“They suffered a kind of madness. You were only the excuse,” he said slowly, searching for the right words to soothe her pain. “There was something feverish in the air that season. I remember the wildness, the ever more profligate gambling, the unfettered womanizing, the duels to the death. Soraya, with her beauty and her mystery, formed part of it. But nothing she did drove those men to take their lives.”
“They died because of me,” she whispered, hiding her face in his shoulder. “Because of what I was and what I did.”
Kylemore’s covetous soul exulted that he was the one she turned to for comfort.
Then he felt her hot tears against his throat. His greed to be the eternal center of her world faded as bone-deep pity overwhelmed him.
His hold on her tightened. “It’s time to forgive yourself as I’m sure the ghosts of those troubled young men have long ago forgiven you. The suicides were a tragedy and a cruel waste, but they were never your fault.”
“Do you really mean that?” Her hesitant question was a murmur against his chest.
“More than I can say.”
She lay calm and exhausted upon him, fragile in his arms, yet stronger than anyone he knew. He yearned to make extravagant promises, swear eternal fealty, go on his knees and offer her the world on a gold platter.
But he settled for a simple, “Sleep now, mo cridhe. I’ll keep you safe.”
Chapter 20
Verity was still wallowing in a daze of bliss and newly awakened love the next afternoon when she and Kylemore ate a belated meal in the parlor. Giving herself—all of herself—to him had been extraordinarily liberating.
Beneath the lethargy lingering after a night of passion, new self-confidence flowered. For the moment, this extraordinary man’s ardor, intelligence, courage, beauty were utterly hers.
Whatever the future held, nothing could alter what had happened between them. She’d never be the same. Nor would Kylemore.
Eventually, he’d leave to take his rightful place in the great world. But he’d never be free of her.
Never.
The day had started with rain, providing the ideal excuse to detain the duke in bed. Now she contemplated the outrages she meant to perpetrate upon his body when they returned to her room. Which would be soon, she hoped.
She was definitely hungry, but not necessarily for food.
“What is it?” He lifted his hand from where it lay near his plate and reached over the table to play with her fingers.
All morning, he’d touched her like this. The tiny gestures of connection surprised her. He’d always been a vigorous lover, but she’d never otherwise regarded him as a demonstrative man.
He looked across the remains of their luncheon at her. “You’re blushing,” he said smugly.
Smugness was one of his abiding characteristics today. She must be in a bad way indeed to find it charming rather than irritating.
But he wasn’t having everything his own way. “I was thinking how it felt to take you in my mouth this morning,” she said lightly, glancing at him under her lashes. She smiled her own satisfaction as he choked on a mouthful of claret.
Soraya retained her uses, not the least of which was keeping her temperamental lover from complacency.
Still smiling, she took a sip of her own wine and studied the room. A particularly fierce stag glaring at her from the wall captured her attention. “You know,” she said absently, “these decorations always seem out of character. I never pictured you as quite such the swaggering huntsman.”
Although he’d hunted her effectively enough, she admitted, for once without a trace of resentment.
He set his glass down, brought his napkin to his lips and glanced at the funereal décor without interest. “The trophies were my grandfather’s.”
“Don’t you find them oppressive when you visit?”
“I don’t visit. I lived here with my father until I was seven. I haven’t been back since. Unless I’d needed to stash a troublesome mistress, I wouldn’t have returned now.” His expression was guarded as usual when she probed his past.
“It’s certainly inconvenient.” She used a neutral voice.
“It’s a hellhole,” he said flatly. “And no,” he continued when she opened her mouth, “I don’t want to discuss it. Let’s go back to bed.”