Dare to Love (16 page)

She should have been shocked. Or insulted. Or embarrassed. But his fingers were pressing against her delicate skin, circling, probing, shooting sparks to her very core.

How could he reduce her to a wanton being with just his hand? She was teetering on the edge, desperate for release. Then Dare shifted without warning and thrust into her.

God in heaven, the feeling was exquisite. There was no pain this time, just a blinding flash of bliss. She felt as though she were drowning, unable to take a breath. Showing no mercy, Dare continued his onslaught, roughly kneading her breasts. His hands were everywhere. She was so weak from desire she could do little more than grab at his shirt, feeling the solid muscle of his arms as he drove into her again and again.

When she thought she could stand no more, he raked his teeth down her neck and nipped at the sensitive peak of her breast.
Yes, yes!
Waves of pleasure crashed over her. She buried her face into his neck to stop from screaming. He thrust a few more times before emitting a loud groan. She was still quivering when he collapsed on top of her, shooting his seed up her thigh.

She was enveloped by his scent, his weight, his heat. It was glorious. Then he rolled to her side and cool air chilled her skin. Instinctively, she leaned into him for warmth, but he raised his arm to cover his face. Saying nothing. Blocking her out.

As the fog of pleasure dissipated, reality returned. How could she have allowed this to happen? She had hoped to convince him of her innocence, but instead she let him seduce her again. And to what end? He was still furious with her. How could she make him understand?

“Dare?” she whispered.

She reached over and placed a hand on his chest. Feeling his heart hammering under her palm, she knew he couldn’t be as unaffected as he appeared. Maybe she could reach him. Maybe he would understand.

He flinched as though she’d branded him. “Go,” he growled through clenched teeth.

“Dare, please listen—”

“Go, now!” and rolled to his side, facing the far wall.

Humiliated, Nivea rolled off the bed. Her legs were so shaky, she could hardly stand. Pain gripped her heart and squeezed through her chest. There was no hiding from the truth—all her dreams, all her illusions were dead.

With tears in her eyes, she grabbed at her undergarments, tugged her clothing into place and fixed her hair as best she could. All the while, Dare didn’t move. He hated her. After all he had been through, he thought she too betrayed him and there was nothing she could say to convince him otherwise.

She walked to the door and paused.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, without knowing exactly what she was apologizing for, and crept out of the room.

The next day, Emma was flitting about the room, eagerly sharing gossip about the evening’s events. Nivea couldn’t bear to be around her. Feeling the worst sort of fool, she needed some place to hide. Knowing few people would venture into the library, she headed there and closed the door.

The room was warm, but there was a light breeze coming through the open windows. Crossing to the sitting area in the corner, she curled up into a worn, comfortable chair and tried to sort out the last few days.

She loved Dare. She knew it was irrational, but that was the truth. She knew her family and friends didn’t understand her lifelong devotion to a man who rarely paid her any mind at all. But it wasn’t as though she’d had a line of suitors vying to woo her.

More importantly, they didn’t appreciate his finer points. He’d been a devoted friend to William for
years
. He’d saved his life, for goodness sake.

To her, he had appeared to be the perfect man—handsome, strong, and controlled—confident of his place in the world. She had always envied him that.

Now, she realized it was all an act. He had no control or confidence. His father’s abuse had caused an anger and resentment so deep, he would never be able to trust her or anyone.

She wanted to help him heal, but he would never let that happen. He hated her, thinking she, too, had betrayed him. That was why he was acting so cold. To punish her.

The worst thing was, she now craved him more. The things he did to her, the way he made her feel—it was unimaginable. Even thinking about it made her flush. She could almost smell his scent on her. Feel his hands running over her skin, his fingers stroking her throbbing core. And his lips…now she knew why women were always twittering about his lips. They trailed fire down her skin. How could she live without ever feeling his touch again?

She would have to. He thought she betrayed him. He would never forgive her. Never forget. They would never be together.

She closed her eyes in defeat. Tired from a restless night sleep, despair swirling through her head, it didn’t take long for the warmth of the room to lull her to sleep.

Nivea awoke to the sound of women’s voices. They were settling on the terrace right outside the window, chattering like magpies. Their topic of conversation brought Nivea fully alert.

“Did you see how angry Lord Landis became last night at the musicale? I thought he was going to burst into flames. La, that was amusing.”

That was Elizabeth Wilshire’s catty voice. Nivea would recognize it anywhere.

“So, is it true? Can he play piano?”

“Oh yes, but he considers it some shameful secret.”

“How do you know about it, Elizabeth?”

Nivea held her breath waiting to hear the response.

“His sister, Anne, told me. She was so mad that Dare dallied with her friend, she wrote and asked me to extract some revenge. She informed me that he had been quite proud of his talent as a child. But her father found it embarrassing and tormented him until he gave it up. Anne said he would be mortified if people knew he played,” Elizabeth gloated.

“It most certainly worked. Did you see how quickly he left? How embarrassing for him. Adair Landis, the great rakehell of London, is afraid to play the piano,” snickered another voice.

“Well,
I
don’t care if he’s afraid of his own shadow. I would still be eager to invite him to my bed,” giggled another female. The others murmured their agreement and they moved on to other subjects.

Nivea sat there, hot with anger. She did not expect any better from Elizabeth, who had always been a mean-spirited shrew. But how could Dare’s sister betray such a confidence? His family was insufferable.

Sickened by their behavior, Nivea spent the better part of the afternoon trying to figure out a way to break the truth to Dare. She was still upset about the way he had treated her, condemning her without any proof. But how could he think otherwise? His parents had both betrayed him, and now his sister. How could he ever have faith in people?

Restless, she went to the window, hoping a cooling breeze might clear her head. She leaned out the casement and sighed.

A hawk glided overhead, lazily floating on the still air above. No other movement was visible. The guests must all be in their rooms, resting up for the evening activities. She decided to do the same when a figure strode across the yard.

It was Dare, heading for the stables. His hair sleek and black in the sun, appearing almost wicked, as did the stark, forbidding planes of his face. Even at a distance, she marveled at how handsome he appeared.

She had to set things to right. She had to make him understand.

As soon as he had ridden away, she ran out to the stable. Finding the groom, she asked him to remain out of sight when Dare returned. Then she headed back to the house and waited.

For the next hour, she paced and fidgeted in her room. She fussed with her gown, pinned and re-pinned her hair and doodled at her desk, stopping every five minutes to peer out the window. Finally, she saw Dare charging across the field back toward the house.

Rushing down the back stairs, she raced outside, arriving just in time to hear him yelling for the stable hand. Then he yelled again when no one appeared. Uttering a string of curses, he leapt down and led the horse into the stable himself.

She heard a stall door slam. Around the corner, the groom peeked out and waved at her. She mouthed the words “thank you,” and he returned to the rear of the stable.

This was it. This was her one chance to make things better. If only she could get him to understand. Her heart hammering, she took a deep breath and crept over to the stall where Dare kept his horse.

He had removed his jacket and flung it over the side of the stall. His shirt, loosened from his tight breeches, clung to his broad shoulders. Judging by the horse’s lathered coat, they must have had a hard run. It snorted emphatically as Dare began to brush him.

Cautiously, Nivea opened the stall’s door and cleared her throat. Dare whirled around, glowered at her, and promptly returned his attention to his horse.

Dear Lord, this was harder than she expected. Her insides were twisted in knots.

“I need to speak with you,” she said, trying to sound firm.

“You have nothing I care to hear.”

She could see the angry set of his jaw as he continued to tend to his horse but refused to let it deter her. “Regardless, I will have my say.”

He stilled, but did not look at her. “Fine. Talk away. You’ll excuse me if I do not respond. I have no doubt anything I say will be thrown back in my face.”

That stung. The pain in his voice was almost too much to bear. But at least she knew she had his attention.

Squaring her shoulders, she said as calmly as she could, “I know you think I betrayed your confidence. That is not true. No matter what you think of me, I would never hurt you so.”

He snorted. “Am I to assume that Elizabeth just guessed that I play the piano?”

“No,” Nivea whispered.

“So, you admit you told her?” he growled over his shoulder.

“No, it was not I.”

He stormed over, stopping inches away, and bellowed, “Who then? Who? After years of hiding my disgrace, one person finds out. One person! And then suddenly my secret is guessed by a virtual stranger? Is that what you expect me to believe?”

Anger radiating off him. His breath was hot, intimidating, on her face. But she couldn’t back away. Not yet.

Locking eyes with him, she said, “No, she didn’t guess. And I didn’t tell her.”

He slammed down the curry brush. “Then who did?”

“I—I—.” Nivea did not want to admit his sister’s role, knowing it would cause him more pain.

“That’s what I thought.” He tried to brush past her. “It’s hard to feign innocence for your betrayal after apologizing for it.”

“What do you mean?”

“As you left my room, I heard you. You apologized.”

She shook her head, confused. “I did no such thing. I—I—”

Then she remembered. “I said I was sorry…not for betraying your confidence, but because I was sorry to see you hurt.”

He took a step toward her and looked her dead in the eye. “But
you
didn’t betray me? So, tell me, Miss Horsham. Who. Did?”

Knowing she had no choice, she breathed one word. “Anne.”

He rolled his eyes at her. “Anne who?”

“Your sister.”

He stopped. Some of the fire seemed to go out of him.

Closing his eyes, he exhaled deeply. “Explain yourself.”

“This morning, I overheard Elizabeth say she received a correspondence from your sister. She’d been angry with you—something about dallying with a friend of hers. She asked Elizabeth to extract some revenge for her. She told her how you played piano, and that your father…disapproved. If she asked you to play, it was sure to upset you.”

Expressions flitted across his handsome face. Anguish, anger, and shame all took a turn as the words sunk in. She wanted to embrace him and soothe away his pain, but he looked so forbidding, she didn’t dare move.

After a moment, he composed his features, stood up tall, and faced her. “It appears I misjudged you. Please accept my apology.”

Nivea felt a small flicker of hope. “So, you believe me?”

“Do I believe that you can be trusted? No. That will never happen. But do I believe that my sister would reveal my darkest secrets to an outsider just to punish me for a deed that had no bearing on her whatsoever? Yes.”

Nivea breathed a heavy sigh. That was not the reaction she had hoped for, but at least it was a start. Maybe she could make this right. If only she could find the words.

“I’ll have you know I find it outrageous how your family treats you. No one should be made to suffer as you do.”

Unimpressed, he bent down to grab the feed bucket, placing it in front of his horse. “My family is of no consequence. Do not let them concern you.”

“But—”

“No buts.” He grabbed her wrist. “This does not concern you. Forget everything I’ve said. I do not want it mentioned again.”

Pain was evident in his eyes. He tried to hide it behind anger, but it was there, along with a hint of fear. The poor man was terrified his indomitable facade would be torn away.

She covered his hand with hers. “Dare, you can trust me. I give you my word that I will never disclose details of your youth.”

He let out a snort. Trust. What a ridiculous concept. He trusted no one. Opening his mouth to tell her so, he stopped, startled.

Nivea stood there, eyes wide and earnest, brow creased with concern. God’s blood, he could almost believe her. So, instead of a flippant retort, he responded, civilly, “Thank you. I would appreciate that.”

At his response, Nivea’s expression transformed—her blue eyes darkened with pleasure and a smile, wide and soft, lit up her face.

His breath caught in his chest. She really was an engaging thing. Not a beauty in the classic sense…her features too soft, her shape too curvy, and her hair pulled back in a careless style
no
one would emulate. But her unaffected air made him feel…comfortable. Almost as though he
could
trust her.

It was an amazing sensation. Before he had time to assimilate his feelings, she surprised him again. His horse curved his neck toward Nivea and nudged her hand. Instead of drawing away, she turned to pet his muzzle. “Hello there, handsome,” she cooed, “did you have a nice run today?”