Kathryn Smith (36 page)

She smiled slightly. “I believe so.”

“And Devlin?”

As much as she might like to assure Carny his friend would forgive him, it was something she couldn’t give. No one could but Devlin himself. “You will have to ask him.”

“Yes.” This time he actually stood. “I will.”

He crossed to the door, stopping and turning in the open doorway—she hadn’t been able to close herself in with him a second time.

“I truly am sorry for any harm I may have caused you, Blythe. You are one of the people in my life whom I would never wish to hurt.”

She nodded. “I know. Promise me it will never happen again?”

“I promise.”

And unlike two years ago when he had made a similar vow, this time Blythe believed him.

“What the hell do you want?”

To his credit, Carny didn’t even flinch at the rancor in Devlin’s tone. Then again, how intimidating could he possibly be, propped up against a mound of fluffy white pillows, nothing covering his nakedness save for a few blankets?

The smaller man closed the door behind him. “I know you probably won’t believe me and you certainly don’t have to accept it, but I have come to apologize.”

Devlin scowled. “Shouldn’t you be apologizing to my wife?”

Carny folded his hands in front of him. “I already did.”

Alone? Had Blythe been frightened to be in the same room with him? If he hadn’t been stupid enough to get himself sick he could have been there with her, assuring her that she was safe. But he hadn’t been, and one of the things he was learning from Blythe was that you couldn’t change the past. You could only learn from it.

He pushed himself further upright. “And?”

“She accepted it.”

Why didn’t that surprise him? “She’s much nicer than I am.”

Carny actually smiled. “She does not hit as hard either.”

Devlin’s gaze fell on Carny’s nose. Only now did he notice the swelling and bruising. There was a part of him that felt guilt at the sight. Another part felt a bizarre sense of pride and accomplishment. He had hurt him. Good. He deserved it for the hurt he’d almost done to Blythe. She’d tried to be his friend, trusted him, and he’d returned it by trying to violate her.

The memory of the scene was enough to fuel Devlin’s anger. He didn’t want to forgive the son of a bitch, not yet. “You tried to rape her.”

Carny’s smile faded at Devlin’s harsh reminder. “I do not remember.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Perhaps he was being unduly cold, but he could not bring himself to feel sorry for Carny.
There was no excuse for what he tried to do to Blythe, but if she could forgive him, then he would try to as well.

As he folded his arms across his chest in a protective gesture, the effort to keep from becoming emotional showed clearly on Carny’s face. “I care very much for Blythe. I would never want to hurt her.”

“But you did. Maybe not physically, but you hurt her.”

Carny nodded, his expression glum. “I know.”

“I wanted to kill you that day,” he admitted. “The only thing that kept you alive was her mercy.”

Another nod.

“Never let it happen again.”

“It won’t.” Carny laughed bitterly. “A hell of a thanks from a man whose life you saved, eh?”

Devlin shrugged. “It would be if you had thought of me while doing it, but I suspect that if you had thought of me, you might have thought better of touching Blythe.”

Carny’s fingers went to his nose. He smiled faintly. “Perhaps.”

But there was no perhaps about it, Devlin knew that. If Carny had been capable of rational thought, he never would have acted as he did. He might have thought it—which was almost as disturbing—but he wouldn’t have done it.

“I can forgive you because we’ve all done things we regret, but I’m not sure I can ever forget it.”

Carny’s expression tightened as he swallowed. Perhaps it was just as well that he didn’t remember what he had done; he certainly seemed to be suffering enough without it. Still, Devlin would be lying if he didn’t admit to wishing his friend’s suffering was tenfold.

“I know I wouldn’t forget it if the situation was reversed,” he replied.

So there, they understood each other. Their gazes locked and held, and Devlin saw real remorse and regret in the other man’s eyes.

“It’s going to be a while before things are as they once were.” Hell, things hadn’t been the same between them since Waterloo. The difference was that now there would be tension not only between himself and Carny, but between Carny and Blythe. Miles and Varya would be a long time rallying around him again as well. This mistake was something Carny would have to live with for the rest of his life, just as Devlin had to live with his.

Perhaps it would become easier for Carny someday as it was becoming for him—but not too soon, he hoped.

“I understand.”

Devlin allowed himself a small smile. It wasn’t up to him to determine how long Carny suffered. “But I expect that whelp of yours to call me ‘Uncle,’ understand?”

Carny’s face brightened. “Of course. I’ll send him to you to learn how to shoot.”

“You’ll have to. He sure as hell won’t learn from you.”

It felt odd, joking with Carny when there was still resentment toward him in his heart, but it was what Blythe would want, and Devlin had a sneaky suspicion that forgiving himself his own sins would be much easier once he learned to forgive other people for theirs. No doubt Carny would continue to punish himself for his transgression long after everyone else had stopped.

“Have you seen Miles?” he asked, wondering if Blythe’s brother had forgiven him as well.

“Yes. He was angry, but we managed to patch things up. Blythe is very fortunate to have the two of you looking out for her.”

“I’m the lucky one to have her.”

Carny regarded him closely. “You truly love her, don’t you?”

Devlin did not respond, but apparently Carny took his silence as all the answer he needed.

“The two of you deserve one another. She should be loved by someone who means it.”

His words struck hard in Devlin’s chest. All this time wondering if he deserved Blythe, and he never once thought that maybe she deserved him as well. It hadn’t occurred to him that he might have something to offer her, but he did. He was the man to love her as she deserved to be loved.

And that meant no more avoiding his feelings, no more hiding and running away whenever it seemed that things might become heated between them. Being married meant disagreeing sometimes, and occasionally driving each other to distraction.

He would rather have Blythe drive him anywhere she wanted than run there alone.

One thing was for certain, she’d run away from him if she could smell him right now.

“Do me a favor, Carnover,” he said, tossing back the covers. “Make yourself useful and ring for a bath, will you?”

Smiling, Carny turned to do just that. Devlin threw his legs over the side of the bed and stood. Carny handed him his robe to save him having to get it himself. He wasn’t as weak as he suspected. His legs hardly shook at all. Nothing a good, big meal couldn’t fix.

Carny left when the bathwater arrived. The tension between them was definitely thinner than it had been when he arrived. Perhaps it was time for a fresh start. God knew they could both use one.

But first he needed to be clean.

Entering the dressing room just off the bedchamber, Devlin removed his robe and draped it over a chair. Then he lowered himself into the tub of steaming water, shivering and sighing as he did so. Lord, it felt good.

He soaked for a while, enjoying the soothing heat of the bath. Then, using both a cloth and a stiff brush with Blythe’s sandalwood-scented soap, he scrubbed at his skin until it glowed pink. No part of him was ignored—not even his elbows or the skin between his toes. By the time he was done he felt like a new man.

Water ran down his body in rivulets as he stood, the evening air hitting his flesh with a slight chill. He toweled off briskly and slipped back into his robe, the soft velvet warming him. He padded back to the bedroom with every intention of dressing for dinner and joining Blythe in the dining room. Afterward, he’d apologize for being such an idiot, and maybe she’d allow him to make love to her. It felt like forever since he’d held her rather than just a few days.

There was a knock and the door opened. Speak of the angel.

She was already dressed for dinner—very well dressed in fact. She didn’t normally get so fancy for their dinners alone, knowing that he preferred her comfortable over fashionable.

She looked surprised to see him. “You are up.”

He smiled. Face to face with her he wasn’t quite as confident as he had been a few moments ago. “I just had a bath. I thought I’d dress and join you for dinner.” He spied the tray in her hands. “Or have you come to join me?”

Twin spots of color bloomed high on her cheeks. “Actually, I have been invited to Wynter Lane for dinner.”

His heart deflated a little. “Oh.” She was going out. Leaving him.

“I thought you would still be abed,” she explained, turning even redder. “If you want to dress and come with me, I’m sure Miles and Varya won’t mind. Or I can stay and we can dine together here if you want.”

Devlin shook his head, taking the tray from her. He wanted to beg her not to go, certain that she would not return. He was such a coward. “I’m feeling somewhat tired. I’ll have my dinner and take a nap. Wake me when you get home?”

She swallowed and nodded, her gaze locked with his. In her eyes he saw the same uncertainty he felt swimming in his chest. Good Lord, had he already lost her?

“I will not be away long,” she promised, backing toward the door. Then, as though she had just thought of it, she came
to him and kissed him swiftly on the lips. “Have a good night.”

Devlin’s heart went with her as she left. Taking the tray to the bed, he tried to read as he picked at a supper of cold meats, bread, and cheese. Then he put tray and book aside and waited.

Waited for Blythe to return—wondering if she would.

It was late when Blythe returned from Wynter Lane. She’d left as soon as she was able so she could keep her promise to Devlin.

She should have stayed home with him. She had wanted to, but then he told her to go and part of her was desperate to get out of the house, and another foolish part had thought maybe he didn’t want her to stay with him, but that went away the minute she entered the carriage. Of course he wanted her around. He loved her.

It didn’t matter now. She was home and they could finally talk. It felt as if he had been away for a week rather than sick just a few days. She wanted to know what he and Carny talked about, wanted to tell him how worried she’d been about him. Wanted to tell him she loved him and finally hear him say it in return, because that was really all that mattered.

He was asleep when she entered the bedroom. A candle, burned down to its stub, flickered on the bedside table; his supper tray and a book lay beside him. Quietly, she removed them both from the bed and went to the vanity to take down her hair. She didn’t bother to ring for Suki.

Devlin didn’t wake as she took the pins from her topknot and brushed her hair. He was the oddest sleeper of anyone she knew. There were some things he could sleep through as though he were dead, such as a ruckus outside or thunder, but if she dropped a pin, or stepped too hard, or if the door latch happened to click, he would instantly awake.

She undressed in silence, and for the first time since he’d
fallen ill, crawled into bed with him. The maids had made the bed up clean, she noticed as she slipped beneath the sheets. They must have done that while he took his bath.

The candle sputtered and spatted. She didn’t bother to snuff it—it was almost to the end of its wick and would extinguish itself soon enough.

Snuggling her back to his front, Blythe closed her eyes and let the warmth of him seep through her thin nightgown into her flesh. How good it felt to be this close to him again. She had missed it so, and had slept poorly these last two nights because of it.

But sleep wasn’t elusive tonight. Within minutes of the candle flickering its last, Blythe fell into a deep, peaceful slumber.

It was sometime later when she awoke, feeling as though something wasn’t quite right. The murky hours before twilight were upon them, making it difficult, but not impossible to see.

Rolling her head to the side, she realized what it was that had woken her. Devlin lay beside her, his head propped in one hand, watching her. Only he knew how long he’d been doing so.

“You were supposed to wake me when you came home,” he reminded her softly.

Blythe stifled a yawn. “You looked so peaceful I did not want to disturb you. You need your sleep.”

“What I need is you.”

Her whole body shivered at the words.

“Do you still love me?”

Smiling tenderly, she lifted a hand to his cheek. He’d shaved earlier, and his skin was satiny smooth. “Of course I do. How long do I have to keep telling you that before you believe it?”

“Forever.”

“I had better get used to it then.” It wouldn’t take forever,
she knew that. It might take a while, however, and she was more than prepared to accept that. It wasn’t that he doubted her; he just wasn’t used to having love offered to him. Eventually he would learn to trust it. She wouldn’t give him any other choice.

Rolling toward him, she propped herself up on her elbow and placed her other palm against his chest, right above his heart, feeling its steady rhythm against her skin.

“Devlin, you know I never did anything to encourage Carny that day, do you not?”

He caught her hand in his own, holding it against the hairy warmth of his chest. “Yes.” He hesitated a moment, as though wondering whether to tell her something. “When I saw him kissing you, I wanted to kill him.”

“I wanted to kill him too,” she replied lightly, but she knew what he meant. He had literally, truly, wanted to kill his friend for assaulting her. Did he expect her to damn or turn her back on him for such feelings? If the situation had been reversed, she would have wanted to kill whoever dared try to harm him.