An Impossible Choice (All Things Possible Book 1) Page 13

  “There was an afternoon show. I don’t even remember the play, but for some unknown reason, I walked in and sat down. I’d never been one for such frivolous things before—even our outings these past few weeks have been most uncharacteristic for me.”

  Damon paused and sighed. “But it was there that I saw her. She was an actress—quite beautiful and alluring to my twenty-year-old, practically-minded self. I waited around to speak with her when the show was over. She said all the right things, acted the right way, enough that I believed she was flattered by my attentions, that I was special. She must have been at least five years my senior, but she had a worldliness about her, and that experience was beguiling to me.

  “I was smitten,” he continued, “returning every night for a show, bringing her gifts, flowers, visiting her afterwards. I believed myself to be in love and thought the feeling was mutual. The closest I’d ever come to knowing love before was by my uncle—though I know his affection likely stemmed out of guilt he felt towards my mother. I was completely alone now, looking to fill the void.

  “We spoke of marriage, she and I, and I even put her up in a small set of rooms—much better than the horrid one she kept behind the theatre.”

  Argel, who had been listening with rapt attention, sat up fully then, realizing this actress, whoever she was, likely had been given something she herself had not been ready to accept, until now—Damon, fully and completely, body and soul. She wasn’t naive enough to think that he’d never before been with a woman. He was thirty-two years old and devilishly handsome. Even in Wales, men weren’t held to the same high standards as the women. But to have it confirmed, just when she was becoming aware of her own feelings…

  The revelation startled her. She knew she was growing affectionate towards him, but the realization that someone else had once held all of his love made her burn inside fiercer than any flame—and Argel knew about fire. “Were you…lovers?”

  Must the strain in her voice be so obvious?

  He shifted away from her in apparent discomfort and Argel immediately felt the loss of his arm about her. “Yes,” he cleared his throat, “if you could call it such. That is, until one evening, I’d left the office early and made my way to see her. There was no answer at her door, so I let myself in as I had on countless occasions, deciding to wait for her to return. When I entered, I could hear voices coming from the back room. I stopped to listen, when a gentleman stepped out, his clothes askew. He gave me a sordid grin and walked past me without a word.” Argel watched his hands clench into fists. “She stepped out then, and at least had the decency to look ashamed at being caught.

  “We didn’t argue. I was too furious for words, felt too betrayed. I simply tossed my key on the table and left. Never heard from her again. I thought I had pursued what I wanted and won—that by being lovers I had made her mine, but I was wrong. I was a fool.” He spoke the last words quietly before his voice returned with determined strength. “And so, I vowed never again. Never again would I lose my heart. And I kept that vow until the day I met you, Argel.” He turned to face her in the faint light, though they sat a space apart now. “I wanted you from the moment I met you—all of you. I knew I must have you for my wife, I could never be satisfied with a mistress. I refuse to settle ever again for less, which is why I will continue to be patient…even if it kills me.”

  Argel’s breathing slowed as the import of all he’d just spoken her settled on her heart. Jealousy was swiftly replaced by pain—pain for Damon and his lifelong quest to find love and acceptance. Her eyes then grew round as a new realization dawned within. “Not my body without my heart,” she whispered, recalling the words he’d spoken to her on their wedding night.

  “And that’s why,” his gruff voice reached her ears, “I have decided to move to the spare room. I don’t know how much more I can take…and after last night…” He let out a heavy sigh as he ran a firm hand down his face. “I won’t break my promise to you, Argel.”

  Damon paused and Argel suddenly felt his large hand cradle her cheek. She closed her eyes against the warmth. She believed him. He would never break his promise…anything more would be left to her to decide.

  “I love you, Argel.”

  Her eyes popped open at the deep, gently spoken words and shot to his own. His dark brow was pulled down into a stern V, his expression most serious. “Damon, I—”

  Just then, the carriage came to a stop as they had arrived at home. Argel sighed in frustration as the footman opened the door. It constantly seemed that every time progress was being made in their relationship, an interruption followed.

  Quietly, she climbed out into the dark street, noticing Damon’s expression looked quite sad rather than the usual sternness she saw. Silently, she took his arm as they slowly climbed the steps to his office. It seemed that time was slowing down immensely—or there were double the number of steps than there were before. At last, they reached the designated door. Despite her turmoil of emotions, or perhaps because of them, the hairs on the back of her neck stood up suddenly and her arms turned to gooseflesh as Damon worked to unlock the door.

  Distracted, she quickly glanced up and down the sidewalk as the driver pulled away, but saw no one else about. This wasn’t the first time she’d felt this way since arriving in London—as if she were being watched. She had often had the very same sensation on quite a few of their many outings, but had attributed it to the crowds. However, tonight, other than the fog rolling in, they were clearly alone.

  Street lanterns were placed just far enough apart to leave gaps of darkness in between the illuminated mist. She wished Damon would hurry with that door. Peering out into the darkness, she thought for a moment she saw a shadow—movement.

  Argel blinked and shook her head. Perhaps it was nothing. Simply her emotions playing tricks on her mind, all due to the thoughts running through her head now.

  Those thoughts returned to focus fully on the man before her as at last she followed him into the dark office. Fog and shadows forgot, suddenly Argel knew she did not want to go upstairs where Jackson or Mrs. Bowers could interrupt or listen in. Not at all. Her heart felt as if it would burst if she let another minute go by without telling her husband how she truly felt—at last.

  “Damon, wait.” She caught his arm just before he opened the door to the stairs.

  Slowly, he turned towards her, his expression appearing to be as equally troubled as her heart.

  “I need to… I don’t want to be interrupted and…” Oh, she was muddling this up!

  He simply stood there as a towering giant, glowing in the moonlight that poured in through the front window and waited.

  She took a deep breath, her heart pounding, “I…don’t want you to sleep elsewhere, Damon. I—”

  His face strained with what Argel could only describe as visible pain, “Argel, holding you last night… I cannot suffer through even one more night like that. I’ll wait for you, but I—”

  “Damon, you don’t understand,” she shook her head. “I want you to stay with me because… I want you, Damon. All of you. Because, after last night, I finally realized that you do have my heart—all of it. You’ve had it all along, from the moment I first chose you under that tree in Beddgelert. It just took me some time to realize that, to see that you were a man of your word, that you wouldn’t end up a fraud like my uncle. It took me time to trust.”

  The words had spilled forth so quickly. She had been afraid she would lose her resolve if she stopped. But there they were, all out in the open now.

  Her heart pounded in her ears.

  She thought he’d be thrilled—something, anything other than simply standing still, staring at her with a guarded expression.

  But, she’d spoken her heart. She would not take it back now, even if she could.

  The pounding continued, drowning out any other sound.

  And then, he blinked.

  For just a second, the briefest measurement of time, his
guard fell away and she saw the pain, disbelief, and uncertainty laid bare before her in his dark eyes. And just as quickly, the shutters fell back into place as his eyes narrowed, once again unreadable.

  Slowly, she reached out to touch him, gently placing her hand on his arm. “Damon, I am your wife and I willingly give myself to you—body and heart. Because…I love you.”

  Argel took a step closer, stood on the tips of her toes and reached her hand up to his face. As so often before, he caught it, bringing her wrist to his lips as he placed a gentle kiss there—though his guarded expression told her he was still unconvinced.

  She pulled it away, instead grasping his large hand within both of her own, bringing it to her own lips. As she pressed a slow kiss to his knuckle, she began reciting the words of her groom from the day they were made husband and wife: “With this ring, I thee wed.” Slowly, she pressed her lips to the next knuckle, “With my body, I thee worship.” His hand gripped hers tightly as she continued on to the next, “And with all my worldly goods, I thee endow.” Kiss. “In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.”

  Argel pressed one final kiss to his hand, when it suddenly turned, firmly clasping either side of her chin, bringing her head up sharply to face her husband. The guard he so often hid behind was gone. What she saw in his eyes nearly stopped the rapid beating of her heart.

  Love, pure and bright, shown there—mingled with no small amount of raw desire.

  In a flash, his lips met her own, crushing, loving, searching—their hearts making their own declarations without words.

  As Argel reached her arms up around his neck, Damon drew her close, deepening the kiss, pressing her against his firm chest. She clung tightly, never wanting to let go.

  He began walking her backwards, his lips never leaving her own, until they reached the empty desk and she felt herself being laid upon it, finally breaking her contact with Damon.

  The distance…it was too much. Argel reached for his jacket and pulled him down to her. He braced himself against the desk, his body bent above her own. She could feel one hand clasping her waist as his lips continued their work, moving away from her mouth to her jaw, then slowly blazing a trail of fire down her throat, scorching every place they touched.

  She gasped at the new and intoxicating sensations and her fingers dug into his hair as his head bent lower, lower still, while his hand about her waist began snaking its way up. So many new feelings flooded her mind, but one rose above all others. In this moment, with this man, the most powerful sensation Argel felt was joy. Pure joy—with her husband.

  A thunderous bang accompanied by the sound of splintering wood caused Argel to jump, a high-pitched yelp on her lips. What—

  Damon’s movements had stilled. She looked over to the hand that he had supported himself with beside her head. It now sat curled into a fist, inside a small dent in the damaged wood. Her husband stared down at her, looking positively like a wild man as he worked his jaw. “Not here,” he rasped. Raising a shaky finger, he pointed above him, “Up…bed…now.”

  Without another word, Argel was lifted into his arms as he made for the stairs. She clasped her arms tightly about his neck, burying her face there, breathing in the scent of him. She began to place slow, methodical kisses there, murmuring in her pleasure, when her captor let out a primal growl and bounded up the stairs two at a time.

  Reaching their lodging, Damon kicked the door open, apparently not caring if Jackson or Mrs. Bowers heard—Argel knew she didn’t—when her husband suddenly froze.

  “Damon, what—?”

  “Argel!”

  Wait. She knew that voice.

  Argel’s head shot up as Damon gently set her on her feet before she flew into outstretched arms. “Wynny!”

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  Damon gulped air, seeking to slow his racing pulse, but to no avail. He ran an agitated hand through his hair as he looked from his very un-ravished wife to Miss Hughes to… Pendenny? It wouldn’t take him long to decide who to kill—he had two choices.

  Was this to be their life? The constant interruptions?

  Just moments ago, after he had nearly given up all hope, Argel had declared her love, her desire to truly be his wife and to give him the very thing he wanted most—all of her. And he had brought her upstairs because he’d wanted everything to be perfect—for her.

  Fool.

  They should have remained downstairs.

  He cleared his throat, interrupting the tearful reunion of friends, “I thought you weren’t arriving for two more days.”

  Miss Hughes triumphantly lifted her head, beaming, “I left as soon as I received your letter, traveling as quickly as possible. Made it in record time, or so I’m told.”

  “How…fortunate,” he flatly replied.

  “You mean, you did this?” Argel looked up at him with such surprise and gratitude, it almost made up for the great disappointment he’d just endured.

  Almost.

  “He wrote to me just after you’d arrived in London.” Miss Hughes wasted no time in telling her side of the story. “Said he wanted to surprise you—so, here I am! And how fortunate was I to run into Titus here as he was leaving the office. I was unsure if I had the right address until I saw him. He was kind enough to show me up here.” Miss Hughes gave Pendenny a generous look of admiration—while the man had a ridiculous smile painted on his face, his eyes gleaming behind the false spectacles.

  Damon swiped his mouth in frustration. He now knew which one to kill.

  “When did you arrive?” Argel asked as she squeezed her friend’s hands.

  Suddenly, Damon’s own felt so very empty.

  “Just after six o’clock.”

  “You mean,” Damon looked to Pendenny, “that the two of you have been sitting here, waiting for us, since six o’clock? It’s past two in the morning!”

  Pendenny reddened as Miss Hughes eagerly filled them in on all they had missed. “Oh, not to worry, Titus here has kept me entertained with countless stories. Mrs. Bowers, kind woman, fixed us supper and tea, showed me my room… Oh, we’ll have such a grand time! Won’t we, Argel?”

  Doubtful.

  “Oh, yes!” Argel beamed as Damon fumed inside. “Oh, Wynny, I’ve missed you so! Come, tell me all about your travels and what I’ve missed in Beddgelert.” She turned, drawing her friend towards the parlor, but not before giving Damon an apologetic glance that spoke volumes of her regret.

  That helped to ease his jealous spirit enough that he could at least look at Pendenny now without actually throttling him. Wanting to throttle him, however, was another matter entirely. He cleared his throat, “I never dreamed Miss Hughes would arrive this quickly.”

  “I know. Splendid, isn’t it?” Pendenny’s grin never wavered. The man practically had it carved in place.

  “It’s just, the timing—” Damon huffed out a breath.

  “What? What are you talking about?” Pendenny looked to him, still beaming relentlessly.

  “Nothing,” Damon muttered. “I’m tired. You go join the ladies. Give them my apologies, but I’m going to bed.”

  “Whatever you say, boss.” His associate winked and turned to the parlor, whistling as he went.

  Damon rolled his eyes and slowly climbed the stairs to the next floor. He paused in near agony upon entering his room, the empty bed seeming to mock him now. As he thought on his wife and guest below, he knew without a doubt that the moment had passed.

  There was nothing for it. Miss Hughes now occupied the one spare room left. He could sleep in the parlor, but he had a feeling it would be preoccupied for hours to come.

  He silently readied for bed and made his way over to the sofa where he would spend another night. Tonight it seemed especially difficult to get comfortable. Slumping down, the makeshift bed creaked beneath his weight, but eventually Damon drifted off to sleep.

  Chapter Ten

  Damon gruffly made his way downst
airs to his office for another day’s work, shoving a piece of dry toast in his mouth that Mrs. Bowers had insisted he eat.

  Three days.

  It had been three long, agonizing days since their guest had arrived, since he’d had even a moment alone with Argel.

  The morning after Miss Hughes’s arrival, he had awoken on the confounded sofa to find Argel already gone. She had even stayed up late every night since visiting with her friend, not coming to their room until long after Damon had given up and fallen asleep. Even on Sunday, somehow Miss Hughes had finagled her way to sit in between them on the pew—he’d had to listen to her screeching voice over Argel’s angelic one as they had sung hymns.

  But it was not only Argel who was preoccupied. He and Pendenny had been busy working on the deal with Sumpton that was turning out to be more difficult to close than they had first anticipated. They had also visited a handful of businesses and scheduled several meetings with other clients. He had done all he could to stay preoccupied himself while Argel spent every morning working in the office and every afternoon on outings with her friend. He was beginning to begrudge said friend for her presence, though it was he who brought her here in the first place.

  Damon sighed as he turned the knob to the door at the bottom of the stairs. How could his plan have backfired so terribly?

  “Good morning,” Argel’s voice sang out as she greeted him from behind the front desk, her warm smile soothing his ill mood.

  “Good morning, Argel,” he replied, unable to keep from smiling himself as she extended her hand to him for a kiss, keeping her part of their agreement for her employment. He clasped it tightly, holding it to his lips far longer than usual, relishing the brief moment they had alone.