Chapter 12
Nathaniel had come here this morning driven by instinct and need.
He certainly hadn’t come with the expectation of sex.
But then, this wasn’t sex, was it? It was so much more than that.
After the tragic events of the night, they both needed comfort and companionship.
And they certainly had found that, but also… this felt like a reunion of sorts.
Moved by an emotion he couldn’t suppress, he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the curve of her damp shoulder, letting his lips linger on her skin.
She hummed faintly and didn’t resist as he helped her shift, his hands bracing her by the waist as they rose together.
Water cascaded from their bodies in delicate rivulets, splattering onto the tiled floor.
He reached for a towel and wrapped it around her, drawing her close to soak up the moisture clinging to her skin.
The towel smelled faintly of rosewater and starch—clean and comforting—and he found himself burying his nose in the crook of her neck for just a moment. She made a small sound—half sigh, half contented hum—as he rubbed slow circles across her back, drying her gently.
“You’ve always been meticulous about this,” she whispered, a faint smile in her voice.
“I’ve always liked looking after you,” he replied without thinking, his tone low.
When she raised her eyes to his, he caught the flicker of something unguarded there—surprise, perhaps, or sorrow—but it was gone so swiftly he almost doubted he’d seen it. He tucked the towel more snugly around her, then draped another around his own hips before sweeping her up into his arms.
She stiffened slightly at first, her hands pressing to his chest. “Nathaniel—”
“Don’t argue.” His mouth curved faintly. “You’ve been through enough for one night.”
She huffed a small laugh, but it lacked any real protest. Instead, she looped her arms around his neck, resting her cheek against his shoulder.
He carried her from the bathing chamber with ease, his steps slow and sure.
When he nudged open the door to her bedroom—what had once been their bedroom—he froze.
The air smelled faintly of her perfume, as though she’d applied it often enough within these walls until it permeated this room.
The fireplace was unlit, but the rays of the rising sun peeked through the closed drapes, giving the room a faint, comforting glow, sending long shadows dancing over familiar furniture.
Everything was precisely as he remembered.
The great oak bed they had shared, its headboard carved with curling vines.
The small writing desk where she used to pen her reports.
His favorite chair by the fireplace, its worn leather bearing the faint indent of his body as if he’d only just left it.
Even his old dresser stood in the corner, polished and neat.
He almost expected to pull open the drawers and find his shirts folded within, his neckties neatly rolled, his cufflinks tucked into the little mahogany box on top. But that made no sense. Six years had passed.
If Alice had truly moved on, if she were sharing her life—or her bed—with another man, wouldn’t she have rid herself of these relics?
But traces of him, of them, were everywhere.
Nathaniel lowered her carefully onto the edge of the bed, his mind roiling as she loosened the towel and let it fall away. She sat there in the filtered morning light, her bare skin gleaming like ivory, hair tumbling from its pins to fall in damp waves over her shoulders.
He removed the rest of the pins, letting the tresses fall free, running his fingers through the silky strands, as he attempted to make sense of everything he had discovered in this home today.
“Everything is the way it was.” It wasn’t a question, but she answered regardless.
“I kept it the same,” she said softly. “I couldn’t bring myself to change anything. This house—it always felt comforting. Our refuge. Even when you weren’t here.”
His chest constricted painfully. He reached out, brushing a lock of hair from her face, his fingers lingering against her cheek. “I thought you left me behind without a second thought. But this…” He let out a low, uneven laugh. “This doesn’t look like a woman determined to forget.”
Her lips parted, but no words came. A shimmer of vulnerability crossed her face before she looked away.
Nathaniel’s thumb traced her jawline before cupping her chin, tilting her face back to his. He kissed her—softly at first, a tentative brush of lips—but she melted into him almost at once. Her hands slid up his chest, her fingers curling into his still-damp hair as he deepened the kiss.
This time there was no rush, no desperation. Only slow, tender exploration. He let his mouth drift over hers, coaxing rather than claiming, savoring the familiar taste of her.
When he finally eased her back onto the bed, she went willingly, her fingers tugging at the towel still knotted at his hips. He stripped it away, their bare skin meeting with a heat that made them both sigh with relief.
He kissed her again, long and lingering, before his lips trailed lower—to her throat, her collarbone, the gentle swell of her breasts. She arched beneath him, her breath catching on a sob, her hands stroking down his back as though memorizing the shape of him anew.
Nathaniel took his time, worshipping every inch of her with lips and hands. Her sighs turned to soft moans, her nails grazing his skin as he teased and soothed in equal measure.
“Nathaniel, please. I need you.”
Oh, he needed her too. But he was enjoying this too much. His cock was leaking with need, warning him it couldn’t bear much more. But his mind and heart didn’t want this to end.
Only when she was desperate with need, tugging at his hair, her legs opening wide in wanton invitation, did he at last enter her.
The previous time, at the Black Swan, they could pretend they had been influenced by the wicked ambiance of the club.
They could hide their desires and their feelings behind the masks.
They could pretend to be other people, with no history, no past. Now they were naked in body and soul.
In their home. They were Alice and Nathaniel, with all their faults, their painful past, their hurts and mistakes.
But their love, their yearning, was just as real.
He slid into her, gaze locked on her eyes.
It was a slow, careful, gradual joining that drew a shuddering breath from both of them. Her legs came up to cradle his hips, her hands framing his face as he rocked into her with exquisite gentleness.
There was no hurry, only the steady rhythm of bodies moving in perfect accord, of hearts pounding in time. Their mouths fused, breaths mingling as he whispered her name like a prayer.
And then he felt it. Her quickening breaths, the tightening of her muscles, the first signs of her impending orgasm.
His release threatened to spill out. He had been holding back by exercising supreme control, because he wanted to stay with her through her climax.
To feel the rippling contractions of her flesh milking his cock.
But he would never be able to hold back through that.
Gritting his teeth, he started to pull back, but her legs wrapped around his, her hands coming to rest on his arse, digging her nails into the hard flesh.
“Don’t leave me now,” she begged. “Oh, God, Nathaniel. I’m so close. Stay…stay.”
With a guttural cry, her flesh clamped around his, her supple internal muscles rippling around him.
She clung to him during her crisis. And he was lost. His long-denied release exploded into her in relentless waves that wracked his body and left him drained and more at peace than he had felt in five long years.
Consciousness returned slowly. Nathaniel rolled them gently onto their sides, wrapping his arms around her, keeping her close, her head tucked beneath his chin.
For a long time, they lay there, their breaths slowing in the hush of the amber glow of the room.
Her fingers drew idle patterns over his chest—circles, loops, a familiar soothing gesture she’d always done without thinking. He loved it. Wished he could maintain the perfection of this instant forever, but something niggled at his conscience, needing to be said.
“I’m sorry I carelessly released my seed inside,” he said. “But you must know, if there are consequences, I’ll stand by you. No matter what.”
It was the wrong thing to say. He felt it immediately in the stiffening of her body, her brief attempt to pull out of his arms. He had just heard how that sounded, how it must appear to her.
“Damn it. I didn’t mean it that way,” he said, holding her tighter. “I didn’t mean that I would only stand by you if there were a child. I was merely trying to reassure you and apologize for taking the decision from you.”
Even in their younger, carefree first years of their marriage, they had always been careful to avoid pregnancy. It didn’t suit their lifestyle. He had used sheaths, or she had used sponges, or he had simply pulled out in time.
But now, at the most crucial moment of their entire relationship, when their feelings and future were uncertain, he had failed to protect her from unwanted consequences.
“It wasn’t your fault. I asked you to stay, didn’t I?
” Her voice was brittle, trying to sound matter-of-fact but betraying her hurt.
“In any case, you needn’t worry overmuch.
I doubt anything will come of it. We have been successfully avoiding pregnancy for years, regardless of our…
rather enthusiastic bedroom activities. And if it does.
” She paused, giving a little shrug, “you might get your heir.”
“I’m not concerned about an heir right now. The truth is that the idea of you giving birth, after what we went through with Mrs. Phipps last night, fills me with cold dread.”
There had been so much blood. So much pain and suffering. He didn’t want to put Alice through that.
“Like I said, don’t worry too much about it. It will probably come to nothing.”
He was saying one thing, and she was understanding another.
How could she be upset about him wanting to protect her?
But she was. Probably thinking he didn’t want to have children with her.
Which, in truth, he didn’t at the moment.
But not for the reasons she was probably imagining.
Bloody hell, it was so frustrating. The worst part was he couldn’t reassure her because he didn’t know himself.
Dwelling on this subject would only bring unpleasantness, and he didn’t want to break the magic of this moment. A change of subject was in order.
He kissed the crown of her head and tightened his arms around her. Hunting for the one truth he could offer. “I wish this moment could stretch forever. I don’t want to leave this room,” he murmured.
She gave a soft, exhausted laugh that ended in a yawn. “Then don’t.”
And she snuggled closer to him, one of her legs sliding between his.
He smiled against her hair, but even as sleep began to tug at him, he couldn’t ignore the ache in his chest. How had their marriage been so thoroughly undone?
Why had they let so many years slip between them?
Was there any chance to recover what they had once had?
Maybe forge something new between them? He didn’t know how he was supposed to let her go again, but the pain of her betrayal cut deep.
Could he even forgive and move past that? Did she want that?
He didn’t know. But for today—for this one moment—he would ignore all the uncertainties and hold her as if she were still his.
Because in truth, in his heart, she always had been.