Chapter 36
Chapter Thirty-Six
NICHOLAS
The last four weeks since Victoria was released from the hospital have been a rollercoaster of emotions that I’m not used to letting myself feel. It’s been a ride, that’s for sure.
A few days ago, I sat down with Phillip and Laura, and we cleared the air. I still think they favor Elizabeth far too much, but then again, I’m biased. Victoria is my everything, my heart, my soul, my reason for living.
As for her sister, it’s a work in progress. Mostly, we avoid each other, passing only pleasantries whenever our paths cross. I know Victoria would love it if I could move past what Elizabeth did, as she seems to have done, but like I said to her weeks ago, she’s a far more forgiving, compassionate person than me.
I’ll always see Elizabeth as a selfish, manipulative bitch, and I don’t feel a shred of guilt for feeling that way. I shudder every time I think that I could have ended up married to her.
Maybe that should mean I’m more forgiving of what she did, but I’m not. I will never forgive her for what she put Victoria through, or her parents. I watched my father mourn the loss of a child, and it isn’t pretty. Laura and Phillip might not be my favorite people, but, Jesus, no parent deserves to bury their kid only to find out she faked it when all she had to do was find her fucking balls and tell her parents she’d met someone else and refuse to marry me.
My family may have a great deal of power, but the last time I checked, we’d never forcibly marched anyone down the aisle with a fucking gun to their heads.
Not for a century or two, at least.
Then again, Phillip needed my father’s cash injection to keep his business afloat, so maybe they wouldn’t have listened. Still, it’s all moot now.
The weather hasn’t been kind during February, with heavy snow and ice almost every day. I’ve been too worried about Victoria slipping and falling to let her leave the house all that much, but March has started off better, and today, it almost feels like spring, with fluffy white clouds and a mild, southerly breeze.
A perfect day for sailing.
“Feel like going out?”
Victoria is curled up on the couch reading, with Penny tucked into the backs of her knees. The puppy has rarely left her side since she returned home, leaving me thoroughly demoted to second place.
Her eyes sparkle like the brightest star in the galaxy. She puts down the book. “God, yes. I’m going stir crazy cooped up in the house. Where are you thinking?”
“I thought we might go sailing.”
“Can Penny come?”
At hearing her name, Penny’s head lifts, her ears pricked, almost as though she senses an upcoming adventure.
“I don’t see why not. Here’s hoping she’s got sea legs.”
An hour later, I steer The Devil’s Tormentor out of the marina and into open waters. I may have to change the name of the boat, as well as the one I keep in Croatia, too. It doesn’t fit me like it used to. I haven’t felt this centered and at peace with myself in a long time, and I know who I have to thank for that.
My gaze travels to my wife, her cheeks pinking up nicely in the sea air, with Penny snuggled against her chest. I smile, and the smile she gives me in return fills my heart with adoration. After everything we’ve been through, I don’t take for granted how lucky I am. A few short months ago I would have said, with vigorous determination, that I was incapable of loving a woman as much as I love my wife.
But here we are.
“Put Penny down, Half-pint. It’s about time we began your sailing lessons.”
She bites her lip and grimaces, the expression crinkling the skin around her eyes. “What if I crash?”
Amusement lifts my lips. “There’s nothing to crash into. Besides, I’ll be right behind you.”
She doesn’t look convinced, but she sets Penny on the deck and makes her way over to me anyway. Penny toddles after her, plunking her bottom on the deck no more than two inches from Victoria’s feet, staking her claim. If she could talk, I swear she’d shout, “Mine!”
Too bad, pups. She was mine long before you came into the world, and she’ll be mine long after you’re gone.
I maneuver Victoria in front of me and place her hands on the wheel. I talk her through the basics of sailing, like understanding wind direction, steering, and the importance of sail control. She takes it all in, nodding to show her understanding, even asking me a question or two I wouldn’t have expected from a novice.
“This isn’t so bad,” she says, after she’s been at the controls for five minutes.
“We’ll make a sailor out of you yet.”
She stays at the controls until we approach a tricky inlet leading to the spot I’ve picked for lunch—a picturesque coastal town that’s typical of southern England. I drop the main sail and use the motor to steer us into the mooring.
We find a quaint tea shop up a small side street that’s happy to accommodate Penny, and order lunch. Victoria’s appetite suffered after her brush with death, and she’s lost weight, but the way she tucks into her portion of fish and chips is evidence her appetite is making a comeback. After lunch, we take Penny for a walk along the seafront, but as Victoria slows down, and her breathing becomes labored, I make the decision to head back to the boat.
“Do we have to leave straight away?” Victoria asks once we’re back on board.
“We don’t have to do anything we don’t want to.” I wrap my arm around her shoulders and kiss her temple. “What were you thinking?”
She looks up at me with expectation in her eyes, runs her tongue along her bottom lip, and drops her gaze to my mouth.
“No.”
Air escapes her flared nostrils, and her lips flatten. “I’m fine, Nicholas.”
“You’re still recuperating. Look how that walk tired you out. No.”
“I mean…” She flutters her eyelashes at me and palms my dick. Starved of her touch, it hardens. “We don’t have to have vigorous sex. There are other things we can do that won’t over-tax me.”
Her fingers flex, gripping me. I groan. “Half-pint, you’re not making this easy.”
“That’s the plan.” She releases me and walks downstairs, where the living quarters are. I close my eyes and sigh.
I’m fucking pussy whipped, and you know what? I wouldn’t change a damn thing.
Ducking my head to avoid the frame, I follow her. When I enter the living room, Victoria is lying on the couch. Her jeans and a lacy pair of black knickers are on the floor, and her legs are wide open.
Fuck. Me.
“In the interests of time.” She trails her tongue over her top lip and runs a heated gaze over me. “You have some catching up to do.”
“Where’s Penny?” I’m not doing this with the fucking dog looking on.
“I put her in the kitchen.”
My eyes fall to the apex of her thighs. Christ, she’s soaked already. “We could move this to the bedroom, you know?”
“Oh, I know. But here feels more… urgent.” She beckons me forward. “I want this. I want you.”
No need to beg me twice. I kneel on the couch, pick up her legs, and place them on my shoulders. Gripping her arse, I lift her to my mouth, groaning at the scent of her. All the dirty thoughts I’ve suppressed these last few weeks spill out of me.
“You want my tongue in your cunt, don’t you, Half-pint?” I bury my nose in her soft curls and breathe in.
“Yes,” she gasps. “So much.”
“How much? Tell me.”
I’m tormenting her, and myself, but if I don’t delay this, I’ll devour her in seconds, and this will be over far too soon.
“Nicholas.” She grabs my head and tries to force me onto her. I resist.
“Tell me,” I growl. “Give me your words. Let me hear how much you want this.”
“I’ll die if you don’t make me come.”
“How do you want me to make you come?”
“God, Nicholas.” She grabs my hair and tugs on the roots. “Lick me, suck me, bite me. Just do it, or you’ll be the one who dies.”
A chuckle rumbles through my chest. “You’re drenched, Half-pint. Give me your cum, baby, then I’ll give you mine.”
I thrust my tongue inside her. She gasps at the sudden intrusion, then like a balloon that’s had the air let out of it, she sinks into the couch and moans in satisfaction. I devour her like a man used to eating tripe who’s suddenly been offered caviar, and it can’t be more than twenty seconds before the sweet taste of her squirts into my mouth.
“I love you.” I say the words I never thought I could, with my mouth on her pussy. “I love you so fucking much.”
When she doesn’t say it back, I lift my gaze. Tears are rolling down her cheeks.
“Half-pint, what’s wrong?” I scoot up the couch, taking care not to let my weight settle on her. “Did I hurt you?”
She shakes her head.
“Then, what is it? Talk to me.”
“I-I’m… so happy.”
Relief washes over me. I cup her cheeks and kiss her salty lips. “You’ve changed my life, Victoria. You’ve made me feel as though I’m enough. After Mum killed herself, I carried some of the blame of that for years. A deep-rooted belief that if I’d been enough for her, she would have stuck around.”
“You’re more than enough.” She threads her fingers into my hair. “Now take off your pants and let me suck your dick.”
My abdomen pulses with laughter. I lift myself off her and tug down my zipper. “With an offer like that, how can I refuse?”
* * *
Victoria’s hair splays over my chest as we lie naked and spent on the couch, our legs tangled together. I wrap a lock of her hair around my finger.
“I could stay here forever,” she murmurs, stroking my forearm.
“Me, too.” I kiss the top of her head. “You’re okay? Not feeling ill?”
“I feel amazing. The only medicine I need is you, Nicholas. Oh, and enough orgasms to keep a girl satisfied.”
“Think I can manage that.”
She releases a contented sigh and snuggles against me. “That’s a beautiful painting.”
I follow her gaze to a canvas of a rocky cliff with white-tipped waves crashing onto the rocks below.
“My mother painted it. The location is a few hours from here. I’ll take you one day if you like.”
“I’d like. Your mum was incredibly talented.”
“Yeah, she was. Prolific, too. When she first died, Dad displayed her paintings all over the house, but over the years, he’s taken them down. I think it was a comfort to him as he navigated the terrible grief of those early years.”
“She must have been in dreadful pain to do what she did.”
My shoulder pops. “I guess, but so were we.” I sigh. “I don’t feel quite as mad with her now, though, thanks to you.”
“I’m not sure what I did, but I’m glad. It’s hard to stay mad at someone you love so much.”
I think she’s referring to Elizabeth, but the last thing I want is to start up a discussion about her sister. Now, her I can get mad about without any effort whatsoever.
“It’s looking a little faded now. The painting,” I add for context.
“Maybe you could get it restored. It’s so beautiful, it would be a shame not to return it to its former glory.”
“Yeah, perhaps.”
We drift into contented silence, but when Penny starts scratching at the kitchen door, we dress, let her out, and head up on deck to begin the journey back home.
It’s late afternoon when we arrive, the sun almost kissing the horizon. I secure the yacht, but as I take Victoria’s hand and head for the gangplank, I stop.
“You know, I think I will take the painting with us and have it restored.”
I’m intelligent and clear-headed enough to recognize why I’ve made that decision. It’s all part of moving on and forgiving my mother for what she did, but I’m also smart enough to know I never would have made that leap if it wasn’t for my incredible wife. The beam of joy she gives me confirms I’ve made the right choice.
“Great idea.”
She follows me downstairs, with Penny glued to her heels. I unhook the painting and lift it down. “Christ, it’s heavy. And thick for a canvas.”
As I turn, Victoria frowns and points. “What’s that?”
“What’s what?”
“On the back. There’s, like, a cutout.”
I prop the painting against the couch, then spin it around to allow me to check out the reverse side. Sure enough, there’s a square cut in the canvas, as though the back of it has been sliced open and put back together.
“Grab me a knife from the kitchen.” I drop to a crouch, examining the bisected area. I tap on it. The noise it makes is dull, not hollow. How odd.
“Here.” Victoria hands me a butter knife.
I slide it through the cut and ease it outward. Like a door, it pops open.
My pulse soars, and my mouth dries up. Inside is a box. I take it out, turning it over in my hands.
“What is it?” Victoria asks.
I push to my feet. “Remember I told you about the key Imogen and Xan found in the snow globe and we’ve never figured out what it opened?”
Her eyes widen. “And you think the key fits this box?”
“The lock is small enough. Yeah, I do. I fucking do. I think my mum put that box in there and hid the key in the snow globe.”
“But why go to all the trouble?”
I shake the box. Nothing rattles. “I guess we’re about to find out.”