His eyes had never turned hard when he looked at her. Not even now when she knew he was frustrated, hurt, and angry. She owed him the truth, especially now. She swallowed, her throat terribly dry.
“I imagined myself a poetess when I was sixteen,” she said in a croaky voice. “I used to sneak away from the house to lie amongst the daisies in the meadow, inspired by the beauty of nature to write verse.”
He watched her. “Go on.”
“I didn’t see him until he’d come close. He’d seen me, apparently from a hillock on the boundary between Debenham land and ours.”
Nicholas sat up with a frown. “Debenham land? For God’s sake, who?”
“John Post. George’s estate manager.”
“The man who cheated George out of thousands of pounds?”
She nodded. Her head felt too heavy for her neck. “I tried to run, but Post jumped off his horse and grabbed me.” Her voice trembled and she swallowed to calm herself. “He pushed me down onto the grass and forced my gown up over my head. I thought I would suffocate, and then he...ravished me.” Her face burned with shame remembering Post’s cruel face, his body crushing her, the rancid smell of him, the pain and the rutting noise he made. “I thought he would kill me, but he rode away and left me there. It took me ages to compose myself enough to go home.” The fear that followed caused nightmares for years.
“Why didn’t you tell your father?” he asked incredulously. He slid across and drew her into his arms, his big hand softly stroking her head. “He would have had him thrown into Newgate.”
“I was too ashamed to tell Father. And I was afraid. Only George knew.” The relief of confessing it to Nicholas was so profound, her body shuddered and she could scarcely breathe. “And there was another reason too.”
“Tell me, sweetheart,” Nicholas said softly.
“My father as you know, was part of the East India Company and we spent my early childhood in Madras in India. I had a sister, Emily, she was two years younger than me. She died when a cholera epidemic swept through the part of India where we were living. I was sent back to England with my nanny to stay with an aunt, and later, enrolled in a boarding school in Surrey. My parents returned home and bought Mirrington Manor and all their dreams rested upon me.” She turned to him. “So you see, Nicholas, I couldn’t inflict more pain on them.”
“My God. You poor, poor girl,” he murmured.
She buried her face into his shirt and broke into heart-wrenching sobs. She couldn’t stop for the life of her. “Post said if I told my father he would come back and murder us all. He’d set fire to the house. I believed him.”
Nicholas tensed against her. “The devil! I’ll find him, and when I do…!”
Caroline looked up at Nicholas through a misty veil of tears. She drew in a breath at his steely expression. He looked very frightening. This was the side of him that saw combat. He’d been so gentle and reasonable with her, she’d forgotten how dangerous she thought him at first sight. She shivered. She would not like to be his enemy. But at the same time a calmness enveloped her and her limbs went limp. He would protect her.
“I believed I could never marry. But George was my friend. It’s hard to describe, but he’d never tried to kiss me…or anything. After our marriage was arranged, I told him some of what had happened. He was furious and went to London to employ a Bow Street Runner to find Post.”
“When did George do this?”
“Earlier this year, but to my knowledge, nothing came of it.”
“What if the runner had found Post?” Nicholas stared into space. “And Post had come here to stop George from pursuing it further.”
Caroline shuddered. “Could he have been here that day and killed George?”
“Makes sense, doesn’t it.” Nicholas gently moved her aside and rose. “We’ll have dinner, and then you must retire, you are exhausted. I have work to do in the office. We will find out more tomorrow when the magistrate arrives.”
They picked at the meal barely speaking. He seemed deep in thought. Caroline watched him over the table. The way his long fingers held the wineglass. His every movement had grace. She wanted to reach out and take his hand in hers. But she had no right.
Rising from the table after dinner, Caroline rubbed her arms. “I don’t want to be alone.”
Nicholas turned to stare at her. “What do you mean, sweetheart?”
“Not…for that.” Caroline’s face heated. “It’s just that I feel safer when you’re nearby.”
His eyes caught and held hers. “How near?”
“Could you sleep in my bedchamber?”
“You want me to share your bed?”
She twisted her hands in her lap, and nodded, unable to say the words.
“All right.” He smiled. “You’ll be safe with me. I’m not in business of forcing ladies to my will.”
“I know that, Nicholas,” she said humbly. It was surprising that in such a short time she trusted this man. She would trust him with her life come to that. She would have liked him to hold her and perhaps to kiss her, but nothing more. She gasped realizing with a shiver of panic that she could not endure anything more. She should not have married Nicholas. It was unfair to him.
♥♥♥
Nicholas had remained downstairs giving Caroline time to change for bed. He’d searched George’s office and amongst the unpaid bills, found one for a thousand pounds to buy the stallion at Tattersalls, and another for the Bow Street Runner George had employed, a Mr. Peter Phillips. He could find no further correspondence between them. Was Phillips still working on the case? Or had he given up? Or worse, had Post got the better of him and killed him? He would have to go to Bow Street.
Later, as he lay in bed beside his wife, he rested his head on his arm and planned what he would do to John Post when he got his hands on him. It helped somewhat, as his body wasn’t listening to his brain. He could not ignore the sweetly perfumed person lying beside him. He’d been overconfident when he promised not to touch her. After he’d efficiently hung, drawn and quartered Post, he considered counting sheep, for he was deuced if he could sleep a wink.
Caroline was curled up asleep, her small hand resting under her cheek. She had been through so much, and was very brave. He was consumed with a fierce need to protect her.
The hours passed, Nicholas turned onto his side facing away from her. He’d counted two hundred sheep leaping a fence, and considered starting on rams, but decided perhaps that wasn’t such a good idea.
“Can’t you sleep?” Caroline asked sleepily, turning toward him.
“Too much to think about.” He rolled over to face her. “Did I wake you?”
She rested a hand on his arm. “I’m sorry.” She groaned. “Oh there I go again. I really am a useless wife. You should have found another bride. Why did you marry me?”
Her honest question floored him. He wanted to reassure her, and fought to resist pulling her into his arms. He wasn’t sure he could leave it at that. Why had he married her? It wasn’t merely his financial difficulties. Something about her had drawn him, her honesty certainly, but more than that. “Because I wished to.”
“You might have married any number of women who would welcome you into their beds. You would not have had any trouble, Nicholas.”
He smiled into the dark. “Wouldn’t I?”
“No. You’re very attractive.”
He grinned. “You find me attractive?”
“Stop fishing for compliments,” she said drowsily.
“Go back to sleep,” he said, although every fiber of his being wished her not to.
“I like having you in my bed,” she said, her voice foggy with sleep.
“Do you?” He began to hope that if he took it slowly he might show her...
“I trust you to keep me safe.” She yawned and turned over.
He cursed under his breath. She trusted him. How could a man overcome that? And, dammit, a firmly rounded derrière had settled against his groin. Nicholas st
ifled a moan and began counting sheep again.
Even with the discomfort of unfulfilled desire, he had to admit he liked having her beside him too. Amazingly, after another hundred sheep or so, he slept.
Chapter Ten
The next morning at breakfast, Caroline’s handsome husband, freshly shaved and wearing an olive green coat, buff breeches and highly polished hessians, outlined his plan for a trip to London.
“I don’t want to leave you here alone. You will have to go back to Mirrington Manor.”
She stared at him dismayed. “Then I’ll come to London with you.”
He shook his head. “That’s not a good idea. If we get a lead, Holmes and I could end up anywhere. Can’t you return to your parents for a short while?”
“Oh, no, Nicholas. Please don’t send me back home.” She put down her coffee cup. “Can’t I stay here? I have my maid. Heavens, I’m surrounded by servants. And surely Post has no reason to return here.”
He frowned. “Don’t be difficult, my sweet. I don’t want to worry about you.”
“But Nicholas, what should I say to Father? I don’t want him to know any of this. I’ve kept the truth from them for years, knowing how distressed they would be.”
He put down his knife and fork, and took a sip of ale. “They will hear about Post eventually.”
“But not all of it.” She firmed her chin. “And not until Post is found and dealt with.”
“I think it unwise for you to remain here, Caroline. Is there anywhere else you can go? An aunt perhaps.”
She put down her teacup. “Not without my parent’s learning of it.”
He sighed and his brows drew together. “Then you must promise me you’ll remain in the house. Don’t go wandering around the grounds on your own. And don’t ride.”
“I promise,” she said meekly. “What will you do in London?”
“Visit Bow Street and try to locate that runner. I’ll go wherever I have to, to find Post.”
Before she’d thought about it, she’d reached across and put her hand on his. “I’m afraid for you, Nicholas.”
He clasped her hand in his, a gleam of interest in his eyes. “I believe I’m well able to handle such as him.”
“I agree you are a soldier skilled in fighting wars and therefore far better equipped than most, but he’s an evil man. I…I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
“Don’t you?” he asked softly. He pressed a kiss to her palm. “I wouldn’t want to die without an heir.”
Caroline giggled.
“You find that funny?” he asked in a wounded tone that didn’t fool her.
“You are so easy to read, sir.”
He quirked an eyebrow and a smile hovered at the corner of his mouth. “Am I indeed?”
“Do you hope to leave me with child?” she asked, delighted that she’d surprised him.
Nicholas recovered quickly. “I’d welcome the opportunity.” He threw down his napkin and pushed back his chair. “Am I right in assuming you’ve changed your mind?”
Old fears and uncertainties rose and threatened to undo her. She wanted to say no, she hadn’t changed her mind. Fighting to remain resolute, she bit the inside of her cheek. She’d given a considerable amount of thought to this during the night as he slept beside her. She’d been drawn to him and wanted to rest in his arms, but could not. There was the danger that making love could possibly send her tumbling back into that dreadful nightmare she’d tried so hard to forget. But now she wanted to take that risk, to give herself to him. She owed him that much. He had after all, agreed to marry a despoiled woman. Why should he get such a poor bargain? She was tired of feeling ashamed and less than a woman, and as she trusted him with her life, why not her body? Unable to put these things into words, she nodded, although it cost her to do it.
Nicholas’ warm brown eyes widened. He took her hands and drew her to her feet. “Kettle!” The butler hurried from the next room. “When the constable arrives, tell him I’ll be down directly. Have him begin to question the staff. My lady and I have something to discuss. We do not wish to be disturbed.”
Kettle lowered his gaze discreetly. “Very well, my lord.”
Nicholas took her hand and led her up the stairs to his bedchamber. She had not been in this room before. A large heavily carved oak four-poster bed was hung with green damask bed hangings. It was a somberly decorated room, a man’s room, which made her feel even more nervous. She wanted to retreat, regretting her promise. “Shouldn’t we close the curtains?” She sucked in a breath when he began to untie the bow beneath the bodice of her muslin gown.
He grinned. “Who’s going to see us, the birds?”
Stripped of her morning gown, she stood in her shift, petticoat, drawers and stays. She needed more time, but she could not say that now. Her knees trembled as he removed the rest of her clothes, pausing to kiss her shoulder. She closed her eyes, but opened them again quickly, in an attempt to blot out the past. This was Nicholas, her strong, caring husband. When she was swept up in his arms and placed gently on the bed, she blushed at her nakedness, longing to crawl between the linen sheets.
He sat on the bed and removed his boots.
“It’s not fair that I am naked and you are still clothed,” she complained, covering herself with her hands.
“I couldn’t wait,” he said with a smile. “And my, what a lovely surprise you proved to be, madam wife.”
She couldn’t help smiling back. Her smile faded as he whipped off his shirt, exposing bare, broad shoulders and a chiseled chest that made her suck in a breath. His powerful body was perfectly proportioned, muscles rippling beneath his olive skin as he moved. Several scars did nothing to mar his beauty, but spoke of the life he’d lived. A puckered one near his shoulder and a longer scar which looked as if it had been life-threatening, snaked across his ribs.
His movements were quick and efficient, and within minutes, he strode boldly naked to the bed. His manhood was in proportion to the rest of him, large.
Her whole body quivered her stomach tightening. She pressed her thighs together.
When Nicholas sat on the bed, she drew her knees up to her chest and reached over to trace the scar across his ribs. “How did you get this?”
“A sabre slash.”
“You must have been badly hurt.”
“A superficial wound. The ball in my shoulder was more of a nuisance.”
“And this?” She put her hand to small scar on his cheek.
He merely smiled and upturned her hand pressing his lips to the rapid pulse in her wrist.
Nicholas’ hands on her knees eased her legs down. He rolled her against him, his smooth skin warm.
She swallowed, filled with a strange excitement, a mixture of fear and desire.
He took her hand and placed it on his manhood, which hardened at her touch.
“Oh!” She giggled and pulled her hand away.
He laughed, then his eyes grew serious. “You are the loveliest woman I’ve ever seen.”
“I’m not.” She was pleased, but doubted he meant it. He must have been with many far more beautiful women than she.
“To me you are, my love.”
His love? An endearment which meant little, but she liked to hear it. Truth be told, she was a little in love with him already, and wondered when she’d have the courage to tell him.
He pushed her gently back on the bed, his eyes on her mouth. “I won’t hurt you, Caroline.”
Her spine went rigid. She closed her eyes and then curiosity got the better of her. She opened them and almost gasped at the passionate intent she found in his eyes.
His first kiss was slow, thoughtful. But then his hungry kisses shattered her calm. She clung to his strong arms, and, as the pit of her stomach throbbed with nerves or desire, she forced herself to respond, to give him pleasure too, and began to explore his body, her hands sliding over his strong muscled back, feeling the tendons and bones beneath. His mouth left hers to nibble at an earlobe an
d then sear a path down her neck to kiss the pulse in the hollow of her throat.
He kissed her again teasing her lips apart. When his tongue stroked the inside of her mouth, a powerful charge raced through her, making her want to draw closer still.
“Beautiful,” he murmured as he cupped her breasts. When her nipples hardened under his ministrations she moaned at the exquisite feeling. “Like ripe raspberries.” He lowered his head to take them into his mouth.
She breathed in sharply and grasped his hair, as a heavy tugging sensation settled low in her stomach.
He swept his hands down over her belly and stroked between the soft folds to the sensitive nub beneath.
Caroline’s face grew hot, aware of how moist she was there. And then she didn’t care, as rampant sensations pushed every thought from her head.
The need built low in her belly as his finger drew delicate circles. The gripping sensation became too much and she tried to wriggle away.
“No, sweetheart.”
An urgent demand for release filled her every thought. Then she lost herself in the heat exploding in her belly and radiating out in waves. She sobbed and cried out his name.
“That’s right, sweetheart.” Nicholas’ voice was a low pleased growl. He eased her legs further apart and mounted her.
When his weight settled over her, Caroline tensed and her hands on his back stilled. For a brief moment, she bit her lip with an urge to push him off, but her body felt so languid. She held his shoulders, aware of his urgent breath, and his soft groan of pleasure as he pushed inside her.
It felt tight and uncomfortable, but not painful.
He kissed her neck below her ear. “Am I hurting you?”
When she shook her head, he pushed deeper inside her, moving steadily at a rhythmic pace. The discomfort faded. She was dimly aware of their panting breaths and her mewling cries of pleasure.
He paused, and his big hands framed her face. She opened her eyes, to find him watching her. “Next time will be better.”
“No.” She suddenly wanted to cry. “It’s perfect.”
His mouth claimed hers in a passionate kiss. Then his thrusts quickened until he groaned and grew still. Withdrawing, he lay beside her.
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