Page 55 of The Dove
She lowered her gaze and sighed, but shook her head, and he released her, satisfied with that. Perhaps she was angry with him now, but she would soon understand that this was all for the best. Bertram had yet to answer for exposing their agreement to the entireton, and now, he had threatened to destroy his family by taking Serena and ousting Olivia’s condition, as well. It could not be allowed to stand. As long as Bertram lived, he would always be a threat.
So, he would end this once and for all, and then, he would return to Scotland where he belonged. His little dove belonged there, too, and once they were safely ensconced there, everything would be as it was, and she would remember. She would thank him, she would be grateful, and she would be his.
That evening after dinner, Daphne waited until Adam had hidden away in the drawing room with the pianoforte and a bottle of brandy, closing himself off for what she hoped would be hours. Then, she went in search of Niall. Her stomach had been churning all day, her hands shaking so badly, she was surprised she’d been able to feed herself. Adam’s declaration had echoed through her mind relentlessly.
I will kill Bertram … without an ounce of hesitation, remorse, or regret.
She believed him, of course. He’d given her no reason to doubt that his murderous rage toward Bertram could not someday manifest into a physical threat. In truth, she found herself surprised it had not come to this sooner.
Despite knowing this had been inevitable, she could not help the unease twisting in her gut … the feeling that once Adam committed this one act, things would never be the same. Simply taking the people under his protection back to Dunnottar and pretending everything was as it had been would not mend matters. The anger in his gut would never be assuaged, not when he still clung to it like a rabid dog with a bone, refusing to let go. Perhaps her brother did deserve to die, and yes, he had brought this all upon himself. Yet, a part of her wanted to fight this, to find some other way to solve the dilemma without being forced to watch Adam go off to kill her brother.
Not because she wanted Bertram to live, but because her heart ached over the possibility of what it might do to Adam. It was so ridiculous, she almost laughed at herself aloud. Foolish Daphne, her soft heart yearning for a man who could never truly love her, not when her name tied her to his mortal enemy. Even if he killed Bertram, Adam would never be able to see her as anything other than a Fairchild, the daughter, sister, and niece of the men who had destroyed his entire world.
No matter. Even if he could never care for her the way she cared for him, she would save him. She would save him from himself, even if he tossed her aside afterward, changing his mind about wanting her. Even if he scorned her. Even if he hated her for it.
She found Niall coming from the wine cellar, a bottle of what had once been her father’s best burgundy clutched in one fist. Now, she supposed it was Adam’s best burgundy, as everything within these now walls belonged to him … including her.
“M’lady,” he said, glancing up and coming to a stop in the middle of the corridor. “Is there something’ ye’re needin’?”
She smiled at his formal address of her. She would have preferred he called her Daphne, but supposed ‘m’lady’ was far better than the silent glaring he typically subjected her to.
Grasping his arm, she propelled him through the nearest door, closing it behind them after peering over her shoulder to ensure they were not seen or overheard. The steady flow of music still came from the drawing room, so she did not worry over Adam discovering them.
“I need your help,” she said, pressing her back against the door.
Raising an eyebrow, Niall set the burgundy on a nearby table and crossed his arms over his chest. “I s’pose ye want me to help ye talk him out of it.”
She sighed, running a hand over her bedraggled coiffure. “He cannot go through with it, Niall. You hate my brother as much as he does, but even you must see that.”
The butler studied her in silence for a long while, his bruised knuckles a potent reminder of the events of that afternoon in the courtyard. She shuddered at the memory of all that blood, of Bertram’s swollen face and unsteady gait as he’d walked away. Niall had been fit to murder her brother with his bare hands.
“Hart’s a hard man ’cause he’s had to be one,” Niall replied. “But he’s no killer.”
Her eyes widened as she realized the butler agreed with her. “Then you’ll help me.”
He scoffed. “And have him turnin’ all that rage on me? I’m no fool, lass. Once Hart gets it in his head that somethin’ must be done, there’s no stoppin’ him.”
Pressing her fingers to her temples, she tried to stifle a growing headache. “I know that! Don’t you think I know that?”
Niall raised his eyebrows at her sharp tone, then smirked, his gaze turning knowing. “Well, I’ll be damned. You actually love the bastard.”
She scowled at his inference. “Of course I do not. How could I after all he’s done?”
“He does you, ye know,” he replied with a shrug. “Too much a fool to know it, but it’s true. Why else would you two be so bloody mad for each other? It defies reason.”
She opened her mouth to protest, but then clamped it shut, knowing she would never be able to reason with the man. Of course she did not love Adam—the man who had coerced her into their fateful agreement and ravaged her body in every way possible. The man who had set about her destruction every chance he got, just because he knew it would serve to further infuriate her brother.
“Will you help me or not?” she asked, hands braced upon her hips. “I cannot do this without you, as Adam will never let me leave the house alone, and I need to be able to leave in order to execute my plan.”
He pursed his lips, tapping his chin with his index finger as if thinking it over. “So ye’ve a plan, then?”
She nodded. The idea had come to her over dinner, a way that they could intercede before Adam had a chance to carry out his own agenda.
“I do,” she replied. “And it will work, but only if we can convince Adam that I need to go to my townhouse to prepare my own things. He wishes me to have my servants do it, but we must come up with some reason I must be the one … and if you insist you can escort me, then he might relent and allow me to leave. Please, Niall.”
After staring at her in silence for another long moment, he heaved a heavy sigh and nodded, though it seemed reluctant. “Aye, then. I’ll help ye. But, if we’re caught, ye’ll take the fall for it, lass.”
She grinned and threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing his cheek with a loud smack. He grunted, patting her back, then setting her away from him. His ears had flushed red, but he glowered at her.
