Page 70 of The Duke of Pain

He kissed her forehead affectionately. “Good. I don’t want normal. If our life together resembles a fairy story or one of those outrageous penny novels, all the better.”

Olivia stood on the tips of her toes and kissed him. Gideon groaned and took the kiss deeper. When she flinched, he stepped back.

“Sorry, love.” His thumb brushed by her cut lip. “Someone will pay for this, I vow it.”

Olivia hugged him tightly. The faint scent of sandalwood soap filled her nostrils. Comfort, warmth, and solid strength.

That was Gideon.

He had given her everything without question, especially his heart, soul, his trust, and love, and yet, she had doubted him.

Pain laced through her.

“Gideon, please try to understand. It is not so much that I didn’t trust you. I did not trust my own feelings. I eventually accepted the explanation that you tossed me aside; because isn’t that what men do? At least, the ones I allowed myself to love. Yes, I lumped you in with my miserable vicar father, and I was wrong to do so.”

“Liv—”

“No, let me continue. I accepted the blow of your supposed rejection so I could move on. I was beginning to doubt that I would ever be able to love with my whole heart. Could I ever trust a man not to hurt me again?”

She let out a shaky breath. “If there is any man I wish to love and trust with my entire being, it is you, Gideon. The hole in my heart left by my father and my attackers—past and present—will mend. You will be the healer. The damage to my trust will also be restored. Only with you.”

“God, I love you.”

Gideon swept her up into a devastatingly passionate, yet gentle kiss. How long it went on, Olivia had no idea. He laid soft kisses on her forehead once again.

“My love, my mother, and stepfather are no better; in fact, they are worse,” he said in a quiet, solemn voice. “The cold, indifferent Lord Craven you met that first night was molded in ice. I knew no other way.”

Gideon caressed her cheek. “You see, I refer to myself as the Duke of Pain in my more maudlin moments. Pain from my father dying far too young, that my mother never loved me or showed me any affection. Pain at the verbal and physical beatings I was subjected to by my stepfather that were sanctioned by my mother. I did not feel anything but pain—until you. Whinstone married my mother for position and money—not love. I’ll be damned if I will live my life like that. I knew nothing of love—until you.”

A lump formed in her throat.

His words. The Duke of Pain.

Oh, her heart broke for him at that confession. What he had endured.

Olivia clasped his hand and kissed it. “We truly are broken, are we not?”

Gideon kissed the top of her head. “Not anymore. Not as long as we are together.”

“Take me home,” she whispered, tears welling in her eyes.

* * *

He paced the floor, recalling his conversation with Olivia on the carriage ride home. She told him the men who had abducted her were rough-looking and speaking, just the type his stepfather kept around. Louts and bullies to a fault. He laughed when she told him her names for them: “Yellow Teeth and Wool Trousers.”

The situation itself, however, was far from humorous.

Gideon’s blood still boiled that Olivia had been subjected to such patent cruelty. She had apologized for doubting him again, but he waved it off. While a part of him ached that she had believed the lies, however briefly, another part completely understood the reasons for her suspicions.

It was time to forgive and embrace life fully.

When he arrived home, there was a note from The Galway Agency, saying their associate was already on-route to Essex to begin surveillance on Whinstone. Also, Christian was making inquiries on the Whinstone dukedom. So far, his friend had hit a brick wall as if there was a barrier of protection around it. Which meant there must be some sort of scandal that was tucked away. The peerage certainly knew how to protect one another, even from each other.

But Gideon had more pressing matters to attend to.

Olivia.

He found her sitting in her adjoining room, sitting at the dressing table brushing her damp hair. She had just had a long relaxing bath and was wearing one of his dressing gowns.