How the devil was he going to let her know what he’d done? Where would he find the words?I’m sorry, darling, but it seems I may have killed the man you initially wanted to marry. Or.My apologies, but it looks like Timothy’s dead because of me.
He groaned. She’d never forgive him. Never. How could she when she’d loved Timothy so dearly and Devlin had been the one to destroy her life? He’d ruined everything for her and, he reminded himself, for Penelope too. He’d caused the death of her father.
“Christ!”
Without even thinking he smashed his fist into the side of a barrel. There was something immensely satisfying about the sting it brought to his knuckles. He stood. Lifted the barrel onto the crate on which he’d been sitting, and punched it again and again and again. And then, when his flesh was raw and his blood stained the deck, he allowed himself to expel the pain and the anger he harbored inside in a primitive roar.
If anyone heard him, they stayed away. Which was just as well considering his current state of self-loathing. The very devil himself would probably find his mood unsettling. Dear God. For thirteen years he’d lived with the guilt of Ludlow’s death but this…Good God…this was a thousand times worse. Because now he was able to point to concrete examples of what the consequences had been – the lives he’d ruined. And the pain was only exacerbated by his love for Cassandra and Penelope. He wanted to protect them, not hurt them. And yet he had. He’d hurt them before he’d even met them. He’d…he’d…
Another ferocious growl tore its way out of his throat as he snatched up his glass and flung it straight at the hull. It shattered, the sound too weak, too lacking. Breathing raggedly, he stared at the mess he’d made. He’d clean it up. No one else should have to do it. Not to mention he’d rather not leave his anguish on public display.
Crouching, he began to gather the pieces.Useless, his father had said years earlier before Devlin left home.A disgrace to this family.
Devlin grunted. The duke had had no idea. None whatsoever. The worst had been yet to come. He winced as a shard broke his skin, then smiled because heaven knew he deserved it. The bell sounded, signaling that his next shift would begin in only two hours. Once again he wouldn’t sleep. Not with the weight of the world bearing down on his chest.
Straightening himself, he swayed a little, waited for his eyes to focus and his head to clear. And then he grabbed the bottle he’d brought along with him and made his way up through the ship, each step a dull thud that would bring him closer to hell.
Because he had to tell her. And he had to do it now.
Before he decided to do something awful like hide it from her forever.
She had a right to know what had happened.
It was the only honorable path forward. And he had no choice but to take it.
For the tenthtime that day, Cassandra considered taking the risk of facing Devlin. She was sick to death of hiding away in her cabin and in desperate need of fresh air. She was also weary of the rift between them and wished they could go back to how things had been before they argued. It occurred to her that she missed him. In a way, he was more than her husband. He was, first and foremost, her best friend, and she realized she longed for his company.
Deciding to act, Cassandra dressed. It had become quite clear that Devlin would not be the one extending an olive branch, so it would have to be her. It wasn’t ideal, but it was past time. Five days past, she acknowledged with a sharp nod at herself in the mirror. Grabbing a shawl, she strode to the door. And was forced to jump back when it swung toward her.
As if summoned by her sense of purpose, Devlin appeared. He did not look his best, she noted, and although it occurred to her that she ought to take some small pleasure in knowing she had not been the only one to suffer, she did not. Because on closer inspection, he looked far worse than she felt. He seemed tortured in a soul crushing way that instantly put her on edge.
“Cass.” His voice was tired and…resigned?
She attempted a smile in spite of the worry creeping up through her limbs. “I was on my way to find you.” His eyes seemed to stare straight through her. “I’d like to apologize for—”
A derisive snort cut her off, then he pushed his way forward, entering the cabin and shutting the door. “Apologize,” he murmured, then snorted again. He shook his head while she stared at him, unsure how to handle this strange mood of his.
“You have nothing to apologize for, Cass.” He swept past her and sat, even though she still stood. And then he dropped his head heavily into his hands and let out a tortured sigh. “I, on the other hand, have everything to be sorry for.”
Well. That seemed rather dramatic. She twisted her lips in thought, drew a deep breath and prepared to say something, though she wasn’t sure what. Except…
With a gasp she rushed forward and fell to her knees before him. “What on earth happened to your knuckles, Dev?”
Lowering his hands, he turned them over and studied the bloodied flesh. “Self-flagellation.” His voice contained a terrifying lack of emotion.
“Why?” She could barely get the question past her lips. How could her confession have made him angry enough to do this to himself? How could she have driven him to such violence? It seemed impossible. Frightening.
He just sat there. Utterly silent. Until she could stand it no longer. She had to say something. For heaven’s sake, she’d decided she would apologize to him and so she would.
She started by taking a deep inhalation. And then she said, “I’m sorry it took me as long as it did for me to put Timothy behind me.” Needing closeness, she placed one hand on his thigh and continued. “I knew you wouldn’t like learning about the vow, and I’m sorry it made you angry, but I’ve been speaking those words every night since the day he died and I just…” She swallowed. “I needed time to change the habit, to move on and accept that my loyalties have shifted.” She bit her lip and quietly added, “My heart has shifted too. I didn’t expect it to happen, and I’m not sure when it did precisely, but I—”
“Don’t.”
She blinked. Her heart began to tremble. “What?”
“I can’t bear for you to end that sentence. Not now. Not when you don’t know who you’re really married to.” He sounded both angry and pained. Tormented in a way she’d never experienced him before.
“You’re not making any sense, Dev.”
