"Sure, Kit. I'll stay awake-just for you."

Another lengthy time later, he roused, and a woman was stroking a cool cloth over his hot brow. She was so beautiful that he figured he'd finally died and gone to Heaven as he'd been hoping he would for so long.

She was much older than he was, old enough to be his mother, but there was a vibrancy and flare about her that belied her age. She had big blue eyes and a glorious mane of blond hair, although it was now more silver than gold.

"Are you an angel?" he forced out.

She shook her head, but didn't respond.

"Am I still alive?"

She nodded that he was, and his spirits flagged. Why couldn't anything go as he planned? He couldn't even kill himself and succeed at it. When he was so inept, how could he ever avenge himself against those who had wronged him?

"Who are you?" he asked.

"Anne Blair," she whispered, and there was a husky catch in her voice as if she wasn't used to talking aloud.

On hearing her name, he remembered who she was. He hadn't previously met her, but Botany Bay was a small colony. She was notorious among the inmates-for her crimes but also for what had been done to her in the cause of some very dubious justice.

As one of the true felons in the settlement, she'd brazenly stolen money, jewels, and property from an aristocrat and his wife. Of course she claimed she hadn't, that the items had been given to her as gifts, but then every criminal claimed the same.

It was the heartache she'd suffered after her conviction that made her such a sympathetic character. She'd had four little children, the oldest five, the youngest two. They'd been wrenched from her arms and left standing on the pier when she'd been dragged onto the prison ship that had carried her away.

She'd never been able to discover what had become of them, and it was quietly assumed that they'd starved on London's cruel streets. After the incident, she'd never been the same. In her prior life in England, she'd been a celebrated actress and singer, but she didn't sing anymore and rarely spoke.

"You don't have to stay with me," he said.

"I'm staying."

"I don't care if I die."

"Well, I do."

There was a bowl of water next to his bunk, and she dipped the cloth again and swabbed it across his chest. Vaguely it dawned on him that he'd never been nursed by a woman before. His own mother had died when he was a baby and in subsequent years, no female had ever bothered to tend him.

Mrs. Blair's ministrations were soothing and welcome in a strange and startling way. They prodded at a deep pool of loneliness and despair that was buried just below the surface. He drifted off, and instead of escaping to the special den in his mind, he focused on her and how pleasant it felt to have someone be kind.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN.

Damian was sitting at the desk in the estate agent's office. He glanced over to see Kit enter.

"I have to talk to you," Kit said.

Damian tried not to tarry in the room. The spot left him sad and furious, and he loathed the memories that were dredged up, loathed having his old rage bubble to the surface, so it was the very worst time for Kit to talk about any subject.

"I'm not in the best mood," he replied. "Can't it wait?"

"No, it can't."

Damian sighed and waved Kit to the chair across. They stared, but Kit was unable to begin, and Damian finally snapped, "Well? Get on with it."

"I've always been grateful to you."

"Oh, sweet Jesu, I'm too irritated for more of that nonsense today."

"I am grateful."

"Yes, yes, fine. You're grateful."

"I've always stood your friend, and now I need you to stand as mine."

"For pity's sake, Kit. What is it? Just spit it out."

"I will, but you have to promise you won't be angry."

"I haven't heard what it is so I can't promise that." He made a rolling motion with his finger, urging Kit to hurry. "Tell me what it is before I fall asleep listening to your excuses."

"I've asked Sophia Marshall to marry me," Kit blurted out with no warning.

"You...what?"

"I proposed to Sophia, and she's agreed to be my wife."

Damian was stunned by the announcement. "Why would you?"

"I like her."

"So? You've tumbled women from London to Australia. There's nothing special about her. In fact, she's annoying and quite spoiled. Tumble her too and get her out of your system."

"It won't work."

"Why won't it?"

"Because I don't think I'll ever grow bored with her."

"You're smitten?" Damian sneered. "Is that what you're claiming?"

"More than smitten."

Damian glared, his mind awhirl with what his reaction should be. The rational response was to offer his congratulations, to wish him happy, but he'd never been very rational.

Kit knew him better than anyone in the world except Anne Blair. Kit had been there as Damian persevered through years of adversity. His driving motivation had been to stay alive, and that motivation had been fueled by his hatred of the Marshall family. Kit was aware of how badly a betrothal would wound Damian, yet he'd proceeded in spite of the rift it would cause.

Damian could never overlook such a hideous insult, and that's how he viewed it. Kit had forged ahead, not caring in the slightest that Damian would feel betrayed and grievously affronted.

"Am I supposed to declare that it doesn't matter?" Damian inquired.

"No, I understood it would upset you."

"Upset me!" Damian hissed and rose to his feet. "Brother, you have no idea."

"I'm asking you to consider it from my perspective. I'm asking you to take some time, to let the news settle in."

"I don't need time."

"Damian, what have I always wanted? Since I was a boy, what is it?"

"You wanted to marry and have a home of your own."

"Yes, and now I can."

"But with her! With the one woman in the kingdom who would offend me beyond measure?"

"How can it signify if I wed her? You're leaving soon anyway, and I'll remain at Kirkwood to run the place for you. If she's my bride, you'll never be here to witness it."

"You assume that makes it all right? I won't be here so you can hurt me in the worst way possible? Why don't you pull out a pistol and shoot me? A fatal blow to the heart couldn't distress me more than you already have."

"Don't be melodramatic," Kit scoffed.

"You think this is melodrama? You think I'm overreacting?"

"Yes, I think you are."

Damian pounded his fist on the desk and yelled, "Don't you know anything about me?"

"I know plenty."

"Then how could you not comprehend how this would kill me? Again Kit, take out your pistol and shoot me dead."

"Would you lower your voice? I won't participate in a shouting match."

"Why is that? You constantly tell me you're so fucking grateful. Some gratitude this is, you disloyal cur."

"I've never been disloyal to you. Not once."

"So it's fine to start now?"

There was an ink pot next to his hand, and he grabbed it and flung it across the room. It shattered quite effectively, ink flowing down the wall and staining the floor. He realized he was throwing a tantrum, and he hated that he was. But he was just so troubled by being back at Kirkwood.

How could he not have suspected how difficult it would be? He was so tough and imposing that he always thought he could control the universe, could bend any law of physics so the Earth turned in his direction and no other.

He didn't want to be angry at Kit, didn't want to bellow and call him names, but he couldn't desist. He felt as if he was out of his body, floating above the horrid scene or perhaps watching some other hapless oaf rage at his best friend.

"Dammit, Damian," Kit scolded. "Look at the mess you made."

"Bugger the mess."

"The maids will have to clean up after you. You're behaving like a spoiled toddler."

"What if I am? It's my bloody farm. If I decide to toss an inkpot, I bloody well will." To underscore his point, he swished his arm over the desktop, sending everything flying.

Through the entire quarrel, Kit had been sitting, but he stood too. He began picking up papers, straightening them, putting them on the desk. The sight of him, so unruffled and composed, infuriated Damian as naught had in ages.

"You're not my nanny, Kit. Leave it."

"I've always taken care of you, Damian. I won't stop simply because you're determined to act like a lunatic."

"I am a lunatic. I'm not acting." He gestured to the door. "Pack your bags and get off my property."

"What? No, I won't."

"If you are so desperate to marry that girl, be my guest, marry her. But I won't allow you to stay here and rub it in my face."

"You need me. Don't be an idiot."

"I was doing you a favor by giving you this job, but guess what? Estate agents are a penny a dozen. I'll hire someone else."

"That's not fair."

"Who said the world was ever fair? You were arrested with me. You were on that prison ship with me. You survived the Boys' Camp for Incorrigibles at Botany Bay. You lived to tell the tale, and you have the gall-the unmitigated gall!-to whine about the world not being fair? That I am not being fair?"

"I did survive with you. I did live to tell the tale. I was there with you every step of the way. We vowed revenge to those who harmed you."

"Yes, and the number one person who harmed me was Miles Marshall, and you plan to wed his sister. There is no greater insult you could have leveled. Now pack your things and go." Kit hovered, and Damian roared, "Go!"

Yet Kit was unaffected by the command. Coolly he said, "I'll return in a few days, and I'm sure you'll have calmed down."

"I will never calm down. Not about this."

"I know you well, remember? You won't remain angry for long."

"If that's what you suppose, then you're a bigger fool than I always deemed you to be."

Kit shrugged. "I hope to see you soon and that you'll have changed your mind."

"I wouldn't count on it."

"It would be stupid to wreck our friendship over a woman."

"Touche, Kit. It's stupid of you to wreck our friendship over a woman. Goodbye."