Page 33 of A Bride for the Devilish Duke (Marriage by Midnight #2)

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

D amien watched Emma as she sat on the stump of a tree, watching the placid water of the pond.

The duel was over.

The Regent had declared the need for sustenance and Sir Thomas had been quick to offer his house for breakfast. The twins had cried off and received a disapproving glare from their sovereign. Charles had been blessed with a stupendous clap on his back and the honor of being addressed by his first name.

The Duke and Duchess of Redmane had been forgotten, fading into the misty background. They had largely forgotten the others, lost in silent looks and unspoken words.

She looks desperately unhappy. And I have caused it. I would sever a limb to spare her unhappiness. No, I will not pretend. I could have spared her by telling her all of my secrets. I chose not to. I choose not. I am to blame and must accept it.

Damien hated himself, felt the urge to scourge himself for the crime of causing such a beautiful creature pain. He took a step towards her, started to speak but could find no words.

There was nothing left to say except to tell her what he had sworn to tell no one.

“I cannot fathom how one can go from such heights of bliss to depths of despair in such a short space of time,” Emma murmured vacantly.

“I couldn’t say,” he replied, “I have rarely experienced heights of bliss. Not until...”

Emma glanced at him. Her hair hung about her face, shadowing her eyes. She looked haunted. Or haunting . She could easily be a devastating phantom, sent to dog his footsteps in vengeance. If so, he would wish for the day when he would join her across the great divide.

“Until…?” she asked.

“Until I met you,” he finished—words that now felt empty.

“Until you discovered that I was pursuing you simply for your title,” she muttered, chin resting in her hands.

“That did not happen. I do not believe it,” he replied.

“Do you always say that which you do not believe in?”

“No, that was anger talking. A sudden madness. It did not come from the heart.”

“But how can I know what is in your heart?” Emma said, plaintive, “I want to, but it is closed to me.”

Damien felt each word like a knife. He reeled from the blows, consumed by guilt.

Guilt at betraying his cause. Betraying his brother. His revenge.

But now, a greater guilt. At hurting his love.

His true love.

He rushed to her, falling to his knees before her. But Emma rose and stepped away, shaking her head.

“ No , I will not allow myself to fall under your spell again. Do not bewitch me!” she snapped.

Damien felt his shoulders crumple. “I bewitch ? I am no sorcerer. I am just a bumbling man who thought himself content with naught but a quest. I thought it enough to sustain me but discovered it was poor fare. You showed me what I needed to sustain myself. I cast no spells.”

He rose to pursue her but she darted out of his reach, jumping onto a log that crossed a trickling stream that fed into the pond.

“Yet I am under one. I should have let you accept the Regent's offer to annul this marriage! I should have begged you to do it. But I could not, because the thought of not being with you, waking in your bed, sleeping in your arms... those thoughts make me wish I were dead!”

Damien stepped onto the log and Emma tried to back away further. Impulsively, he lunged for her, caught her in his arms. She struggled, and suddenly his balance was gone. He released her, arms windmilling for balance. Emma clutched at him, and... he righted himself, balance restored.

“I am sorry for my foolish comments. They were born of worry. Please forgive me,” he said breathlessly.

Emma shook her head in sorrow, stepping away. “I will not live with secrets.”

“You know of my past. Of my father and my brother,” he tried.

She scoffed. “But what about your present? You spoke of a revenge. You disappear on business and come back to me wounded and scarred!”

“I swore an oath,” he uttered.

“To me when we married,” she retorted.

“To my brother, before we married, and I do not break my oaths.”

She cannot ask me to. I will fight for her. Kill for her. I will die for her, but I will not break my oath. And yet what use is honor to a man whose house is as empty as his heart?

He dropped down to sit upon the log, feet dangling to brush the surface of the water. It felt as though Emma were slipping from his grasp, fading into the mist that still clung to the cool, dark places between the trees.

It does not matter. The Regent is on my side. The twins cannot sway him now. I do not need this marriage any longer. And there is only one more property for me to destroy and my father's legacy is gone. All we have ever wanted. All I have ever wanted.

Except, it wasn't.

It failed to even remotely fill the yawning chasm within him. Once, the thought of vengeance had been the fire that kept him warm through long winter nights, the food that fed him. Now, it was as ephemeral as smoke. The idea of enjoying his revenge at the expense of even a day lost in company with Emma seemed hollow.

She sighed from beside him. “From the day we met, you were a closed book. I never expected to be able to understand your motivations in wishing to marry me. To understand you. I told myself that it did not matter, because I did not love you. All that mattered was my duty to my family.”

She sat beside him and her rose-lily perfume filled his senses. He put out a hand and she withdrew hers. It was worse than the pain from a flaming timber that had once fallen across his back. Or the musket ball from a nightwatchman that had seared a path along his ribs.

“I have a duty to my family too,” Damien whispered, “I cannot put it aside.”

“I do not ask you to. Just let me help you fulfill it!” Emma entreated, “Or keep your secrets and... let me go!”

Her last words were spoken through tears. She choked on them, burying her face in her hands.

Damien was at a crossroads .

He could take the path of separation and secrecy. Fulfill his revenge and live his life alone.

Or I can keep my wife. But to do that I must break my oath to Harry. Harry would think it a simple decision. He would let her go and complete his revenge. My father would do the same. Damn him! I will not be like him!

He raised his head and met her gaze in earnest. “I swore an oath that I would revenge myself and my brother on our father's memory. By destroying it. I set out to burn his legacy to the ground. To erase his fortune, the business empire he built in life. And I have almost succeeded. Only his warehouses in Wapping survive. My last attempt to destroy them almost cost me my life. And now, I have broken my oath.”

Emma turned to look at him slowly, eyes wide. He watched her, finally open and vulnerable before her.

“The pages are open for you to read. There are no more secrets. I am naked before you. You may stab me through the heart now if you wish. I will not try to stop you.”

Emma said nothing.

Then, after a long, held breath, she took his face in her hands and kissed him.

It felt like their first kiss.

It was new and thrilling, lightning coursing from his mouth to his manhood, awakening his loins immediately.

Damien grasped Emma fiercely, hungrily, clutching her to him even as he tried to drink her in through his kisses. He heard her moan against his lips, felt her sigh in surrender. Her body melted into his and triumph surged in Damien. It was the most primitive of feelings, the urge of a barbarian achieving his greatest victory.

Damien could feel in Emma's body, pressed against his, that she was not bidding a passionate farewell. She clutched him as hard as he held her. In the darkness of closed eyes, his sense of place sped away like a swift darting from the eaves of a barn. His balance slowly shifted as his awareness of their precarious perch decreased.

Only just before they fell did Damien's eyes fly open.

Emma's never did.

They fell into the icy water together, still holding each other. It was barely deep enough to cover their legs but it was chilly and it flowed over their whole bodies as they flailed in its frigid current.

Damien recovered his equilibrium first, getting his feet under him and picking up his wife. He tossed his hair from his face, grinning at their predicament. Emma buried her face in his shoulder, laughing until her shoulders shook. He carried her back through the wood to the spot where they had left the trap. As he walked, Emma's laughter subsided.

“That is not the reaction I expected to such a revelation,” Damien said.

Emma's head rested on his shoulder—she was quiet now, eyes seeming to gaze into the middle distance but not taking in what was immediately before them.

“I do not know how to react. It seems appallingly dangerous. Was your father so hateful?”

“ Utterly . His neglect almost killed us both and he would have us disinherited if he did not think we lived up to his example. He does not deserve the legacy of wealth and achievement that he has. That is why I took up the Dukedom. To ensure nothing of his legacy survives.”

Damien carefully negotiated the wild woodland until he had reached the path, protecting Emma from wayward branches or brambles as he went. It was a relief to finally speak the full truth aloud. He had not realized the full weight of that burden until now.

“But what will become of you when the last of it is destroyed? Those properties are now yours,” Emma asked.

And here is the moment. The crossroads, sometime before I had expected to reach it. Will she take the path I hope? The same path as I am walking?

“I have cut my own income by destroying my father's legacy. There are still the lands around Redmane, the tenants there. But my circumstances will be reduced. I have sold much of the remaining property to compensate for the income I am losing. If it ever comes to it… I had thought about starting again.”

They reached the trap and he gently put Emma down on her feet. She swiped wet hair from her face, looking at Damien for a moment.

“Starting again? In England?”

Damien shook his head. “As a new man, alone, in America. No title. No history, and likely no status, at least to begin with. That is what this marriage had been building to. Could you accept a husband who is a... pauper?”

There was more hope in his voice than he would have liked. He did not want to be beholden. Or to come across as a beggar, desperate for Emma's companionship. But it could not be helped.

This is what he wished for above all else. Beyond wealth and reputation. This woman by his side. Would she accept him knowing what and who he was?

Her soaked dress clung to her, revealing her breasts and hips in scandalous and tantalizing ways. But Damien could not take his eyes from her face. Fresh with red cheeks and bright eyes. Hair dark from the water and hanging straight down her back. She was a pagan sorceress or a woodland spirit. Her true beauty was in her eyes. They seemed to glow with life, rendering her radiant. Damien fell to his knees before her.

“You spoke of being bewitched. It is I who has fallen under a spell. Fate brought us together. I have this one task to do. One more act of vengeance and then my mind, body, and soul, will forever belong to you. Will you accept me as an ordinary man? I can offer you nothing but a lifetime of struggle and my eternal devotion.”

Emma looked down at him for a long time and Damien felt his life hanging in the balance. He wavered on the knife's edge of the crossroads, knowing that if Emma chose one way, his life would be empty and lonely. If she chose another, then he would face kings, emperors, saints, or gods with head high, though he stood before them barefoot and ragged.

“I would accept you if you came to me... barefoot and ragged.”

Her plucking his own thoughts out of his head was enough to take his breath away. Truly, Emma was one half of an immortal soul, and he the other. He began to smile but she stepped closer, cupping his upturned face in her hands and putting a finger across his lips.

“Wait, my love,” she began. “Will you accept me, no matter what the circumstances or the conditions?”

Damien felt the ominous significance of her words.

She spoke precisely and from the heart . This was no fencing match of words between them.

Oh, Emma, what shackles do you seek to chain me with? What can I accept? Will you ask me to put aside my revenge? I have already broken my oath to Harry. Can I foreswear my quest for the sake of your love?

The answer came instantly to Damien's mind. Yes . When Emma spoke, Damien felt as though he were reliving a moment already passed. As though it were already a memory.

“Give up your revenge. Do not put yourself at risk any longer. I could not bear the thought of losing you. We can go to America or India or anywhere. I will live as a fisherman's wife, or a farmer or a beggar. But give it up.”

And allow my father to be revered. Allow his legacy to continue. Allow him victory in the end…

“I will.”