He chuckled at the memory. What’s everyone looking for? He’d asked them.
Her eyes were wide now. “That’s horrible! Your poor mother!”
“My poor backside.” He grinned. “One would have thought I was too old for my father to take the strap to me but on that fateful day, such was not the case. And I may have suffered extra lashes for finding the entire incident hilarious.”
She slapped a hand against his chest. “I should say so.”
The fact that his own stupidity gave her cause to smile made it all worthwhile. “We all do foolish things from time to time.”
“You were a boy.”
He lifted one brow as though to contradict that and then pressed his forehead against hers. “Don’t tell my former self that. In my eyes, I was quite grown up and much smarter than any of the adults in my life.”
He studied her eyes as she gazed into his. The two of them were so close that he could see every stormy shade in her blue-grey depths.
“Were you close to your parents?”
She drew back and he almost wished he hadn’t asked. But he was curious as to the extent of the rift. He was going to have to leave soon and he couldn’t leave her here without plans in place to provide for her protection.
How would Luke feel if Blackheart to disowned him? He couldn’t imagine being forbidden to see his sisters when he wanted. Naomi had paid a high price for her indiscretions with Gil.
“Closer to my mother.” She relaxed into him with a warm sigh. “My father is strict but I’ve always loved him. Before last spring, I’d never disobeyed him in anything… not really. It seemed as though his demand that I keep away from Arthur made me want him all the more.”
“As I recall, you have one sister and one brother.”
“Theodosia is younger than me and Walter is older. I worry about Theodosia. Before running away with Arthur, I was… my parents’ favorite. All I ever wanted was for them to recognize the potential of their second daughter. She is witty and thoughtful and delightfully pretty in her own way. If nothing else, I console myself with the hope that they are at least finally showering her with some well-deserved attention.” She exhaled a sigh. “I do miss her.”
“Was your brother sympathetic?”
“Walter might have been, at one time. As my father’s heir, he tends to side with him on most matters now.” She fell into a melancholy silence.
“They’ll want to know their grandchild,” Luke assured her. And for the first time, he set his palm on her belly. Rather than push his hand away, she covered it with hers.
She would always have this part of Gil. A child.
A nudging sensation beneath the softly rounded mound had him meeting her gaze in surprise.
“That’s her?” Rationally, he’d understood she carried a life inside of her but until that moment, it had been an abstract concept. Another nudge pushed against him with even greater strength and he couldn’t help but laugh out loud. “She’s feisty, like her mother.”
“She could very well be a he,” Naomi reminded him.
“Does she do that often?” If this woman were to carry his child, he doubted he could ever leave her side. Gil had squandered this gift.
“He does, usually when I’m about to drift off to sleep,” she answered with a soft giggle that warmed him inside. “And I think he’s getting crowded. Is it just me or have I become even more of an elephant since you’ve arrived?”
Luke flattened his palm, amazed at the firmness. “If by elephant, you mean more beautiful, then I’ll agree to that.”
She rolled her eyes, reminding him of the lighthearted young lady he’d met last spring. But then she grew solemn again. “You don’t have to stay here tonight. If anyone were to find out—"
“I’m staying.”
“I know it’s not proper really—”
“Would you prefer to do the cooking, or should I?” He firmly cut off any more protests she might come up with. He’d hated leaving her unprotected before, and that was when she had Ester with her. She was a woman alone. The folks in this area seemed decent enough. As was usually the case.
That was, until it wasn’t.
“Why don’t we cook something together?”
Luke couldn’t help but think that sounded like a damn good idea.
He would wait for her. He would give her the comfort she needed but also the time society demanded. And then they’d make something together.
Chapter Eleven
Naomi read over the words she’d written on the familiar pages of her journal and then closed the book so she could prepare for bed. She’d written that woman’s name beside Arthur’s.
Bridget.
There would come a time when it would cease to have the ability to hurt her. Luke’s companionship was already dulling the stabbing sensation of betrayal.
It weighed as a great disappointment.
She had taken vows with Arthur. She’d given him her promise--to love him, to keep him, to honor him—and even though he hadn’t followed through with his, she’d had every intention of honoring hers.
And she would love their child—her child, regardless of what he’d done.
She drew her night rail out of the wardrobe and groaned. Some of her troubles would not be resolved for possibly years to come, but for now, she faced a far more pressing one. That of undressing herself.
If either of she or Ester had taken a moment to consider such a mundane matter, Naomi could have worn a gown that fastened up the front.
But in Ester’s concern for her niece, and Naomi’s reassurance that she’d be just fine alone, neither of them had considered such a dilemma.
She reached her hands behind her but, after less than a minute of fumbling, her arms already ached. The small stays she wore, along with the fact that her bodice fit more tightly than it had a few months before, would make sleep most uncomfortable.
Footsteps sounding in the corridor reminding her that Luke was here and she could ask him for assistance.
Not that she required reminding of his proximity. She was all too aware…
After cooking a simple stew together, they’d lingered at the table, sharing anecdotes of their childhoods as well as those of their siblings. Luke loved his family most ardently, and she’d admitted to the same. They’d lingered until long after dark, and while Naomi tended to the cleaning up, Luke had gone outside to check on the animals in the barn. He was just now returning.
She ought to feel strange, having him here. She ought to be concerned at how seamlessly he fit into her life.
He was the son of a duke, a major in the British Army. He had his own family. He’d be required to return to the conflict soon. Before that, he was going to want to go home to see his brother and sisters.
She reached over her head and then tried to reach around her back again. It seemed even more impossible on this attempt. Of all the ways she was going to have to become independent, she’d already failed at this.
Gah!
“Luke?” she cried out.
When he didn’t answer, she padded barefoot across the floor and opened her door. At the same time, he opened his from across the hall. Obviously, far more adept at undressing himself, he already wore only his breeches. The sight of smooth, silky-looking skin stretched across his chest and torso reminded her of the day he’d been working on the porch. How they’d flexed beneath his linen shirt when he lifted the hammer and strained when he’d twisted to catch her watching him.
Her breath whooshed out of her lungs, leaving her speechless.
What kind of woman was she that she had an almost irresistible urge to lick that smooth skin?
To lick him? Oh, but wait, she’d already done that when she’d thrown herself at him earlier this afternoon.
“Did you need something, Naomi?” A smirk hovered on his lips. Lips that she’d tasted and that she knew could be both soft and firm.
It was almost as though he was reading her thoughts. He really was far too skilled
at doing that. Not only did he seem to know what she was thinking, but what she was feeling as well. Or perhaps she was just abysmal at hiding anything from him.
“Um.” What had she needed him for? Aside from… “I can’t unfasten my gown.”
Blurting out the request sounded far more suggestive then when she’d practiced it in her mind.
Judging by the flare in those periwinkle eyes gazing back at her, her request sounded equally inappropriate to him.
“Ester usually…”
“Of course.” But his throat pulsed as he swallowed hard.
Perhaps having him stay here overnight wasn’t such a good idea after all.
She dropped her lashes and stared at his bare feet. Slim, elegant, masculine. Noticing the smattering of almost imperceptible hairs on his toes seemed oddly more intimate than staring at his chest.
She turned to present her back to him and lifted her hands to the nape of her neck in so she could first unpin the low knot, allowing him access to the top of her garment. As her hair came free, she lifted the heavy strands, assuring herself that she’d had no choice in this matter. Furthermore, this wasn’t nearly as inappropriate as if she’d asked him to assist her with this in her bedchamber.
She held herself steady, holding the hair higher on her head as the floorboards creaked behind her. Even if she hadn’t been able to hear him, she no doubt would have felt his approach. Whenever the distance closed between the two of them, her body came alive in a uniquely unnerving manner.
His fingers whispered at the back of her neck as he unfastened the top and she shivered. “Are you cold?” His hand settled onto her shoulder and the urge to curl herself into him nearly overpowered her.
“A little,” she answered. The weather had turned colder outside; in fact, at night now, the window in her chamber often rattled at night. Autumn would soon become winter, Christmas would be here, and before she realized, she’d be counting the twelve nights.
A new year.
She lowered one hand to the top of her swollen abdomen. A new life. Less than two months remained by her estimations.
Luke went back to work on her gown and the fabric loosened. She wore short stays over her chemise but her petticoats no longer fit over her belly. Still, Luke wouldn’t have even a glimpse of her skin.
What would he do if she dropped the gown? She chastised herself for considering it.
Which she wasn’t, really.
“Do you need help with this?” His fingertips grazed just above the thick fabric of the stays.
“It ties in the front.”
What there was of it. She’d refrained from wearing her normal stays right after Arthur disappeared. As in literally, the moment he was out of sight, she’d found Ester and declared that she couldn’t wear them one minute longer.
But she’d wanted to look her best to bid her husband farewell.
The thought that he’d spent his last night in England with another woman… Was that true as well? She would likely never know.
It didn’t matter. He was gone.
“Do you want me to build a fire for you?” He rubbed his hands up and down her arms. As she was coming to appreciate all too fondly, his touch felt heavenly. Naomi released the hair she’d been holding up and relaxed into him. Oh, but if she allowed him into her bedchamber, she doubted she’d let him out.
“I’ll be warm enough.” More than warm enough if the flush coursing through her lasted even a portion of the night.
Something had changed between them; barriers had broken after that kiss on the side of the road—and of course, the matter of her climbing on top of him in her bedchamber.
But it was more than that. She blushed and dismissed the embarrassing scene from earlier.
“Do you feel betrayed by him too?” She’d wondered. Was Luke also disappointed in Arthur or did men take this sort of thing in stride?
He didn’t answer right away.
“Not the same as you.” His breath warmed the side of her neck. “But he lied to his comrades. He allowed us to believe he was clear-headed—focused. And I can’t help but believe that he might have been distracted—that it’s possible he was vulnerable because of the problems he’d made for himself at home. His vulnerabilities affected our unit. He could have come clean with me at any point, and I might have realized he wasn’t the best person for that particular mission. Were there signs that I missed? Could his death, could the loss of five men have been prevented? I hate everything he did to you. It was unforgivable. But I’m also sick that I didn’t realize he was hiding it. If I’d known he was distracted, I might not have sent him out that day.”
It wasn’t the answer she’d expected.
“I didn’t think about that.”
“We train, we plan, and we strategize. But in the end, it often comes down to listening to your gut instinct. And that involves alerting all of your senses. It might be too quiet, for instance. Or a branch snaps when it shouldn’t. The ground is softer or harder than it ought to be. And it’s your responsibility, your duty, to put all of that together and decide if the territory is safe.”
“And that was Arthur’s job?”
“It was his job but my responsibility.”
“You can’t do everything, Luke.” He would feel guilt over the ambush for a long time though. He was that sort of man.
He slid his arms down her shoulders and settled them around her, just below her breasts. “I tell myself that all the time.”
“You need to listen to yourself. You’re very wise.”
He kissed the side of her face for that. “Wise eh?” And then, after exhaling a deep sigh, he released her and stepped away. “I’ll have to mark this day on my calendar: Naomi admits Luke is wise.”
She snickered and glanced over her shoulder. “Goodnight, Luke.”
“Goodnight, Naomi.”
Chapter Twelve
Sitting at the small writing desk in her bedchamber—alone—Naomi opened her journal and read words that she could never have imagined writing in a thousand years.
About Luke.
His words from earlier rolled around in her mind and she never wanted to forget them.
I will make love to you. I promise you that. But not now. Not like this… your clothing would be strewn around the floor already. And I’d be learning every inch of you—savoring… the taste between your silky thighs. And when you are ready, I’ll know the heaven of being inside of you.
She read through her words—his words, shivering a little inside—no less than ten times, before closing the journal and sliding it into the drawer. Someday, when she was an old woman, she would read through them again and remember that she’d once invoked passion in a very handsome gentleman—Lord Major Lucas Cockfield.
She drew the counterpane down, climbed underneath, and curled into a ball, tucking her hands between her knees. When she closed her eyes, Luke’s image came to mind. She’d had his hair threaded through her fingers. Everything about him was hard, strong, dependable, and seemingly unbreakable. The baby soft texture of his hair had surprised her.
And now she wondered what his hair would feel like against the skin of her legs, her thighs, her belly. The vision it evoked caused her breath to hitch and her heart to race.
Silky thighs…
Arthur had touched her there, but he’d never…
Her hand crept up from her knees to flesh that was more sensitive, and then wet.
Luke had said he would taste her. His lips would be tender but demanding.
Naomi stroked her fingers along her own intimate flesh. His tongue would be wet, hot. His whiskers would feel rough. She dipped her fingers inside and then out. She was wicked and wanton. Would she feel his teeth? She stroked herself harder. He’d use his hands on her as well. How many times had she watched him wield a tool with precision and confidence? He would be confident in this. Naomi arched her back, pressing the flat of her palm against herself, rubbing. It had been so long. She’d ignored the need for so very
long.
I will make love to you. I promise you that. Naomi rolled onto her back and was circling her palm over her mons. In her mind, it was his face between her legs. She’d press him closer.
Your clothing would be strewn around the floor.
Naomi brought her other hand up and over her belly to cradle her breast. Her body jerked in response.
And I’d be learning every inch of you
She slid her middle finger in and out, and rubbed her hand over other places needing friction.
—savoring the taste between your silky thighs.
Silky thighs…
Naomi threw her head back, arching into her hand. Luke. Luke.
And when you were ready
She was so close. His face. His tongue. His mouth. His tongue. His tongue. And then.
His member. Thick. Hot.
I’d know the heaven of being inside of you.
She cried out and then gasped at the pleasure coursing through her. This was so wrong. So very wrong. But it felt so good.
She arched again, and again, allowing the sensations to crash over and then roll through her. Until gradually, they subsided, leaving her relaxed, sprawled on her bed, her bones the consistency of pudding.
If only Luke was here to cuddle her. Being with him was a dream. A dream of what could have been. It hadn’t been fair—what she’d demanded of him this afternoon. She’d wanted to use him to make herself feel better. To make her feel something good for a change. And although she’d known he would have found pleasure as well, it wouldn’t have been fair. Because how could she ever trust herself again where love was concerned? She’d been convinced Arthur had loved her and he’d been convincing another woman at the same time. Luke was speaking all the right words. Doing all the right things. But he was a young man who had his entire life ahead of him.
She was… used.
Being a widow was going to be lonely indeed.
* * *
A thumping sound. A tortured shout. Naomi bolted upright. Was someone breaking into the house? Awareness slowly returned. Ester wasn’t here but Naomi wasn’t in the house alone. Luke was across the hall. Another anguished cry had her swinging her feet off the side of the bed and onto the cold floor. Was he ill?
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