“It’s marriage I want from you, lass,” Mac said softly. “I’m not interested in a quick tumble. I am young and strong, and I work hard. I have some money saved. I will take good care of you.”
There was a long silence, and Mac thought he heard another sniffle. “I consider you, Tavish, that is all. I…consider.” There was a pause, and she added, “But I promise nothing!”
“Did you hear that?” Faith stiffened. “Someone slapped someone.”
Nicholas said quietly, “Unless I miss my guess, that was Miss Estrellita slapping Mac, not the other way around. Don’t worry, Mac won’t hurt her.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.” Nick chuckled. “Haven’t you noticed that our misogynistic Scotsman has become deeply enamored of our little gypsy? And she knows it, too. He’s putty in her hands.”
“He cares for her? And she for him? Truly?”
“Truly. They haven’t been able to take their eyes off each other since they met. All that scratching and snarling is just part of the courtship game.”
They heard a deep Scottish rumble and and answering female murmurs, but no words were audible. Nick rose and held out his hand to Faith. “But though I hope it works out for them, I don’t feel comfortable eavesdropping like this. Would you care for a moonlight swimming lesson, Mrs. Blacklock?”
She jumped up eagerly. “I’d love one, Mr. Blacklock.”
Nick picked up a blanket, shook it out, and draped it over his arm.
“What do you want that for? It’s not at all cold.”
He winked but did not explain.
They walked down to the water’s edge. The sand was clean and white, the water gleamed like a still, dark mirror edged with faint frills of lacy foam, which caught in the moonlight. The moon was a slender crescent, low in the sky. They were a mile or so from the sleepy fishing village of Biarritz, and everything was still except for the lazy ebb and slap of tiny wavelets against the shore. Nick spread the blanket and stripped off his clothes. Faith stripped to chemise and drawers.
Nick grinned. “Now, Mrs. Blacklock, you know what’s going to happen to that chemise and those drawers, and I take leave to inform you now, if they float away, I am not fetching them.”
She glanced around her warily.
“There is nobody for miles,” he assured her. “Take them off.”
She slowly unbuttoned her chemise, then, glancing around her several more times, she pulled it off, dropped her drawers, and ran down to the water.
The sight of her naked in the soft moonlight had a predictable effect on Nick, and he followed more slowly. She stood in the shallows, turning as he joined her.
“Oh,” she said, glancing down at the evidence of his desire. She smiled a small, feminine smile.
“Yes, oh,” he said. “And what are you going to do about that, Mrs. Blacklock?”
She regarded him thoughtfully. He stood knee-deep in the water, naked and waiting, as rampant as a bull, thick with desire. She bent and examined him intently. His breath stopped in his throat. She reached out and with one fingernail gently stroked him from the underside to the tip. A shudder racked him.
The feminine smile grew, and she murmured, “My, my, if we’re going to have a swimming lesson, we really ought to do something about that first, shouldn’t we?”
“Yes, we should,” he managed to croak.
“Very well, I will.” She bent down even closer, and her rosy, damp lips pursed, then parted just inches away. Nicholas could almost feel her breath, warm and sweet, on his exquisitely sensitive skin. He might never be able to breathe again.
And then she splashed him.
It took Nick a moment to recover, and when he did, he roared, “You little witch!” and plunged after her in pursuit.
Shrieking with laughter, she splashed her way deeper into the water, fleeing his masculine wrath as best she could, but he dived under the water and pulled her down.
She surfaced, spluttering and laughing.
“For that piece of impertinence, witch, I am going to have to punish you!” he growled and planted a hard, deep kiss on her mouth. She twined her arms and legs around him and kissed him back, saying when they broke for breath, “I am your penitent servant, sir.”
He looked at her dancing eyes and snorted. “Liar, there’s not a shred of penitence in you.”
She giggled and tried to look apologetic, but it was such a hopeless failure that he was forced to kiss her again. And again.
They floated in the glassy, dark sea, kissing and caressing, when suddenly Faith became aware of an unearthly glow around them.
“Look, Nicholas! What is that in the water?” Hundreds of tiny lights, green and gold and turquoise, floated in the sea around them, like stars fallen into the water. She looked up to see if they were a reflection, but the night was dark; the shred of moon had vanished, and only a few stars were visible.
But all around them there floated a hundred tiny lights.
She dipped a hand out to try to touch whatever it was, and wherever her hand trailed, the glowing lights formed a gleaming, magical trail. She wiggled her legs and left streams of fire behind her.
“I’ve heard of this,” said Nicholas beside her, “but never before seen it myself. The sailors call it ‘fire in the water,’ and they don’t like it, because it clings to the nets and warns the fish away.”
“It’s beautiful,” she said, dipping her fingers in and swishing them around her in a circle, leaving trails of glittery sea fire behind her. “I feel like a magician or a sorceress.”
“You are a sorceress,” he murmured, but low, so she didn’t hear him.
“Look, I can write my name in the water,” she said, doing it. She wrote her name, she wrote his name, and then she wrote in the black, black water, “Faith loves Nicholas.”
And Nick felt a hard knot in his chest and said not a word and made no sign that he had seen. And after a minute the words faded.
“I wonder if it will cling to my hair,” she said in such a determinedly cheerful voice, he knew his silence had wounded her.
But it would be worse to respond, he knew. Worse to get her hopes up. Better to say nothing. Pretend he didn’t see.
She held her nose and bobbed under the water, and when she came up her hair was full of glittering sea fire and she looked beautiful and magical and more than ever of a world he knew he could never share with her.
They made love on the blanket on the beach in silence, joined, yet separate, like lovers communing across a chasm. There was a frantic edge to their lovemaking that made it the most intense and powerful Nick had ever experienced, but once it was over he was flooded with melancholy, as if it were their last time, which he knew it wasn’t. Not yet.
They returned to camp in silence, hand in hand, and went to bed for the first time since their marriage, without a good night kiss. They held each other tightly in the darkness, and it was a long time before either one of them slept.
It was raining when they arrived in Bilbao, a soft, relentless drizzle that hid the mountains behind the town in a shifting veil of gray. They sought out the town’s only inn, intending to dry out as soon as they could, but as they walked in the door, a voice rang out.
“Miss Faith!”
Faith turned, surprised to hear her name called out in such a place and blinked as a small, neat man walked toward her with an uneven gait. It was Morton Black, her brother-in-law Sebastian’s agent. What on earth was he doing in Spain? “M-Mr. Black? Can it really be you?”
Morton Black took her hands in his and, beaming, bowed low. “It is indeed, Miss Faith, and I’m delighted to see you, just delighted. And looking so well—blooming you are, positively blooming.”
“I’m very pleased to see you, too, Mr. Black, but why—how—? Nothing has happened to Hope, has it?”
“No, miss, blooming like yourself, she was, when last I saw her.”
“And the others, Prudence and Gideon? Are they well?”
“
In fine fettle.”
“And Charity and Edward—nothing has happened to the baby, has it? Little Aurora?”
“No, miss, they are all perfectly well, as is young Grace and the two little girls and everyone in your family, Sir Oswald and Lady Augusta included, though strictly speaking, Lady Augusta isn’t famil—”
“Then why are you here? Is it some business of Sebastian’s?”
He gave her a troubled look. “No, miss, it’s you I’ve come to find. It’s your sister—she was that worried about you that Mr. Reyne sent me to search for you.”
“Would you introduce us, please, my dear?” Nicholas, who had listened to the entire exchange, slid a possessive hand around her waist.
“Oh, yes, of course, sorry. Nicholas, this is Mr. Morton Black, my brother-in-law’s agent; Mr. Black, my husband, Mr. Nicholas Blacklock. The most incredible thing, Nicholas, Sebastian—that’s Hope’s husband—sent Mr. Black to find me—and he did!”
The two men shook hands and eyed each other cautiously.
Faith returned to the question most puzzling her. “But I don’t understand. Why was Hope so worried about me?” She turned to Nicholas and explained, “My twin and I have a special bond and can feel when each other is upset or hurt, so she must have known how happy I was.” Blushing faintly, she turned back to Mr. Black. “And besides, I’d written to her. Didn’t she get my letters?”
“Yes, miss—and by the way, I have a fat packet of letters for you upstairs, from all your sisters. But that’s how I knew to come to Bilbao. You mentioned you were coming here. She was still anxious, though.” His glance flickered toward Nicholas and back, and Faith realized that despite all her letters of reassurance, her family didn’t believe her that Nicholas was a good man. She wasn’t surprised. His rescuing her had been almost too good to be true.
“Will you stop calling her miss—she’s a married woman!” said Nicholas irritably. “She’s my wife!”
Faith gave him a surprised look. Stevens called her missie all the time, and Nicholas hadn’t once objected.
Morton Black narrowed his eyes at Nicholas. “Excuse me, sir, but would you be the Blacklock who was a junior officer under Lieutenant-General Cotton at Talavera?”
“I was, and still wet behind the ears. I gather you were at Talavera.”
“Indeed I was, sir, with the Sixtieth Foot. Copped this at Waterloo, and I reckon you was there, too.” He rapped his wooden leg loudly. “I hadn’t made the connection until I heard you snap just then. A lot younger you was back then—and I’m not just talking years, sir. Well, well, small world, isn’t it, sir?”
Nicholas gave him a cool look. “Spit it out. What are you after?”
But that wasn’t Morton Black’s way. “Couldn’t get work to save my life after the war—not until Mr. Reyne offered me a job. Do anything for Mr. Reyne I would, sir.” He looked Nicholas straight in the eye and said, “And Mr. Reyne would do anything for his wife, sir, and what his wife wants is her twin sister home, safe and sound.”
Nick gave him a long, assessing look, then came to a decision. “Good,” he said briskly. “In that case you can escort her home, with my blessing.”
Faith gasped. “What?”
He ignored her. “I was wondering how to achieve that. I would have sent Stevens with her, only he wants to visit his son’s grave at Vittoria. And I wouldn’t trust my wife’s safety to just anyone. But I know you. You lost that leg rescuing one of your fellows, didn’t you?”
“Yes, sir, I did. Not that it did him much good, poor fellow. He died anyway, and I was left, a peg leg.”
“You look fit enough to me. Your arrival is extremely timely, Black.”
“Excuse me, but I think I have some say in this, and I’m not going anywhere! I’m staying with you!” declared Faith.
As if she hadn’t said anything at all, Morton Black said, “There’s a boat leaving tomorrow, sir. It’s a small cargo ship, transporting wine to England, but there are two small passenger cabins. We could obtain passage on it, I’m sure.”
Faith was furious. She pushed in between the two men who were disposing of her like a package and said, “Obtain as many passages as you like, Mr. Black, but I’m not going!”
Nicholas took her arm. “We will discuss this in private, madam.”
“Don’t madam me, Nicholas! We will not discuss it at all. I am not leaving, and that’s that!”
His lips compressed firmly, and he marched her in silence up to the bedchamber they’d been allotted.
“Now, madam, you knew this was coming, sooner or later. I would be grateful if you didn’t make a fuss about what you know is an inevitable parting and left with the quiet dignity I know you can assume.”
“Why is it inevitable?”
He made an awkward, impatient gesture. “You know I have a…a task before me.”
“Yes, you told me, and I’ve prepared myself for it.”
His brows snapped together. “What do you mean, I told you? I did not tell you anything!”
“No, I know it is some sort of deadly secret,” Faith assured him, “and I know that whatever it is will be terribly difficult for you. But I have learned so much in these past weeks, Nicholas. Surely you can see that I will be able to manage now.”
He stared at her, clearly at a loss.
She explained, ticking off each point on her fingers as she spoke, “I can now cook over a campfire—not well, but adequately; I have learned to catch fish and scale and gut them; Estrellita has taught me how to forage for wild greens and herbs; and whilst I was not able to stitch that cut in your foot, I am sure I could stitch a wound if I had to; and I can shoot.” She took his hands in hers. “Oh, Nicholas, I know when you married me I was a useless, helpless creature, but now I can truly be a good soldier’s wife. I won’t hold you up or demand your attention. I know this task you have to do is very difficult and of life-and-death importance, but I promise you, I won’t get in the way. Only please, Nicholas, do not send me away.”
Her words devastated Nick. She’d said much the same to him before, about all the things she’d learned, but he hadn’t taken it in. He hadn’t realized she was learning them for him, all those skills; training herself to be a good soldier’s wife. He turned away, rubbing a hand over his eyes, hardly able to stand the pain the knowledge caused him. To be a good soldier’s wife. What an irony.
“Do you have a headache?” she asked quickly.
He took her hand and kissed it. “No. Not this time.” Though it wouldn’t be long before it came again, and Nick had no idea of the state in which he would wake. The doctors had been unanimous—the periods of unconsciousness would increase, as would the disorientation and the loss of sensation in different parts of his body. He might even go insane—though they were not unanimous about that. What they all agreed on was that something was wrong in his head—something growing, perhaps—and that he would die slowly and in great pain.
And he was not going to put Faith through that.
He groped to think of a way he could save her dignity and get her away from him and safely back in England with her loving family.
“I’m sorry, my dear, but you have to leave. You cannot be with me when I do what I have come here to do.”
She opened her mouth to argue. He drew her toward him and said gently, “You have become a magnificent soldier’s wife. A man couldn’t ask for a better wife—soldier or not. You are not the problem here; I am. If you are with me, I will be distracted.” He gave her a wry look. “You distract me even when you try not to. The thing is, my love, you have become the most important person in the world to me.”
Her eyes filled with tears. “I’m sorry. I tried so hard n-not to get a-at-ttached.” Her voice wobbled on the last word. “But I couldn’t help it.”
He sighed and smoothed a golden curl back from her brow. “I know. I tried, too, but it was an impossible task, wasn’t it?”
“You? You got attached, too?” Her voice was a mixture of incredulity and
hopefulness.
“I did, but I should not have let myself. I tried to hide it from you, tried to stop you from telling me how you felt…I thought if we didn’t say the words it would somehow keep it in bounds, manageable.” He gave her a rueful look, “But the words are only part of it, aren’t they? They are important, but actions convey truth as well. So whether we speak of love or not, the feelings are there. And that is the problem.”
“How can love be a problem?” she whispered.
“A soldier must devote his full attention to the task. Your presence would complicate things enormously.”
She asked in a voice that trembled, “You mean if I stayed, it would be more difficult for you to do your duty.”
“Much more difficult.”
A tear rolled down her cheek. “And there is nothing I can learn or do that will make it easier for you to do what you must do?”
He gathered the tear on the tip of his finger. “It is not a matter of skills; it is a matter of who you are. You are Faith, for whom I would do anything. Faith, who I love with all my heart and soul and body.”
“Nicholas!” The tears poured from her eyes, and she clung to him for a long time, unable to speak. Eventually she recovered her composure enough to respond. “I love you so much, too, my darling. And I do not think I can bear to part from you.”
He kissed her gently, with a restraint that told her as much as any words that he was already pulling back from her. “You can. And you must.”
She knew what he was saying. He loved her. So much that he feared he would neglect his duty for her. For Nicholas, who took his honor and duty very seriously, that would be a terrible thing.
She had to leave. Whatever this mission he had been sent on, it must be very important. He had been a soldier since he was sixteen, putting honor and duty to his country before all else. It would destroy him, destroy them both, if she stayed and prevented him from doing his duty.
Nicholas loved her. Was there ever such a bittersweet declaration?
Morton Black obtained the passages and returned with the information that the boat would leave soon after dawn, weather permitting. They had one last night together, and though they didn’t discuss it, Faith and Nicholas were agreed: their last precious moments would not be wasted in sleep.
Anne Gracie - [Merridew Sister 03] Page 26
