Damien's Destiny (19 page)

Stubbs took the card at once and came back just as quickly.

“Your father is pleased to admit you, my lord,” Stubbs stated. He tried to mask his satisfaction but didn’t quite manage. Well, at least one person was glad to see him. But then Stubbs had long tried to make life more bearable for the young Rafe.

Rafe walked with determination into the parlor where his father awaited.

The duke was seated in a large armchair facing the entrance. He did not ask Rafe to sit. Rather he stared at him from under bushy eyebrows now streaked with gray, as was his still thick thatch of hair.

“Well, you feel fit enough to call on me, at any rate. I must say you’re looking better than I expected.”

And you did nothing at all to help me feel better
.

“Yes sir, I wanted to show you I am strong and well. I thought you might be interested but perhaps not. I also have a small bit of news to impart.”

The thick eyebrows raised. “Don’t be impertinent, boy. Are you still determined to refuse your place as a lord of the realm? Do you intend to keep on with your nonsensical painting?”

Rafe clamped down on the temper his parent aroused in him so effortlessly. He would no longer let such an out-of-date and unfeeling tyrant affect him.

“Yes sir, I do.”

“And you’re with Lord Sinclair, I believe? Living off his bounty and doing nothing worthwhile.”

Rafe smiled. “What I do doesn’t really concern you, does it, sir? I wanted to tell you only I’m well and that I intend to marry quite soon. I thought I should inform you before you read about it in the papers.”

The Duke of Essingdon said nothing for a while, merely stared at his son, so like him in appearance, so different in everything else.

“Humphhh.” Essingdon snorted. “I suppose to that sister of Sinclair’s. Pretty but not up to your mark as the son of a duke. She’s never entered society and taken the place she was born to. With your rank you could aspire to a daughter of the highest lord in the land. I’m surprised you bothered to let me know. You knew I’d say you could do much better.”

Rafe had never been asked to sit, so he started to turn away without answering. Then he turned back.

“Sir, I have tried to show my respect by informing you of my plans. However if you say one more word against Lady Debora I will walk out of here and never have any contact with you again.”

“Hush, boy,” roared the Duke. “I can easily disinherit you, you know.”

“Then do so,” Rafe answered. “Goodbye, sir.”

He wheeled again to go but not before he’d seen his father put out one hand. “Rafe, don’t leave just yet.” He harrumphed and then continued gruffly. “I must say that’s the proper way you should feel about your wife-to-be.”

Rafe turned back on his heel. His father, making the closest thing to an apology? By far the strongest peace overture he’d ever made. Rafe looked sharply at the old man. He’d learned a lot about deciphering hidden emotions when he was trying to find a weak spot in his African jailers. Reading another’s secret thoughts had sometimes been essential. Sometimes the toughest of them harbored a compassion they were ashamed to show.

His father definitely had a glint of appeal lurking deep in his eyes. The Duke was who he was, he would never apologize or show a smidgeon of affection for his only son. But he was not as adamantly opposed to his son as Rafe had thought. Once he gave up his hopeless quest to turn Rafe into a replica of himself they might reach some kind of accommodation with each other.

An accommodation closer than Rafe had ever dreamed possible.

Not much, to be sure, but perhaps they could learn to treat each other with civility.

“Would you like me to bring Debby to meet you once we are married, sir? I hope to make that quite soon.”

The look of relief that flitted briefly on the old Duke’s face was quite revealing, although he only gave a terse nod of acceptance.

The crafty old fox. Rafe grinned. He suspected his father had gotten exactly what he wanted. A total surprise since he hadn’t thought the Duke would ever want anything from his son at all. He doubtless knew everything there was to know about both Debora and the horrible time in Africa. His resources for information were impressive. Talk about a spider marking time in his web.

What had changed his mind, even a little? Was he possibly impressed his son had not only survived his tortuous time but possibly changed for the better from it? Could he even feel a smidgeon of pride for Rafe?

More pleased than he’d expected, Rafe bade his father a polite goodbye and left to go home to Debora. And the new life awaiting him.

Chapter Sixteen

Toria well knew she’d made an almost irreparable blunder when she’d so thoroughly rejected Damien. And in such a disgusting fashion. At the time she’d felt powerless to do anything else but that fact now brought little consolation. She could still shut her eyes and the horrid face of Baron Heath leered down at her. Even though her heart knew Damien was nothing like the baron, her stupid reaction to his trying to enter her body had taken control of her mind and body.

She longed to throw herself in his arms and beg Damien to forgive her. She knew he would for he was generous with everyone. But what if she recoiled once again? That could easily mean the final end of his love for her and she was afraid to take the chance, much as she longed for the warmth and strength of his embrace.

He was so dratted polite. Holding doors and chairs for her, scrupulously showing her every attention she could want except for his touch. His whole bearing toward her had changed. He was always a courteous man but now he looked at her with a remote glance and stern features. She was not used to this Damien and she didn’t like it one bit.

She just didn’t know what to do to force herself past this barrier. She was well aware it was up to her.

Their rides were helping, as daily they conversed on wider subjects. Toria loved to get him talking about politics and he said enough for her to realize he had inner access to government secrets and was trusted by the powers of the War Ministry.

She daily felt closer to him and her regrets strengthened until she thought of little else. Still she didn’t trust herself not to throw herself at him and kiss him as she longed to do. He was such a handsome and appealing man. As beautiful as any man could possibly be. A warm sun blazed down on them as Damien checked her saddle. He’d left off his jacket, his powerful body rippling under his linen shirt. His thick hair, always a little longer than the current style, seemed to dare her to run her fingers through it again.

She turned to him as he was mounting Araby.

“Damien, I have a request to make. Will you take me someplace private and teach me how to defend myself? I’d feel so much safer if you did.”

He vaulted on the horse without saying a word and sat looking at her. She bristled a little. She hadn’t thought it so ridiculous a request.

Finally he answered.

“No, I won’t. I think it’s basically a good idea however. I think it’s such a good idea that when we come back from our ride we’ll go to the parlor and I’ll teach you some tricks. And I’ll ask Debora to join us. I’m ashamed you had to ask me. I should have taught both of you long ago. My ridiculous sense of wanting to do everything by myself, I’d guess.”

Puzzled, she mounted and followed him from the stable yard, pleased and disappointed at the same time. She’d been secretly hoping he’d have to touch her for the first time since her self-induced debacle. She’d hoped to be alone in some glade giving them privacy. Then she understood. He didn’t want to be alone with her. He didn’t want to touch her and she couldn’t blame him.

But at least he’d teach her what she desperately wanted to know. She never intended to be a helpless victim again.

* * * * *

After coming to the house from a ride when neither of them said much more, Damien told Stephens to ask Debora to join them in the parlor. Damien and Toria were still in their riding clothes for the simple reason he had given her no time to change. He wanted this new torture to be soon over.

The lesson wasn’t as difficult for him as he’d feared. While Toria’s eyes shone her pleasure, so did Debora’s. May Merlin forgive him for thinking he could take care of everybody all the time. Surely the height of conceit on his part.

He suddenly wanted them both to know every trick he could teach.

When Debora entered she was surprised to see them both grinning.

“Come in, Debby. Toria wants me to show her how to defend herself. I want you to learn too.”

Debby laughed, her first hearty laugh in a long while. Although she seemed almost lighthearted since Rafe made his interesting farewell speech.

“What a wonderful idea, Toria. I love it.”

Damien grinned. He was enjoying the lesson more than he’d expected.

“The first thing to remember if you wish to hurt someone is don’t tuck your thumb in your fist. It might feel natural for you to do so but you might injure your thumb and you also diminish your force. Then I want to show you how to put the most strength behind your punch. I’ll show you both much more but we’ll start with this. Throw your weight from your arm muscles and not your fist.”

He pulled a couple of pillows off one of the sofas and made them practice until he was satisfied. When he saw them both rubbing their upper arms he laughed.

“I want you both to practice with pillows. You’ll soon get the feel of when you’re using the proper method. I want it to be almost automatic to throw your weight behind every punch.

“Now I’ll go on to a more important lesson. What to do if a man attempts to rape you.”

Both girls stared at him.

“Besides beating him with both fists?” Toria asked.

Her big-eyed innocence made him long to crush her to him. Thank Merlin he’d asked Debora to join this lesson.

He couldn’t help beaming at her. Blessed Merlin but she was basically untainted in spite of the baron. If Debora hadn’t been present he’d doubtless have moved to take her in his arms and kiss her doubts away.

“There’s a lot you can do. You must forget everything except the fact you’re confronting a monster and attack him directly in his groin. Kick him, hit him with your knee, use your fists.”

Debora flushed and Toria looked incredulous.

“You mean hit him right where his thing is?”

Damien gave a bark of laughter. She definitely tested his sanity but it was almost worth it.

“There’s another name besides ‘thing’. Many people call it a rod but the actual name is penis, Toria and it’s by far the most sensitive spot in any male’s anatomy. If you hit him, hard, with your knee or your fist, he will definitely crumple and fall to the ground. The pain is excruciating for any man.”

She beamed. Damien had to smile. She looked positively bloodthirsty.

“Needless to say I won’t be demonstrating this part of the lesson.”

She rushed up and kissed him on the cheek.

“Oh, I do thank you, Damien. I wish I’d known all of this sooner.”

She rushed out of the room, grabbing a pillow to her as she went and Damien stood looking after her.

I wish you had too, my love. If I’d known you I like to think I’d have taught you and then your spirit would have never been blighted
.

He called out as she reached the doorway. “Toria, you might try practicing with your left arm also. You don’t want to wear your poor right arm out.”

She wheeled around, gave him an indignant look and then left. Evidently she didn’t think this a teasing matter.

His grin grew wider. She certainly didn’t seem at all crushed now. At least she’d liked his teaching.

And she’d kissed him. Of her own accord.

* * * * *

Damien was growing increasingly worried. His mage’s prescience told him the baron was about to make another attempt to snatch and defile his beloved. He reviewed every security measure he’d taken and could see no way to improve what he’d done. Guards policed every inch of the Tregaron boundaries. He was with Toria every moment he could be and still keep his sanity. They rode together, ate together, did everything but sleep together. Although he wanted nothing more than to add that last activity to his list of how he protected her, he contented himself with the fact her bedroom was adjacent to his and he could hear the slightest commotion.

Torture and comfort at the same time.

She’d lost most of her embarrassment and reserve when near him, although he often caught her looking at him with an expression he couldn’t decipher. Time and again he fought off the old temptation to bewitch her long enough to get her in his bed. If he could only once show her the ecstasy they could find together, he was sure he could then lift the spell and she’d still be his. Either his pride or his innate desire of wanting her to come to him on her own always held him back.

He had to be the biggest idiot on the face of the earth.

In the meantime, he fretted and watched over her as much as he could without alarming her. He knew where she was every minute of the day, whether she was in the house, the garden or the stables. Still he worried.