An Impossible Choice (All Things Possible Book 1) Page 9
“I thought,” Argel blurted out, “you said you had come for what he stole from you, for justice.”
“I did. I had. That was my full intention, and as I told you, I don’t sway from my course once I set it.”
“But this time you did.” She sounded confused.
“Yes,” Damon muttered, keeping his eyes on his injured hand.
“Why?”
Why. “Because, I met you Argel,” he tersely replied, finally looking up at her then. At the shock on her face, his voice softened. “Your goodness, your kindness, your beauty…you were everything I’d ever wanted. Everything I’d never possessed. You have a power over me, Argel, and I realized the moment I learned you were his niece that I wanted you more than I wanted to see justice done to your uncle. That night I offered you a choice, I already knew I would forgive your uncle’s debt either way. I could never hurt you by sending him to prison.”
Argel’s brown eyes had grown round with each word he spoke, her lips parting in surprise. “So then…why force me to marry? To leave my home?”
Ah. The dreaded heart of the issue.
His chest constricted at the sheen in her eyes, at the words she spoke. “Pendenny suspected you were the lost daughter of Viscount Rainsford. I feared your uncle was scheming somehow for your inheritance, putting your precious life at risk. I still have my doubts as to his denial of kidnapping you. I had to make your uncle believe there was still a possibility of prison. I didn’t trust him not to try and sneak you away with him unless I made you a part of the bargain as well. I didn’t wait to marry you in Beddgelert because I didn’t want to wait for the priest to make his rounds—it was too much of a risk.”
She simply stared at him in disbelief.
“Argel,” he rushed on in desperation, “I would have asked you to marry me regardless. The night before, under the tree…you can believe everything I said, just as you can now. I wish things had transpired differently, but know that I did everything for your protection.” He couldn’t speak of the other reason for his actions. Not yet, if ever.
Silence.
Argel nodded slowly, but said nothing as she stood.
“Argel,” Damon stood quickly, reaching for her hand. If only he could make her understand.
Ignoring it, she clutched her robe closed again, much to Damon’s relief. “I…have a lot to think on. I believe I-I will retire now to bed.” Suddenly, her eyes shot to his, aware of what she’d just said.
Despite their serious situation, a gentle smile slowly spread across Damon’s face. “Argel, I promised you time—and I keep my promises.”
“So…you won’t be sleeping here then?” She sounded somewhat relieved.
“I didn’t say that. I built this house long after deciding to never marry, so I never had a separate lady’s chamber built. Never thought there’d be a need. No, this room is ours. You are my wife now, and I won’t let you out of my sight.”
“Oh.” She hesitated. “Well, then, which side is yours?”
Damon cocked a brow, “Pardon?”
“Which side…of the bed?” Argel looked extremely uncomfortable.
He chuckled a low rumble. “Argel, love, I will sleep on this sofa,” Damon nodded to one across from the bed. “Beats the floor any day.” He smiled before turning serious, “Argel, wife, I need you to understand this: I told you I want you…in every way. But I won’t have your body without your heart.” He paused as he slowly stepped towards her, tipping her chin up to look at him. “I promised you that I would be patient, and I’m afraid were we to share a bed, I would be most tempted to break that promise.”
Slowly, he trailed a finger down her cheek, across her lips, his blood pulsing with her sharp intake of breath. “These flowers are to be a reminder of that promise. As long as there are flowers on the earth, I will never stop loving you. But remember, where you are concerned, I am not a patient man.” He seared her with his eyes before playfully giving her nose a tweak and turning for the sofa. “Goodnight wife. Oh, and Argel? I’ve important business in London that I must see to. I’ve been gone too long already. We will leave tomorrow and should be there for a few weeks. We must see to it that you have some new dresses made while we’re there. Whatever you desire.”
His new wife said nothing, the snuffing of a candle her only reply. But he’d caught a glimpse of the surprise on her face just before the room was shrouded in darkness.
Damon made himself comfortable on the sofa, as much as was possible, and grinned.
Chapter Seven
Argel had stared out the window for most of the trip to London, drinking in the sight of every new countryside and town. With every mile came the thought, Now—this is the furthest I’ve ever been from home.
They were coming into London now, and her face was pinned to the glass. She’d never seen so many people or carriages or buildings. It was all so fascinating, and truth be told, a little overwhelming. How would she, a country girl from Wales, be able to survive in such a place?
The carriage slowed with the street’s congestion and Argel finally sat back in her seat. Damon reached over to pat her hand. “’Tis quite unlike Beddgelert, is it not?”
Argel caught Mr. Pendenny’s quick glance at their hands before she turned towards Damon. “Yes,” she nodded, “most different. It’s all so very…much.”
He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze before letting go, to Argel’s surprising dismay. “Just a few more blocks and we’ll be there.”
Argel turned again to look out the window, but this time her mind remained focused on the giant of a man beside her.
Damon.
Her husband.
He had swooped down upon Beddgelert and everything had changed—her uncle was a crook, she had a new home, and she was now a married woman.
On paper, anyway.
There had been a moment last night when she thought Damon had changed his mind. She’d realized, then, that she had never fully expected him to keep his promise of patience. She had resigned herself to do her duty. She’d grown up in the country, after all, surrounded by farm animals. She knew, at least, how things worked.
And then, he’d gently reassured her. He’d kept his promise. And her traitorous heart had shocked her with disappointment. Only mild disappointment, mind you.
A greater part of her remained relieved.
But…as she stared out at endless rows of buildings now, she pondered the matter further. The man beside her was now her legal husband, but what else?
Lover? Hardly.
Acquaintance? Of course.
Friend?
Argel blinked. Friend. Was Damon her friend? Though she disagreed with his method, she now believed he’d truly had her best interest at heart all along. He’d done nothing to physically harm her—quite the opposite, in fact. He’d been very attentive and protecting.
He was also easy to talk to. She did not feel uncomfortable in his presence, especially now that she’d spent even more time traveling with him.
Friends. Perhaps they weren’t there yet, but Argel decided that was the first step she wanted to work towards.
Being trapped in Beddgelert had taught her to make the best of any situation and that’s what she resolved to do now. No matter how she got here, she was married now and she would make the best of it. She would attempt to build a friendship.
Though memories of her own parents were distorted, she could remember laughter and a sense of love between them. That’s what she’d always wanted for her own marriage.
Wynny’s voice came floating back to her then. You must tell me all about marriage, and love—
Love.
Would their marriage ever experience such a thing? Possibly not, but only time would tell. Becoming friends would be a much more attainable first step in the meantime. And a much less stressful one at that.
“At last, here we are.” Damon’s deep voice brought her out of her reverie as the carriage came to a sto
p.
Climbing out, Argel looked up to see a three-story brick building, one in a long row of several others, all of varying heights. Mr. Pendenny climbed the stone front steps ahead of her as he retrieved a bronze-colored key from his coat pocket. Argel followed next to Damon, smiling to herself as she felt his warm hand again at the small of her back. Large gold letters on the front of the black-lacquered door read W & P Enterprises.
“And he says he’s your assistant, does he?” Argel whispered to Damon, smiling.
He leaned near and the scent of sandalwood tickled her nose. “He hated that I put his name on the door, but I told him what’s done was done and it would be too costly to remove.”
“If I remember correctly,” Mr. Pendenny loudly interjected as he thrust the wooden door open, “I demanded you dock it from my pay.” He turned to face them, nodding towards Damon, “But this one’s stubborn.”
“You don’t say,” Argel smirked, causing Damon to bark in laughter. The robust sound resulted in a spreading warmth in her bosom.
Perhaps this friends things wouldn’t be so difficult after all.
Argel followed Mr. Pendenny inside and stepped into a rectangular room, perhaps on the small side, that boasted two comfortable-looking leather waiting chairs and a wooden desk that sat completely empty—nothing on it other than a few specks of dust. There were three more doors, one on either end of the oblong room and one behind the pristine desk, just off to the right.
“It’s so…clean.” Her footsteps slowly echoed on the wooden floors as she looked around, untying her frayed gray bonnet.
Damon laughed, “That’s because it’s unused. Pendenny works in there,” he nodded to a door on the left, “and my office is through here.” He guided Argel to the door in the back.
“What’s the desk in the front for, then?” She glanced behind her.
“We always intended to hire a secretary, but just never found the time. I’m at the point now, however, where I believe we must.” Damon came to a stop.
Argel stepped into his small office. “I see what you mean.” She grinned as she looked around.
Papers.
All she saw were papers. Everywhere.
The bookshelves lining the walls had stacks of them. Several littered the floor. And in the middle of the crammed room, highlighted by sunlight streaming in through the single small window, was a very large pile that Argel suspected concealed a desk underneath. The only items of furniture uncovered were three chairs: one behind the large pile and two in front. “How on earth have you been able to work like this? How are you successful?”
Damon ran a hand through his black hair, nearly bumping the ceiling in the process, causing a lock to fall down over his eyes. “I’ve never really thought about it, I suppose,” he shrugged. “It’s my…disorganized organization. I know exactly where everything is. For example—” he paused, looking around the room, “last year’s report from the Walton shipyard, fourth quarter.” He moved in front of Argel to a bookcase directly across from his desk, peered at the third shelf from the top, thumbed through the second stack of papers, and pulled out a page. “There,” he said triumphantly, presenting it for Argel’s viewing.
“Oh, dear,” she laughed, biting her lip. “And is Mr. Pendenny’s office just as…chaotic?”
“Pendenny? Chaotic? Ha! You can go look for yourself, but I can tell you there isn’t a piece of paper out of place. Not even a speck of dust. Insists on using some confounded filing system. Waste of time, I say.”
“Hmm,” she grinned, eyeing him over the report he’d handed her. “I imagine he must despise coming in here.”
“Avoids it at all costs,” Damon seriously replied, hands clasped behind his back.
Argel burst into laughter and Damon joined in when they were interrupted by a throat clearing. She turned to see Mr. Pendenny had popped his head in the door. “Must I remind you that there’s much work to be done? This deal with Lord Sumpton is the only reason I agreed to come along with you after already having been dragged to the ends of the earth and back.”
Mr. Pendenny’s dry tone caused Argel to snort in a most unladylike fashion before bursting into laughter all over again with Damon. Mr. Pendenny sighed, rolling his eyes and throwing his hands up in defeat, but Argel didn’t miss the small twitch at his lips as he turned to leave.
She liked the odd sort of group they made, Mr. Pendenny included. With friendship on her mind, she thought perhaps Wynny could soon visit and they might all get along splendidly.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Two days later, Damon was making his way up the wooden stairs from his office space below to the rooms he let out above. He had worked until precisely six o’clock as promised to his wife.
Normally, he worked until late into the evening—late enough for a gentle scolding by his housekeeper. But tonight, tonight was different. He had a whistle on his lips and a pep in his step. He could already smell another delicious supper being prepared by Mrs. Bowers, who had arrived yesterday along with Jackson, the older man who acted as his butler, his footman—everything.
Opening the door to his home away from home, he was greeted by the sight of Argel arranging the white flowers he’d had delivered earlier that day, her back towards him. She stood at the small brown table in the entryway and quickly turned at hearing the door click—and his breath stuck.
“Good evening, Damon,” she smiled as she quickly looked down and smoothed her skirts.
He simply stood there blinking, unable to respond. How long he stared, he wasn’t sure. Had time in fact stopped?
Say something, fool!
“Erm.”
Brilliant, Shakespeare.
“I must thank you for the flowers, again, though it truly isn’t necessary to send them every day. I’d hate to waste—” she paused and he watched as a blush began to fill her cheeks. “Oh,” she looked down at her skirts, “you don’t like it. I was afraid it was too much, but the dressmaker assured me it was the latest fashion.”
“No,” Damon began hoarsely. He swallowed and tried again. “No, you look…you look…” he stepped towards her as his sweeping gaze took her in, “absolutely beautiful.” He paused just in front of her, reaching to gently finger a loose tendril near her face while ignoring the warning sounding in his head to not move too fast.
Indeed, she did look stunning in a simple blue muslin gown. The high waist set off her figure, making her appear even more a grown woman than her worn, outdated dresses had—though he’d thought her just a beautiful in them as well. This new dress, however, gave her a fashionable appearance he hadn’t quite been prepared for.
Reddening under his scrutiny, she bit her lip and turned away. “This one arrived this morning along with a few others. The rest will take longer to finish—I was surprised she had even this one completed after only a day. There’s many, many more I’m afraid. And hats and gloves and stockings and…well, I insisted I did not need so many things, but Mr. Pendenny ordered it all to be made, you see.”
Her back to him now, Damon stepped even closer and lowered his head to her bent neck, breathing in her own fragrance. “That was exactly what I wanted, Argel,” he murmured as he closed his eyes, breathing. He had been unable to leave his work yesterday, sending Pendenny to accompany her to the dressmaker’s instead. Pendenny was his eyes and ears, enabling him to keep his promise not to let Argel out of his sight.
“But…the cost,” she whispered.
“The cost,” he said softly as he turned Argel to face him, “is nothing. I told you, I’m a wealthy man in my own right.”
“You… I…” Argel mumbled as her gaze lifted slowly, resting on his mouth. Without warning, she licked her lips, causing Damon to forget all about promises and caution.
Instinctively, his head slowly dipped to hers as she closed her eyes. She swayed closer, just slightly, and he could feel her warm breath on his face as he was nearly—
“Supper’s ready!”
Argel was breathing rapidly, a hand to her chest. He had scared her. He should have known better than to try and kiss her so soon after his disaster of a proposal and forced nuptials. He frowned in frustration, feeling more than a little guilty over nearly breaking his promise. “Yes, well then,” he cleared his throat and proffered his arm, “perhaps we’d better…”
“Yes, perhaps we’d better.” Avoiding his eyes, she nodded and went with him into the dining room, where the table was filled with several delicious looking dishes.
Despite his great disappointment, his stomach rumbled at the sight: a steaming pot of chestnut soup, beef-steaks and gravy, various vegetables in a butter sauce, bread, and a splendid presentation of iced oranges and strawberries for dessert. “You’ve outdone yourself again, Mrs. Bowers,” Damon called out as he pulled out a chair for Argel.
“Oh, hush, ’tis nothing,” the housekeeper popped her head out from the kitchen door, waving a towel at him, an embarrassed grin on her face.
He smiled again as he sat down across the table from Argel and quietly studied her in the candlelight. Despite what just happened, or rather didn’t happen, he felt a contentment with her here that he’d never before known in his life. His conquests, his endeavors over the years had brought him satisfaction, yes, but this new-found feeling suddenly made him consider the possibility that he had been missing something important in his life all along.
“How have things gone with Mrs. Bowers and Jackson today?” he asked as they began to eat, not willing to ponder the matter at the moment.
“Oh, very well. She’s been so kind to me and more than willing to discuss your household affairs.” She glanced up before taking another bite and smiled, “I was afraid she would resent me, showing up as quickly as I did, but she seems most glad to hand me the reigns of management.”