“I was wounded, you see. You came back without your arm, and I came back without part of my mind.”
“You mean, you don’t remember nuthin’?”
“Nothing at all.”
Mathers seemed to ponder that revelation. “I’d heard you took a cannonball to the head.”
“Not sure if I’d still have my head if that was the case, but something happened.”
“If you don’t mind me saying so, sir, it might not feel like it, but it’s a blessing. It was awful out there, sir. Awful. I hear there’s nearly five thousand buried in the cemetery near the hospitals in Scutari.”
“Five thousand,” Stephen whispered. How had he forgotten something that had to have been horrendous? “They’re expecting peace any day now.”
“Yes, sir. I pray for it.” He shook his head. “We were so bloody cocky when we marched off. Held our own, though, sir. But, God help us. What a price.”
Again they fell into silence as though the words that needed to be said were too heavy. Finally, Stephen asked, “Tell me, Mathers, do you remember a nurse, a nurse named Mercy?”
Mathers shook his head. “Sorry, sir. Can’t say as I do, but then I weren’t nearly as familiar with the nurses as you were. I remember there was always at least one at your bedside.”
“But I’m interested in one in particular. Mercy,” Stephen insisted. “Mercy Dawson.”
Mathers grinned. “Miss Dawson. Yes, sir. Remember her well. An angel she was. If I may say so, she worked as tirelessly as Miss Nightingale. Many a night I heard her praying over a lost soul. Shame what happened to her that bloody night. Can’t believe she didn’t leave straightaway, but she was there the next time I was wounded. Held my hand when they took my bloody arm.”
Stephen felt an uneasiness that he couldn’t explain. He didn’t want to think about what Mathers had suffered. He was a big brute of a man who’d not welcome sympathy. But something else he’d mentioned had Stephen breaking out in a cold sweat. “What happened to her, Mathers?”
“She was attacked, sir. Fortunate for her that we got there when we did, you and me, although I’m a-betting she was a-wishing we’d gotten there before the first blackguard was finished with her and the second was queuing up.”
Stephen’s stomach roiled. Mathers couldn’t be implying what Stephen thought he was. Mercy had told him that he’d arrived there in time. He’d saved her. Were they lining up to hit her? No, you damned fool, they wouldn’t line up for that. They’d only line up if what they were doing allowed only one man at a time—
God, he thought he was going to be ill. He took another chance, praying that this time he wasn’t wrong. “We gave them a sound beating, didn’t we, Mathers?”
“We did, sir. Especially the first blighter. Thought you were going to kill him. Maybe you did. He didn’t leave the field following the next battle. But then neither did the other two. I made damned sure one of them didn’t. Either you or the Russians took care of the third. My money was always on you.” He leaned back, blew out a quick breath. “Whew! I never before confessed to what I done. It’s a bit of a relief to have it off my chest.”
Mathers looked at him expectantly, as though he wanted a reciprocated confession.
“Sorry, man. As I said, I don’t remember … any of it. But I’ve no doubt that what you did was the right thing to do. And I hope I had your courage to see justice done.”
Mathers nodded and stared into his tankard. Then he tossed back what remained and ordered another.
After it arrived, Stephen asked, “What of Miss Whisenhunt? Did you know her?”
Mathers scratched his jaw. “Yeah, she was a real beauty, but she weren’t as caring as Miss Dawson. It always seemed like she thought of everything as a chore. I know it was work, all of it, everything they did. None of it was fun. But Miss Dawson always made it seem as though she was glad to be able to do something to ease a man’s suffering. Always smiling with a gentleness in her eyes that reminded a man of home, reminded him why he was fighting. I think many a soldier fell in love with her, sir. I wonder what happened to her.”
“She had the misfortune of becoming my wife.”
“Where the devil is she?”
Startled from her relaxing pose on the fainting couch, her bare feet in Leo’s lap where they were receiving his devoted attention, his mother glared at Stephen standing in the doorway. “Good evening to you as well. I daresay you look like hell.”
“Where is she?” he repeated, in no mood to suffer through her taunting.
She must have realized it because she answered quickly, “The blue bedchamber.”
He rushed up the stairs, taking the steps two at a time, the length of his stride torturing his leg, but he ignored it. When he arrived at the correct bedchamber, he threw open the door with such force that it banged against the wall.
Mercy leaped up from the chair by the window where she’d been reading, the book falling to the floor with a soft thud. He could see her trembling in the white linen nightdress, her bare toes curling into the carpet. He saw the moment she regained her composure and straightened her backbone. She’d not be cowed by him. He couldn’t see her being cowed by anyone.
He imagined some brute lifting her hem, spreading those sweet thighs—
“You lied to me about not lying to me.” He took a step closer, and she held her ground. Brave, courageous Mercy. She’d been there to help the soldiers, to ease their suffering. If the men who’d attacked her weren’t already dead, he’d tear them apart with his bare hands. He’d never felt so barbaric. Was this what he’d learned on the battlefield? “You told me I got there in time to stop them, in time to save you. I didn’t.”
She went as pale as snow and quivered as though she’d just been dunked in an icy river. Tears spilled onto her cheeks. Reaching behind her, she grabbed onto the back of the chair, needing something to support her. Any other woman who looked on the verge of collapse would have succumbed to her body’s need. But not her. Somehow she found the strength to continue standing, just as she’d found the strength to return to the hospital, to care for the men. Courageous Mercy. His Mercy.
“Tell me you don’t remember. Please, dear God, tell me you don’t remember my shame and humiliation.”
“I don’t. Not a single second of what happened to you. But it was not your shame and humiliation, Mercy. It was theirs. For God’s sake, why didn’t you tell me?”
“Why would I? For the love of all that is holy, why would I want you to remember such an ugly, ugly …”
Tears rained down her face. She sank onto the chair and buried her face in her hands, her shoulders quaking with the force of her sobs. He wanted to touch her, to comfort her, but he’d sacrificed that right. He’d doubted her, and in so doing he’d doubted all that was virtuous. He’d hoped war had turned him into a better man, but it was her, everything he knew about her that called to him to be a finer person than he’d ever thought himself capable of being.
“If you hadn’t held me afterward, touched me so tenderly, comforted me, I’m not sure I would have ever been able to stand the touch of another person.” She lifted dew-filled eyes. “Nothing happened beyond that. Between you and I. A little touching, gentle caresses. On my face and my hands. Here.” She touched just below her collarbone. “Where the first one tore at my bodice and gouged me. You kissed it. You murmured such sweet words. We only had until dawn. But you never left my side. You had Mathers find us a room. You washed … so tenderly where the brutish man had been. I made a vow to myself that I would find a way to repay you for your kindness.”
“Kindness? Mercy, any man would have come to your rescue—”
“Only any man didn’t. You did. When Fancy told me she was carrying your child, and she had to leave, I went with her to ensure she was taken care of. When she told me that she didn’t want John, I could hardly believe it. I told her I would take him. Then we saw your name on the list of the dead. We argued over what to do. John was all that remained of you
His heart was shattering one word at a time. “I do, Mercy. You don’t have to say more.”
“He was so like you. I fell in love with him a little bit more each day. I couldn’t bear the thought of leaving him. So I said I was his mother, because I thought no one with any decency would separate a child from his mother. When I learned you were alive, I feared if I confessed to not being his mother, that you would find fault with me and not want your son around a woman who spouted lies. So I continued with the charade.”
“It was no charade.” He couldn’t stop himself. He cradled her cheek, cold and damp with her tears. “You are his mother. Can you ever forgive me for doubting you?”
She shook her head.
“Mercy, God, Mercy, I will do anything you ask of me. I won’t search for the memories anymore. I won’t worry about the past. I’ll hoard every memory from this moment on. They’ll be enough if they include you.”
“I was wrong to deceive you.”
“You didn’t. You are John’s mother. I have no memory of our first night together, but I have no doubt, my dear, precious, courageous wife, that if I did remember it, I would discover that I had begun to fall in love with you that night.”
Weeping, she fell into his lap. He held her close, rocking her, whispering sweet words of forgiveness and love. There was a familiarity to the moment that surprised him, as though he almost did remember holding her like this.
“Come home with me, Mercy. Come home to me and to John.”
Against his shoulder, she nodded. Lifting her into his arms, he carried her from the room.
His mother was waiting expectantly at the bottom of the stairs. He wasn’t surprised. He was astonished that she hadn’t been standing in the bedchamber doorway listening.
“Where are you going?” she asked.
He tightened his hold on Mercy. “To make memories.”
Everything seemed so familiar, so welcoming as Stephen escorted her into the residence. He’d held her close in the carriage as though he were afraid that if he released her for even a second, she’d disappear from his life forever. He’d kissed her and murmured how much he loved her, how he would ensure that she never regretted being married to him.
He made her feel special again, made her glad for every step she’d traveled along the path that had led her to him.
Upstairs they went to the nursery. After giving Mercy a few minutes to hold John close, breathe in his fragrance, and then tuck him back into bed, Stephen led her to the bedchamber. He made short work of removing her clothes and his. They tumbled onto the bed.
With reverence, he trailed his fingers over her body—slowly, provocatively. She skimmed her hands up his arms, over his chest.
“Don’t think about it,” she ordered softly.
He lifted his gaze to hers.
“That night. So long ago,” she said.
“I can’t think about what I don’t remember.”
But somehow he’d learned about it, and although he didn’t have the memory, he now had the knowledge. He brushed his lips over her throat.
“I love you, Mercy,” he whispered. “It almost killed me to send you away.”
“Then why did you?”
“Stubborn pride. But more than that.” He threaded his fingers through her hair, his palm cupping her cheek. “From the moment I woke up in that damned hospital, I’ve felt lost. Until you came into my life. You provided me with an anchor, and when I learned the truth, I felt as though I was once again floundering. It’s not an excuse for my behavior. But rather an explanation for it.”
“And now.”
“I feel as though I’ve finally come home.” He took her mouth gently, but with an urgency that spoke of desire loosely leashed. He would release it soon and they’d become lost in the heat and the passion, the familiarity of each other.
His touch was different this time. Or perhaps it was only the way she perceived it. No secrets lay between them. Whatever memories were lost to him didn’t matter. The two of them existed now, within this moment. Just as he’d said as he’d carried her out of his mother’s residence, they would make new memories. She would give him so many that he’d never remember them all. Thousands upon thousands until neither of them thought about the past two years, until neither of them ever again spoke of Scutari. Or dreamed of it.
They took their time, caressing and stroking, as though each wanted to memorize every detail of the other, reaffirm the familiar, make note of the newly discovered. It always amazed her that somehow she always learned something new about him. A scar that had been overlooked, a spot on his side that was ticklish, an area that was more sensitive. They would have years of this. Learning, savoring, cherishing.
But she didn’t want to think about the future. She wanted to concentrate on this single moment, the beauty of it as he joined his body to hers.
“Home,” he whispered near her ear. “With you, I’m always home.”
He began to rock against her, slowly at first and then more quickly. Her body reacted swiftly and strongly to the rhythm. They touched, they kissed. His mouth latched on to the peak of her breast, and he suckled. Pleasure tore through her in undulating waves, carrying her higher and higher…
To heights never before reached.
“Oh, God,” she moaned, pressing him closer, digging her fingers into his shoulders.
“I love you, Mercy,” he rasped, his breath harsh, labored.
Opening her eyes, she held his and saw the truth of his words. Not that she’d doubted, but here was more evidence, the love he felt for her reflected so clearly in the blue of his gaze.
“I love you, Stephen. I have for so long.”
“Love me longer.”
“I’ll love you into eternity.”
“You’re the only one, the only one I’ve ever loved.”
Groaning low, he dipped his head and pressed a kiss to the tiny scar on her collarbone that remained from that long ago night. If it had not already healed, she thought the press of his lips might have had the power to heal it. It was as though everywhere he touched, she felt renewed. Tonight was a cleansing, a ridding of lies, deceit, and mistrust. She’d always thought that when they were together they were as one. Only now did she realize that a thin barrier had existed between them, placed there by her fears of discovery. But now he knew the truth, all of it, and here he was. Whispering words that touched her deeply. Taking possession of her with a fierceness that claimed her as his and announced he was hers.
Raising himself above her, he slid into her, glided out, his movements deliberate, with purpose, lifting her awareness, spiking her pleasure until it climbed—
“Oh, my dear God!” She arched back, then curled around him, holding him near, pressing against him as his rhythm quickened.
He cried out her name as his body jerked and spasmed. He never loosened his hold on her gaze. Triumph washed over his face, but it wasn’t that of a victor. Rather it was that of a man who had conquered himself. As he lowered himself and buried his face in the curve of her throat, she circled her arms and legs around him, holding him tightly and dearly.
For the first time since she’d left Scutari, she felt as though she, too, had finally come home.
Chapter 26
I want to know everything, every moment I spent with you that I can no longer recall.”
They were lying in bed, completely unclothed, she on her back, he raised up on an elbow, skimming his fingers over her continuously as though he couldn’t bear the thought of even one second of not touching her.
Lowering his head, he pressed a kiss to the swell of her breast. “Tell me, Mercy.”
And so she did.
Of how she’d first seen him sitting against a wall awaiting medical treatment. Of assisting with the surgery. The hours she’d sat by his side when fever raged. The talks of England they’d had while he was recovering. The nights when he’d gone out for some fresh air. When she had spotted him leaning against the building. The nights they’d taken a stroll, even though she knew she’d be suspected of notorious behavior, knew that if she were caught Miss N would return her to England.
“Why risk it?” he asked.
“Because like all women, I never could resist you.”
He skimmed his knuckles along her cheek. “Never compare yourself to all women. You are nothing at all like any woman I’ve ever known.”
They were quiet for several moments while she gathered her courage to tell the tale and he gathered the strength to hear it. Finally, she told him about the night of the attack. The horror of it. The wonder of it.
“You ordered Sergeant Mathers to find us a room. He did. It was only you and me in there. You laid me on the bed, examined me so carefully, so gently.” She brushed her fingers through his hair at his temples. “You washed me. Then you held me, told me you cared for me. You gathered my tears with kisses. You made me believe that everything would be all right. That I could survive it. And so I did.”
He cradled her cheek, held her gaze. “I love you so much. I don’t know what the devil possessed me to send you away.”
His mouth covered hers and once again they became a tangle of limbs, touching, exploring, pleasuring.
Tonight the lovemaking was different, more intense, more … free. No secrets. Only honesty between them.
When he filled her, she welcomed him gladly. They moved in a sinuous motion, the passion building, the fire burning. She had no doubt that he was hers, now and forever. Nothing, nothing at all would ever take him from her again.
When pleasure eclipsed all else, it was celebrated with him calling out her name.
Mercy, Mercy, Mercy.
The joyous jubilation swept away the last of her nightmares. As she nestled against him to fall asleep, she knew they’d never return.
In the hallway of the terraced residence Stephen waited to be received. It was nearly noon. He’d planned to arrive earlier, but his vixen of a wife had kept him in bed longer than he’d expected. Not that he was complaining. Once this business was over with, he planned to spend each morning in bed as late as his wife desired.
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