She pushed their ugly words aside. Her thoughts returned to what she’d felt earlier held against Nicholas’s chest. How different from what she’d known with Julian. She pressed her lips together, resisting a comparison. Julian had been so good to her. He’d offered love and solace to a lonely, unloved young woman. But he’d been sick much of their married life. She’d never undergone a sense of wanting to abandon all moorings to an unknown, unfettered experience as she had in Nicholas’s arms. It frightened her. It meant a letting go of all that was safe and calm.
She glanced over at Nicholas now, remembering he was the one who had first kindled these yearnings in her so long ago. He looked up at that second, and her cheeks grew warm. He lifted his brows in inquiry but she shook her head and bent over her work in the sand once more.
Why had Nicholas come to them now and why was he being so kind? What did he want from this friendship? The questions she’d thought to escape by leaving London resurged and she saw only danger ahead with a man who’d awakened her once before and was doing so again. Once before her heart had known devastating heartbreak because of this man.
Could she trust it to him again?
Chapter Thirteen
Nick stood in waist-deep water, watching Austen flail his thin arms in the water, creating more splashing than movement but little by little, his small body began mobilizing away from him.
Alice clapped her hands. “Very good. You’ll be a champion swimmer soon.”
Nick came up beside her. “Are you ready for your lesson?”
She took a deep breath before plunging into the water and beginning the breaststroke he’d been teaching her.
“That’s right, bend your knees and kick hard. Very good, bring your face up with each stroke.” He kept his tone impersonal, although each day it was becoming more and more difficult to keep his distance. She swam a bit farther, keeping parallel to the beach as he’d taught her. When she finally stopped and stood to look back from where she’d started, she asked, “How did I do?”
“You’re a remarkably quick learner. Come, swim back now.”
While she complied, he glanced down at Austen who was tugging on his arm. “Look at me dive!” The boy held his nose and ducked under the water, no longer afraid of submerging his head completely.
When Alice stood next to him again in the water, she said, “I’m going to sit with Macey a while.”
He glanced at her wet bathing costume, steeling his features to betray nothing of what he felt inside at the revealing silhouette. “We’ll be out soon,” he told her.
“We’re going to build another sandcastle,” Austen added.
Nick watched Alice leave, wondering if he had scared her away. He’d tried his best in the preceding days to be nothing more than an attentive friend to her and an uncle figure to her son. Since his arrival, they had regained much of the friendliness they’d first enjoyed in Richmond, but he still sensed a reticence in her that he hadn’t been able to break through.
Later that evening after dinner, he waited on the veranda, hoping she would come down after bidding Austen good-night. They’d spent most evenings with Miss Endicott and in the company of some of the other guests, sometimes crossing the bridge to the neighboring town of Trouville or strolling down the long lit pier between the two towns.
He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Alice entering the verandah by herself this evening. He turned to her from his view of the ocean when she came to stand beside him by the railings. “Where’s Miss Endicott?”
“She decided to stay upstairs tonight. She asked me to give you her excuses.”
Was his ally helping his cause along this evening? “Is she feeling unwell?”
Alice shook her head. “I think she merely wanted a quiet evening to herself.”
Before Alice could suggest anything with the other guests, Nick said, “Would you like to walk along the beach?”
Instead of replying immediately, she stood a moment, gazing out at the black sea. To avoid a refusal, he said, “We can see the remains of today’s sandcastle.”
She smiled. “I imagine the tide has washed it away.”
The steady rhythm of the waves beckoned them. The murmur of other holiday guests came over the verandah, but the beach was wide and empty.
They descended the shallow wooden steps onto the grassy sand dunes. Before leaving the steps, she halted. “Let me take off my shoes so we can walk on the sand better.”
He held out his hand and she put hers in it while she bent to remove her heeled slippers. Holding them by the straps, she straightened. “Thank you.”
“Ready?”
“Yes.”
“Come.” He offered his hand again and after a second’s hesitation, she put hers in it.
The dune grasses shifted in the breeze. A lacy cloud drifted over the half-moon overhead.
He enjoyed the feel of her soft hand in his, realizing he’d never allowed himself this kind of companionship with a woman.
They walked in silence until they neared the spot where they had built a sandcastle earlier. The water now swirled around it. What had been sharp edges before were only shapeless mounds.
“So much work,” she murmured, taking care not to step too close to the encroaching waves.
“Yes, like everything in life.”
She glanced at him, as if surprised. “Do you see your own work that way?”
“In a sense. I hope it will outlast me, but I know I have only a season to accomplish what I wish.”
“You have no one to leave it to?”
His dark eyes surveyed her over the sandcastle and he shrugged. “I have my brothers and their offspring, but I’ve provided well for them over the years.”
She disengaged her hand from his and hugged her light cashmere shawl closer.
“Cold?”
She shook her head. “My wrap is sufficient.” After a few minutes, she asked, “Why haven’t you ever married?”
He gave a deep sigh, breathing in the sharp, salt-laden night air, having known this question would eventually come. He paused, deciding how to answer. She was waiting attentively.
“When I met you, you were too young.” He didn’t flinch from the surprised look in her eyes. “I had nothing to offer you, even if your age had not been an issue. Your father would never have countenanced anything between us.”
He gave an embarrassed laugh. “I don’t know if you’ll believe me when I tell you that when I sailed for America, I had every intention of working hard until I had enough to come back and declare myself to you.”
“I never knew,” she said softly, her gaze roaming over his features as if seeing them for the first time.
He shook his head. “I was confident I would make a fortune virtually overnight. It didn’t work out that way. The years went by and fortune seemed to elude me despite my efforts. I realized after a while that it had been a vain notion to think I could come back to England and win you. After several years had passed, I imagined you married with children.”
She looked down at the sand at her feet.
He shoved a hand through his hair, finding the next part the most difficult. “Five years ago, I decided it was time for me to marry and settle down, begin to build a dynasty and all that rot.” Again, he gave a shame-faced laugh.
“I had had no time for romantic entanglements up to then. All my time and resources had gone into building up my company. But then I felt I had reached the place where I could begin to enjoy the fruits of my success. I began to look around me at what San Francisco society had to offer.”
“You met someone?” came her soft voice.
“Yes.” When she said nothing more, he continued. “I fancied myself in love. I should have known what she fancied was my pocketbook.”
“No—”
He looked up at the swiftly spoken word.
“How can someone have treated you so shabbily.” She sounded angry.
“Do you really think all women are as selfless as yo
u?” he asked gently, touched by her obvious outrage.
“But, you have so many other assets than material wealth. I’m sure there were many women who would look beyond that.”
“Do you think so?”
“I’m sure of it.”
“You are as kind as you always were.”
“I’m sorry if she hurt you.”
He gave another cynical laugh. “I think if anything was hurt, it was my pride. I know now I was not really in love with her, if the state of my emotions are anything to be judged after I found her giving herself freely to another man.”
Her sharp intake of breath caused him another bitter smile. “I don’t know how anyone could be so cruel.”
He ran a hand through his hair, looking away. “She was young, and I cannot say I blame her now for not falling in love with someone more interested in his work than in her.”
“You cared more for your work?”
He chanced a cautious glance at her, gauging her tone. “At that time, yes.”
He wanted to take her hand again, but she stepped away from him. “Shall we continue?”
“If you’d like,” he said, sensing her withdrawal.
He led her beyond the high water mark to where the sand was dry and still warm from the day’s sun. They passed another couple strolling along arm-in-arm. They had walked about a quarter of a mile when he halted again to gaze out at the dark ocean and listen to the sound of waves. The surf had risen a little and small white caps were visible in the moonlight.
She stooped to pick up a piece of driftwood and tossed it into the waves. It disappeared in the dark. “I wonder if I’ll find it washed up tomorrow.”
“Like me after fifteen years.”
She glanced up at him and smiled. “I’m glad you decided to return after so long.”
Her softly spoken words encouraged him. “When you tilt your head like that, you look just like the sixteen-year-old you used to be.”
She gave a nervous laugh. “I’m far from that girl.”
“I want to kiss you.”
Her gaze shot upward at the abrupt statement.
She swallowed. “Perhaps that’s not a good idea.”
He lifted a tendril of hair that had blown across her cheek. “Why not?”
She looked away. “I’m not that girl you knew, nor are you the man I knew.” She ended in a tone so low he had to bend to catch the words.
He stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. With one step she’d be in his arms, but he sensed she was as skittish as the strands of hair tossed about her face.
“Perhaps who we are now is better,” he murmured, his fingers continuing their caress. Her skin was velvety soft.
“I don’t know.” Her voice was breathless although she tilted her head back a fraction, as if seeking his caresses. “You scare me sometimes.”
“Scare you?” He narrowed his eyes at her, her words throwing him. “How do you mean?”
“You seem so sure of yourself, of what you want.” Were those tears glinting in her eyes?
“I’ve never forgotten you, Alice,” he murmured, his voice growing husky as he came to the end of the words, “and I’ve wanted you for a very long time.” His gaze roamed over her, seeking some sign that she wanted him as much as he wanted her.
Not allowing her a chance to move away, he circled the nape of her neck with his hand and drew her closer. “Kiss me, Alice,” he whispered against her, his lips hovering just over hers.
And then he touched them with his own.
He kissed her slowly, savoring the moment. He dug his fingers into her hair, bringing it tumbling from its loose knot. It was as silky as he’d always imagined.
Alice gasped as his mouth came down and covered hers. His lips felt warm and soft against hers. Had he truly wanted her all this time? Her body and spirit thrilled at the thought. As she leaned closer to him, her arms inched upward, her hands clutching his lapels.
He kissed her thoroughly and she got the sense he knew exactly what he was doing. The way she imagined he did everything.
She couldn’t help responding. Giving herself as she’d never done before, she felt like a bud that had only begun to open before its development had been arrested. Her petals unfurled at last, stretching out towards the sunshine.
Moments later they broke apart slightly. She felt dizzy with the sensations swirling through her and was glad of his hands on her back. She murmured against his shirt front. “You must have kissed a lot of women.”
“I’ve had little practice.”
She looked up at the words to find a frown creasing his brow. He loosened his hold enough to peer into her face. “I’ve just dreamed of this one for a very long time.”
His answer stunned her. He couldn’t mean he’d thought of kissing her for so many years.
She gave a nervous laugh. “I hope I didn’t disappoint you, then.”
He brought a finger up to touch her cheek. “No, you didn’t disappoint. On the contrary. You’ve made me want you more.”
The answer frightened and thrilled her. Yet, he spoke only of wanting her. “Does this mean that you are pursuing me the way you do a business enterprise?” Although she spoke the words lightly, she searched his eyes, fearing the truth.
“Is that what you think?”
“I don’t know what to think.”
With a sigh he let her go and stood a few feet away from her, looking out at the ocean. Had her answer displeased him?
He took up a piece of driftwood of his own and threw it into the surf. “I’ve learned over the years to go after what I want. Sometimes it takes me years before I get what I want, I’ll admit.” He turned to her again, and she stepped back, his words chilling her more than the breeze.
She drew the shawl tighter around her. “Do you always know what you want?”
“Generally speaking.”
“Do you always get what you want?”
His mouth twisted. “As you have heard, no.” After a moment he spoke. “What do you want, Alice?”
“I don’t know,” her answer was almost lost on the sound of the surf.
“Are you sure about that?”
She struggled to discern the meaning of his words. Did he think she was playing a game with him?
Before she could find a suitable reply, he said, “What are you so afraid of?”
How could she tell him it was the feelings he awakened in her that she feared most of all?
Abruptly, he turned away. “Come, you’re getting cold. I’ll take you back before you get a chill.” His voice sounded almost harsh.
Had she disappointed him so much with her response? Would he again go without a word, leaving her unfulfilled, yearning…brokenhearted?
He began walking back toward the hotel—a distant glimmer in the dark, not bothering to offer his hand or arm this time.
She followed silently after him, unsure whether she felt anger or disappointment.
Nick plodded through the sand, her accusation still smarting. Did she truly think he was as cold-blooded as to equate her to a business? He’d told her he’d never forgotten her and dreamed of their kiss—had that meant nothing to her?
The kiss he’d dreamed of for so many years had finally materialized. Manna in the desert, elixir to a dying man, the taste of her lips lingered in his memory—and made him wish for more.
He’d restrained himself, unsure if she’d welcome his kiss. But she’d given herself to him in a way that had emboldened him to hope that perhaps she could someday give him her heart.
Chancing a glance in her direction, he could read nothing from her expression in the dark. Unlike the young girl who’d kissed him inexpertly so many years ago, Alice was now a widow, someone who’d known the love of a man—a most worthy one from all reports. Was she comparing his kiss to her late husband’s—a man who’d had the advantage of enjoying years with the woman he loved?
He dug his hands into his pockets, swallowing the bitterness that rose in him and t
hreatened to spoil the recent intoxication of Alice’s embrace. Clamping down on his emotions, he quickened his step, when all he wanted was to stop and grab Alice once again and crush her to himself until his kisses obliterated her late husband’s.
By the time they reached the hotel and he put a hand to her arm to help her up the steps, he had no idea how to proceed.
He knew very well Alice was not like a business—although he’d faced plenty of complicated situations in the latter, situations requiring careful proceedings and lots of finesse. But his fiasco in San Francisco had taught him how little he understood women.
He was a different man now, and Alice was a completely different quantity from the young woman who’d jilted him. At the moment he had no idea how to read her. In the light spilling out from the wide doors of the hotel, she looked coolly elegant and not like a woman whom he’d so recently ravaged with his kisses.
“Thank you for the walk,” she said in the well-bred tones of a lady being returned from a concert. “It was lovely.”
Lovely? The moment he’d waited for for fifteen years relegated to a description one used to describe blancmange or a bouquet of flowers?
She looked away from him. “I think I’ll retire now.”
He nodded. “Let me walk you to your room.”
“Very well.”
They walked silently up the stairs. At her door, she held out her hand, not meeting his gaze anymore. He took her hand in his. At the last moment, he found he didn’t have the control necessary to merely shake her hand and leave. Tentatively, feeling as unsure as a schoolboy, he leaned down and kissed her on the cheek.
He felt her stiffen a fraction. Feeling rebuffed, he bowed his head. “Good night. Sleep well.”
Was he destined to destroy whatever he reached for in the emotional realm? Was he the man Alice thought he was—nothing but an avaricious, ambitious, ruthless business tycoon?
How could he convince her otherwise?
Alice stood a long time at the narrow balcony in her room, staring out at the sea, hearing the relentless swish of waves, in and out. The sound mirrored her feelings, which swung from exhilaration at the remembrance of Nick’s kiss to the doubts and fears rising to displace it.
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