“Surely you want something.”
“You’ve been kind to me. And that’s worth something.” Kind wasn’t the right word, but how could she explain to him that he was the first man who had paid any attention to her? The first man who had shown any interest at all, despite the futility of it.
“Kind is not a word most people would use to describe me,” he countered. His tone turned dark, coated with bitterness.
“Perhaps they should.”
Slowly, he rose from his chair, using his crutches to aid him toward the fireplace on the far end of the room. It was just over a week until Christmas and already Mrs. Larson had decorated the mantel with pine boughs and holly. Candles glowed around the room and near the windowsill. Victoria followed him, unsure of why he’d left the dinner table. His face was haloed against the firelight, but the expression was shielded. She didn’t know whether he wanted to speak with her or whether she should return to the table.
“Why are you staring at me?” she whispered.
His green eyes held her captive. “Don’t you know the answer to that?”
She couldn’t bring herself to answer, for her heart was racing. She wanted to believe that he cared for her, but she was afraid of the true reason.
“I like what I see when I look at you,” he told her. “And I’ve never been particularly good with obeying conventions.”
The compliment slipped beneath the crevices of her heart, leaving her to feel awkward, not knowing how to respond to it. Snowflakes swirled against the windowpane, and he stared outside at them. “I’ve always enjoyed watching snow fall. Especially when it’s warm inside, with a fire burning on the hearth.”
“It’s not as warm as it could be,” she apologized. “The fire is dying down, and it’s a little cold in this room because the house is old and drafty. I’m sorry, but—”
“I’m making you nervous, aren’t I?”
“Very.” She wanted desperately to return to the dinner table, to sit apart from him and gather up her muddled thoughts.
Mr. Nottoway moved away from her to stand beside the window, still watching the snow fall. “You’ve nothing to fear from me, Miss Andrews. After spending a week together, I think you’d know that.”
For long minutes, she stood watching him. He was taller than her, but not so much that she had to lean back to look at his face. His hair was lighter than her own, and against the moonlit snow, it had a silvery gleam to it. But upon his face, there was a hardness, like a man who wanted no one to see inside him. Shuttered, leaving no trace of emotion.
She took a tentative step forward, but he didn’t appear to notice. Invisible strings seemed to pull her closer, until she stood slightly behind him.
The darkness loomed through the glass, and her hands clenched at her sides as she pushed back the fear. Over the past week, she’d grown to be friends with this man, and Mr. Nottoway knew nothing of her seclusion. He never looked upon her as if she were a madwoman, and with him she felt… almost normal.
“The snow is lovely,” she confessed. And despite the blackness of the night, the candlelight illuminated the fat flakes drifting downward.
This time, he turned toward her. “Yes. It is lovely.”
But he wasn’t looking at the snow at all. Instead, his eyes were fixed upon her, with a hunger she didn’t understand. He set his crutches against the wall and slowly lifted his hand to her cheek. The unexpected touch of his palm froze her feet in place, and beneath her skin, a sudden tremor rose up.
“We’ve done this all wrong, haven’t we?” he murmured. “I’ve ruined you, and I haven’t even touched you.”
“You haven’t ruined me.”
“Haven’t I?” His voice was warm velvet, a caress in the dark. She covered his hand with her own, reveling in the contrast between her cool skin and his warm fingers. Never had she imagined that she could stand before a man who was looking at her in this way. As if he wanted her.
“Tell me if I should stop.” He leaned in, his heated mouth stealing hers.
Chapter Seven
VICTORIA STOOD motionless, not knowing what to do. The shock of the kiss was a searing heat against her frozen senses. She accepted the firm pressure of his lips, uncertain of how to respond.
“Kiss me back,” he ordered, framing her face with his hands. Color blazed in her cheeks, but she obeyed, hesitantly moving her mouth against his. She’d never kissed anyone before, but he was lazy about it, drawing her into a deeper temptation. Victoria opened her mouth, and his kiss intensified, pushing away any hesitations she might have felt. The fiery heat was spreading through her, tightening her breasts, and making her want… more. She was losing herself in him, and she didn’t care.
Abruptly, she gripped his neck, pressing her body against his. A hard ridge pressed against her stomach, and she faltered, not knowing what was happening to them.
“Don’t be afraid,” he said against her lips, kissing them again. “I would never hurt you.”
She believed him, but deep inside, she wanted to experience more of this temptation. Soon enough, he would be gone. And never again would she know what it was to be kissed by a man. The thought broke away another piece of her heart.
He ended the kiss, drawing her into a tight embrace. “I shouldn’t have done that. But I’ve wanted to kiss you since the first day I saw you.”
He drew back and brushed a lock of her hair over one ear. “You’re not the sort of woman I’m used to.”
It wasn’t clear whether or not that was a compliment. “What sort of women have you kissed in the past?”
A sardonic expression twisted his mouth. “Women who pretended to be someone they weren’t. They acted as if they wanted my attentions, but I knew they didn’t. It was always about money.”
Though he behaved as if he didn’t care, she sensed the ghost of pain behind his words. “Was there ever a woman you loved?”
He nodded, his gaze turning distant.
“What happened to her?”
“My father made a few bad investments and fell into debt. She ended our engagement because she believed I would become penniless.”
“Then you were better off without her.” It angered her that someone he loved would be so callous as to give greater importance to money than to him. Although she and her sisters had been brought up with the expectation of making an advantageous marriage, she couldn’t imagine abandoning a man she cared about.
“Even though I told her I wasn’t without funds of my own, she refused to believe it. I had some income my father never knew about.” He reached out to rest his hands upon her shoulders, and she held herself motionless, drinking in his touch.
“You needn’t worry about me now, Miss Andrews. I’ve repaid his debts, and money is no longer a problem for me. Rest assured, I’ll repay you for any expenses incurred from my care.”
“I wasn’t worried about that.” She didn’t move when his hands moved up to her bare nape, skimming down the surface of her skin. A breath caught in her throat, and she closed her eyes at the sensation.
“You intrigue me,” he murmured, lowering his mouth to her shoulder. “I find myself wanting to know your secrets.”
“I have none worth telling.”
“Liar.” The word vibrated against her throat, sending a thousand shivers over her skin. Her thoughts were slipping away as her body responded to him. She touched his hair, feeling like a wanton woman. He rewarded her by pulling her flush against him. His hard strength contrasted against her softness, and he bent down, as if to kiss her again.
But this time, his mouth found the softness beneath her chin, and the dark heat sent a shuddering pulse between her legs. She ached for more, even as her conscience reminded her of how wrong this was.
“I will be leaving,” he murmured against her throat. “But it doesn’t mean we couldn’t enjoy the last moments we have together.” His hands moved from her waist to her rib cage, and her heart pounded faster. “If you’re willing.”
A
river of ice slid through her veins at his implication. He was asking her to behave like a mistress, to allow him even more liberties. Was that what he thought of her? That she would welcome his seduction?
Why wouldn’t he? her conscience chided. He’s already stolen a kiss. And you’ve done nothing to hold him at a distance. You’ve let him believe you desire him.
With every moment she’d spent with this man, she’d allowed her loneliness to take command of her senses. He’d filled up the empty spaces in her heart, letting her imagine what it would be like to have a husband.
But he wasn’t going to fall in love with her and marry her. And if she allowed him to touch her, to show her the face of desire, it would only hurt her more when he left.
Victoria grew still, pushing free of his embrace. Emotion caught in her throat, along with the wild need to escape. She needed to breathe, to think. “No,” she whispered. “That’s not the woman I am.”
An indifferent mask slid over his face, and she moved away from him. Her corset was starting to cut off the air, making her feel faint. “I can’t.” She picked up her skirts, and tried to leave in a calm manner, but her hands were shaking. He would think the worst of her, but she didn’t care.
In the foyer, her knees nearly buckled, as she took the stairs two at a time. Bursting through her bedroom door, she moved toward the window, lowering her head.
The tears were bottled up inside of her, locked away. Right now, she wanted to shatter the pane of glass that separated her from the outside world. Why had he said such a thing? She’d broken many rules in the past week, true enough, but it didn’t make her a woman of loose virtue.
Victoria bit her lip, trying to quiet the storm of anger inside. His kiss had reached past the boundaries, awakening her to desires she’d only imagined. Even to think of it now sent a shudder of need pooling inside.
She’d responded to him, succumbing to temptation. She hadn’t recognized herself, and when his mouth had moved over her throat, she’d imagined it upon her skin… lower, in more wicked places.
It terrified her to realize that it could have happened this night. If she had fallen into his seduction, he might be in her bedchamber this very moment.
But he’d not asked her to wed him… he’d wanted to enjoy her, like a woman he could use and cast aside. And she had never given him any reason to believe she would say no. Embarrassment flooded into her cheeks, and she wanted to hang her head in shame.
A quiet knock sounded at the door. “Miss Andrews, are ye all right?”
“Come in.” She needed Mrs. Larson to help her get undressed. Even better, she wanted to burrow under the covers and pretend that none of this had happened.
She didn’t know how to explain to Mr. Nottoway that she’d allowed her imagination to wander down the wrong path. Her wayward heart had somehow hoped that he would come to love her, that he would unlock the prison of her fears. If she had a reason to leave the house, if he wanted to marry her… it might happen.
She moved to stand by the window, touching the frigid glass. Outside, the snow was battering the house, blanketing the ground with the frost of winter. Beyond the glass lay her deepest fears and the future she wanted. If ever she intended to be a man’s wife, to be a mother, she would have to venture beyond it.
Mr. Nottoway knew nothing of her inability to go outside. And she didn’t know if she could bring herself to reveal it. He might believe it was madness instead of fear. God help her, she never wanted to see him stare at her with revulsion instead of desire.
When the housekeeper entered, she took one look at Victoria and the sympathy on the matron’s face was enough to break through the shield of pain. A single tear rolled down her face, a manifestation of the feelings she couldn’t release.
“I’ll be telling your mother about this,” Mrs. Larson insisted. “And if that bampot needs to be struck across the nob, I’ll be glad to do it for ye.”
A raw laugh broke through the tears. “No, it doesn’t matter. He’ll be leaving, and I suppose that’ll be the end of it.” Though Victoria didn’t want him to go. She gripped her arms, taking a slow, deep breath. She wanted so much more from her life, and she would never reach it if she didn’t find the courage to try. “I’m not the sort of woman he’d want to marry anyway.”
“Now what’s the matter with a lady like yourself?” Mrs. Larson demanded. “You’re a bonny lass, and if he can’t see that, then he’s got nae sense at all.”
“He doesn’t know about… the way I am.”
“There, there, pet.” Mrs. Larson came up behind her and began helping her undress. “You’re as good as any other woman, despite your troubles. When the right man comes along, everything will be fine. You’ll forget all about this one.”
Victoria said nothing, but her gaze fell upon the brown paper package she’d prepared to send to London. It contained the black corset she’d finished. Though it had followed a similar design to her own undergarment, the silk was far softer, and she’d trimmed it with lace. All in all, it appeared expensive and luxurious—a garment that would please any woman, even if she had to suffer through a period of mourning.
But right now, it only reminded her of the feelings Mr. Nottoway had stirred. As Mrs. Larson unlaced her corset and drew the heavy garment off, Victoria touched her swollen lips. He had done this to her, offering her a glimpse of what it was to be touched by a man. Again and again, she replayed his words in her mind, trying to understand him.
He wanted her, and his proposition had bothered her deeply. He likely wanted her as a mistress… when she wanted to be a wife.
Her brain cried out that it wasn’t possible, that he would never consider it. But he’d fired up feelings of need she’d never known. She needed to find her courage and confess the truth, no matter how great the risk.
Quickly, she drew on a wrapper over her nightdress. “Wait,” she whispered to the housekeeper. “There’s more that I need to say to him.”
Jonathan sat in the parlor beside the hearth, his discarded crutches within reach. He should never have made such an offer without thinking of how it would sound. Victoria was nothing like the avaricious ladies who’d graced the London ballrooms, trying to ensnare a duke. She was completely unaware of his vast wealth.
He could gift her with a thousand pounds and never miss the sum. Yet, it would irrevocably change her life. Her earlier remark, that she saw no need to be rewarded for saving his life, confounded him. The house was old, in need of repairs. Her clothing was worn and outdated. Surely, her family would welcome the money.
But when she’d kissed him back, every reason why he needed to leave simply dissolved against the honey of her mouth. She fit beautifully against him, and when her arms had come around his neck, he’d wanted to take her upstairs. He wanted to know this woman, to touch her and watch her face transform into passion.
He wanted to keep her, though it was impossible. As an officer’s daughter, she wouldn’t survive the complex rules that governed the ladies of the ton. Bringing her there would be like throwing her to a pack of snarling wolves. She’d never belong.
But it was so different here. Her innocent kiss had crumbled away the years of loneliness, the horrifying images of the past. In her arms, he forgot about who he was.
He’d destroyed their emerging friendship with a few careless words, and he didn’t know how to undo the damage he’d wrought. She… meant something to him, though he didn’t know what name to give the protective emotion.
It was nothing like the feelings he’d felt for Lady Meredith Baldwin. Beautiful, elegant, and the daughter of a marquess, Lady Meredith had charmed him with her sweet disposition. She’d sent him secret smiles from across the ballroom, making him believe that she wanted no other man but him. He’d fallen hard for her, only to find that her promises were as empty as her words.
Yet, Miss Andrews had never once told him what he’d wanted to hear. She’d given him nothing but honesty, from the first.
“I should
like to say a few things to you,” came her voice from the far end of the room. “If you have a moment.”
He turned and saw Victoria standing in the shadows. The creamy wrapper she wore made it appear that she was wearing moonlight. Her dark blond hair spilled over her shoulders, as if she hadn’t had time to braid it yet. The locks rested upon her breasts, leading his irresponsible thoughts down the path to sin.
“I regret what I said,” he began. “And while yes, you may say what you wish to me, I’ll begin with my apology.”
She tightened her grip on the dressing gown, as if to shield herself from him. “I don’t know what kind of women you are accustomed to, Mr. Nottoway, but just because I kissed you didn’t mean it was going to go any further than that.”
“You’re right. And it’s been a long time since I’ve kissed a woman,” he admitted. “I’m notably bad at it.”
His dark attempt at humor made her frown. “It was my first kiss.” The confession held a note of regret, as if she didn’t intend to do it again. And didn’t that make him feel even worse?
“I believe I have a solution,” he said. “One that would suit both of us.”
She frowned as if she’d already guessed his proposition. Jonathan didn’t allow her to speak, not wanting her to protest until he’d had his say. “I know you’d prefer that I leave, but unfortunately I can’t until my staff returns.” He sent her an apologetic smile, adding, “Though I supposed you’d be glad to get rid of me. I tend to be a man who speaks his mind and doesn’t care about the consequences. Few would call me good-natured.”
She remained with her back pressed to the wall, but shook her head. “Any man would be ill-tempered after being shot.”
He grimaced as he stood up, holding on to the furniture as he made his way back toward the bed. “I’m always this way. No woman in her right mind would want a man like me.”
Lady Meredith had already proven that. She’d swiftly abandoned him, as soon as his father’s debts were revealed. And when the ultimate scandal struck and his parents were found dead, she’d wanted nothing to do with him. If she’d cared, even a little, she might have stood by him. Instead, she hadn’t spoken to him again.
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