The Prince of Pleasure (Notorious 5)

She clenched her fingers more tightly in her lap. She felt raw and exposed under the unwavering intensity of Dare's gaze. "It all happened so quickly. Ivers had just made his threats before you arrived. He said that your grandfather was determined to separate us, that Lord Wolverton would never let our betrothal stand. Then you walked in, and Ivers made that claim about being my lover…"

She took a steadying breath. "I wanted you to believe we were lovers, that I had been unfaithful. I knew you would never let me end our betrothal otherwise."

She closed her eyes, remembering the pain and betrayal on Dare's face. That tormented look had haunted her for years.

"I didn't want to lie to you," she added, her voice low. "I hated that you could think so badly of me. And in my secret heart… I hoped that you would see through his lies and realize that I still loved you. But then Ivers… I was such a naive little fool."

She attempted a self-deprecating laugh, but it stuck in her throat; her laughter was too bitter to release. "I didn't realize what a black-souled villain Ivers truly was. I thought that since I'd done as he demanded- called off our betrothal-he would be satisfied. But that wasn't enough for him. He wanted to make certain I was thoroughly compromised. That you would never want me for your wife. Your grandfather had paid him to make certain of it. After you left… I tried to fight him. I scratched his face till it was bloody, but he was too strong…"

"God."

She opened her eyes at his tortured whisper. Dare had sunk his head in his hands and was clutching his hair, as if he might tear it out by the roots.

"You could not have known what he would do," she said quietly.

His groan was low and harsh. "Don't try to absolve me, Julienne. I should never have left you there with that devil."

"It wasn't your fault. If anything, it was mine, for being so utterly gullible. Afterward… I could scarcely believe it had happened. When he was done, I lay there dazed, stunned. The shock must have dulled my memory, but I remember I swore that I would kill him if he touched me again, if he harmed my mother. He seemed to believe me, for he went away. But I realized that any hope for a future with you had been shattered."

Dare raised his head then, and the pain in his eyes mirrored her own. "You should have told me."

"How could I? If your grandfather was set against our marriage before, what Ivers had done made it a thousand times worse. I was ruined, damaged goods. I had been violated by another man, and I feared you would never want me again. Or worse… that you would do something noble like insist on marrying me. That would have exposed you to scandal and ridicule and caused your grandfather to disinherit you after all. I couldn't let that happen."

Scalding tears filled her eyes as she felt the helplessness again, the hopelessness. The sheer misery of having lost Dare. She had wanted so desperately to tell him the truth, to make him understand that she would have died before willingly betraying him. But she couldn't take the risk.

Agony rushed to envelop her as she remembered, and her tears began to fall.

In two strides he was at her side, lifting her up and wrapping her in his arms, hushing her sobs against his chest.

She wanted to resist. She hated for Dare to see her so vulnerable, so weak. But she had no defenses left. She wept against him, clinging to him tightly.

Dare could barely stand the anguish. It seemed so inadequate to hold her, to try to comfort her, when he'd been the one to hurt her so badly. To see her like this was agony. He ached for her, ached with the need to banish those terrible memories.

After a moment her sobs lessened. Finally she drew back, dashing fiercely at her streaming eyes. "I don't want your pity, Dare. I won't stand for it."

He saw wellsprings of pain in those dark depths, but there was infinite courage amid the vulnerability.

"No," he whispered. "Not pity."

It wasn't pity that smote him. Shame seared at the remnants of his soul. Shame and remorse and self-blame for the nightmare she had endured.

He could picture Julienne then-desperate, devastated, alone. He could only imagine the strength it must have taken to bear the rape and the scandal of his grandfather's accusations afterward. To earn her living in such a difficult profession as acting. To sell her body so that her mother's final days could be less agonizing.

His heart hurt, ravaged by a misery greater than any he had ever known, even when he had thought his love betrayed by a scheming enchantress.

He drew Julienne over to the settee and pulled her down with him, holding her tig

htly against him, his face buried in her hair, until her trembling gradually quieted.

The constriction in his throat made his voice shaky when at last he spoke. "Julienne, I can never deserve your forgiveness. I can only tell you… I would have cut out my heart before letting you be hurt."

With a shuddering breath, she shook her head. "You weren't to blame, Dare."

"I was to blame. I was young and stupid and hotheaded-determined to defy my grandfather at all costs, damn the consequences. But you paid the price for his wrath."

Tenderly he brushed the dampened tendrils of hair from her cheeks, kissed the tears from her face. Then he drew her close again, so that her head lay on his shoulder.

His voice dropped even lower, his tone grim as he recalled that disastrous afternoon. "I was considering ending our betrothal even before I discovered you with Ivers. My grandfather had threatened to charge you with treason, and I feared he might actually attempt it. I was coming to discuss it with you that afternoon. But then… When I saw you with Ivers and he claimed you were lovers, I was insanely jealous. I wanted to kill him merely for touching you."