Vengeance 02 - Trust In Me

by Lana Williams

  ’Twas the strangest thing.

  He stole a few moments each dawn to watch her slumber, but left before she woke. To be so close yet unable to touch her – those moments were painful indeed.

  “Thank you for the thread and other supplies in the weaving solar.” Elizabeth’s attention remained on the spindle and thread she worked.

  “’Tis your money that bought them.” Nicholas thought it only fair that he spend some of her dowry on her. Never mind the pleasure it had given him. He glanced over at her to find an odd expression on her face.

  She looked almost disappointed at his response, but said nothing more, leaving him to wonder what she wished his answer would be.

  When he’d first entered William’s chamber, he’d been glad she had something to occupy her attention, but her steady movements continually caught his gaze. And kept it. Long, graceful fingers nimbly worked the thread, filling the bobbing spindle in a rhythm that fascinated him.

  Damn her and those hands! How was a man supposed to think of anything except those fingers weaving their magic on him? He shifted to ease his suddenly uncomfortable position in the chair and dragged his gaze once again back to William.

  His nerves stretched taut as the silence grew long. It took all his will not to stand up and drag Elizabeth into his arms, to kiss her and touch her as he had in the cottage. He glared at William, longing to yell at him to do something, anything to break this unbearable tension.

  Was it a trick of the light or merely Nicholas’s wish that made William look different? The blue-gray pallor his skin had held since his arrival seemed to have eased. Nicholas had been staring so hard at him that he thought perhaps he imagined it. He refused to ask his annoyingly polite wife if she thought the same.

  As he watched, William’s lashes fluttered.

  Nicholas’s breath caught. Had he seen what he thought he had? He stared intently, his breath suspended.

  There! Surely his brow had wrinkled for a moment. Nicholas’s heart stuttered in disbelief.

  “Did you see that?” Elizabeth asked, her voice quavering with the same desperate hope he felt. “He moved his finger.”

  “Tr – ” He cleared the emotion from his throat so he could speak. “Truly?”

  Elizabeth stood behind him, clutching his shoulder as she leaned forward to stare at William.

  Nicholas wasn’t sure where to watch for more movement. His gaze bounced between William’s face and his hands.

  “Say his name,” she commanded.

  “What?”

  “Say it. The familiar sound of your voice might help rouse him.” Elizabeth’s tone brooked no argument.

  “William? Can you hear me?”

  No response.

  Elizabeth prodded him in the back, and he took it as a signal to move forward.

  He rose to sit on the side of the bed and reached for his brother’s hand. “Wake up, Will.”

  This time, William’s mouth twitched.

  “Oh!” Elizabeth gasped in delight. “He moved again!” She poked Nicholas as though to make certain he was truly watching. “Come back to us, William.”

  “Open your eyes, brother,” Nicholas demanded. He fisted his free hand to prevent himself from grabbing William and shaking him. Instead he rubbed William’s arm with a trembling hand. “You’ve slept long enough.”

  Nicholas’s efforts were rewarded. A soft moan, a lift of his fingers, a quirk of his brow, followed by a shift of his head. Then, to Nicholas’s delight, William’s eyes opened.

  Wild joy swept through Nicholas. “William!”

  His brother’s brown eyes narrowed, his unfocused gaze shifting around the chamber before landing on Nicholas.

  “Good God, Will,” Nicholas exclaimed as his heart hammered madly. “’Tis past time you rejoined the living.”

  William offered him a small smile before his eyes drifted closed.

  “William!” Panic struck Nicholas as he grabbed his brother’s hand.

  “Christ, Nicholas. Give me a moment.” William’s gravelly tone eased Nicholas’s fear.

  Elizabeth touched his shoulder, reminding him of her presence. She bent down and whispered to him. At first, the words made no sense over the rush of warmth created by her breath in his ear. His mind absorbed her meaning at last. “Keep speaking to him.”

  “Open your eyes again, William,” he commanded.

  William’s eyes opened, then closed. He licked his lips.

  Before Nicholas comprehended the meaning behind his brother’s action, Elizabeth was beside William with a cup.

  “Here’s some water,” she said to him, as she held it to his lips.

  William lifted his head unsteadily and sipped. “Thank you,” he murmured. His gaze rested briefly on her, his expression puzzled, before looking back to Nicholas. “What happened?”

  “You were struck down during a joust. You took a blow to the head and you have a deep gash on your shoulder.” He looked at Elizabeth for a moment, wondering what more he should explain. But her joy was palpable, her face radiant as she gazed at William. Now was not the time to deal with the details of what had occurred or her involvement in them. He shifted his attention back to his brother. “We’re not sure how it came to pass.”

  William’s only response was to frown. His eyes drifted closed again. “So tired,” he murmured.

  “Nay! William, please!” Nicholas couldn’t bear to lose him to unconsciousness again so soon after he’d awakened.

  With effort, William opened his eyes. His gaze caught once again on Elizabeth. “Why are you here?”

  Elizabeth froze, her face suddenly pale.

  Nicholas cursed his own stupidity. He should’ve guessed that Elizabeth’s presence might upset his brother. He hated to think how William would react when Nicholas told him of their marriage. What had he done by binding himself to his brother’s enemy?

  Before Nicholas could try to explain, William’s eyes drifted closed again. “Need to rest,” he muttered and turned his head to a more comfortable position on his pillow. Within moments, his soft breathing told of a deep sleep. The steady rhythm – not quite a snore – was music to Nicholas’s ears.

  Elizabeth drew a deep breath, her expression brittle, her joy of a moment past snuffed out by William’s words. She looked everywhere around the chamber except at Nicholas. “I’ll send one of the servants to fetch Mildred. She’ll want to see him.” Before he could utter a word, she left.

  Nicholas turned back to his brother, his happiness at William’s recovery dimmed. Why hadn’t he anticipated this? The obvious pain in Elizabeth’s expression burned in his mind.

  With a shake of his head, he told himself the important thing was that William had awoken. Certainly, he had a long road ahead of him. He’d need rest before easing back into life.

  He’d warn Elizabeth to stay away from William until he’d had a chance to explain the situation to his brother. He only hoped he could make William understand why his former captor was now Nicholas’s wife.

  *

  Elizabeth eased the door of their chamber shut behind her, certain that if she slammed it, she’d shatter into a thousand pieces.

  Somehow, she’d managed to find a servant to fetch Mildred and made it back to their chamber without breaking. She leaned against the heavy portal and drew a deep breath, but couldn’t get the air past the tight band across her chest.

  William’s question echoed in her mind, a spear of pain accompanying each reverberation. Having Nicholas angry with her had been one thing, but the possibility of William despising her seemed much worse. In her heart, she’d believed Nicholas to be wrong about most of the things of which he’d accused her.

  Now, doubt hung over her.

  If William felt the same way Nicholas did, that seemed to mean Nicholas had been right all along to be so angry with her. Though she’d known it unlikely that William would remember anything about her explanation of where she would take him and why, she’d never dreamed he’d hate her for
it.

  Surely that had been hate she’d heard in his tone.

  She hadn’t thought of how she’d feel if William loathed her for what she’d done. Regardless of the deeds of her father, only she was to blame for hauling William in the cart. She had to believe that journey had worsened his condition considerably. When she’d arrived at Staverton, she shouldn’t have abandoned him at the gate. She should’ve announced herself and begged Nicholas for mercy and offered to tend William.

  But nay. She’d made things worse. Both men thought her a villain with no honor. There was simply no way to fix this. No way to make amends for what she’d done. William and Nicholas detested her for her actions. She’d gained nothing and lost everything.

  Her breath came in short pants. Her heart raced. Panic welled up inside her. William was right. She shouldn’t be here. She had to leave.

  Now.

  At once. The idea of facing either brother again was unbearable.

  She ran to her chest at the foot of the bed. Frantic, she dug through the clothing and linens until she found what she sought – the leather bag she’d brought with her the day she’d left Amberley.

  Had that been only a fortnight ago?

  She yanked it out and stuffed it with the first kirtle she touched, then another, and another. Gowns and undertunics littered the floor as she worked, her movements frenzied. She needed to leave a message for Nicholas, perhaps she could entrust Mary with it. She’d tell him... Her movements paused.

  What? She’d tell him what?

  That once again, she’d fled? That she couldn’t face the consequences of her actions, and she had to go? Her hands faltered as her mind stumbled over the reality of her leaving. She sat back on her heels, the band across her chest so much tighter than the simple gold band that adorned her left hand.

  Nay. She couldn’t break the vows she’d spoken. She couldn’t leave.

  She had to face both Nicholas and William with her head held high. Though they might not believe her, she knew that she’d meant no harm. She’d only tried to do what she thought best for everyone involved. And her father still needed her protection.

  Her heart heavy, she lifted the bulging bag and set it back inside the chest, then shoved the clothing strewn about the floor in as well and closed the lid.

  She covered her face with her hands. What a fine mess she’d made of things. Nothing was to be done but live with it. To move forward with this life as best she could. To ignore her own hurt and focus on making up for the pain she’d caused Nicholas and William.

  She heard a sound at the door and rose slowly, certain it would be Nicholas. She glanced around the chamber to make sure the evidence of her aborted departure was hidden from view. Hopefully, he came with further information on William’s recovery.

  Or perhaps he’d come to ask her to leave after all.

  The door opened, revealing the tall form of her husband. She tried to read his expression but couldn’t tell what thoughts his mind held.

  “William?” she asked.

  “He’s sleeping. I think he’s sleeping.” He frowned as though not quite convinced that was true.

  “He’ll continue to need lots of rest.” She held herself still, trying not to wring her hands or reveal the depth of her distress in any way, holding desperately on to her mask of polite concern. “Did Mildred arrive yet?”

  Nicholas nodded. “She didn’t say much other than to tell him it was about time he woke. Mary is sitting with him now.”

  Elizabeth attempted a smile, but couldn’t manage to make it convincing. Her heart hurt too much.

  Nicholas’s expression was somber, his blue eyes intent on her. What could he be thinking?

  Finally, he cleared his throat and moved to where she stood. “Elizabeth, I think you should stay away from William, at least until I have a chance to explain...things to him.”

  Heat flooded her cheeks as an even stronger wave of hurt rolled through her. Words escaped her, so she simply nodded, clenching her jaw to keep her emotions in check.

  “He seemed distraught at your presence.”

  Those blue eyes held hers, refusing to let go, and she barely managed to hold on to her composure. “I’m so pleased he’s recovering,” she said at last. “Nothing else matters.”

  He continued to stare at her, his brow creased, as though she were an oddity he couldn’t understand.

  Much to her dismay, tears filled her eyes. She wiped them away, willing herself to calm down, to stay strong in front of him. “If you could please give me a few moments alone – ”

  “Nay.” He stepped closer and took her hands in his. “I know this must be difficult for you.”

  She looked up in surprise, her tears making it hard to see him clearly.

  He cupped her cheek with a gentle hand. The offer of comfort was much more than she’d expected from him. Helplessly, she leaned into it, craving his touch.

  “Elizabeth...” He wiped away a tear with his thumb. “I’m sure he’ll understand once I explain.”

  With a sniff, she pulled away from the warmth of his hand. “The way you understand?”

  He had the grace to look remorseful.

  Anger filled her, a welcome change from the hurt. “Perhaps it would be best if you go. You’ve made it quite clear that you don’t care for me. Please don’t pretend otherwise. I’ll stay away from William as you requested.”

  He did not move, only continued to stare at her with an expression she couldn’t interpret. “Elizabeth, there are many things you don’t understand. About me. I am not who you think I am.”

  “Another secret identity?” She couldn’t help the bitterness of her tone. “In addition to Lord Trisbane?”

  A long moment passed before he answered, “What if that was true?”

  She scoffed. “Apparently you have everyone here fooled. They all think you’re Lord de Bremont.”

  He rubbed his brow, and she wondered if another headache plagued him. “That’s not what I meant.”

  “Then please explain.” Puzzled by his strange comments, she hardly knew what to say, couldn’t begin to guess at what he was attempting to tell her.

  He walked to the window and stared out. “I am...different from others. I...” Again, he rubbed his head and sagged against the wall with a grimace.

  Now he was frightening her. She drew nearer, scrutinizing his face, unable to guess at what could be wrong. “Are you ill? Do you have another headache?”

  He drew in a sharp breath, and she had her answer.

  “Sit,” she directed as she pushed him onto the bench beside the window.

  To her surprise, he sat down heavily, his elbows on his knees, his head in his hands. She tentatively touched the back of his neck, but he did not seem to have a fever as far as she could tell. “Should I fetch Mildred?”

  “Nay,” he said, his voice barely audible. “A moment, if you please. It will pass.”

  Unease filled her. She couldn’t help but wonder if something terrible ailed him. Was that what he was trying to tell her? “What is it, Nicholas?”

  He only shook his head.

  Unsure what to do, yet unable to do nothing, she ran a hand across his broad shoulders. The thick, corded muscle tensed beneath her fingers then slowly eased as she rubbed. He drew a deep breath, which she took as a sign that her touch helped. Perhaps she was lessening his pain. She stepped closer and, with slow, methodic movements, stroked the back of his neck and his temples.

  His sigh sent warmth spearing through her, curling low in her belly. She ran her fingers through his thick, black hair, massaging his scalp as well. He moaned and helpless to resist, she stepped between his open knees. Somehow she felt free to touch him since he wasn’t looking at her, and her massage became a caress.

  He leaned his forehead against her stomach, and her breath caught as heat gathered where they touched. He wrapped his arm about her waist and longing filled her. Though she feared she’d regret it, she bent to kiss his head, her lips lingering ag
ainst the softness of his hair.

  In one smooth movement, he rose to stand before her, his arms holding her tight. His heated gaze locked on hers, and she held her breath. Would he push her away again? Tell her this was a mistake?

  Instead, his gaze dropped to her lips. “What sort of spell have you cast over me?” he whispered.

  She opened her mouth to deny any such thing, but before even one word escaped, he captured her lips with his own. He crushed her to him, and she reveled in the feeling of being wanted, of being needed. Desire weighting her limbs, she twined her arms across the broad expanse of his shoulders.

  His lips continued their assault, his tongue dueling with hers. He slid his hands into her hair, touching her neck, before moving down her back to settle on her hips. He fit her tightly to his hard form, and she ached with the pleasure of it.

  Wave after wave of longing pulsed through her. Did it come from within her or emanate from him? Both, she was certain.

  His hands roamed yet again, up and down her body, weaving magic as they went. He was the one who had cast a spell over her. She mimicked his movements, hoping her touch might bring him as much pleasure as his did to her.

  His kisses moved down to her jaw line, to her neck, then to her ear. Shivers coursed through her, making breathing all the more difficult. Anxious to please him, she moved her lips to follow the same path on him.

  His groan was all the encouragement she needed. He tipped his head to allow her access to his neck, but seemed to think better of it and captured her lips instead. The urgency of his touch increased, his hands holding her ribs on the underside of her breasts. His hardness pressed into her softness, and she released a sigh of pleasure.

  He moved his hand, this time taking full possession of her breast. He squeezed its fullness, and she arched back to further enjoy his touch. When he released it, she moaned in protest.

  Afraid he meant to stop, she opened her eyes to look at him.

  And saw she need not be concerned.

  Desire, strong and sure, showed plainly on his face. She cupped her hand to his cheek, unable to voice what she wanted so badly, frightened that he’d turn away from her once again.