"No need for modesty between us. Explanations, yes, so would you like to go first?"
Felicity swallowed. It had not been a question, and she guessed she had a lot of explaining to do. "Where to start?" Her throat was dry. "May I have a drink, My Lord? Not brandy."
He gave a crack of laughter. "No, not brandy. There isn't any left here anyway. I have a jug of water, will that do?"
"Perfectly," Felicity said fervently. "I never want to see a bottle of brandy again. If I could blame it for my actions I would, but I have to admit, it played no part in it, except for sending me to sleep. Water would be exactly right, and if you have no glass, I'll drink it out of the jug." In fact, she thought one jug might not be enough to quench her thirst and put out the flames of need still burning inside her. It seemed once was never enough with this man. Not that she had anyone else to compare him with.
Nash left the room, and returned within minutes with a large glass jug and two glasses. He poured water and passed a drink to her before sitting back on the bed.
"If you're cold, cover yourself. I have a very good memory. Including the way we used the ink and needles intended to tattoo my pedigree hounds for security on ourselves instead. Why did you run?" In the brighter light his eyes seemed to bore into her. The dark orbs flashed gold and silver darts and held her as surely as a butterfly pinned onto a board.
Felicity took a sip of water to try and marshal her thoughts. She'd spent many a lonely hour wondering just what had prompted her to listen to a friend of Judith's and go to the masquerade. She could only be glad she had, even though she'd arrived late and left very early.
"It's a long story," she said slowly, and shivered. To her delight their nakedness didn't bother her at all, but the chill of an autumn dawn was beginning to get to her.
Nash looked at the coverlet and made a face. "Fit for the fire. Ah well, it will give the servants something to talk about. Get under the blanket and I’ll join you." As she did as he asked, Nash gathered the silk up into a bundle and put in in the hearth. Felicity moved under the sheet and woolen blanket and watched as he used a candle to set the evidence of their release alight.
"You were saying?" he asked as he swung onto the bed and pulled her close to him. "It's a long story? Maybe you need to condense it for now. The servants will be up and about soon. We need to know what we're going to do."
"They can't find me," Felicity said, her voice rising as she contemplated that horror. They may know she was in the house; she didn't want them to find her in the master's bed. "I’d best leave now." She went to move. Nash stopped her by holding her arm. Even in her agitated state, his touch sent a surge of heat and safety through her. Dare she trust him? Felicity decided she had to—for then anyway. Who knew what might transpire?
"Who can't? Explain things to me. From the night of the masquerade. Why were you there?" Nash pulled her closer and put his arm around her shoulder. Felicity resisted for a brief second and he laughed softly. "Ah love, too late for that, you're mine and I'm yours and so we will be. Perhaps if I knew your name? You see, you have me at an advantage. All I know is I met a masked beauty at the Gravesends’ masquerade. She took my breath and my soul. We spent one perfect night together, and pledged our allegiance with a tattoo. Then we slept in each other's arms. When I woke up, Madame Felice had gone and all I had left of her was inked on my groin. Oh and a lock of her hair, and not from her head."
"You kept my hair? Oh lud. Where?" Men didn't wear lockets. Felicity hazarded a guess that her face was rosy, and it burned.
"In my ring." He waved his hand and she realized the ring on his right hand was a raised signet. "I had it made. I swear the jeweler thought it was a poison ring."
Felicity giggled. "What did you say?"
Nash raised his eyebrow. The autocratic gesture reminded her of someone. "I'm a Brigstock. We don't explain."
Spots danced in front of Felicity's eyes and the room spun. Now she knew who he reminded her of.
"A Brigstock?" She rasped the words, and dug her nails into her hand in the hope the pain would stop her swooning.
"Of course." He sounded puzzled. "I thought you knew who I was. Nash Gretton, third son of the Earl of Brigstock."
That was what she feared. "Related to Peregrine?" She had to know.
"My elder brother, why?"
Felicity took a deep breath and willed herself not to be sick. Of all the cruel tricks fate could play. "Because My Lord, I am Lady Felicity Oakley."
"Lord Nash Gretton. Pleased to make your acquaintance, although I prefer Madame Felice."
He doesn't know. I have to tell him.
"Nash, I'm the woman your brother has decided will be his wife."
His arm tightened on hers and he twisted to look at her. "Over my dead body," he shouted.
That was what she was afraid of.
****
Nash stared at the trembling woman in front of him. Damn it, I'm scaring her. "Felicity, if I may call you that? Love, I'm sorry, I'm not angry with you. But neither will I let you marry my brother. You're mine. I love you…. Damn, I do. I've never said that before without an ulterior m..." He pulled himself up short. To his relief she giggled.
"I can get the gist, My Lord. No need to go into details," she said. He let his breath out in one noisy whoosh. "But I am in a hard place. For whatever reason, both he and my papa think it a good match, even though I said no. They didn't listen. I came to see my cousin, she doesn't listen. I'm at a loss what to do. That's why you found me in your bed. Oh, I didn't know who lived here. I just had to leave Judith. I was told your brother was to visit and I would accept his offer. My father, Judith, and that blasted husband of her all seemed to think I would meekly comply. Your brother treats it as a fait accompli. Nash, I cannot."
That was one sentiment he agreed with. "You cannot. Believe me, you will not. We will do something. Talk to me about why Perry has chosen you. Then we will plot."
She shrugged, and took another sip of water. The ripples of her throat as she swallowed were enough to entice his cock to stand up and demand attention. He ignored it, and focused on Felicity. She handed him her empty glass and bit her lip.
"I think it is a plot my father and your brother have concocted. Something to do with smuggling and France? Oh lud, Nash, I'm hardly the person they confide in. What I have garnered is from listening when it is thought I'm not aware, and strangely, from that masquerade. I arrived late, and immediately Gussie pestered me. Why was I late, was Peregrine with me? When I said no, she seemed annoyed, and wanted to know where he was. Why should I know that? It was immaterial, because I wasn't interested in him, and I'd told Papa and him that several times. All I can say is it was like being in a box where no one could hear you. I was totally ignored and I went to the masquerade in defiance. On reflection, you know, I think she only asked me to attend to try and get information. And the worst thing was I had no idea what she wanted. Then I met you, and I couldn't care about anything else. Until I realized I had to leave." She was silent for a moment, and then shook her head. "Ah well, so what now? I can't be seen. For I will not go back and be forced to marry someone who has no interest in me. Not now."
Nash moved beside her once more. "No," he agreed. "Would you have before?"
She tilted her head to one side, considering his statement. "Not if I could have found a way not to. Not because I don't think Peregrine would be honorable, I know he would. But because we both deserve better." She looked so desolate that Nash knew there had to be something he could do.
"Gretna," he declared. "As soon as we can."
Chapter Nine
Planning an elopement was easier said than done. Hiding Felicity proved to be surprisingly easy. The servants were used to being banned from his personal study. Nash just extended the ban to his bedchamber once the room had been tidied in the morning. Sometimes he wondered at their compliance, especially his housekeeper who didn't make her usual muttering of fires, coals and trimming the wicks of the lamps. When he
mentioned this to Felicity, she grinned.
"Less work for her, perchance?"
That seemed to be a silly statement. "She doesn't do the work," he pointed out. "She just directs whoever is to perform the duties."
"She has to coordinate," Felicity replied. "To ensure any house runs smoothly, one person has to manage everything. Marg … Mrs. Whittering does so perfectly."
Nash glanced at her with suspicion. She had a smile playing over her lips, one that spelled suspicion to him. He was sure she'd been going to call his housekeeper by a Christian name. How would Felicity know that? Margaret Whittering was always referred to as Mrs.
"How do you know? You are up here."
"And I wouldn't be, and unchallenged if she didn't run a tight ship now, would I?"
She had a point. In spite of his interest, he filed her comments away for later.
After the first day, he and Felicity sorted out a routine that worked perfectly. Nash still had to do the day-to-day running of the hunt, and suffer visits from Lord Welland asking in a roundabout way if he knew anything of Felicity's disappearance. As his lordship had to be circumspect, Nash was able to say with perfect truth he had no idea what the gentleman was talking about. Once he'd gone, Nash had made his way to his study, to find Felicity sitting at his desk surrounded by his stud books.
"These are a mess, My Lord. Whilst I have time on my hands, may I tidy them?" He agreed with alacrity, as he hated the paperwork.
"Good, and I have also begun to think about the whys and wherefores of your brother determining I was right for him. I think it must have something to do with my cousin…" She paused and twisted the quill she was holding between her fingers. "I wish I knew why I think that. Something is trying to emerge from my memory, but I know not what."
"It will come," Nash assured her. "I'll change the subject. I have had a visitor."
The pen dropped from her hands and rolled over the floor. "Not your brother?" she asked in an alarmed voice, as she bent her head to pick up the slender instrument. Her bowed head and sloping shoulders gave Nash the urge to hold her like that, to rest his cock against her lips and demand she suck him until he spilled in her mouth. He dragged his mind away from the erotic picture it had created and back to her question.
"No, your cousin in law, asking very delicately if I met you when you were here."
"Him." Her voice was invested with scorn. "He has something about him that I find unnerving. Sinister even. He looks at me as if I am a peculiar problem." She bit her lip. "Or the answer to it. He doesn't listen to a word I say. Oh, he pretends to, he shows attention outwardly, but I always feel his mind is on other things. One day I even said that the weather was perfect for a picnic and he agreed, and patted my hand." She sat up and shivered. "It was raining. What? Why are you staring? Do I have jam on my chin? Or a spot? Tell me Nash, for heaven's sake, you are beginning to make me worry."
He didn't say a word, just kept his eyes on hers. Her blue irises darkened from the color of a sunlit sky to that of one storm swept, and she jumped. "You're scaring me now. What do you know that you aren't telling me?"
"Is your cousin devoted to Welland?" It was an abrupt change of subject, but Nash felt something tug at his memory.
"I'm not sure." Felicity bit her lip. "She says so, he says so, and most of the time they act it. Although, at times, I saw a flash of something else in her eyes. Not quite anger, not quite fear but almost disquiet and, oh I'm not sure … a degree of repugnance. Why?"
He ignored her query for it was not his secret to share. Instead Nash gave into his inclination and held her shoulders in a loose grasp, before sliding one hand under the top of her gown and finding her nipple. Her skin was soft under his calloused fingers. As he grasped it between thumb and forefinger, Nash wondered if he was hurting her. She didn't look as if he was. Her lips parted and she ran her tongue around them in a manner that had him once more envisioning it on his prick. He pinched the soft skin of her breast and she gasped.
"Ah, how can I concentrate when you send my body into spasms?" Her breath came in pants and her skin shone with the evidence of her arousal. Nash was sure if he lifted her skirts and delved into her cunt, she would be wet and ready for him. "Na … ash, please." Her voice trailed off and he laughed softly.
"Hell, is it not? To want so desperately and have to wait. They say patience is a virtue, but 'tis not one I think either of us have in any great amount. But I feel we need to cultivate it. If you scream as I so enjoy at night, now, in here, it would bring all the servants running, and we would be unmasked."
She flushed and looked guilty. "Well what are we to do next?" The question was asked in a rush, and she leaned back in her chair. If she thought the movement would remove his hands she was mistaken. If anything Nash tightened his grip on her shoulders and her nipple. The soft cry she gave and the way her body rippled was enough for his cock to harden almost to pain. He dragged his mind back to their problem once more. Standing so close to her, her scent in his nostrils and her soft body showing how he affected her was always a distraction.
"What to do? I'm not sure yet. I need to speak to Randall, and perhaps Perry. Oh don't worry, you won't be mentioned." He'd seen a flash of alarm in her eyes. "Though I am at a loss to understand why notice of your absence hasn't been mentioned. Servants gossip, and I would have thought there would have been talk between those who work here and those who work at the court." Nash was convinced a flash of consternation crossed her face. He made haste to reassure her. "It seems for reasons unknown, or perhaps to save face, Welland is not letting it be known you have disappeared. I won't make enquiries in case it gets him wondering why I'm being nosy. Tittle tattle will get around eventually, and I can but hope by then, we'll be well away." Felicity turned her face up to him, as he stood behind her. He kissed the tip of her nose, and then looked out of the tiny window. "The sun is shining for once. It makes a change from all the incessant rain of late.”
"Nash, take me out, please. Just for air, somewhere no one will see us. I'm going crazy in here." Felicity stood and paced across the room. "Please?"
He shook his head. "How, when no one knows you are here?" Once more that strange look flitted across her face. "What aren't you admitting to me? Tell me or I might find a good reason to paddle your delectable arse," he warned. "And to be honest? I fear I need little to encourage me to do so."
She giggled. "That is more of an inducement for me not to tell you, My Lord. But if I do explain things I want your oath you will not blame anyone who has helped me."
So there was something going on. What the devil? “Well, what have I to lose? You have my word as a Brigstock."
"I'm not exactly hidden from everyone," she said in a rush. "Your servants have helped me from almost the first. Without some of them, I could be in dire straits."
He'd wondered as much. Now everything began to fall into place. "From when I found you?'
"Before," Felicity confessed. "Margaret—Mrs. Whittering is a distant relative. When I discovered she was nearby, I appealed to her for help. Thankfully she listened. I left my cousin's house and hid here. I often wondered if you thought you had mice. Or just how many people you were feeding. I also wondered why Margaret and the others never mentioned you by name, and ignored me when I asked. Of course Margaret knew whom my papa said I was to marry. I will have words with her." She smiled. "Nothing too severe as we have now perhaps turned everything around."
Nash laughed. She looked so perfect, her lips rosy, her face flushed and her dress disheveled.
"You have five minutes to tidy yourself. Then we will slip out and play." Her grin rewarded him. Her arms around his neck, and the enthusiastic kiss on his cheek did as well.
"What do I need?" She rammed a few hairpins in place, and pulled her dress almost back into place. "Oh, a scarf. One minute." She opened a drawer and took out a red scarf. Nash stared, and began to laugh.
"I'm sure I recognize that. Half under my bed, when I was three sheets to the wind
. On the night we rediscovered each other. Where were you?"
Felicity wrapped it around her shoulders, and tied it loosely. "Under the bed. Aghast at the fact it had snagged on the coverlet, and trying not to sneeze from the dust. You will notice, if you ever stoop down, that the dust is gone. In case I have to avail myself of the space one more, you understand."
Nash laughed so much he had a pain in his side and his jaw ached. "If only I had bent down," he sputtered between guffaws. "But I couldn't be bothered, I wanted to drink brandy, fleece Randall and try to forget the lady who haunted my dreams. I succeeded with the first two, but didn't manage the third. If you are ready?" Felicity nodded. "Then follow me. We will use the servants' stair. It will be quiet at this time of the day." He stood back to let Felicity walk into the bedchamber. "Unless you prefer to get our exercise in a different way?” He gazed toward the bed.
She waggled a finger at him. "Oh no My Lord, we will get that a-plenty later this night I'm sure. I need fresh air and to stretch my legs with walking, not stretch them around your body, as perfect as that exercise is. I want to fill my lungs and smell grass and greenery and look up at the sky without glass in between us. Do you know how long I have been confined between these four walls?"
"Too long?"
"Much too long. Well no. That sounds wrong. I love the confining when it is with you." She sighed. The sound hit him and churned his gut. "But, oh Nash, what are we going to do? I can see no end to this predicament. You say we go to Gretna. But how will that help you or appease your family? I accept I have tarnished my reputation already, but is it fair for the same to happen to you? I think not." She sounded agonized. The worry he heard sent a stab of pain thundering into him, and Nash made haste to reassure her.
"Nothing you can do will change the way my family think of me. I am the reprobate. I refuse to conform. As I think on it more, it seems we are all like that, except Perry. He conforms, so maybe he is not as the rest of us, eh? Non-conformist in his conforming. Don't worry; I do what's right for me, and now for us. The others? Cecy has been banished to the wilds of Devon for disrespecting convention once too often. Randall? I won't talk about his problems, but they are manifold, Papa?" He rolled his eyes and ushered Felicity toward the stairs that led from his bathing chamber. "Papa has gone to regain his youth, and Harry, well if he doesn't blow Parliament up by mistake, it will be a miracle. The Brigstocks are not renowned for conventionality, far from it. You will fit in with us fine."
Nash's Niche (Behind Closed Doors) Page 6