Love Comes Blindly (book 5) (The Fielding Brothers Saga)

by Higgins, Marie

  He sat in silence for the longest time before finally squeezing her hands in gratitude. “Sister Mary, you are truly an angel, aren’t you?”

  “No, not really.”

  He hesitated before asking, and when he did it was softly, “Do you really think I can accomplish something as a blind man?”

  “You already have.” Her fingers caressed his in a soft stroke.

  “I have?”

  “Yes. You’ve managed your first meal by yourself without spilling anything.”

  A wide smile broke out on his face and he laughed heartily. “That’s not really a great accomplishment, but thank you for the compliment nonetheless.”

  She leaned forward, still clasping his hands in hers. “I don’t know that much about being blind, and I don’t know what kind of a teacher I’d make, but if you want, I’ll teach you what I do know.”

  “Would you?”

  “Yes. Like I’ve told you before, I helped a few blind people, and so I think I can show you some things.”

  “Thank you.” His heart softened. “I would really appreciate it.”

  “We shall start our lessons tomorrow.” She moved back, releasing his hands.

  He sighed heavily, feeling better about himself. It surprised him how Sister Mary could lift his spirits. He felt as if they’d been friends in another lifetime and that she was here to help him deal with his deformity.

  After a couple minutes of silence, she cleared her throat. “Mr. Fielding, would you like me to arrange a walk for you?”

  He straightened and turned toward her. “A walk, you say?”

  “Yes. If you’d like, I could take you outside in the wheelchair. I thought you might want to be in the fresh air.”

  His heart leapt. Blindly, he reached for her hands again and found them entwined in her lap. He squeezed. “You would do that for me? You don’t know how much I appreciate your help.”

  “Yes, I would do anything to help you. Get your rest tonight, and first thing tomorrow after breakfast, I’ll take you outside for a stroll around the gardens.”

  He grinned. “Mary, you are indeed an angel.”

  “Sister Mary, if you please.”

  “If you say so.”

  As she collected his plate and fork, he thought he heard her chuckle, which made him grin wider.

  “Mr. Fielding, I have to leave now, but I’ll return tomorrow.”

  “I’m counting the minutes.”

  He relaxed against his pillows. What a sweet woman. How old could she be? Her voice still sounded young, so perhaps she was in her early twenties. What would she look like? If she was a nun, she’d wear the black and white habits, which were so unflattering. Then again, those women who took the vow didn’t have a reason to look pleasing to men.

  Nearby, a cot’s bed-ropes creaked again. “Fielding,” Calvin Drake said, “Can I ask you a personal question?”

  “I suppose.”

  “Are you infatuated with that woman? Because of the grin stretching across your mouth, I’d say you are having indecent thoughts about her.”

  Gregg laughed. “It’s that obvious?”

  “You know, Fielding, it never ceases to amaze me that everywhere we go, you find the loveliest woman to bend to your will.”

  “Surely you jest, Lord Calvin. We are in an Abbey with nuns, for heaven’s sake.”

  “Precisely, and you have picked the prettiest maiden to tend your wounds, my good man.”

  Gregg chuckled and shook his head. “Forgive me, but I thought they all looked the same in the black and white habits.”

  “Oh, but you are wrong, Fielding. Sister Mary does not wear the full habit. She’s different than the others. I’m not certain since I’m not of their religion, but I would say she is a novice. She doesn’t cover her hair like the others, but keeps it wound in a tight knot. And of course, she wears plain gowns of brown and gray.”

  “What color is her hair?” Gregg dared ask.

  “A burnt blonde color. And curly.”

  Gregg wanted to sigh aloud, but refrained.

  “She also has the most amazing eyes I’ve ever seen,” Drake continued. “They’re a blue with a touch of green. Almost turquoise, I’d say. Yet sometimes they are more green than blue. Certainly strange…but very lovely.”

  A memory Gregg had thought he’d erased resurfaced, bringing with it painful recollections. The same color of eyes twinkled with passion after he’d made love to Maddie O’Neil. Why had she been able to sneak back into his thoughts after all this time? Surely, there was more than one woman in the world with blue-green eyes. “Sounds to me like you are the one who has been given too much laudanum, Lord Calvin.”

  Drake’s limp thudded closer to Gregg and he patted his shoulder. “You will see again one day, my good friend, and when you do, you will know I speak the truth.”

  “Is she young?” Gregg dared ask.

  “Yes. Early in her twentieth year, if I’ve guessed correctly.”

  Gregg relaxed again in his bed. He couldn’t possibly think Mary treated him any different than she did other patients she’d helped over the years. But deep inside his heart, he wanted to think she might be interested in him, too.

  He groaned and rolled on his side. What a ridiculous notion. She was a nun...or a novice. Why would she think of him in that manner?

  Chapter Three

  The next morning, Mary’s voice was what he looked forward to hearing. So soft—so caring. He didn’t know why her tone could ease his mind, but he wasn’t going to analyze that now. She was the only thing that made him smile since the accident, and he looked forward to smiling now.

  “Good morning, Mr. Fielding.”

  A grin stretched his lips. “Good morning, dear Mary.”

  “Sister—”

  “Forgive me, I meant Sister Mary.”

  She chuckled and sat on the chair next to his cot. “Today I have oatmeal for you. I hope you like oatmeal.”

  “Almost as much as steamed lobster.”

  “Well, considering I enjoy that delicacy, I take it as a good sign.”

  “Indeed, it is.”

  As soon as she placed the warm bowl in his hands and gave him the spoon, he stuffed the food into his mouth like a starved man. The fact was, he could care less about feeding his tummy, instead he wanted breakfast out of the way to spend more time with Mary.

  “Good heavens, Mr. Fielding. You need to slow down before you choke yourself.”

  Once again, he enjoyed the concern laced in her voice. Since his mouth was too full to speak, he just nodded and slowed the movement his hand made from the bowl to his mouth…if only slightly.

  “I’m going to leave for a moment to help deliver these breakfast trays to the others. Will you be all right?”

  He nodded, still not daring to speak for fear of spitting the food at her.

  She laughed as she walked away. He also enjoyed the musical tone of her laugh, he realized.

  Gregg hoped she wasn’t watching him now because he started shoveling the food in his mouth faster again. When he was finished, he felt for the chair she usually sat on next to his bed and placed his bowl and spoon there. Since nothing clattered to the floor, confidence welled inside him, knowing he had accomplished one good thing this morning.

  Anxiously, he waited, counting the minutes until her return. Another nun had come by to take the empty bowl and spoon, mumbling something to him that he didn’t hear. Finally, from down the hall he heard something with a squeaky wheel coming closer to him. Just before it reached his bed, Mary’s scent of roses wafted through the air.

  He inhaled deeply and smiled. “You’re back,” he said with a sigh.

  “Yes, I am. We’ve chosen a beautiful day to walk in the gardens. The sun is shining brightly, and there’s not a cloud in the sky.”

  Her warm hand slipped around his arm and she helped him stand. He wobbled briefly, and then took small steps to the wheelchair. Once he was seated, she placed a blanket over his legs. The motion o
f the chair swayed and jerked him on his way outside, but he knew the minute they’d stepped out of the building.

  The sun’s warm rays warmed his body and a breeze caressed his lips, cheeks, and chin. No air had touched his eyes since the explosion, except for the times the doctor changed his bandages. Each day the physician encouraged Gregg to believe he would see again soon, but his world remained dark and unknowing.

  The only light in his dreary existence was Sister Mary. Heaven help him, but he couldn’t stop thinking of her, and he looked forward to her visits. The scent of roses surrounded him whenever she came near and stayed in his memory long after she left. When she touched him, her skin was so soft, her caress so gentle. She had a sweet, almost seductive voice. What could have made her devote her life to God?

  “We are entering the flower garden, correct?”

  “Yes, Mr. Fielding, we are.”

  He breathed deeply of the flowers surrounding them. Still her scent was lovelier than any bouquet. “Ah, this is what I needed, Mary. Being outdoors brightens my day.”

  “I’m pleased to hear that. And I would like you to call me Sister Mary, if you don’t mind.”

  “What if I do mind?” He grinned.

  She chuckled. “I would still like you to call me that, regardless.”

  As they walked, his curiosity grew, and he just had to know about her life. “Mary...uh, Sister Mary? Do you mind if I ask you a personal question?”

  “I don’t know. How personal is it?”

  “I’m wondering why you are here.

  “Why...why I’m here?”

  There was a slight catch to her voice that made him wary. Perhaps she didn’t want to speak about her life.

  “Yes. Why did you choose God over a normal life?”

  Silence hung in the air, mingling with her deep breaths. She was uncomfortable. Would she open herself to him?

  “Mr. Fielding, I have to admit, this is the first time I’ve been asked this question by a man. Why do you want to know?”

  He shrugged. “My friend tells me you are young. He also mentioned how lovely you are. I can tell you have a sweet voice, and it makes me curious to know why you are not in London during the season trying to find a husband like most women.”

  She sighed. “Would you believe a few years ago I did that very thing? I wasn’t quite old enough to have my coming out ball, but I was definitely looking for a husband.”

  He relaxed in his wheelchair and crossed his arms over his chest. “Tell me more.”

  She stopped. The rustling of her skirts moved from in back of him to the side. It sounded like she sat on something. Perhaps the garden had stone benches like the ones his brother had at his manor.

  “I didn’t have a very happy life,” she began. “I tried to make those around me miserable because I thought I would feel better about myself. Along my path to self-destruction, I hurt many people. I was not a pleasant person, and due to my mistakes, my family shunned me. Becoming a nun had never crossed my mind, but I had nowhere to go. For months I’d wandered sick and hungry until the Reverend Mother found me and brought me in. That is when I realized God had shown me a new path.”

  Pain edged her voice and the sound made his heart clench. Poor woman. She’d been so young, so alone. He reached his hand toward her, and soft fingers circled his and stroked his palm. Heat grew and spread where her skin touched his.

  “But has God indeed shown you the path you’re supposed to follow?”

  “Yes, I believe He has.”

  “What makes you so certain?”

  “I—I—I fear I shouldn’t say anymore.”

  She tried to remove her hand, but Gregg tightened his grip. “No, please go on. I desperately want to know. If anything, I shall be a good listener since that’s all I can really do now.” He chuckled. “So please, tell me.”

  “Well, if you insist.” She took a deep breath and he heard her exhaled it. “After the Reverend Mother took me in, I discovered I—I—” she paused as her voice broke. She cleared her throat and continued, “I discovered I was in the motherly way.”

  He held his breath, waiting to hear more.

  “I gave birth to a daughter, but she wasn’t strong. Two months later, she…she…died in my arms.”

  Her voice cracked, which made his gut twist. To think this young girl had endured all that. “I’m sorry, Mary. I cannot imagine how devastated you were.”

  “Please, Mr. Fielding. Call me Sister Mary.”

  “Again, forgive me.” He really didn’t want to call her Sister. He wanted to think of her as a real woman, not a nun. The tingles racing through his body reminded him how pleasurable a woman’s touch could be. Would he really respond if she were a real nun? He didn’t think so.

  “At first I thought God was punishing me for all the havoc I’d created in my life, but I soon realized all of this was a blessing in disguise. I wouldn’t have been able to live at the Abbey and raise my daughter. An unwed woman with a child cannot have a normal life. If the baby had lived, both of us would have been scorned for the rest of our lives.”

  “What did the baby’s father think of all this?”

  “He didn’t know…and he wouldn’t have cared.” Her voice was low again, and tight. “He hates me...or the person I was then.”

  “Is he married?”

  “No. He was a bachelor—a rouge, to the fullest.”

  Mary sniffed and he squeezed her cold hand. “What did you name your daughter?”

  “Vivian.”

  “What a lovely name.”

  A few more minutes passed in silence. Then Mary took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly. “Let’s not talk about this anymore. It’s quite depressing.”

  She moved to stand, but he grasped her hand and pulled her back down to the bench. “Mary, thank you for telling me. I feel I know you better now.” He rubbed her soft fingers.

  “Maybe I shouldn’t have told you, but I feel like I know you better, as well.”

  He nodded.

  “And Mr. Fielding?”

  “Yes?”

  “Please call me Sister Mary.”

  He grinned. “I know you are not a nun.”

  “But it’s not proper to call me Mary. I would hate to explain this to the other nuns.”

  “Indeed, so I will only call you Mary when we’re alone.” He shook his head and chuckled. “It’s hard to think of you this way. I feel we have become close friends.”

  “We have.”

  “I know you don’t know me, but I can assure you, I have never been friends with nuns, so for me to admit we have this kind of relationship…well, I fear my friends back home would rile me endlessly if they knew.”

  “Then I won’t say a word to anyone. This will be our little secret.”

  “Ah…a secret, eh? Do you enjoy secrets as much as I?”

  “That, I dare not say.”

  He sighed, enjoying their banter. “You know, Mary…I wish... I wish I could see your face. I’ll bet you’re beautiful.”

  Taking both of her hands in his, he pulled her closer. Soft, delicate fingers rested in his palms. He ran the pad of his thumbs across each finger. Slim. He suspected her body would be this way, too. Slowly, he moved his touch to each wrist, which was also small. As he continued up her arms, she stiffened. He waited for her to stop him or pull away, but she did neither.

  He paused again when he reached her shoulders. A slight quiver came from her body. Cautiously, he moved his fingers over her collarbone to her neck. Smooth skin met his fingertips, as did a wild pulse. Her throat moved in what must have been a swallow, and he copied that movement with his own, trying to add moisture back into his suddenly dry mouth.

  Had he been the first man to touch her like this since she studied to become a nun? The thought thrilled him and made him want to keep touching her. Small sighs came from her, and he enjoyed hearing them.

  He continued up her slim neck toward her face. Quick, hot breaths exhaled from her mouth and fanned his skin.
Excitement gushed through him, and his own breathing became ragged. He’d never acted this way by just touching a woman, especially when she was dressed. And to think he didn’t know what she looked like. Yet for some reason, it didn’t matter right now.

  She had a small chin, and when he reached her dry lips, they were parted. He couldn’t stop from sweeping his thumb across her bottom lip. Licking his own parched lips, he continued the exploration and moved his fingers over high cheeks before stroking closed eyelids. Long, thick lashes tickled his skin. When he touched her hair, she let out another sigh, and he nearly joined his voice with hers. Soft, silky, and curly, a lock of hair brushed his fingers.

  He imaged what she looked like, and Lord Calvin was correct. Mary was very lovely.

  He dropped his fingers to her mouth again. This time they were moist. She must have licked her lips. How he wanted to kiss her right now.

  “You are a very beautiful woman, Mary,” he said huskily. “I imagine your eyes are an amazing color, also. Let me see if I can guess.” He paused for only a moment. “Green...no, they’re blue. Perhaps they are both—turquoise.” Her gasp made him smile.

  “How did you know?”

  “I’ll confess. My friend, Lord Calvin, told me.”

  She took his hands from her face and pushed them away. “I need to get you back to your bed now. Afternoon prayer time will be starting soon, and then I will have to help prepare the mid-day meal.”

  Her voice wasn’t sensual any longer. Instead, it was edged with panic. Had he disturbed her as much she disrupted his thoughts?

  She moved around him and pushed his wheelchair. By her hurried steps, he knew that he’d upset her. His heart ached. That was the last thing he wanted to do.

  “Mary?”

  “Sister Mary, please.”

  He scowled. She really didn’t sound like a nun. She didn’t smell like a nun, and she didn’t sigh like one, either.

  “What do you want, Mr. Fielding?”

  “I want you to call me Gregg.”

  Her long pause made him hold his breath.

  “If you wish,” she said.

  “I do. I also want to tell you I’m sorry.”