“No, no, you weren’t wrong.” Nicholas cupped her cheek with his palm. “I would wish more from you but understand what you are asking.” He leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers, gently at first, until she returned the pressure. Nicholas would have laughed if the situation wasn’t so emotionally stressful. And now, realization filled him. If they had kissed before now, they both would have realized the feelings for a future relationship just weren’t there. They would never mean more to one another than convenience. But the sensations weren’t unpleasant enough that he couldn’t give her this night of pleasure without expectation. “We do this my way?”
“What...what do you have in mind?” A flash of fear crossed her face before replaced with the resignation of giving him something to get her own needs met.
“Nothing as sinister as you may just have envisioned. Only, pull the curtains to keep all light from the bedroom, at least as much as possible. Wait on the bed, completely naked.” Her brow furrowed in question. “This way, you can imagine me as your true dream lover.” He controlled a snicker picturing who she might imagine. “Even if it’s our onerous sergeant.” He didn’t imagine her blush before she spun away and headed toward the master bedroom. “I’ll make sure the house is completely locked up before I join you,” he said to her departing back.
Nicholas slung his satchel over his shoulder. He made his way to all the windows and the back door, checking they were secured. He blew out any lit candles and switched off any lights still on. With no other tasks left to perform, Nicholas stood before the bedroom door, reached into his bag, and retrieved the object to allow him to complete his intended objective of bringing pleasure to them both.
With a deep, bolstering inhalation of breath, Nicholas opened the bedroom door.
The room was darker than Brigid expected. Had it been wishful thinking when she put clean sheets on the bed? Yes, she originally planned for the evening to end this way. Her body craved human touch. The last and only time was Fionn. There were other opportunities, but Brigid was old-fashioned. She couldn’t sleep with a man solely for sex. Brigid required more depth of feeling; and, she did have some feeling for Nicholas. Right this moment, she desperately needed a lover’s touch.
She did as Nicholas asked, closed the curtains before she removed her clothes and slid beneath the sheets. Nervous, it felt like hours had gone by, though she suspected it only been a few minutes before she heard the doorknob disengage from the lock. “Nicholas?”
There was a soft chuckle. “Maybe silence is the best course if you’re that unsure of who I am in an otherwise empty house. Especially, I guess, if you plan for me to fill in for a fantasy lover.” Brigid couldn’t have spoken even if she knew what to say. “Stand up, Brigid, take a single step toward the door,” Nicholas whispered from the doorway, a hint of a smile in his tone. His voice was so soft, nearly inaudible. “Then turn around.”
Brigid did as commanded, even as anxiety of the unknown thrummed through her. Brigid suddenly felt she could trust him implicitly. Then, any residual light disappeared as Nicholas secured a blindfold—she suspected it to be one of his neckties—in place. He drew her hair aside and pressed a warm kiss to the back of her neck. Goosebumps skittered down her arms. She inhaled deeply, catching the scent of him.
His fingers trailed down to her wrists before he grasped her arms so suddenly that Brigid gasped. His soft laugh pure seduction.
“What are you doing?” she asked, aware her voice rose with a mixture of excitement and panic. She provided feeble protests when Nicholas pinned her wrists behind her back, restraining her with one hand. He slid his fingers between her legs and teased her folds, and then his exploration ceased. Brigid felt him lean into her, and his thumb traced her bottom lip. Another shift and fingers tweaked one nipple. Brigid sighed her pleasure. With the blindfold on, the familiar fragrances she associated with Nicholas seemed more intense. Brigid nibbled her bottom lip as shards of pure pleasure shot straight to her center.
Suddenly, he swung her hands to her front and loosely bound them with another necktie. She nearly barked a laugh, wondering how many he carried with him in the satchel. One for different occasions? she wondered. Focus. Focus. Nicholas lifted Brigid, and she realized he was still fully dressed. He placed her on the bed and secured her hands to the headboard, stretched high above her head.
The bed dipped, and Nicholas’s body moved to stretch out at her side, his lightly calloused palm touched and caressed her. His mouth brushed her jaw, her cheek, and then he kissed Brigid slow and sweetly. If his lips hadn’t moved to her ear, she might not have heard his next words. “Rely on your senses. In the darkness, I can be anyone you wish. No names, no guilt. Only pleasure.”
Then the exquisite torment of his light touches began in earnest.
A path of fire followed his fingertips. The careful, slow way he grazed, nibbled, traced, and tickled her with his breath, lips, and tongue roused Brigid’s desire in unparalleled ways. A low throb beat in her center, her blood rushed through her. Nicholas leaned over Brigid’s body, his hot breath skittered along her skin.
Hot and wet, Nicholas’s mouth closed on Brigid’s nipple, and it took everything to hold back the moan rising from her throat. Brigid was barely conscious of the tickling sensation from his mustache. Moving more briskly, with a bit more pressure in his touch, Nicholas freely ran his hand across Brigid’s body. Her other breast was treated to a wonderful exploration while Nicholas’s mouth remained on the first. Brigid’s breath came harder, faster.
After alternating between her nipples numerous times, Nicholas slowly kissed his way down her body. He sucked, licked, and nipped with teeth in his wake. Brigid’s body trembled, over-sensitized when he reached the top of her thigh and bit the sensitive skin joining her leg to her hip. Brigid jerked, the action sending a shot of energy through her, drenched her in her body’s response to her excitement.
Soon, the hot breath moved directly over her mound, and Brigid’s body tensed with anticipation. If her breasts responded so astonishingly to being touched, then her nether folds would surely explode from the attention of his mouth and tongue.
An eternity seemed to pass while his slow hot breaths rained down on her. But Nicholas wasn’t finished teasing her. Nicholas sucked her clit into his mouth, the tip of his tongue flicked once, twice, and then teeth gently nipped. Oh, dear lord, had she ever been so excited, so wet, so wanton? Heaven or Hell, Brigid was ready to be transported.
Nicholas stopped and pulled away. The bed shifted, and his body moved between her legs. His manhood nudged her open, and she instinctively spread her legs wider to accommodate him. Brigid jerked as much as her bound hands allowed when the tip of his manhood ran through her folds, then in one quick motion, he pushed himself fully inside. The stretch in her intimate folds nearly had her crying out in a mixture of surprise and pleasure.
Nicholas gently rocked in and out of Brigid. Brigid found herself on the edge of giddiness by the need to feel and not speak, and the torturous rub of his clothes against her hypersensitive bare skin elicited a strange dynamic. Nicholas sped up. Brigid wondered how he managed not to make a sound other than the increased tempo of his breathing.
Despite her best efforts, small, short moans escaped Brigid. She felt Nicholas tense, repeatedly thrusting inside Brigid, and near his orgasm, if the tense, trembling in his body was any indication. They maintained their relative silent act, quivered and jerked with the struggle to contain the pleasure in their bodies for the last possible moment. The waves of her climax rolled through her and sent Brigid into blissfully dark heaven behind her blindfold, where all that mattered was the length of Nicholas penetrating her depths, his smooth fingers as he rubbed her clit.
Her orgasm was powerful and long. Her body trembled with the aftermath. Nicholas slowed the speed of his thrusts, sliding to a quivering stop before he collapsed on top of her. They stayed in that position for a long moment, Brigid mostly because she remained bound. With
time, Nicholas shifted to her side, untied her hands, and pulled the covers over her. Without a word, he rolled her onto her side, pulled her into his chest, and wrapped an arm around her waist. In less than a minute, Brigid fell asleep.
Chapter Twelve
Fiona was relieved to let Nicholas do the driving. She hoped to enjoy, for a little while, the beautiful and warm May morning. Not unusual for early in the month. They both were quiet for the ride to Ethel’s house. She had a lot on her mind and assumed Nicholas did too. Brigid had acted strangely, flirty toward him, then stopped doing so, to the point of blushing when his gaze fell on her. It wasn’t Brigid’s normal behavior, which worried Fiona. Was Brigid playing a game? She suspected Nicholas had feelings for Brigid, but even those appeared to have altered to a tamer level. Both were adults and able to work this out, but Fiona worried one or both could get hurt in the process.
She didn’t fault Brigid, as Nicholas was a handsome man and Warren, a prominent figure in society. Fiona couldn’t understand why she thought them mismatched, just felt they weren’t right for each other. She wasn’t a connoisseur of relationships. Heck, after almost five years, Fiona still didn’t understand what Margaret saw in her, or why she professed that love on many occasions. She just hoped someday Nicholas would find the same affections, the same love she shared with Margaret, and which Jo appeared to feel for Tessa.
Fiona enjoyed Nicholas’s company for more than his caring and politeness. He was quickly moving up the appreciation ladder to a spot previously only held by her Boston friend, Ian Donnelly.
“Here we are,” Nicholas said. Fiona realized they had arrived at Ethel’s. “Brigid saw someone over by the barn. I came outside and fired a shot or two,” he said, pointing off to the left. “In that direction.”
She nodded. “That’s in the direction of the train tracks, isn’t it?”
He raised an eyebrow. “Yes. It would also be a good point of ingress and egress.”
“Should we check out the house just to make sure there are no squatters?” Fiona asked, glancing at the front door. “At least to make sure whoever you saw last evening didn’t return?”
“That’s probably not necessary,” Nicholas said. “There shouldn’t be a need for Brigid or Richard to return. We packed everything yesterday. The lawyer’s problem now. No need to poke the bear if we can avoid one in the first place.”
“The lawyer is already working on selling the place. Brigid’s taken anything of importance. Richard has settled into the house with us. You’re right. I see no need for any of us to go back inside, either.”
Nicholas gallantly offered his arm. “Then shall we?” he asked, indicating the trail beside the barn with his other hand.
“Are you truly offering to escort me?” Fiona asked as she stared at the still offered arm. “My dressing as a man, entirely comfortable, tends to put most men off. Although I can’t attest to it doing much for the ladies either. Unlike them, you insist on treating me with respect.”
“That’s because most people aren’t me,” Nicholas said, with a quick swipe of his finger across his mustache. “And they’re basing most responses on what other people would do rather than enjoy the time spent with an intelligent, often amusing, and entirely beautiful woman.”
Fiona playfully slapped his arm away and started toward the trail. “Often amusing? I have a great sense of humor, though entirely misunderstood.” Once Nicholas closed the distance and walked beside her, Fiona gave a feigned skeptical sniff. “And I’m not beautiful. Margaret prefers to call me handsome, even if I don’t agree with the assessment.”
“Ah, well, from a woman’s point of view, I suppose handsome would be suitable for you. But, as a significantly educated man, I plan to go with beautiful. Which, whether you believe it or not, is a precise assessment.”
Fiona chuckled. “Significantly educated?”
Nicholas raised an eyebrow. “Do you doubt my pedigree?”
“Oh, saints preserve us, boy-o,” she said in imitation of her dead mother’s lilting brogue. “Perish the thought. I’d never disparage a fine man, such as yourself.”
Nicholas just gave her a harrumph.
As they continued down the trail, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. If someone had come this way from the railroad tracks, they probably didn’t stick to it. Fiona said as much to Nicholas. She asked, “Should we leave the trail?”
“Not quite yet,” Nicholas said. “Let’s get to the tracks, have a look around. If that is where the intruder originated, then we’ll find our evidence beginning there.”
It wasn’t too long a walk before they were in sight of the tracks. Once there, it was evident someone, possibly many someones, had camped there and may have only recently abandoned the site. Nestled between a scraggly bush but thick with greenery, and a tall, thick tree, someone had hung a five-by-five frayed square of oilcloth. When they moved closer, they saw a rusted tin plate, a bent spoon, and a tin cup. There were also square discarded pieces of newspaper and butcher paper complete with grease stains. Footsteps were many and in random directions. Above the tarp and nailed to a tree, was a broken slab of wood fence with writing on it. On closer inspection, Fiona recognized it wasn’t writing at all, but crudely drawn pictures.
Nicholas moved closer to her. “It’s a hobo code.”
“For?”
“Well, for the hobos to send messages to others. Not all hobos are thieves. Some are just folks without a lot of money or means for travel. You’ll always get those people with bad intentions, too. These signs alert them about the mood of the area. For instance,” Nicholas pointed to one drawing that appeared to be a large X with the top closed and eyes on either side. “This one indicates this place is a safe camp.” He pointed to what appeared to be a blocked U. “This means can camp here.”
“Some appear to have been scratched out,” Fiona noted.
“That could indicate whatever message was left is no longer valid.
Fiona studied the sign, noticing only two other messages were still visible. “And the last two?”
Nicholas stepped closer as he studied the drawings. After only a few seconds, he shook his head and said, “This message could be disturbing.”
“What you mean?”
“The blocked T states food for work, which could indicate an interaction at Ethel’s at some point. The stick figure with a dress and the triangles indicates ‘kind woman-tell her pitiful story.’” He focused his attention on her, and Fiona nearly shivered with the look of distress in his eyes. “Ethel’s killer may be a more unsavory hobo, more specifically called a tramp.”
“We should probably take this information to Sergeant Langford. Whether or not a hobo or the like is responsible for her murder, we can’t ignore the possibility the killer isn’t a local. And from the number of footprints, I would say the activity is recent. The weather would’ve destroyed these tracks before now.”
“I agree. We can only hope the esteemed sergeant accepts well-intentioned assistance.” Nicholas glanced at the tracks in the area surrounding the camp.
“Do you see something?” she asked him.
“No, but that doesn’t mean someone isn’t out there.” Nicholas nudged her shoulder with his own. “Let’s go. I’d rather not incur the wrath of Margaret or Brigid should anything happen to you. I have mentioned my fear of this possible occurrence rather recently, I do believe.” Fiona shook her head.
They retraced their steps back to the house. They almost reached Nicholas’s car, when a sharp pain lanced through her skull, dropping Fiona to her knees. Nicholas fell to a knee beside her and clamped a hand to an upper arm in an offer of support. Fiona feared not being able to find a resolution to this illness and have time to tell Margaret before the worst happened.
“You all right?” he asked, his voice low.
She hissed a breath through her teeth. “Fine.”
Nicholas cleared his throat. “This is stronger than the last one. Let m
e help you into the car.”
Fiona roughly pulled away from him. “I’m entirely capable of taking care of myself.” She managed to get to her feet on trembling legs. Even her hand shook as she reached for the door handle.
Nicholas gently nudged her aside and opened the door. In a voice barely above a whisper beside her ear, he said, “Of your ability, I’ve no doubt. I offer the assistance of a friend to a friend, not as strangers. Why are you so averse to my assistance this time?”
Fiona slid into the seat. Nicholas closed the door before racing to the driver’s side and sliding behind the wheel. The pain in her head had Fiona taking deep breaths through her nose while gritting her teeth. The frequency of the attacks was increasing.
The severity of the pain grew stronger for most of them. The accompanying waves of nausea were building, and Fiona thought she might be ill. She started to get out of the vehicle, not only reluctant to vomit in front of Nicholas but to soil his vehicle. “I just—”
Again, in softly spoken tones as if aware of her pain, Nicholas said, “Continue taking deep breaths. Your stomach will settle. If it doesn’t, I’ll deal with any mess later.”
In the silence, which seemed to last forever, Fiona realized he was correct. As the pain decreased, so did her nausea. Only to be replaced with guilt. Once sure this episode nearly passed, and her sight moving to the greyish blur, Fiona said, “I am sorry, Nicholas, for my rudeness. I hate feeling out of control, and you’re correct, this episode was more severe than the last. In my heart, I know your intentions are as a friend, and I truly appreciate them. However, in my head, I have difficulty trusting goodwill from a man without an abhorrent recompense expected.”
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