How had she been so naïve? She had been waiting for him to come home to her and he’d been in another woman’s bed! She covered her mouth, willing herself not to be sick.
Had Arthur loved her at all? Her blood turned cold and she exhaled a shaky breath. He’d married her because he hadn’t any choice.
The smallest seed of optimism suggested that the woman had been lying, but just as quickly as it sprouted, Naomi squashed it.
The woman had been telling the truth. She’d known too much.
Naomi had only seen what she wanted to see. She wiped her arm across her eyes and sniffed. She’d cried buckets of tears for him already—rivers—and had given him the benefit of the doubt on so many occasions—too many occasions.
Weary from it all, she attempted to push off the betrayal aside and peered into the small dressing room that adjoined her chamber. Arthur had left a few belongings at home—items that had seemed oddly insignificant at the time. Coats, shirts, a pair of boots, and a folded pair of breeches in the far corner. A well-made but smallish trunk had been pushed snugly against the wall.
As she pushed the boots to the side, she couldn’t help wondering if Arthur had kept similar items in that woman’s room.
She ached from thinking about all of it. She was tired of being sad, and now confused, and angry. It was exhausting.
A nudging kick from inside strengthened her resolve. This tiny human growing inside of her was her purpose now.
Naomi dragged a small stool into the dressing room and sat down in front of the trunk. Luke had assured her she didn’t need to find the paperwork today. He’d suggested she rest, read a book, take a short walk.
Break a few dishes.
He’d stared at her hard and then put water on the stove to make tea for both of them.
No one had ever worried about her the way he did, as though he was more in tune with her feelings than he was with even his own.
Trepidation cautioned her as she stared at Arthur’s trunk. Would she find other secrets he had been hiding? Discover other betrayals? She swallowed hard. If they existed and if there was proof, she’d rather discover them now.
She’d rather learn of them on her own accord. Not by running into yet another woman with horrid accusations.
She’d been living in the dark, but no more.
The chest wasn’t locked and the latch snapped open easily. As a youth, had Arthur packed this same trunk to take with him to school? She pinched her lips together and dismissed the image. Such were thoughts a grieving woman might have for a husband who had loved her.
Had he loved her at all? He could not have!
She reached inside and braced herself.
A bottle, half full of some sort of liquor. She uncorked it. Rum. Nothing surprising in that. She sealed the bottle and set it to the side.
A tin of tooth powder, soap, and a brush. For an instant, it was almost as though he had stepped into the room with her, the scent was so familiar.
Stinging tears threatened the back of her eyes but it was easier to blink them away this time.
After removing a few books, one of which had illustrations that made her raise her brows, she came across a worn leather satchel.
She hadn’t paid close attention to the administrative details of their marriage at the time, but she did remember signing a certificate. And since he hadn’t bothered notifying the War Office, and it hadn’t been with his other belongings, she hoped he’d at least had the courtesy of leaving it here where she could find it.
Opening the satchel, the scent that had grown familiar to her this summer nearly overwhelmed her. She lifted the leather to her nose and sniffed. It didn’t have the same effect it had before. Was she already falling out of love with him?
Was she that fickle? Or was she simply wising up?
She wasn’t fool enough not to admit to herself where he’d been on those nights he’d failed to come home. Not only did the facts make sense, but her brain was able to conjure images of Arthur making love to that other woman.
And it hurt.
It would always hurt—his betrayal.
How had she been so stupid? There had been moments when doubt niggled at her—when she’d been lying in bed alone because he’d not returned for the night and wondered... The first time she’d been terrified for his safety, certain something had happened to him. Why else wouldn’t he come home to his wife at night? In fact, she hadn’t slept at all and by the time he showed his face later the next morning, she’d been so grateful that he was not injured or worse that she’d accepted his explanation without question.
She’d wanted to rage at him, but her upbringing had kept her from doing so. Ladies did not fly into a blue temper at their husbands.
She’d gone on to purposefully ignore the possibility that Arthur would be unfaithful to her. She’d dismissed it outright. While at home, he’d been a perfect husband. Hadn’t he been? He’d never given her any reason to mistrust him.
Had he?
“Are you having any luck?” Luke had silently entered the room and was leaning against the doorframe. “Tea’s ready.”
In answer, Naomi lifted the leather bag.
He nodded. “I won’t impose on your privacy. Ester’s nephew stopped by to pass along that she’s going to remain at her sister’s until Sunday.” And then he ruefully pushed off as though preparing to leave.
“You are never an imposition.” She halted him with her voice. “You’ve been a godsend.” How quiet the house would be after he’d gone—after he’d fulfilled the expectations he’d set for himself as far as she was concerned—and departed for Crescent Park. Even Ester couldn’t afford to remain here if Naomi wasn’t able to pay her.
“I’m not sure God would agree.” With his face partially hidden in shadow, she couldn’t quite make out his expression.
“Do you have to go?” It was a foolish thing to ask. Of course, he was going to have to return home. His sisters and his brother were likely already concerned by his absence.
But he’d misunderstood her question. “You don’t want to be alone overnight?”
She had considered her reluctance to spend the night unaccompanied already and determined she had no choice in the matter. Naomi was a grown woman and as such was quite capable of such. She’d learn to cope without a protector, without a husband.
She stared at the corner where Arthur’s boots had been placed and shivered.
Ghosts of betrayal surrounded her everywhere.
She didn’t want to be alone tonight.
“You… could sleep in the blue room.” She’d prepared it for if, or when, Arthur’s mother or her parents ever deigned to visit them. She’d optimistically considered it a possibility for when the baby came.
She’d hoped. She’d once been confident that she would have a normal relationship with her parents again, and with Arthur’s mother and brother as well.
Was deception normal for Arthur? He’d passionately declared his love for her on numerous occasions. The words had passed his lips easily.
Too easily. And all the while, she’d been living in a state of ignorant bliss. “It’s not as though I have a reputation to uphold.”
Her words sent an unfamiliar wave of emptiness shooting through her. It was as though she was floating around in the night sky with nothing to ground her. Lost and numb, she dropped the satchel and raised her hands to her face.
“Oh, God.”
Luke rushed to her side. “Let it out.” He lifted her as though she weighed nothing and carried her out of this haunted dressing room. Lowering her onto the edge of the bed, he then sat beside her, tucking her into his side.
What was she going to do without him?
“Don’t worry about the damn paperwork today.” He squeezed her closer to him. For the second time that day, she was in this man’s arms. Tremors flowed through her, and she wasn’t sure if it was because of Arthur or because of Luke. “A time will come when you look back on all of this and know your life
is better for it.”
She sniffed and wiped at her eyes. Being pathetic was wearing on her. “And you? Will you do the same after you’ve retired?”
He didn’t answer but rubbed his hand briskly up and down her arm.
And when she closed her eyes, Naomi didn’t imagine herself in Arthur’s arms. He made her well aware of that fact.
Luke’s chest was thicker. His shoulders were wider. And his scent was most definitely his own. It was earthier and contrasted starkly with the fragrance on Arthur’s belongings. Naomi turned and wound her arms around his waist.
“Did you bed her as well?” That woman claimed that Naomi could never have him. She’d stared at him with a… knowing.
The question wasn’t a fair one and yet Naomi couldn’t ignore the parting shot Arthur’s lover had taken.
“Who, the barmaid?”
“Her.” She didn’t want to refer to that woman as Arthur’s mistress out loud. Because it made Naomi feel like less of a woman. It made her feel dirty—tarnished.
“No.”
“You know her, though? What’s her name?” Why would she want to know this? It didn’t make sense, but she did.
She felt Luke’s chest fall as he exhaled loudly. “Bridget.”
Bridget. It didn’t sound like the name of a light skirt. It sounded like the name of a perfectly normal woman. Had Arthur loved Bridget?
“I can’t help thinking I’m to blame for it. That she’s right.” If only she hadn’t given in to Arthur’s… persuasiveness. Oh, but he hadn’t had to do much convincing. She’d been curious. He’d promised they’d be together, and she had wanted him as badly as anything she’d ever wanted up until then.
Had Arthur felt trapped by her? And yet, he hadn’t been the only one trapped. She had been trapped as well.
“No one is at fault but Gil.” Luke drew back just enough to stare at her intently. “You both made the decision—"
“Were there others? Before the attack…?” Either she was pouring salt onto her wounds with this line of questioning or cutting something putrid out of her life.
Again, this wasn’t a fair question to ask him. Luke had been Arthur’s friend, and having a brother herself, Naomi understood how men tended to protect one another. But Luke was here. She was touching him. He was solid and alive, and she begged him with her eyes for the answers she needed.
“I know of none since your marriage.” He palmed the side of her face. “And although his reputation as a rogue before then was not unfounded, you must always remember that he did not marry Bridget or anyone else. He married you.”
“Please don’t defend him.” It was easier if she could hate Arthur now. She’d mourned the loss of his life; now she would mourn the loss of what she’d believed had been love.
She wanted to erase Arthur from her life, but he was the father of her child. How dare he do this to her? How dare he pretend to love her and their child? How dare he pretend their marriage had meant something to him? Her heart broke open and released anything she’d ever felt for that lying, cheating, manipulative rogue.
Had he privately mocked her when he’d stroked his body into hers?
She lifted her face to Luke and tugged him toward her. “Hold me,” she demanded. “Kiss me.” Luke was here. He was a good man. He wouldn’t have hurt her as Arthur had.
Suddenly, she wanted to replace the feel of Arthur’s hands on her body with another’s. She wanted Luke to claim her instead. She wanted him. She needed him.
And Luke was here, holding her. He’d wanted her earlier when he’d stopped the cart and then kissed her. She’d sensed it by the rasping of his breath and the way his hand had settled on the side of her ribcage. The way his thumb had brushed the tender underside of her breast.
His mouth was hesitant beneath hers. “Naomi,” he groaned.
She hauled him closer and was practically climbing him. “Luke,” she gasped into his mouth, her hands seeking hungrily. “Make love to me. Please.” Was she begging? He would fulfill a desperate need that was also fueled by something else. Something almost violent. She clumsily struggled against her gown until her legs were free so she could straddle him. She wouldn’t leave his embrace for anything.
His whiskers grazed against her lips when she frantically tasted his cheek and jaw—his chin. She found his mouth again and scraped her teeth against his. “Luke.”
Silky tufts of hair slid through her fingers as she clutched the sides of his head. And then she felt it—his arousal straining beneath her. Fueled by this primitive emptiness, she bore down against it. She wanted—she needed…
“I need… I need you.”
His arms tensed around her. He wasn’t pushing her away. But in a wave of shame, she comprehended that he wasn’t participating either.
Could she be any more pathetic?
Hating that she could know so much rejection in one day, she released him and jerked to break free.
Only his arms held her tight, not allowing her to escape.
“Let me go! Just go! I don’t need you. I don’t need anyone.” It was too much.
“Naomi.” His hands were in her hair now. And then his lips touched her forehead as he cradled her head beneath his chin. “I want you. So much. But not like this. Not like this, sweet girl.”
“I’m not a sweet girl.” She was anything but.
His fingertips slid around to clasp the sides of her face. Oh, but he was going to force her to meet his eyes. After she’d essentially attacked him in her bedroom. His gaze wasn’t accusing though. It was almost loving.
“You are my sweet girl, and I will make love to you. I promise you that. But not now. Not like this. You’ve been through too much. If I had only myself to consider, believe me, your clothing would be strewn about the floor already. And I’d be learning every inch of you—savoring the taste of you everywhere, your lips, your breasts, between your silky thighs. When that time comes, I’ll know the heaven of being inside of you.”
Naomi swallowed hard. Yes. That was what she wanted. His words made her want him even more. She dared not dwell on them. But… between her silky thighs? Heat flooded to her core. He was right there.
But he wanted to wait. Of course, he would wish to wait. She was nearly seven months into her pregnancy!
What was she thinking?
“I’ve been so stupid.” She’d kept this admission to herself for months now. She’d been utterly stupid for going off with Arthur alone when she’d known she shouldn’t—by allowing him one impropriety after another and then by going against her own inclinations and believing his words of love.
“We all are sometimes.”
“I can’t imagine you doing anything remotely as stupid as I’ve done.”
Chapter Ten
Luke hadn’t realized he possessed such self-restraint. Since entering the military, he’d learned discipline he never could have imagined, but nothing had been as difficult as denying Naomi the physical satisfaction she craved.
Especially with the heat of her center pressing down on him and her mouth giving him all sorts of ideas… Every time she shifted, she created the most delightful friction along his cock.
He cleared his throat. He could do this. “I had just turned ten and three.” He would do the right thing. “I’m not certain most comprehend the dynamic circumstances we second sons are born into. Although our birth is, in fact, celebrated, at the same time, we aren’t really necessary. Being referred to as the spare has a way of making you feel somewhat expendable. And feeling expendable lends one to a certain… recklessness.”
He had her attention now, and she’d even relaxed in his arms.
“A waterfall marks the edge of my father’s land where it borders Gil’s father’s, as a matter of fact. In the springtime, I doubt I’ve ever seen anything more violently magnificent.”
“How high is it?”
“At least fifty feet.” For the sake of a good story, he’d exaggerate. Perhaps it wasn’t much higher than twent
y. He bit back a smile at the suspicious narrowing of her eyes. “All right, forty-nine and a half. But not a foot less.”
“If you weren’t sitting here with me looking whole and healthy right now, I think I might be frightened of where this story is heading.”
“And you would be right to do so. But you are interrupting my story, Miss Augustine.” The shadow of a grin touched her lips that he would call her by her maiden name. “No more questions.”
“Very well.”
“Blackheart and I, Gil and Tempest as well, we swam there often.” Before any of them comprehended the worries that came with entering adulthood.
“I’m a horrid swimmer.” Her simple admission cut into his memories, replacing them with a sudden desire to teach her, to spend lazy summer afternoons with her, picnicking on a beach somewhere—perhaps in Brighton.
“I’ll teach you someday.”
“I’d like that.”
From the moment he’d met her, he’d been delighted with her perfect manners and countenance. But he’d also seen something different in her. When he’d rowed her across that pond, she’d removed one of her gloves dragging her hand along the surface. When he’d joked that wasn’t diving in after her bonnet, she’d splashed him.
He’d feigned shock at her audacity, and she’d met his gaze that dared him to see beyond her dress and manners. That had been the moment he’d known.
Damn Gil to hell.
“What did you do that was so horribly stupid? Did you swim beneath the falls?”
He shook his head. “I rowed a boat over them.”
He was rather pleased to see that he’d either impressed her with his bravery or stunned her with his stupidity. He imagined a little of both.
“Were you injured?”
“Not initially. Surprisingly enough, I landed upright after the initial drop. What I failed to account for was the amount of water that would fill my small craft. So much damn water. I was carried away for what felt like miles. When Blackheart couldn’t find me, he returned home and reported my death to our parents. You can imagine the trouble I was in when I crept up on the men searching for my body at the base of the falls.”
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