Nash's Niche (Behind Closed Doors)

by McAllan, Raven

  "Perry, you embarrass Felicity," Nash said. "She is yet to get used to our ways. I apologize for my brother, love. He seems to have forgotten any manners thrashed into him as a youth."

  "Thrashed?" It sounded terrible. Felicity knew school for boys could be brutal, but it had never been brought home to her just how so. "That is barbaric."

  "Just so, and I was the good scholar," Perry said. "But school didn't differentiate. It was thought we all needed strict discipline and they doled it out accordingly."

  Nash rubbed his arse and rolled his eyes. "Oh yes. And I dare say for all the times we were punished, for no reason, there was a time we should have been caned and were not. It did us no harm."

  Felicity wasn't so sure, but chose not to say so. There was a closed look on Peregrine's face, and his eyes had clouded.

  "Enough of the past. We need to move on. I have heard that the danger to us all is still very real. Devon really will be best for you. Not only that, Felicity, your papa has left his home and no one seems to know where he is. Likewise Welland. Before you start to worry, I've arranged for his wife to be taken somewhere safer, and to be cared for. Things are moving fast. Nash, you do need to go soon, as in within the hour. You need to be away before dawn."

  It hit Felicity that something was very wrong. Nash and Peregrine seemed to understand each other without further words, because Nash nodded and turned to her.

  "I fear your slumber will be in a coach with my arm as a pillow, not in a bed with my…." He winked. It looked an effort, but Felicity appreciated he was trying to lighten the atmosphere.

  "With your what?" she asked in the same vein.

  "My chest, of course."

  “Ah, of course. So." She turned to Peregrine. "Tell me what I have to do. What should I pack?"

  "Nothing. There is no time. When I said within the hour, I meant everything was ready. I have a decoy coach waiting just in case it is needed. Nash will take you cross the park to where your coach awaits, and you will hopefully leave without any problems. The sooner you both go, and the sooner I get Harry and Martin on their way north, the sooner I can sort this mess out."

  Felicity was glad she wasn't his enemy. His implacable face bode ill for the miscreants.

  "Then let's go." She turned to Nash, who was unusually quiet. "Nash? I'm with you in all we do."

  She didn't think he even heard her.

  "My kennels?" The urgency with which he emphasized his words shamed her. She'd spared no thoughts to his livelihood, or worse to his hounds.

  The air was heavy, and the silence only broken by a coal as it shifted in the grate. The scrap as it moved against another one made her jump.

  "My hounds?" Nash's voice was harsh and Felicity watched the pulse in his neck beat erratically. He lifted his arm toward Peregrine and dropped it. "My hounds?" he asked again.

  "Will be safe. You have my word."

  For a long moment Nash stared at Peregrine. Then he nodded. "Then we will go."

  Chapter Eighteen

  "Papa is goodness knows where, Randall has his own worries, Harry has perhaps experimented once too often and met his just rewards." Nash settled back against the squabs, and cuddled Felicity into him, as he struggled to once more set his thoughts in order and tell her everything he knew. It was their fifth long day on the road south, and both of them were heartily bored with sitting inside for hours on end. Even the stops to change horses had to be achieved at the lesser used posting inns, and as daylight hours were short, the time taken to do the journey was greater than in the long days of summer. The horses at each stage were not what Nash was used to, nor able to do the distances he normally covered with one pair. But, he thought philosophically, since they were travelling as Mr. and Mrs. Cotton, it would have provided food for thought if they used the popular posting stages.

  Peregrine had thoughtfully provided them with attire fitted to their supposed station, a humble clerk and his wife. The first night on their journey, in a bed with springs that not only squeaked, but also stuck up in the more inappropriate places, Nash cursed his brother to perdition and back.

  Felicity had just laughed. "I'll sleep on you."

  Her manner of sleeping on him had made up for all the discomfort as she wrapped her lips around his cock and sucked and laved until he filled her mouth with his seed. Not until he was sated and limp had she lifted her head. Her lips were still covered in his juices, her eyes were bright, and her skin flushed. "To do that is worth any discomfort we might meet," she said.

  Nash agreed, and repaid the favor. As he took her nub into his mouth, and listened to her soft gasps and mewls he decided it was worth any discomfort they might encounter to be able to love her, and have it reciprocated.

  Now, though, he wished the journey to be over. He'd have preferred to be in his phaeton with Felicity sitting next to him. However, it had been deemed the journey too long, and too dangerous and such an open vehicle might have drawn attention to them.

  He looked out of the window. "We should reach Cecy's home before dusk," he said. "We have one more stop, change horses and then they should last unless you wish to freshen up again."

  "Let's just finish as fast as we can," Felicity answered him almost before he finished speaking. "I dream of a hot bath, a hot meal that is edible and a hot body—yours. Sadly, in that order." She stroked his cheek, and her touch left a trail of fire on his skin. Would the day ever come when his body didn't respond so immediately to her presence or her touch? Nash didn't think so. He tugged her closer, aware of the fatigue and fear she held so rigidly in check.

  "Love, it will work out. You’ve done so well, and I know it hasn't been easy. Look we’re on the outskirts of Newton Bushell." A few straggling houses had appeared at the side of the highway. "We'll change horses and then 'tis not much more than ten miles to our destination. Randall told me it is a tight and twisty road, though, so local horses are best. I have directions, and when we reach the nearest village we will be escorted." Or so he hoped. He had no idea how that was going to happen, but he trusted his brother would have sorted it all out.

  "Whatever is best, I am so weary that only the thought of being legally yours is keeping me going."

  He blinked. Even though Felicity had agreed to marry him and had said it was what she wanted, she had been somewhat reticent about how she really felt regarding their approaching nuptials. A glow of pleasure spread through him. It was so strong it made his body tighten and his senses peak. He smelled her scent, the lavender of the soap and toilet water she habitually used, and something more. Something that was simply 'Felicity' to him. He knew if he were blindfolded in a room full of women he would be able to pick her out by his sense of her alone.

  "Then we must hope Cecy has everything in hand." The coach clattered over cobbles and turned sharply through an archway. "At last, the final stop before we arrive." He opened the door and jumped out before he turned to give a hand to Felicity to help her down onto the ground. "We'll freshen up whilst they change the cattle, and be on our way as soon as possible. This inn is somewhat busier than the others we've used but it's the only one suitable. We'll dally as little as possible." He ushered her toward the entrance as the ostlers began the business of harnessing a new pair of horses. "The men with have time enough for a jug of ale whilst we are inside." He took her arm, and together they walked indoors. A smiling landlord with red face and chubby cheeks came bustling toward them.

  "Now then, sir, can I be helping you?" He was genial, but, Nash noted with amusement, only to the level a lowly couple such as they portrayed would be worthy of. Nash slipped into his role as Mr. Cotton, clerk, with ease, and asked in a most diffident manner if "victuals could perhaps be provided?"

  The landlord stared at him. "Begging your pardon but I’ll need to see the readies," he said bluntly. Nash had expected it. Every house at which they had stopped demanded cash. Luckily, Peregrine had handed over a roll of notes before they left Rutland. Nash had split them into small wads, designed to show t
hat although he wasn't flush, he was capable of paying their way. He took one out and handed some over to the landlord. The landlord bowed once more.

  "If you would like to come into this parlor, I will have a light repast with you in a trice." He opened a door, and ushered them inside a snug parlor. Unremarkable in its decor, but private, which was all Nash could ask for. If nothing else the journey had given him an appreciation of things he had taken for granted, like a well-aired and comfortable bed, and good horses.

  He threw his cape over the back of a settle and helped Felicity out of her cloak. There was a cheerful fire blazing in the small grate, and although it was still daylight, the landlord had lit a lamp and set it on the table. Nash judged they had two hours before dusk, and should reach Cecy's home before dark.

  He mulled over what they might expect once they reached there. Peregrine had said someone would meet them and take them to where they would be safe, but not when. Nash hated not being in charge, and hoped to hell someone was going to be around. So far nobody had approached them.

  There was a knock on the door, and a young girl came in carrying a tray with a plate of pastries and a jug with steam rising from it, and a tankard.

  "There's chocolate for you, ma'am." She bobbed a curtsey toward Felicity. "Ale for you, sir, and Ma says eat the pastries while they're nice and hot, she's just taken them out of the oven."

  Nash thanked her, and handed her a coin. She smiled and thanked him before she left the room.

  "We'd best do as Ma says." Nash grinned, and held a chair out for Felicity to sit. "Tuck in, they look good."

  "They are." Felicity spoke with her mouth full and spluttered some crumbs. "Oops, I do beg your pardon." She swallowed and drank some chocolate. It left a dark ring on her lips, and Nash leaned forward to touch it with his tongue. The warm chocolate scented the air, and hinted at all things hot and mysterious. As he traced the outline of her lips she moaned, and he chuckled. She was so receptive to his touch; it was hard not to take her there and then and to hang with the world, their worries, and what lay ahead. He put his finger to his lips and sucked the thick liquid that coated it. In his mind it tasted of Felicity and nothing else.

  "Mmm, delicious. Have you ever wondered what it would be like to have chocolate all over you, and for me to lick it off? To let me paint you, and taste my designs. I wonder where the brush would go?"

  Her eyes widened and her breath speeded up. As ever Nash's cock hardened and his balls tightened in anticipation. Damn. If only. He sat back in his chair. "I suggest we hold that thought until we have time to explore the possibility."

  Felicity gave a shaky laugh. "I'll never look at a cup of chocolate in the same light again." She wiped her hands on the coarse napkins they'd been given and wandered over to the window. "It could do with a clean," she said, and peered through it. "It is certainly popular here. There are so many carriages arriving and departing it's amazing the ostlers can cope. Oh my, you should see this one, it's very fancy. I wonder who on earth would travel in something like that? And there is one so grimy you would think it had been…Oh, Nash. Nash, look." The urgent tone in her voice made him stand up so fast the chair rocked before settling back on all four legs. He made it to her side in three strides.

  "What?" There was scant room for them both to look out and not be observed by anyone in the yard outside. He stared at the busy scene. "What am I looking for?"

  "She's gone…no look there by the dirty carriage. That's Gussie Gravesend; I know she was instrumental in our meeting." As he watched, her hand rubbed her quim over her dress, connecting to their tattoos. It was something she often did when she was aroused, and Nash wished he could take her up on her unconscious offer. "Not only that," Felicity continued, "she's a friend of Judith's, but I can't say I like her. She looks at you as if you're an insect to squash, or an experiment she wishes to try. It makes me shudder. Her husband died not long ago. I wonder what she's doing here? I thought she'd retired to the country for a period of mourning."

  So did Nash. "Watch from here whilst I go and try to find out. I won't be long."

  "Nash?"

  The tone of her voice made him stop mid-step. Not worried exactly, but he couldn't put his finger on what it was. "Yes? I will take care, love."

  Felicity shook her head. "It's not that, but Gussie has just stood in a certain way. And now I know who the intruder at the cottage reminded me of."

  Chapter Nineteen

  Nash made his way along the wall of the stables with care. He didn't want to come face to face with Gussie, anything but. As soon as Felicity had made her statement, the realization of whom their mystery man was had hit him. As they had thought, it wasn't a he but a she, and more than likely Gravesend's widow.

  So what on earth was she doing here, in this small marketing town on the edge of Dartmoor? Nash spotted one of his coachmen and beckoned him over. He worked for Peregrine, so Nash guessed he was used to ferreting information out.

  "Carling, what is Lady Gravesend doing here? She must not know we are around."

  Carling didn't show any surprise to see his present master skulking behind a wall. "Who, Sir?" Nash reckoned he could ask Carling to hide a body and it wouldn’t faze him. Nevertheless, he hoped he'd never have to test that theory out.

  "The woman in that filthy coach. She's the late Lord Gravesend's wife. She mustn't know we're here."

  "As you say, Mr. Cotton. If you would like to get your wife, your heavily pregnant wife," he said in an emphatic tone. "Then go to your coach, which will be drawn up tight to the side door. I will endeavor to find out her destination and why."

  With a brief nod, he slid—there was no other word for it Nash decided—away. Nash chuckled; just who was in charge?

  Peregrine, no one else. We are puppets, to do as he directs. The idea didn't upset him as it had once done. Peregrine was doing a tremendous job of holding the family together as well as working for the good of their country. He deserved praise and backing, not harsh words and opposition. With a chuckle, Nash turned and went back inside the inn. As he approached the parlor door, he heard footsteps and people walking toward him.

  "You have five minutes. I want the parlor, Fitchett. We will tell those people that I, as the wife of a lord, have precedence. I will wait in a bedchamber until then. If they aren't compliant, I will oust them myself."

  Gussie. Nash opened the door, and beckoned as Felicity looked toward him.

  "We need to move—now." The urgent tone must have registered, because she walked straight toward him, snagging up their clock and cape without stopping.

  "Where?"

  "This way." Nash didn't waste time explaining before he pushed her in front of him, and along the corridor away from the stair to where he presumed Gussie was. It was sheer luck the door they needed to use to reach the coach was at the back of the building. As they turned a corner, he heard footsteps behind them once more.

  "Quickly." He urged Felicity on. For a small inn, the passage seemed to stretch forever. Nash had never thought himself fanciful, but the door seemed to recede with every step he took. His stomach churned. Why was the stab of fear, real deep down fear hitting him? Felicity. Because I will guard her with my life. She is my everything; I cannot let any harm befall her. The thought was so simple; Nash wondered why he hadn't had it before. Oh, he knew he loved her, but hadn't really thought about it, not even when they had been threatened before. Now, he wanted to spirit her away, make her his wife, and stand guard over her, sword in hand.

  At any other time, the phrase would have raised a smile. Now he hardly noticed the expression she had used one day before she lavished attention on his cock.

  "Through the doorway on the left, the coach should be tight up to the entrance."

  Felicity nodded and looked outside before she turned to him with a worried frown. "It's not there."

  Nash swore. That part of the yard was empty. He looked around, conscious of voices getting louder. What if Gussie decided not to go into the p
arlor, but walk in their direction?

  The only place to hide was an alcove covered by a tatty piece of woolen cloth... Nash remembered Carling's words. "Behind the curtain, and stuff my cape under your dress. Look as if you're with child, pull your bonnet forward and waddle after me. Quick." He lifted the material and pushed her into the hidden space.

  He could only give thanks to her understanding. Felicity nodded, even as she shoved his cape into a ball and adjusted it under her gown.

  "And?" she asked.

  "I wish I knew." Nash hunched his shoulders, and pulled his hat down. "Leave the building and pray."

  Her smile was like sunlight on a cloudy day. "Will this do?"

  Nash grinned. "Perfect." It was. She looked as if the birth was imminent, and as if to even put one foot in front of another would be an effort.

  I want to see her like this, big with child. My child. The thought stunned him. Nash dragged his thoughts away from a family and happy ever after to the very real worry of escaping without being seen. Next to the curtain was a hook with an old tattered greatcoat on it. Nash lifted it down and pushed his arms into the sleeves. Somewhat large, it altered his whole appearance.

  "Follow me. If anything happens, just keep walking until…"

  "Until?"

  "Until you reach the stables, and find one of our coachmen." If you find them. He was beginning to get worried. Why wasn't the coach where Carling said it would be? Nash lifted the curtain with caution and looked out into the empty passage.

  "Stop fretting. I will be so close to you that if you halt, my bump will bump you. I must say it's strange not to be able to see my feet." Felicity gripped his shoulder and squeezed it gently. "I trust you." The gesture of solidarity pleased him.

  "Then now." He moved and didn't look behind him. It went against the grain not to check that Felicity was on his heels, but first he had to get outside and check all was well. The soft slap of her shoes told him she was with him.