Page 59 of The Rogue’s Embrace

The girls were finally asleep, their hiccupped breathing the last remnants of their tears. Hazard lay between their beds on the floor, his ears nervously perked, as they had been since they had arrived back at the castle.

Toren listened to the sounds through the open door, soft murmurs that held promise of a better day tomorrow, before Adalia stepped out into the hallway and clicked the door to the twins' room closed.

Her fingers shook on the doorknob, the first slip of the steely fa?ade she had worn since gathering Josalyn in her arms.

Calm, comforting, she had let nothing but the warm presence of reassuring safety show in front of the girls.

Toren, on the other hand, had been a raging oaf. Furious beyond the pale on the journey home, pacing in the girls' room as Adalia had tried to soothe them to sleep.

It wasn't until she caught his eye with her glare, pointing to the door, that he realized he was doing the girls more harm than good by staying in their room. So he had continued his pacing just outside their chamber, watching the three of them through the crack he had left open in the door.

Her hand leaving the brass knob, Adalia stretched her fingers wide, shaking them in attempt to still the quake as they dropped to her side. Her head down, she took five steps around and past Toren before she stumbled to the side, catching herself on the stone wall of the hallway.

He was to her in one stride, grabbing her around the waist. For an instant, he thought she would fight his touch, shove him away as he deserved.

Instead, she fell back into him, her body turned to jelly, all strength deserting her.

"I failed you—them."

The words, a low, brutal whisper, dragged from his throat.

"No."

She lifted her arm, motioning down the hall.

Biting his tongue, Toren set his arm around her waist, walking her down the corridor, every step she took a monumental effort. He turned into his chambers, bringing her to a chair by the fireplace and setting her down.

She slumped back in the wingback chair, looking up at him. Where her body failed her, her eyes did not. Alive with vehemence, her look pinned him. "No, you didn't fail us, Toren. Do not think that. You were there when we needed you."

"No. I should have been there from the beginning. My men—I told them space—but it was too much."

His head shook, his lip snarling as his look landed on the flames of the fire. "That you had to pick up a knife and—"

His gaze whipped to her. "Where in the hell did you even find a knife, Adalia?"

"The milliner—I saw it on his front table as we went up onto the knoll. I was chasing them in circles—I was the squirrel and they were my nuts and then I was at the bottom of the hill and they were at the top and then…"

She gasped a breath. "Then he grabbed Josalyn and I was by the knife so I took it and ran after him."

"You are a fierce protector, Adalia."

"I am nothing of the sort."

Her voice went soft. "I could not protect them—not on my own."

The last thing he wanted to do was be still, but he forced himself to sit down in front of Adalia. Sinking onto the ottoman, he leaned forward, his hands sliding over her knees through her skirts. "You saved Josalyn from being stolen, Adalia. You made it so difficult for him to take her, that you stalled him long enough. It was all that was needed."

"Yet I was worthless. Worthless at the one time I needed not to be. I thought…I thought I could do more in that situation. I thought I was stronger—I always imagined I could do more."

Her head shook, eyes closing. "But I couldn't—I couldn't protect them any more than a fly could."

His fingers lifted, running along her cheek that had been struck, and she jerked away at the touch, not opening her eyes. The skin along her cheekbone was already yellow, quickly turning into a blue-black swath marring her flawless skin.

All he wanted was for her to rail at him—scream about how he had failed them.

Not this. Not this defeat that had swallowed her.

Her mouth opened, yet her eyes remained closed. "You didn't fail us, Toren—I let this happen. I never should have allowed us to go. Never should have felt so safe I thought playing on some grass under a tree was a good idea. I have been lulled into this sense of security here, so much so that I have let my guard erode. Idiotic, when we still don't know what the threat is, what Theo was warning me against. So I don't blame you. You never could have known. But I—I should have been more careful."

Hell. He wanted to tell her. Needed to tell her. Tell her the truth about his own damn imbecilic lies.

He was almost certain of where the threat had come from. And the truth would undoubtedly ease the torture she was heaping upon herself. But he had to keep this lie.

He had failed her. More than she would ever know.

"Open your eyes, Adalia."

His fingers went under her chin, tilting her face to him.

Her eyelids cracked open, her look wary as it met his gaze.

"You need to stop. You do not give me way to skirt the blame on this, just to blame yourself. I am the one that suggested we go to the village. I am the one that walked away from the three of you, leaving you vulnerable. I am the one that has not taken this threat as seriously as I need to. And I will not allow you to flog yourself on the matter."

"You have not taken this threat seriously? But the note. The missive from Theo."

"Yes. And I thought I gave it grave enough weight. But I did not heed the warning properly."

His hand dropped from her chin, curling into a fist. "No more."

Her eyes closed to him, her head shaking. "That man—he found us in the village, Toren. How did he not make it onto your land—get to us sooner?"

"No one moves onto my land that has not been thoroughly scrutinized. It has always been so. A blackguard like that would have never made it past my gamekeepers. They track everything on Dellon land."

He stood, his fist thumping onto his thigh. "And I intend to find out where in the hell that bloody miscreant came from."

His boots shuffling past her skirts, Toren stepped away from the chair.

She jumped to her feet, grabbing his elbow and making him pause. "Wait. Where are you going?"

"My men are holding that blackguard at my gamekeeper's lodge. I am going to get some answers."

She nodded, worry plain on her face. "Toren…be careful."

He afforded himself a moment to look down at her. But his eyes could go nowhere but to her bruised cheek. He touched the bruise, the slight scab forming on her skin at the apex of her cheekbone. The image of her getting smacked to the ground flashed into his mind. Her body flying through the air. Thudding to the ground.

He held onto the image, held onto it tight, not letting it dissipate from his mind. Held onto the rage that swelled in his chest, spinning, demanding freedom.

He didn't agree to her request. Just turned and walked out of the room.

Careful, he was not about to be.

He needed to break some bones.

The doorknob creaked, and Adalia slapped the stack of playing cards onto the small table. Dismissing the salvation of them—they had kept her hands busy for the last three hours—she jumped to her feet and ran across the room.

Toren stepped into his room, closing the door behind him just as Adalia reached him, planting herself in front of him.

She quickly scanned his body. His black tailcoat and cravat long gone, his dark waistcoat and white linen shirt were unusually rumpled. Pink tinged his knuckles—from what she didn't want to guess—but aside from that he looked perfectly fine.

Her breath exhaled in a hiss, expelling air that had held firm in her chest since Toren had left.

"You are unharmed?"

Her hands went to his sleeves, searching his arms beneath the linen.

Toren's dark head cocked at her. "That is your first question? You are not curious what I learned?"

"Of course I am, but not if it comes at the price of injury to you."

He twisted his hands upward to grasp her probing fingers. Setting her hands off of his arms, he stepped around her, unbuttoning his waistcoat.

"I am unharmed,"

he said, his words clipped.

She followed him across the room as he peeled off his waistcoat and then sat on one of the wingback chairs by the fire. Adalia went to her knees in front of him, lifting his foot and starting to tug off his tall black boots. "What did you learn?"

Toren stared down at her for a long moment, his face gone to its customary blankness. "The man said they knew where you and the twins were because the matter of the special license by the archbishop was leaked."

"It was? But you said that would remain a secret until it was determined that the twins were safe."

"I was assured it would be. And I will be paying the archbishop another visit the next time I am in London."

She yanked on his boot, falling back onto her heels as it freed from his foot. She looked up at him, a frown settling onto her face. "Then it is common knowledge that we are married?"

"Apparently."

She nodded, her frown deepening as she set his left boot aside.

"That upsets you?"

"No."

She picked up his right foot, tugging on the boot. "I had just hoped I would be the one to share the news with Violet and Cass. I know the worry they must have been under as to where I have been, and then to learn that I had run off and gotten married without telling them would surely upset them."

"I am positive they will understand when you explain the situation."

"Yes."

A final tug, and the right boot was freed. "And now I can write to each of them since it is no longer a secret."

Setting his right boot in alignment with the other, her hands settled into her lap as she looked up at Toren. His mask of indifference wavering, his brow had creased as he watched her movements, his look much akin to the rage he had been in when he had left for the gamekeeper's cottage. "What? What is in your face, Toren? You are still angry?"

"You are worried that your friends haven't gotten a letter from you."

"Of course I am. They love me and I would not want them to worry about me."

"You should be worried about yourself, Adalia."

Uneasiness settled into her chest. She pushed herself up to her bare feet, tightening the belt of the pale blue silk robe she had wrapped around her. Taking a step backward, her arms crossed in front of her ribcage. Terrified at what he had to say, she still managed to force the one word from her throat. "Why?"

Looking up at her, his brown eyes shot through her, his jaw shifting to the side. "That blackguard admitted to working for a Mr. Trether."

Her arms clenched around her torso as the blood drained from her face. "Mr. Trether?"

"Yes. And I had hoped I would not, but I can see by your face you know the name, so do not try to deny it, Adalia."

Blast it. Not Mr. Trether. No. Impossible. He wouldn't have tried to harm the twins. And Theo would not have known of him. Would not have known to warn her against him. Would he?

Toren sprang to his feet. "Stop moving, Adalia."

Unaware she had even been shuffling backward, Adalia stilled her legs, her head shaking.

He closed the distance between them, his stare piercing her. "Tell me who the hell this Mr. Trether is to you, Adalia."

Staring at his chest, she could not look up and meet his eyes. Not when all of this had been her fault. Her fault from the beginning. And then Theo had somehow gotten involved…and killed…her stomach started to roil. "I…I made a deal with the devil."

"You what?"

Her head still shaking, trembles ran up and down her body, chilling her. She attempted a deep breath to steady herself, but it couldn't make it past her throat. "Months ago—when I first opened the Revelry's Tempest—I underestimated how much money I needed in my bank to start the gaming house. Mr. Trether was recommended to me by an acquaintance as a man that would front me funds—I was in danger of losing my only means to support the twins and the Alton estate, so you must understand how very desperate I was. I met with him and he looked respectable, well-mannered—indistinguishable from the ton's elite. I thought he was something very different from what he is. I should have known I was making a deal with the devil."

"So Mr. Trether is a moneylender?"

"Not just any moneylender—Mr. Trether is notorious in the rookeries for his establishments—gaming hells—I did not know it at the time I agreed to his deal. And it wasn't until much after that first transaction that I realized his ways and his…his intentions."

Toren's brown eyes narrowed at her, the crease in his brow deepening. "What sort of intentions did he have?"

"The kind that keep me indebted to him. I could have paid him back the total sum plus interest in the second week after the loan, but he refuses to accept the last payment. I did not understand what game he played with me. But Cass knew—Logan knew. They said he was dangerous only I didn't listen. And he had gotten aggressive in approaching me, in how he wanted to control me. Control the gaming. But I never thought he would…"

Her hand covered her mouth as bile chased up her throat. "I never imagined he would threaten the girls. Never. They are just little girls—why would he do that?"

"If he had one of the girls would you have done anything he asked of you?"

Her eyes flew wide, her face blanching. She slowly nodded.

"What did he really want of you, Adalia?"

"He wanted the Revelry's Tempest…the money, the house makes so much…and he wanted me."

"Did he hurt you, Adalia?"

Toren's question chiseled through gritted teeth.

Her breath quivered into her lungs. "A bruise, nothing?—"

"Hell—he bloody well bruised you, Adalia?"

"I thought it was nothing—Logan stopped him. And it was right after he proposed and I refused him. He was furious and he grabbed me and Logan was the only reason he stopped—he instantly calmed and apologized, but I should have known then he would not stop until…"

She swallowed a sudden sob. "Cass warned me—she knew he was dangerous, but I put him off time and again so I thought that was the end of it."

"Dammit, Adalia."

The mask of indifference completely dissolved from his face, Toren grabbed her shoulders, slightly shaking her. "Why didn't you tell me of this before?"

"Had I ever thought…"

Her hands fought their way to her face, rubbing her eyes, settling on her temples. It all made perfect sense. Mr. Trether had said in their last meeting he would force her to listen to him—do as he bade. She owed him and he would own her, willing or not. She had just never imagined he was this dangerous—that he would go this far—that anyone would. To try and take a child—the man was the lowest of the low. "I thought he was handled, Toren—an annoyance, nothing more. I never imagined?—"

"You don't trust me?"

She looked up at Toren. Fury simmered behind his brown eyes. "I know Theo said I could trust you, and I would have told you, but…"

"But what? You trusted me enough to marry me, but not to tell me of this?"

"I trusted Theo in sending me to you—not you, Toren. Those are very different things."

"Bloody hell, Adalia, those are not different."

His fingers dug into her shoulders. "Have I not done enough over the past month for you—for the twins—to make you trust me?"

"You have—you have."

Her hands slapped down onto his upper arms, gripping muscle through his shirt. "By everything you have done you made me trust you and I love you for it."

Hell.

The thought slipped out of her mouth before she could censor it.

She had planned to never speak the words, never fully acknowledge them to herself. It was easier that way. Simpler. But even with her adamant skirting of the truth, she had known it for weeks now, ever since their argument in the stables.

Toren only drove her insane for one reason. She loved him.

His hands snapped from her shoulders as he jerked a step backward, his face contorting. Shock. Horrification. She wasn't sure. Whatever played out on his features, it wasn't good.

"No. I did not just say that,"

she blurted out, waving her hands between them.

"You didn't mean it?"

"No—I mean yes—I meant it. But I know—I know how you feel and I never wanted to see this look on your face. I never was going to tell you, because, well, you…"

Her voice trailed off, unable to finish her thought.

Because he wasn't capable of love. Because he would never return the sentiment to her. Because she had fallen stupidly, foolishly in love with a man—once again—that would never love her in return.

She had travelled this path before, and she knew the pain involved. So, no. She had never intended to tell him.

He turned away from her, his hand running through his dark hair, his voice grave. "Adalia, you know I cannot return the sentiment. I do not know how."

"Forget I said it, Toren."

Damn her tongue. Damn her heart for leaping past her mind. She had never wanted to put him in this awkward position—never wanted to push him for more, for he had done everything within his power for her and the twins, and that was enough.

Her look trained on his profile, she took a step forward, wanting to reach out and touch the side of his shoulder, but she held her hand firmly at her side. "Please, just forget I uttered the words. I am not asking or expecting anything of you—you have done more than enough for the twins, for me. Forget you ever heard my words. I never meant to say them."

His chin dropped as his look went to the floor. "I did not want this complication, Adalia."

"I know. You were very honest with me. And I was honest with you when I said I was of like mind on the subject. It is just…these last weeks. It changed. I changed. I did not intend it to happen. Please, I beg you to just forget it, Toren."

He shrugged, looking to her. The expressionless mask had fixed once more onto his face.

Adalia moved in front of him, desperately grasping at anything that would change the topic. "What I did want to tell you was thank you."

His eyes lifted to look over her head, avoiding her gaze. "For what?"

"I did not get to thank you properly earlier for saving us."

She lifted a hand to slip it along his waist, sliding closer to him. "It is horrible of me—and I blame my brothers for my lack of squeamishness—but when I heard the crack of that man's arm under your hands, his wail, I felt no sympathy for him. I only felt a surge of…pride…"

"Pride?"

His brown eyes lowered, meeting hers.

"Yes. I know that is another one of those unexplainable emotions you take no stock in."

She slipped her other hand lightly around his waist. "Pride that you were my husband. That you would break a man like that for me, for the girls. I know I should not be so callous—so unrefined. But it—your brute strength—quite frankly, it made me wish we were alone in your room."

His eyebrow cocked. "Are you attempting to seduce me, Adalia?"

"Possibly. I am appreciative. And we are now alone in your chambers."

Her hands slipped from his waist, entwining around his arms until she could thread her fingers along his. "I have been quite fixated on these amazingly quick hands of yours since Dellington."

The wariness dissipated from his gaze, his brown eyes starting to smolder.

Exactly what she needed in the moment.

She stepped into him, brushing her body against his. Not giving him a moment to wonder at her actions or to question her further. She could not let her humiliation at the slip of her tongue build any further. And this was the best way to move forth.

For both of them.

If he couldn't return her sentiments, he could give her this. His body on hers. His hands, his mouth commandeering her senses.

This, he was willing to give her. He had proven that, time and again.

And this would be enough.

She accepted that.

She had to accept that.

His arm fully asleep, dead weight under Adalia's sleeping head, Toren's cheek scrunched as he tried to shift without waking her.

If he didn't get blood flowing back to his fingers soon, he feared losing the whole limb. She hadn't left the room after sex, as was usually her way. As he preferred it.

But he couldn't blame Adalia. The whole day had been exhausting. And the five different, inventive ways she had just shown her appreciation to him and his body had only exasperated her fatigue.

Not that he minded in the slightest. Adalia and her tongue were very good at showing appreciation. So much so that he wished there were a few more bones to break in front of her, if what he had just experienced was his reward.

She jostled, mumbling nonsensical in her sleep. A waft of her honey-scented hair escaped, reaching his nose, and his eyes dipped to the top of her head.

Adalia loved him.

Her own words, whether she had meant to say them or not. He had warned her against it at the beginning, and she had agreed that love need not have a place in their marriage.

They had both agreed.

Little good that did.

Toren had tried to put it out of his mind, her words. She had said to forget she spoke the sentiment. But she hadn't promised she would fall out of love with him. And he had no intention of being unkind to her in order for that to happen.

Yet he didn't want to encourage her love. He didn't want to have to bear the expectant look from her if she ever said it again. The hopes he would be dashing, time and again. He couldn't love her, yet he didn't want to see her in pain because of his own inadequacies.

Inadequacies? Since when had he considered his lack of feeling as an inadequacy?

He had always enjoyed the detachment it gave him from people. It made him smart when it came to his estate and investments. Smart when it came to parliament. Smart when it came to choosing how to conduct oneself.

His lack of feeling was an asset, not an inadequacy. He had to remember that, just as he had always been taught.

A pain shot into his shoulder, spearing through the dulled muscles. He had to move.

His stomach muscles tightened under her arm flopped along his stomach, and he raised his shoulders from the bed, lifting Adalia with him. Cradling her, he attempted to slide her off his immobile arm onto a pillow.

Her temple almost touching the pillow, she suddenly jolted upright, frantic, tears streaming down her face. He sat up next to her. It took her a long, frantic moment to orientate herself to him in the low light of the coals glowing in the fireplace.

"Oh. Oh."

Soft murmurs escaped her as she wiped tears from her cheeks. Her eyes went down to his bare upper chest, and her palm ran haphazardly across his skin, brushing wetness away. He hadn't even felt the warm tears pooling on his skin until she had pulled away. "Oh. I am sorry."

"You need not be. What has brought tears to your sleep?"

Her look dipped from him as she concentrated on quickly brushing the last streaks of wetness from his chest. Tears continued to drop into her lap. "It is no bother."

He tilted her chin upward. "Tell me."

Her head shaking, she scooted away from him on the bed, her words a rapid whisper. "Everything tumbled around me in the end. Real—they were real in my dream, I could feel them. My brothers. Touch them again. Truly touch them. Hug them. Laugh with them. It was real. I could feel it. They were all around me and I was warm—safe. And then it tumbled away. But it was so real, and I was happy and they were right with me."

"And then you woke up?"

"Yes. And they are not real, even though I felt it. Knew they were with me. It just seemed so real."

Turning from him, she reached the edge of the bed, her bare feet dropping to the floor as she reached for her robe on the foot of the bed. Tugging it onto her shoulders, she swiftly stood. "I apologize. You do not need this emotion ruining your sleep and I do not wish to burden you with this. I do not allow myself to think of my brothers when awake."

Wiping tears that would not cease, she started to walk away from the bed. She only made it two steps before her legs buckled. Stumbling backward, she caught herself on the edge of the bed. Sinking, she sat, her shoulders trembling as she curled into herself.

Toren moved across the bed, setting his hand on her shoulder, partly to hold her up, partly to offer awkward comfort.

She hid her face from him. "I thought I was fine to leave. Afford me a moment, please. Just until I get my legs under me."

Her voice cracked in a sob she desperately attempted to suffocate.

His fingers tightened on her shoulder. "You feel the loss of your brothers very deeply, don't you?"

She nodded, still trying to control a sob, her hands pressing over her eyes. "I loved them."

"Why have I never seen this…this sadness in you before?"

Her shoulders lifted with a deep breath that sent a tremble through her body. It took a long moment before her hands lifted from her eyes and she wiped her cheeks with her palms. Her voice shook as she forced words. "I do not think of them during the day—the girls are so resilient—they have suffered their grief over their father so well. Their mother died in childbirth, so they do not remember her, but Caldwell—they remember their father. I do not want to send them to tears, which is what happens if I think on my brothers and then they see me crying. So I do not do that to them. I cannot do that to them. I can control myself so they can move forward. So I hold it in until nighttime, when I am alone in my bed. It is not every night—but in my dreams—I cannot control anything in my dreams."

Toren stared at her back, her long red-blond hair falling in waves atop the silk of her robe. He didn't understand this. Logically, he understood what grief was. Understood that it destroyed weak people. But he didn't think Adalia was weak. He knew she wasn't weak.

Yet there she sat in front of him. A crumpled mess that could not even walk.

And he wanted to make it better for her. Needed to make her not cry. Not suffer this.

She took a shaky breath. "I will leave."

"Why?"

Her right hand went to her face, her fingers pinching the bridge of her nose. "I need to cry and you need to not witness it. So I will leave."

"Wait."

His hand shifted into a clamp on her shoulder. "If you need to cry, Adalia, I do not mind it. And I…"

She looked over her shoulder at him, her green eyes rimmed in red, tears still glistening in heavy droplets on her dark eyelashes. "Yes?"

"I think I would prefer to hold you as you do."

Her fingers dropped from her nose, her eyebrows cocking in confusion. "You prefer to hold me while I cry?"

"Yes."

The word came stilted from his mouth, almost embarrassed. It was clear he had no idea how to give her comfort, even though, at the moment, he wanted nothing more in the world than to be able to do so. He swallowed, attempting words again. "If it will help you, Adalia. Grief such as yours does not seem like it should be suffered alone."

"I have been alone since Caldwell died."

"But you are no longer alone. I am here."

Her look drifted from him, settling on the sheets behind him. "Do you not need your bed empty to sleep?"

"I can make an exception, Adalia."

Her eyes lifted to him. For a long moment, she just looked at him. Confusion, mingled with sadness. His chest tightened. Had he put that despair into her eyes, or had her dream?

Finally, she nodded.

He drew her back into the middle of the bed, settling her head onto the crook between his chest and shoulder, his arm wrapping around her back. It would likely send his arm into painful sleep once more, but he would suffer it.

If it helped her, gladly, he would suffer it.