The Devil's Love (51 page)

of her in his arms, the sweet, tentative response to him had been his undoing.

He had wanted so badly to prove how much he loved her. He had wanted to sink

between those soft white thighs and see her eyes pool with desire. He had wanted

to hold her close to him, to heal her. But he had not been prepared for the enormity of what just happened. She had come to hurt him, and in her time of

need, she had turned to him for comfort, the one person who had hurt her deeply.

She had literally clung to him.

Michael moaned and threw his arm over his eyes. She would forgive him, if he had

to die convincing her. He needed her too badly. He loved her too much.

She was

more important than the air he breathed, and he’d be damned if he would let her

walk out of his life.

Not without a fight.

In all the years Sam had known Michael, he had never seen him so distraught. Not

when his sister had been ruined, not when his mother had died, not even the many

times his father had disgraced the family name. He watched Michael

pacing the

library like a caged animal, glaring madly at Galen Carrey, who stood calmly at

one end of the room.

He had known there was a risk in bringing Carrey here. But the man had, after

all, confessed, had warned Michael about Routier, and, in the end, had killed

the bastard. In the weeks since then Sam and Alex had kept him hidden until he

could safely leave England, and Sam had softened toward Carrey. He was a young

fool, there was no getting around that, and had been led astray, too easily, by

Routier. But Sam suspected the young man would pay every day of his life, for

the rest of his life, for what he had done. And apologizing to Abbey would not

ease that torment, no matter how much Carrey hoped it would.

“She is walking the grounds just now,” Sam heard Michael say, and forced his

attention back to his friend.

“Thank you, my lord. After I have seen her, I will leave immediately for Portsmouth.”

Michael paused in his pacing and eyed Carrey suspiciously. “What are your

plans?” he asked slowly.

“I am off to the West Indies. I know a captain of a merchant vessel who might

take on an old hand.”

“I am sure your cousin will want to hear from you from time to time,”

Michael

muttered.

Carrey arched a brow in surprise. “Then I will oblige her with an occasional letter,” he said carefully.

Michael’s gaze flicked over him once again, and he turned his back. “Ask Withers. He’ll know exactly where she is,” he muttered. Carrey shifted a glance

to Sam, who nodded, then, without another word, he slipped out through the open

doors onto the terrace.

“It was the right thing to do, Michael,” Sam offered.

“I doubt it,” he muttered. “But it’s important to her.”

“You might be interested to know I have not heard a single word about the Darfields, other than an outpouring of sympathy for what you must have endured

at the hands of Routier,” Sam offered.

Michael’s gaze slashed across Sam. “You are quite certain?” he asked, a faint

tinge of hope evident in his voice.

“Everyone claims to have known that Routier was a scoundrel.”

“They knew the truth all along, did they?” Michael muttered sarcastically, and

sank into a leather chair. A moment of silence lapsed between them.

“How is Abbey?” Sam asked slowly.

Michael shrugged hopelessly. “Physically? Quite recovered. Emotionally?

Terribly

distant. Avoids me like death. Seems to think I live by a double standard.”

Sam smiled wryly at Michael, who was staring blankly into space. “Be patient

awhile longer. I know Abbey loves you, as sure as I stand before you. Just wait

for her.”

Michael snorted. “Unfortunately, I think I shall wait for the rest of my life.”

Just as Withers had said, Abbey was at the ruins. Galen rode to the distant

fortress, and when the pile of stones came into view, he could see Abbey standing high atop a mound of rubble that had once been a tower. He reined to a

halt at the skirt of the old castle and waved; she did not return his greeting,

but peered down at him with a dark frown. A crippled dog, however, roused himself from his nap in the sun and hobbled forward to greet him. Galen slid

from his horse and reached down to pet the hound. With a sigh, he straightened,

and using a gloved hand to shield the sun, looked up.

“Abbey, it doesn’t look quite safe up there!” he called. She responded by turning her back on him. Grumbling, Galen picked his way through rocks that had

fallen through the centuries until he stood just below her mound of rubble.

“I know you don’t want to speak with me, but I do wish you’d come down from

there. If you should fall—”

“So what if I do?” she called down.

“Self-pity does not become you,” Galen chided her.

“Do not presume to lecture me, sir,” she said icily, but nonetheless began to

climb down the mound of rocks. Galen watched as she picked her way down, coming

to her side to help her the last few feet. She ignored his outstretched hand and

jumped to the ground. She dusted her hands against her black skirt and adjusted

her hideous hat before peering up at him.

“How did you get here? I am rather surprised Darfield would allow it,” she said

acidly. “Assuming, of course, he knows about it, or are we meeting behind his

back again?”

Galen clasped his hands behind his back and gave her a disapproving frown. “I

assure you he is very much aware of my presence. I have come to apologize,

little one.”

“I suppose, like Darfield, you think I should curtsey politely and tell you all is forgiven.”

“I do not expect you to do a blasted thing except extend me the common courtesy

of at least listening to me,” he said.

Abbey shrugged indifferently and began to walk toward what had once been the

inner bailey.

Galen fell in beside her. “I know it must be terribly difficult to absorb everything that has happened, but I want you to know I never meant to hurt you.”

Abbey laughed disdainfully. “Indeed? You must have thought I would rejoice in

your deception when it was all over, seeing that you never meant to hurt me.”

“Abbey, I don’t expect you to understand, I hardly do myself. But I could not go

without telling you how terribly sorry I am that I did this to you. I will never be able to forgive myself.”

It was hardly adequate, but it was enough. Abbey sniffed and sat heavily on a

pile of rocks that had been a bench at one time. She was not so wounded that she

could not see how earnest her cousin was in his apology.

“Oh, Galen.” At last she sighed sadly. “I don’t pretend to understand, but I bear you no ill will.”

Galen sat next to her. “That’s exceedingly kind, Abbey, and more than I deserve

or could have hoped for. But for some reason, I have the distinct feeling this

is not about me,” he said softly.

She nodded and cast her gaze to her lap. “You should not have done it.

But in

the end, it didn’t matter what you did, because he never would have believed me.

You see, he saw us at the arbor the day you came, and he asked me who you were.

I told him you were a deckhand and knew Withers. But I didn’t tell him you were

my cousin. From that, he assumed I had lied to him about everything.”

“I see. That was hardly fair of him.”

“It was horribly unfair.”

“Yes, but what choice did he have?” Galen asked softly.

Confused, Abbey peered at him. “He could have believed me, Galen. I never gave

him cause to doubt me.”

“You never gave him any cause, but consider it from his viewpoint. What would

you think?” A pink stain of embarrassment crept into her cheeks, and she turned

away. “You are right, Abbey. He should have believed you. But it is not so unforgivable that he did not, is it? You were not completely truthful. And given

the circumstances that followed, he would have been less than human to not at

least have questioned.”

Abbey’s brow wrinkled with thought. “Even if I did admit there was some logic to

your reasoning, which I have not, the fact of the matter is he did not trust me.

And furthermore, he lied to me, too. He didn’t tell me he knew the doll you brought was a counterfeit. He accused me of cuckolding him when he had just come

from the arms of his lover. I have to ask myself if the affection he professes

is true. Or does he say the same thing to her?”

Galen chuckled, ignoring Abbey’s scowl. He had affection for her, all right.

The

man was absolutely besotted. Abbey mumbled irritably under her breath.

“My apologies, but the man I just left is so tormented by the thought of losing

you that he can barely form a coherent sentence. He paces the library like a

panther, glancing frequently out the window to see if you return. I would wager

the dark circles under his eyes are from many sleepless nights plagued by

thoughts of you.”

She rolled her eyes and stood, then walked slowly to what was left of the curtain wall. Galen followed her, closing the distance between them until he was

standing directly behind her.

“Lord Hunt told me how he cradled your broken body, stood vigil at your bedside,

night after night, praying openly for your health and recovery. I would wager

that was not a man who lied about his affections. As for his lover, I think among the ton, illicit liaisons are the norm. But I also think the man I saw in

the library will never go back to her.”

Abbey’s back went rigid. “How can you be so sure?” she asked softly.

“Because I have it on good authority that Darfield would have given his own life

for yours. He would have infused his own health into you if he could. Sam said

‘He would have brought down the moon and doused the sun’ if that’s what it took

to bring you back to life. He was by no means indifferent, Abbey. He was frantic

at the thought of losing you. A man who feels that strongly about a woman does

not need or want a lover. Little one, men can change. I did, and you can accept

that.”

Abbey glanced uneasily over her shoulder at him.

“Forgive him, Abbey. Forgive him as you forgive me. He deserves it far more than

I do, and I swear to you, he is more than worthy of your esteem.”

Abbey turned to him then and Galen took her into his arms, hugging her tightly.

After a moment, he kissed the top of her head and released her.

“I have said what I came to say. I have permission to write, little one. I am off to the West Indies now, and I’ll let you know if I get a post—a legitimate

post.” He smiled. With an affectionate chuck for her chin, Galen turned on his

heel and left Abbey standing at the old stone wall.

As he swung up on his horse, he was amazed at the tremor in his hands.

His crime

was far, far worse than he had imagined. He, and he alone, had fundamentally

shaken the foundation of trust between two people who truly loved each other.

And for that, he would repent until his dying day.

Abbey remained at the ruins long after Galen left. It was all so confusing!

For

the last few weeks, she had been set upon by a sadness she could not quell.

Something had died inside her, something she was not sure she wanted to

resurrect. Something she was not sure she was capable of resurrecting.

It had been so hard. Michael seemed to be everywhere she was, albeit at a quiet

distance. A part of her despised him, but another part loved him deeply. It was

impossible not to love him. Try as she might, she was losing the battle to push

her feelings for him down to the most remote corner of her soul. He had betrayed

her and had refused to trust her when she needed him to trust her most.

But on

this cloudless day she could not suppress the nagging feeling that Galen was

right. Michael had been hurt so many times before, why wouldn’t he believe this

to be another attempt to defraud or humiliate him?

“Oh, God.” She sighed. The truth was that she did keep Galen from Michael.

Perhaps the time had come for her to take responsibility for her part in what

had happened.

Michael was startled by her appearance in the dining room that evening.

She was

a vision in a velvet and chiffon gown of midnight blue, adorned with small crystal beads that fractured the light when she moved. Her dark mahogany hair

was pulled back and hung in great, silken waves down her back. She looked as

beautiful as he ever remembered.

“I’m glad you decided to join us. Would you like a drink?” he heard himself say.

Abbey smiled demurely, unbalancing him. He did not expect a smile. No, that was

about the last thing he expected.

“A vodka, please,” she said softly. From across the room, Sam was staring at her

over his Madeira and seemed as stunned as Michael felt. Michael inclined his

head toward Anderson, who quietly poured the drink and handed it to him.

His

legs felt like wood as he walked toward her and handed her the glass.

“Thank you,” she said shyly. She glanced up at him through her long lashes and

blushed slightly. Michael was so unsettled by the change in her mien that he

congratulated himself on having handed her the vodka without dropping it.

“Your walk seems to have done you good,” he said, for lack of anything else.

She smiled her perfectly brilliant smile and Michael’s stomach dropped to his