Page 31 of The Butterfly
“Of course not,” he replied. “Yer the smartest person I know. But, Adam and me … we didnae want ye gettin’ caught up in it.”
“It is too late. We are all wrapped up in it now. Besides, I cannot pretend to be pleased about the way Adam has gone about using her as some sort of weapon against her family.”
Niall clenched his teeth, exasperation welling up swifter than he could control. Couldn’t she see that they’d had no choice? The family who had destroyed her did not deserve pity. They had earned every bit of the hell Adam had brought down on them, and Niall had reveled in watching every blow fall.
“Her brother violated ye,” he spat. “Her father turned ye away when ye came to him with news of the babe ye carried. Her uncle tricked ye and took ye away to that godforsaken asylum. She’s one o’them, Livvie. The chit doesnae deserve yer pity!”
“She cannot help the family she was born into, any more than I could,” Olivia argued. “I cannot believe you are defending Adam in this!”
She seemed more than content to let go of him now, so Niall sat up, staring down at her in disbelief.
“And I cannae believe ye’d turn on him after all he’s done to protect ye!”
Jaw dropping in horror, she struggled to sit up, as well. “I’d never turn on my brother. That does not mean I will condone his actions. While I certainly understand, and even share in his anger toward the Fairchild family, I will not condemn Lady Daphne when she has never done me harm.”
Tearing the bedclothes aside, he got to his feet, fumbling about for his shirt. He did not bother to hide his scars. He had no secrets from her any longer.
“She might have known what was done to ye,” he muttered while pulling the garment over his head. “She might’ve known and done nothing. And if she did …”
“You do not know for certain, do you?” Olivia challenged, turning to watch as he tucked his shirt in and jerked his braces up over his shoulders. “You’ve just decided to hate her because you are angry with them.”
“Asyoushould be! For Chrissake, Livvie, that family destroyed ye!”
“Why won’t you simply admit that it is not Lady Daphne you are angry with?” she said, voice low, eyes turned down to the bedclothes. “You are angry withme, Niall. You always have been.”
He paused in lifting his coat off the back of a chair, something twisting in his middle, making it difficult to breathe. Her accusation fell heavy upon his shoulders, searing him right down to his marrow.
“Why would ye say somethin’ like that?” he rasped, the lump in his throat making his words come out rough. “Of course I’m not mad at ye.”
Biting her lip, she nodded, tears welling in her dark eyes. “Yes, you are. It is all right, Niall. I am angry, too. But, I just want to live again. I want to move forward with my life and … I don’t know, perhaps find some sort of happiness. I want that for you, too. But we have to face the things that have happened. I think that has been my problem all along. My mind retreated from what was done to me, so that I could survive. But survival is no longer enough. And if I must confront my … my demons … then you must face yours. You are angry with me for putting myself in the position I did. If I hadn’t … then maybe none of this would have happened.”
Was this what she thought—that he blamed her for being raped? He wanted to be insulted that she would assume such a thing. But then, he realized perhaps Olivia was actually the one who was angry with herself. Perhaps she thought she might have avoided her fate somehow, avoided Bertram.
For his part, Niall blamed himself … he always had. If he hadn’t allowed her to leave, things would have turned out differently.
“The blame for what happened doesnae rest on you,” he insisted. “It falls on the Fairchilds, and if Adam has to use the daughter to get to them, no one will tell him he cannae … not even you.”
“Niall—”
“I cannae do this right now,” he snapped, pulling on his coat and making his way toward the door. “Ye need to rest more … yer strength is only just returnin’. I’ll send yer breakfast and Maeve so she can help ye with a bath.”
“Niall,” she called out, halting him at the door.
He turned to glance at her over his shoulder, one hand still on the knob. “Dinnae ask me to forgive them, Livvie. I cannae, and I willnae. It’s because I love ye that I hate them. Can ye not see that?”
Without waiting for her to respond, he jerked the door open and stormed out into the corridor. Slamming it shut behind him, he leaned against it, closing his eyes with a deep breath.
He had forgotten how perceptive she could be when her lucid moments had come to be few and far between. He had also forgotten how well she knew him, how easily she could force him to confront things he would rather avoid.
Damn it, he did notwantto let go of his anger. It was what had driven him all this time, what had kept him alive when he’d thought the agony of watching her suffer might kill him. It was all he and Adam had had left after she’d returned to them in shambles. And now, because she’d been lucid for a short time, he was supposed to simply forget it all? He was supposed to overlook that when she’d first come back to them, she had not even been able to speak? Should he also disregard that the poor child who had been born in the midst of all this might someday have to be told where she’d come from?
Olivia did not understand. How could she when she’d spent so much of the past five years out of her mind? And who was to say the moment of clarity would last? It never did, and he would be a fool to get his hopes up that this time would be different. That reminder only made matters worse, until he felt as if he might tear the entire house down to its foundation if he could not get himself under control.
He spied Maeve coming down the corridor, a stack of clean linens for Olivia held in her arms.
“Oh, good morning, Niall. I was just coming to take over with Olivia for you.”
He gave a jerky nod and moved away from the door. “She’s just woken up and needs breakfast and a bath. Now that she’s better, she’ll be wantin’ to see Serena. I’ll come back with her later.”
