by Lauren Smith
The ruddy-cheeked gentleman grinned and clapped his hands together. “By God, it’s good to see you, Hastings. The wife’s been worried sick you wouldn’t show tonight. I told her you would. I said, ‘Mary, the boy will come. He has never turned us down yet for an invitation.’ And look, here you are!” Sir Giles clapped a hand on Nathan’s shoulder, seeming not to notice that Nathan’s eyes had never left Thea’s face.
“Yes, it was a bit snowy to travel in, Sir Giles, but I am glad to be here tonight, more than I can say.” Nathan’s voice was far deeper than it had been eight years ago, such was the vast difference between a young man of twenty and a man of twenty-eight. He had grown even taller, his shoulders broader. His body warned of brute strength, despite the gentleness in his eyes as he looked at her.
“And I see you’ve found Miss Swann. Very good, very good. You’re in time for the next dance, you two.” Sir Giles reached for Thea’s hand and placed it in Nathan’s before he shooed them toward the dance floor.
They moved almost as though in a dream toward the floor where the other couples were lining up. The orchestra began to play a waltz, and Nathan pulled her into his arms. She tilted her face up to stare at him, half in wonder and half in fear. Eight years’ worth of tears and words unspoken held her silent as they began to dance. She had thought him a marvelous dancer all those years ago when they’d practiced beneath the cherry blossoms, but now . . . now she saw that they’d both been clumsy children then. This was a true dance, their bodies moving perfectly in time as though for the last eight years they had danced together every day.
He held her without words, his eyes conveying a rush of emotions that matched the rippling waves of her own changing feelings as she tried to survive being in his arms again. It was as though this moment had been designed by the Fates to kill her with joy and sorrow at the same time. She knew her parents would see her, along with her sisters and dozens of other guests. Would they see her heart breaking all over again as it had that day?
“I’d forgotten how well you dance,” Nathan said quietly.
Lord, how she’d missed his voice. It was a funny thing to lose both the love of one’s life and one’s dearest friend. For that was what they’d been, so much more than simply a pair of children in love. Their souls had recognized each other for mates that long-ago day by the river, and that bond had only ever strengthened. Even now it bound her to him, drowning as they both were in misery and pleasure.
“You . . .” She wasn’t sure what she wanted to say, or what she could say without crying.
“Is . . . is your husband here?” he asked.
Husband? Yes, the thing she’d vowed to find yet hadn’t been able to bring herself to. She’d broken her promise to him.
“No,” she said quietly. She had no husband, so it wasn’t a falsehood.
“Oh . . .” He spun her delicately, and they whirled around until the gilded light above them seem to fill every corner of the ballroom, erasing all shadows.
As the dance ended, they were greeted by numerous guests, all vying for Nathan’s attention. He tried to keep hold of her hand, but she was too clever as she let the other guests step between them. Her fingers slipped from his grasp, and she was able to escape before anything else need be said.
“Thea?” Lewis called out as she rushed past him, but she didn’t stop. She’d promised one dance with Nathan, and now she could be free—free to pick up the pieces of her heart all over again.
Frantic now for a quiet darkness to lose herself in, she slipped past the guests and made a hasty exit toward the doors on one side of the ballroom. Her slippered feet flew across the floor, in the direction of the door leading to Sir Giles’s gardens, her sanctuary.
She pressed her palms on the wood door and pushed. A shocking, cold gust of wind cut across her collarbones and the tops of her breasts. Beyond was a terrace overlooking the now dormant gardens. The cold air cleared her head, and she felt better immediately. The stillness, the snowy quiet of the dark world around her, created a sense of peace and eased her anxious heart. She was safe. She was alone. No one would hear her cry.
A shaky breath escaped her as she felt the sobs rising up within her.
“Thea.” A deep baritone voice rippled over her skin. Her spine stiffened, and she slowly pivoted.
Nathan.
She peeped up at him through her lashes and hastily dropped her gaze to the snow-covered stones.
He cleared his throat as though uncertain where to begin.
“I didn’t have a chance to speak with you after the dance.”
She stared at him, wordless.
“It is good to see you again. You look well.” The hint of uncertainty in his voice was odd.
He’d always been so self-assured, so confident. Even in that moment when he’d broken them apart, he’d been set in his path. This new side to him confused her. She raised her eyes again. He was different, yet the same. He was still the man she’d loved with wild abandon, but age had wrought tiny lines at the corners of his eyes, and melancholy had thinned his once bewitching smile.
“Thank you. You look well too.” A shiver racked her body, and she wrapped her arms around her waist.
He shrugged out of his coat. She retreated a step when he advanced on her, his coat extended.
His lips pursed, and his eyes narrowed. “Don’t be silly, Thea. Let me . . .” He cornered her against the stone rail of the terrace. She jumped when wet snow pressed into her lower back, soaking through her dress. Nathan seized on her distraction and wrapped his coat around her shoulders. He surrounded her. She didn’t dare move lest he vanish as he always had in her dreams.
The smell of him, the woodsy scent with a hint of leather and horses, made her suddenly long for the past, before they’d been separated. Too wrapped in the delicious bittersweet memories of other days when he’d held her close, she didn’t fight when he pushed her arms into the sleeves and pulled his coat closed to keep her warm.
It was wonderful to have the black coat around her, the warm fabric far more suitable to guard against the chill than the thin silk of her gown. But it was more than that. The coat was a shield against the present, letting her relive the past. She closed her eyes, absorbing the heat, his scent, the rush of longing. It stung, but the pain of her ache for him was beautiful. Beautiful in its tragedy.
“Thea . . .” Nathan’s hands settled on her shoulders, his firm grip demanding she open her eyes. He was so close, and something tugged deep in her abdomen, beseeching her to move nearer.
“Yes?”
“I . . .” He seemed to be at a loss for words. His eyes strayed away from her face and then darted back. “You are more beautiful than the last time I saw you.”
He’d once thought she was beautiful, but he’d loved her for more than that. Was he being kind so as to not make a scene? If so, then why had he followed her out here? Frustration and desperation warred inside her. She couldn’t succumb to his charms, not again, not if she wanted to stay sane. She couldn’t allow him back into her life, not a moment longer.
She managed a watery smile. “Don’t, Nathan! You don’t have to say anything. We’re past that. It’s been eight years. I don’t need pretty words or eloquent speeches. We’ve seen each other. We’ve been cordial. We don’t have to do anything else. You ought to go back inside. I’m sure there’s more than one lady eager to dance with the Duke of Hastings.”
Nathan’s fingers dug into her shoulders, and he glared down at her with a violent emotion she couldn’t read. He pressed close enough that the heat of him made her dizzy. She was on the verge of wilting in his arms.
He blinked, seemed to regain his composure, and stepped back. “So that is what you think of me.” The incredulity and resignation on his face sent her heart skittering wildly. “You think I could ever love another woman the way I love you?”
Surely he didn’t . . . he couldn’t . . .
But he’d said love, not loved. Thea opened her mouth but didn’t know what
to say. She was too scared to hope, to pray that it wasn’t too late.
She gasped—as much with a thrill as with surprise—when he impulsively wound his arms around her waist and hauled her against his body. Anyone could come upon them, yet he was acting rashly, something she knew he rarely did except when his heart was in control of his mind. Her heart slammed in her chest, anticipation heating her cheeks as he dipped his head and captured her mouth.
6
The kiss was everything she feared and loved. It was raw, punishing, glorious. He made up for all the days they’d been apart, all the nights she’d hungered, alone and cold without his body against hers. He slid one hand into her hair at the base of her neck and fisted his fingers in the loose ringlets, tugging at the curls. The small bite of pain spurred a flash of wet heat between her legs. She moaned against his marauding lips. As if encouraged by her wanton reaction, he slanted his mouth harder over hers. It overwhelmed her, aroused her, clouded her senses with him and only him.
The kiss was deep, their tongues dueling and lips bruising. His other hand traced her spine and skipped down to shape the curve of her rear. He clenched her bottom hard and jerked her body up several inches, setting her on the terrace balustrade.
Nathan’s hands dug at her skirts, working them up her legs and out of the way so he could slide his hips between her thighs. Mindless of the cold that should have bothered her from such exposure, she arched into him, her body in control, her mind surrendering. He rocked his hips against hers, promising the passion to come with low growls against her lips as they finally broke apart from their kiss.
He stared down at her, still holding her prisoner against the terrace railing. Their shared breath formed pale clouds around their flushed faces. Nathan’s lips were parted, the faint rasp of his panting sending new flashes of heat and awareness skating over her skin. Even eight years ago, they hadn’t kissed like that. So much had changed, and so much lay between them. Pain, sorrow, loneliness, regret. Her barely healed heart started to crack and splinter into diamond shards, yet she wouldn’t have taken that kiss back. They’d spoken with their lips, needing no words.
How did they go on from here? How did they go back to their separate lives? She was terrified of what the answer might be. She knew she wouldn’t survive if he walked away a second time. There was nothing so cruel in this world than to have her heart’s unattainable desire so close and for it to be denied a second time.
Destiny could not be so cold.
Nathan cupped her face in his hands and feathered his lips over hers before touching his nose to hers in a gentle nuzzle.
“God, I’ve been such a fool, Thea.” His voice was low and pained, tinged with husky frustration.
Her throat closed, and her breath froze in her chest. Her fingers clenched and unclenched in the folds of his snowy cravat as she struggled to understand what he meant. Did he regret their kiss?
She choked back a sob. “Nathan, please. If you mean to leave, for heaven’s sake, go now,” she begged in a harsh whisper.
Her throat was raw with the violent heartbreak shaking her entire body. He was going to walk away, as he had before. She’d be alone again, save for a silvery-tinted memory of one last great kiss. A kiss she had no right to even remember with fondness. To love without expectation of such love being returned was a curse upon her soul. A tormenting flicker of impossible hope still clung to her, demanding she live these last few minutes with him as though she’d never lost him, never been wounded beyond repair.
If this was the last moment she had with him, she wanted to remember everything. His crisp shirt beneath her fingertips, the fire that ignited his eyes when she licked her lips.
“Leave?”
The shock in his hazel eyes made her knees buckle. She clung to his arms as she fell into him. Her head spun in dizzying circles.
“Yes, now that you’ve realized this was a mistake.”
“No!” he snapped, his voice hard and cold. “I’ve never stopped loving you. I know you . . . have moved on, but . . . Christ. I won’t touch you again. I know I shouldn’t have. No, it is you who must leave me tonight. Or else I will find myself betraying the laws of God and man to claim you.”
He still believed her married. She had to tell him the truth.
“Nathan . . .” Her whisper was barely audible. Her vision threatened to black out, but Nathan set his mouth to hers, silencing her. His kiss was hard at first, then his lips softened, coaxing her to respond.
“I was a fool to listen to my father when my heart told me you were mine. I only pray you have the mercy to forgive me.”
Thea slid her hands up his shoulders and locked her fingers around his neck as she found the words she’d practiced a thousand times in a thousand unfulfilled dreams.
“When you love someone, forgiveness is unnecessary.” As much as she had died that day he’d walked away, she had never needed to forgive him. He’d done what he’d done to protect her family, to protect her. How could she hate him for so noble, so loving an act?
His hands on her face tightened ever so slightly. “You still love me, my darling? Tell me now if you don’t. Break my heart clean and swift.”
The earnestness reflected in his eyes filled her with a strange elation, and warmth blossomed in her chest.
“I never stopped loving you. Even when I knew you’d never be mine, my broken heart still carried your name.” She met his eyes, telling him the truth that she’d kept secret from the world for so long. “I was always yours.” Even though it had felt like her ribs had been broken and each ragged breath cost her all of her soul, she’d kept breathing. Kept loving him.
“But you must listen to me, Nathan. I must tell you—”
“I know . . . tonight is all we have. I understand. I adore you for giving me just one last chance to hold you, my love.” He nuzzled her throat, and her knees weakened.
“Nathan!” She shoved at his chest to get his attention. When he looked up at her, she held his gaze. “I broke the promise I made to you.”
“You didn’t,” he rushed to reassure her. “I wanted you to find and fall in love with another. I am not angry that you did. That was my wish.”
“Foolish man!” she muttered. “I didn’t fall in love. I didn’t marry. That is the promise I broke to you.” She held her breath, watching his eyes go wide.
“You . . . you are free?”
She nodded slowly. “Free to love you, if you’ll let me.” She wasn’t sure if he still could or if tonight was simply about closure from the past. Could he still want her, even as old as she was?
“My God,” he murmured. “My God . . .” He cupped her face, gently brushing his thumbs over her cheeks. “I’m not too late?”
“I am twenty-six, Nathan. I am no blushing young bride.” She didn’t want to tell him about the years she’d spent being mocked by younger ladies at balls, or the pitying looks from gentlemen as they passed her by when seeking a dance partner.
“I am twenty-eight, my love. We are both still young. How could you think I would want anyone else?”
“But what if . . .”
“Hush.” He silenced her with a soft kiss that felt like snowflakes falling upon her lips. She surrendered to him.
Nathan pulled Thea back into his arms, tucking her head beneath his chin, his arms securing her in his embrace. He wasn’t sure how long he held her, but he was too terrified to let go of her, lest she vanish like a phantom on the moors in winter. He’d been gifted with a second chance, and he wasn’t going to make the same mistake.
She hadn’t married. She was still his, truly his. How could it be true?
“Thea, I know I have changed, but I am still the boy you loved. Will you give me a second chance?”
Before she could answer, a flutter of wings and a soft cooing made him raise his head. Thea turned to look at the rail next to them. A pair of turtledoves perched next to each other. Their heads bobbed back and forth, their soulful black eyes watching Nathan and Thea
. The two birds were a perfect match for each other. One dove bent and rubbed its cheek against the chest of its mate. The second dove raised a wing and settled it over his mate protectively against the chill of the night air.
“They’re so lovely,” Thea whispered. Her cheek rested against his chest. “A perfect Christmas present.”
Nathan hugged her close and whispered into her ear, “Lucky for me they flew here of their own accord. I doubt I could have gotten them into a box for you.”
Thea laughed. The weight on her shoulders eased and slowly disappeared.
“Say you will marry me, Thea, as soon as we can arrange it.”
She nodded and smiled, her heart shining in her eyes. When she pressed her cheek to his and then nibbled a path to his ear, his body screamed out to finish what they’d started.
“I don’t have a gift for you, Your Grace.”
“This is my Christmas gift. Getting you back.” He stole a kiss and would have made good use of the balustrade if a harried female voice hadn’t cut through the air at just that moment.
“Theodosia Swann! What in heaven’s name are you doing?” Thea’s mother shrieked. Mrs. Swann and one of Mrs. Swann’s friends, Lady Barrington, were watching them from the doorway. Lady Barrington let out a little giggle and covered her mouth with her hand.
“Mama!” Thea gasped, her delicate features morphing into a mask of horrified embarrassment. She clung to Nathan and buried her face against his chest as though to banish her mother and Lady Barrington and simply not see them.
Nathan cleared his throat and patted Thea’s back in a show of silent support.
“Good evening, Mrs. Swann, Lady Barrington.” He gave the two women one of his more charming smiles. It must have been ineffective after not being used for years, as Mrs. Swann didn’t melt the way he’d expected her to after finding her daughter in the arms of a duke.
“Good evening, Your Grace.” She arched one brow, her slightly plump arms crossed. “I trust you will be speaking to my husband later tonight about Thea’s hand?”
