Chapter Eleven #2
“He was my cousin, really. I was his adopted brother, taken in after my biological mother – his aunt – died. Alexander liked to remind me of that fact while we were growing up. He liked to remind me that I didn’t belong, that he didn’t love me.
Hated me, in fact, right up until he died, and I hated him too.
People thought I doted on him, looked up to him, and I suppose I did once.
But on that night, when I saw the extent of the fire.
..a part of me was pleased to have no option but to retreat.
It prevented me from saving him, though I would have, if I could.
It would have been the right thing to do. But I couldn’t...and I was glad.”
I shivered against his chest. I understood his feelings. I recognised them.
“Why?” I asked. I needed to know just how vicious Alexander was to make Nick glad that he couldn’t save him. That he couldn’t even mourn him once it was over.
“He was as close to the definition of evil as I have ever seen,” said Nick, in a flat voice as if it were simply an unpleasant fact, but a fact nonetheless. “He was perverse. He inflicted me with nightmares, with shame, humiliation – ”
And here, I recognised his feelings even more.
“What did he do to you?” My heart throbbed, a knot tightening in my belly, to think anyone had hurt Nick, let alone his adoptive brother.
“Don’t make me say it, Grace. I won’t say it.” Nick’s voice suddenly rose louder from his chest. He drew me back into his arms, soothing me, as tears flooded my eyes. He whispered that he was sorry into my hair.
“I didn’t miss my father either, when he died,” I said, in barely a whisper. “And I was glad when it happened. He left me with shame, too. I was humiliated. Mother knew.”
Nick’s hand was shaking as he brought it to my face and stroked me, as if I was made of something precious that could break.
“You’re not in the Dales any more. You needn’t ever return. You could sell that place, if you wanted to. Invest the money. Stay here forever,” said Nick, as if that could solve everything. As if he wanted to have the answer and gift it to me, wrapped in a bow.
I wanted to believe him. I wanted nothing more in the whole world.
I kissed him so passionately, wishing I could sink inside of him, meld my soul with his.
“Heather House should be condemned,” I said.
“I could never sell it. Nobody would have it, except a developer, perhaps,” I said, remembering it all too well for the cold, dilapidated shell that it was, with a tree collapsed inside a broken window.
It was tempting to describe the house as lifeless, but that wouldn’t be true.
Things lived in it. The house breathed, screamed, despaired.
It sucked the life of everyone and every thing in its vicinity, just to sustain itself.
“My contractors are in the final stages of the repairs,” said Nick, as casually as if he was commenting on the weather. “It’ll be fit for habitation and sale in no time at all, if that’s what you choose to do.”
I glanced up at him, disbelieving. “You fixed it? You really fixed the house?”
“I told you I would, and I did,” he said, running his fingers through a length of my hair. “Now it’s up to you to decide how to proceed. If you want to go home – ”
“I am home,” I said suddenly, without thinking. I wished I could have held the words back, but they were true. I couldn’t imagine anything tearing me away from Crowthorne House now.
Nick pressed a kiss against my temple, the corners of his mouth turning up in a smile.
“People will tell us that we’re wrong, Grace.
Do you know that? I’m far too old for you.
There’s an obvious power imbalance.” He shook his head, letting out a tired sigh.
“You’re so very young. I’m battling with my desire for you all the time, knowing you deserve better. I should never have dared touch you.”
“But I want you to touch me. I want everything with you,” I said.
He closed his eyes for a moment, letting my words sink in, like he wanted to savour them.
“My reputation is poor in certain circles. There are people who have it in for me, purely and simply, because of what they believe about the fire. A relationship with my very young apprentice might just be the shovel that buries me,” said Nick.
I shook my head, not understanding how our difference in age could be considered so wrong.
“But it’s legal. We’re not breaking any rules,” I said.
“You should be dating men your own age, like Dorian,” he said, his eyes looking away and into a far corner of the orangery.
“But it was harder to see you with another man than it was to resist you, and so I’ve failed, miserably.
We’ll have to tread carefully, Grace. Don’t tell a soul until we’re ready. Understand?”
I didn’t understand, not really. But I trusted Nick. He knew what was best for me, for the same reasons that made our relationship so wrong in his eyes. Because he was older. Because he had power over me.
But I liked that.