And Nora and Samuel.
He wondered if the boy was all right. He had been quiet for the entire ride back to Stryden Place, saying little more since reuniting with his mother. Nathan was fairly certain the boy had not been abused in anyway nor had he been threatened. But Nathan still understood that kidnapping was a trauma within itself. It would probably take a bit of time for the boy to come fully around.
But why that led to Nora entering his chambers without so much as a by your leave, he could not fathom.
"Yes, I did throw him out of a window, and I do believe there was a pile of garbage beneath said window. Is that all, madam?"
Nora frowned.
"Do not dismiss me so easily, Nathan. Samuel is calling the entire night quite an adventure, but I do not see how a kidnapping can be deemed an adventure. What else did you do to my son that he is not telling me?"
Now Nathan did smile even though it was clear that Nora was concerned.
"He is calling it an adventure? I feel it necessary to warn you that he may be excellent spy material."
Nora frowned harder.
"Do not tease me, Nathan. Was Samuel all right when you found him?"
Nathan tried pressing his legs tighter together as water sloshed around him in the tub.
"He seemed quite all right. And Alec found him initially. Alec said he seemed quite aware for a nine year old, but that he seemed fine despite what was happening to him."
Nora's face began to relax, and her fisted hands, which had been resting at her hips, slowly slid down her body.
"Very well," she said almost in a murmur, and she began to turn as if to go, but something stopped her.
"If Samuel was fine, whatever happened to you?"
Nathan wanted to see just how far down in the tub he could get.
"There was an altercation," he said.
Nora raised a questioning eyebrow. "Altercation?'
Nathan nodded.
"What was the cause of such an altercation?"
"I showed respect to the wrong woman."
"Interesting," was all Nora said before she pointed a finger at him. "Are you almost done there?"
Nathan looked down at his increasingly uncomfortable essentials.
"Perhaps," he said.
"Very well. I shall return momentarily."
He almost came up out of the tub.
"I beg your pardon?" he said.
The very last thing he needed that evening was to have Elenora Quinton in his rooms in the middle of the night. The whole situation smacked of impropriety and that only led him to want it more.
"You will need someone to apply witch hazel to those bruises. You do not expect to do so yourself, do you? You are not in any condition to be administering aid to your person."
That may have been true, but Nathan could think of many other persons who would be better suited at that moment. Such as Napoleon himself.
"I suppose so," Nathan finally said.
"Good. Get out of that tub and dry off. I shall return," she said as she left the chamber, closing the door softly behind her with a subtle, authoritative click.
~
She could do this. She could. Really.
But she had not been shaking before like she was now. Before when she had brazenly entered Nathan's chambers in Lofton's home to demand an explanation as to why her son smelled of garbage. And it was only then that she realized she had received no explanation beyond admittance to the truth and a declaration of having had quite an adventure. Much the same line Samuel had delivered. Nora frowned wondering if the two were in cahoots.
But now, she shook, honestly and truly. How was she going to be able to put the witch hazel cream on his face without poking him in the eye or something?
And really, what had propelled her to offer such assistance in the first place? It was a natural reaction she knew, to take action when action was needed. And Nathan obviously needed assistance. But why had she been the one to offer? She was the guest in a duke's home, and it was nearly the middle of the night if not creeping into the early morning, and she was traipsing about like a trollop instead of heeding the rules of polite society. She should never have gone into Nathan's room, but Samuel's gleeful proclamation of being tossed in the garbage had riled her motherly instincts enough to hang propriety and its rules. She had marched into Nathan's room, heedless of the fact that he was likely bathing and indeed, was, and demanded to know something. But offering to apply witch hazel to his bruises was a step too far even for her. Or especially for her.
Nora was getting flustered.
She checked on Samuel, sleeping like the dead in the middle of the gigantic bed that took up almost half of their bedchamber. Their bedchamber was conveniently located just down the hall from Nathan's, and Nora wondered not for the first time if Jane had done that on purpose. Jane had offered them separate bedchambers at first, but Nora would not sleep in a different room from her son that night. Not when she had just gotten him back. And now he slept. Red satin covers were pulled up to his chin with one arm thrown over his head, the other flung out at his side.
Nora paced the bedroom, stalling. The tub of witch hazel a maid had left on the night stand for Samuel's bruises went from one hand to the other. How long did it take for one to get dried off and decent? Had she waited long enough? Had she waited too long?
She stepped forward, grabbed the knob, and tripped through the door into the hallway.
The house was silent. Eerily so. But Nora kept her back straight and carefully shut the door on her sleeping son. She moved carefully down the carpeted hall, her slippered feet silent as she moved. The skirts of her borrowed gown barely swished in the stillness. She reached Nathan's door and knocked lightly, not wanting to wake the house. He responded with an equally modest Enter, and Nora went inside Nathan's rooms in the middle of the night in a house in which she did not live.
Nathan stood by the fire, a slightly worn silk dressing gown flickering in the light. He turned when she came in, and she had to swallow. He looked terrible, but somehow he still made her stomach turn over.
Pulling her shoulders back, she marched over to him.
"Sit." She pointed to the wingback in front of the fire.
He raised an eyebrow at her. "Is that going to hurt?"
She giggled and covered her mouth with her hand.
Nathan reached up and drew her hand away.
"Don't. I like to see you laugh."
Nora blushed and had to look at her feet. At this rate, she was never going to finish what she had started. She was going to melt into a puddle at his feet.
Nathan released her hand, sat down and waited. She unscrewed the lid of the jar and set it aside. Dipping her fingers into the cream, she studied it scrupulously, so she would not have to look at him. This was ridiculous. She set the jar aside too, and with two fingers covered in cream, she attacked his face.
The worst of the bruising was along his jaw and one of his eyes. The swelling had not gotten too bad. It was puffy and tender, but he could still see out of it. She carefully smeared the cream over it, willing her fingers not to shake.
She stood back and surveyed her work.
"There. I think that will help."
"Good," Nathan said. And then he grabbed her.
She was in his lap with his lips bruising hers before she realized what he had done. But thinking about what he had done was nowhere near as enjoyable as thinking about what he was doing.
She was on fire.
That was the only thing she could think. His lips seared hers, his hands pulled her closer, tearing at the fabric that stood between her and him. Then his lips nudged hers open, and his tongue dipped into her mouth. She heard someone moan and thought it was very likely her. She did not want to be the only one moaning.
She lifted her hands and speared them through his hair, running her nails along the skin at his neck and along his shoulders. And then he did moan, and she would have smiled, but her mouth was busy.
; She became aware of a hand on her leg, underneath her skirt, working on the tie of her stocking. She broke her mouth away.
"It's double knotted," she said, and reached over batting his hand away. She tugged on just the right strand, and the bow came loose, her stocking sliding down her leg.
"Thank you," he said, plunging his hand down the length of the stocking and drawing it and her slipper away.
"You are quite welcome." And then she pulled his mouth back to hers.
But there was no way she was going to let him touch bare skin when she could not. She ran a hand up the part in his robe, feeling the crispness of the hair that sprinkled his chest, shocked at the sensation, at the fact that this was happening. She kept going, running her fingers under the silk and pushing it away from his shoulder.
And it was when she touched his bare skin that she realized what was happening, realized it and did not believe it.
The bodice of her gown suddenly felt looser but not quite loose enough. She sat up.
"There is a catch," she said, dragging her mouth once again from Nathan's.
She reached over her head and slipped the hook from the eye at the neckline of the gown.
Nathan tore the bodice away and plundered. His mouth blazed kisses along her exposed shoulder, slipping the strap of her shift away from her collarbone, so he could devour that, too. Nora's head fell back as she was no longer able to hold it up. He placed kisses along the lacy edge of the shift but never strayed any lower. And his hands remained on the bunched fabric of her bodice, never touching her where she longed to be touched.
Finally it got to be too much, and she snapped her head up.
"Nathan, please."
She grabbed his hand and placed it directly on her breast and reeled when Nathan's face turned white as the blood drained from it. And then his hand squeezed, and all thought fled.
She tore at his robe now, dragging both arms out from it and letting it slip down to his waist. She ran her hands down the smooth, tight skin of his back as Nathan's lips finally dared to go lower. Her shift was hanging off of her shoulders now, so she lifted her arms out of the straps and let the material fall away.
Nathan sat up, moving his hands away from her.
"Nora, I do not want to-"
"I know, Nathan." She touched the part of his face that was not bruised. "I know, but I want you to. I want to know how good it feels before I remember how bad it felt. Please, Nathan."
He swallowed, and Nora watched the movement, pleading with her eyes.
And then Nathan nodded. He lifted her, and Nora grabbed at his shoulders to hang on. She felt his robe dislodge and fall away, a slight little thrill passing through her at the thought that he was completely and totally naked. Nathan laid her on the rug before the fire, pulling down some cushions from the sofa and pushing them under her head.
"All right?" he asked.
Nora could see the tension in Nathan's face, and she smiled, as warmly and as brightly as she ever had. Nathan slowly smiled back at her. She opened her arms, and he came into them.
He did not crush her. He kept his weight a delicious presence somewhere above her. He pulled at the remainder of her clothing, taking less care not to frighten her, which made her tingle even more. And then he was kissing her again, but with tenderness, and not the jarring emotion of just moments before. His hands were everywhere, sweeping down her sides and back up. And then his mouth was dipping lower, to her collarbone, lower, finally to the underside of her breast. She bucked beneath him, surprised that her hips moved without her knowing they would or could. She felt Nathan's smile against her tender flesh just before he drew her nipple into his mouth. She clawed at his back, pressing him closer.
But he was moving again before she could savor what he had done. He was above her, sweeping the hair from the sides of her face.
"Nora, I want to be sure. I want you to be sure. You really want to do this."
There was pain in his eyes, pain of uncertainty, pain of longing, and Nora brought her hands up to his face, mimicking his touch.
"Yes, I am sure. I want to do this with you."
The thought would have startled her had she known she had been thinking it all along, but there in that moment, it just seemed right. It just seemed like destiny that she was lying there in Nathan's arms.
Nathan groaned and kissed her, before going back to first one breast and then the other. Nora squirmed beneath him, and Nathan chuckled. The sound fluttered over her stomach, making her giggle.
Nora brought her legs up, running the heel of her foot along his calf, felt the muscles ripple in response.
Nathan was doing something to her neck, that spot just behind her ear. And then he was in front of her again, framing her face with his hands.
"Are you still all right?"
Nora nodded because she could not speak.
"All right. Um, I am going to-"
Nora nodded, cutting him off. Her stomach had stopped fluttering, and the first icy fingers of fear were started to creep out. She grabbed Nathan's face and kissed him, kissed him with all she had in her. He broke off the contact, moving his lips to her ear.
"It's all right," he whispered. "It's all right."
And then she felt another part of him, pushing at her. She remembered something else pushing at her.
"Nathan," she whimpered. "Hurry."
Nathan kissed her and pushed all the way into her.
She was on the floor. It was hard against her back. The side of her face that he had struck was numb. He ripped at her pants. She fought him as instinct rebounded. Her fingers bled from scratching at him. Her head pounded. He struck her again. Her hands fell away, her strength to hold them up gone. He was pushing at her. She pleaded with him to stop. He laughed at her. The sound ricocheted in her head. Sensation was blissfully fading. He tore her from the inside.
"Nathan," she gasped, surfacing sharply.
"That's it, Nora. Open your eyes. Look at me."
Nathan was above her, brushing away the tears that she did not know stained her cheeks.
"It's me, Nora. Nathan. You are safe. I am not hurting you."
"Oh, Nathan."
Nathan was no longer inside of her. She felt that almost instantly. There was a quilt covering her, wrapped tightly around her body, and Nathan had his robe on again. She felt cold.
"Oh, Nathan, I am sorry. I am so, so sorry," she whimpered as if she were a lost little girl.
Nathan bent his head, shushing her, and softly kissing her lips.
"This is not your fault," he said.
Nora struggled with the quilt and pulled her arms out, wrapping them around Nathan and drawing him closer. She held on as Nathan lay on his back pulling her against his side.
He held her until the tears finally stopped. And although he had not said a word, she could feel the tension in him. She could feel his reluctance to let her suffer the hurt in her memories. She felt his helplessness in the way his arms remained stiff around her. She recalled the dark look that sometimes crossed his features, his own pain, and she wanted him to know that this was not his fault. That this was something she would need to conquer.
"I was nineteen," she finally said, "Head of the upstairs maids." She cleared her throat. "I was putting out the new set of towels for each of the guests in the east wing. I did not know he was in the dressing room."
She listened for a moment to Nathan's heartbeat below her ear before going on.
"He locked the door and put the key in his pocket. He was smiling, a cruel, mean smile. He struck me once across the face, and I fell. I never got back up."
Her voice got stuck as her throat closed. Nathan's arms tightened around her, but the stiffness remained.
"He pushed up my skirts and ripped my pants. I scratched at his face until I drew blood, but he just struck me again. I do not remember much after that. There was just a lot of pain." She swallowed. "And then Michael, the stableman, was shaking me awake. The floor was covered in blood. My blood
. And my first thought was I had to get it cleaned up quickly."
Her voice disappeared then, so she just stopped talking.
The fire crackled in the hearth beyond them. She watched the flames shorten and grow. She rubbed her cheek against Nathan's chest, liking the scrape of skin against skin. But still his embrace was tight with a pain she could not name.
"Who was he, Nora?" Nathan asked after a while.
"No, Nathan," she shook her head against him, "I will not tell you more. This is a burden you needn't carry."
"Who was it, Nora?" he asked again, an edge she had never heard in his voice before.
She leaned up on her elbow to look him in the face. The darkness was there, and she suddenly grew tired of not knowing what caused his pain.
"No, Nathan. It does not matter who he was. He's a horrible human being, and that is punishment enough. I do not care what he did to me, because I got Samuel. And now-" Her voice was disappearing on her again, but she pushed it out. "And now I have you."
Nathan nodded. "Yes, you have me."
She leaned down and gently touched his lips with hers.
"Then I have everything I need. Except-"
Nathan's expression remained dark even as she went on.
"What is this about?" she said, drawing her hand down the side of his face. "Sometimes there is such sadness in you, and I do not know why."
Nathan made a move as if to get up, and Nora stopped him, her hand firmly on his chest.
"I told you my pain. Now you must tell me yours," she said, refusing to let him slip away from her, "It is only fair."
Nathan's head relaxed against the floor as his eyes drifted to the ceiling. When she thought he would simply ignore her for the rest of the night, he finally spoke.
"Jane," he said, and Nora waited knowing there must be more. "Jane's first husband was..." his voice trailed off, but Nora knew enough to finish the sentence for him.
"Jane's first husband abused her," she said.
Nathan brought his gaze back to hers, the darkness suddenly receding from his gaze.
"You know?" he asked, and Nora nodded.
"She told me once. It was one of the times she told me stories of you as a little boy, and how grateful she always was that Richard came into her life. She loves you and Alec very much, Nathan."
Son of a Duke Page 17