Chapter Eleven #2
“But I can promise one thing,” she continued. “I never intended to use anything you told me against you, as Delilah did.”
“No?” Only a single word. Even so, his voice cracked.
“I only wished to protect myself.”
Still studying him closely, she frowned. “Why are your eyes getting red?”
“Are they?” He asked rhetorically. The pricking beneath his lids gave him all the answer he needed. “I wish I could make you believe you don’t need protecting from me.”
“Apparently, it behooves me to wish the same,” she spoke slowly. “And I don’t think you can make anyone believe anything. That’s not how belief works. We can’t know anything for certain. Can we?”
“Likely not.” He sighed. “Do you want to hear the rest of the story?”
She nodded.
“Sampson is captured, blinded, and bound,” he continued.
“But his hair grows back. He prays, and God gives him strength one last time. He pushes apart the temple columns where he was chained and displayed as humiliation, bringing down the building and killing himself along with thousands of his enemies.”
“Well, that’s…revenge.” She was quiet for a time, frowning down into her night rail’s lace, puzzling. Finally, she looked up. “I don’t remember. Did Delilah die, too?”
He frowned. “I don’t think her fate is told.”
“Ha!” she said triumphantly. “Then the story cannot be primarily about her! Maybe it’s about trust and lies and greed and poisonous hatred that lures people to act in devious ways…”
Smiling wryly, he shook his head. The movement cooled the tears gathered in the corner of his eyes.
“Devious ways”—she cocked a brow—“like bribing a lady to betray a man who says he loves her but mustn’t truly because he only feeds her lies.”
He snorted. “I’m not sure if that’s brilliant or blasphemous.”
“Brilliant,” she confirmed with a nod. She smiled shyly. “Maybe the story means that sometimes, when you trust, you get hurt. And that victory is impossible without risk and pain.”
Tentatively, as if he were a skittish horse, she threaded her fingers into his locks.
“Auggie, I promise not to cut your hair.” She was teasing, but not entirely.
His tears’ sting became unbearable. “Wouldn’t you?”
Her face darkened. “I would cut Willard’s hair. I would trick him and hurt him and use any means necessary to defend the innocents he harms.”
He didn’t blame her. Hell, he’d vowed to kill the man. But—“Be careful. Willard has nearly driven me to break my standards. I’d like to think you, at least, would stay true to your ideals, even when fighting on behalf of innocents.”
The tears must be in his lashes now.
“Especially when fighting on behalf of innocents.” He trailed his hand up her shoulder. “The more blameless the victim, the greater the anger.”
“Why Neville, I didn’t know you could be so wise,” she said in jest.
She didn’t understand. “No one wants to see something lovely and good destroyed.”
Her lips parted. “Neville, are you saying you want to protect me because, deep down, you think I am lovely and good?”
He was so, so helplessly lost. “You are good, beloved.” Tenderly he smiled as her image blurred through his tears. “Although I know you can be positively Machiavellian at times, too.”
Machiavellian. He’d recently used that word when thinking of fighting Willard.
Millie was lovely and good—at least in the sense of loyal. She had high ideals, but she was also cunning. Quick to see and exploit any opportunity that might give her advantage.
He was prone to divide the world into simple categories, while she wanted to experience everything all at once.
He was cautious and methodical while she was decisive and sure.
She challenged his fixed ideals, forcing him to examine them, discarding some, and strengthening others.
Perhaps they could not only help each other.
Perhaps they needed each other, too.
“You challenge me in ways that make me better,” he said, speaking his realization aloud. “Do you think that’s the way I challenge you, too?”
“Perhaps.” She sighed and then laid her head against his shoulder. “I know I can trust you to tell me the truth. If I could be absolutely certain you esteemed me, I could talk with you the way I talk with Eliza when something has me baffled.”
Devil take him, he was going to cry.
“I esteem you. And I welcome your…friendship.” He wanted more, so much more. But friendship would do, for now. “Have I answered your question to your satisfaction? Are you convinced I will not be a tyrant?”
“I don’t suppose I truly believe you will.” She lifted her head. “When you saw I was in peril, you enlisted the help of your friends. You’re showing me pieces of yourself. You are sharing your fears. But trust takes time.”
“How much time?”
“I don’t know. But Auggie”—she cupped his neck—“I’ve changed my mind. I would prefer you to banishment.”
Not a declaration of love. Not even one of certain future happiness. Not yet. But, he heard and cherished the most important thing behind her words—willingness to try in good faith for love and happiness. For now, that was more than enough.
“Millie, may I ask you that question, now?”
*
Though his face was blurred by proximity, she could see the tear on his cheek. Why was he crying? Because he thought she would say no?
Ah, Auggie.
If he’d only shown her this vulnerable side before. But he’d done everything he could to protect himself, to forge himself into a citadel of pride.
Oh, she’d been prideful, too, she supposed—spouting, as he’d pointed out in the stables, every mean-spirited thing that popped into her head.
But this man was different from what she’d believed.
This man had held her tenderly, had allowed her to shake him when she’d been furious and frightened. This man had looked back at her as if he’d just lost his very reason to live when she’d been fully willing to refuse him, to give into her fears about becoming a wife.
Repeatedly, she smoothed her hand over his short hair—so fine, so soft. Fragile, tiny locks were the opposite of everything he presented to the world.
But not of the heart he’d shown her tonight.
She couldn’t yet say that she loved him. But she chose him.
And she knew she’d be fierce for this man. Protect him, as he was always promising to protect her. She would become his wife—his beloved…a word that made her feel tender. He would become hers, too. She made these solemn vows, not to him, but to herself.
She’d never let anyone harm him—not anyone…including herself. But could she love him? Love him as Eliza loved Adrian. As Cassie loved Harbury?
She’d spent so long protecting herself, she couldn’t be sure. But they’d have time to work out the details. She cupped his neck, clutching him close.
“You’ve been so very patient.” She placed her hand over his heart. “Yes, you may ask. And I think we both know what my answer will be. But if you could wait a few moments longer, I’d like to tell you a story first.”
“Now?” He sounded raw, urgent.
“Well,” she made her voice light, “you were so kind as to tell me the Delilah story.”
His downward glance suggested he wasn’t in the mood to be teased. But she must. She must tease him out of this tension. And she must do so while making him understand just how significant he’d been in her life. How much that moment in the yew maze had meant.
“This is important. I need you to know something before you ask.”
“Very well.” Somewhat dreamily, he kissed her brow. “But please don’t embellish too much.”
“I won’t.” She took a deep breath. “There once was a girl—”
“Auspicious beginning.”
She admonished him with a look. “If you interrupt, the story will go on longer.”
“Go on.” He gave her an appropriately repentant glance.
“This girl had a guardian, and her guardian introduced her to his domineering friend, a friend very fond of ordering people about.”
He made a sound of disapproval. “Sounds like frightfully dull chap.”
“She thought so too, at first. But it turned out not to be the case. You see, one day, she followed him into a yew maze to prevent him from ruining a meeting she and her sisters had meticulously arranged.”
“I’m sure you, at least, were meticulous.”
“Sst!” She placed a finger over his lips.
How soft they were. “When she went into the maze this girl had no thought in her mind other than to make the domineering friend slow down. However, just as she caught up to him, something in the brush gave her a fright, and she stumbled. Stumbled right into him. And fell into the most exciting thing, or rather the most exciting person, she’d ever encountered. ”
Beneath her hand, his chest stopped rising and falling. But his heart began to thump even harder than it had before.
“She meant to pull away. But she’d caught his scent. And she’d felt his warmth and his strength. And suddenly, he was not just her guardian’s domineering friend any longer. And her body felt hot. And her mouth felt dry. And before she could puzzle out what was happening—”
“Oh God,” he interrupted.
“I had never felt such shocking feelings in my life. Being close to you left me tingling all over. I had no idea you thought I was teasing. No idea you wanted to kiss me senseless. No idea the tingling meant I wanted you to kiss me senseless, too.” She swallowed roughly.
“Such a thought would never even have entered my mind.”
He started breathing again, but his heart still rat-a-tatted against her fingers.
“Did you really feel that way?” he asked.
“Yes. And when Eliza told me all about intimacies earlier this evening, I couldn’t think of anyone else I’d want to share them with but you.”
She wiggled a little, wondering if she might brush up against the part of him Eliza had told her stiffened when he was aroused. Yes. There was something very hard against her thigh.
“Did you feel that way, too?” She sought verbal confirmation. “Do you feel that way now?”
He groaned. “I feel like I want to possess you.”