Sweet Torture (Fated for Love) (18 page)

“I shouldn’t tax you when I mean to care for you. Do you want me to remove the tray? I can leave the tea and toast for you to nibble on?”

“For god’s sake, Lydia, I don’t nibble on things. Do I look like a rat?” He asked tersely. He glared at her as she tried to hide a twitch of a smile, but even glaring was taxing. “You may leave the tea and toast on the bedside table, if you wish.” He closed his eyes. He could hear her moving about and the ting of the cup and plate being set down beside the bed. He cracked an eyelid as she moved away and retrieved the other dishes.

“Do you really intend to nurse me back to health in Olivia’s place?”

She halted near the door and turned back to him. “Yes.”

“I don’t intend to make it easy on you.” He warned.

“Give me your worst, Devon, I don’t intend to fail.”

He smiled wickedly as the door clicked shut behind her. The thrill of challenge boosted his flagging energy. If anything
, it would certainly be entertaining to drive Lydia batty until he was well enough to escape this madhouse on his own two feet.

*~~~

“I warned you, didn’t I?” Olivia stepped out from an alcove.

“Were you hiding in there?”

“Of course. I know how he is. I wanted to be near in case you needed rescuing.”

Lydia sighed. “While I appreciate the sentiment
, I beg you for some privacy. If he knew you were eavesdropping on our interactions, he may not be as forthcoming as I need him to be.”

“I suppose…”

“Give me your word, Livie.” Lydia eyed her sternly.

“You have my word
,” Olivia said grudgingly.

“Thank you.”

“But how will I help you if I don’t know what is happening between you?”

“I will come to you when I need assistance.”

“But—.”

“Well
, well, what do we have here? I smell a conspiracy,” Colton approached them.

“Mrs. Darling,” he greeted Olivia with a sizzling look and sultry smile.

“Mr. Darling,” Olivia purred.

Lydia watched in
awkward silence as husband and wife devoured each other with their eyes.

“Ergh
, um,” She cleared her throat. “Mr. Darling, you will be happy to know that I will be taking over the care of Devon.”

Colton slowly looked away from Olivia and smiled—much more benignly—at Lydia. “I am glad to hear it
, Lady Lydia.”

“Please
, call me, Lydia. There is no use remaining so formal in these circumstances. Things are rather irregular, as it stands.”

“And I would be pleased if you would call me Colton.
I seem to have stumbled upon a rather interesting conversation…?

“I fear not, I was making Olivia swear that she would give Devon and I the necessary privacy we would need to…” Lydia blanked, “patch things up.”

“I understand what you mean,” Colton said reassuringly. “And I am happy to help.”

“Help?” Olivia said.

Colton smiled indulgently at his wife and turned back to, Lydia. “I will keep Olivia occupied.”

“
Occupied!” Olivia scowled.

Colton turned back to his wife.
“I promise you will thoroughly enjoy it.” He winked.

“I appreciate the help.” Lydia tried to hide an awkward smile.
“I promise I will come to you when I need you, Livie.”

“Promise? You said you needed my help
. I hope those weren’t just pretty words to gain access to my brother.”

“Of course not!
I do need you, Livie, but I need to be alone with him, with your aide, of course. I need you to make it so that I see to all his needs, that whenever he calls it is me who answers. Do you understand?”

Olivia sighed.
“I understand, I think. I will do whatever I can.”

“Thank you
, Livie.” Lydia smiled. She turned away from the happy couple, and returned to her room. She didn’t know what to do with herself while waiting for an opportunity to return to Devon. Unless he actually requests her presence, she didn’t have a reasonable excuse to see him until lunch, which seemed so far away. She decided to take a nap. Sleep was her dearest friend these days, and it would help her keep her energy up when dealing with Devon.   

Lydia once again found herself excitedly and nervously standing outside
Devon’s door. A maid stood waiting with her, carrying a tray laden with hot pigeon pie, a piece of lemon tartlet, and a juicy peach. Taking the tray from the maid, the maid knocked twice, turned the handle and nudged open the door for her. Lydia entered, chin up, and ready to do battle.

She spotted Devon sprawled in the
wing-backed chair that he had pushed towards the windows. The windows had been thrown open allowing sunshine to pour in and a light afternoon breeze to waft into the room. He had his head thrown back, eyes closed. He wore nothing but breeches and shirt, and his shirt was unbuttoned and spread to expose his wide muscled chest.

Lydia froze, her eyes greedily absorbing him. She heard a gasp come from behind her
, and she quickly kicked the door shut with her heel. She was not one to share.

Devon lifted one eyelid as she walked further into the room, and set the tray on the bedside table.

“I hope
you're hungry.” Lydia tried to appear unaffected by is bare chest but feared she was failing. “The pigeon pie is exceptional, and I can also attest that the peach is ripe and sweet.”

“Hmmm, ripe and sweet
, you say?” He drawled.

Lydia picked up the
subtle timber of his voice and her pulse quickened. She avoided his gaze and filled a glass of water from a ewer on the bedside table. “Do you wish to eat by the window?”

“I suppose.”

From the corner of her eye, she could see him watching her like prey. What game was he playing at this time?

Lydia looked towards the small table near the hearth. It was really the only
suitable means to dine upon, but she weighed the difficulty of moving it.

She shrugged and walked over to it, gave it a wiggle
, and realized it was not as hefty as it appeared. She began to pull it over when Devon stood and came to help her.

“Please sit, you are still sick.” She waved him away but he ignored her.

“I’m not as sick and invalid as you think I am,” he snapped, “and much as I love to watch you serve me, I am still a gentleman.”

“Well.”

“Go ahead and make whatever remark you wish in regards to my good manners, or lack there of, it would be like old times.”

“Old times?” Lydia scoffed
. “Everyone would be quite pleased for you to return to your old self, terrible rogue that you were.”

“I suppose now I am only terrible.”

Lydia fetched the tray of food from the bedside table and set it on the smaller table. She smiled wistfully, "I believe you have it in you to be a rogue again. Some things just cannot be changed." She saw a ghost of a smile on his lips in response and counted it as a small victory.

“Would you like that
, Lydia?” he asked as he picked up his fork and dug into the pigeon pie.

She paused as she picked up the glass of water. “Of course, we all would.”

“I didn’t ask about the others.”

“You care to know what I would prefer?”

“You had so many opinions about my behavior before, do you not now?”

“You know what my opinion is
as I have told you how I feel. What remains is if you wish to feel the same.”

Devon scowled at his food.

Lydia set the glass down beside his plate. She jumped when he grabbed her hand as she went to pull away. His eyes caught hers, and for a moment, they just stared at each other.

“Why didn’t you marry Caverly
? He was everything you wanted.”

“That’s not true. What I wanted I didn’t think I could have.”

“Bollocks, the only thing standing in our way was you,” he accused.

“I won’t deny that, but now it
’s you, Devon.”

“Me?” He let go of her hand and took a savage bite of the pie. “I have a very good reason for not wanting to marry you now
. Your reasoning was self-induced tripe.”

Lydia stepped back in shock.
She took a second to compose herself. She expected this kind of animosity, but that didn’t take the bite away. “Yes, well, we all have our failings, but its how we choose to go on that defines us, doesn’t it? I’ve accepted my mistake and will do anything to fix it, but you want to punish me while you wallow in self-pity. Tell me, Devon, between the two of us, who is more pathetic?”

“
Touché,” he said bitterly.

Lydia turned away angrily and looked out the window. She knew he was not going to fall easily in with her plans
, but she prayed he would not torture her thusly for long. She wasn’t sure her battered heart could take it. Time was running out. Things needed to be said, revelations made, and hearts mended or he might accuse her of the ultimate deceit and manipulation. She was playing a very dangerous game, though she loathed thinking of it as such, but she desperately needed him to believe in her love before she could reveal all, otherwise he would truly hate her. Lydia wanted nothing less then all of him, all of his heart, given freely and openly.

“I don’t know what to do or say to make you believe me
, Devon. All I can do is to try to win your love back, earn it even.”

Devon shoved the food away and bolted from the chair. He strode towards the bed, then turned away disgusted. He paced the room like a trapped animal.

“Is this how you mean to do it? Corner me here where I can’t get away?”

“No, of course not, but what are we supposed to do, pretend it never happened?”

“That would be a blessing.” He ran his fingers through his hair in agitation.

Lydia clenched her teeth in aggravation. “How can you not talk about what happened
, Devon, how will we resolve it if we don’t talk about it?”

“I can’t talk about it
, Lydia, don’t you understand? I nearly killed myself trying to kill my feelings for you, and now I’m trapped here in this cage with you, and you insist on making me talk about it and feel again.”

“Fine
, Devon!” Lydia turned away sharply, bumping the table and tray of food. They crashed to the floor with a bang, followed by the clatter of dishes shattering.

Devon stared in wide
-eyed shock.

Lydia stood with her chest heaving and her cheeks flagged with red. She strode for the door, angrier than
she had ever felt and embarrassed at her loss of temper. She went in the opposite direction of the main hall, taking the servant stairs to the ground floor. She exited through a side door, and she recognized the garden she and Olivia had strolled in before. She took the path leading to the overlook, her heart beating hard with exertion and emotion. She heard the scuffle of gravel and a curse from behind her and turned. She was stunned to see Devon trailing behind her. His face was pale, and he was sweating profusely.

She rushed over to him as he collapsed on to a stone bench and panted for breath.

“You shouldn’t have followed me,” she scolded him.

“I had
to as I’ve never seen such a wondrous sight such as you loosing your temper. It was magnificent.”

“How like you to make a joke of my emotions when you look fit to expire where you sit.”

“I won’t die. Only the good die young.”

“That’s good to know,” Lydia mumbled.

Devon pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and mopped his brow.

“See? This is better, the bickering, the snide remarks. That makes me feel normal again. I need a little bit of normal until I get my
bearings.”

Lydia thought about what he said. How could she act normal? Everything about them now was exactly opposite of normal. “You want me to pretend everything is normal?”

“God, yes. Everything in my body hurts because of the withdrawal of the Opium. Everyone is treating me like a bloody baby, and acting as if I’m on my deathbed. I need perfectly banal conversation, as hideous as that sounds, and to be treated like an average man—not an invalid.” He turned his face into the sun and sighed.

Lydia watched him diligently. He seemed to enjoy being outside
, for he closed his eyes and took great deep breaths of fresh air.

“
All Right, then. Wait right here.” She turned back towards the house.

He cracked an eye open.
“Where are you going?”

“You want normal and banal? Nothing is as normal as a picnic on a fine afternoon.”

Lydia returned with a blanket
, and a footman carrying a small basket of cucumber sandwiches, a jug of lemon water, and a book of poetry. Devon was precisely where she left him, looking much better and more at ease.