Chapter 27
“’And what of you? What would you give me, Swindle?”
she shot back at him. His eyes were dark, tortured as his gentle hands cradled her face, “Everything you need but nothing you want, my girl.”
Adelaide gave herself over to a searing, soul-shattering kiss from the man she loved, hoping it wasn’t for the last time.”
Adelaide, Chapter 11 continued
Fitz widened his eyes at her use of his full first name, and then his body responded in turn as well. She was devastatingly attractive when cross. She threw her shawl on the settee and paced the room.
“You declared your intentions to me and to publish this story with you and yet,” she emphasized the word, looking at him with a haughty raised brow, “You are being wholly uncooperative.”
Fitz’s eyes followed her movements as she positioned her hands at her hips angrily and then continued, “You are not at the publishing house when I need to speak to you. You won’t discuss it with me when I try to talk to you at a social engagement because you say that it isn’t the time or place.”
His heart gave a leap at the way her eyes narrowed at him behind her spectacles, he found that as much as he didn’t want to pull her in and then disappoint her with his shortcomings, he loathed being the subject of the ire in those eyes.
He trailed a finger down the sleeve of one slender arm as she continued her tirade.
“You haven’t upheld your end of the bargain we made. So, I’ve come to ask…What the hell is the matter with you?”
In his other hand was a crumpled note from his uncle.
Once news of Fitz’s betrothal to the woman in front of him had reached his uncle, the man had responded with nearly daily missives with veiled threats and demands.
Fitz had his solicitor looking into his uncle’s holdings and activities and the putride-smelling concoction his mother had been consuming as “medicinal;” but nothing damning had yet been overturned.
Still, it had all been enough to make Fitz wary.
But how could he let her know that without stealing from her moment and causing her worry if it all only came to naught?
“What exactly is it that you would have me do, princess?” he said as he sat and leaned back in his chair. His arms came up to rest his head against while he gazed up at her. She seemed to register that he was in his shirt sleeves with no jacket, his face unshaven, his hair carefully mussed.
He wanted to muss her hair until it was obvious how much he couldn’t keep his hands off her, that tight-jawed face of hers desperately needed to be kissed.
No, he pushed the thoughts away; she didn’t want to be kissed at the moment, she’d come here for a confrontation. Slapping him would be more appropriate for the mood she was apparently in, but he’d enjoy it. He could almost see the steam rolling off her as she exhaled and cracked her knuckles.
“You know how badly I want to become a novelist, as much as becoming your wife,” he couldn’t take his eyes off her as she paced, “I’ve worked and I’ve struggled, and I’ve pushed myself to improve. I haven’t sat idly by or rested on my charms and good name; I can’t even publish with my own name.”
She looked down in his direction as she took a step closer to him in order to poke him square in the chest with a gloved finger. “So, show up, that’s the first step. You’d know if you were present when I wanted to speak to you or if you showed your face at the company that belongs to you.”
“It doesn’t belong to me.” He fought to control his emotions. How could he make her see without giving all of himself away? Without pushing her away?
She pinched the bridge of her nose, “It is, Fitz. It is yours by right and you have to meet that challenge head-on rather than sitting off to the side while it’s all neatly handled on your behalf.”
He dropped his voice, low and cold, “I don’t think anyone truly wants that.”
She placed a hand over her heart, “I do. I just told you that I do!” She shook her head, “I want to work alongside you, not all on my own anymore.”
She cupped his cheek with one hand in a way that robbed all his defenses. “What is holding you back from that? It was your proposal to begin with. I can take my talents elsewhere, Fitz, if you don't want this.”
Her chest was heaving, her cheeks deepened a dark pink, an errant curl had slipped from her elegant coiffure.
He couldn’t look at the state he’d brought her to and leave her there, the truth unsaid.
He’d spent so long in the role of protector of all the women in his life, he was almost taken aback at the reality that she didn’t just want his protecting.
She wanted to protect him back. She not only would, but could do it too.
So he’d just have to tell her then, and risk what she’d think of him.
Fitz scrubbed at his face with two hands before he spoke.
“I feel that there is something that I should share with you.”
He stood and looked at the open door, then walked over to the window to glance out, his hands behind his back.
He could feel her eyes on him, the way she tensed and shifted in anticipation or confusion, but not anger or impatience.
It gave him courage. The contents of the room, of his familial home, his world, narrowed down to her and her response to his words.
“In all the years we’ve known each other, have you ever caught me reading of my own free will, or heard me read aloud?”
Fitz heard the tell-tale swoosh of skirts as she moved closer to him.She let out a little huff that almost sounded like a laugh. “Well, I always attributed that to you being too good looking or too worldly for something as banal as reading.”
He turned back to her, quirking a brow. “What rubbish are you on about?”
She shrugged, then crossed her arms. “Don’t play games with me. You know you’re as attractive as sin.”
He walked toward her, wanting to touch her, then seeming to think better of it as he adjusted his sleeves and glanced at the open doorway.
“Always handsome Fitz, never scholarly or studious Fitz. What a disappointment. And to my father, especially,” he gave an emphatic shake of his head.
“I wanted to be like all the other boys, simply reading a text and able to tell you what it meant; but when I stared at the page, the letters did funny things. They jumped over each other in a game of leapfrog, they fenced each other, they chased each other around the margin.
My parents hired the best tutors to no avail. My mother tried to have me fitted for glasses but that only made matters worse. Then I was the boy with four eyes that couldn’t read.”
Noelle gasped, her beautifully delicate shoulders sagged. As he looked down at his hands, he sensed her stepping forward. With a gloved hand, she affectionately swept his hair back from his face.
“You wore glasses, my darling?” she asked softly.
He made a noiseless nod of assent as he brought her hands to his lips. He placed a kiss at her knuckles, a caress meant to show how grateful he was that she wasn’t hitting him over the head with a book or striking him with her words.
She squeezed his hand where it now rested by her side. “You don’t want to be too intricately involved with the publishing house because of your difficulties with the written word?”
He nodded.
“You said you read my book though?” she probed.
Her voice was gentle, not wanting to take him apart; but to finally piece him together.
He didn’t know why it surprised him so much, through the span of time he’d known her, and through the length of their correspondence, he’d never found her to be anything but kind.
Even when she jested with him, it wasn’t in her nature to be callous.
It made it easier to trust her with the truth.
“It’s not that I can’t read at all, it’s just something that requires intense focus and lots of patience. I also didn’t drink when I read Adelaide, and that helped considerably.”
There was tenderness in her face, appreciation for what he’d done for her; understanding, but not pity. The same tenderness permeated her voice when she spoke again, almost bringing him to his knees.
“Then why not tell me? You’d rather have me believe you aren’t interested than to admit the truth.”
He had to touch her. He placed a thumb at her jaw, stroking her cheek. His voice was low as he asked, “You thought…. I wasn’t interested?”
She shrugged, for once words escaped her as she stared down at her hands. He found it adorable how much it pained her to admit that she’d been uncertain. He pulled her to him, her mouth inches from his own.
Hunger flashed in her eyes, just before she pulled back to utter helplessly, “You never answered my question.”
He hung his head on her shoulder, her hands intertwining in his hair loosing the words from him.
“It doesn’t square with the reputation I’ve worked hard to cultivate,” he breathed into her shoulder, then pulled back to see her face once more.
Her soft, kissable lips quirked to the side, “I disagree. I find it lends you more credibility to have a flaw.”
“It’s a rather hard flaw to overcome once people catch wind of it. A novelist in particular.”
She still held onto him with both hands but gave a shaky laugh. “I’m judging you more for keeping it from me than for the flaw itself. I have become well-acquainted with overcoming judgment and try not to inflict the same sting onto others.”
He trailed a soft pointer finger along her jaw to the column of her throat. “Anyone who would judge you, princess, and find you anything less than…” he trailed off to deliver kisses down the sensitive skin of her neck before continuing, “all-consumingly desirable…is rather blind.”
The words were a humid, thrilling hum against her ear. Noelle moved from his grasp and squared her shoulders. “Well, then perhaps you are in need of your spectacles, my lord; as you yourself were rather blind until quite recently.”
He grabbed her in one fluid display of masculine ferocity and held her against him. Her hips were flush with his, he fought to keep his bearings, not to pull up the mass of her wide skirts.
He said, “Shall I demonstrate to you how well I see you now?”