“Beth?”
She froze. Blast, but he’d seen her. She could continue on, pretend she hadn’t heard him. But he would know better. He always seemed to know.
“Mrs. Church,” he corrected himself.
She would not run. Slowly Beth turned, a smile plastered to her lips. The beautiful blonde watched them curiously. Seeing Nate’s handsome face, the breeze blowing through his hair, that dark jacket tight against his broad shoulders, made her heart lurch, her pulse quicken. She hated her body’s reaction. Hated herself for caring. But she would not show it. No, she’d had years of practice at hiding her feelings.
Beth inclined her head respectfully. “My lord.”
The beautiful blonde narrowed her eyes. “I know you, yes? We’ve met?”
Beth felt the blood drain from her face. Frantic, she searched her memory, attempting to remember her features. A beautiful woman, but there had been many stunning blondes in London. Slowly, the woman stood and headed toward her. Beth couldn’t move. She should have denied their acquaintance. Should have run. Instead, she merely stood there like a rabbit at the end of a hunting rifle.
“Elizabeth,” the woman said, a smile lighting her perfect lips. “Elizabeth Spencer. We met in London during your debut years ago. You were barely out of the schoolroom.”
Nate’s gaze jerked toward her. “Coming out?”
It was a simple comment, yet it meant so very much. Nate knew in that instant she wasn’t as she had portrayed herself. Anger, shock, confusion all flashed across his blue gaze. She didn’t dare lie to him anymore. In fact, part of her was eager to share the truth. A truth that had been weighing down upon her like a boulder on her chest for months.
“How is your husband, Lord Brockwell?”
“Lord?” Nate questioned, his voice hard, biting.
Beth forced herself not to cringe. It was at that moment that the blonde realized something was amiss, that perhaps she’d said too much. Her features went from curious to uncomfortable. Nate merely stood there glaring at Beth, as if completely oblivious to the blonde.
The woman smoothed down her skirts, and gave them a forced smile. “Well, I just remembered I’m late for something very important.”
She rushed off in a flurry of silken skirts, like an angel racing back to heaven, leaving disaster in her wake. She had no idea, no clue, what she had done. It was too late. Beth stood there completely and utterly exposed. Yet, she couldn’t deny that a part of her was relieved. As relieved as she was terrified. It was over…finally.
“I didn’t do it,” Beth whispered the moment the woman left.
“Do what, Beth?” He latched onto her upper arm and led her toward the bench. His grip was tight, almost painful. Yet, she knew he was holding back, just as much as she knew that he would explode when he uncovered the truth. “What happened?”
“Nothing. I did nothing.”
He shook her, his patience snapping. “What?”
Tears burned her eyes, his face blurring before her. She had to tell him. And when she told him, he would probably turn her over to the constable. Deep down she’d thought, had hoped, that perhaps Nate was different from other men. She had the horrible, sickening feeling he would prove her wrong, and that hurt more than the idea of being hauled off by the constable.
“I know this area well,” she started. “Very well.”
His brows furrowed, the confusion momentarily replacing his anger. “You’ve visited?”
She shook her head. There was so much to explain, she didn’t know where to start. “I got the position at your estate to escape this place.”
“Escape?” His grip grew tighter, his gaze so intense she couldn’t look away. “Escape what? Why would you need to escape?”
She couldn’t say it…she couldn’t because she knew that once he heard the truth things would change between them completely. He would no longer look at her with that heated desire in his gaze. He would no longer allow her to teach his children. He would no longer trust her.
The confusion in his eyes cleared and his gaze became hard and brittle once more. “Your husband.”
She swallowed hard and nodded.
“Damnation!” He closed his eyes, his grip loosening. “Which is why you’ve been so anxious. Shite, you’re still bloody married.”
He surged to his feet, his back to her.
“No,” she whispered, horrified by the thought.
He spun around, his anger like a slap to her face, stunning and shocking. She’d betrayed him, and she could see the hurt there, underneath his ire. “You’re actually going to deny it?”
“He’s dead, Nate. My husband was found with a broken neck.”
He stared at her long and hard. She could see the puzzle pieces falling into place as he finally understood. Nate was smart, too smart. He knew she’d been lying to him, using his home as a safe haven. Using him. Would he ever forgive her?
She only confirmed what he was thinking. “The constable thinks I killed him.”
He was silent for a moment, the only sound the whisper of the wind through the trees, and the rattle of the dead leaves. She wished desperately he would say something, anything. The silence was driving her mad.
“Did you?”
She took no offense to his question, was merely relieved he was still speaking to her. “No.”
He didn’t respond, but searched her gaze, looking for the truth. “You’ve been hiding at my estate all this time. Not there because you needed the position, nor wanted to help my children but because you were hiding from a crime.”
“Nate, please—”
That tic beat in the side of his jaw. “You put my family name in danger. My children in danger.”
The tears fell from her lashes and trailed down her cheeks. She could argue, but she felt too bloody guilty to say anything in her own defense. When she’d rushed off, intent on saving her neck from the hangman’s noose, she hadn’t been thinking about how her appearance would influence their lives. She’d expected to keep a respectable distance between herself, the lord of the house and his sons. But nothing had turned out as planned.
“Yes,” she whispered.
She certainly hadn’t expected to care so much for the boys. She hadn’t expected to be attracted to their father. And she most certainly hadn’t expected Nate to be attracted to her.
He swallowed hard. The look of hurt that flashed across his eyes nearly broke her heart. “You didn’t trust me.”
His words were like a sword to the chest. She hesitated, aching. Did he truly care if she trusted him? Trust meant affection, at the least. Friendship at the most. Had they been friends? She’d had so few she wasn’t sure. They’d certainly been lovers…almost. “I didn’t know you.”
“You know me now.” He shook his head, his hands curled at his sides. “I understand why you were nervous, why you didn’t tell me at first. But I trusted you. You hold my very secrets in your hands. You know so much about me.”
He paused, his jaw tightening.
What secrets, she wanted to demand? Yes, she had her suspicions, but he’d never truly told her everything. “That’s not fair.”
“I trusted you, Beth.”
She didn’t respond to his heartfelt speech. Lord, she wasn’t quite sure how to reply. She had a feeling there was something so very important not in his words, but in what he didn’t say.
“Nate,” she pleaded, standing.
Without response, he turned and started down the path, leaving her alone. Leaving her to wonder if she was safe under his protection or not. The pressure in her chest she’d been fighting returned, leaving her gasping for air. Beth wrapped her arms around herself and sank onto the bench.
In that moment, as Nate disappeared into the trees, she realized there were worse things than being accused of murder, like betraying the trust of someone you loved.
Bloody hell, she loved him.
Chapter 14
“Is that father?” John asked.
Los
t in her thoughts, the question startled Beth and she jumped. She felt as if she’d been caught in a compromising position. “Do you think it looks like him?”
The boy sidled up next to her and studied the painting through narrowed eyes. She attempted to feign ease, but truth was she felt horrified. Yes, the watercolor was Nate. As were the twenty other drawings and paintings that filled her book.
John nodded, his glasses slipping down his nose. “Oh yes, looks exactly like him.”
Embarrassed, Beth snapped the book closed, even though the painting hadn’t dried. “Have you finished your sums?”
“No.” He sighed and shuffled back to the desk and the other boys. Fortunately he asked no further questions, nor did he seem to think her reaction odd. If they had any inkling that she cared for their father, she could very well ruin the tenacious relationship they had managed to form in the two months she’d been with them.
“You’ll want to finish your work if you wish to play with the other children later,” she reminded them. Although it was early, carriages had been arriving all morning. Beth hadn’t realized the gathering would contain so many. It made her uncomfortable, of course. Who else would recognize her?
“Yes, miss,” they muttered as one.
Beth tore her attention away from the approaching gathering, and instead focused on her artwork. Only Meg had seen her pictures. Her friend had given her the confidence to realize that she was quite good at painting.
And Nate was an interesting study, to say the least. Any artist would find fascination with the man. It wasn’t merely that he was stunning, for there were many attractive men in England. It was that he practically vibrated with energy, with life. Even when he was angry, the man intrigued her. She glanced up to make sure the boys were occupied, then opened her book once more, merely to get another peek. It was the very air around him, the essence of his being that drew one’s attention. He radiated power.
She hadn’t heard a word from Nate since she’d admitted the truth about her husband. Yet, the constable hadn’t arrived to arrest her either. Until she knew how he would react, she didn’t dare relax. There was no doubt Nate would let her go from her position, but would he let her go free? Meg told her not to worry, but her friend didn’t know Nate like Beth did. Loyalty was of utmost importance, and she didn’t blame him with the way his wife had acted.
With tentative fingers, she reached out and touched a drawing. Unable to sleep, she’d found herself awake that first week late at night, and couldn’t resist drawing his likeness. It was silly really. She doubted he thought much about her, if at all. Especially after yesterday’s revelation. While she’d grown obsessed.
There was a soft knock right before the door opened. “My lady.” The maid who’d been assigned to them peeked inside. “May I speak with you?”
“Of course.” Beth pushed away from her desk, and gave the boys a pointed glance, a silent warning to behave. Not that they would listen. She knew the moment she stepped into the hall they would ignore their work for more pleasing activities. She only prayed those activities wouldn’t involve breaking of windows or bones. “Yes?”
“I know it’s not my place,” the young maid started, nervously wringing her hands together. “But everyone is so busy with the guests arriving and…and…”
Beth could hear the boys arguing, and was impatient to return to the room. “Yes?”
“Lord Brimley. He’s not answering his door.”
Beth sighed. Really, what utter nonsense. Nate wanted nothing to do with her, he’d made it quite clear by ignoring her. Why should she care if he was in his room or not? A loud thump coming from the children’s quarters made her cringe. Nate kept odd hours, perhaps he’d gone for a ride. “And did you check the dining room? The gardens?”
The woman flushed. “Sarah, the scullery maid went to his room at dawn to start the fire and the door was locked.”
Beth frowned. That was a bit odd. “Did you contact Mr. Bellamont?”
“He’s out riding, my lady, with the Mrs. Bellamont. And, well…we didn’t want to bother him for something that might not be important.”
An inkling of unease tip-toed down her spine. Beth hesitated, unsure what to believe. It was silly really, and most likely Nate was out for a stroll. So why did her worry flare? “Watch the boys, will you?”
Apprehension lit the maid’s eyes, telling Beth Nate’s son’s had already gained a reputation here. Blimey, all of England would know to avoid the lads by the time they were grown. They’d never find proper marriages. “But, my lady—”
Beth started down the narrow hall. “If they misbehave, tell them they will be forced to do school work the rest of the day, instead of going to the gathering this evening.”
“But—”
“And if that doesn’t work, tell them it will be Brussel sprouts for dinner.”
“Yes, but…”
Beth ignored her and headed down the stairs toward the floor that held their important guests. Worry made her steps quick, her heart thunder. But the closer she got to Nate’s door, the more she began to wonder if her anxiety was for naught. Perhaps he wasn’t even there. Mayhap he’d headed to town and never returned, drunk and happy next to a woman more liberal than she. Her husband had left to visit the whorehouses upon more than one occasion.
She paused in indecision outside his door. What if he had a woman inside that room? The beautiful blonde he’d been chatting with in the gardens? The thought was like a sudden slap to her face, leaving her angry and breathless. Beth lifted her fist and knocked. Something fell from inside the room, a clatter of a dish? She pressed her ear to the door and could hear the hard thump of footsteps. She waited a few moments, but no one came.
She knocked again. “Nathan?”
No response. How very strange. She started to turn away, intending to find Meg when the lock on the door screeched back. Beth froze. The door creaked open.
“Nathan?” she whispered.
She only had time to catch a glimpse of the shadowed room, a shadowed man, before he reached out. His hand clasped onto her wrist and he jerked her inside, slamming the door behind them. She stifled her scream as she found herself flattened to the closed door. Nate’s hard body pressed forward, pinning her to the wooden panel.
But she wasn’t afraid, merely startled, for she realized that she trusted him, despite what he claimed. She shifted, unsure if she was uneasy or wanted more. Could feel every hard muscle, breathed in his spicy scent. The intimacy of the moment surrounded her, leaving her dizzy and confused.
“I am not feeling well,” he whispered, his warm breath stirring the loose tendrils that had escaped her practical bun.
His heart hammered wildly against her chest. The beat too fast. The heat that radiated from him was almost unbearable. She couldn’t be this close to him. Suffocating on his presence, on emotions she didn’t understand. Couldn’t think, breathe. “Yes, well. No doubt some light and fresh air would do you good.”
Desperate for freedom, she darted around him and raced toward the windows. The entire room smelled of his familiar aftershave, a scent that made her belly warm and that space between her thighs ache. She didn’t want to be attracted to him. Didn’t want to want him.
Before he could protest, she threw the curtains wide. Nate slumped against the door, his face pale, clothes wrinkled, and his beautiful eyes squinting in protest against the sudden sun. He looked an utter mess, so that her worry burst anew. The very man she’d met that first day of her arrival at his estate had reappeared. The man who had paced his bedchamber while Mrs. Turner had locked him inside that mysterious night.
“Nate.” She started toward him, only to hesitate. The sweat upon his brow made her nervous. Did he have a fever? “You’re ill.”
He released a harsh laugh, his hands fisting at his sides. He wore only a linen shirt that hung open, his muscled chest glistening.
“It’s not amusing.” She continued toward him, and pressed her hand to his cheeks. His s
kin burned. Startled, she drew back. No human could survive such heat. “Good God, we must call for a doctor. Get some ice…”
She started to reach for the door knob, but he grabbed her wrists in a tight grip. There was more beast than man in his gaze. “No doctor can help me, Beth. You know that.”
There, in the depths of his gaze, beyond the wildness of the animal that lurked within, was the truth. She knew, deep down, she’d known the moment she’d met him that he was different. But what? The image of Allen turning from a wolf into a naked human haunted her dreams. She’d pointed a gun at a wolf, but had somehow killed a man. Was Nate also…
No. It was impossible. Nate was not Allen.
“I don’t.” She shook her head, desperate and confused. “I know nothing.”
“You know there is something different about me, Beth.” He jerked her up hard against his chest, his touch almost desperate. The haunted look in his gaze nearly did her in. “Something wrong with me.”
“Don’t say that,” she whispered, her voice catching with emotion. She’d heard her parents and husband say so often that there was something wrong with her, that she couldn’t bear to hear it said about someone she respected and cared for. Someone she loved. “There’s nothing wrong with you!”
He was the strongest man she’d ever met, yet the vulnerability in his eyes was like an arrow shot directly through her heart. She cared. She cared too much, when she said she would never care about a man again. Unable to help herself, she reached out, resting her hand on the side of his face, the scruff rubbing erotically against her palm.
“You are a wonderful man,” she said softly.
“You don’t understand what I really am. Not truly.” He took in a deep trembling breath. “If you did, you wouldn’t be here. You sure as hell wouldn’t say such kind things about me.”
A Night of Redemption (The Night Series Book 2) Page 19
