Page 26 of A Dream of Redemption
Clarity struck through her pounding heart. She wanted him to be hers. This was who fate had sent her. She wanted him to love her enough to withstand whatever punishment society threw at them. She suddenly did not care about titles, money, or what her brother would say. For the first time ever, she wished she was simply a young woman, and not the daughter of a marquis.
She knew in her heart what she would have to give up to forge her claim. To make him hers. And she did not care. He stole her breath, held her mind and senses captive.
If the kiss had taught her anything it was that she had been right the other night. They were good together. They had interests in common. Both of them wanted to do more for those less fortunate than themselves. He was the first man who stirred her soul and with whom she could see a future with—family, children.
He was her fate. The man meant for her. Now all she had to do was show him that nothing could stand in the way of their happiness.
Oh, thetonwould be shocked; they would likely ostracize her and rebuff him, but she’d never cared for theton. She was more worried about her family. But she knew Maitland and her brother were powerful, surely they could deal with the scandal. It helped having a duke in the family, and a brother who was a marquis.
If she tried to tell him that she didn’t care that she would no longer be accepted in society, or tried to push him to come to the conclusion that society didn’t matter, she’d lose him. Trying to seduce a man who held honor so close to his chest was a mistake. He would never do anything to dishonor her or the life and employment Marisa had given him. Helen would have to find another way.
She gently pushed at his chest and made him lie back. “Sleep,” she whispered and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead.
She almost laughed at his look of confusion and then relief. This was not over. Would never be over if she could help it.
She might have retreated but the war was far from lost.
He closed his eyes on a sigh, and she wanted to reach out and stroke the dark stubble on his cheek but knew she’d pushed him as far as she could tonight.
She settled into the chair by Clary’s bed and picked up her novel. It was a story by her favorite author, Jane Austen. Helen had read a lot of Miss Austen’s works without knowing it. Her previous books had always been published anonymously, simply noted asBy a Lady. However, Helen’s version ofPersuasion,purchased by Sebastian as a birthday gift last year, had a note from Miss Austen’s family declaring the author’s identity. Helen was most upset to learn Miss Austen died a few years ago. She was very talented and she envied Miss Austen’s ability to write stories.
She read the words out loud with no idea if Clary could hear, but the sound of her voice seemed to calm him. She did note the irony of the story. It was about a young girl who fell in love with a man her parents did not think worthy.
She stopped reading and looked at Clary. She knew Marisa and Sebastian would likely have a fit at any suggestion of an attachment, but something drew her to Clary, and it wasn’t just his looks.
She sensed a deep sadness in him and he was so contained. Her parents had openly warred. Jealousy caused bitter fighting and screaming in her house, and as a young girl she’d often tried to hide from the storms around her. She’d longed for quietness. She’d wanted her parents to be more contained.
Yet, having met Clary, she now knew there was such a thing as too contained. Clary rarely smiled. She’d never heard him raise his voice in anger or in joy either. It was almost as if he’d shut off all of his emotions and that couldn’t be good for you. What did he live for? Without joy or love what else was there?
She’d read for a little over an hour when suddenly Clary let out a low moan. Helen immediately put the book down and pressed her hand to his forehead. His skin felt clammy but not hot.
He took a shuddering breath, so she sank onto the edge of the bed and stroked his handsome face, telling him to sleep. He stilled beneath her hands and she kept stroking, singing softly to him, a song she remembered her mother singing to her when she was very young. It was one of the only happy memories she had of her mother.
His distressed breathing lessened, and it alerted her to the fact he was awake. His eyes were open and staring at her with almost reverence. She made to rise but he laid his hand on her arm and said, “Keep singing.”
She hesitated but kept singing although she kept her hands in her lap. He stayed staring at her while she sang. When she finished he whispered, “You have the voice of an angel.”
Flustered she asked the first thing that came to mind. “Do you need something for the pain?”
“No. Just looking at you, knowing I cannot have you, is more painful than this wound.”
She had to ask even though she knew it would be a mistake. “We could be together if you’d fight for me as I would fight for you.”
He stilled and his eyes closed. “Go home to your family tomorrow and don’t come back.”
His words were blunt and sounded full of defeat.
“I am leaving in the morning but this orphanage and the children in it are too important for our—for our personal feelings—for me to walk away. Marisa was correct about one thing. This experience has changed me. It’s shown me what I want to do with my life, and I intend to do it.”
“Fine, as long as we remember our places in this world.”
“The Bible says that all men are created equal. Do we not all bleed, cry, love, breathe? As far as I’m concerned it’s man who has created inequality.”
“There is no God, he’s an illusion created to try and get us through the harsh realities of life. I’m perfectly fine to look after myself for the rest of the night. Go back to your room and get some sleep before you leave. I should have insisted you leave yesterday.”
Again, he was calm and serious. No emotion in those words and it annoyed her. For once she wanted to see some kind of reaction from him. “If there is nothing between us, why is having me here so terrible?”
“Because you make me think I’m a better man than I am.” He briefly closed his eyes. “What of your reputation? If it were known you were staying here, you’d be, if not ruined, at least the subject of gossip. Her Grace would blame me for allowing that to happen.”
