Forget Me Not Page 25

  Their gazes met Brian’s eyes full and sparkling with promise, but Lydia knew it was not the promise she longed to hear. “Aye, as ye asked me to do earlier this very day.”

  “But, you don’t want to marry me?” she said slowly, the words not so much a question as a statement. She drew away from him. He reached for her but she evaded him, perching at the edge of the bed, angling away so he would not see the glitter of tears.

  Brian sighed, the sound heavy… sad. “It does not matter what I want, Lydia.” He rose on an elbow, placing a hand at her wrist. Heat radiated from the gentle touch, reaching for her heart but a hollow formed around the organ, making it impossible. “Now, I realize our relationship won’t be perfect. We’ll not be husband and wife or have ten beautiful children, but it’s the way of the British aristocracy. I guarantee near every titled match in England is miserably married, but having blissful affairs.”

  Lydia stared down at her trembling hands. “How can you ask me to be your mistress, to slum with you, when I have begged you to take me as a wife?” Convulsively she swallowed back a sob. “Do you think I am the type of woman to forsake the man I marry? To spit in the faces of the children I will have?”

  “It is the only way we can be together, Lydia. Do ye not see that?”

  “No, I don’t see it. I fail to see any of your logic. Explain to me why we can’t get married. Why can we not elope? I realize you cannot ask my father for my hand and that there will be repercussions for leaving a peer standing at the altar, but we can overcome it. We can leave.”

  Brian scoffed. “Is that really what ye want? To never show your face in polite society again?”

  “We can leave, Brian. Leave and start over. Away from all of the rules and judgment,” she reasoned.

  “And what of yer father? The scandal would ruin him.”

  Lydia pursed her lips. Sir William was a formidable man, if anyone could overcome scandal it was he.

  “Stop livin’ in a dream world, Lydia. Sir William would never forgive you fer an elopement and I’ll not see ye lose yer father’s good favor. He loves you.”

  “He has a funny way of showing it. Do you not see that I am nothing but my father’s pawn? I don’t want to marry the viscount, but a prolonged affair with you is not an option regardless of what the rest of the aristocracy does. I will not be one of those women, Brian Donnelly. Once I am married, be it to Northbridge or to you, my loyalty and my body will belong to my husband.”

  “And what of yer heart, love? Can ye deny yer heart all those lonely years or will ye long for me to touch you again?” Brian snaked an arm about her waist, sweeping her alongside him and bearing his mouth down to brand her with a searing kiss. Gentle fingers caressed the column of her throat as his soft lips trailed lower.

  Lydia had dreamed of this… longed to be in his arms for so long she couldn’t quite bring herself to push him away. One more kiss… one more stolen moment… one last memory… Why could he not see how perfect this was? Did he not feel the enchantment? How easy it would be to be drawn in... forever…

  “Bastard!” She shoved with all her strength against him, scrambling off the bed. “You,” she seethed, stabbing a finger in his direction, “are not the man I thought I loved. The man I loved would never be so callous.” She was shouting, nearly out of control with hurt and rage. She trembled with such force her legs threatened to buckle. Lydia had just enough presence of mind to pause and force her voice down an octave else Olivia come barreling back down the hall. She drew a ragged, cleansing breath, holding it deep in her lungs. She speared Brian with a murderous glare, and the man had good sense enough to look sufficiently unnerved. “What about any children we might have? There could already be a child.” Lydia clutched her abdomen, sick with the thought, but plunged ahead. “Would you leave that child, your child, to be raised by Lord Northbridge? Could you really live with that?”

  Brian swung his legs to the edge of the bed, sat, and looked her dead in the eye, expression hard. “Yes,” the word was slow, deliberate, and spoken with absolute conviction. “Yes, I could.”

  Lydia stumbled back a step, horrified. “But… why?”

  “Because that child—” He leapt to his feet in a manner that could almost be termed predatory, a palpable anger emanating from his body. His gaze flicked to her abdomen a spark of emotion—something she could not quite identify—lighting his eyes, glowing from within. It occurred to her suddenly that the secrets ever lurking in the depths of his eyes were not secrets at all but scars... Through his eyes she could see the wounds of his soul. “That child,” his expression grew soft, his voice hoarse, his gaze remained fixed on her stomach, “will never be left alone should anything happen to you or me. That child will always be provided for.”

  Lydia inhaled sharply as a resounding chord of clarity rang through her mind. “So that is what all of this is about. Why you reject me. I understand,” she said plainly, taking a tentative step toward him. Lydia looked him square in the eye, her gaze searching burning, perhaps even yearning as she delved through his eyes into his very soul, hunting the demons he sought to repress.

  “You could never understand,” Brian rasped, standing rigid beside the bed as she continued advancing on him.

  “Oh, but I do.” Not two feet from him she stopped, gaze never wavering from his. “I see now what you’re afraid of. You lost your family, everyone you’ve ever loved, and now you’re terrified to open your heart again.”

  The blood drained from Brian’s face until he resembled a marble statue. She’d struck close to home—or more accurately, his heart—indeed.

  “You claim to love me, but,” Lydia shook her head, “you, Brian Donnelly, do not know what love is. Love is sacrifice. Love is work. And love is blind to the size of a home or any material possessions. Now, I see that you are terrified of falling in love and committing to another person because you don’t want it all taken away again. I’m sorry you lost your family, Brian, but it is time to move past it. Time and again I have watched you risk your life for others, for me. I thought you the bravest man I’d ever met, but it is not brave to risk yourself when there is nothing to lose. You have nothing to lose but the shirt on your back or the money hidden in your boot. Life is full of risks. Love is a risk. I, for one, am willing to risk for you.” Lydia took the final step toward him, standing directly before him, challenging him to deny the living breathing magic between them. Loving him was as real and natural as the air, and she knew to the depths of her soul he felt it too. She existed to love this man… to complete him. Slowly she extended a hand offering him… the world.

  The moment hung perfect and silent for the space of a breath. Neither dared breathe. Brian’s smoldering gaze slid from her fingers, outstretched in invitation, to her eyes. The air crackled between them, a living entity all its own.

  Lydia stared into Brian’s eyes and could have cried for all that she saw in the green depths. For the first time in their acquaintance his soul was entirely bared to her… She could see the damage of every loss and heartache he’d known in life. Disappointment and regret poured from his eyes, and through his eyes, into his soul—or perhaps his heart—she saw the little boy that had never been… never had the chance to live or grow or even laugh. It quite simply broke her heart and if she’d believed she loved him before, she was not prepared for the sudden, intense deepening of the emotion. For the first time she knew him. She’d always loved him, but before this exact second she’d never understood why he so fervently held himself back.

  “Let me help you, Brian,” she murmured, wanting nothing more than to wipe the pain from his slate, start anew. “It’s time to let go all the memories you’ve held onto. Give me your past. Let me take it from you,” she finished in the barest whisper. Searching his face Lydia knew no words could portray all he needed to know. Closing the distance between them she wrapped her arms around his powerful shoulders, pulling him into her.

  He crumbled.

  His face fell to the curve o
f her neck, his hands buried in the depths of her hair, and his shoulders rolled forward… enveloping her. The surrender was evident in every fiber of his body. Brian released one long shuddering breath, clinging to her in what could only be desperation. “Oh, Lydia,” he choked. “My lovely, perfect, Lydia. If only it were as easy as you make it sound.”

  Crash!

  Lydia and Brian started as one. The door exploded inward, slamming into the wall with such force a shower of plaster peppered the carpet, revealing an enraged Olivia and… Sir William.

  Red hot mortification seized Lydia, and she pulled out of Brian’s arms. “How did you get in here?”

  “I knew it!” Olivia shrieked, the master Skeleton key clutched in her fingers. “You see, William, I warned you this would happen.”

  “Lydia, how could you?” Her father’s gaze locked with hers, a mixture of disappointment, pain, and disbelief glistening in his eyes. “What would your mother think if she saw you now?”

  She gasped. A vision of her mother laughing, hazel green eyes flashing with joy, merriment and motherly pride, flickered in her mind. No words could have cut her more deeply. For the briefest instant the surest sense of letting her parents down, failing to meet their expectations pierced Lydia, and a piece of her heart… fell. “Papa—”

  “Do not bat your pretty little eyes and Papa me, young lady.” Disbelief morphed to disillusionment and finally boiling rage in his eyes.

  Lydia gulped. Dread thickened and solidified squarely in her middle. She glanced to Brian’s standing motionless behind her.

  “General, I’m sorry,” Brian said humbly.

  “You son of a bitch.” Her father’s menacing glare locked on Brian as he took one long step into the room fists clenched, face black with rage. “To think I trusted you, Donnelly.”

  Thwack.

  Her father’s meaty fist made sharp contact with Brian’s jaw. “Bloody hell.” Brian stumbled backward, holding out a palm.

  “Papa, no!” Lydia cried, rushing forward to protect Brian, he was far too honorable to defend himself from her father’s tirade given the present circumstances. “Don’t hurt him.”

  “Hurt him?” Sir William brushed Lydia aside. “I’ll murder the bloody bastard.”

  A second crushing blow slammed into the side of Brian’s head. He sprawled to the floor at Lydia’s feet. Brian groaned, wiping a smear of blood from the corner of his lip. “Sir William, please—”

  “Shut the hell up, Donnelly.” Her father drew a long bladed hunting knife from the back of his black trousers, pointing the weapon squarely on Brian’s chest.

  Horrified, Lydia dropped to her knees over Brian, shielding him from further attack. “Stop this madness, please. All of this is my fault. Do not blame Brian.”

  A resigned gleam lit Brian’s eye as he swept Lydia aside and dragged himself to his feet, squaring off with Sir William. “That’s not true, lass, and yer father knows it. I’m prepared to answer fer me sins.”

  Lydia knew her father’s menacing expression all too well, and feared imminent disaster. Desperate, Lydia scrambled between Brian and her father. “Brian, get out of here.”

  “I’m no coward, lass.”

  Her father circled Brian with the patience of a cat about to pounce. The thought of him suffering further harm as a result of her was unbearable. “Now, Brian. Go. You’re making this worse. I can handle my parents.”

  For half a second she thought he would refuse again, stand and face her father. Their eyes locked, regret and apology brimming in Brian’s eyes. “I’m sorry, lass,” he whispered, and, quick as lightening, ducked his head, and dashed past Olivia through the door.

  “Coward,” Sir William bellowed, chasing after Brian, weapon at the ready. “Hiding behind a woman’s skirts. Get back here, Donnelly. Face me like a man.”

  “Papa, don’t do this,” Lydia begged rushing forward. “You don’t want to hurt him.”

  “Don’t I?” Sir William stopped outside the door, hauled his arm back and prepared to throw the knife at Brian’s rapidly departing back.

  Sheer terror seared Lydia. “No!” She threw herself into her father’s side, knocking him off balance.

  The blade slipped from his hand, hurtling through the air, and slamming into the wall just above Brian’s right shoulder a split second before he disappeared around the corner.

  “I cannot believe you did that!” Lydia cried, raking a horrified glare the length of her father. “What were you thinking?”

  “To kill the miserable horse’s ass,” Sir William grumbled, stalking forward to yank the knife from the wall.

  “Your father is saving you from yourself, Lydia,” Olivia clipped. “To be stabbed in the back is better than that Irishman deserves after dallying with the daughter of his betters.”

  “His betters?” Anger flashed through Lydia. “There is no man better than Brian Donnelly, rest assured of that. I owe my life to him.”

  “Get back in your room,” Sir William barked, slashing an arm through the air.

  Lydia flinched, jerking back a few steps.

  Slowly her father advanced on her. Pure rage roiled beneath a too calm exterior. Olivia followed off his left flank, a superior leer adorning her face.

  The breath froze in Lydia’s throat. Her father was a formidable man, she’d seen him angry—been the cause of his anger—on scores of occasions, but never before this moment had she been frightened of him.

  “Mark my words, Lydia,” Sir William growled, “you are never to see that man again. If you so much as utter the name Brian Donnelly you will regret it.”

  The small kernel of hope her father would insist she and Brian marry died a swift—if excruciating—death. Lydia steeled her courage and lifted her chin in open defiance. “I will not marry, Lord Northbridge.”

  “The devil you say!” A hand fluttered dramatically to Olivia’s breast. “She will ruin everything, William. Everything! You must stop her.”

  Sir William did not so much as glance at his wife. Hellfire burned in his gaze, chilling Lydia to the bone, but she refused to budge.

  “I will not be a pawn for your political games any longer. I would sooner die a miserable old maid than marry the viscount.” She looked directly into Olivia’s murderous glare.

  Brutally Sir William grasped her chin, forcing her to meet his hard gaze. “You will marry Northbridge or so help me God I’ll have Donnelly deported on the next prison ship.”

  She gasped, wrenching from his grasp. “You wouldn’t.”

  Her father sneered. “Prison colonies are a fate worse than death, my dear. I’ve seen them. I know.”

  A vision of Brian starving and beaten within an inch of his life wove hauntingly through her mind, dampening her heart and soul. Lydia pressed her palms to her forehead, shaking her head in denial.

  “And what of the little brat you brought home? What shall become of him if you choose not to marry Lord Northbridge?”

  “Brandon?” Lydia snapped to attention. “Leave him out of this. He is of no concern in this matter.”

  Sir William stroked a lazy finger the length of his jaw. “London is teeming with orphanages and workhouses, placing the filthy bastard shouldn’t be any problem.”

  “No, Papa! You can’t,” she begged, grasping his arm, imploring him with her eyes. “You wouldn’t. I swore to Brandon I wouldn’t let that happen, that I would protect him.”

  A bark of cruel laughter escaped her father. “Never make promises you cannot keep, Lydia. Have I taught you nothing of importance and respectability?”

  “You have taught me nothing but selfishness and bitterness.”

  “Then I’ve taught you the truths of life,” he said with a curt nod.

  Silence lapsed, and only the drone of the rain broke the tension.

  “Should you persist in refusing to marry Northbridge I can’t stop you, but...” Sir William held up a single finger. “Bear in mind that no matter where Donnelly runs I have the means and intent to find him.�
�� His eyes narrowed. “There are men of my acquaintance who make Felix Keith appear mild as a milk faced governess. If you defy me Brian Donnelly is as good as a dead man, and I’ll bury your brat in an orphanage or hire him out to a sweep for pennies.”

  Anguish carved a torturous path through Lydia’s soul. Never in her life had she felt more utterly helpless.

  Sir William strode to the door, plucking the key she kept inside her room from the floor, and motioning Olivia to leave the room.

  “Answer me one thing, Father.”

  “Yes.” He paused in the doorway without looking back at Lydia.

  “When I was lost last week, did you worry for me or only the loss of the Northbridge title?”

  Her father’s gaze settled hard upon her. “Believe it or not, Lydia, all I want is what’s best for you.”

  “Then why have you never asked me what is best?”

  “Do not try to leave,” he said crisply. “I’ll have guards posted outside your door until you come around to my way of thinking.”

  The door closed with resounding finality. Lydia stared at the portal for a full minute, dumbfounded by all that had occurred in the last minutes, heart shattered. All her efforts to carve a life of love and happiness had been for naught. She’d fallen flat on her face and landed in the same place she’d begun, this time sheering the already tenuous relationship with her parents. Brian was right. Every moment of happiness—no matter how brief—came with a steep price. Brian had come to her, given her one sweet memory of true love to treasure and carry with her, and now she must pay the piper. It was done. Sir William had won. The only real choice she had was to protect Brian and Brandon, those she loved. She would marry Lord Northbridge.

  Lightning flashed ominously. Lydia shivered, wrapping her arms around herself.

  The face of her Irish knight stared up at her from the sketchbook. She knelt to lift the volume and heaved it across the room, knocking over an ancient porcelain vase in the process. “Blast it all. Can nothing go right?” She stumbled to the broken shards, dropping to her knees to clean the mess. A sharp edge sliced the pad of her right pointer finger.