Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
WHERE A MAN STRUGGLES TO MAKE AMENDS
The Macauley household was preparing for Tate’s birthday tomorrow, the day before Christmas.
Servants were scurrying about, pine garlands and those red-berried plants loaded in their arms. Cats were underfoot, four by Nigel’s hasty count, and a mutt that looked about as lowly bred as he, lounging on the staircase.
He heard shouts and singsong calls, the stomp of feet and a dish crashing to the floor somewhere down the corridor, general chaos that spoke of a happy home.
Birthdays saddened him, as he had no clue when his was.
He’d been dropped at the orphanage with a blanket and a dented rattle, age undetermined.
A fact no one had cared to determine. Tobias and Hildy had tried to hold a celebration a time or two with a date they plucked from mist, but Nigel was too embarrassed by the whole thing, so the effort never took.
With the wisdom of age, it was a slice of life he wished he’d simply put up with for the sake of the two people who’d done everything for him.
He tapped his toe on the parquet flagstone in the entryway, hesitant to move one step more into the house when he’d never had to knock before.
The skin on the back of his neck tingled, and he glanced at the top of the staircase—and there she was .
Beautiful, compassionate, determined Arabella Macauley.
A woman who, at the moment, looked as if she wanted to run him over with her carriage.
“You have a lot of nerve,” she whispered after looking over her shoulder.
He shook his head, the rush of certainty—when he was already sure—catching him off guard. “No, imp, I’m in love with a chit who has a lot of nerve. I’m merely a man trying to piece it all together.”
She sighed deeply, her chest rising and falling with it, and he could see a tiny crack forming in the icy glower on her face. He kept his gaze there, away from the stunning breasts he’d been dreaming about for three days.
A rookery boy snatched what he wanted.
Nigel wanted Arabella Macauley—and he wanted her now .
But he’d damn well wait until she said yes. And if she didn’t, he’d go and jump off the Stone Bridge.
“Thank you for the note. And the sweets. And the flowers.” She descended a step, clearly unwilling, her hand grasping the oak banister like she was choking it.
“I know blooms are hard to come by in the winter, although you have the best shipping contacts in the city. Your father or mine able to find anything one desires. Although so many arrived, we had to start putting them in bedchambers. You should know Tate’s angry about his room smelling of lilacs, but he’s happy about the Swiss chocolates. ”
Nigel shrugged, hiding a smile when she took another begrudging step down. “The woman I desire is currently holding court on a marble staircase. I’m praying for a speedy sentencing that goes in my favor.”
Arabella halted on step number four, shooting him a fierce look that would have crushed another man.
“I know my rat of a father is helping you. He told you, order flowers and trinkets meant to soothe , and you’re buying out all England!
At least you didn’t try jewelry. Your father once had a dealer who specialized in nothing but tiaras.
Before your mother, that is. Then, poof , up went the purchase of tiaras when he met Hildy. ”
Nigel laughed, unable to contain it. “Xander did help with the flowers. And I’d never stoop to doling out jewels via messenger.
I know trinkets, as you call them, aren’t the keys to your heart, imp, but I needed time for the other.
I didn’t want you to think a second had gone by in the past three days where I wasn’t thinking about you.
” He dusted the toe of his boot along a silver thread in the entry’s runner.
“I’d hoped the hours and the gifts would cool your temper. ”
“You thought wrong.” Though the words were sharp, there was a sliver of warmth, amusement, perhaps love , buried beneath the heat.
Nigel leaned against the door, relieved Arabella’s mother had cleared the foyer of servants when he arrived.
Thankfully, Pippa was rooting for him. An orange tabby, however, decided to pay a visit, doing circles around his ankles.
“Are you going to come give me a kiss? You know you want to. I know I want you to.”
Halfway to him, she halted, her lips pressing into a hard line. “You arrogant scoundrel, as if I would after you rejected me in front of my father .” She flicked her hand, gesturing to the chaos surrounding them. “Plus, I have this blasted birthday party to help arrange.”
Incorporating Xander’s advice, Nigel opened his heart, placing himself on the block for her.
Glancing around the space, noting decorations and knickknacks that spelled family, he said, “I don’t know when my birthday is.
The spring perhaps. I was left at the orphanage without much information attached to the drop.
Perhaps I should pick a day, so my children have something to celebrate with me. ”
She paused two paces away, her lips parting on a rough sigh. Tears glistened in her eyes, and she swallowed hard. “ Oh , you are a skilled player, Nigel Streeter.”
He closed the gap between them, taking her jaw and tilting her gaze to his.
Her eyes were the deep gray of burnt ash this morning, the color of his fantasies.
“This isn’t a game to me, Bell. If you choose to share your life with me, the stakes are higher than any I’ve faced.
And I like to win—I admit to having a gambler’s soul.
But this is life . I want your devotion, your stories, your stubbornness. ”
He captured her mouth when she started to argue.
Where they tumbled into the abyss, passion scorching the air around them.
His arms were around her, hers around him, colliding.
Heat crawled down his body to land quite rightly between his legs, swelling his shaft against her hip.
When she wiggled in reply, he lost his breath.
“I adore you,” he whispered brokenly against her lips.
“I want you to be my wife, my everything, Bell. And I’m willing to prove my love for as long as you need me to realize I’m a solid bet.
To know without one hint of hesitation that I’m the man for you.
I won’t accept half measures any more than I offer them. ”
“Only you and my father call me Bell. Funny, that.” Tilting her head, she gazed at him with the mien of a gamester. His ploy tossed right back at him. “Before I decide the case, what’s the ‘other’ you said you’d planned?”
He unsuccessfully hid his grin, his heart thudding when she grinned in return.
She danced away when he tried to corral her. “Oh, no. No, no, no . I want my story, one as outstanding as my mother’s. As your mother’s. The men of the Leighton Cluster are known for grand deeds, as my father calls them.”
Turning, Nigel grabbed a cloak from the rack and held it out to her. “Mostly, imp, we’re known for groveling.”
She glanced at the cape and then into his eyes. Hers were clear, determined but tender, unless he missed his guess. “No kissing in the carriage, Streeter. That will only confuse the spit out of me. You on your squab, me on mine.”
“Done,” he whispered and settled the cloak on her slim shoulders.
If pressing a kiss to the nape of her neck was cheating, he simply couldn’t help himself.
And he didn’t promise a damned thing beyond the carriage ride.
He’d kept his word and his hands off her.
Although, Bella realized in amazement, a molten gaze could light a fire inside a girl.
After withstanding that sizzling look for the entire ten-minute trip, her knees were weak when they arrived at his terrace. It was a gorgeous property, she decided, taking in the trim four stories, the tidy marble stairs leading to a bright blue set of doors.
She would be happy here. Glancing at the man fumbling with a set of keys for an existence he was inviting her into, she let love make her decision.
In truth, she didn’t require a grand deed.
There were stories shared about the Macauley and Streeter dinner tables by the females in the family—and Bella wished for hers just to keep up. Nigel had done enough with the peek he’d given her into his past. To her, that was worth more than flowers and sweets.
Her decision was made. Ages ago, or so it seemed, she’d known Nigel was the best bet she’d make in this life. She appreciated his vulnerable quest to prove what a wonderful man he was to her.
When he was the only man for her, the adorable rogue.
However, she wasn’t above watching him grovel, since it was part and parcel of his legacy as a member of their extended family.
“The lock is sticking,” he groused, giving it a violent twist. “And it’s brand new.”
Elbowing him aside, she held her hand out for the key. Why …
Bella stared at him in amazement. His hands were shaking, his cheeks were flushed. While she was merely so delighted that she could barely keep from doing a dance on his front stoop.
“We can pick a birthday for you,” she said and gave the key a delicate turn that had the door swinging open. “Perhaps one in the spring, since you believe it’s close to the real thing.”
“ Bell ,” he breathed and shoved her inside the manse. Kicking the door closed, he pressed her against it.
Gads , he kissed like a god.
Threw himself in full force, no reluctance. His tongue tangling with hers, his lips gentle and commanding all at once. His broad body trapping her in passion, hunger, greed . Lifting her by her bottom, he caged her against the door, bringing her legs half around him in a muddle with her skirts.