by Dayna Quince
She came back to bed with the tea and set it on the nightstand.
“It’s still a bit hot," she said. “Where is our chaperone this morning?"
“Probably still sleeping. We don't need him, do we?” He might pout like a child if she said anything but no.
“I certainly don't.”
He grinned.
“But you might.”
His grin fell away. If he needed anything from his brother, he needed Theo to grow up overnight and make a life for himself. One that didn't involve Callen always coming to his rescue, so Callen might have a chance to find his own happiness. But after thirty-three years, that wasn't likely to happen, and the near future looked bleak, as bleak as the gray dull light outside his window. As bleak as the choppy sea and the ship that waited to take them away from England, from everything Callen had loved, even though he hadn't had time to love much. He didn't want to lose what little he had, what chance he might be missing.
He focused on Luna. “I don't need him. He needs me.”
She raised both brows. “Are you able to get out of bed by yourself? I mean, if I must, I can help you to the chamber pot.”
Callen flushed. “I can do it myself.” Now that she mentioned it, he needed to do it rather urgently. He couldn't remember the last time he’d used the chamber pot, and there was still the issue of his erection, which her presence did not diminish in the least. His prick had a rather single-minded goal.
“Turn your back. I don't want to shock you.”
She pivoted and scoffed, folding her arms. “Nothing will shock me. I’ve seen your insides, remember?”
As tempting as it would be to prove her wrong, and satisfying to see her ogle his manhood, he'd only be torturing himself. It was best to keep that wall between them because he was already going to hurt her when it came time to leave, and the truth inevitably came to light.
The fever in his blood abated as the cold hard truth settled deep. He might never be able to come back to England. He wasn't sure about the rules for how much trouble he himself may fall into by helping his brother escape. He wasn't sure what would become of either of them.
He was not a rule breaker. He didn't flout the conventions of the law as easily as his brother seemed to. It only rankled him more that he had to sacrifice everything as if he was the one to pull the trigger, when all he wanted to do was stop him, stop both of them. Now he was paying the price.
He curled his lip as he went behind the dressing screen, his side tight, a dull ache hindering his movement every time he stepped. On the whole, he felt like he could manage just fine by himself, further proving he didn't need Theo.
Theo needed him. If it wasn't for his blasted affection for his damn brother, his life might be truly different, but he didn't know precisely how because he'd never had the chance to find out. He finished his business and returned to the bed, but he didn't lie down again. It felt good to stand, to move his muscles, to feel the blood fill his feet again and not his prick.
She turned to face him as he sat and handed him a cup of tea. He took a sip, tasting the strange oil and the sweetness of the sugar and the raspberry leaf. He was now fond of both tastes. He quickly downed the cup and set it aside. She was fussing with some supplies, bandaging, and the jar of salve he had been so curious about yesterday.
“I’ll have to resume activity today,” he said.
She nodded. “I think you'll be able to with limited movement. But I don't recommend riding or anything else too strenuous.”
Like fucking.
Where had that come from?
He peeked down at his lap. He could feel arousal stirring in him again. He took a deep breath and willed his body into submission.
Perhaps he did need his brother to chaperone him, to keep his mind off her dainty hands and how wonderful it would feel to have them wrapped around his cock.
Bloody hell.
This was only getting worse. He had to get his head straight, but it was difficult with her so close, so intimate with him sitting on the bed and her within arm’s reach.
“I'm really tired of sitting here,” he said. “Why don't we take this over by the hearth.”
She glanced up at him expectantly. “Very well.”
She gathered up her supplies and moved them over to the small circular table by the chair next to the hearth. He eased into it, leaning back against the plush padding, but it was firmer than the bed and the support was nice.
“I hope I haven't roused too much suspicion with my absence,” he said.
“Well, I can't speak for everyone, but beyond your brother and I, I haven't seen anyone take much notice. They are rather preoccupied with themselves and this whole ridiculous sham.” She froze and then began to move very quickly as she coated the small piece of cloth with the salve.
Now it was his turn to raise a brow. “Sham? What sham?”
“Never mind that. It was a poor use of the word. I didn't mean sham, precisely.”
“I'm not about to let you escape, so you may as well just tell me what you truly meant.”
“I didn't mean you, if that's what you are referring to. No one knows about the beach or your true purpose here. No one suspects anything.”
“Then what are you referring to?”
“I'm referring to the party itself. The whole ridiculous premise of the idea that… That one of us might find…a husband. And that will fix everything.”
He remained quiet for a moment. A husband would do a great deal toward helping the Marsden women, but it wasn't exactly a conversation he wanted to have. But he supposed it was better than addressing the truth, that he was the sham prospect of a husband, a fraud, a fake spy, and an utter waste of her time.
“Well, I certainly wouldn't offer my brother for the role, but you never know what could happen. Somebody could be falling in love right in front of us, and we might not see it as preoccupied as we are with ourselves or other problems outside of this party.”
“Like protecting England?” Her face brightened.
He chuckled half-heartedly, a shameful stab of guilt rendering him momentarily speechless. She looked at him with such hope, as if he was some kind of hero, and he was anything but.
“Or saving a man's life when he might have died from an infected bullet hole,” he said. Her gaze dropped to her hands as she folded one of the strips of sheet into a pad to place over his wound. Her cheeks bloomed with color.
She was very pleased by the reminder, he could tell, and he gave himself a metaphorical pat on the back. No matter how deep and tangled he’d become in his lie, at least he had shown her that she was far more than just a penniless daughter. She’d done something great here, and he would forever be in her debt. He hoped he would be able to convey all of that to her before he had to leave. To show her how much that meant to him, how proud of her he was, and how she had every right to be proud of herself. The world needed more of Luna Marsden.
She could do so much good, whereas he'd spent his life protecting his brother, who had done none at all. If he could trade places with someone, some metaphorical man in the future who might have the destiny to be her future husband, he would do it in a heartbeat and give her everything she could ever dream of. Even things she hadn’t yet dream of.
As the realization dawned on him, the enormity of his thoughts, his chest tightened and he wasn't sure his heart was even beating. She turned to him and paused, her gaze on his face.
“Are you all right? What's wrong?”
He didn't know what terrible expression she saw on his face, but she was instantly frightened. That was exactly how he felt, frightened and stunned, like he’d taken another bullet and he wasn't sure he was going to survive this one.
Not without her.
But he couldn't have her.
He didn't deserve her.
He was a man who had never been denied anything in his life. And yet he'd sacrificed so much of the things that couldn't be bought. Pieces of his soul.
He wa
sn't going to miss this. He was going to take something back for himself.
He pushed himself to his feet. Her gaze drifted over his face, looking for his new wound, for a sign of whatever was hurting him. But she would not find it. It was too deep, embedded in his heart like a piece of shrapnel from the life that was blown to bits because of his own affection for his brother. He'd been raised to only think of his brother, to care for his brother, and he didn't know how to do it for himself.
But right now, he did.
Right now, he was going to ask for just one thing. Screw asking. He was going to take it.
He pulled her close and her head naturally tipped back as she stared at him, her eyes wide, with not a trace of fear because she wasn't scared of him. She was only concerned about him, worrying over him, as no one had ever done before.
And he was going to take that too for the remainder of the time he had here. He was going to selfishly take her tender care, her attention, her worry, and concern. Every minute she spared him, he was going to cherish until the day he had to break her heart and leave her behind.
But in this moment, right now, he was going to take and give a little piece of heaven for both.
He bent, dropping a kiss on her lips, and she started but didn't pull away. He sealed his mouth over hers and gathered her close, wrapping his arms around her slight frame. A surge of protectiveness, of tender longing thrust deep into his heart as he savored the feel of her in his arms. With a slight gasp, her lips parted under his. He took the unbidden invitation not to seize but to knock gently on the door of her desire. He wasn't an animal.
He dipped his tongue gently into her mouth, tasting, letting her choose whether she wanted to invite him in fully or shut him out. He teased her lips, tracing the top with his tongue, taking little sips of her mouth until she opened wider to him, and her tongue peeked out and touched his in return. Triumph and lust rushed at him, engulfing him in flames of desire. He swept her mouth with his tongue, and her small hands gripped his shoulders, her fingernails biting into his skin, but she did not back away.
She did not balk at his bold caress. Her tongue met his, matching him passion for passion, and soon their breaths clashed between. Their tongues dueled for dominance, and she was crushed to him, breast to hip, and he had one hand in her hair, undoing the knot and combing his fingers through the falling locks.
The scent of her filled his nostrils. She smelled like a meadow full of wildflowers, hints of sweet light fragrances like posies and clover mixed with sun-warmed earth and the tang of freshly cut grass. He wanted to lose himself in it, roll around in it until all he could smell was her. Just as swiftly as the urge to pick her up and carry her to the bed came upon him, she broke the kiss, pressing her forehead to his chest just above the bounding of his heart.
“I'm not going to apologize,” he said. Perhaps they were the wrong words to say, but it was the truth. He’d taken and he'd given. It was her first kiss. He knew it deep in his bones. He could tell by the shock and surprise that he felt in her body, and he was a greedy bastard for taking such pleasure in being the first man to taste her.
“Please don't apologize,” she said. “We are running out of time. I have to change your bandage and be gone before we are caught.”
She backed away and picked up the bandages she dropped when he’d taken hold of her.
“Before we are caught,” he murmured to himself. Even if he were caught with her and Weirick demanded they marry, he couldn't.
Rather he could, but he'd still have to leave her behind and if he had to that—if he had to marry her and then abandon her—he might be then driven to murder his brother himself. And still then he'd never be able to keep her because he would hang for his brother's murder.
There was no way to win.
A newfound rage, the dangerous, cold, quiet kind filled him, and he stood still as she removed his bandage. Numb to what should have been the pleasurable sensations of her hands on his skin, he couldn't feel anything right now. He could only feel emptiness and loss.
She swiftly replaced the bandage and cleaned up her supplies. Her hair fell around her shoulders in dark waves of midnight. He wanted to reach out and touch her hair. His fingers nearly trembled with the urge, but he didn't. She was right. She had to go. Rays of gold now filtered into the room. At last the sun was coming up and soon the scullery maid would arrive. She swiftly re-pinned her hair into a sloppy, topknot on her head and her gaze met his.
“You should go,” he said, “but I'll see you at breakfast.”
She nodded and picked up her satchel and walked to the door, never looking back. The door closed behind her with a soft click, the same sound that had woken him that morning, and yet in that short span of time, he’d turned from a man into a monster.
Chapter 12
Luna returned to her own room and had just enough time to throw off her cloak before Hildy, the scullery girl, arrived to stoke up the fire.
“Goodness you were up early,” Hildy said.
“Forgive me, Hildy. I've always been an early riser. It just isn’t like me to stay in bed once the sun has risen."
“Aye, women like us, born and raised in the country, set our clocks by the sun, don't we?”
“Yes, we do, Hildy.”
Hildy began her duties, scraping out the old ash, stacking the logs, feeding the embers from the night before with kindling until flames rose up to devour the new wood.
Luna sat on the edge of her bed, her hands in her lap and staring at the clean white cotton of her nightgown, but she didn't really see herself. Her mind had taken her back to that moment when Callen had pulled her close and kissed her. From that moment on, she felt as if she was walking in a dream, and she didn't know what was real and what was fantasy.
But it had happened; he’d kissed her, her first kiss. To date, it was the wildest thing she'd ever done, and she didn't count searching the coastline for herbs after midnight because those were the types of things she'd always done. As Hildy had said, We women of the country live by different rules. But none of those rules had involved men like Callen. Men with mysterious purposes, wounds from battles he couldn't speak of.
And then he’d kissed her and suddenly she wasn't just a woman from Northumberland, a country-bred maiden. She was something else altogether, something bright and hot, glowing like the tip of her knitting needle after being held in the fire.
But what did it mean? Why did he kiss her?
Her foolish heart wanted to believe this was it. This was the beginning of their story. The romantic beginning of their life together that she would tell her sisters about on the eve of her wedding before her husband came to claim her, or one day tell their grandchildren about, but all of those things seemed like dreams too far to reach.
Too good to be true.
As her mother used to say, A day could dawn clear but be thundering by noon. She didn't know if she should listen to her head or her heart, and what was worse, she didn't know who to talk to.
She'd never had to hide something from her sisters. She already bore one secret, but that was for Callen. But now this was her first kiss. Something one ought to share with her sisters. But questions about the kiss would lead to questions about Callen, and that's where the waters grew murky.
He was here doing something important, and he was depending on her. What happened afterward? Where was this kiss going to lead?
That was the question she needed an answer to. If only she could find it, preferably in a book. She searched her mind for answers, usually matters of the heart were easy for her to understand. But not today. Not this morning and not when she couldn't speak of it to anyone but herself.
Unless… She supposed she should just talk to him if she had questions about his intentions. He was more or less her captive until he was well enough to leave the castle, diabolical as that sounded. It was reasonable to think at some point she would have an answer. All she would have to do was to be patient, and luckily patience was one of her
virtues.
Later in the morning, after she washed and dressed and headed down to breakfast, she tried to appear as normal as possible, but she was eager to see Callen. Had his brother come to check on him at all? Was his initial concern and declaration that they be chaperoned all for nothing? Or just his way of giving the appearance that he cared when he truly didn't?
Luna entered the breakfast parlor on the heels of Nic and her first glance was not to her sisters, who greeted her upon her entry, but to Callen. He was her lodestar, her true north for the time being, and her head and her heart were solidly focused on him.
He sat in his usual chair, his brother at his side, Lord Selhorst on his other side, and he was eating from a plate of eggs and bacon with a side of toast.
Luna approved of his breakfast choices. He needed all the nutrition he could get to regain his strength and aid in his healing. Relieved, she filled her own plate with eggs, capers, and some lovely cut strawberries and took her usual seat by Josie. Nic sat down beside her and yawned.
Luna studied her. She had deep shadows under her eyes. “Are you still having trouble sleeping?”
Nic stilled, her gaze on her plate, and then nodded before she briefly glanced at Luna and then back to her plate.
“I am. Perhaps I'll take some of that special sleeping tea you take from time to time.” Luna surveyed her more closely. Rarely did the sisters have reason to lie to each other, and so it was almost comically obvious when they did. Why would Nic lie about the reason for her exhaustion? Unless… She was doing something she ought not to be doing. Luna turned back to her own plate. What could that be?
And with whom?
Because in a castle full of gentlemen with nine inexperienced women, it wasn't as though Nic had suddenly begun painting by the light of the moon all night long. Reason and logic stated it could only mean one thing. She was spending time with one of these gentlemen.
