Shattered Dreams Read online

  Elly turned to look over her shoulder just as Spence stepped away from the window to rejoin the men. It was always like this.

  Elly felt a clenching in her chest. She was seven and twenty and they still watched over her as if she were eleven and they could undo what had happened.

  She looked up and locked onto his gaze. “George.”

  “Pardon?”

  “George will come to find me first. He’s my twin and there’s a connection that’s hard to explain. He’ll come.”

  “Then you have nothing to fear. Shall we?”

  She only hesitated a moment. She’d always dreamed of having a handsome man at her side as she walked through a moonlit garden. And there wasn’t a man in all of England who was more handsome than Chardfield.

  He extended his arm and she stared at it for a quick second before she pulled back.

  “There’s no need to escort me. I’m not easy to walk beside.”

  “I’ve been told I’m an excellent escort.”

  He had a way of saying the perfect thing for every occasion. She felt so at ease around him the warning bells went off inside her head. She wondered if he had that effect on all women and knew he did. If not, he wouldn’t have the reputation he did.

  That made him an even bigger threat.

  She took an independent step away from him and crossed the smooth stone terrace. When she reached the steps, she used the railing to steady her descent. He followed behind her.

  “Would it have been so difficult for you to accept my help?” he said as they walked the cobbled lane.

  “I’m quite capable of managing by myself.”

  “Most women are but they accept a man’s assistance because it makes the man feel useful.”

  “Are you admitting a sense of ineptitude?”

  “Not ineptitude, exactly. But helping a female builds a man’s self-confidence.”

  Elly laughed. “I grew up with four brothers, my lord. Not one of them lacks confidence.”

  “Don’t they?”

  Elly thought of all the sacrifices her brothers had made to make up for what happened that one disastrous day. But her brothers were different. Charfield couldn’t have anything nearly so heavy weighing on him.

  She couldn’t imagine him lacking self-confidence.

  “What if I told you that I do?”

  “I wouldn’t believe you for a second.”

  “Oh, Lady Elyssa, let me assure you. There isn’t a man alive who doesn’t need every opportunity to prove himself to the woman he’s trying to impress.”

  Her footsteps halted. “You’re trying to impress me?”

  “Of course.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I think you are worth impressing.”

  Another warning sent a shiver through her. She couldn’t allow him to say such lies. She turned to face him. “What is it you want?”

  “You think I want something from you?”

  “Of course. What is it you want?”

  “To be your friend. To enjoy your company for the next two weeks and hope you’ll enjoy mine.”

  She looked up at him and felt a warmth flow through her that washed away every warning she’d issued. She was weakening and the little voice she could usually count on to deliver such stern rebukes was suddenly quiet. Instead, she heard an earthier-toned voice whisper that it would be all right to give herself over just this once. That she didn’t have to be totally independent - just this once.

  “Have I come close to convincing you that you can trust me?”

  Elly stared at his outstretched hand. This was the second time tonight she’d been expected to walk with someone other than one of her brothers. The second time tonight she’d been expected to lean on someone other than herself.

  An encouraging seriousness shadowed his features and she slowly lifted her hand and placed her palm atop his muscled arm.

  “You won’t regret your decision,” he said as if he knew the trust she was giving him.

  They turned away from the house and took their first step further into the garden.

  There was something magical about the harmonious way they moved. His gait seemed to fit with hers even better than Harrison’s or George’s, or any of her brothers.

  With her cane in her right hand and his strong arm beneath her left, Elly could almost forget she walked with a limp. Could pretend she was whole, desirable.

  They walked down one path, then another, and Elly could not remember a more perfect night.

  After they walked a while, he led her to one of the small stone benches placed along the paths. She didn’t need the benches as places to rest. Her leg was remarkably strong. But she sat here in the garden often and read.

  He helped her sit, then sat beside her.

  “You haven’t completely answered my question. Why is it so important to prove your independence to your family? Because you are female?”

  No one had ever put it so bluntly. “Yes, and because I am unmarried and refuse to be a burden.”

  “If I may ask,” he said, suddenly seeming closer than he’d been before. “Why are you unmarried?”

  Every defense she possessed snapped to attention. Was he serious? Or was he making fun of her? Suddenly he seemed no different than any other man she’d met and her temper soared. “Because I choose to be. Which is no doubt a better reason for remaining single than you have.”

  She turned to face him squarely and found herself entirely too close to his towering strength. But she couldn’t back down. She never backed down. “Isn’t your obligation to assure an heir to the Charfield dynasty important to you? I would have thought you’d have found the perfect Countess by now and set up your nursery. Isn’t that what every nobleman is expected to do?”

  She expected a retort. Instead he laughed.

  “Touché,” he said, looking at her with a wide grin on his face. “Society says we both have an obligation to wed – you as the eldest daughter of the Duke of Sheridan, and I, as the Earl of Charfield. My reason for not marrying, however, is quite simple. I have a brother who has taken over that responsibility for me. Three sons at last count. Or perhaps it is four by now, since my dear sister-in-law is in a delicate condition once again and expected to deliver any time soon.”

  “You do not want an heir of your own?”

  Elly couldn’t believe it. Every titled peerage wanted an heir.

  “It isn’t that I have anything against providing a Charfield heir. It’s the sacrifice one is forced to make to accomplish it.”

  “And what sacrifice would that be?”

  “Marriage.”

  He spat the word out so solidly it almost seemed like a curse. “You don’t want to marry?”

  He rose from the bench and took a step away from her. He turned to look out into the moonlit darkness and clasped his hands behind his back. “Were you acquainted with my parents?”

  “I never met them.”

  “But you heard about them.”

  She felt her cheeks warm and was relieved he couldn’t see her discomfiture. Every time her family returned from London they had a new tale to tell concerning the Earl and Countess of Charfield. She’d been shocked at some of the lengths the two would go to disgrace the other. “Society has a habit of embellishing its gossip with each telling so I—”

  Charfield’s bitter laughter stopped her words. “Oh, believe me. Nothing you heard concerning my parents needed embellishment. The arguments they had in public were legendary, as well as their indiscretions. Their words and actions had but one goal – to humiliate and inflict as much pain as possible on each other.”

  “Many marriages are not based on love.”

  “But most other couples do not put their dislike for each other on display for the world to see. And ridicule.”

  “So you have decided not to marry?”

  For several long seconds he didn’t answer. When he did, his voice contained a tone she couldn’t quite explain.

  He returned to the
bench and sat beside her. “I’m going to tell you something I’ve never told another soul. It isn’t marriage I object to. In fact, I see many benefits to having a wife. But when I marry, it will be because I have fallen in love.”

  “And you have never fallen in love?”

  She wanted to take her words back the second they left her mouth but it was too late.

  “No.”

  Her breath caught. She didn’t want to know that he’d never been in love. She didn’t want to know how seriously he took the sanctity of marriage. His words were another indication of how perfect he was.

  How perfect the woman he married would have to be.

  How lacking she was.

  “Why did you tell me this?”

  He smiled. “I don’t know. Perhaps because I trust you. Perhaps because it was something I finally needed to say out loud. Or, perhaps because it was something I wanted you to know.”

  She was in uncharted territory and she wasn’t sure she was safe there. She quickly erected the wall she always kept firmly in place when threatened. “Your confession is safe with me. But it’s not necessary that I know your feelings.”

  “Isn’t it?”

  “No.”

  She wanted to cut him off there but couldn’t. She couldn’t be so abrupt. Appear to be so unfeeling. So she added, “But I’m glad you shared that with me.”

  He smiled then looked up at the moon as it appeared from behind a cloud. “So am I.”

  Her blood turned to liquid heat as it flowed through her veins.

  He turned to look at her. The smile was still on his handsome face.

  “So am I,” he whispered again, then leaned forward and touched his mouth to hers.

  His lips were warm and firm and he tasted of fine wine and something else she couldn’t explain. She’d never been kissed before so she wasn’t quite prepared for such an earth-shattering experience.

  Every inch of her body tingled as if a bolt of lightning flashed from the sky and struck her. The blood pounded against her ears like the dull thud of a heavy clanging bell. And the heat...

  Her face warmed as though she’d stepped too close to a blazing fire and her heart raced so fast she feared it might leap from her chest.

  Emotion boiled inside her nearly to overflowing and she clutched her hands in the folds of her skirt to keep from lifting them. She ached to wrap her arms around his neck and hold him to her. And never let him go.

  “Elly?”

  She gasped when he lifted his mouth from hers and fought the urge to pull him back.

  “Elly?”

  “They’re calling you.” His voice sounded raspy and hoarse.

  “It’s... George...,” she said, pulling away from him.

  She wasn’t sure what had just happened. He’d kissed her and she should be shocked, embarrassed. Instead, she wanted him to kiss her again.

  “Ah, yes. George.”

  “I need to go back to the house.”

  She slid to the edge of the bench and prepared to rise. He was on his feet in a second to stand in front of her just as he’d done before.

  “Elly?”

  “You’d better answer him or we’ll have all your brothers storming the garden in search of you.”

  She nodded. “I’m here, George.” She tried to make her voice sound as normal as possible.

  “Are you ready?” Charfield said, holding his arm toward her.

  She looked at the arm she needed to hold to rise more gracefully and dreaded the thought of having to touch him. Not because she dreaded touching him, but because she found his touch disturbing. As disturbing as his nearness.

  As disturbing as his kiss.

  As disturbing as the thoughts his kiss elicited.

  She needed time to herself. Time to forget how he made her feel. Time to rationalize what was happening.

  Perhaps she was coming down with some malady.

  But after she placed her hand atop his arm, she knew what was happening to her was worse than any malady from which she’d ever suffered.

  Far worse.

  Chapter 8

  Brent pushed Danza as fast as he dared.

  Just as she’d promised, Lady Elyssa had found the most challenging course he’d ever raced.

  A copse of trees spanned the meadow ahead of them. According to her detailed instructions at the outset of their race there would be a series of small hedge rows just over the rise, then a narrow stream at the bottom of the hill, followed by a sharp incline before they reached another flat stretch. A stately old maple tree on the opposite side of the open meadow would mark the finish line.

  For a fraction of a second, he contemplated letting her win - until he saw the stubborn expression on her face and the fierce determination in her eyes. He knew he couldn’t give her that advantage over him.

  He looked to his right. Her horse raced neck and neck with his. She was a master horsewoman and exhibited complete control as she crouched low over the huge Arabian. Never before had he met anyone so amazing – male or female – and he knew one fact for certain.

  He could not allow her to win.

  He urged his horse to run faster and edged ahead. This race wasn’t about whose horse was faster. It was a battle of mastery. Of who could master whom.

  There’d been fear in her eyes when he’d kissed her as well as confusion. It was obvious that last night was the first time she’d been kissed. The expression on her face when she pulled away told him that she didn’t understand the emotions that rushed through her.

  Bloody hell. Neither did he!

  The fear she experienced would no doubt prompt her to erect more barriers in an attempt to prevent him from breaching her emotions. Allowing her to win the race would strengthen those barriers and put her further out of his reach.

  He concentrated on winning with greater determination.

  His horse took the first hedge a length ahead of hers, then the second with perfect execution. Her Arabian landed nearly a full second behind his and he vowed he’d give Danza an extra ration of oats when they returned to the stable.

  Danza took the stream in a clean leap. But so did Lady Elyssa’s horse. And the pounding of hooves seemed closer.

  The hill at the top of the rise was as steep as she’d described and he felt his challenger breathing down his neck. He looked to his right and saw her racing beside him. The hardened look of determination on her face reminded him of the look he’d seen on many a rider’s face, the look that said she refused to contemplate defeat.

  But to him it wasn’t defeat. It was equality.

  An equality between the two of them.

  He pushed Danza up the steep rise, knowing that when they reached the top there was only a meadow to cross and the race would be over.

  Bloody hell, but she was magnificent. By this time, most riders would have reached the end of their endurance. But she rode as if she was barely winded.

  Danza reached the top of the rise, his lungs pushing out great puffs of air as he charged to a run. When the two horses reached the flat land that stretched before them, both seemed to find a new burst of energy and raced as if they hadn’t already been pushed nearly beyond endurance.

  Neck and neck, each horse and rider gave everything they had to be the winner in the race.

  He leaned over Danza’s neck, asking his horse to reach deep down to find the reserve of strength Arabians were known to possess. And Danza did.

  His amazing Arabian flew like the wind and reached the stately oak a mere second before Lady Elyssa’s horse. But there was no doubt which horse was the victor.

  He pulled his horse to a stop beside her and wanted to shout aloud. “You were as magnificent as yesterday,” he said, facing her. “Absolutely, magnificent.”

  He wanted to laugh. He wanted to shout. He wanted to reach out and hug her to him.

  “So were you.” Her face beamed with pleasure. “Your Arabian is as magnificent as mine! They’re perfectly matched!”

  There was
no anger, or jealousy, or bitterness in her tone – just admiration.

  And excitement.

  Her cheeks held a deep rosy hue, both from exertion and excitement. She’d tied her hair back with a dark green ribbon but long amber wisps had come loose to float around her face in defiance of her attempt to contain them.

  It was her eyes, though, that drew his attention. She should be exhausted, but there was a sparkle in her gaze that indicated that if he challenged her to repeat the race, she would agree.

  Never before had he met someone so alive with such a pent-up zest for life.

  “I hope you’re not disappointed that I didn’t let you win,” he said.

  Not until then did her eyes flash with something other than elation.

  “Do you think I am only used to winning, sir? Or that I would admire you more if you’d let me come out the victor?”

  “No,” he said on a laugh. “Which was why it was so important that I win.”

  “Important? Why was it important?” she asked with an honest frown on her face.

  “Because had I lost, I think you would have thought less of me.”

  A shocked look covered her face. “I would hardly have thought less of you.”

  “Wouldn’t you have? Then what would your opinion of me have been?”

  I’m not sure.” Her words came out slowly and were filled with contemplation, “But I wouldn’t have thought less of you.”

  He smiled. He couldn’t have received a better compliment from her. “Let me tell you what I think. I think that had you won, I would have been easier to ignore.” He leaned a fraction toward her. “Be forewarned, Lady Elyssa. I don’t intend to make it easy for you to dismiss me.”

  Her eyes widened and he continued before she had time to interrupt.

  “I also think you’re a little bit frightened.”

  “You think I’m afraid of you?”

  “No.” His gaze riveted on hers as he finished his sentence. “I think you’re frightened of the feelings I force you to face.”

  She lifted her chin several notches. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”