Bound with Love

by Megan Mulry

  “I’ll be back before eight, then. Shall I invite Trevor and James?”

  Nora leapt at the chance to steer the conversation into less emotional territory. “Yes, please do. It’s been over a fortnight since they were last here to dine, and that’s far too long. And we’re having quail and we have several braces on hand, so I’ll tell the cook to make plenty as I know it’s Rushford’s favorite.”

  Georgie smiled at Nora, a smile she never seemed to have at the ready for her mother, Vanessa noticed. Sometimes she thought Nora had been cast as the fairy godmother and Vanessa the evil witch in this fairy tale.

  “Thank you, Nora, that sounds perfect.” Georgie gave her a quick hug, and Nora whispered something Vanessa didn’t quite catch—but it sounded like, “Be patient with your mother, darling.”

  Georgie smiled at Nora, then turned to face Vanessa one last time. Her smile faltered. “I’ll see you at dinner, Mother.”

  As Vanessa looked at her daughter—really looked—she was filled with a harrowing fear that neither of them would ever be able to truly see each other.

  Nora stood at the door and watched Georgie and Archie stroll down the shaded drive and then peel off toward the walking path that led to Mayfield. She and Vanessa stood silently in the large entry for many minutes until the two siblings had finally turned out of sight. Pia and Anna and their husbands had retired for the afternoon to rest before dinner.

  “I am ashamed of you,” Nora whispered hotly, when they were finally alone. “I have never been ashamed of you. I have been angry, disappointed. I have loved you—”

  Vanessa’s intake of breath interrupted Nora’s quiet litany. “Why am I to blame? Georgie obviously hates me.”

  “We get what we give in this world, Vanessa. You of all people . . .” Nora felt the press of tears at the back of her throat. “How could you?”

  Nora watched as Vanessa straightened her spine and tried to take advantage of the not-insignificant height she held over Nora. “How could I what? How could I be disappointed that such a beautiful creature would . . . would . . . deface herself like that?”

  Nora’s tears came, and she didn’t bother wiping them away. “She cut her hair, Vanessa. Is your love so fickle?”

  The flush of anger swept up Vanessa’s throat. “How dare you! You don’t know what it’s like—”

  Nora barked a laugh through her tears and watched as one of the footman began to exit the drawing room only to retreat like a timid mouse when Vanessa shot him a look.

  “I don’t know what it’s like to be a mother, is that it?” Nora croaked. “And you are such a fine example? Is that right?”

  “I don’t need to stand for this.” Vanessa grabbed at her summer skirts and turned for the large stairwell.

  Nora took one final inhale of fresh air—the autumnal hint was just starting to thread its way through the wind—then shut the large front doors and wiped her cheeks with the handkerchief she kept tucked in her sleeve. She opened the drawing room and smiled at the two servants who were looking straight ahead. “The coast is clear.” Neither of them moved while she watched, but as she slowly ascended the stairs she heard them shuffling around and preparing to exit the room.

  She had forgiven Vanessa far too easily, far too often. Nora knew she had fallen into the habit of skimming over Vanessa’s shortcomings all these years. What was the point in focusing on the faults of a loved one? Wasn’t that the very thing she was trying to condemn in Vanessa?

  But now, as she walked up these familiar stairs with a heavy heart, she realized she had failed in some critical way. The beauty of the life they shared would not be diminished if she challenged Vanessa on this. In fact, perhaps it would be even better.

  When she opened the door to their large suite, Nora didn’t know what she had expected, but it wasn’t this. Vanessa might have been prone to running off at the mouth, but she rarely took action without forethought and soldierly planning. “What in the world?”

  Dresses were flying out of the wardrobe. Smalls were flung from the dresser. “I’m leaving. You all despise me, and it’s no wonder. I am despicable.” She was crying, but they were the racking sobs of someone entirely unaccustomed to tears.

  Approaching Vanessa slowly, as she would a mad dog, Nora crossed the room and put her hand gently on Vanessa’s shoulder. “Stop this at once.”

  The unfamiliar tone of command must have penetrated her furor, because Vanessa’s tantrum froze on the spot. Her breathing was choppy and her face was a blotched mess. Nora reached for her cheek and stroked away a stray tear. “My beautiful, commanding Vanessa. You see yourself at last.”

  She was shaking beneath Nora’s tender hand. “Yes. And I am ugly. I want to crawl out of my own skin.”

  “Darling, stop.” Nora leaned in and kissed her neck and then guided Vanessa to the edge of their bed. She situated her as easily as she would have moved a doll. Her passive compliance was unusual but not unwelcome. Nora wanted to be the strong one now, wanted Vanessa to see they were both the strong ones, and always had been. Nora sat down next to her, holding both of Vanessa’s hands in hers.

  “Are you going to leave me?” Vanessa asked. “You said you loved me, in the past tense, so I thought . . .” Her voice petered out, like that of a scared, defiant child, trying to pretend it wouldn’t matter to her one way or the other if Nora left her or had stopped loving her.

  Nora kissed the back of her hand. “I will never leave you, my dear. I will never stop loving you. You are well and truly stuck with me until the end of time. And even after the end of time, I will find you.”

  “But why would you stay?” Vanessa’s voice caught again, and a scraping gasp escaped her.

  “Because I love you.” Nora looked down at their joined hands. “We’ve put off this conversation for far too long. For years, I suspect.” She trailed her fingers along Vanessa’s collarbone, firm and delicate all at once. She loved how Vanessa softened beneath her touch. “You were my savior, and I think we both reveled in the truth of that. I needed saving. And you were the splendid angel sent to save me.” Nora shook her head in wonder. She thought of the young nun—probably no older than she’d been at the time—carrying her ravaged body through the back alleys of Madrid and bringing her to the servants’ entrance of the British Embassy. How the young woman found the wherewithal to do such a thing had always struck Nora as an act of God.

  “But you don’t need me anymore. Georgie doesn’t need me. I feel so lost, Nora. So lost and afraid. Useless.” The admission must have cost her, and Nora pulled her close to let her weep against her chest.

  “Vanessa, my love. You have it all mixed up. We need you more than ever.”

  Vanessa sniffed and looked into her eyes. “My children are grown. Archie is here, of course, but I can tell he is retreating into his mind. He’s—” She shook her head. “I feel as though everyone is slipping through my fingers. And the tighter I hold on, the faster they slip away.”

  Nora placed delicate kisses at the base of Vanessa’s neck as she whispered, “Then perhaps it’s time you learned to let go.”

  “I wouldn’t know where to begin—” Vanessa’s words were cut short when Nora bit the tendon along her neck. “Nora!” The way Vanessa said her name revealed a splendid mix of lust and surprise. “What are you doing?”

  “Helping you begin.” She pulled away and then stood up. “Take your clothes off.”

  “I beg your pardon?” Vanessa was adorably confused. Nora wasn’t sure she’d ever seen her quite so baffled.

  Nora began to prowl around the bed, pacing back and forth and contemplating Vanessa in the same manner she would contemplate one of her canvases. Studying her. Weighing her options. “You need practice, Vanessa. Just like learning a new sport or a new language. You must learn how to simply release the reins and receive. If you cannot do a thing, you must be shown. Take off your clothes and lie back on the bed and let me love you.”

  Vanessa’s throat tightened. She stood up, confu
sed and hot with desire . . . and scared. “But I want to show you—” She reached for Nora, then dropped her hand when Nora pulled away.

  “I mean it, Vanessa. Clothes off. And not another word. You are officially off duty, do you understand me?”

  Over the years, the two of them had enjoyed many bedroom games—from role-playing to tying each other up to toying with the wax from the bedside candle on the most sensitive areas of their bodies—but this was something else altogether. It was slowly dawning on Vanessa that even in those moments of being tied to the bed with Nora’s clever mouth teasing her body to ever greater pleasure, Vanessa had always been, as Nora said, on duty. Vanessa was in charge—not just as some sort of power grab, but because that’s who she was. She was a leader. And she was tired.

  “I know you’re frightened.” Nora’s voice was gentle, so sweet, as it always was. But there was a new steely ring to it, a control that Vanessa had never heard. She was compelled to obey. “But you will see only when you shut your eyes. And you will feel the joy of giving yourself to me entirely only when you stop trying to control those feelings.” Nora came closer, but still didn’t touch her. “Take. Off. Your. Clothes.” The words were hot, commanding breaths that fluttered against Vanessa’s ear.

  So she did. She lowered her eyes to the floor and began to undo her walking dress. Her clothes were designed for convenience, for easy removal without the help of a maid. She had given up corsets and other male-invented torture devices years ago. Her fingers trembled as she worked the fabric loose and then slipped her overdress off her shoulders, letting it pool on the floor.

  Nora was still circling. “Very good, darling. Now the rest.” Treating her to the slightest encouraging touch, Nora trailed a single finger along the exposed skin at her nape. “And close your eyes.”

  Vanessa inhaled through her nose and then did as she was told. Everything was suddenly terrifying. If she was not raging or talking or working or making love to Nora—if she was not doing—she didn’t know who she was. Her fingers trembled at the familiar ties around her neckline and waist. She had undressed in the dark many times, so it wasn’t a matter of not knowing what to do because her eyes were closed. It was a matter of giving up her will, of truly allowing Nora to care for her. It was cataclysmic, the realization that she had tied all of her self-worth to her actions—to accomplishments and feats—and had always defined herself by what she had done, rather than who she had been.

  She began to quietly weep. Standing there naked and alone, unable to control anything or anyone—realizing she had always been this way—she shivered in terror. What if she could never learn to simply be? Then Nora’s hands were soothing her, calming her, loving her—and Vanessa wept harder.

  “Shhh,” Nora whispered close to her ear. “I’m here, love. You are not alone. You do not need to take care of anyone or anything right now. Do you understand?”

  Vanessa nodded and gulped in air.

  And then Nora’s lips were on her, at first with chaste kisses along her shoulder and neck, then down the length of her arm. Vanessa’s body heated and tightened in awareness. Out of habit she reached blindly for Nora’s hair, to grab at her and pull her close.

  “No hands, darling. You must simply take it.” Nora gently extracted Vanessa’s hold from her head, where she gripped tightly. “Trust me.”

  Vanessa’s breath shallowed, and then she let her hands drop to her sides. She finally understood that she had never really trusted anyone. Her parents had died. Her husband had died. To her mind, the only solution had been to take a firmer grasp, to demand things of life, and especially to keep everyone close. She took a deep breath and forced herself to let go as Nora had instructed; she tried to trust.

  “Very good.” Nora rewarded her with a kiss on her mound and a teasing swipe of her tongue.

  “Nora . . .” She hadn’t meant to speak, truly she hadn’t.

  “No talking.” As a small punishment, Nora withdrew completely—no light kisses or smoothing caresses and certainly no clever tongue. Vanessa was once again standing in the middle of her large room feeling like a ship with a very tall mast swaying vulnerably in rough seas, the sound of rushing blood in her ears like crashing waves assaulting her. She heard the sluice of fabric and skin—then, thankfully, a few seconds later, Nora was back.

  All her frantic worry vanished when Nora pressed her naked body against her back. The temptation to reach around and pull her harder, to dig her hands into Nora’s hips and keep her, was profound. Instead, she gripped her hands in fists at her sides.

  “Relax and take it, my love.” Nora’s voice was as much a balm as her touch. “Stop holding everything in, remember?” Nora’s fingers caressed her fists until they loosened. “Let go, Vanessa.” Her hands slowly eased open, and Nora wove their fingers together. “Rely on me,” Nora whispered.

  The three simple words were like a spell that released her from her self-imposed prison. She exhaled and inhaled slowly.

  “That’s it,” Nora encouraged. “Now to the bed.”

  Keeping her eyes closed and relying on Nora to lead her, Vanessa let years of tension ebb from her body. All the years of worry and control—perhaps some of it had been productive, but had all of her endless machinations really mattered more than this? More than the feel of Nora’s fingertips along her neck, more than the bone-deep knowledge that she was loved, wholly and deeply, by someone who knew her greatest flaws and loved her anyway?

  Nora began to make love to her in a way that she had never experienced before.

  “I’m not going to restrain you, because I want to see your complete release, without you fighting against it. I want you to welcome all the love I’m going to give you, not resist it.” Nora grazed her fingertips lightly over the sensitive skin just above her mound. Vanessa’s hips bucked involuntarily. “This is the woman I love—this responsive, loving, vibrant creature.”

  Her hand dipped lower and Vanessa struggled not to open her eyes and reach out her arms to grab Nora and pull her to her.

  “You, Vanessa. I love you—the laughing, crying, generous woman you are.” She teased and soothed her slick opening. “Nothing else matters. Do you understand?”

  Vanessa lifted her hips again, this time offering herself to Nora completely. And, deep in her soul, she finally believed herself worthy of the unconditional love she received. Only now, she grasped, would she be able to give freely what she had never been able to receive.

  Two hours later, she was a wilted pile of satisfied flesh and bone. And she still hadn’t said a word or opened her eyes. Nora rested languidly against Vanessa’s stomach, where she was still kissing the turn of her hip, after wrenching that fourth orgasm out of her. Without words or eye contact, their lovemaking had taken on a primal quality, with Nora finding her own pleasure with as much guttural satisfaction as she’d given to Vanessa.

  “May I speak now?” Vanessa whispered, her voice raspy from their lovemaking and her silence.

  “I’ll have to think about it. You are so lovely when I force you to be patient and receptive. I should have done it years ago.”

  Vanessa sighed with gusty satisfaction. “Very well. I shan’t talk or open my eyes.” She flopped her arms above her head. “I don’t mind much about the not talking, but please do let me know when I can touch you again because my fingertips are swollen and tingling for you.”

  “That’s all talking, you know?”

  Vanessa simply smiled with her eyes closed.

  Nora kissed her way up Vanessa’s stomach, and Vanessa stretched and arched against Nora’s lips. She had scaled the length of her body until they were face-to-face. “Open your eyes, my beautiful lady.”

  Slowly, she blinked and saw Nora, as if for the first time. She was reminded of the night they’d met, only this time Vanessa was the one coming back to life and Nora was her angel.

  “It is quite nice to be the one doing the saving for a change,” Nora whispered, and then leaned down and kissed her on the lips. Th
eir eyes stayed opened and locked as the kiss deepened into a profound joining of souls.

  By the time Nora pulled away, Vanessa was panting and overwhelmed all over again. She was absolutely certain that Nora’s breath against her skin was the flutter of an angel’s wings. “And it is quite nice to be saved.”

  “Why didn’t you tell them about our plans?” Trevor Mayson was the picture-perfect country gentleman. Quite literally. Nora White had painted his portrait so many times he had become a sort of pastoral ideal in the picture galleries of London and drawing rooms across the continent. He was tall without being overbearing, elegant without being too feminine. His wide shoulders and muscled thighs were the result of constant sport and manual labor around his vast estate, not the work of fashionably deceptive cotton wadding. His dark hair curled carelessly around the folds of his collar—apparently bucks in London were already trying to imitate said carelessness, with great care.

  Georgie sighed and shook her head. “Unfortunately, the absence of my hair caused such a commotion, then Pia announced she was enceinte, and then it turns out Archie has fallen hopelessly in love with some writer named Selina Ashby, so he spent the entire walk back spilling his poor heart out to me, and well—” She threw up her hands. “There really wasn’t a spare moment.”

  “As bad as all that?” Rushford asked. Whereas Trevor was the picture of a hearty country squire, his best friend, lifelong companion, and lover, James Rushford, was more like a greyhound: whip thin, sinewy, quick-witted, and razor-sharp. He set down the fabric trim he was working on and gave Georgie an assessing look. “You could have left your hat on and avoided the discussion about your hair altogether. It’s a fabulous hat.”

  “You and your damned hats!” she joked.

  Rushford laughed. “Women in London pay spectacular sums for those damned hats of mine, so you’d best keep your opinions to yourself.”

  Georgie flopped on the large sofa next to Trevor, tossing the aforementioned hat to Rushford who caught it with a quick one-handed grab.