Willoughby 03 - A Rogue's Deadly Redemption (19 page)

The knock on the door was just loud enough for Robert to hear. He scrutinized the sketches spread out on the bed. A mix of Lily’s beautiful, expressive face, her eyes, her curves…and the harsh reality of the banknotes. It was an odd parallel of the areas of his life that kept offering more and more questions, but very little answers.

Another knock came, an echo louder than the previous, and Robert pushed the pages into a pile, hiding the incriminating ones. He walked to the door, opened it.

There she stood, her hands clasped in front of her, a candlelight outline around her. Her lower lip was curved in, as though she were biting it. Nervous.

He didn’t think. He tugged her close and bent down to capture the tortured lip in his own. Gave it the loving attention it deserved.

Her instant response, the way she leaned her whole body against his hardened him, directed any good intentions straight to his groin and Robert struggled to remember he was in hostile territory with Lily’s family waiting to yank her away.

He scanned her up-turned face. “Have they convinced you I’m worthless?”

Her nose scrunched, and she shook her head. “Do not say such things.”

Robert’s gaze swerved to the bed and the evidence atop it. “There are things I need to tell you.”

Panic lit in her eyes. “Has…being here brought back a memory?”

He frowned. “No. Should it? I had gained the impression I didn’t spend much time here.”

“No, you didn’t.” Lily’s head tilted down and she slipped out of his arms and moved into the room. Her gaze stopped on the bed. “Do you…did you remember drawing them?”

Robert couldn’t shake the feeling they were dancing around what they really needed to say.

He needed to tell her the truth. What did she need to tell him?

“Lily.”

Her gaze snapped to his, and he could see the swirl of emotion in her wide eyes. “Yes?”

“We need to have a frank discussion.”

Guilt, relief or a mix of both flooded her eyes. “We do.” She took a deep breath. “Can it be tomorrow?”

The request surprised him. He thought she’d want everything on the table.

And then it hit.

Whatever
she
had to tell him, she was afraid would change things.

He knew this, because it was exactly how he felt, exactly why he couldn’t find the words to tell her what Edwin had told him. To tell her who her husband really was. He wasn’t ready to lose her.

“Tomorrow then.”

One more day. Then tomorrow, he would tell her everything then. Or the next day. But now…

She stepped toward him, and her need mirrored his own. Her desire was clear. This night, for a myriad of reasons, could very well be the last one they shared in this way.

He would take any moments he could. He led her to the bed. He was careful to move the stack of papers to a chair. He wanted nothing to halt this moment.

Words didn’t need to be said, but instead they spoke with movement. With kisses. Caresses. They spoke silently of their love, underscored by a line of desperate need to be as close as they could. Their movements became frantic, a need to touch, to be touched, to be connected.

When finally, they came together as one, Robert felt such a rush of love for the woman in his arms. She gave him a sense of peace in his heart he never wanted to lose.

He fitted his body to hers as their breath slowed, their heartbeats softened, and he gathered her in his arms and pulled her against his chest. Lily drew lazy circles on his chest, but didn’t speak.

But, eventually the words not being said began to fill the room with expectation.

“Have you tried to draw? Like those sketches?” Lily asked.

The question jarred him. “Not yet.” Could he duplicate what he’d done before? Could he draw Lily in that way?

Or the banknotes?

The harsh reminder of what he had to tell her sucked the calm euphoria from him. He sat up.

“Go ahead. Try,” Lily urged, obviously misreading his actions.

He stared at the papers on the chair. They were one, husband and wife, together forever. He could tell her, and they could deal with it together.

Something inside him held him back, but he fought that. He didn’t want secrets between them. He had to believe that Lily knew he wasn’t the same man who had turned to a life of crime instead of one as her husband.

He slid from the bed, slipped on his pants and walked to the sideboard where a basin of water sat. He dipped his hands in the cold water, splashed his face.

He
had to believe he wasn’t the same man.

“Robert?”

At Lily’s uncertain tone, he grabbed a cloth and dried his face. Took a deep breath and turned around.

Lily sat on the edge of the bed, the sheet wrapped around her in a deliciously evocative fashion.

She held the sketches in her hand.

The way her brow furrowed told him she had seen all of them. She grasped hold of one, and the others fell to her lap. “What are these?”

“I can explain,” he said, though he didn’t think he could. He didn’t have the answers, he only knew what he’d been told.

“Is this…” She stared at the paper, frowning. “This looks like a banknote. Why would you sketch banknotes?”

“Lily, I—” The words felt like rocks on his tongue. His stomach constricted with knots.

Her eyes grew wider, and she sucked in a breath. “You know what these are about. You remember.”

“No.” His voice was a low growl. “I don’t recall them, I haven’t…it isn’t that. Edwin told me.”

“Told you what?” She set the paper down and tightened the sheet around her. “This has something to do with what those men want, doesn’t it? What did Edwin say?”

Robert paused. He wished he could find a way to keep that look of love she’d offered him, but already it was beginning to shift in the furrow in her brow, the frightened doe set of her eyes, the thinning of her lips.

“Robert.” Her words urged him with a quiet desperation. “Tell me.”

“I drew them. The banknotes. I made…copies.”

It took only seconds for the truth to set in and her mouth dropped. “Forgeries?”

His shoulders hunched and the knots in his stomach gathered in a strangling grip. “Yes. That is what I did for those men. That is what they are looking for.”

“You drew forged banknotes. And what, gave them to those men?”

“I imagine I sold them. Being a criminal doesn’t make me a fool,” he said with a sarcasm completely uncalled for and utterly impossible to hold at bay.

“Our money, what we have…the allowance you give me? That is made of…that money?” Her face had paled a few shades. “Oh dear God, my subscription library…the books I purchased…those were paid for with… The people I tried to help, and all the while you were…”

“Your what? What library?”

“When did Edwin tell you this?”

Robert shut his eyes, trying to put a wall between him and the horror in her voice. “Before you came to me.”

“You’ve known, all this time. You lied, all this time.”

“I didn’t know what I knew! I only knew what he told me,” he countered. Anger at what he’d done, what he’d been, and what it was doing to them now festered like open wounds.

“You and I talked about what they were looking for. I told my family we didn’t know. But you
knew
. Why didn’t you tell me? Why couldn’t you trust me?”

“I can’t reconcile myself with that man, Lily.” He paced the room and stopped steps in front of her. He strived not to notice how her chest rose and fell. “The more I learn about myself, the less I like. The less I believe I have anything of value to offer.”

“No, Robert was different. He—”

“I
am
Robert!” he shouted. “We cannot continue to play this game that I am a different man. Memories or not, I am the same man. That man was a criminal. What occurs when my memory comes back? Who will I be then?”

“You don’t recall any of it?”

“You are still questioning my memory.” He gave a mirthless laugh, which felt like ugliness inside of him seeping out. “Has any part of you trusted me, at all? Then again, why should you? Look at what I was. Look at what I’ve done.”

“I am such an idiot.” She searched the floor for her clothing, then picked it up and hugged it to her.

He turned her around, grabbed her by the shoulders. “Don’t say that. I love you.”

“You love me? You
love
me?” She laughed, but the high pitched, coarse sound of it rattled him. “You said yourself we can’t play the fools any longer.”

He squeezed tighter. “I have from the moment I saw you.”

“How many days ago was that?” She yanked away from him and began to get dressed.

“What I feel comes from some place beyond memory. You are in my
blood
.”

She jerked her dress over her shoulders. “Even without your memories, you are lying. I’m not sure you know what the truth is.” She stopped. “How could you? I haven’t told you everything, either. I’ve kept things that could return your memory to you. God, I am as to blame for this as you are. What was I thinking?”

“Whatever you have to tell me, we’ll work through it. What I’ve done isn’t going away. I’ll get those men what they want, and we’ll figure this out.”

“Of course. I have no choice. I have to bring her to you.” The words wrenched out from her, twisting her like a ragdoll until she stood, arms limp at her sides.

“What are you talking about? Bring who?” Her eerie calm scared him more than the anger. “Lily.”

She hurried from the room. He ran to the door to follow her and realized he was stark naked. “Damn it.”

Robert grabbed his trousers from the floor and pain seared through his skull. He grabbed his head in one hand, slowly sat back down. Fighting back the slashes in his brain, he put his pants on then grabbed the stack of papers, the banknote drawing on top. He stared at it, studied the swirls and fine details. Tried to imagine sitting, pencil in hand and drawing it.

His fingers itched with a craving he hadn’t felt before.

It was a pulsing need inside him, almost urging him off the bed to find something, anything to draw with.

To see if he could match the work.

He dropped the papers on the bed as though they were made of fire.

What the hell was wrong with him?

The itch grew stronger. From some deep pit inside of him rose a need so violent, he balled his fists, ready to do battle with the ugliness taking shape.

He grabbed the images of Lily, searing them into his brain, waiting for the one that would fill that pit, one that would push the foulness out.

As he stood there, flipping through sketch after sketch, he knew he’d done it before. He knew he’d done it for exactly the same reason. He had drawn Lily because he’d hoped the good in her would exorcise the bad in him. That she would fill him up.

That she could keep him whole.

He needed to see her. Suddenly, he knew his memories were on the verge of returning. Flashes of light and dark were taking shape, and he didn’t want them. If he could hold on to her, just hold her.

He didn’t want to be that man. He didn’t want to feel that hollowness inside again. He wanted to be filled with her light and her love.

He finished dressing—he doubted her brother would appreciate his state of undress, and made his way into the corridor with a hurried step. He didn’t know where she’d gone. But he was done with secrets, done with half-truths.

None of what she’d said had made sense. He needed answers—about their life, the life he’d led and how he’d become that man. Why he’d become that man.

His brothers.

He turned the corner and crashed right into a young woman.

Robert reached out to steady her. “Are you all right?”

She let out a gasp. “Robert.”

Her voice hit like a kick in the stomach. Her beauty was like seeing something out of focus that should be clear. But he couldn’t place her.

“What are you doing here?”

“I need to find Lily,” he replied. “If you’ll excuse me.”

The woman’s mouth thinned. “And where is my darling sister?”

He could feel a wall of resentment directed at him, which baffled him. Then he realized what she’d said.

“Sister?” There was buzzing in his ears. Incessant gnats where none existed.

Lily hadn’t mentioned another sister. She had told him in great detail about the other members of her family; he’d met them up close and personal.

Why not this one?

The buzzing in his head heightened, throbbed with a vengeance, as though someone had thrust a stick in there and shoved it about. Something was there…right just out of his reach. Some memory. Some…

Lily’s sister snapped her fingers in front of his face. “Are you quite there?”

The memory, her name was on the tip of his tongue. But every time he opened his mouth to speak, it disappeared. He’d felt moments like this all day, especially when his brothers had arrived.