Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
After a half hour of futile searching, Laura found Nash in his chambers, rummaging around in drawers, by the sound of it. The door between their chambers was still shut, though. She’d have to open it to see what he was doing and try to explain about Aunt Violet.
She nodded to herself.
Now that Aunt Violet had come, it was time to unburden herself of her remaining secrets. Come clean about where she’d been living in hiding and make sure she had caused no lingering resentment toward his aged aunt.
Aunt Violet was not an easy person to love, but she was fiercely loyal to her family. Laura had confided in her about the problems with her life at Ravenswood and the duke once, and when Micheal Sweet had found her and taken her to Aunt Violet she had received an invitation to stay with her instead.
Michael Sweet had been her unwilling participant but a speedy method of travel. He’d had no love for the late Duke of Ravenswood or Nash, and did the old lady’s bidding without too much complaint because it meant he was thwarting them.
There had been enough strife in the family without Laura adding more to it.
She headed to Nash’s door and put her hand on the latch. It was not locked again today and it swung open easily.
Nash was standing in his dressing closet, his shirtsleeves rolled up above his elbows. His coat had been tossed aside carelessly on the floor.
She took a few tentative steps in his direction and stopped, expecting him to hear her. He did not and continued searching. She looked around, saw the portrait of herself that was still hanging on the wall, and sighed. “Nash.”
He did not answer. She took a few more steps toward him, curiosity getting the better of her about what he was looking for.
Beneath his hung clothes and about his feet was an untidy stack of journals. More accounting for the estate, she assumed. He had often had his head in a ledger when he should have been with her. Deciding she’d come at a bad time, she backed away.
Nash cursed. “I will just be one more moment. My apologies if I disturbed you.” He turned about to look at her. His hair was untidy, his cravat missing and, despite all that, he looked very appealing today. “Did you want me?”
She did. Laura wet her lips, struck nearly dumb by an overwhelming desire to cross the room and pull that confounding man into her arms and kiss him. She dropped her gaze and controlled herself. “I could come back later if you’re busy,” she offered.
“No. Don’t go.” He straightened. “This might be of interest you.”
“Oh,” she said, puzzled. She had not come here to look at account ledgers. “I wanted to explain about your aunt.”
“There’s no need,” he asked. “Her fondness for Isabelle tells me everything I need to know. Michael found you before I could. Michael found you and kept his mouth shut about it, and took you to her. Then later she brought you to London, where you expected to confront me but seduced me instead. He took you back to Aunt Violet, where Isabelle was eventually born.”
Laura gulped. He knew everything.
“It’s all right. I’m not angry. I had been worried you were all alone. Now, there is something I want to show you.”
He returned to the dressing closet, bent, and picked up a stack of journals from the floor. He dumped them all on his bed and spread them out. “I want you to have these.”
“I’ve no interest in the reading the Ravenswood estate ledgers.”
“They are nothing of the sort. Look, Laura. Please,” he whispered.
She moved to the bed, slightly distracted by its size because it was larger than her own. Nash followed and stood behind her.
“Where should I start?”
He reached around her and flipped open one book after another. She saw only a blank front page at first, and she turned the page of the closest book.
She gasped. “Thomas.” The simple drawing was unmistakable. Someone had drawn her son.
“Yes, and this one is Liam’s first volume.”
Laura blinked. “Volumes?”
“I first started drawing the children soon after they were born, at night and anytime I was away from memory. I continue to this day. There are a lot of them sleeping.”
“You did them all?” She took in the journals. At least a dozen were spread across the bed. “I did not know you could draw.”
“No one does. My father did not approve of artists,” he answered. “We had to hide Stratford’s hobby for a long time. It has been my secret joy to draw our sons these past years, and now I can draw our daughter, too.”
He drew another journal close, and it was easy to see it was brand-new. There was just one drawing of Isabelle, but it was so skillfully done her breath caught.
She stared at him. “Your brothers really don’t know?”
“Not even Algernon.”
“Why are you telling me?”
“Because you are their mother. You missed so much of the boys’ lives because I drove you away. You should have these in place of the time that was stolen from you, and perhaps it will help you feel more connected to their pasts. You left a similar gift on my pillow the other day. Thank you for that.”
Her hands trembled over the pages, and she longed to rush away with them and devour the contents all at once. Yet, these were Nash’s memories, too. A product of his own hand. His secret joy was not hers to take away from him. “I cannot keep them, but I should like to look at them for a while.”
There was a pause. “I drew you, too.”
Laura stilled, eyes flicking to the sketch of her on the wall. “When?”
“All the time. They…” He inhaled. “They made me feel less lonely without you.”
Laura could feel her body sway toward him, instinctively seeking to appease her own loneliness and comfort him. Yet what good would it do to tell him she’d felt the same?
Nash’s hand settled on her upper arm. “You have no idea how great the void you left behind.”
She closed her eyes. Damn him. He was reading her mind. She’d always felt his absence.
Nash’s fingers closed over her other arm, and she was pulled back slightly toward him.
Laura trembled. Afraid of him, of herself, and what might happen next. “We were all wrong for each other.”
“Yes, perhaps we were then. But never at night. At night, we were perfectly matched in all things that I thought were important for us.”
She exhaled, eyes fluttering closed as she remembered how close they had been in her bed. “It was almost enough.”
“We could be that way again,” he offered in a whisper. “I have thought of you every day and night. Being this close to you, knowing you don’t want me anymore, is utter torture. I can’t resist wishing I could be different enough that you might want me again.”
But Nash was different. The old Nash would never have voiced his wants out loud. He’d never once spoken of his feelings and desires to her before. She’d never been his confidant or known his secrets.
And now she did, and she could not fight how good that felt.
Oh, she’d always known what they had been in her bed when they were together. The connection, an onslaught of sexual gratification for both of them, had been exquisite.
But this new Nash was nearly a stranger to her. His wants at night might be the same, but during the day, now, she didn’t dare assume anything at all about him.
She turned to face him, and Nash continued to hold her loosely before him. Waiting for her to decide if they would scratch the itch of lust together and become lovers once more.
She ought not to.
It was daytime and he’d see the damage done to her skin. The scars she’d never be able to hide were humiliating.
She’d best leave that only connection between them severed forever.
But her need for him was strong. She’d had this man. She knew his body, and he knew hers. There were many reasons not to give in and just one to say yes to him.
She had given him her heart and trust the day he’d proposed. She had trembled whenever he’d smiled her way and worse when she awaited him in her bed at night.
She still trembled whenever he was near. She was weak, and afraid, but he was so very familiar. He’d asked to see her scars already.
There was no one but Nash she’d ever show them to.
Her husband .
And he was right there, begging for a second chance. He was trying to change for her.
Couldn’t she at least try as well?
She opened her eyes and looked up at her husband. “We cannot be what we were to each other again.”
Nash blinked and dropped his gaze, but not before she caught a look of acute disappointment flicker over his face. “Forgive me, I?—”
“Things must continue to change between us or we will die…and this time it will be forever.”
His gaze snapped to hers.
“I will not be used and discarded when the sun rises,” she told him.
“I never discarded you. I set you aside,” he admitted. “I was very wrong to do that.”
“Yes, you were. Now prove that you remember me this time,” she whispered.
He grinned and was suddenly upon her, his arms tight bands around her ribs. She sought his lips and found them willing and hungry for the kisses they had both missed.
Her gown and slippers disappeared faster than she dreamed was possible. With one sweep of his hand, the journals containing his precious drawings crashed to the floor. Nash placed her gently in the center of his bed, and she lay down—only to see a mirror image of herself above and the scars on her arms.
Nash had not noticed them yet and crawled over her on hands and knees and his lips went to her neck, nibbling and feasting in the way he used to do.
She couldn’t take her eyes off them in the mirror above. Watching herself being made love to was strange, and she languidly put her arm about his neck and pulled him down for kisses from her lips.
Nash turned suddenly, glancing up at the mirror. “I’ll have to draw this later.” He laughed softly and reached for the waistband of his breeches. He shoved them down, baring his bottom.
She slid her hands down, touching his bottom the way she used to when they made love. Nash shuddered and groaned and flexed his hips against her. His erection butted into her belly, hard already, but he made no move to do more than that. Immediate copulation had never been his way. Not even the night they’d made Isabelle had been an entirely rushed affair.
They rolled around together on his bed, moaning and touching. Relearning each other’s shape.
But it was different. She was waiting for his reaction.
It was daylight, and with that mirror hanging overhead, she saw everything she hated about herself.
Nash noticed her distraction and frowned at her. “Laura?”
Her gaze lowered to her right arm where the scarring was impossible to miss.
Nash froze above her. “The devil…”
“They took a long time to heal,” she said rubbing her hand over them to hide them briefly.
Nash grasped her arm and pushed her other hand away gently. “These are deep. Too deep and too many.”
“Yes, I know.”
“The work of a butcher,” he said, his thumb sliding back and forth over each one. He lifted her arm higher to study them and then noticed the other scar and grabbed her left arm. “This one is different.”
“Yes. The work of a more impatient hand at work I believe,” she murmured.
He glanced at her. “No physician would have cut so deep for any normal bleeding.”
Her breath rushed out of her. “Yes, I know. The last morning here, I woke confused, with a pounding head and throbbing arm and to find a servant frantically pressing a cloth over the new bloody wound. There was a knife in my hand that I had no memory of seeing before. I had taken supper in my chambers the night before and I believe something was slipped into my food so I would sleep through what was done to me.”
Nash sat back on his heels, his face turning white. “My God.”
She nodded, relieved by his reaction. “I never saw who cut me, but I’m told the duke returned late in the afternoon the day before, only to hurry away very early the next morning. He spoke loudly of his concern for my recent behavior and ill health. He mentioned places where troubled women could be sent. One maid came to check on me because I had slept late that day. I believe she was meant to assume I had tried to hurt myself and was therefore a danger to the boys. She treated my wounds and offered to help me escape the duke without him, or anyone, learning about it. Even you.”
“Laura, I…”
“It wasn’t you,” she said rising to sit up. She touched his shoulder. “There wasn’t anything you could have done.”
“Had I known his true intentions I would have taken you away from here. I swear I would have. I am so sorry.”
She put her finger over his lips. “Don’t apologize for him again.”
“What can I do then to make it up to you?”
“Help me the only way you can. Kiss me and make me feel safe again.”
Nash nodded, removed his waistcoat and shirt, kicking off his lower garments, but she could sense his mood had changed. Hers had too but she needed him. She wanted to feel desirable still, too.
Nash was a deliciously muscular beast of a man she discovered. A perfect distraction from her troubled thoughts. The clothes he wore hid the strength of him, but the dark had not. Now confronted by the beauty of his body, her breath caught in wonder.
He dropped back over her, keeping most of his weight on his own hands. But his naked body brushed hers and she watched him move, reflected in the mirror above. The muscles of his back flexing were utterly fascinating and she ran her hands over his skin. Up and down and all over, making Nash moan.
Laura shifted to widen her legs, willing him to hurry but she should have known it wouldn’t be so easy.
His palm settled over her sex, startling her as the action always had. She could see now that it was a move of pure possessiveness on his part. She heard it in the sharp intake of his breath, saw it now in the darkening of his eyes.
Her body reveled in being near him again, and she squirmed as her sex clenched in anticipation for what was to come.
Fingers suddenly parted her drawers, seeking her slit. When he parted her lower lips and found her clit, Laura’s back arched off the bed and a wail of gratitude escaped her.
“I never could get enough of that sound,” he whispered. “Make it again.”
“Nash,” she chided, although she was amused by his demand.
His weight left her, and she opened her eyes to look at him. “That’s better. Look up at what we do to each other.”
His fingers moved against her clit and when she looked down, she saw the length of him, bobbing hard and untended.
She wet her lips.
In the dark of her bed, she had held him, stroked him and thrilled in making Nash moan. But it was so different in the daylight. She met his gaze, uncertain again. In the light of day, it was not just about appeasing lust. It was more.
So much more carnal than any nighttime coupling had ever been. She could see his excitement, and he could see hers.
A bead of semen hovered on the tip of his cock. She’d tasted Nash with her own mouth many times, but never seen his face while she did so.
She wanted to watch him for once.
Fingers trembling, she reached for his length and took him in hand.
Nash rocked into her touch, lips parting on a groan as the silky-smooth skin of his cock slid across her palm once more.
She watched his face, his body tense, his chest heaving as she stroked him harder, faster, saw him clench his jaw to hold back a groan, an oath or plea for more. He struggled to control his lust, and Laura grinned at the discovery. He was not alone in that. Laura was feeling quite wild.
She rose and took the head of his cock into her mouth.
A curse left Nash’s lips, and suddenly they were lying side by side, heads in opposite directions. Nash parted her thighs and put his head between her legs.
The first lash of his tongue across her sex made her cry out. It had been so long, and Nash was so good with his tongue.
He feasted on her sex, thrumming her clit, penetrating her sex with his tongue and sometimes his fingers. She squirmed against him, even as she sucked his cock down her throat. She was hungry for this. For him. For a chance to feel this good again.
Nash dipped his fingers deep into her, and she nearly shrieked for the forgotten joy of that too.
Yes, she was as wicked as Nash. She retaliated by tugging on his balls, and when he stopped groaning from that pleasure and pain, she took him into her mouth again.
Nash stilled suddenly, removed his head from between his legs. “Laura,” he whispered. “Laura, look up.”
With a little difficulty, she did.
What she saw nearly made her climax. Nash fingering her, teasing her toward a climax she so desperately longed for.
His hard cock was flushed with blood and poised against her parted lips. She pushed down, ramming herself onto his fingers. Nash resumed his feast at her sex while she panted and moaned. Laura watched them fondle each other until she could bear no more.
She climaxed, impaled on Nash’s fingers, letting go of all the lust they’d built in such a short time with a loud wail.
“I can’t stop,” Nash warned, just as he jerked and overflowed her mouth with his seed. She swallowed quickly, but then he was there, kissing her to swallow up some of the excess that escaped her mouth.
They continued kissing for a moment, then Laura turned onto her back, panting hard.
Staring up at themselves, lying sated side by side, was different too. Nash reached for her hand and gripped it tightly, the way he always had in the dark.
It was confronting to see the aftermath of their intimacy at last. Her emotions were raw and clear on her face. The darkness had hidden them from him before, and his from her. Nash looked happy.
She wet her lips and gulped. “When did you get the mirror?”
Nash turned onto his side, lying so he faced her. “It’s always been there.”
“Has it?”
“But the view is better with you in it with me.”
“Why did we not…sleep together here?”
“I don’t know. At first, I suppose I thought you’d think me lewd or something. We were young, and I wished you to think well of me. Then later, I realized the mirror was hardly needed for excitement when we were in bed together. You aroused me just by breathing.”
Some response was required for such a flattering admission. She saw Nash’s hand lying over hers in the mirror. Strong, possessive, familiar. She squeezed his fingers. “I like seeing you naked in the mirror.”
She saw Nash smile. “I enjoy seeing you anywhere near me.”
He rolled onto his back and closed his eyes.
Laura swallowed the hard lump in her throat. Nash would not be seeing her here again unless they changed their minds about a divorce.
He hadn’t said he wanted that, and she couldn’t be the first to suggest it, either. She had her pride.
Nash’s breathing turned even and deep, and she freed her hand. When she was certain he slept deeply enough, Laura crept off the bed and left him there to wake up alone. She took some of his journals with her to pore over though.