by Joanna Shupe
“There are two of us, and you have but one remaining shot. Do not be stupid.”
How Nick remained calm boggled Julia’s mind. Panic coursed through her, down to the very tips of her toes. Regardless, she had to do something. She would not allow Nick to be killed. A bit farther to the side and she was able to touch the cool ivory handle of the pistol.
With the gun now in her hand, she stood and moved to Nick’s side. She aimed the weapon at the other woman and cocked the hammer with her free hand. “Lower the gun, or I will shoot you.”
“Have you ever fired a gun, you stupid cow?” Angela sneered. “I’m a crack shot. You don’t stand a chance. But perhaps I’ll merely shoot you first.”
Her eyes burning with an unholy light, Angela adjusted her aim right at Julia’s chest.
It seemed to all happen at once. Angela and Julia both fired their pistols at the same time, the harsh sound exploding in the small space. She heard a shout—Nick’s—half an instant before he threw himself in front of her.
As Nick fell to the ground at her feet, Julia barely registered the fact Angela had collapsed as well. Nick—had he been shot? She dropped to her knees, not daring to breathe. No. Please, no.
She rolled him gently and saw the red stain on his shoulder. “Nick! Oh God, you’re hurt.”
His eyes fluttered. “I’m fine. Help me stand.”
“No, don’t move.” She nudged him back down when he tried to get up.
“Julia, be reasonable. I have to see that Angela is dead and help get Fitz back to the Hall.” Though his jaw tightened in pain, she knew that stubborn look in his eyes.
“Fine. But if you bleed out and die on our way back to the Hall, I’ll never forgive you.”
A small smile twisted his lips. “I would expect nothing less, wife.”
Chapter Seventeen
From time to time, a man may think to make decisions for you. It is our duty to dissuade them of this illusion.
—Miss Pearl Kelly to the Duchess of Colton
“What are you doing out of bed?” Julia gripped the doorframe, watching as her husband struggled to dress himself with one arm.
While Nick’s wound hadn’t been serious, the doctor had recommended rest in order to reduce the chance of fever. So far, he’d stayed in bed for a total of twenty minutes.
She closed the door behind her. “Nick, it’s obvious you are in pain. The doctor said you should rest.”
He continued to wrestle with his cravat, trying to knot it with one hand. “I need to see Fitz.”
Julia took pity on him and strode forward to help. She pushed his hands out of the way and began tying the white linen. “I already told you. The bullet shattered his rib and he suffered a concussion when he hit the floor. Other than pain when he breathes, your friend will be fine. At least he will be because he is still abed, following the doctor’s orders, unlike the other men in the house with bullet wounds.”
She tried not to look at the bare skin of his throat or the silky black hair of his chest so close to her fingertips. Being this near to him had her pulse racing. If she tilted her head up, would he kiss her? The idea made her gown suddenly feel too tight.
“I should think you’d be glad to be rid of me,” he murmured as she finished.
Surprised, her eyes snapped to his, only for him to glance away. Did he really believe such a thing? Of course he did. There’d be no reason for him to assume she’d changed her mind. There was much to say, so many things he needed to know, but her tongue felt thick and awkward. “Nick, I—”
A knock sounded at the door. “Enter,” the duke barked.
Thorton appeared. “Your Grace, the constable is below and wishes to speak with you. Shall I send a footman up to assist you with your clothing?”
“No, I’ll manage. Tell the constable I’ll be down directly.”
The butler nodded and disappeared. Nick began stuffing his long, crisp linen shirt into his trousers with his good hand. “Help me with the waistcoat, will you?”
Julia held out the blue waistcoat he’d selected from the wardrobe, and he shrugged it on slowly, favoring his injured shoulder. He turned and Julia did the buttons. She tried not to think about the hard planes of his abdomen directly under her fingertips . . . how she’d kissed his flat stomach in Venice before working farther down—
“Thank you.” He reached for his topcoat and after she helped him into it, he began to walk away.
“I do not wish to be rid of you,” she blurted before he could get to the door. He stopped but did not turn around. She continued. “I sat, terrified, for hours while thinking Templeton would shoot you. And then when Angela did shoot you—” Her voice broke and she took a deep breath. “I need you, Nick. If you’d been killed today, I do not know how I would’ve survived it.”
He didn’t move, merely stared at the wall, his posture stiff. “You would find a way. You’ve done quite well all these years without me. I daresay you’ll be fine no matter what happens.”
“How could you possibly think that? I cannot contemplate a future without you.”
“I do not know why, when I’ve failed you in every way imaginable.”
She blinked. Failed her? “I think you are woozy from the loss of blood. You are not making sense.”
He faced her, his injured arm tucked against his side. “Because of me, you were kidnapped and nearly killed today. How could you live with the man responsible for that?”
“What happened was not your fault, Nick. Angela had gone barking mad.”
“Nevertheless, you’ve suffered enough for my stupidity.” He shook his head and dragged his good hand through his hair. “I knew Angela to be a bit cracked, yet I did nothing to prevent her presence in this house. I allowed her to cozy up to you; meanwhile she and Templeton were scheming to rid you of Olivia. It is unforgivable.”
“Maybe so, but I don’t blame you for what she—”
“It does not matter because I blame myself! I lost ten years off my life racing to that cottage, knowing someone had hurt you. And to watch Angela turn and fire on you . . . I’ll relive that moment in my nightmares for the rest of my days.”
She’d never seen Nick so distraught, so pale and shaky. The events of the day had clearly rattled him. She had to make him see reason, to make him understand it wasn’t entirely his fault. “Angela duped both of us, Nick. And I was foolish enough to walk to the dower house alone. If I’d taken someone with me, this whole thing might have been avoided.”
“Or someone else may have been harmed.” He slid his hand to the back of his neck and squeezed. “And it’s more than Angela, as you very well know. Can you honestly tell me that you can forgive me, can forget all I have said and done? I cannot see how that is possible, or how we could build a life together after so much hurt and mistrust.”
Hadn’t she recently been pondering those very questions? There was no easy answer, other than they must get past it because the alternative was not to be borne. “I share the blame for all that’s happened between us. I came to Venice to seduce you, to get with child—even after learning your wishes on the subject. And then—”
“Do not try and make excuses for me, Julia. I do not deserve it.”
“Have you forgiven me for my duplicity, then? For what I did to you?”
“I forgave you months ago, only I wouldn’t admit it. The truth is that tricking me would not have been necessary had I not washed my hands of my responsibilities. You have my sincerest apologies for all you’ve been through.”
“Nick, please—”
“No, let me say this. When I look at you, I see such beautiful innocence—only to remember how I’ve tarnished it. God, I deflowered you in a chair!” Nick shook his head, pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’ll never be able to make it up to you, to feel as if I’ve atoned for the hurt I’ve caused. I’ve been the worst kind of husband—God knows you’d be better off with any man other than me. I’ve ignored you, treated you shamefully, and said and done all manner
of unforgivable things to you.”
Julia knew this was not merely about her virginity. “You have not tarnished me. Our week in Venice . . . I’ll never regret it. How could I, when it was the most wondrous, amazing, beautiful experience of my life?”
He closed his eyes briefly then turned away. “I am not what you need, Julia. I cannot be a proper husband. In fact, I wouldn’t know where to even begin. And after today, that should be glaringly apparent.”
Quite the opposite, she realized. Today, he’d proven exactly what kind of husband he’d be: brave, caring, and protective. She crossed the floor to stand before him and stroked his whisker-roughened jaw with her fingers. “But you saved me. Do not forget that part, husband.”
He leaned in to her touch for a brief instant, then pulled away. “A fact that does not change anything, nor does it change who I am. I cannot be what you need—a proper society husband who asks for permission before entering his wife’s bedchamber to touch her in the dark. The title, this house . . . they were never meant for me. And I never wanted any of it. Trying to become the husband you deserve will only serve to turn us both miserable, Julia.”
Her mind spun. This was much worse than she originally feared. He truly believed himself unworthy of everything he’d been given—including her. “I deserve a husband here with me, by my side. That husband is you, Nick. I do not want anyone else.”
He walked around her, farther into the room. “You don’t know what you are saying. I was broken a long time ago and any hope of leading a normal life has long eluded me. Winchester has accused me many times of being selfish, of only thinking of myself. Well, I learned to be selfish because there’s never been anyone else to give a damn. I cannot change, and it is better if I do not stay.”
“You can change. You have changed. Would a selfish man have raced to save his wife from kidnappers? Would a selfish man have thrown himself in front of a bullet meant for someone else? Would a selfish man spend his nights rocking his daughter in his arms, telling her stories instead of sleeping?”
His eyes widened. “You knew?”
“I knew. And a man who would do those things is more than good enough for me.”
He said nothing and his expression, bleaker than she’d ever seen it, seemed to grow even more desolate. How could this be possible? She’d finally realized she loved him and he was slipping away, unwilling to fight for a future together. Did he not feel anything for her, anything at all?
She did not want anyone else. Nick was certainly not perfect, but neither was she. And, deep down, he was a good man. She knew it with certainty, had seen many examples of it—including earlier today. There would be no other man for her. Ever.
Her stomach clenching, she felt true fear for the second time that day. Did he really hate himself that much, feel so unworthy of genuine love and affection that he refused to even try? He’d walked away from his life eight years ago, unable to come to terms with himself and his past, and it seemed he was determined to escape once more.
“Please, Nick. We can put this behind us and move on. Ours would not be the first marriage started on such rocky ground.”
He pressed his lips together in a stubborn expression she recognized. “I cannot see how it’s possible.”
“Why not?” Anger and sadness, frustration and disappointment all warred within her, and she could scarcely reason which emotion to voice first. “Can you not accept that I want you?” It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him she loved him, but something held her back. Perhaps the fear over what he’d said, the fear the sentiment would not be returned.
He moved to the window, leaned his good arm against the panes, and gazed down at the gardens for a moment. “You never even answered my question,” he said quietly, his voice thick with emotion. “Which is an answer unto itself, don’t you think? I’ll never be able to forget what I’ve done and you’ll never be able to forgive me for it.”
Julia opened her mouth to deny it . . . but couldn’t get the words past her lips. Had she forgiven him? She didn’t want to lose him, certainly, but could she honestly say she’d absolved him of his hurtful words and deeds since returning from Venice?
When she hesitated, he pushed off the window and went to the door. “So what happens now?” she choked out.
He paused with his hand on the latch. “I leave.” Then he opened the door and disappeared.
The next morning, Julia lay in bed, exhausted. She’d spent the night tossing and turning until the purple wisps of dawn broke out across the sky. Nick was leaving. His mind had been made up, his self-loathing and fear too strong for Julia to overcome.
After Meg had delivered her morning chocolate, Mrs. Larkman brought Olivia down for a bit. Holding her daughter only served to remind Julia of Colton’s decision not to be a part of her life. Did that extend to Olivia as well? The idea of their daughter growing up without a father broke Julia’s heart all over again. Yes, when the idea to have Colton’s child first took root, she had assumed to be the sole parent in her husband’s absence. But Colton had seen their daughter, held her in his arms. How could he not want to watch her grow?
Theo arrived and found Julia on the brink of tears. “Oh, heavens—whatever is wrong?” She strode to the bell pull, giving it a firm tug.
Mrs. Larkman was sent for and Olivia returned to the nursery. Theo then sat on the bed and reached to clasp Julia’s hand. “Now, my dear. What is the matter?”
Julia took a shuddering breath. “I apologize. I cannot seem to stop crying.”
“Is it Colton?” When Julia nodded, Theo sighed. “I suspected as much. From what Thorton tells me, he’s been locked away in the study since last evening. So what happened?”
“I told him I needed him, that I wanted a future together. Almost losing him yesterday nearly scared the life out of me. I love him, Theo.” The tears she’d been trying to hold back slid down her cheeks.
“And what did Colton say to this revelation, I’m afraid to ask?”
Julia related the conversation for Theo, of Nick’s insistence he could never be the husband she needed. Theo clucked and shook her head. “If his mother were still alive, I would give her a good tongue-lashing over the way she raised that boy. There is no cause for a mother to be so cruel, even if the child was not conceived under ideal conditions.”
“What do you mean, not ideal conditions?”
“Did Angela not tell you? She suspected, based on conversations with the dowager duchess, that Colton’s father forced himself on his wife when she refused him. When your husband resulted from the encounter, the duchess could never forgive or forget what had been done and took her anger out on the boy.”
Julia gasped. “How terrible! I wonder if Colton knows.”
“If he doesn’t, he should be told. It could go quite a long way to helping him understand that her lack of motherly devotion was not his fault, but hers.”
Julia made a mental note to tell Nick of this new information—if she got the chance. “What am I to do, Theo? I know he cares for me. How can I prove how much I love him? I want to get back what we had in Venice.”
“How far are you willing to go to convince your husband to stay?”
“I’ll do whatever is necessary. I want to fight for him, but I do not know how.”
Theo smiled. “Then leave it to me. I know precisely what you must do.”
Nick watched Fitz’s chest rise and fall. Fitz’s breathing was even and deep, and the doctor had assured Nick his friend would recover.
Even still, guilt threatened to choke him. Fitz and Julia had nearly been killed because of Nick’s stupidity. How could he not have seen the madness within Angela? He’d learned eight years ago that she would lie and scheme to get whatever she wanted. So why did he not do anything to stop her then?
Nothing had gone as planned since he’d returned to England. He’d made a complete hash of it, not thinking clearly. First he’d been consumed with fury at Winchester and Julia, and then he’d been blinded by an
unshakable lust for his wife. And even now, after Olivia’s birth, peace and happiness continued to elude him.
Mayhap it would always elude him here, where the memories and heartache were too powerful. The farther away from England he went, the better. Julia deserved more than the life she’d had thrust upon her, with a husband who could never be what she needed. Divorce was not a possibility, but he could at least give her a measure of freedom by returning to his life abroad.
God, he loved her so much, his teeth ached. He longed for his wife in a way he’d never experienced with any other woman, and to be near her and not have her was unimaginable torture. Distance would benefit them both, in his opinion.
Fitz snorted in his sleep and shifted, regaining Nick’s attention. Though Nick would resume his travels, Fitz would not join him this time. His friend was in love with Lady Carville and Nick would not dare deny Fitz a minute of happiness with the woman. Besides, now that Angela had claimed responsibility for the attacks over the years, Nick hardly needed a bodyguard. No, he would go alone. Tomorrow, before Fitz had fully recovered. Before Fitz could try and talk him out of it.
Nick sighed and rubbed his eyes with his good hand. Hell, he was tired. Last night had been awful. The day’s events combined with Julia’s revelations about her feelings ensured he hadn’t slept a wink. Even visiting Olivia in the early hours of the morning hadn’t bolstered his spirits. It had only depressed him more, had him wishing for things that he could never have.
The door creaked open and Lady Carville stepped in. “Is he awake yet?”
He stood. “Still asleep, I’m afraid. Is this usual? Should he be sleeping this long?”
“Sleep is the best thing for him, Your Grace,” she assured him. “I woke him every few hours last night because of the head injury. It’s likely he will sleep the rest of the day away.”
Lady Carville smiled at Fitz, love shining unabashedly in her eyes. Sensing the need for privacy, Nick started for the door. “Will you fetch me if he awakens? I need to thank him.”