Page 8 of The Butterfly
“Why?” he demanded again, leaning into her, resting his head upon her shoulder and gathering her close.
His familiar scent enveloped her, cedar and the spicy aroma of the cheroots he loved so much. She rested her head on top of his, breathing him in, taking comfort in his presence. He and Niall were here … her two knights in shining armor. She did not have to do this alone any longer. They would help her fight her way back.
“The laudanum,” she whispered, trying to find the words to explain to him as she’d tried with Niall. “It takes everything away … all the feelings.”
In the first days following her return from the asylum for unwed mothers, she’d been in such a state, the physicians had recommended she be committed to an institution for the insane. She had no memory of this, but Adam had told her often enough that he would not see her languishing in one of those godforsaken places. The first bottle of laudanum had been left with them by the doctor, who’d claimed it could help keep her calm, dull the edges of the sharp swords impaling her heart, mind, and soul.
For a time, it had worked. It had allowed her to rest, to find peace in oblivion and escape from the nightmares. Now, she wondered if it might have been better to face her demons as opposed to running from them. It felt as if every time she turned around, there they stood, the dragon, the demon, that tall, cold tower … tormenting her, reminding her that they were real, that they had taken so much from her already.
“Aye, butterfly, I know,” Adam said, the affection heavy in his voice at the utterance of his nickname for her.
She shook her head; he did not know, he did not understand. “I just wanted … I wanted to feel again, Hart. I couldn’t feel anything.”
He drew back to meet her gaze, searching, trying to understand. She looked back at him, willing him to grasp the reality of her situation. If she continued on the way she had for the past five years, she would die.
After a long moment of silence, he nodded, resolute. “No more laudanum. Not unless you truly want it.”
A sigh of relief welled up in her chest, and she released it as a tear streamed down her cheek. Freedom, at last. No more having that awful drug forced down her throat … even when she craved it, even when she begged for it. If Adam declared something would be so, he would not change his mind. He would be here to ensure another drop of the potent draught never touched her lips again.
“No more laudanum,” she agreed with a smile.
And for the first time in so long, she felt the stirrings of hope deep in her soul.
“This will not be easy,” he told her as he began bandaging her arm, re-covering the wounds. “Your body will crave the laudanum. It won’t be pleasant.”
No, it would not be. Already, her hands had begun to shake, her insides quivering, the sensation of need gnawing upon her gut. She hadn’t had a swallow of the stuff all day, and it was beginning to take its toll. By morning, she would be a writhing, panting mess, desperate for even a drop. Thinking of the vibrant sting of pain, she smiled at him.
“I know … I want that, too.”
Adam nodded in understanding, which brought her even more relief. He lived in the shadows, reveling in his own inner pain. Surely, he could see that she needed this, to let it all consume her—the pain, the fear, the darkness. And then, perhaps, she could finally move forward with her life. Maybe she would never be the same, but then, she did not want to be Lady Olivia Goodall the perfect, porcelain doll again. She wanted to be something better, something stronger. She could never become that if she went on like this.
He’d just opened his mouth as if to reply when Niall appeared in the doorway behind him, his expression clouded with annoyance. Such an expression made the scar running across his left cheek stand out, white and strained against his sun-kissed skin. His hands balled into fists at his sides, causing his shoulders to strain the seams of his coat.
“Master, there is someone here demanding an audience with you.”
Adam scowled. “Whoever it is can sod off, Niall. Now is not the time—”
“Where is he?” screeched a woman’s voice from outside the room, carrying down the hall and into the bedchamber. “I will not be put off! Tell the bloody coward to come and face me!”
Olivia furrowed her brow and peered behind Niall to catch sight of whoever had come here looking for her brother. By the sound of things, Hart had done something to upset this woman. Adam was on his feet in a blink, his long legs carrying him swiftly to the door.
He disappeared for a moment, and from where she lay, Olivia could hear more shouting and screaming, her brother’s low, rumbling tones mingling with the woman’s high-pitched ones. Despite her own current predicament, she could not help the curiosity welling up in her at what sounded like a lover’s quarrel.
The past few weeks and months had been such a haze, but she could faintly remember that he’d had a guest at Dunottar recently … a woman who’d had the household servants whispering bits of gossip when they thought she was not listening. Their liaison was supposed to have ended three months prior, but, apparently, this was far from over.
Niall peered out into the corridor just as Hart’s voice came thundering toward them, loud and clear.
“Stay with Olivia. No laudanum!”
CHAPTER THREE
iall frowned as the door of the bedchamber slammed shut, the sounds of Adam shouting with his lover fading away as another door banged down the corridor. The Fairchild chit had his friend’s balls in the palm of her hand, and the idiot did not even realize it. Adam had pursued the woman with one purpose in mind—repay the family who had ruined Olivia by ruining their only daughter. His aims had been achieved after a thirty-day affair in Scotland had seen Lady Daphne Fairchild ruined, not only privately, but publicly. Their arrival in London had only further bolstered the rumors Hart had purposely spread so that not one member of the Londontoncould be left with any doubt that Daphne was a fallen woman.
However, even after all had been said and done, Adam could not free himself from the snare of the woman. Instead of focusing his energies upon the man who had forced himself on Olivia, he continued to pursue Daphne as a means to an end. And while Niall knew enough about high society to understand that any public blow against Daphne also counted as a strike against her brother, it was not enough. Lord Bertram Fairchild deserved to die for what he had done to Olivia, and even though watching Adam systematically destroy the entire family was satisfying, it could never be enough.
Turning to gaze at Olivia, he was struck by just how true that thought was. For the things that had been done to her and the hellish existence she had lived through in the aftermath, Bertram Fairchild could not pay enough.
“No laudanum?” he asked, striding toward the bed. “Did you decide that, or did he?”
