Page 62 of The Butterfly
Before long, Cassandra calmed, and they all separated. Daphne gave them instructions to meet here at the Bellingham home tomorrow evening, so that they could go to confront Bertram together. She had somehow figured out where he and Adam were set to meet and would ensure they arrived in plenty of time to carry out their plan, with the magistrate in tow.
Niall approached as she and Cassandra pulled apart, offering one large hand in silent offering, his eyes radiating sincere remorse. Cassandra stared up at him for a moment without moving or speaking, and for a moment, she thought the girl meant to shun him out of fear—not that Olivia could blame her. Finally, she placed her hand in his, chin trembling as she struggled for composure.
Niall kept his grip light as he bowed over her hand. “Ye’re a brave one, lass. Never let anyone make ye think ye aren’t.”
Cassandra blinked, clearly taken aback. But Niall was already releasing her hand and stepping away. Then, he put a hand at the small of Olivia’s back and gestured toward the door. Everyone had begun to disperse, meeting the butler and footmen near the front door to gather their things. Winifred, who had remained silent through the entire meeting, stood in a corner whispering with Daphne, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief.
She let Niall lead her out to await their things, as well as Daphne. She felt Lady Cassandra’s gaze upon them the entire way, until Daphne joined them, and they bundled up before venturing out into the cold night.
The walk home was silent, with Niall holding tight to her hand and Daphne lowering her head against the oncoming winter wind. She wondered how Daphne felt, knowing Bertram had sired another child. Even if that child had not been born, it had to affect her to know how careless her brother had been.
Olivia was relieved to arrive back at the house, weariness having set in after such an emotional evening and the hours of waiting leading up to it. She wanted nothing more than a hot bath and to climb into bed with Niall and not come out until morning. A footman met them in the vestibule, a silver tray with an envelope set upon it in one gloved hand.
“Good evening. There is a message for Lady Olivia.”
Her eyebrows rose as she accepted the envelope. Niall and Daphne looked on, ignoring the other servants waiting for their effects while watching her open it.
A slip of paper inside had been written upon with a neat, scrawling hand.
I do not know if doing this will help me sleep better or not. But I would rather try than go on cowering another second. You can rely on me.
-C
Olivia awoke in an instant, her body jolting as she sped toward consciousness and away from the hellish nightmare that had just gripped her. Her brow was damp with sweat, her limbs trembling as she blinked to allow her eyes to adjust to the near-darkness of the room. It was the middle of the night, and they could not have slept more than a few hours. The meager moonlight streaming through the slightly parted drapes allowed her to see that nothing lurked about in the shadows, waiting to jump out at her. Her chest heaved as she took a deep breath, fighting to calm her racing heart and the panic welling up from the depths of her gut.
I am Olivia Goodall … I am home in London with my family, and Niall is here with me … my daughter is safe, we will keep her safe … it is over …
Squeezing her eyes shut for a moment, she clung to what was real, what was true. The dream had been as vivid as the ones before it had been—the demon terrorizing her, Mother Dragon berating her, a river of black tears. It had felt so real, she could swear she still smelled the blood, still feel its slickness on her thighs.
Niall shifted on the bed beside her and sat up, brought awake by her sudden movement. His hand was heavy but reassuring between her shoulder blades, and she could feel the weight of his stare upon her in the dark.
“What is it,mo gradh?” he asked, his voice thick and heavy from sleep. “Another nightmare?”
She gathered her knees and hugged them against her chest with a shudder. “Yes. The same one … always the same one.”
He wrapped both arms around her and hauled her to him, until she sat between his parted legs, her body cradled in the shelter of his. She turned her face into his chest, resting against him, waiting for the trembling of her body and the pounding of her heart to stop. He understood her need, remaining silent and holding her as she untangled her reality from the terror of her nightmare, reminding herself of what had passed, and what she had now. It was far easier to do than it would have been without Niall, his warmth and closeness, the sound of his breath ringing out in the silent room in unison with hers.
I am safe … I am safe … I am safe.
She repeated the words to herself, until her heartbeat slowed to match the cadence of the intonation. Only when she felt as if she could speak without falling into a fit of tears and sobs did she lift her head and seek out his gaze in the dark.
“It still hurts, Niall,” she murmured. “As much as it ever did. I do not know if it will ever stop. Even after I’ve defeated the withdrawal, at times like this, the craving for laudanum is as strong as ever. Just thinking about it … I can practically taste it, and its scent is permanently imprinted upon my senses. My belly aches for it.”
He tightened his hold on her, kissing the top of her head. “I dinnae know how to make this stop for ye,mo gradh.I wish I knew how to take it away.”
He kissed her brow, then the space between her eyebrows, then her nose, his fingertips gently lifting her chin to tip her head back for him. His lips sought hers, and she clung to him, returning his kiss with a fervor born of her need to chase something else, to find succor in him instead of that dreadful poison. Her stomach quivered, the gnawing hunger for it unlike any other craving.
“I hate the way it feels,” she whispered between the meetings of their lips. “I hate how hard I must fight what I cannot control, when there’s a part of me that always wants to give in. Tonight, that part seems stronger than ever.”
It went unsaid that perhaps it was that way because of the events of the evening, the revelations that had been made. Telling her story again, hearing about the other child of Bertram’s that had never lived, witnessing Cassandra’s agony … it had torn open something inside of her, something dark and ugly, something she had defeated and locked way that was now intent upon making a resurgence.
“I’m here,mo gradh,” he said, stroking her cheek, then the line of her jaw. “Just tell me what ye need … tell me what to do.”
Turning to face him on her knees, she clutched at his neck, pulling him to her so their foreheads touched. She held him tight, afraid if she let go, she might crumble. She focused upon the sound of his breath, the scent of him, the warmth radiating from his body in the chilled room.
“Make me feel something else,” she whispered. “Make it so that I can only see you, hear you, taste you, feel you … crave you. Please, Niall. I don’t want to fight or try to control it anymore. I need you to make me forget it altogether.”
She felt his penetrating stare through the dark, seeking and searching as he turned her words over in his mind. Shivering in his hold, she could only wait for him to understand, to go against the urge to coddle and comfort her, when what she wanted was for him to obliterate her senses, fill her so completely with himself that she forgot everything else.
