For the first time she saw vulnerability in Damien’s shuttered face. Vanessa inhaled a steadying breath. “You may rest assured, I have no desire to have Lord Clune for a lover or protector. Or any of your other friends, for that matter. And most certainly you may ease your conscience. You are not responsible for my actions, or my welfare. There is no need for you to feel the least guilty.”
“It isn’t that simple,” Damien returned through gritted teeth.
“No?” Vanessa paused, her own ire softening. “If my refusal angers you, it’s only because you’ve always been accustomed to having your own way. But some day you will count yourself fortunate to have escaped my clutches.”
For the second time in several days, she turned and walked away from him, this time leaving him alone in the quiet chamber.
With a curse, Damien flung himself into a chair. He was indeed jealous, but jealousy wasn’t the only primal emotion he felt for Vanessa.
Damn her, why did he feel this fever, this desperate hunger only with her?
Damien swore again. He had meant only to seduce her, not cherish and desire her. The devil of it was, he was the one who had been seduced. She had crept beneath his defenses, even as he’d tried to shatter hers. He wanted her until he ached with it.
But wanting her, it seemed, was not enough. For her… or for himself.
Chapter Eighteen
Vanessa stood at the window of her bedchamber, staring blindly down at the rose gardens. Had she made a terrible mistake, refusing Damien’s off
er of marriage?
In the three days since his startling proposal, she’d asked herself that question a hundred times, going over and over every nuance of their conversation, every subtlety of emotion in his expression and tone of voice.
She hadn’t found what she’d longed to see. Not even a hint of love. And without love, a marriage between them would be doomed.
Damien would never be content to settle down with one woman, to give up his life as a rakehell. Love alone might have the power to change him, but he didn’t love her. That was the harsh, bitter truth.
Vanessa let out a deep sigh. Summer was almost at an end. Her term as his mistress was almost over. Then she would be free to go and take her own wounded heart with her. Free to start rebuilding her life. Free to begin the struggle of trying to forget Damien…
A rapid knock on her bedchamber door interrupted her melancholy thoughts. At her bidding, a footman entered, bearing a silver salver.
“Beg pardon, milady, but a carriage has come with this message for you from Lord Clune.”
Vanessa wondered why Clune would be writing to her, unless it involved Damien. Damien had driven to his friends’ hunting box early this morning for some dove shooting…
Curiously Vanessa broke the seal and read:
Lady Wyndham-Do not be alarmed, but I fear Sinclair has met with a minor accident. The doctor has been sent for, but Sin is calling for you. My carriage is at your disposal. I pray you will come shortly.
Panic seized her as she pictured Damien lying wounded, his lifeblood seeping from his body. Her hand went to her throat where her heart had lodged. She couldn’t bear the thought of his death. She couldn’t.
“I must go to him,” she breathed hoarsely.
She had the presence of mind at least to fetch a pelisse and to tell the footman she was going to join Lord Sinclair, before running down the stairs and out the front door to the waiting carriage.
They set a rapid pace, without stopping to change horses. Even so Vanessa deplored the delay. She couldn’t control her dread or the dark images assaulting her. She kept remembering her final view of her husband when they’d brought his body home the morning of the duel. The fatal bullet wound in his chest, the blood… Clune’s message said Damien’s accident was minor, but she couldn’t rest easy until she assured herself that he wasn’t dying.
It was nearly an hour before the carriage turned off the country lane onto a gravel drive flanked by thick woods. Finally they halted before a large manor house. Vanessa scarcely noted the secluded setting as she climbed down from the carriage without assistance.
She nearly ran up the steps to the front entrance, and was supremely grateful when the door swung open to reveal Lord Clune himself.
“Damien, how is he?” she demanded breathlessly.
The smile Clune gave her was reassuring as he drew her into the house. “Well enough, my lady. He is upstairs resting comfortably.”
“May I see him?”
“But, of course.”