Chapter Twenty-Two
T essa sat in the wingback chair in front of the fire and stared at the small flames as they gnawed at the pieces of coal in the grate, her legs tucked beneath her. Around her, the inn had come to life for the evening, with guests crowding into the main room to gobble down dinners of roast beef and stew, and even more visitors drinking in the barroom. But in this little room beneath the eaves, where the flickering flames softened the shadows, the night was still and quiet, the noise of the inn a distant, muffled hum.
When they’d left the Fishers’ cottage, they’d returned silently to the church with Father Blaine to tend to some matters regarding the grave in the churchyard. The two men had agreed that arrangements would be made, costs would be settled, and the village and church would be graciously and anonymously thanked for their kindness to an unknown woman cast up in their midst. Tessa hadn’t uttered a word, sitting quietly at the side of the study. Her heart was so heavy from all they’d discovered that day that she could barely keep her watery eyes clear of the hot blurriness that threatened at every moment.
Then, they had traveled on to the village to meet with the local doctor. Dr. Poston had agreed to examine Thomas in the morning, although Father Blaine had managed to keep the reason a secret from the gray-haired physician. He, like everyone else in the area, would learn soon enough the reason for the examination and Chase’s reason for being in the village, and when they did…
“God help us all,” she whispered, unable to find a stronger voice beneath the enormity of what would come.
She absently twisted the tie at the neckline of her night rail around her fingers as she frowned into the flames. When she and Chase arrived back at the inn just after sunset, they had both been too on edge to dine. So while Chase had gone downstairs to post a letter to Lady Bentley and Winnie to explain what they had learned from the rector and to reassure them that both he and Tessa were holding up well, so they shouldn’t worry, she had used the time alone to undress, put on her night rail, and take down her hair. Yet somehow the act of readying for bed seemed even more intimate without him here.
She had no idea if tonight would end as last night had—in fact, given how emotionally drained they both were and how exhausted, she doubted they would do anything more than blow out the candle and fall asleep, on separate sides of the bed.
No. Sleep wouldn’t come tonight for either of them. By this time tomorrow, their lives would once again have changed, all of them up-ended, and every thought they’d had for their futures would vanish like smoke in the fog.
“With our new futures just as obscure,” she mumbled darkly. The only certainty was that this night would be the last they would spend together, alone.
A soft knock sounded on the door.
“Come in,” she called out.
Chase stepped inside the room, securely locking the door behind him. He gave her a victorious smile as he held up a bottle of whiskey and a glass, but Tessa knew from the strained lines around this mouth and at the corners of his eyes that his expression was forced.
He poured a splash of whiskey into the glass and held it out to her. She accepted the drink with a quiet thanks and raised it to her lips for a sip.
Chase stripped off his jacket and tossed it onto the dresser, then pulled at his knotted neck cloth, not to undress for any intimacies, Tessa knew, but simply to remove the clothes that confined him. With his waistcoat hanging unbuttoned over his chest, he let out a long breath and sank to the floor at her feet, then rested his arm across his bent knees, leaned back against the chair, and took a long swallow directly from the bottle.
Setting her whiskey aside on the little table at her elbow, Tessa leaned forward in the chair to run her hands over his shoulders. His muscles were so knotted with tension that they felt as hard as rocks beneath her fingertips. “How are you?”
“How am I supposed to be?” He shook his head in apology for the harsh question, then squeezed shut his eyes. “I don’t know what to feel, what to think… My wife’s remains were found and identified. Now her ghost can finally be put to rest.”
“Yes,” she said softly as she massaged his shoulders to work loose the knots. “And that’s a good thing. Hopefully, both she and you can finally find peace.”
His silence contradicted that notion.
Her heart tore for him. The anguished strain he carried went far deeper than mere hard muscles. She knew…he still blamed himself for Eleanor’s death. Perhaps that guilt would never go away.
“But Thomas—I can barely let myself believe…” His deep voice trailed off into a throaty rasp. “He’s alive. My son is alive , and tomorrow, he’ll be returned to me.”
“And that is a simply wonderful thing.” She paused in her kneading to place a reassuring kiss to his temple. “Miraculous. And you have the right to feel relieved and happy about that.”
“What if I don’t deserve a miracle?”
“Nodcock.” When he blew out a long-suffering sigh at that, she continued before he could interrupt, “When are you going to realize that I know you far better than you think I do?” As if answering a challenge, she reached down and took the bottle from his hand and replaced it with her glass from the table. “To begin with, you’re not the kind of man to drink whiskey from a bottle. That’s what enlisted men do, and you are most definitely a commanding officer.”
His lips curled in a wry smile. “All that proves is that you know I don’t drink swill with—”
“You fought with the Prussians as a mercenary,” she continued, her voice somber, “and I know you think you’re the same as a murderer for that.”
His smile froze, the glass stopping in mid-air, almost to his lips.
“But you’re not. You fought to stop Boney’s tyranny. That doesn’t make you a murderer. That makes you a hero.”
He lowered the glass and stared into it as he slowly swirled the golden liquid. He mumbled, “The two are not mutually exclusive.”
“Yes, they are.” Her hands returned to his shoulders to work the knots in his muscles. “I also know you rebelled against your mother’s attempt to force you into a life in which you would never have been happy, and so you think that makes you a bad son. But you were not a bad son. If anything, you were too good to her by agreeing to marry the woman she chose for you, even though you doubted the match from the beginning.” She kneaded his shoulders, but the knots didn’t loosen. “You never had a good father when you were a boy, so now you think you’ll never be a good father to your own son. Also not true. You are going to be an amazing father.”
He frowned into the whiskey. “You don’t know that.”
“But I do, because I’ve seen you with Winnie. You, Chase, are a natural father.” She slid her arms around his neck from behind, placed her lips to his ear, and whispered, “You are wrong about all of that. Just as you were wrong about making love to me last night.”
He took her hand from his shoulder and brought it to his lips to place a kiss to her palm. “There was nothing wrong about that.”
Warmth stirred in her cheeks at the reminder of how wonderful last night had been, yet she somehow found the presence of mind to counter his words. “Yes, there was.” She turned her hand to lace her fingers through his and brought his hand up to her chest, so he could feel the fierce pounding of her heartbeat. “Can you feel my heart? I was as close to you last night as anyone could be, naked and vulnerable in your arms. But you didn’t shatter my heart—you were wrong about that. Just as you didn’t shatter Eleanor’s. You didn’t fail to protect me by sharing my bed, just as you didn’t fail to protect her.”
His head slumped forward. “She was on that ship because she wanted to flee her home, because I was a terrible husband. She hated me so much by then that she couldn’t stand to live in the same house. And I was a selfish bastard who didn’t care whether she left or not.” His voice lowered to a shameful rasp. “If I hadn’t driven her away by not loving her, she would still be alive.”
Her sympathy for him shredded her heart, fearing she would never make him understand how wrong he was. “Your marriage wasn’t like that at all.”
“It was.” He tilted back his head over the chair seat to look up at her, upside down. “I was there. I lived it.” He uttered the damning accusation he’d been hiding from her, “I caused it.”
“No,” she countered softly. “You were too caught up in the middle of it to see it clearly.” Tessa took a breath to collect her courage before confessing, “Eleanor never loved you—she never wanted to love you—and there was nothing you could have done to make that better.”
He squeezed his eyes shut, as if the anguish of her quiet words was unbearable.
But she couldn’t be silent now. He needed to accept the truth about the past if he had any hope of moving forward into a better future with his son.
“Before you were married, she let you believe that she held affection for you, affection that might someday grow into love—the same way you felt about her.” Tessa spoke deliberately, carefully choosing each gentle word so she wouldn’t be a traitor to Eleanor, and so she wouldn’t wound Chase any worse than necessary. “But that wasn’t true. She loved the idea of being a duchess, of having all the respect and power the position brought. She loved the idea of living in a castle by the sea and throwing parties in a grand London townhouse, of being the talk of society, a fashion setter envied by everyone… But her real married life never lived up to the fantasy, and when she found out she could never have all she wanted, she resented her marriage and having to share a life with you. She loved being your wife, but she never loved you .” She placed a soothing kiss to his temple. “By the time that last winter came, when she learned you had no intention of spending the season in London or taking up a place in society, she decided to go to London anyway. She was determined. She saw it as her right. There was nothing you could have done to stop her.”
Chase opened his eyes and tilted back his head to look up at her, and his expression was simply haunted.
Tessa couldn’t stop herself from caressing his silky hair in a tender attempt to ease his self-recrimination. “You could have been the most wonderful man in the world, and you still would have had a bad marriage, because you both wanted such different things from it.” Her shoulders sagged as she faintly shook her head. “Nothing could have brought your marriage to rights. I know that now. You need to know that, too.” She paused to pull in a deep breath. “Just as you need to accept that her death was an accident. It wasn’t your fault. And now, the miracle of Thomas being returned to you…that isn’t your fault either. It’s a blessing. But you’ll never understand that until you find forgiveness.” She leaned over to kiss him. “And to do that, you must first forgive yourself.”
He locked eyes with her. “Maybe I don’t deserve to be forgiven. Maybe my sins are too reprehensible to ever be absolved.”
“You’re wrong about that, too.” She lowered her lips to his temple, letting her hair fall forward around her face like a curtain so he couldn’t see her expression when she whispered, “Because I care about you, Chase, and I could never care about any man who was beyond redemption.”
For a beat, he didn’t move. Then, slowly, he turned around to face her. His expression was inscrutable as he rose up onto his knees to put his hands on both chair arms, framing her in the wingback chair between his biceps. His eyes level with hers, he stared at her, searching her face for any proof she meant what she said.
“Say that again,” he ordered, gently but firmly.
She knew what he meant, and it wasn’t her confession of caring about him. That battle would come later. “You are redeemable, Chase. A good man lives inside you. You simply need to let him go free.” She rested her hand on his chest and curled her fingertips into the muscle over his pounding heart. “And you should trust him as much as I do.”
Slowly, he leaned in and kissed her.
Tessa sighed against his mouth and reached her hands up to cup his face, to hold him still while she kissed him back with all the desire and love for him she possessed. She hadn’t lied to him. A good man did live inside him, and it was that man she wanted to give herself to tonight. And always.
She teased the tip of her tongue along the seam of his lips, to cajole him to open to her the way he’d taught her last night. When he did just that, a wave of giddiness plunged over her, and she daringly swept her tongue inside the warmth of his mouth to claim every bit of his kiss.
He reached to untie the bow at her neckline and let the blousy night rail fall open over her bosom. “You truly do trust me?”
“Yes,” she whispered, only to catch her breath when he tugged down her night rail to expose her left breast to the firelight and to the heat of his gaze. Immediately, her nipple drew up tight in anticipation of having his mouth on her. “Yes,” she repeated, this time giving her permission to be touched.
He leaned down and placed a single, chaste kiss to her nipple. Barely a kiss at all. Tessa whimpered with frustration and arched toward him, and a wicked smile curled his lips as he lowered his head again to tease her, this time for a single lick, as if taking a taste of lemon ice.
“Frustrating man,” she chastised between panting breaths when he pulled back again, to once more stare down at her bare breast.
This time when he leaned down for another teasing kiss, she grabbed his head between her hands and pulled him down hard against her, filling his mouth with her breast and earning her a light chuckle that reverberated into her chest and down to that needy place between her thighs. But he did as she craved, closed his lips around her, and sucked. No teasing this time, but hard pulls that drew her deep into his mouth, flicks and laps of his tongue over her nipple, and a sharp nip of his teeth that sent a jolt of electricity shuddering through her.
He released her breast, and with his dark eyes glued to hers, he lowered himself to kneel in front of her as he ran his hands down the sides of her body, over her hips, and down her legs. When he reached the hem of her night gown, he stroked back up her body, pushing the soft material up her thighs and exposing her legs. Then he wrapped his large hands around her hips and pulled her forward until her bottom perched at the very edge of the chair seat.
Only then did he break eye contact with her, only to lower his head between her thighs. Tessa caught her breath as arousal surged through her.
“You said a good man lived inside me,” he whispered against her folds, already wet and musky with aching desire. “Did you mean it?”
She had to lick her suddenly dry lips in order to form the word. “Yes.”
He swirled his tongue deep into her crease, a deliciously torturous lick that cascaded a hot, throbbing shudder through her. Oh, the wonderful things he was doing with his tongue and lips! Licking, sucking, nibbling…teasing feather-light strokes matched by deep delves. He made her tremble with increasing need, as if he’d built a fire at her feet and now had the flames lapping at her toes.
“But what you’re doing isn’t good,” she panted out and spread her legs as wide as possible in the chair. “It’s simply…wicked.”
“Good,” he corrected, his deep voice rumbling inside her.
“Good,” she repeated and let him lift her legs over both chair arms, to hold her wide open and utterly shameless before his eyes. When he traced a fingertip down her crease and teased at her throbbing clitoris before slipping inside her tight warmth, a moan tore from her. “Oh, very good…”
She arched in the chair to bring her pelvis harder against him as his fingers played mercilessly with her, until she was panting for breath, until her bare bottom writhed against the chair seat. She gripped the chair arms to hold on for dear life as she felt herself soaring toward bliss—
Release coursed through her, flashing dark spots before her eyes and ripping her breath away. She slumped bonelessly down in the chair, and a wonderful, tingling warmth spread out through her body, the sensation heightened by a deliciously dull throbbing that pulsed down her limbs into her fingers and toes.
Chase sat back to quickly strip off his waistcoat and slip down his braces to let them dangle around his hips. He pulled his shirt off over his head and tossed it away, then paused, sitting there so shamelessly, so roguishly inviting…doing nothing but letting her trail her desire-fogged eyes over his bare chest. Her fingers itched to touch him, to trail over the smooth planes of his chest and over the bumpy edges of his abdomen, to trace the dusting of hair down below his waistband. Half-dressed, with his hair mussed and his lips red from her kisses, he was simply delectable.
Silently, he held out his hand.