his hand. “And you will.” He didn't sound too convinced. Stepping up to the table, he looked dubiously at the bowl of flour. “How hard can this be? Alex, don't you dare leave. Come here. I'm going to need your help.” The last thing Alicia saw before she left the kitchen was the two men still staring at the bowl, and, she suspected, that was where she would find them when she returned. By the time she'd got to the barn she was almost doubled up with laughter. Flora wasn't going to be pleased because those two would never in this lifetime produce anything edible. She laughed again. At least they would discover just how easy this so-called woman's work was. She made her way to the small alcove where one of the garden cats had had her litter of kittens, and looked about for them. The cats were all semi-feral, but this one didn't seem to mind Alicia being around her babies. It jumped down from the nest and arched its back when Alicia stroked it. “Here, she said,” feeding it a scrap of rabbit meat. 325

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“Oh, you pretty little darlings.” Alicia was crouching down to reach for one of the kittens when she was suddenly aware of movement behind her. Typical, she thought. It had been no more than five minutes and already they were after her for help. She straightened again, a smile hovering on her lips, and spun round, fully expecting to see Damien or Alex. Instead, Evan stood behind her, blocking her exit from the stall, his expression set in stone. Alicia swallowed and took a step back. The moment she’d been dreading had come and, even though she’d been expecting this, she was totally unprepared for the overwhelming feeling of blind panic that descended as he moved towards her. He nodded his head toward a straw bale, indicating that he wanted her to sit down. Instead of doing as he wanted, she lowered her head and tried to walk steadfastly past him. He blocked her exit with his large body and grabbed her by the upper arm. As he propelled her backwards and down on to the straw, her mind flashed back to the night she'd killed Crosbie. Then she’d found something inside her that had given her a strength she didn't know she possessed. She glanced at the man holding her fast. Evan was no Crosbie. Crosbie had been evil, but Evan, as he stood before her, looked to be the very Devil himself. She staggered a little, trying not to sit. Evan pushed her firmly down and stood over her, still holding her arm. When she clawed at his hand, he shook her hard. His grip was like iron. He wasn't about to let go. She raised her eyes to his and was surprised to find, after his initial roughness, that he was smiling genially at her. The thought crossed her mind that perhaps he didn't know anything, after all. But then, why would he 326

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be behaving like this? He obviously knew full well what she'd done. The question was, what would he do next? “What do you want?” Her voice shook and she knew that her face must be reflecting the terror she felt inside. She kept very still, remembering that struggling against Crosbie had only seemed to excite him more. Evan continued to hold her, calmly considering his answer to her question. Alicia concentrated on breathing, because suddenly it was a struggle to do even that. Perhaps she could bargain with him? If he was involved in smuggling, as she suspected, surely he wouldn't want the law here? When she opened her mouth, Evan shook his head as if he were warning her not to even try to outsmart him. “Depends what you have to offer.” That made her take notice. He did seem willing to negotiate, which gave her a small spark of hope. “Who are you?” “Never you mind who I am, Alicia Stanton.” He stepped back, letting go of her arm. Watching her, a slightly amused expression on his face, as she struggled to hide the reaction to her real name. She rubbed at her arm, wondering how much of her story he knew, and what she could possibly have that would buy his silence. He stopped looking at her face then, and dropped his gaze, moving it slowly down her body. Letting her know exactly what he was after. Liked them young. The younger the better. 327

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Flora's words rang in her ears as he watched her, and for a moment the fighting spirit came back. How dare he do this? It seemed to her at that moment that all a man ever wanted from a woman was to take her to bed and use her for his own pleasure. First Crosbie and now Evan. She forgot how noble Damien had been about it all. Forgot that it had been her who had forced the issue of them sleeping together, when he would have waited. As she raised her chin and faced Evan, she vowed that she would never give in to him. No matter how much he threatened her, she wasn't going to go to his bed. She would tell Damien, and he and Alex would come to her rescue. But could she really ask it of him? Evan's next speech made her realise, with a sinking heart, that she could not. “I suppose you are thinking about running to Damien?” Evan shook his head and, when he leaned forward and spoke very close to her ear, she smelled stale beer on his breath. “He's a pretty lad, isn't he? Or perhaps Alex will run to your defence?” He cocked his head, noticing her reaction to Alex's name. “Are you spreading your legs for him too? It seems that you have found your vocation, Alicia.” “I am not…doing that with Alex.” She tried to stand, but he pushed her easily down again, and she almost landed on the nest of kittens. The mother cat spat angrily as Evan's hand shot out and grabbed one of them. Alicia watched the poor creature dangling by the scruff of its neck, mewing pitifully for its mother. “But he will defend me. Make no mistake about that. And so will Damien. Let me go, Evan, what more could 328

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you possibly want from this estate? It's obvious you are stealing Damien's money.” He nodded in agreement, stroking the kitten as he spoke. “You are an intelligent woman, so I'll not insult you by trying to deny that. But, you see, you can never have too much money. Come, Alicia, you must have something to offer me besides a quick tumble.” “And if I haven't, what will you do?” She couldn't take her eyes off the kitten. Evan was holding it by its tail now, watching her reaction to its suffering. With a flick of his wrist, he flung it back into the nest. “Well,” he considered for a moment. “I think I shall break each of Damien's fingers in turn. Then I will beat Alex so hard, he will not have a face left. Is that enough to persuade you? A sudden wave of nausea washed over her as the images filled her mind. “You cannot fight both of them. They will fight you together, and Flora will not stand by and let it happen. I will tell them what you intend to do.” “Alicia, Alicia.” He took a step towards her and bent down, leaning an elbow on one knee. “You would not even have left this barn before I had done it. Do not make the mistake of thinking I am another Crosbie.” “But I have nothing to give you.” Alicia shrank back as his face hovered near to hers. He had her, and it was too horrible to think about. For herself she had no concern, but for Damien and Alex? She didn’t want either of them to die for her. What use would it be, for, without Damien, how could she go on? 329

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Suddenly she remembered she was wearing her wedding ring. As she wrenched it from her finger she reminded herself that it was just an object, a material thing. Damien would still love her without it. He'd understand if she told him that she’d lost it. “Here, take this. It must be valuable.” She extended it to Evan, who took it, his face creasing into a frown. “Where did you get this?” “It was my mother's. I've had it with me all this time, and I've only now chosen to start wearing it.” He twirled it between his fingers and raised his eyebrows. “And where are the rest of them?” Alicia felt tears pricking at the back of her eyes. She blinked, hoping they wouldn't spill in front of him, and tried to keep her voice firm and unwavering as she answered him. “I don't know what you mean, I...” She didn't finished the sentence. In one swift movement he had her on her back, his knee between her legs and his hand at her throat. “I'm getting tired of this, Alicia. I think Damien gave you this ring, because you are wearing it on your marriage finger. I also think that there are probably more where this came from, and I want them. Am I making myself clear?”

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He released his grip for a moment so she could nod, then he pressed down again with such force that thought she might pass out. His solid weight left her in no doubt as to his strength and his ability to carry out his threat against Damien and Alex. Or to do as he wished with her, if he so chose. Then, just as quickly, he was off her and stepping away. She sat up, coughing, a hand at her neck. Hoping it wouldn't bruise. She had no idea how she would explain the marks to Damien without putting him in danger. Evan made a tutting noise with his tongue, as if he were scolding a child. “You really have no right in wearing Damien’s engagement ring, you know. Not when you are already engaged. Isn't that known as a breach of promise?” Alicia's hand stilled as she rubbed at her throat. “What do you mean? Crosbie is dead. How can I still be engaged to him?” It hit her. The truth of the matter hit her so hard that it nearly knocked her down. Her heart started such a slow, heavy thudding that it hurt, and her eyes scanned Evan's face wildly for evidence that he was lying. His triumphant look told her that he was not. Crosbie was still alive, and she wasn't a murderer. The world blurred about her as she struggled with the full implication of what she was hearing. Relief and dismay filled her in equal parts. “Yes. He didn't die, after all, and you all this time thinking that he had? Of course, he's half-mad now from the rather large hole in his head that you left him with, but he wants you back. No, don't worry.” Evan raised his 331

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hands. “I haven't told him you're here. Not yet, anyway. The reward is not nearly enough for me to squander my advantage at this stage. So listen carefully, and I'll explain what we are going to do.” Crosbie was alive. My God, I’m not going to Hell after all. She didn't need to because she was already there, right now. She felt Evan grab her arm once more and steady her, his face coming close to hers to make sure she heard what he had to say. “You will pretend that you fell in the barn and that will explain the bruise on your arm. Then tonight you will bring the jewels here and leave them...” he looked around for a suitable hiding place and pointed to a small ledge. “Leave them up there. Are you listening?” She managed a small nod, but his voice seemed very far away against the roaring in her ears. It sounded so much like the conversation she'd had with Crosbie on the night that had changed her life. How could Crosbie be alive? He hadn't been breathing, she'd seen it. Evan shook her once more. She swallowed the painful lump in her throat and tried to focus her attention on is voice. He could have the jewels. Why was he making such a fuss? The safety of those she loved was worth far more than a box full of jewels. “Are you listening?” “Yes, Evan. You will have your jewels, but in return noone will get hurt, and Crosbie will not find out that I am here. Is that agreed?”

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“Don't presume to dictate terms to me, young lady. I may yet require more than the jewels in return for my silence.” A tremendous weariness descended on her then as she realised that she would never win against him. And also that what he'd just said was true. If Evan wanted her, then he could have her. If Damien was willing to die for her, then surely she could do this for him? It wouldn't be nice, but it wouldn't kill her either. Damien need never know. She raised her face to Evan's and looked him straight in the eye. “Don't underestimate me, Evan. I am doing this for Damien and Alex, and for that reason alone. My own life is worth nothing to me. I meant to kill Crosbie. Understand that if you do hurt them, you will have me to answer to.” “Fighting spirit, eh? I was wondering when you were going to show it.” Evan leaned very close to her once more. “I like it.” He straightened again and clapped his hands together, as if bringing a meeting to a close. “So, you are all safe for now. Just bring me the jewels tonight and be prepared to linger awhile, and no one need know about our little conversation.” With those words he spun on his heels and strode out of the barn. Alicia tried to stand up. Her legs were trembling so much they wouldn't hold her. She felt behind her for the hay bale, and lowered herself down, then all she could do was hug herself and shake from the shock of what had just happened. The storm had broken and everyone's safety lay in her hands. From the moment she'd arrived she'd put them all in danger, and for the first time since 333

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she'd taken shelter here she wished she hadn't come. A brief thought of running away again crossed her mind. She dismissed it. Evan would simply carry out his threat. No, she'd endure this and get through it. She had no other choice. One of the kittens crept into her lap as she curled up into a ball and closed her eyes. She stroked its soft fur. We'll get through this, we'll get through this. It went over and over in her mind, and soon there was nothing but that. If she repeated it often enough, then it would be true. An hour later she was still saying it. **** Alex made his way across the yard that led to the barn. The dogs, sleeping in the sun cast him a half-hearted glance as he passed. Damien had sent him to find Alicia because the bread-making had been a complete disaster. All they had to show were two flat, rather burnt-looking objects that no more resembled bread than he did. If Flora saw the state of lunch, she wasn't going to be pleased. Neither was Evan. As he thought of his father, Alex saw the man himself crossing the garden. He instinctively ducked into a doorway to avoid him, and couldn't help smiling when he saw Evan climbing the kitchen steps. Damien could explain why there wasn't any lunch. He was supposed to be master here. Let him take the blame for a change. He waited until Evan had disappeared into the house, then he made his way into the barn, making a mental 334

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note never again to be rude to Lissa about her breadmaking skills. It had always looked so easy when the women did it. Flora's bread was always light and fluffy, but theirs looked like a stone. Evan wasn't going to be pleased at all. He liked his food, and he liked it on time. Alex called softly for Lissa and waited for his eyes to adjust to the dim interior of the barn, thinking that he wouldn't go back in the house if Evan was going to be in a bad mood. He'd rather go hungry than be beaten up. He called again, stooping to stroke the mother cat as she approached him, looking for food. “Don't 'ave anything for you. Where's Lissa, eh?” The cat looked at him as if it should know what he was talking about, and that made him laugh. “You seen 'er, then?” At this the cat took off across the barn. She led him straight to where Lissa was lying, and that made him laugh again. “Take you 'unting with me if you carry on like this. Lissa?” It took him a moment to realise that Lissa was lying down, and she seemed to be talking to herself. He put a hand on her shoulder and called her again. “Lissa, you all right?” She started so violently at his touch that it made him jump too. For a few seconds they both stared at each other, breathing heavily. “God, Lissa, but you did make me jump. My 'eart nearly stopped. Were you asleep?” 335

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“Was I?” Lissa sat up and looked around, running a hand through her hair and then rubbing at her arm. He noticed and nodded towards it. “'Ave you 'urt yourself?” “What? Oh, my arm.” She dropped her hand – rather too quickly, he thought – and shook her head. “It's nothing, I fell and bumped it. How did the bread-making go?” He grinned at this. “Disaster. Just left Damien to explain to Evan why there's no lunch. Wouldn't want to be in 'is shoes.” “You did what? You left him with Evan?” “Don't worry. Evan won't kill 'im for that. You sure you're okay? You don't look too good.” “No, I'm fine. Alex, I don't like Damien being alone with Evan. Will you go back there and be with him?” “Not likely.” Alex shook his head and stood aside, motioning Alicia towards the door. “Come on. I'll walk back with you, but I'm not coming in if 'e's there.” They crossed the yard in silence, Alex glancing at Lissa occasionally and wondering why she wouldn't meet his eye. She was usually so open and full of smiles, and had been only an hour ago. She should have laughed at their predicament with the bread, but it had barely registered. And she had a strange look in her eye. One he hadn’t seen since the night they'd found her on the cliff road. Her hand kept straying to her arm, and to her throat. Something was very wrong.

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As they reached the back steps she stopped and looked at him. “Are you coming back in?” “If you want me to.” He didn't want to go in, but she didn't look as if she wanted to, either. She was staring at the back door as if she expected the Devil himself to emerge from it, then looking at him as if he should do something. Her behaviour was confusing him, so he stuck his hands in his pockets and waited while she decided what she was going to do. “I do want you to, Alex.” She gave him a small smile, which made him feel a little better. “You cannot mean to let Damien take all the blame for the awful bread?” “That was the idea. What's wrong, Lissa?” “Nothing, Alex. I hurt my arm, that's all. Come on, let's go inside.” “I can 'elp you, Lissa. Whatever it is you're 'iding from. Let me 'elp.” She turned to him and the flash of sadness that clouded her face was there so briefly, he almost thought he'd imagined seeing it. But he knew he had seen it. Knew by the way she was now smiling too brightly at him, and linking her arm in his, pulling him up the steps with her, that something was terribly wrong. It wasn't the something she'd arrived with. This was something else. He knew they all thought him too stupid to bother with, and there were certain advantages to that because it meant people left him alone. It also meant that he got to hear and see things that he shouldn’t have. And he'd 337

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been watching Evan these past few days. Seen the way he'd looked at Lissa when her back was turned. Alex knew when his father was up to something. Evan always had some scheme on the go. Alex remembered the times when, as a small child, he'd been given letters to deliver to the gate, to some mysterious person or other. That hadn't happened since he'd been old enough to question why he was doing it, but Lissa was hiding here for a reason. A reason that involved large amounts of blood, and of course his father would find out what she'd done. If there were any advantage to him, then he'd take it. Alex smiled back at Alicia and decided to watch his father very carefully. Something had happened to her in the barn – and if she wasn't going to tell him, then he'd just have to find out. He opened the kitchen door and peered around it , relieved that Evan seemed to have left. “It's all right, Lissa, 'es gone. It was Evan you were worried about, wasn't it?” All he got in response was another smile and a declaration that Evan didn't worry her in the slightest. Alex didn't believe her for one minute. **** Damien dropped his book and rose from the chair. He wasn't looking forward to showing Lissa their breadmaking effort. For some reason, the loaves had refused to rise, even though he was sure he and Alex had done everything correctly.

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“Erm, it didn't go very well.” Alex stood by him as Lissa walked to the table and inspected their efforts. She picked up the loaves and let them drop back onto the table. They landed with a heavy thud that made him wince, and he hastily tried to formulate a suitable reply to the witty comment she undoubtedly had ready. To his surprise, she said nothing. She simply stood in front of the table, her shoulders shaking, and he soon realised that she was laughing. In fact she was laughing so hard that she had to lean onto the table for support. Damien breathed a sigh of relief. At least she wasn't annoyed, and it was rather funny. Even Evan had thought so, having come into the kitchen in something that could almost be called a good mood, which for Evan was rare indeed. He'd made a comment about women being at least useful for some things when Damien had explained what had happened, then he'd left, whistling to himself. “What did we do wrong? They just refused to rise.” Lissa looked up at him, her laughter subsiding momentarily. “You did use yeast?” “Yeast? Oh, Christ, I knew there was something missing. All right, I concede this battle. You and Flora are the bread-making champions of this house and I will never complain about it again.” “You forgot the yeast?” This sent her off into another fit of laughter that was totally disproportionate to the culinary disaster that lay before her. It was funny, but surely not that funny. Damien looked at Alex, who, instead of joining in the laughter, was just standing there, a frown on his face, staring intently at Lissa. 339

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Damien looked from one to the other, thinking that he was perhaps missing something. Lissa seemed to be finding this far too funny, and Alex looked the picture of concern when they'd only wasted a few scoops of flour. Eventually, all he could do was pull Lissa over to a chair and sit with her on his lap until the hysterical laughter subsided. When she at last lifted her head, there were tears on her cheeks. She gave a few last sniffs and felt inside her sleeve for a handkerchief. “Where did Alex go?” “I don't know. To his room, I think.” She managed something of a watery smile, calming down at last. “I’m never going to attempt to make bread again if it makes you this hysterical. I love you, Lissa. I never want to upset you.” He leaned in, his hand slipping up through her hair to hold her as he kissed her. It was a gentle, undemanding kiss that spoke of love, rather than lust. A kiss that told her exactly what he was feeling. He loved her and he was there for her, no matter what. He pulled back to see if she'd got the message, and she sniffed again and nodded. “Thank you, Damien. You know that I love you as much, don't you?” “Of course I do, you silly thing.” He kissed her again because her lips were just too inviting to resist. It was the first time he'd done so and not immediately wanted to carry her to bed. This kiss was for comfort and for 340

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friendship and for true love. It was because he worshipped and adored her. It was for the overwhelming sense of gratitude he felt simply because she was in his arms. “I do love you, Damien, I do.” She said it as she kissed him back, whispering it against his cheek, his eyes, his throat. “I will never stop telling you that I love you.” “And I will never tire of hearing it.” “Promise me you will never forget it.” Her hands were in his hair, smoothing it insistently back. She repeated the gesture over and over, scanning his face with anxious eyes. “I know you love me, Lissa.” “No, say it. I want to hear you promise.” “Then I promise. How can I forget you love me when you tell me so beautifully?” She kissed him again, and there was a message in her kiss too. It said I love you, and I always will, but there was something else. Something he didn't really want to hear, but the words kept going round and round in his head as her lips moved over his. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry...

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Chapter 23 Alicia slipped a silk shawl around her shoulders and kissed Damien on the cheek. “I think I’ll take a turn around the garden,” she announced. “You don't mind, do you?” He looked up from his book and tilted his head so she could kiss him properly. “No, of course not. It will probably do you good. You've been very agitated this afternoon. You're not getting bored of being here, are you?” “No, Damien. Please don't think that. It's just such a lovely evening, it seems a shame to be indoors.” “It does that.” Alicia watched him bury his head back in the book, aware that her comment had probably upset him a little, but too worried about what she had to do to give it the concern she should have. “I could wait until later, when the sun has gone down. Then you could come with me.” He looked up, smiled and squeezed her hand. “Such a shame that you've lost your ring already. We must look for it tomorrow. Now go, Lissa. It's all right, it really is. I have more than enough to keep me busy for the next hour or so. Besides, you’ll be with me all night.” He pulled her back down for a swift kiss. “That will more than compensate. Now shoo.”

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“Thank you, Damien. I won't be long.” She scuttled away before he could notice how badly her hands were shaking, and with no idea whether she was actually going to be able to go through with this. The jewels posed no problem - they were already in a bag, pinned beneath her dress. But the other thing? Evan had asked her to be prepared to linger, and then she'd truly believed there was nothing she wouldn't do to keep her loved ones safe. But now? The very thought of him touching her made her flesh crawl. Evan was a huge, rough-looking man who was as different from Damien as anyone could be. For the first time she truly understood why anyone would want to lie back and think of England while they were making love. She shuddered. A thousand Englands couldn’t erase this memory from her mind. She wouldn't be thinking of England, she realised. She'd be thinking of Damien with his fingers broken and Alex battered and bruised. That was what would give her courage and that's what would get her through this. With a resolute breath she opened the kitchen door, only to be confronted by Flora making her way up the steps with a basket of washing. It was too late to avoid her, so Alicia carried on walking, hoping Flora wouldn't want to stop and talk, because the sooner she did this, then the sooner it would be over. “Lissa, my dear, are you going for a walk?” Alicia tried to smile, aware that when someone was nervous they probably smiled a little too brightly and falsely. Flora frowned and put down the washing. “My dear, whatever is wrong?” 343

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“Nothing, Flora, I'm fine. Why does everyone keep asking me that?” “Possibly because you do not look fine. Come, the washing can wait. I will walk with you and you can tell me what it is.” She disappeared momentarily into the kitchen and Alicia let out a frustrated sigh. Evan would be waiting. Flora reappeared, wrapping a shawl about her shoulders, and linked arms with her. She patted Alicia's hand and led her down the steps. “Now, tell me what it is that is bothering you. If you are having problems in the marriage bed, then I have considerable experience in that area. I may even be able to give you a few ideas.” “Flora!” Alicia pretended to be shocked as Flora nodded and laughed. “That's better. You are so pretty when you smile. Now come.” Alicia walked rather reluctantly along with her, hoping Flora hadn't seen her staring at the barn as they'd passed it. Was Evan already inside? The sun would soon be setting and she really couldn't justify staying out too late or Damien would get suspicious. Flora led her to the bench where Alex had given her the shooting lesson. “Let's sit a while, and you can tell me what happened to the bread this morning. Whatever possessed the boys to take up baking? It's unheard of.” “I think they were trying to prove they could do as well as a woman. I'm afraid it was my fault.” 344

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Flora snorted. “Ha! Men, what do they know? Without us, the three of them would starve. Now, are you going to tell me what's bothering you? I may be able to help.” “Everyone wants to help me, but no one can Flora. Please stop asking me.” Alicia stood and tried to walk away. Flora rose too. “Now you have me worried. Is it Evan? Has he said anything?” “No, he hasn't.” Alicia turned away. The mere mention of Evan’s name placed an icy chill around her heart. Her lip trembled when she tried to speak, and before she could reply Flora had her back down on the bench, a comforting arm about her. “What has he said?” “You can’t help me, Flora.” She hadn't missed the look of fear that had clouded Flora's eyes when she'd realised what was wrong. She might be in love with Evan but she was obviously as scared of him as anyone. Alicia shook her head, and sniffed back tears that were threatening once again. Tears that she suspected were going to be close companions in the weeks to come. “I've put you all in danger by coming here, and now only I can put it right.” “Has he found out what you are hiding from?” “Yes, he has.” Lissa extracted herself from Flora's embrace and folded her hands in her lap. “I will do what I have to do to keep you all safe. You must not try to stop me.” 345

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Flora was quiet for a long moment, her mouth set in a thin line as she thought about what Alicia had said. She stood up and smoothed out her skirts. “Where are you going?” Alicia stood too, taking hold of Flora's arm. “I am going to give Evan a piece of my mind. He will not get away with this. This is a step too far.” Flora turned to leave. She seemed so determined to have it out with Evan that Alicia had to hold on to her with both hands. “Please don't say anything, Flora. He's threatened to hurt you all if I don't do something to buy his silence.” Flora gently extracted herself, the look in her eye telling Alicia that she wasn't going to be swayed. “He said he'd break Damien's fingers, and maim Alex for life.” “Damien's fingers? Did he really say that?” Flora stopped in her tracks. “And Alex will fare even worse, I think.” “Oh, my poor Damien. How will he play the piano if Evan does that?” Flora covered her mouth with her hand as she contemplated the horror of what she'd been told. Alex's fate, however, barely seemed to have registered. “I can stop him, Flora. Let me do this and help me keep it a secret. Damien gave me some of his mother’s jewels and I'm hoping they will keep Evan happy for a while. I really fear a confrontation if Damien and Alex find out, 346

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so you must help me. You will if you care about Damien as much as I do.” That hit home. Alicia could see by the way Flora stiffened her spine at the implication that she might not love Damien enough to make sacrifices for him. “I would give up my life for Damien.” Flora looked her straight in the eye as she spoke. “There is nothing I wouldn't do for him.” “Then you will understand how I feel, Flora. I must go. Evan will be waiting.” As Alicia tried to walk away Flora called after her, more softly this time, her voice holding a note of sympathy. “Has he asked for anything other than the jewels?” Alicia turned back to her. “He said I should be prepared to stay a while. Oh Flora, what did he mean?” “Come here, you poor girl. I was hoping it wouldn't come to this. He has been watching you, I know, but I did not think he would be so bold.” Alicia allowed herself to be engulfed in Flora's arms once more. “What shall I do, Flora? I don't want to go to his bed. How could I ever go back to Damien after that?” “You will not have to.” Flora moved back and looked at her. “Do you hear me? Leave him the jewels. They will be more than enough to make him happy. But do not give him all of them. Then you can use the rest to bargain with. I will see to the other thing.” “Oh, Flora, are you sure?” 347

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Flora gave a laugh that had no humour in it and stepped away. “I do not flatter myself that he would prefer me to you, but between me and the jewels it may distract him enough to keep him away from you.” “Flora, you should not have to concern yourself about such things at your age.” Flora raised an eyebrow at that and Alicia could see that she was trying to stop herself from smiling. “At my age? My dear, I hope that you will remember this conversation when you are my age.” “Oh, Flora, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to...” “It's all right, Lissa. As I said, you will think back on that comment and laugh one day.” “My real name is Alicia, as you’ve probably guessed, and I can never imagine laughing again.” “You will, my dear, and I like the name. It suits you. Now go and do what you have to do. I will try to distract Evan if he turns up.” “Thank you, Flora. You're a remarkable woman.” “No, I'm not. Like you, I would do anything to keep Damien safe.” Alicia turned to go, then stopped. “Flora… Why do you not love Alex?” “Whatever gave you that impression. Of course I love him.” 348

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“I think he's very lonely, Flora.” Alicia didn't press the point; it wasn't the time for this conversation, and Flora looked reluctant to discuss it anyway. Alicia was determined, however, to talk to her about the way she treated Alex, because it was tied up with the way Evan treated him. And that brought her thoughts back to Evan and what she had to do. Flora was urging her to go and get it done, so she made her way to the barn, looking around as she entered it and praying he wouldn't be there. It was, thankfully, empty, and she breathed a sigh of relief and quickly dragged over a wooden crate to stand on in order to reach the ledge Evan had indicated earlier. She felt under her skirt and brought out the jewels, tipping some into her hand and pulling the drawstring of the bag closed. He'd just have to be happy with these for now. Flora was right. Keeping some back would give her more to negotiate with. That might keep Evan away from her for a while longer. As she felt for the ledge, dropping the jewels onto it, she couldn't help wondering what she would do when she had nothing left to bargain with. Perhaps Evan would relent and be happy with what he had? Oh, what was that? Her hand landed on something soft and furry, and she pulled it away in surprise. How on earth had one of the kittens got up there? “Come here,” she said, pulling herself up so that she could just about see onto the shelf. “Your mother will be wondering where you are.” She reached up again and picked up the small creature, and only then did she notice that it wasn't moving and that its fur was slightly damp. Even then, it took a few 349

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moments for her to realise it was dead. She stared, horrified, as if it might suddenly jump out of her hand. It didn't. The poor creature had been drowned. And left as a message for her. A cold knot formed in her stomach and the colour drained from her face when she saw that they were all there, neatly arranged on the shelf. The kitten dropped from her hand and she slipped from the box, landing with a thump on the floor. She sat where she'd landed, her head spinning, wondering how her legs were ever going to hold her and get her back to the house. She needed to get up and go now, before he came. After this she wasn't strong enough to face him tonight. She managed to get herself upright and out of the barn, knowing that she couldn't go back into the house in this state without making Damien suspicious. At the far end of the vegetable garden stood a row of glass-houses. She ran towards them, thinking to have a few moments of calm before she went indoors. She was only vaguely aware of Alex calling and running after her. As she slumped against the wall of the greenhouse and slid down onto the cold earth floor, she didn't realise he'd come in with her until the sound of her name started to filter through the haze surrounding her. For a moment she thought it was Damien. Closing her eyes, she tried to gather her wits and still the shaking of her hands. “Lissa, Lissa, what is it?” Alex’s face came into focus, swimming in and out of view as she opened her eyes and fought to keep her senses. “If 'e’s touched you, I'm going to kill 'im.” 350

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That brought her back with a jolt. She grabbed his arm and held on. “No, you mustn't. Please, Alex, he didn't, he didn't.” “Then what?” Alex knelt back down in front of her, his face a picture of concern. She also saw anger there, simmering in the background. The kind of anger that was going to make him do something monumentally stupid. Alex had never beaten his father before and there was no reason to think that he was going to start winning now. She held on to him for grim death, twisting his sleeve and pulling him even nearer. “Sit with me and I'll tell you why I'm so upset.” For a moment she thought he might break free, but he gently untangled her fingers from his sleeve, nodding at her as he did so. She released him reluctantly, and he twisted himself to sit beside her. Propping his elbows on his knees, he stared at the far side of the greenhouse. “You should let me 'elp you.” The simplicity of the statement touched something deep inside her. Even though Alex was nowhere near Damien's intellectual equal, he could be surprisingly wise when he wanted to be. “You can't, Alex.” She turned to him and managed a small smile. “But thank you, I don't know what I'd have done without you and Damien.” “You really love 'im, don't you?” 351

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“I do, Alex. I'm very fond of you too. You know that, don't you?” He studied his fingernails for a moment. “Damien wouldn't like this, you know. You not telling 'im stuff.” “I can't, Alex. You know I can't.” “You can tell me. Got a score to settle with my so-called father. Might as well ‘ave it out.” “No, Alex. Please don't, not now.” She took hold of his sleeve again, more gently this time. Even as she felt herself shifting towards resignation to her fate, she had the horrible feeling that Alex was moving towards a decision that would probably be the death of him. His calmness told her that, and she knew that she was powerless to stop him. “It's all right for now, Alex. Things are under control.” “I'm not going to stand by and watch, Lissa. You know that?” “I know. Just be careful, please.” “I don't 'ave to be careful. I got nothing to lose. Who's going to miss me?” “I will, and so will Damien.” She almost shouted it at him, so horrified was she at the bleakness in his voice. It was so easy to lose oneself in one's own troubles and forget that others might be hurting too. She'd been so concerned with Alex’s physical wellbeing that she'd forgotten that both Evan and Flora had already hurt him in ways that couldn't be seen from the outside. 352

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“Promise me you won't do anything stupid?” “Who, me?” She smiled dutifully at his joke. “We can't get through this without you, Alex. Please remember that.” He was quiet for a moment as he contemplated her words with a small smile of his own. “Will do.” “Thank you.” Alicia wanted to hug him then, and not just because he was willing to make this sacrifice for her. She could feel how badly he needed someone to show they cared. Her hands stayed in her lap. They were all too vulnerable right now. Any gesture she made might so easily be misinterpreted, and that would only make matters worse. She stayed where she was when he finally got to his feet, and shook her head when he offered her his hand to help her up. “I need a few more moments, Alex. If you see Damien, would you tell him I'm still walking in the garden?” “All right, but 'es not going to like this when 'e finds out.” He turned to go, half-opening the door, then stopping. “Why were you so upset just now? There was something else.” “Evan drowned all the kittens, and I found them, and…” She didn't get any more words out because at that moment she just couldn't hold on any longer. As the bag 353

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of sixpences had been Damien's release, the kittens were hers. She tried to breathe and stop the tears falling, but it was no use - they came anyway, spilling over her lashes and running down her cheeks while she stared at Alex. Dead kittens. Secrets she shouldn't be keeping. The quiet courage of these people who were so determined to help her regardless of the danger to them. And that special kind of pain that comes when you truly appreciate the value of what you might be about to lose. It all came crashing down on her at once. Alex was beside her again, holding her while she cried, and she let it all go. If she didn't do this now, she was going to do it in front of Damien, and the thought of him confronting Evan was just too much to cope with. She knew he wasn't going to like being left out, and hoped he would understand that she needed to protect him. All she could do, as she brought herself under control once more, was to hope he'd never have to find out about this. **** Lissa stood at the bedroom window, gazing at the rapidly darkening garden. Damien touched her shoulders, feeling the tension and stiffness as his fingers rested there. She’d returned from her walk looking immeasurably sad and refused to tell him what was wrong. When he’d persisted in asking, she’d become so agitated that he’d backed down and not mentioned it again. “I missed you,” he whispered. 354

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Perhaps she hadn't been joking when she'd said she wasn't going to tell him everything? He was at a loss to know what she needed from him right now. For nearly half an hour she’d stood at the window, motionless and not speaking, as if she were struggling with something and trying to reach a decision. It terrified him. He had a good idea of what was going through her mind and knew it had to do with her being here, or not being here. “Come to bed, my love. I want to tell you something.” “What's that?” She leaned back so he could pull her gently to him. “Will I like it?” “I think so. You did last night.” He let his fingers move upwards into the heavy mass of her unbound hair, lifting it aside so he could kiss the back of her neck, tracing a line downwards with the tip of his tongue. When he reached the first button of her dress, he took it into his mouth and deftly undid it with his teeth, grazing her skin lightly as he worked it open. Kissing his way down to the next button, he felt her softening at last, the resistance melting away as she became caught up in what he was doing. He loved this almost as much as finding his release. The moment when his unspoken question was answered and she responded yes, she did want him and wanted him now. He felt it in the way she moved against him. The way he could hear her breathing when he couldn't before. The way the whole atmosphere around her changed as she responded to his touch.

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“See what a clever boy I am?” He smoothed the filmy material of her frock aside, watching his shaking hands in fascination as they slid over her cool skin. How did she do this to him? He only had to touch her and he could feel it. The heat and desire, the way she wanted him. The tiny movements she made that told him how much. It hadn't taken long to learn at all, and when she moaned against him it all went up another notch. Suddenly it was hotter, and harder to breathe. His head was spinning and the world narrowed down to sensation alone. There was no reason in this. He went with it because he was helpless to do anything else. If there’d been was a choice, he only got to make it once, because after that he’d been well and truly hooked and would have walked on his knees to Jerusalem, if he’d known she was at the end of it. She turned in his arms, her eyes watching him intently for a moment. They closed and her lips parted as she offered herself for a kiss. All he could do was look at her while she waited for him to move. He needed a heartbeat just to reassure himself that this woman was real and here, and she wanted him as much as he wanted her. She came to his rescue, bunching the fabric of his shirt in her hands. Pulling herself up and pressing her open mouth against his. Inviting him – no, commanding him – to kiss her. So he did, abandoning himself to the taste of her and steering her towards the bed. The balance of power shifting again as he lifted her onto the edge. He continued kissing her until he was seriously in need of breath feeling her hands twisting in his hair, her voice asking him what it was he wanted to tell her.

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He pushed her down on to the bed, crawling up beside her. Kicking off his boots, he lay back onto the soft cushion of her hair. “I don't have words enough for it. Let me show you.” “Yes, Damien, show me, tell me everything, I want to hear it all.” She'd almost come back to him. Her eyes still held a hint of that faraway look, but, now, where she'd been cool she was hot. Her cheeks were flushed with a rosy tint, her mouth moist, her lips slightly parted. Breasts rising and falling as her breathing quickened. She was watching him carefully. Waiting for him, and he realised that the thing she wanted most at that moment was reassurance. She needed him to tell her everything was going to be all right. They were going to live happily ever after. Even if it wasn't true, she needed to hear those words. Just as she'd woven a fantasy about him being a prince stuck in an ivory tower, now it was his turn to keep the world at bay for a few hours. He placed one hand on her neck, only the slightest touch, and traced gently down across the fine line of her collar-bone. The tops of her breasts spilled from the open gown. He touched each one with his lips. “A wise old man once told a story about a pearl.” Alicia shifted beside him, sighed and settled herself. Her mouth curved into a small smile and she nodded for him to continue. He did, slipping his hand inside her dress, pulling the fabric down so he could see how perfect she was. 357

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“Have I ever told you that these are like pearls?” He flattened his hand over one breast. She shook her head. “A bit bigger, but pearls nevertheless. He let his hand close over the soft flesh, massaging gently, watching her reaction. The faraway look was back, but this time it had nothing to do with shutting him out. He was right there with her. “Oh, by the way, I'm a terrible poet,” he whispered. “Now, where was I?” His fingers strayed to the other breast, giving it the same treatment as he continued. “He said that a pearl is something beautiful even though its birth is in pain and suffering.” Alicia's eyes narrowed for a moment as she contemplated his words. “It's all the more special, then?” “Yes, Lissa. Like our love.” He dipped his head then to kiss where his hands had been, nuzzling at her smooth skin as she held him in place, her hands in his hair. At last she let him go, and watched him sit up to pull his shirt over his head and unbutton his trousers. He took her hand and pulled her up too. Heavy and loose in his arms, she did nothing to help him while he undressed her. “Are you warm enough?”

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“I am with you beside me.” She wriggled into his side and took his hand, placing it on her stomach. “Do continue, Damien.” “We both came by the rocky path, Lissa. It hasn't been easy, has it?” His fingers opened and closed as they worked their way down the satin and ivory of her skin, and his control started to slip. He took a calming breath. “Do you remember the night we met? I was so scared that you were going to jump off the cliff and I wouldn't be able to convince you to come with me. Why did you come with me?” “Because I saw something in you… No, don't stop.” Her hand covered his, moving with him as he caressed her. “I knew you'd come to save me.” He did stop then, catching her hand when she tried to make his move once more. “You trusted me then, Lissa. Do you still trust me enough to let me help you?” “Of course I do. Damien, please…” “Then don't shut me out, Lissa. I can't bear it. Promise you'll always be honest with me. Promise you'll let me help you.” “I will.” “So will you tell me why you were so upset earlier?”

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Her face crumpled a little and for a moment he felt sorry he'd asked. She looked so sad, but he needed to know. He couldn't help her if he didn't know what was going on. “Evan drowned the kittens and I found them.” “I'm sorry.” Damien scanned her face, wondering if that was all, knowing he couldn't force her to tell him if she didn't want to. He couldn't even find out from Flora and Alex. She'd hardly confide in them before him. “Evan always does that. Otherwise we'd be overrun with cats. I'm sorry you had to find them.” “It was so sad, Damien.” “I know. Shall I ask him to save you one next time?” She shook her head, and he couldn't work out if she was saying she didn't want a kitten or that there wasn't going to be a next time. The conversation was over and she still hadn’t answered his question. She was kissing him again, pulling him over her, fumbling at his trousers, pushing them down over his hips. Opening herself for him. And he couldn't resist, as she knew he wouldn't. All he could do was go with her and lose himself for a while, forgetting everything but what they were doing to each other. She'd always be stronger than he was because she had this to distract him with and to lead him by. He was just a man, a poor weak man who was desperately in love. 360

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There wasn't anything he wouldn't do for her. He'd die for her. He already knew she would never let him. **** Aunt Joan's Residence - Bath. “Oh, Aunt Joan, I'm so sorry. It was such a silly thing to do.” “Sliding down the banisters at your age?” Despite the pointed look, Dana could see the corners of her aunt’s mouth twitching as she contemplated her. “The doctor says my ankle will be well enough to walk on in a few days. Will you go to Devon without me?” “Of course not, my dear.” Aunt Joan sat herself down on the sofa and took Dana's hand. “You might have broken your neck, young lady. What would I have said to your parents then?” “It would have been hard to explain.” With that, both Dana and Aunt Joan burst into muchneeded laughter. Dana continued to smile at her aunt who had been a veritable light in the darkness of this dreadful affair of Lissa going missing. “Are you sure it will be all right to postpone the trip? We really need to find Lissa.” “And we will, my dear. I have a feeling I know where she is.” 361

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“Is she safe?” “That I have yet to find out. I will send my man on ahead to make some more discrete enquiries, and we will join him as soon as you can walk properly. Now, did I ever tell you about the time I took it into my head to row to France? There was a man involved, of course…”

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Chapter 24 “Flora, what happened?” “Nothing, my dear. Don't fuss.” Flora turned back to the pan of porridge and began stirring it in earnest. “I tripped. Please don’t be concerned.” “Flora…your eye. Evan hit you…?” “Please, Lissa. I don't mind, really I don't. We said we'd do what was needed.” “Oh, Flora, I'm so sorry. This is all my fault. Put down that spoon, please.” Alicia caught Flora about the waist and drew her over to a chair. “Please, you must talk to me,” she pleaded. Flora sighed and sank down. “My dear, it is not the first time this has happened. I will survive it. You must tell Damien that I tripped so he does not suspect anything. I so dread a confrontation between him and Evan.” “Oh, Flora.” Alicia let go of Flora's hand and leaned her elbows on the table. She propped her chin on her hands and looked at the woman opposite. “I’m so tired of all this deception. Poor Damien. I think he knows I'm keeping something from him, but he doesn’t feel he can press me on it. Should I tell him, Flora? I think he needs to know.” “No, no, you must not.” Flora grabbed Alicia by the arm this time, her voice rising. “We agreed that he would not know. He will never survive a confrontation with Evan.” 363

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“But he should know. Alex told me that Damien isn’t going to like being kept out of this, and he was right.” “And what does Alex know? Oh, Lissa, please don't tell him.” “What else can I do? The only alternative is for me to leave here.” Flora took out a handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes. Rising stiffly, she returned to her porridge. “I'm not sure that would solve things now. “I'm sorry, Flora. You do know how sorry I am for all the trouble I’ve caused,” Flora remained where she was, her back to Alicia. “I know, my dear. I just wish it hadn't come to this.” Alicia sat at the table for a few moments, watching her friend with a sinking heart. Everyone seemed to be retreating into their own private misery. Misery she was the cause of. She was sorely in need of a sympathetic ear and Flora had always been so kind. “Please don't be angry with me, Flora. I value our friendship.” She heard Flora sigh, but still she didn't turn around. It was a few moments before Alicia realised that Flora was crying. “Oh no, Flora, don't cry. Please don’t.” Alicia rose quickly and walked over to the range. She wanted to hug Flora again but wasn't sure how that 364

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would be received right now. Flora wiped her eyes, and put down the wooden spoon very carefully. “Alicia, Damien is like a son to me. You have never had children, so you cannot know how that feels.” She raised a hand as Alicia opened her mouth to speak. “No. please let me finish. Evan is like a husband. At least, I have always regarded him as such. I would choose Damien without hesitation over him, but you have to realise how this is for me. If you tell Damien what is going on, one of them will be hurt.” “I know, Flora. Who is Evan? Do you know?” Flora gave a short laugh. “Have you not worked that out yet? He's the bastard son of Damien's grandfather, the old lord. “ Alicia took a step back. Now it was all falling into place. Being a bastard, Evan would have inherited nothing except for a great deal of resentment for the real heir. Damien. “And is he stealing Damien's money?” Flora's face turned pink and she tried to turn back to her cooking. Alicia caught her arm and held her. “You knew. All this time, you knew - and you said nothing?” “You don't understand, Lissa. I did it to protect Damien, and Evan has always felt all this was his due. It wasn't his fault that he came out on the wrong side of the sheets.”

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“How can you say that?” Alicia felt her voice rising as she realised the full effect of Flora's misguided love. “You condemned Damien to a living hell with the laudanum, do you know that? You've stopped him having a normal life, and you've helped Evan to steal his money. How is that protecting him?” “I did what I thought was best for him. I love him…” Alicia didn't dare answer right away. She was so angry with Flora at that moment she feared she might hit her. The woman seemed to have no idea of how her love had almost smothered Damien to death. So much so that he'd tried to kill himself. Yet, angry as she felt, she couldn't bring herself to say anything. Flora looked so stricken at that moment, and was breathing so hard, that Alicia seriously thought she might have a seizure. She hastily made her way across to the sink and fetched a mug of water, and anxiously watched Flora drink it while gulping in deep breaths between mouthfuls. “Go and lie down. You really don't look well. I'll watch the porridge.” “Lissa...” “You could have killed him, Flora.” “And I suppose what you are doing isn't going to?” Flora looked at her long and hard. “It is only because of me that Damien has survived Evan this long. Do you think anyone would have missed him if he'd quietly disappeared? By keeping him on the laudanum I was able to convince Evan that he posed no threat to him. Think very carefully before you do this, Miss Alicia.” 366

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It was the first time Flora had called her that, and it didn't sit right at all. Alicia watched with mixed feelings as her friend walked stiffly from the kitchen and she wondered if this rift between them could ever be healed. She closed her eyes and pressed the palms of her hands over them. Little wonder she was developing a headache. This was almost too much to think about. She'd tried desperately to keep control of things, but all the secrets and lies were becoming an almost intolerable burden and she could feel herself losing her grip on it all. Flora wasn't supposed to be cross with her, and Damien hadn't been in bed when she'd woken up. In fact she'd seen neither him nor Alex all morning and that couldn't be good. Alex disappeared regularly, but Damien hardly ever left her side. She tried to imagine what he might be doing. He'd been so tolerant of her last night, even though it had been very obvious he knew she was hiding something. But she'd felt the subtle pulling away that her lack of trust in him had caused. And she knew that if she didn't start trusting him fully, and soon, then she really would be just using him. **** Damien hasn't realised quite how hard it was going to be. He rubbed at his sore shoulder and prepared to reload the rifle, squinting at the target to see if he'd hit it this time. To his relief, Alex nodded that he had. He positioned himself at a safe distance while Damien went through the procedure once again and fired off another shot.

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Another hit. Damien lowered the weapon, a broad grin on his face. The thrill of firing his first shot had been totally unexpected. That coupled with the knowledge that he was at least doing something positive to help Lissa was a good feeling. He tried to stop his mind making the logical leap to exactly why he was learning to shoot. That decision would be made for him when the time came. He only hoped he'd be up to it. And Alex had astounded him. He could hit the target with his eyes closed. “What's this all for, then? Alex asked casually. You coming 'unting with me?” “You know what it's for, Alex. I Just want to help, that's all.” “You got gun oil on yer face. Never thought I'd see that. An' 'es mine, Damien.” Damien rested the gun over the crook of one arm and wiped a hand over his face, staring in fascination at the streaks of oil on his hand. “Who is?” “You know who I'm talking about. Got a score to settle.” “You're talking about Evan?” “Yeah, 'im. 'Ere, try again.” Alex handed him another round of ammunition, and stood back, arms folded. Damien started to load the gun, then stopped and turned around. “You can't just go and shoot him, you know.”

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“I'll do what I 'ave to do. Bastard ain’t touching none of us no more. I've 'ad it with 'im.” Alex spoke calmly and with terrible conviction, leaving Damien in no doubt that he'd do it. Damien looked at the gun he'd been firing off happily for the last half an hour and wondered if he could really bring himself to shoot someone. Take a life? He'd thought Lissa being in danger would be sufficient motivation, but what about afterwards? He'd seen what killing Crosbie had done to her. What a burden of guilt that had laid on her slim shoulders. How on Earth would he cope if he had to kill someone? And how the hell would Alex go on if he killed his own father? He might hate Evan, but killing his own flesh and blood? It mustn’t come to that. Damien realised, with some trepidation, that it was up to him to sort all this. To stop being so weak and start living up to the title of lord at last. A confrontation with Evan was becoming the only option. And, if Damien were honest with himself, it had been a long time coming. As he fired off another shot, thinking that he maybe ought to go and find Lissa, he also knew now that he was fully capable of making his own decisions, something he'd hardly ever done before. He'd let Flora and Evan run his life, and, much as he loved Lissa, he knew that he was letting her do it too. He denied her nothing. He let her chose his clothes and cut his hair and he did it out of love and gratitude that she'd stayed with him. But would making himself her lapdog ultimately earn him respect? He suspected not.

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With no idea whether he was up to the task, he knew that he needed to talk to both of them, Lissa and Evan. It wasn’t a task he relished. “So what's going on, then?” he asked Alex. “Has she told you anything?” Before Alex could speak, Lissa appeared, standing in the entrance of the barn, a look of confusion on her face as she stared first at him then at the gun. Damien smiled at her, suddenly proud of what he was doing and, he realised, asking for her approval as he always did. She didn't smile back at him. In fact the expression on her face turned to one of horror, and before he could say anything she'd whirled around and run away. He stayed rooted to the spot for a few moments before thrusting the gun at Alex and taking off after her. He ran out into the sunshine without a second thought, spotted Lissa disappearing through the gate in the walled garden, and ran after her. She was just on the edge of the small wood when he caught up with her. “Lissa, stop!” She came to a halt when she heard his voice, and turned, a look of shock on her face. “Damien, what are you doing? The sun…” “I'll be all right for a few minutes. Let's get under the trees.” He took her arm and pulled her into the shade with him. “Why did you run away?” She was still looking at him, wide-eyed and horrified, and he wasn't sure if it was because of what she'd seen in the barn, or because he was outside with her. 370

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“You've got to start talking to me, love. What is going on?” She was staring at the streaks of gun oil on his hands. She traced her finger lightly over the marks and then looked up at him again. “What were you doing, Damien?” “Learning to shoot. I told you I was going to.” “But why? Why should you want to?” “Because it makes me feel manly.” It was only half-meant as a joke. Lissa didn't laugh. “I don't want you to.” She grabbed his other arm and pulled herself up so her face was near to his. “Please don't, Damien. I don't want you to get hurt. Say you won't.” Her eyes looked very green this close, and they spoke to him, pleaded with him to do as she said. She nodded slightly, her lips parted, and moved closer, pulling him down to her. “Do it for me?” she said, her voice husky with emotion. Damien felt himself relenting, his lips parting, a familiar tingling in his gut as he moved towards the kiss she was offering. No, not offering, he thought vaguely, rather, insisting upon. He badly wanted to kiss her. No. Yet again she was distracting him from what they were supposed to be 371

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doing. It was with great difficulty that he pulled back, keeping her at arm’s length so he wouldn't be tempted. If they didn't have this discussion now, they never would, and he'd lose her before he discovered what was going on. The look of shock was still on her face, and she tried to move towards him once more, her light perfume washing over him as she did so. Damien held her fast with as gentle a grip as he could, still keeping her away from him. Backing down now wasn’t an option, no matter how unhappy she looked. This was a defining moment in their relationship. It would either survive and be stronger, or break and never be the same again. It was a risk. One he knew he had to take. He scanned her face, hoping he was doing the right thing. Thinking how perfect her features were. He'd wanted to paint her portrait and had never got round to it. All of a sudden he wanted to do it at that very moment. He needed a picture, an image of her; he wouldn't let himself think why having one had become so urgent. He told himself it had nothing to do with the fact that one day she might not be here, and it would be all he had of her. “Let's go inside, love. I'll start your portrait, and you can talk to me. How does that sound?” Lissa moved her head. He couldn't tell whether she was agreeing or disagreeing with him. His hands were shaking so he let her go and stepped back, raking his fingers through his hair. “Did you see what I did? I ran across the garden with no thought for the sun at all.” A mild wave of nausea washed over him as he spoke and he leaned one arm 372

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against a tree, waving her away when she hovered anxiously over him. “It's all right, it will pass. Give me a minute.” He could see her on the edge of his vision while he breathed hard, and told himself sternly that he was not going to be sick in front of her. “I'm not sure if this is because of the sun, or the excitement of just being out here with you.” “I saw you. You're putting yourself in danger because of me, Damien. What is the point of learning to shoot, unless you are going to shoot something? Can't you see that being out here is making you ill? Let me help you inside.” When she offered him her arm he brushed it away. Straightening himself a little unsteadily, he stepped away from her. “So, you would prefer that I remained a weak-willed fool, who writes bad poetry and embarrasses himself with his overblown declarations of love? I'm trying to do something real for a change. Can you not see that?” “I just don't want to see you hurt. Damien…” Her voice was small as she tried to move towards him again. He raised his palms to fend her off. “No, I don't need your help. I'm going to talk to Evan today and I'm going to damned well find out what's going on. I'm not standing by any more and being treated with contempt. I know I've probably earned it in the past, but the time has come for me to change. I'm going to, Lissa.” “Whether I like it or not?” “I'm doing this for you as much as for me.” 373

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“Even if I don't want you to?” He turned his face away so he couldn't see hers, knowing that if he did he'd weaken. “Yes, love, even if you don't want me to. I won't speak to him until this evening. Please come and talk to me before then.” With those words he left her and resolutely walked back into the sunshine towards the safety of the house. **** Alicia watched Damien disappear through the gate. She should follow and tell him everything, and do it now. She shuddered at the thought. It would send him straight to Evan, and she already knew the consequences of that. She gave Damien a few moments to get back into the house, then followed him. But she didn't go to his room. Instead she went to the King's Room. The bag of jewels was under the mattress, and when she'd retrieved it she went back to the door, carefully looked around to make sure nobody had seen her, and quickly made for the stairs again. Raised voices told her that something was happening in the kitchen, and for a moment she thought Damien had gone straight to Evan and not waited as he'd promised. When she entered she was relieved to see that it was Flora, not Damien, who Evan was arguing with. They both fell silent when they noticed her. Flora stiffened and turned abruptly back to her cooking. Evan simply stared at her, his face impassive.

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“I need to speak with you.” Alicia addressed him, and motioned towards the door, letting him see she was carrying a small velvet bag. His eyes narrowed for a moment and he nodded briefly. Alicia walked past him to the door, seeing Flora turn slightly as she did so, and let herself out, her hand trembling as she reached the handle. She ran down the steps and towards the small barn, hoping desperately that Alex wasn't nearby. In the dim interior she sat down on a straw bale and waited. A few moments later she saw Evan making his way towards her. She stood on trembling legs and prepared to face him. “What've you got?” He spoke first, motioning towards the bag, a look of mild interest on his face. “Valuable, is it?” “Yes, I believe these are of considerable value.” She opened the bag and pulled out the emerald necklace, hoping he couldn't see how much she was shaking. “This belonged to Damien's mother. Here, take it.” Evan’s eyes lit up and widened slightly as he took the necklace from her. “You're a sly one, aren't you?” “What do you mean?” Alicia steeled herself, tilting her head so she could keep eye contact with him. “You've got that poor, pathetic creature wrapped round your little finger, haven't you? The love I feel for her just keeps on and on growing so that I don't now how I will hold it all.” 375

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Alicia took a step back. The last line was spoken in a voice she assumed was meant to mimic Damien's, and she knew it was from his journal, because he'd read it to her himself. At the time it had seemed tender and a true expression of his love for her. Coming from Evan's lips it just sounded crass and ridiculous. “Did you ever read such a load of rubbish?” Evan pocketed the necklace and looked hopefully towards the bag. “What else do you have?” Alicia slipped the hand holding the bag behind her back, her breath hitching in her throat. “You've…you've been reading his journal… You have no right.” “Says who? All this should have been mine, you know.” “Flora told me.” Alicia kept her hand resolutely behind her back, Evan’s mocking tone giving her courage. The thought of him sneering at Damien in such a way was almost unbearable. It angered her, and that was just what she needed to see this through. “You can't blame Damien for it.” He shrugged his shoulders. “It's never mattered. Damien has always been weak enough to control. As was his father, my dear half-brother.” Even though Alicia knew who Evan was, she’d somehow failed to make that connection. If Evan was an uncle of sorts to Damien, that made Alex Damien’s cousin. The next question came out before she had a chance to stop herself.

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“What happened to him? Lord Lucius. The legend, it couldn't be true…?” At that Evan laughed long and loud. A sound Alicia had never heard from him. It startled her so much that she nearly bolted there and then. The only thing keeping her in place was the fascination of knowing, at last, the real story behind the Lucius legend. She had realised by now that Damien's father wasn't a vampire or any such thing. The Devil - he hadn't really come for him, had he? “Let's just say that Damien's mother met with an unfortunate accident one day. All I had to do was let the relevant authorities know about it, at a time that suited me. Mallory made it to a ship bound for America, but damn me if the thing didn't go and sink in mid-Atlantic. You see, justice always catches up with you in the end. You have to pay at some time.” “So will you, Evan.” “Undoubtedly, my dear, but not yet. Oh, the Devil can have me eventually, but not today. Come, I have satisfied your curiosity. Now you satisfy mine. What else do you have in there?” Alicia pulled out a ring and handed it over. Evan snatched at it, somewhat impatiently this time, and she knew that she was pushing his control to the limit. He slipped it into his pocket and held out his hand, palm up. “I'm growing impatient. Just give me the bag.” His voice had a dangerous edge. “I've told him.” “You've done what?” 377

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“I've told Damien about you. He's going to confront you tonight.” For a moment she thought Evan might hit her. His hands balled into fists and he closed his eyes briefly. She looked around for somewhere to run, but in the time it took her to realise that she'd never get past him he'd opened his eyes again and regained control. He pressed his fingers to his temples then dropped them abruptly. “Why did you do that?” “Because I am tired of all this deception. And because I want you to leave.” She dropped the bag on the straw bale and quickly backed away. “Take these and anything of value from the house. You have plenty of time. Damien has promised me that he won't do anything about this until tonight.” “You stupid…” “I can keep you supplied with money, anything you require. Just go. If you don't, I will make sure you have cause to regret it. Damien has a gun...” “And he couldn't hit the broad side of a barn. Come, you're not scaring me yet.” “…And so has Alex. He won't miss.” Evan shook his head slowly. “You…stupid…bitch. You're going to get them both killed.” “Perhaps, but both of them would gladly die for me, as I would for them. So you see, you're not scaring any of us any more. 378

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“Perhaps not yet, Alicia.” Evan sauntered forward and calmly picked up the bag, weighed it in his hand, and slipped it into his pocket along with the other jewels. As he stared at her she was struck for the first time by his resemblance to the Lucius line of the family. And by how much Alex looked like him. In fact the two of them, with their dark looks, had more of the Lucius in them than Damien did. If Evan wanted sympathy for being a bastard, he wasn't getting any from her. She kept very still and waited for him to make his next move. “I could snap your neck.” He moved towards her so quickly that she didn't have time to dodge him. Pulling up abruptly, he laughed at her startled reaction. “Am I scaring you yet?” “I don't care if you kill me. You're mad.” “Oh no. I'm not mad. Greedy, resentful, bitter? Yes. But not mad. Damien's mother was, though. Couldn't tell me from her darling husband most of the time. I might even be Damien's father. We never did know which one of us sired him.” “Stop it! I don't want to hear this.” Alicia stared at Evan wide-eyed, “I don't understand. Why did you not tell him who you were? Damien would have made sure you were looked after.” “If he knew the truth?” Evan shook his head. “I knew you were going to be trouble. Should have done something about it then. But no matter, I have another plan that will work just as well to my advantage. You will not win this one, Alicia.” “Neither will you, Evan.” 379

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“Then we'll all go down together. Goodbye, Alicia, you'll be hearing from me. And by the way, Crosbie sends his regards.” **** “Where do you want me, Damien?” Damien stopped for a moment and narrowed his eyes. “Back against the headboard. Lean on the pillows - like this.” Alicia slid backwards and propped herself up on one elbow. “Is this right?” “Let's get your hair out of the way, shall we?” As Damien’s hand lifted strands of hair away from her face, their eyes met and held for a brief moment. She looked away first, not wanting him to see how nervous she was. She had to tell him about her conversation with Evan. How she'd sorted the problem behind Damien’s back without even consulting him. Damien finished arranging her hair, pulled back the quilt, and smoothed out the material of her dress. Then he sat down in the rocking chair, crossed one leg over a knee, and picked up his sketch pad and pencil. “So, Lissa, talk to me.” She'd been half-hoping that this conversation wouldn't have to take place. Damien looked anything but calm. His pencil moved over the paper in quick, jerky strokes. After a few moments he ripped the sheet from the pad, crumpled it in his hand, and threw it down. 380

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“You need to relax, Lissa, or this won't come out right.” He kept his eyes firmly on the sketchpad as he started another drawing, his pencil moving once again with the same erratic strokes. Alicia wriggled back against the pillows and let out the breath she'd been holding. Too tense to breathe normally. It was all she could do to drag the air into her lungs. How could she explain this so that he would understand? Best say it plainly, she decided, for there would be no point in trying to deceive him further. “Evan knows what happened with Crosbie.” “Hmm.” It was Damien’s only response, other than a slight clenching of his fist on the edge of the sketchpad. He lifted his pencil and closed one eye. “I've sorted it, Damien. Sent Evan away.” “I see. He left? Just like that?” “No, not just like that. I gave him your mother's jewels.” “And?” “And what, Damien? Stop drawing and come here. I can't talk to you if you're going to ignore me.” “I'm not ignoring you. Continue with your story.” He sighted with the pencil once more, tilted it this way and that, then resolutely continued with his task. “Let's leave here, Damien – go to Rossendale, like you wanted to before.” 381

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“On what?” “Alex can take me to Plymouth. We'll sell some things from the house.” She sat up as she spoke. Damien motioned her down again. “You'll have to keep still. I can't do this if you don't keep still.” “Damien, are you listening to me?” “Oh, I'm listening, love. What I'm trying to work out is why it should suddenly be all right for you to go to Plymouth. Are you not afraid of being found?” “I'll go in disguise. No-one will recognise me, and when we have enough money we can just leave this place. It's like a prison, can't you see?” “You think you have to remind me of that? What is it that you're still not telling me?” Damien laid the sketchpad flat on his lap and stared at her, his whole body stiff. Although he was trying to be stern, Alicia could see the hurt in his eyes. He still hadn't learned to hide that from her. “Crosbie is still alive. He didn't die, and he's looking for me. I gave Evan the jewels to stop him revealing my whereabouts.” “And how long have you known this?” The pain was no longer just in his eyes. Alicia gripped the bedsheet hard as she realised just how much her deception had hurt him. She saw the wall that was 382

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building between them as he shook his head in confusion. “Does that mean that you are still formally engaged to Crosbie?” She nodded miserably, wanting nothing more than to go to him. To hug him and have him tell her that everything was going to be all right. She swallowed a knot of fear, wondering if this rift that was building between the two of them could ever be healed. “I suppose so. Perhaps I will be able to talk to Crosbie? Ask him to release me…” “Do you think he would agree?” “No.” She'd barely spoken when the sketchbook slammed into the wall, and Damien was out of the chair and standing by the bed. For a moment she thought he might attack her. He stopped short, his jaw clenched, his hands shaking. “What the hell is going on? Did you know this when you married me?” She scooted back against the pillows, shaking her head. Earning another snort of laughter from Damien. “Do you think I would ever hurt you? After all we've been through? Have you not heard a word I've said?” “Of course I have, Damien. Stop this. You're frightening me.” 383

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“Good, then we're even. Because you scare me to death, Lissa. I've done twenty- one years of growing up since you arrived, and I thought I was a man at last.” He shook his head. “It's all an illusion, isn't it? I speak and people nod politely as if they hear me, but I'm still that invisible boy aren't I? The one no-one sees, or hears or cares about.” “I care about you, Damien.” “Do you?” He did touch her then. With one knee on the bed he leaned over and pinned her down, holding her by the arms. “I know you were just using me to start with. You still are, aren't you?” “No, of course not. Let me go, Damien. I don't like this.” Damien raised his hands, palms forward. “Anything you say. Don’t we always do everything you say?” Stomping over to his desk he picked up his journal. “I opened my heart and soul to you, Lissa. It's all here. Every single, ridiculous word. All the overblown sentiments. The pretentious pap. And this is where it belongs.” The book landed in the grate, amongst the ashes which billowed in a small cloud around it. For a moment they both just stared at the book. Then she was off the bed, trying to retrieve it even as Damien was trying to set fire to it with a lit candle. “Stop it.” He pushed her away, the candle flame leaving a smoky trail as he swung it back towards the book. “I just want it gone. I just want this whole embarrassing drivel gone.” “This is childish. Damien, don't.” 384

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She tried again. He held her off. “Well, that's just me, isn't it? I'm a selfish, spoilt brat. How do you expect me to behave?” “I don't understand this, Damien.” She stood and backed away from him as he determinedly turned back to the task of burning his journal. “Neither do I, Alicia. I thought I was doing the right thing. Oh, I can see I've got a lot to learn. Damn, why won't this catch?” She couldn't even cry as she watched him. She dared not, in case he interpreted it as a plea for sympathy. “Why did you call me Alicia?” “Alicia, Lissa? What does it matter?” Damien didn't turn around. “I've never really known who you are, have I?” She could tell that some of the anger was dissipating. He wasn't shouting any more, and his voice was very quiet, the hysterical edge gone. “What can I do to put this right?” she asked, standing at the door. He hadn't attempted to stop her leaving. “Tell me what to do.” “I don't know, Alicia.” He turned to her and looked at her sadly. “I need some time to think, because I just don't know.

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Chapter 25 Alicia was fast learning that prisons didn't always consist of walls and bars. Loneliness and despair did just as good a job. They froze you in place and dragged you down, so you couldn't move. Damien hadn't followed her after their harsh words. She'd lain on the bed in the King's Room and waited for him, even though she knew deep down that he wouldn't appear. Something had broken between them last night. Something that couldn’t easily be mended, and now she had no idea where her future lay. When she heard the knock on the door she stayed in place, knowing it wasn't him. The sound of piano music floating up from the ground floor told her that. She had neither the energy nor the will to get up and find out who it was. To move, one needed to be motivated and even if it had been Crosbie himself come to drag her away she wouldn't have bothered running. What would be the point? She'd tried. She really had tried to take control of her life and make things happen the way she wanted them to, rather than as others had told her they should be. She'd fooled herself into thinking she could do this, and had travelled a world of experiences and new sensations in just a few weeks. But now, after all the excitement and effort, she was back at the beginning again. It was as if she'd used up every scrap of energy she possessed to get this far, only to find she hadn't gone anywhere but round in a big circle. 386

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The thought crossed her mind that she should get up, find the dress she'd arrived in, and leave. Go to Plymouth as she'd originally planned. She was no longer the innocent girl who'd first contemplated running away. She was a woman now and, even though she'd been locked away in this place, she'd learned to be independent, to make her own decisions. After dealing with Evan, she was harder, and knew what she was capable of. Being alone in a strange town held no fears for her now. Could she leave without at least trying to talk to Damien? Another knock on the door. She had just enough energy to roll her head sideways and wait for whoever it was to come in. Or go away. She supposed they'd do one or the other eventually. It was probably Flora with breakfast, or just come to help her dress. She was surprised, then, to hear Alex's voice calling her. Sitting up, she pushed back her hair and called him in. He stepped hesitantly into the room and stood by the door, moving nearer as she beckoned him over. His eyes were dark-rimmed. His clothes crumpled. “Come to see if you're all right. Damien just near bit me 'ead off when I tried to talk to 'im.” “How is he?” she said, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed and pulling down her tangled skirts. “He wasn't pleased with me.” “Guessed that much.” “What shall I do, Alex? I just don't know what to do” Alex moved closer, leaned his hands on the bed, and let out a long breath. 387

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“'Es in as foul a mood as I've ever seen 'im. Best leave 'im alone a bit. Once stayed in 'is room and sulked for four days.” Alex shook his head at the memory, then looked at her again, concern on his face. “Where's Evan gone? 'Aven't seen 'im this morning.” “I paid him to leave. Gave him Damien's mother's jewels. Damien has a right to be angry with me, Alex.” He contemplated her words for a moment. “Maybe. No, don't cry. Didn't mean to upset you. Seems we need to stick together on this. You and Damien, are you still…?” “Together. I don't know that either... no, I'm not going to cry, I'm beyond that.” She wriggled from the bed, taking Alex's offered hand. “He was so angry with me. No, not angry, disappointed. I think I could have coped with the anger, but knowing I’ve let him down so badly, I just don't know what to do...” She wandered over to the dressing table. Picking up the hairbrush, she looked in the mirror. “I look a fright,” she said pulling a face at the sight of her puffy eyes and tear-streaked cheeks. Alex laughed softly and followed her. “You do that. Don't like seeing you like this, Lissa. Not you at all. Got no fight left.” “But it is me, Alex. Can't you see? I've tried to be different, but I never will be. None of us will.” He crouched down in front of her, and when she turned her face away from him he reached out and turned it back, touching her lightly with calloused fingers that felt so unlike Damien’s smooth and unmarked ones. He 388

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laughed quietly again and shook his head as if at some private joke. “Listen to me. I want to say something, and I'm not big with the speeches and stuff, so I don't know if it's going to come out right.” He paused to make sure she was listening, and he looked so serious at that moment that she stopped thinking about Damien and twisted herself around to face him, her hands in her lap, focusing all her attention on his face. It seemed important to give him this. And not just because he was desperately trying to help her. Nobody ever listened to Alex, and life here had been just as bad for him as it was for Damien. At least Damien had Flora to love him. Alex had no-one, since Flora seemed to care so little for him. She noticed him blushing a little at her attention. He closed his eyes briefly, as she'd seen Damien do when he was trying to think of the right thing to say. Her heart went out to him with the realisation that she loved him, too, in a way. He was a solid, reassuring presence who stood by her patiently and stoically, like some knight of old, sword always at the ready to defend his lady. He made her feel safe. Who wouldn't love that? His hand waving in front of her face shook her out of her daydream, and she frantically refocused on the task in hand. Now was not the time to start fantasising about Alex, no matter how appealing she thought him. Nodding to him to continue, she resettled herself, wriggling in her seat and earning herself another half-smile from him.

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“Thought you were going to sleep. People do that when I talk.” He raised his hand when she tried to protest at that –, telling her not to worry, he was used to it. A small wink told her he was still joking. Then he became serious again. “Everyone's changed since you've been here. And it's your doing, Lissa. Nothing's going to be the same again. Did you know that Damien tried to kill 'imself?” She nodded miserably. “I read it in his journal, and he's told me, since.” “Well, that just about sums up life 'ere. We were all just slowly dying, until you came.” “And now I'm going to get you all killed, so nothing has changed.” “Who says that?” “Evan. He'll be back, Alex.” “And we'll be ready. You can't just lie 'ere and wait for 'im.” “What else do I do? I should just leave.” “And what about Damien?” “I don't think he wants me, Alex.” She turned back to the mirror and without much enthusiasm, began brushing out her hair. “He didn't follow me after last night.”

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“Told you, 'e’ll 'ave 'is sulk, then 'e'll come round. “’E knows 'ow important this is. You just got to give 'im time, that's all.” She sighed long and hard, threw down the brush, and closed her eyes. Damien would continue to help her. She had no doubt of that, but Alex was right when he said things would never be the same. Whatever she'd had with Damien, if she ever managed to salvage anything from it, it wouldn't be what she’d had before. When she opened her eyes Alex was standing, his arms folded. “Remember that shooting lesson? I'm thinking you might be needing it about now. She stood too, and gave him a grateful smile. “Yes, I do too, Alex,” she said, extending her hand to him. “Come on. Let's do it and waste no more time.” **** Damien played the piano for three hours, banging out the notes until his fingers ached. He slammed down the lid, leaned on his elbows and pressed his hands against his eyes. He sat for a long time, trying to sort all the confusing images in his mind. Lissa would be waiting for him, but, if he went to her, what did he tell her? That he'd do everything she wanted? It would undoubtedly make her happy, but where would it leave him? If he'd believed she was right, he wouldn't have minded so much, but he didn't. He knew Evan. Knew he wouldn't give up so easily, and they needed to sort this out now or it would only come back to haunt them. He desperately wanted 391

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to do it for Lissa, with her. But she seemed just as desperate to shut him out and do it without him. She had no idea what he'd been through. How controlled he'd been and what doing this meant to him. He missed her, but knew now that, before he could love her properly, he had to find himself. Find out who he truly was. He'd offered himself to her, but he wasn't sure what he'd actually given her. Rational wasn't ever a word he would have applied to love; he'd always imagined it would involve a kind of madness. And up till now, it had, for him at least. He thought back to the night they'd gone fishing and how he'd decided to help her even if there was nothing in it for him. He thought of all the times he'd cautioned himself not to pin all his hopes on Lissa being his saviour. If he could well and truly get himself to that place, then he could help her with a clear head. That's what she needed right now. If they survived this, then he'd romance her. Then would be the time for poetry, and pretty speeches. Pulling back would be painful, since he was besotted with her. But that was no good. She'd fallen in love with her rescuer and he with the first young woman he'd ever met. Love had to be based on more than need and infatuation. It made him laugh. A romantic with a philosopher's mind, no experience of the world, and running on instinct alone. It would be a miracle if he survived intact. He did know one thing, though. The time for hiding in the dark was over. **** 392

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“I'm thinking I'll go be a soldier. Join the army.” Alicia lowered the gun and pushed back her hair, leaving a dirty smear across her face. “Alex, you can't leave us.” He shrugged his shoulders and handed her another round. “Why not? Got no reason to stay after this. Never been wanted 'ere, 'ave I?” He pointed to the gun, which she started methodically reloading as he'd taught her. “I'm good at this. Only thing I am good at. I'll go be a sharpshooter.” “But you're part of this family. You do know who Evan is, don't you?” He looked at her blankly, lifting the barrel of the gun to align it for her. “’E's my father.” “He's also half-brother to Damien's father. Did you not know that?” Her news didn't seem to affect Alex as much as she thought it might. He stopped for a moment and thought about it, then he stepped back out of her line of fire. “Always 'ad me suspicions.” “But that makes you one of them too. It means you do belong here.” “I 'ate this place, Lissa. Once I leave, I'm never coming back. Fire your shot.” She levelled the gun, but before she could fire it a movement caught her eye. Her finger still on the trigger, she turned to find Evan standing a few yards away, in the shadows, watching her. For a moment she though 393

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she was imagining him. The whole scene had a dreamlike quality about it, and, perhaps because Alex was with her this time, she was strangely unafraid. Or perhaps it was the gun she was holding? Evan looked a little blurred as she closed one eye and held him in her sights, and for a moment she really thought she could do it. One shot is all it would take; she couldn't miss at this range. Evan moved towards her and she took a step back, bumping into Alex who was behind her now. He caught her when she stumbled, and for a moment they all stood very still. Her hands start to shake and her finger tightened on the trigger. There'd be blood, lots of blood, just as there had been with Crosbie. And this time there'd be no mistaking it. She'd be damned, with no reprieve. This wouldn't be an accident; it would be a deliberate act of murder. It didn't matter that no-one but Flora would be sorry to see him go. Alex had grabbed the gun before her thoughts could go any further. Where her hands had shaken, his were rock solid. And where she'd wavered, she could see nothing but determination in his eyes. Moving himself in front of her, he calmly raised the weapon. “What do you want?” “Got something for young Alicia Stanton there.” Alex flicked her a puzzled glance as it dawned on him who Alicia Stanton was, then Evan's hand moved towards his pocket, causing Alex to jerk back round 394

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towards his father. Alicia's heart nearly stopped at the suddenness of his movement. Her hands were halfway to her ears before she realised he hadn't fired, and Evan was holding a letter, not a pistol as they'd obviously both feared. “Go away, Alex.” Evan's voice was icy cold as he addressed his son, treating him with his usual disdain. “My business is with Alicia.” “I'm going nowhere. What's that?” Evan smiled and held up the letter. “It's from you fiancée, Alicia. He really does miss you, you know.” Another confused look from Alex. She moved in closer to him, grabbing at a handful of his shirt for support. He was shaking now, but not from fear. “Do you want it, Lissa?” She didn't know. What could Crosbie have to say that could possibly persuade her to return to him? She'd never know unless she read it, so she managed a shaky yes. Alex nodded to his father to throw the letter down. She ran out from behind him and picked it up, her hands shaking so much now that she nearly dropped it. Her full name was carefully written on the front so there was no doubt that it was for her. She stared at the writing for a few moments as if the name could miraculously change to someone else's. As if this nightmare wasn't hers after all and this was all some terrible mistake. Alex nodded encouragement and pushed her back behind him, the gun still trained on his father, who didn't seem the slightest bit worried that he quite possibly stood a hair's breadth away from death. 395

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“He wants an answer.” Evan nodded at the letter. “Without delay. Read it.” “Don't take any notice, Lissa. You don't 'ave to.” Alex looked from her to his father. “And you, just go. I don't ever want to see you again.” “Shut up, Alex. Read it, Alicia. Crosbie is most anxious to hear from you.” Alex stiffened again at his father's words. His finger twitched on the trigger. “Leave 'er alone. Why don’t you just go?” “No, it's all right, Alex,”Alicia said. “I'll read it. But I'm not going back to him.” That she addressed to Evan. “Nothing he could say would make me go back.” She broke the seal, almost ripping the page when she pulled it out of the envelope, painfully aware of the two men watching her. Evan with a complacent half-smile, Alex torn between watching his father and anxiety for her. Quickly her eyes scanned the script, and what she read caused the blood to drain from her face. “Crosbie is going to marry my sister Dana.” The letter fell from her hand and the full realisation of Crosbie's power struck her. She was never going to get away from him. My dearest Alicia, I will come straight to the point, namely, your sister. I intend to ask your father for her hand, but of course, it 396

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is in your power to prevent that happening. Come back to me, and everything will be as before. I will not be made a fool of, Alicia. Come back to me on your hands and knees, and beg my forgiveness - you will find that I can be most generous. Of course, you know what else I can be, and Dana is so young. Do not keep me waiting. Crosbie. The letter fluttered to the floor, along with all the hopes and dreams. The future Alicia had planned with Damien. Any chance of happiness. This was a nightmare she wasn't going to wake up from. It was going to be her life. She was aware of Alex's arm coming out to steady her as her knees started to give way, and also that in doing so he'd lowered the gun. In one swift motion Evan had both hands on the barrel which he jerked towards himself before swinging it sideways. There was a sickening crack as the stock made contact with the side of Alex's head. Alex staggered, almost knocking her over. He twisted and grabbed hold of the gun once more, jamming the barrel into his father's chest. Just as it had with Crosbie, time became liquid – speeding up then, just as suddenly, slowing down. Alicia was aware of every detail of the scene unfolding before her. The bright splash of crimson in Alex's hair. The look of anguish on his face as he realised what he was about to do. Evan's harsh breathing, his startled eyes gazing at 397

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his son as if seeing him for the first time. The disbelief of knowing that his time had come. Her own hands, shaking uncontrollably as she held them over her ears and screamed at Alex not to fire. The deafening sound as the gun went off, mixed with more screams. The smell of gunpowder. And the blood. She thought there'd been blood with Crosbie, but it was nothing compared to the thick red spray that exploded from Evan's chest. It was a sight she thought she'd never see, and yet twice now, in so short a time, she was to watch a man die. Because of her. Alex's arm circled her once more and they both twisted instinctively away, blood splashing over them, soaking their clothes and hair, sickly sweet and warm. She felt it seeping into the thin material of her dress, watched it spreading across Alex's white shirt. At that moment the world seemed full of blood and nothing else. She could hear Alex's voice repeating “Don't look” over and over, but she couldn't help it. Twisting her head, she saw Evan stagger backwards, clawing frantically at his wound, before he fell and hit the floor with a thud. More blood poured from the gaping hole in his chest, collecting in a pool beside him. Alex was turned her away again, pulling her against him, smearing her face with the blood from his shirt. His whole body trembling as he held on to her.

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The gun clattered to the floor. Alex loosened his grip and slumped back onto his heels, his eyes bright with tears, his face ashen. “Lissa, what 'ave I done?” he said covering his face with his hands. “What in God’s name ‘ave I done?” **** The sound of gunfire in the grounds wasn't unusual, and it barely gave Damien cause to look up from the book he was attempting to read. But the words kept going out of focus, and when he should have been reading philosophy all he could see was Lissa’s face and the look she'd given him last night when he'd sent her away. In his mind was her voice, asking what she could do to put things right. And he still didn't know. Perhaps his head was too full of romantic nonsense. He wanted nothing more than to get down on his hands and knees and beg her forgiveness. Tell her he'd do anything she wanted if only she'd carry on loving him. Another shot registered as he wondered whether this was what growing up was really about. Making difficult decisions, doing the right thing. Even if it wasn't the thing that made him happy? The scream took him completely by surprise, so much so that it took him a moment to work out what he was hearing. My God, Lissa's been shot, was his first thought. He dropped his book and raced from the room, remembering that she was in the barn with Alex.

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What if she'd shot Alex? Guns misfired; Alex had once been laid up for weeks after a gun had exploded on him. Why hadn't he stopped her? He could have stopped her. Flora met him at the bottom of the grand staircase, her face white with shock. “Did you hear it, Damien?” And even as she spoke another scream sent them both running for the back door. Damien left Flora behind and ran out into the sunlight for the second time in as many days, pausing momentarily to get his bearings. The big barn, that's where Alex had the target set up. Turning up the collar of his shirt, he shaded his face with his hands and didn't stop running until he was standing in the entrance, frozen with shock at the sight of both Alex and Lissa covered with blood. He was so fixated on them and the grisly implications that he didn't even see Evan at first. All he saw was Lissa and Alex covered in so much blood they were surely going to die. And when he saw Evan he still didn't know what he was seeing. For the first time, he knew how Lissa had felt on the night she thought she’d killed Crosbie. Dropping to his knees in front of Lissa and Alex, he looked from one to the other, panic gripping him as he asked his question. “Is one of you hurt?” Lissa was shaking her head, and relief flooded through him so sharply he felt dizzy. So much blood. He'd never 400

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seen anything like this. This was another test, another step in his journey to finding out exactly who he was. He swallowed the feeling down. Someone had to take charge, and the two in front of him certainly didn't look capable of that right now. “What happened? Lissa? Alex?” Lissa opened her mouth to speak. Alex got in first. “’E deserved it. Tell 'im, Lissa.” That was when he noticed Alex's tearstained face and realised exactly what had happened. Another small feeling of relief that it wasn't Lissa who'd done this, but Alex's distraught expression was almost unbearable to witness. Then Flora arrived, so out of breath that when she saw Evan's body she couldn't even scream. Damien didn't know which way to go. Lissa was still holding Alex, her fingers smoothing back his blood-slicked hair insistently as they stared at each other, sharing something he wasn't a part of. Alex's knuckles were white where his fingers curled around handfuls of her dress, squeezing out more blood from the material as he held onto her. Damien felt his stomach lurch once more, and turned his attention to Flora, who was kneeling by Evan's body now, her mouth open and her eyes impossibly wide. A man shot at close range was a shocking sight. He wondered how something so small could make such a big hole and then he noticed that Evan was still breathing. Shallow gasping breaths as if, by sheer force of will, he was refusing to die.

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How could a man survive such an injury? Flora had Evan by the head now. Cradling it in her lap, she stroked his cheek as he rattled out his dying breath. And as he did so, a deathly silence settled over the scene, each of them staring at the body, coming to terms with it in their own way. Flora was still holding Evan's head, her chest heaving from the struggle to breathe. Damien could see she was on the edge of hysterics, so he quietly moved behind her and took hold of her shoulders. She refused to move when he tried pulling her away, and hung on to Evan's body grimly, as if by doing so she could bring him back to life. Alex stared bleakly at his mother, who was now dissolving into noisy sobs. Rising abruptly, he picked up the gun. Lissa grabbed at his sleeve, but he was away and out of the barn before she could stop him. Damien was aware of her picking something up from the floor as she pushed herself to her feet, her eyes fixed on the body before her. “Go after him. He's taken the gun.” Damien motioned towards the door. Lissa nodded, dumbly and, with one last glance at Evan, she too ran out of the barn. Damien heard her calling Alex's name and turned his attention to Flora. “Come away, there's nothing you can do,” he said, turning her face to his. “He's dead, Flora. Do you hear me? Come away.” “I can't leave him, I can't leave him. Damien, what's Alex done?” 402

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“I don't know what happened. Come on.” He managed to pull her away at last. As he hauled her to her feet, he noticed a scrap of paper lying on the barn floor. An envelope, with Lissa’s name on it. Something Evan had given her? Something worth dying for? He stuffed it in his pocket, trying not to think of it now. He needed to get Flora back into the house, and perhaps get some of the laudanum into her before she completely lost control. Sorry as he was for Evan, Damien’s only thought was that they were free at last. All they had to worry about now was getting as far away from Crosbie as possible. They would go to Rossendale, and, if Crosbie followed them there, he'd take Lissa to the Continent, or America. Flora would tell them where Evan kept his money. Settling her in the rocking chair, he knelt beside her until she calmed down a little. When he was sure she wasn't going to expire from it all, he went up to her room to fetch the sleeping draught that had been his friend for so long. Had Lissa found Alex? Flora was still weeping into her handkerchief when he returned to the kitchen. When she tried to protest against the laudanum, Damien persuaded her gently that sleep was what she needed right now. He would sort it all he assured her, praying that he’d be up to this latest challenge life had thrown at him. Everything was changing so fast. “Cover him up for me, will you, Damien? And you will bury him when it gets dark?” She sounded so pathetic that he gave her another hug. It had to be hard for her, torn between Evan and Alex as she must be right now. 403

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When Alex had looked to her for understanding, she hadn't given it. “I will. Come on, let's get you to your room.” He helped her up and walked her to the stairs, repeating over and over that he would deal with Evan's body. He didn’t relish that task. He prayed fervently that Lissa had found Alex and stopped him doing something stupid with the gun. **** He'd done it for her. She'd never love him, but he'd sold his soul for her anyway. And reserved a place in Hell by doing so. The Devil must have a special spot for children who killed their parents. That much he was sure of. Alex slumped against the wall in the cellar, the newly reloaded gun across his knees, and wondered why he was seeing angels when he was supposed to be in Hell. “Alex?” The angel spoke to him. Perhaps he wasn't going to Hell after all? Had God taken pity on him because he'd seen how evil Evan was? He desperately needed someone to tell him he'd done the right thing. And he wanted his mother as he’d never wanted her before. But the look she'd given him in the barn had squashed any hope of a reconciliation. “Alex?” A hand moved over his face. Someone tugged at the gun. 404

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“Lissa?” It's me, Alex. Give me the gun.” She tried to take it again. He held on tight. What right did he have to live after what he'd done? It was a poor choice. He could go to Hell now, or it would come to him in his every waking moment, and in all of his dreams. Either way, there'd be no escape. “All right.” She let go of the gun and he saw her kneeling in front of him, felt her hands take his face and hold it. “Look at me,” she said softly. “I need to know you're listening to me.” Crosbie was going to marry Dana, her sister. The thought filtered through his foggy brain, telling him it wasn't over yet, and that only the problem with Evan had been solved. “’Ave you told Damien about the letter?” Lissa shook her head. “No, I haven't. Please give me the gun, Alex.” He let her have it, watching as she unloaded it and put it carefully aside. “Tell me I did the right thing.” Her hand again, stroking his face his time. He leaned into it, covering it with his own, desperate for comfort. Willing to take anything that was offered right now.

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He'd been so proud of himself, standing by while Damien and Lissa shared a bed, shared closeness, but he'd always known he'd have to leave at some time. He wasn’t so much in love with Lissa as with what she represented. Damien, because of his position, would have always had first claim. These past few weeks had brought home to him how empty his life was. And how much he wanted someone, anyone, to love him too. He would never find that if he stayed here. “You did, Alex. I'm sorry you had to do that for me.” “I did it for me too. 'E's made all our lives a bloody misery. Just couldn't stand it any more.” “It's all right, Alex. Come into the house.” Her hand was in his now, tugging at him gently, her eyes full of concern. He stood and followed her. She was kindness and softness in the midst of this harsh, ugly nightmare that was his life. The only thing that made sense, and at that moment he'd have followed her to the end of the Earth, if she'd asked him. They met Damien on the stairs. Lissa shook her head when Damien asked if she needed help. Damien caught Alex’s eye and patted him awkwardly on the shoulder. “Take this.” Damien passed the sleeping draught to Lissa, who took it and stared at the bottle. “It will help him. Believe me, it will.” Alex felt her hand in his once more, leading him to his room. He sat on the edge of his bed, head in his hands, her arm across his shoulder.

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“Take some of this, please. Damien was right. Sleep is what you need.” “You're covered in blood, Lissa.” “So are you.” “You were before. That night you first came to us. Give it 'ere.” He'd tried it once or twice, more out of curiosity than need and never enough to have any real effect on him. As he un-stoppered the bottle and took a deep swig, he had no idea how much he'd need to knock him out the way he wanted. Lissa made the decision for him, taking the bottle from his hand and placing it on a side table. Then her fingers were working on the buttons of his shirt and slipping it over his shoulders. She pulled off his boots as he sat dumbly watching , wondering how long it would be before the laudanum took effect. Wondering at the way Fate had answered his prayer. “Always prayed for a woman who'd do this to me.” He had to laugh, a little groggily now. Her hands pushed him gently back onto the pillows. He was aware of her moving away and returning. Something cool wiping at his head. “Lie, back and go to sleep. Let Damien sort it. There's nothing else for you to do, Alex.” His vision blurred and he heard himself asking her to stay with him for a while. Felt the bed shift as she wriggled beside him and pulled his head onto her shoulder. 407

In The Dark With You, Book One – Alexandra Marell

“What did you do, Lissa? When you first came 'ere you were covered in blood.” “Crosbie attacked me. I pushed him and I thought I'd killed him. I understand what you're going through, Alex.” “You're going back to 'im because of Dana?” Blissful oblivion was washing over him. No…he had to stop her. He couldn't go to sleep now. “Yes, I am, Alex. I have no choice.” She was stroking him again, helping him on his way while he struggled against the darkness. Her lips touched his cheek in what he knew was a goodbye kiss. “I can't leave Dana to him. I have to save her from Crosbie. Please tell Damien how sorry I am. I'll never forget you both, or what you did for me.” Her last words sounded very far away, and Alex knew she wouldn’t be there when he woke up. With one last attempt he reached out for her, but her fingers slipped through his and she was gone. **** Alicia found Damien, arms wrapped around himself, leaning against the wall outside Alex's room. When he opened his mouth to speak she silenced him with her fingers on his lips, took his hand and pulled him towards his room. “Don't say anything, Damien. Just make love to me, please.” Without question he followed, and helped her remove the bloodstained dress. Their lovemaking was 408

In The Dark With You, Book One – Alexandra Marell

unbearably sweet, with not a word spoken until they were both lying in the blissful aftermath. When tears made silent tracks over her cheeks Damien wiped them away with the pads of his thumbs. “Is it mended?” he asked, his voice in equal parts pleading and hopeful. She couldn't give him the answer he wanted, the answer she so desperately wanted to give. Instead, she kissed him on the shoulder and silently left the bed. Wrapping the sheet around her, she turned away from his disappointed face. Crumbled hopes and shattered dreams. They would be the legacy of this strange interlude in her life. And something else, she thought as she made her way tearfully back to her room. Memories. Some good, some bad. But mostly good. And they would sustain her in what was to come. She must try to hold on to them so they wouldn't fade too quickly. Dana needed her more than Damien did. He'd survive this. Her sister wouldn't. The dress she’d arrived in was in the wardrobe in the King’s Room, neatly laundered. No trace remained of Crosbie’s blood. It was as if time were being reset. Everything going back to how it should have been. And poor Damien. She was condemning him, once more, to a life in the dark. She only hoped he’d find it in his heart to forgive her for that. End of Book One. The story continues with In The Dark With You, Book Two. Walking Towards the Light. 409

In The Dark With You, Book One – Alexandra Marell

Author’s Note. The story of the pearl came from a book of writings by Kahlil Gibran. He lived a little later than Damien did so I'm taking a bit of poetic licence here. He said, “A pearl is a temple built by pain around a grain of sand. What longing built our bodies, and around what grains?”

Preview of Book two “I want you to talk to her Wendy. You've more chance of getting her to open up. Ask her about Damien. “Damien, who's Damien?” “If I'm not mistaken, someone who loves her very much, but my main concern here is Alicia.” Aunt Joan shuffled the papers on her desk and glanced at the top sheet. “Hmm, very interesting. Tell her I've seen him, but do not force the issue. Let her tell you in her own words.” “What are you planning, Aunt? Have you found a way to stop this wedding?” “I may have, my dear.” Aunt Joan walked around her desk and slipped an arm around her niece. “But the success of it depends firmly on Damien. If he truly loves her he will find the strength to succeed - with more than a little help from me, of course. But there are things even I cannot interfere with. My brother is at liberty to marry his daughters to whom he chooses, and I cannot stop him, unless I take drastic action. I would prefer to remain within the law.” 410

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She walked Wendy to the window and they both looked out at Alicia who was sitting in her usual place on the garden bench. “I could do this myself, Wendy, but I think it's important for both of them that Damien does it. It's something you will learn, my dear. Always let a man think that something clever was his idea. “And is he? A hero?” “I have a feeling that young Damien is about to surprise himself. I only hope I'm right, for both their sakes. Now, off you go, and tell Jonathan I need him to deliver some papers to Lord Rossendale. I think he's going to find these very interesting.”

More free reads from Alexandra Marell – available in the Alinar Yahoo!Groups. Waiting For Eternity Saving Susie The Heart Wants Alexandra has the following books for sale at Alinar Publishing – Setting Him Free As Quality Control Manager for Exotic Resorts Inc., Danielle Radcliffe’s life is one long round of sun, sea and sand. Unfortunately, it also involves airplanes – and Danielle hates flying with a passion. When her worst fears are realised, and her plane crashes in a tropical rainforest, there are only two survivors. Danielle and the enigmatic man in black who’d held her hand as the plane went down. A man who’d been sitting handcuffed between two armed guards. Taylor Bradford is a broken man. Tired of running, he’s glad that the end is near. That is until he catches Danielle’s eye on the plane. A moment of instant connection awakens feelings he thought long dead. When the plane goes down, he reaches for her hand. 411

In The Dark With You, Book One – Alexandra Marell The sole survivors of the crash, Taylor and Danielle find themselves forming a deepening bond which boils over into a night of passion. Danielle knows she needs to let him go before help arrives, even though there’s a chance that she might never see him again. But when the time comes, will she be able to? And, more importantly, will Taylor keep his promise to come back and find her one day? Something Worth Fighting For When an innocent man is released from prison he needs to rebuild his life. For Daniel Denham, that's easier said than done. Until he meets artist Callie Lester in her house by the sea. Callie Lester is horrified when her mother, who was Daniel’s lawyer, announces that he’s coming to stay. He's recently been released from prison for a crime he didn't commit and is looking for work. Callie needs a website to advertise her growing business as a portrait artist and Daniel is good at what he does. But he's a man with problems. Does she really want him around when things are so good? Fate seems to have decreed that she be the one to rescue him. Will she be up to the task? The moment Daniel walks into the house by the sea he knows that this is a place where he can begin to get his life back together. A place where he can heal. But things are never that simple. Rumours to some people are truth and facing the outside world and all its judgements is the hardest thing of all. Daniel comes out of prison a changed man, unsure of who he is and haunted by the things he had to do to survive it. He's surprised to find that he's not the only one who has ghosts from the past that need laying to rest. Callie needs him as much as he needs her and together they discover that love really the best healer of them all. www.alinarpublishing.com Alexandra’s website – www.alexandramarell.com

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