Page 37 of The Butterfly
He dropped the saddle to the ground, sending a small cloud of dust wafting up into the air. With a heavy sigh, he turned to face her, his face hard and expressionless as if carved from granite. For reasons she could not understand, her stomach lurched, her heartbeat quickening at the sight of him. Having known him all of her life, Olivia had seen Niall in just about every mood imaginable. She had been witness to his anger and rage, his sadness, his grief following the death of his mother. She’d seen him smiling and laughing; she had even seen him weep. But this … she had never seen him like this—his mouth a harsh line, eyes ringed with dark circles, forehead furrowed with deep lines. He appeared to have aged by years in a matter of days, the grave expression he wore reminding her too much of her stepfather.
“Ye shouldnae be in here,” he said, folding his arms over his chest and staring down at her in a way that made her blood run cold.
What the devil was the matter with him?
“Why not? I thought you might have come up with a plan for … well, you know.”
She did not want to say it aloud on the chance someone happened upon them. There was another reason she could not say it, though she still did not fully understand. This dread opening like a yawning, black pit in her middle warned her that something had gone terribly awry.
A muscle in his jaw clenched as he took a step toward her, his gaze cutting through her with all the sharpness of a dagger. “Ye cannae think I really meant any of that, could ye?”
A gasp burned in her throat, trapped there by the tightening of her airway. Something indescribable traveled through her, like ripples over the surface of a pond. It made her head spin and her mouth go dry, confusion swirling with hurt inside of her in a torrent.
“Wh-what do you mean?” she stammered. “You said …”
“I told ye we cannae do somethin’ so stupid,” he snapped. “Then, ye wouldnae leave well enough alone, so I said what I thought ye wanted to hear, Livvie. But we both know it was ridiculous.Us, get married? It’ll never happen.”
Her eyes stung with tears that would not come, a sudden coldness washing over her like the blast of a winter wind. A thousand icicles seemed to penetrate the surface of her skin, making it difficult to feel anything beyond the sick sensation of betrayal.
“I do not understand. I … you … I thought you loved me. You said—”
“God, yer a green one, aren’t ye? I’da said anything to get ye to spread yer legs for me.”
In the far reaches of her mind, a part of her railed and screamed, urging her to hit him, to lash out and hurt him the way he’d just hurt her. But, she could only stand there, dumbfounded, feeling as if she stared at some other person. This man saying such horrible things to her … he was not her Niall.
“Why are you doing this?” she whispered as the first of her tears fell.
If at all possible, his expression hardened even more, his upper lip curling as he loomed over her. “Because it has to be done. We had fun, Livvie, but it was never meant to last. Ye know that. It’s over now, ye ken?”
She sniffled, shaking her head as another tear fell, and then another, the hot splash searing her face, her throat, wetting the neckline of her gown. “I do not believe you. You love me, Niall. I know you do. You’re just afraid. What we’re about to do … it is frightening. But, we will be all right. We have each other, we … we can do this.”
He took hold of her, his fingers biting into her arms as he drew her up until they were nearly nose to nose, her feet just barely touching the ground. “Ye just dinnae get it, ye little fool. I’m done with ye now. Goaway!”
She gripped the front of his shirt and held fast, not caring now how ridiculous she might look or sound. He could not do this, not when they had been so close to finally being happy together. She was convinced this was fear talking; he did not truly mean the things he said. He was trying to push her away, the noble idiot. He thought hurting her would make it easier, that if he made her hate him, it would be over for good. Little did he know she could not have hated him if she’d tried with every fiber of her being.
“No. I will not go away. Not when I know you do not really mean any of it. You are afraid, and so am I. But, we cannot give in to it, Niall. We have to face it, overcome it together. And I know that we can do it, you and I. You are still my strong, fearless knight … I know you are. And I … I love you.”
He made a little shocked sound, his face shifting for just a moment before he schooled it into its hard mask again—as if he hadn’t meant to display his astonishment. She had never said the words to him aloud because, like Niall, she had been petrified. Why should she confess her love when she’d be forced to leave him in the end? Perhaps he had always known. She liked to believe he had. But, she needed him to understand, to hear what she’d never said but had always understood. She felt as if she’d been born to love him and belong to him.
“No,” he rasped, shaking his head, his hold on her tightening until it began to hurt. “Ye dinnae love me. How could ye? I was always just a diversion for ye. The dirty, lowly stable boy ye could coerce into fuckin’ ye—”
“No, that isn’t true!”
“Itis! Ye know it’s true! Ye’re always beggin’ me for more … ‘please, Niall … take me, Niall … fuck me, Niall’ … like the little tart ye are. And when ye were done with me, I s’pose ye might have made yer way through the footmen next!”
Each word fell on her like a physical blow, and still, she did her best to remain strong in the face of it, to get through to him no matter what.
“You do not believe that,” she managed between sobs. “I know better, and so do you.”
“Ye dinnae know anything, and that’s yer problem. Yer just a little girl livin’ in a fantasy. So let me tell ye how it is going to be. Yer gonna go to London and have yer bloody Season. Ye’re gonna dance and drink champagne and flirt with those fancy lairds until ye find one ye like. Ye’ll let him court ye and woo ye, and when he asks ye to wed him, ye’ll say yes. Ye’ll go off to some big country mansion and host parties and have his bairns and be a grand lady like ye were raised to be. And ye’ll forget about me.”
She shook her head. “No … Iwon’t.”
“Yewill,” he insisted, giving her a shake so hard, it rattled her teeth. “Grow up, Livvie. Take a good look around ye. We are in a stable. This is where I belong. Ye belong in London with men who have titles and money and … just go. We’re done. It is over.”
He set her away from him then, taking a step back, then another, his chest heaving and a thick vein standing out along the side of his neck. He was trembling, even the clench of his hands not enough to keep her from seeing it. The tears were coming so fast, she had no hope of trying to stifle them. But, why should she? He had to know how this hurt her, how devastating it was to experience the sting of scorn from someone who had only ever handled her with affection and care.
“You are a coward,” she sobbed, swiping the back of her hand across her watery eyes. “I could never have thought it true, but I can see now that it is. You’re a bloodycoward!”
