It's Always Been You

by Victoria Dahl

  She narrowed her eyes.

  “Get in the carriage and I’ll tell you.”

  Marissa didn’t bother hiding her triumphant smile. “Wonderful,” she said as she stepped up into the carriage.

  Aidan tucked a warming pan beneath her boots, then unfolded a blanket and placed it carefully over her. He was abruptly reminded of Marissa as a small girl. The bright happiness in her eyes when he would agree to read her a bedtime story. The utter trust in her face as she’d smiled up at him. My God, she’d been so young. And so had he. Now everything was different except his love for her.

  “I can’t tell you everything, Marissa.”

  “Are you in love with a married woman?”

  “I am.”

  She scowled. “It’s not that awful Mrs. Renier, is it?”

  “Excuse me?” Heat fell over him in a wave of mortification.

  “Everyone knows you’re lovers. She crowed about your deep affection for her all last Season.”

  “I . . . I . . .” His little sister knew about Mrs. Renier? What else did she know? “No,” he finally breathed. “It’s not Mrs. Renier.”

  “Thank God! Who is she, then?”

  “I can’t tell you. It wouldn’t be appropriate.”

  For a moment—a long moment—it seemed she would argue. Her jaw pushed out. Her eyes narrowed. But after a few heartbeats, Marissa’s face softened again. She reached out a hand and touched her fingertips to his jaw. “Whoever she is . . . are you certain you love her?”

  That was a much easier question to answer. “I am,” he said. “I haven’t a doubt in my mind.”

  Marissa’s eyes filled with tears.

  Aidan pressed his hand over hers and felt the warmth of her fingers against his face.

  “She’s another man’s wife. How can you be sure of her?”

  “Because I know her, Marissa.” He took a deep breath. “As I used to know myself.”

  “Oh, Aidan,” she sighed. “Then you must do whatever you can, however hopeless.”

  “I will,” he promised. “Now get back to bed.”

  The warmth of Marissa’s hug stayed with him after she’d gone, and Aidan set off for London feeling more relaxed than he had in years.

  Chapter 23

  Kate had forgotten the filthy state of the Thames. The water of the Humber was smooth and clean, the Hull flowed clear and sparkling. The Thames seemed not to be water at all, but a murky brew of sewage and dead fish parts.

  Covering her nose with two handkerchiefs, she tried to hold her breath as the train passed over the river. The smell didn’t help the nervous rolling of her stomach, and when the train finally pulled to a stop in the station, she breathed a shaky sigh of relief.

  After a quick descent with the one satchel she’d brought, Kate scanned the station. Aidan had written that a carriage would be here to meet her. There were plenty of elegantly attired coachmen milling about; no doubt one of them waited for her. She stepped quickly down the walk, not daring to glance at the people around her.

  “Mrs. Hamilton?”

  A young man in gray livery approached, his face friendly and trustworthy and completely unremarkable except that he had one blue eye and one brown.

  “Oh. Um, yes, I’m Mrs. Hamilton.”

  He caught her stare and winked. “I know it’s a bit startling at first, ma’am. I’m John Dunn. Mr. York sent me to fetch you. May I take you to the carriage?”

  Kate swallowed hard and clutched her bag tighter.

  “No need to worry, ma’am. I’ll fetch your luggage.”

  “Oh, no. I’ve nothing else.” The chaos around her threw her completely off kilter. Unable to do anything but follow John Dunn, she hurried behind him, marveling at the way he forcefully parted the crowds. The mad jumble of voices thinned as they walked a small distance to the line of coaches awaiting their passengers, but her nerves still jangled.

  “There we are, ma’am.” She glanced with some alarm at the coach he indicated and wondered, as he opened the door, how he could know it was the right one. They were all black and very few showed any sort of arms on the door. He handed her up as she said a quick, irrational prayer that this coach was headed to Aidan’s home and not to some other Mr. York.

  Just as she scrambled into a seat, a hand emerged from the opposite side of the coach to squeeze her knee.

  “Eee!”

  Aidan’s deep laugh sounded in the dark. “That’s not quite the welcome I hoped for.”

  “My word,” she gasped, pressing a hand hard to her closed throat. “You scared the devil out of me!”

  “That’s unfortunate. I was planning for a rather devilish woman this evening.”

  “Now you’ll have to settle for a jumpy one.” Her voice was tart, but she couldn’t help melting into him when he pulled her onto his lap. Immediately forgetting her irritation, she nestled her cheek against the smooth lapel of his jacket. “I thought perhaps you were too busy to fetch me.”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t have missed this for the world.” His hand traced a smooth path down her skirt. “But I thought it unwise to march out and collect you myself—potential for scandal and all.” His last words were spoken against her mouth as they both turned to taste each other.

  Kate kissed him with happy eagerness, matching each thrust of his tongue with a passion more than equal to his. She’d had the past weeks to think about him. To think about what he meant to her and what she might mean to him. He wanted her, she didn’t doubt that, and she wanted him too. If only it could be that simple.

  In a tender motion that brought tears to her eyes, he held her head between his hands and covered her face with sweet, small kisses. “I’ve missed you, Kate.”

  She captured his mouth again and kissed him deeply, trying to convey how very much she’d missed him too. She was afraid to say it, afraid he’d be able to hear that he’d been all she thought of.

  Aidan pulled her closer until she pressed tight against him, his arousal against her hip a confirmation of his words. When his hand brushed her breast, the world shuddered and shifted.

  “Oh my,” she whispered, and laughter rumbled up in his chest.

  “That was Dunn,” he explained with a smile in his voice. “Though I’m flattered you think I’m that good.”

  She heard John Dunn’s voice then and the carriage began to roll forward, settling into its motion. Happiness bubbled inside her as Aidan laughed, and she hid her embarrassed face against his neck.

  He held her cuddled tight against him for the few minutes it took to reach his home, then escorted her quickly into the foyer. She was only able to steal a quick glance around at cream walls and gilt mirrors before finding herself before a rather dour butler.

  “Madam,” he intoned. “A maid will take you to your room directly.”

  “Thank you, Whitestone,” Aidan interrupted, “but I’ll give her a tour.”

  “Of course, sir.”

  The door closed behind them, the butler disappeared, and they were alone.

  Kate wanted to look around, to take in the whole of his home, but when Aidan took her hand and tugged her toward the stairs, she had no urge to resist. All she could think was: This is Aidan, holding my hand, drawing me up the staircase to a bedchamber. This is Aidan, smiling back at me with all the joy of a young boy.

  It seemed only a heartbeat passed before she was standing before a set of carved doors.

  “Your chambers,” Aidan said solemnly, swinging both doors open.

  An enormous sitting room spread out before her, decorated in soothing colors of rose and mossy green. It was beautiful, perfect, as if it’d been decorated especially for her. A thick rug cushioned the floor nearly from wall to wall, swirling flowers of cream and pink and pale green across the room. The furniture was light and delicate, the pillows smooth silk. Evening light fell softly through the wall of windows, setting everything dreamily aglow.

  The rooms were obviously meant for the lady of the house and Kate felt a thrill of frighte
ning anticipation, picturing herself living in these rooms, receiving Aidan here every morning as she took her tea. She could just make out the foot of the bed through a doorway. A different kind of thrill shot through her body at the sight.

  A footman swept past with her satchel, interrupting her fantasy, and then two maids arrived, one bearing a tea tray, the other a ewer filled with steaming water. Once finished with their duties—and with curious glances all around—the three servants left, and she was alone with Aidan.

  “Is the room to your liking?”

  “It’s absolutely the most beautiful room I’ve ever seen.”

  Aidan nodded, looking serious. “I’m glad. Would you like me to summon your maid?”

  “My maid?”

  “Yes, we found her on the best of references, and I’ve been assured of her discretion.”

  “But . . .” Kate’s mind spun with the realization of what she was engaging in. “What must your household think?”

  “My household? My household is happy if I am happy. And I am happy.”

  Kate felt such a wild warmth inside her chest that she had to swallow several times before she could speak. “Yes, I will need help dressing for dinner,” she whispered, and Aidan smiled.

  “Then I will ring for her and leave you alone.” He started to walk out, but his steps slowed before he reached the door. When he turned back, he wore a crooked smile that turned him twenty-one again. “I feel nervous,” he said, “to have you here.”

  She couldn’t help but answer his smile. That warmth was still there, eating away at her in gentle nips. “But why?”

  “It feels new, doesn’t it? Being here together.” He ducked his head, seeming embarrassed by his own words as he stepped out and closed the door behind him. But Kate knew what he meant. It did feel new. That same kind of newness that had urged them toward indiscretion so long ago.

  He’d looked just like that when they’d walked home that day, his smile sheepish and happy, hers shy and glowing. Anything had seemed possible at that moment. Everything had been new.

  Maybe that was true today as well.

  Kate turned back to the luxury of the room, surprised to find laughter welling in her chest. The room was beautiful. Worthy of a princess and finer than any room in her father’s home. She strolled around, taking in the little details of beauty. Whom had it been decorated for? The previous owner? A previous lover? But no, Aidan had been clear that he’d never spent a full night with another woman. Certainly none had ever lived in his home.

  With a sigh, she stroked the delicate fabric of the sheer curtains.

  She’d thought she’d never even consider marrying again. But now she had this feeling inside, this joy. It was a bubble in her soul, expanding every day, crowding out her pain and her anger and even all the sharp anxiety. But she was trying not to let it grow too big, because if she let it take over, if she let it grow and grow until it filled her, became her, she would be leaving herself open to terrible pain. What would happen if that bubble popped, what would she have left? What would be left of her?

  If it were only joy or love, she could ignore it. Or be satisfied with nothing more than an occasional night with him.

  But she was beginning to think that Aidan actually needed her. It would never have even occurred to her. He was handsome, witty, confident. He was rich—successful in his own right. And he’d always been a happy soul. She’d never have known his life had been changed by her disappearance. Certainly, he’d admitted to her that word of her death had devastated him, but he’d been young. He’d recovered, and quite well from what she’d seen.

  But he had changed. She’d been seeing him as he once was. The lighthearted younger brother of a loving family. The kind, sought-after young bachelor. The self-possessed, funny, handsome friend of everyone he met. But there were the little things he’d said in passing. The hint of steel clouds behind the grass green of his eyes. The mouth that settled into a serious line when he was thinking.

  When he was near, she’d only been aware of the changes in herself. She’d been self-conscious of the loss of her youth and good-humor. So many hours had been wasted worrying about what he saw when he looked at her that she hadn’t spent enough time looking at him.

  But now that she could see him, she didn’t know what to do. How could she tell him that every day she’d spent with him was a lie? She couldn’t. But she had to. Because according to the Ceylonese papers, Gerard Gallow had left for England a month ago, and she was scared to death. But here, with Aidan, she felt safe.

  “I’m at a complete loss for words,” Aidan said as he took in the vision of Kate. It wasn’t just the pretty blue dress. It wasn’t the elaborate twist of her hair. It was her spirit. She knew how wonderful she looked, how delicious.

  The dress was simple—full skirt, cap sleeves, and a modest neckline. But the color lay like water against her body, bringing out the beauty of her cream skin.

  She knew the effect she had on him, he could see that. The way her eyes watched, measuring his looks, laughing her encouragement. She was enjoying it, and Aidan felt his body swell with lust. He had to turn away from her to stare at the fire and gather his control.

  He’d brought Kate here to spend time with her and he hadn’t seen her the whole two hours since she’d arrived. The whole two hours and fourteen minutes since she’d arrived.

  He’d wanted her the moment he’d seen her, but he hadn’t known what to say. He could hardly ask her to disrobe the moment she crossed the threshold. She wasn’t a whore come to service him.

  “Aidan?”

  The soft, hesitant word was a slide of silk over his spine as he turned back to her. The little coal of heat that had burned inside him all evening flared to life, sending waves of fire through his body. Then she smiled—and he melted.

  “Thank you for coming,” he finally said, stupidly.

  “To dinner?” she teased as she took a few more steps into the drawing room.

  He smiled back until he realized he’d been grinning like an idiot for nigh on a minute. “Would you like a drink before we eat?”

  “That would be lovely.”

  He opened the bottle and filled two glasses, but one glance in her direction and he had to stop, to watch as she slowly circled the room, taking it in.

  A pang of sadness struck him, a bite like the taste of medicine, bitter on his tongue. If she’d never been stolen from him, if her parents hadn’t sent her away, this scene would’ve had a different premise entirely.

  They would, perhaps, have been enjoying a drink in the drawing room before departing together for a party. Or they may have already settled in for an evening in front of the fire after an early dinner. Surely they’d have already grown into the comforting, passionate friendship of a happy marriage. There would’ve been children upstairs, readying for bed.

  She turned then and caught him watching, so he set his melancholy thoughts carefully aside. Useless, to spend time on regrets. He only had these few nights alone with her. For now.

  Tilting her head, she smiled in question. “What is it? You look so . . . mysterious.”

  “Mystery. An admirable addition to any romance.”

  “I’m sure I’ve had enough mystery in my life to last well into my old age.”

  “Yes, I’ll have to agree with you.”

  They met in the middle of the room, but instead of giving her the wine, he set the glasses on a small table and pulled her into a gentle kiss.

  “You look beautiful.”

  “Thank you. The maid was quite helpful with my hair.”

  “I’m glad she’s useful, but I rather regret her attention to detail. You were locked in that room for a very long time.”

  Coming up to her tiptoes, Kate lightly bit his lip. “I’m here now.” A pulse of heavy blood traveled to the lower parts of his body.

  “You certainly are. All of you.” He leered down the bodice of her gown, making her throw back her head with another of those arousingly throaty lau
ghs.

  “Perhaps we’d better have dinner.”

  “Appetizer,” he growled, sinking to his knees before her, tugging one side of her bodice down as he went. He put his mouth to the rising mound of her breast, feeling her flesh strain against her shocked gasp. The gasp deepened, then softened to a groan when he let his hand explore the sweet curve of her calf. Dinner could wait, but he could not.

  Thirty minutes later, Kate walked into the dining room on impossibly weak legs. Aidan smiled innocently when she tripped over the rug, tightening his hold on her elbow without a word.

  She gratefully took the seat he offered and tried hard to hide the shaking of her hands when she touched the table. Her body was drained and limp, yet still charged with an underlying tension that likely had to do with Aidan’s burning green eyes. There was a palpable heat hovering around him, and just watching his fingers as he curled them around the wineglass sent a shiver of need through her belly.

  She couldn’t tear her gaze away as he lifted the glass to his mouth, and when she saw his lips part, she licked her own.

  “You’ll have to stop looking so damned tempting, Kate, or we’ll never make it through this.”

  “Sorry,” she breathed, thinking of the way he’d touched her, the life he’d drawn from her body.

  She jumped when he stood abruptly and threw his napkin to the table. “Forget the food—”

  The dining room door swung open, and he froze like a wild dog interrupted during its feeding. Kate thought he might growl at the poor footman, but he only gritted his teeth and sat with a ferocious frown.

  The linen of the napkin hid her smile when he turned the frown on her.

  “Is something funny?”

  She shook her head.

  “I think I shall repay you for your distinct lack of sympathy later.”

  When she raised her eyebrows in mock alarm and received a remarkably wolfish grin in response, her amusement faded to a curious wonder at what he planned. She couldn’t wait to see. It was obviously something worthy of anticipation.