CHAPTER 40 — ADVANTAGE

Weakness.

All that Raymond thought of as he stared at Lily’s pale skin and dim eyes was weakness. There was a nagging feeling on his inside that something wasn’t right, an unsettling feeling in his stomach that left him wanting nothing else but to curl up in bed beside her and pull her against himself.

As he watched her, her eyes remained planted on the document he had placed on the bed—the one demanding a divorce. He didn’t want one, but he thought she did. Why else would she leave home? Why was she leaving him?

She lifted her head up, wide eyes coming to rest on him. Her face seemed stricken, confusion sprawled across her sick features. Her mouth fell open briefly, as if to speak, but as quickly as she had opened it, she closed it again.

“I—” he began, feeling a need to explain the divorce.

“Please leave.”

“Lily...”

“Now.” She laid back down and pulled the blanket over her head.

For a long while, Raymond stood watching the bed, unable to move. He didn’t want this, any of it, he wanted to scream. But he believed she did, and he didn’t want her to think he would keep her trapped in a marriage she wasn’t happy in, even if the very thought of losing her sickened him.

He blamed himself for the failure of their marriage. What he did, what he tried to do, was the reason he was standing here, about to lose the woman he loved once more. His fear of losing Lily, like he had lost Rachel, the had pushed him to do the unimaginable. He had been selfish and inconsiderate for so long his greed had finally cost him his marriage. He couldn’t continue in that line; he couldn’t be selfish enough to require her forgiveness. Most of all, he knew he did not deserve her.

Turning around, he stumbled out of the room and down the stairs, his heart breaking with every movement of his feet that took him away from her.

“Raymond!” He hastened his pace as he heard Fiona’s voice behind him, fearing he would take his anger out on her. While he knew it wasn’t fully Fiona’s fault that his marriage was about to end, he hated her for the part she played in it. He hated her enough to hope to never lay his eyes on her. “Please!”

A loud hiss escaped his lips as she caught up to him and took his forearm captive. Shoving her filthy hands away, he turned around sharply to glare at her.

“I will not tell you this again, Fiona, stay away from me and my family.” He clenched his teeth.

Fiona stood a few steps away from him, wide eyed. “It is not my fault she refuses to return.”

A frustrated laugh escaped his lips—one that quickly transitioned into a low growl. He clenched his fists and fought desperately to keep himself from reaching out and throwing the flower pot that sat on the table in the hallway, against the wall.

He hated Fiona, he realized as he stood there. He hated her for taking the only person he loved in many years—the only person who taught his heart to love again—away.

He needed to get away from Fiona, he thought frantically. He needed to take his children and leave the influence of a woman who would be sure to lord her ownership of the property they lived in over them. Fiona would keep fighting, he knew that. Something in her brown, conniving eyes told him she wasn’t finished yet, and something on his inside told him he couldn’t wait for her to finish.

Beyond leaving Fiona behind, there were the memories of Rachel and Lily that he knew he would never be rid of, if he remained on the farm. He needed to leave everything behind, especially love.

As he turned from Fiona that evening and made his way out of the door, he knew it would be the last time he would ever set his eyes on her. He especially knew he would never see Lily again, and it was that thought that left him sitting in his wagon, weeping.

***

Fiona was noticeably absent at dinner, and seeing as she was the only thing Kennedy looked forward to at dinner, he missed her greatly. There was something about Fiona, something intriguing enough to keep Kennedy rooted in the boarding house, fighting to not only gain her attention, but her love.

Fiona, of course, hated him. Many times, she had voiced her displeasure at his continued presence in her boarding house, but he knew hate was a powerful emotion and if someone was willing to invest such powerful emotions on anything, they could easily love that thing.

But Kennedy had been wrong; Fiona’s hatred only got worse, and she resorted to avoiding him. A part of him knew he didn’t deserve Fiona; she was rich and powerful and he was broke and vulnerable. But he was willing to spend every dime of his ten thousand dollars, trying to gain her attention.

Until he heard her.

He had been on his way down the stairs one afternoon, when he heard Fiona practically appealing to a man to take her to bed. Stunned that the lady of ice had a heart, he had peeked at them through the railings and had seen an unfamiliar man. It wasn’t until that same man’s wife took residence in the boarding house that Kennedy finally realized Fiona was working hard to break a marriage.

When dinner ended that evening, he made his way up the stairs and to his room, looking out for Fiona as he did so. He locked the door behind him and climbed into bed, unable to keep his mind off her. He laid awake for several hours into the night, thoughts of Fiona filling his mind. There was also a distant sound, one that played in the background of his mind but wasn’t loud enough to gain his attention. It was distant and sounded as if it was coming from the ground beneath his bed.

Turning to the side, he pulled his eyelids shut and tried to fall asleep, cleansing his mind of thoughts of Fiona. It was as he emptied his mind of Fiona, that he finally paid attention to the sound: muffled crying coming from the floor below his room. He tried to ignore it, but he couldn’t.

Rising to his feet in frustration, he went in search of the disturbance. He forced his feet down the stairs and trailed the halls until he thought he found the room directly below his room. The wooden door stood firmly shut, but as he reached forward and turned the doorknob, it gave way before him, opening up to a room he suddenly recognized to be Fiona’s study.

He stood still for a few seconds, his eyes scanning the familiar room until he found the source of the noise: Fiona. She stood before a shelf lined with wine, her hands trembling as a glass of wine dangled from it, threatening to fall to the ground.

Carefully, he began making his way across the wooden floor, the sound of his boots against the wooden floors, drawing her attention to him. She turned around sharply, the glass falling to the floor, leaving broken shards and spilled wine in its wake. Her eyelids bulged.

“Oh.” Her voice trembled. “It is you.” She hissed, turning back to the shelf and picking up the entire wine bottle before lifting it to her lips. She pushed her head back and gulped down the entire bottle’s contents.

“Are you alright?” he managed, his feet planted in his position a few steps away from her.

“Hmm!” She laughed, replacing the bottle on the shelf and taking hold of another. “Who wouldn’t?” She giggled, uncorking it and lifting it to her mouth once more. She gulped down the liquid rapidly, the movement reflective in her neck. She removed the bottle from her lips and turned around slowly. “I am pathetic, am I not? Unwilling to lose him!” Her words slurred together in drunken nonsense, but somehow, he understood her. “He is not special. Why am I obsessed?” She threw her head back and laughed, trembling fingers releasing the wine bottle and leaving it to fall to the floor in a loud mess of more glass and wine.

“Stop this!” he warned, his eyes moving swiftly to the floor, where he realized for the very first time that her feet were bare.

“What?” She followed his nervous eyes to her bare feet. “Ah, this?!” She giggled, taking a step to the pieces of glass.

“Fiona, no!” he barked.

“Why won’t he love me?!” Her voice echoed in the room. “I have done everything! I have bought this worthless boarding house! I have bought his useless farm! Ten thousand dollars! A worthless piece...” she mumbled inaudibly amidst her laughter. “The useless bastard took everything! My innocence, my life, my womb! He must pay! He’ll pay!” She took a step into the broken shards, his eyelids bulging at her action. His heart tripled in speed as he watched her face crumble into a smile, as if reveling in the pain. “He’ll pay for ruining me! Nobody ruins me! Nobody!”

Kennedy made to go to her, his action gaining him a disapproving look. She shook her head and clucked her tongue, tears rolling down her face.

“He is dead, but he hasn’t paid yet.” Slowly, she began lowering herself to the ground, her eyes fixed on the broken glass. “Raymond will take this body...” Her words came out in broken whispers, forcing him to strain in order to hear them. “This body denied of pleasure.” She pressed her knees and hands to the glass, blood immediately spilling to the ground and mingling in a sickening sight of blood and wine. “And he will give it pleasure, and the bastard will turn in his grave! He’ll see from hell and mourn in grief at the thought of his wife taking pleasure in another man.”

Kennedy crossed the room then, reaching out and pulling her to her feet. She winced softly at the sudden movement, a small smile curving her lips.

“Stop it,” he murmured. “Stop this.” His heart beat continued to rise, the overwhelming desire to kiss her making it nearly impossible to stand. He knew it was a sickening thought, wanting to take pleasure in her rather than carry her to the safety of her bed and clean her wounds. But he knew Fiona was sick, and falling in love with him wasn’t an option. She would continue to despise him, and he would continue to desire her. He couldn’t live like that—he couldn’t desire a woman he would never have.

Leaning forward, he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her against him. A soft sigh escaped her lips as his fingers traveled up her spine, burying themselves in her hair as he pressed his lips to hers. The second his lips contacted hers, he could no longer deny himself her body.

He would damn himself to hell by taking pleasure in her tonight, he decided, leaning down and lifting her into his arms. She leaned against his shoulders as he carried her through the sleeping house and to his room. He placed her on his bed, trying to take off her clothes but failing at it. Frustrated, he ripped them off her body and took advantage of her weakness.

It wasn’t really taking advantage, he thought. It wasn’t taking advantage, even if she fought through it all.