“I’ll be back soon,” he called out, though he was certain she truly didn’t care.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Elizabeth breathed a sigh of relief as Nicholas shut the door behind him. The strain between them was nearly more than she could bear. As soon as she could sneak a word in with the chattering maid, she dismissed her, anxious to have a few moments of peace before Nicholas returned.
Silence fell over the room after the maid took her leave. Elizabeth stretched, hoping to ease the ache in her shoulders. Between the worry over her father and the constant tension she felt with Nicholas, not to mention the tumultuous events of the past few days, she was exhausted.
She removed her dusty kirtle and stripped down to her chemise. The warm water and soft cloth felt wonderful over her skin, but she didn’t linger as she feared Nicholas would return before she completed her makeshift bath.
The water was a distinct brown color when she finished. With a grimace, she decided to toss the dirty water out the window in case Nicholas wanted to wash with the clean water left in the pitcher. With careful steps, she carried the basin to the window.
No moon filled the sky but the courtyard was well lit by torches mounted on the walls of the inn. After making certain no one was below, she tossed the water to the ground then paused to draw a deep breath of the cool night air.
Movement caught her eye, and she glanced down to see Nicholas enter her line of sight. She backed up from the window, not wanting to be caught watching him, but curious as to where he was going. Even now, after all he’d said to her, the things he’d accused her of, and even his poor attempt at an apology, her heart melted at the sight of him. What was it about this man that pulled at her so?
He strode across the courtyard toward the well. Did he seek a drink of water?
With quick movements, he lowered the wooden bucket with the rope tied to it. After raising the dripping bucket and setting it on the edge of the short stone wall, he pulled off his tunic and laid it beside the bucket.
Elizabeth held her breath, fascinated at the scene unfolding before her.
The muscles of his back rippled in the golden torchlight as he moved, accenting the breadth of his shoulders that tapered to narrow hips. He lifted the bucket and poured the water over his head.
Elizabeth’s stomach dropped to the floor.
The water cascaded over his body, his tanned skin glistening as he moved. He shook his head, his black hair flinging droplets of water everywhere. Setting down the bucket, he rubbed his hands over his face and turned around.
Elizabeth murmured a prayer of thanks that she had the chance to drink in the front of him as well. And she was so thirsty. Riveted to the sight of him, she couldn’t have stepped away from the window if the inn had caught fire. Certain her mouth was agape, she watched as his arms undulated with each movement he made as he wiped the excess water first from his hair, then his body. His sculpted chest and abdomen left her breathless. He was magnificent. No other word described him.
Even as she watched, he looked up, saw her standing there and froze. Her fingers tightened on the basin she still held as his gaze tangled with hers. She couldn’t look away, pinned by the heat of his gaze. After a long pause, he reached for his tunic and pulled it back on. The courtyard stood empty a moment later.
Appalled at her behavior, she moved back to the small table to set down the basin before she dropped it, and sank to the chair before the fire. She waited with bated breath to hear her husband’s tread on the stairs, her heart pounding.
What could she possibly say to him now? Should she apologize? Her mind wrestled with her limited options, but long moments passed with no sound permeating the room except the occasional boisterous laugh from the guests below.
Just as she determined that Nicholas had decided not to stay in the room with her because of her boorish behavior, a soft knock sounded at the door. She opened her mouth to bid him to enter but thought better of it. What if it wasn’t him after all? She stood to question the person as the door opened, revealing Nicholas, much to her relief.
As her gaze met his, she couldn’t erase the image of his naked, powerful body from her mind. His dark wet hair framed the strong planes of his face. That intense blue gaze of his dropped to her lips, and she licked them self-consciously. His gaze lowered further and her nipples tightened in response. The heat of the fire was warm at her back, but didn’t compare to the heat emanating from her body as he perused her.
And then she realized she must be silhouetted against the fire in her thin chemise. He already thought her a trollop. He’d caught her gaping at him only moments before. Now he’d think even worse of her. She crossed her arms over her breasts and sat down quickly in the chair, tucking her bare feet beneath her chemise. “I wasn’t sure you were coming back,” she murmured.
He closed the door and locked it, then moved to the fire and held his hands out to the heat, his back to her. “I said I would.”
The awareness that had filled her when she’d watched him outside squeezed her heart and burned deep in her belly. How unfortunate that Nicholas stirred her so, making her long for things that would never be. Even now, she had to remind herself to keep her gaze on anything except him.
His profile was etched clearly by the firelight. His straight nose, high cheekbones, and the slash of his brow combined to make a strong and handsome man. She sighed and pulled her gaze back to the fire yet again.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him lift a hand to his head and knew a headache loomed there. Though part of her wanted to rise and rub his temples to ease his pain, she stayed where she was, knowing any help she offered would not be welcome.
Still, she couldn’t help but watch to see if the pain grew worse. He lowered his hand, and she’d almost decided all was well when he gave a sharp intake of breath and held his head in both hands. He bent forward, and she could wait no more.
“Nicholas?” She rose and stepped close to him. “Are you well?”
He moaned, holding his head as though he’d like to tear it from his body.
Unsure what else to do, she took his elbow and eased him into one of the chairs. “Tell me how I can help.”
He gave a small shake of his head even as he hissed with pain.
“What can I do?” Panic filled her when he didn’t answer. She couldn’t stand to see him hurt. With both hands, she gently rubbed his temples, the back of his neck, then moved to his shoulders, massaging through his damp tunic, trying to ease the tension there.
He pressed his head against her stomach and wrapped his arms around her waist as though he’d not survive without her.
“Nicholas, please tell me what’s wrong!”
“Vision,” he bit out.
“Vision?” She couldn’t imagine what he meant. Was something wrong with his eyes?
“Ah.” His breath released in a rush and the tension in his shoulders eased.
“Are you having trouble seeing?” Her question hung in the air between them, but remained unanswered. She continued to hold him against her, though it seemed the danger had passed. After several moments, she asked, “Is the pain gone?”
She felt the almost imperceptible nod of his head against her body. His hair was still damp, soft and smooth beneath her fingertips. Warmth spread through her as her fear faded and awareness took its place. She tried to gather her thoughts about what had seemed so important a moment ago.
Yet his hands still held her, his thumbs moving in small circles over her hip bones. Desire flooded her, and she drew in a shaky breath to ease the sudden ache that filled her.
Nay. This couldn’t happen.
She couldn’t risk his rejection again. Suddenly, what he’d muttered came back to her. “Nicholas? What did you mean when you said ‘vision’?” she asked, certain his answer held the key to all of her questions.
The movement of his hands stopped, but he didn’t lift his head, nor did he release her.
“Tell me. Is it your sight?”
She thought back over all the other times she’d seen him in pain and how oddly he’d acted afterward. “The headaches...do they have something to do with this problem?”
“I can see fine.”
“What did you mean?” Still he said nothing, his head bowed.
She waited, hoping desperately that he’d explain.
He heaved a sigh. “Second sight,” he muttered.
Surprised, she tried to grasp his meaning. “As in a glimpse of the future?” She’d heard of such things, but never known of anyone gifted with the sight.
He released her and stood to tower over her. “Aye. Visions. Second sight. Some call it evil.” His tone was bitter and his stance defiant, daring her to question him.
She tried to comprehend what the visions were, how they might work, and then it dawned on her. “That’s how you knew. How you knew William had been at Amberley.”
Nicholas said nothing. He seemed to be waiting. For what, she wondered?
Her thoughts raced, trying to remember. “But you weren’t sure you were at the right place. That’s why you waited to confront us. What made you realize he’d been held there?”
His mouth was set in a hard line, his anger palpable. He eyed her steadily, before at last he said, “Robert showed me the dungeon.”
“Ah! I’ve often wondered what happened, what changed your mind about...us.” She could hardly bear to think of that day and the devastation she’d felt. As best she could, she pushed aside the pain of the memory so she could try to understand. “Do you have to be in a place where something occurred in order to have one?” But more memories filled her and she answered her own question. “Nay, you have had them in many different places.”
The look on his face made her feel as though she were some sort of unusual object he’d never seen before and wasn’t sure what to make of. “What is it?” she asked.
Nicholas stared at Elizabeth. He could almost see her mind turning over the possibilities, sifting through the information she had and trying to understand how his visions worked.
What was wrong with her? Was she crazed rather than he?
“I’ve just explained that I have second sight, and you’re only questioning where I have to be to have a vision?”
She blinked several times. “Well, no, actually. I have many questions. Should I ask them all at once?”
He’d been prepared for many reactions if she ever discovered his second sight. However, her calm curiosity had not been one of them. With a shake of his head, he turned away and rubbed his hands over his face. “What do you want to know?”
She eyed him warily, as though understanding his reluctance to discuss his second sight. “Have you always had them?”
“For as long as I can remember.”
“What do you see?”
He shrugged, still unable to believe they were talking about this. “Just glimpses of things.”
“Of people or places?”
“Usually people, but sometimes nothing more than a place.”
“People you know?”
“Not always.” He paused, wondering how far he should let the conversation go. Yet what did he have to lose?
Nothing, for he’d already lost Elizabeth. He couldn’t forget that he was escorting her home. “I had a vision of your cousin before I met him.”
“Gerard? Of what sort?”
He explained the glimpse he’d seen of Gerard and his wounded shoulder.
“That is why you asked if I knew if he’d been injured.”
Nicholas shrugged. “Another misleading vision.”
“The day at the cottage. The day we got caught in the rain.” She waited, saying nothing more.
He ran a hand through his hair, embarrassed to admit how many false visions he’d had. “Aye, another vision. Of someone holding a knife to your throat.”
“Oh,” she said, obviously surprised. “I’d thought I’d done something wrong.” She gestured vaguely in the air as her cheeks turned a becoming shade of pink.
“Nothing of the sort.” He reassured her, amused by her self-consciousness.
“Who was threatening me?” Rather than appearing to be frightened, she looked interested.
“I don’t know. Therein lies the problem with the visions. I only see parts of things. Like a painting I stand inside, facing one direction. Sometimes I can turn and see more, and other times I can’t. They last but a moment.”
“They make you physically ill.” She made a statement rather than a question. “Has this always been true?”
With a sigh, he sat again on the edge of the chair. “When I try to...avoid them, it gives me a headache, makes me sick to my stomach.”
“Why would you avoid them?”
Her nearness made it hard for him to think. She smelled sweet – fresh and clean. Her thin chemise did little to hide her curves in the soft glow of the fire. Her nipples stood taught and erect against the thin fabric. What had she asked him? Ah, yes. “I would do anything to rid myself of the damned things. For a short time, I succeeded.”
“It must be difficult to see these glimpses and not always understand them.” Her tone was sympathetic, but he didn’t detect any pity. “I suppose others don’t always trust your gift.”
“I have been teased, avoided, deemed evil, and much worse since I was a child. Even I don’t trust my gift.” He saw his sarcasm hadn’t escaped her when her brows rose. “’Tis more of a curse.”
She said nothing, but sat down across from him, her expression open and curious.
“If it was a gift, I would give it back,” he continued, in an effort to make her understand. He wanted to explain it to her though he hadn’t tried to explain his second sight to anyone for a long time. Over the years, he’d learned not to bother.
“The things I see,” he clarified, “I don’t always know what they mean. I interpret them as best I can, but even then...” He shrugged. Years of bad memories were difficult to explain. “I seem to be damned if I take action on what I see and damned if I don’t.”
She reached out and took his hand. The fire crackled, casting long shadows over the walls of the small chamber.
“I cannot risk the chance of passing this curse to a child. ’Tis a burden no one should have to bear.” He shook his head as he rose and moved to close the window shutter.
Elizabeth waited a long moment, then walked over to join him at the window. “I can’t imagine what it must be like, to have something like that control you, even for a moment. To not be able to draw on it when you need it most.”
Though he listened to her words and tone closely, he still heard no pity or fear. He turned to look at her, searching for some sign of it on her face. He found only understanding. Something cold and hard deep within him seemed to warm and loosen, releasing him.
A peculiar sensation, for certain.
“My visions are a foul thing. People who have befriended me suddenly look at me with distrust and fear when they discover my second sight.” He held her gaze, willing her to truly understand. “I fear one day I will act rashly based on a vision and cost someone their life. I’ve already come close several times.”
Elizabeth looked at him for a long moment, as though weighing her words carefully. She laid her hand on his cheek, her fingers soft and gentle. “Nicholas, if God gave you this gift, it was for a reason.” She looked at him so earnestly that he knew she truly believed what she’d said.
“What if it wasn’t God at all?” His quiet words hung in the air between them. This was a question he’d never dared to voice his entire life for fear it was true.
“Nay. I do not believe that. Not for a moment.” She answered so matter of fact that he almost believed her. “God does not punish the good.”
He nearly smiled as he took her hand from his cheek to hold it in his. Idly, he played with her long fingers which had captured his attention from the start. Her bare toes peeked at him from beneath her chemise. “Who said I am good?”
“Oh, but you are, Nichol
as. Your honor runs deep. I knew that the day I met you.” Her brown eyes looked like endless pools to him, inviting him in. “’Tis easy to blame ourselves when bad things happen. I have done that many times as well.”
“Perhaps,” he acknowledged. He had to admit there was logic in what she said.
“You are a very honorable man. Trust me.”
If only he could trust her, trust himself, but he didn’t know if that was possible. “You thought me honorable before I proved you wrong, you mean.”
He dropped her hand and pulled back, unable to hold her gaze. Even if he set aside the past, he’d wronged her in more ways than he could count, certainly more than he could ever make up for. He didn’t deserve her.
“We are human. We make mistakes. Whether we have visions or not, we all make mistakes. The question is how we live with those. Do we learn from them or repeat them?”
Nicholas looked down at her, struck by the wisdom of her words. How had he been lucky enough to come across this beautiful, intelligent woman, to have her for his wife, even for this short time?
“Who are we to say what is a mistake,” she added, “and what is simply fate?” The firelight silhouetted the narrowness of her waist, the curve of her breast, the arch of her neck. The rosy bow of her lips begged to be kissed. Her soft voice rippled across his skin, urging him closer.
Desire filled him, pulsing through him. He stepped closer, unable to resist her allure. “And what is this? This situation between us? A mistake or fate?” He reached out to touch a silken tendril that had fallen onto her cheek.
“I would prefer to think of it as fate.” She stayed where she was, neither retreating nor coming nearer.
He could hardly blame her for her caution after the way he’d treated her. Her warm brown eyes watched him carefully. Her lips parted, the pulse at her throat fluttered. She drew him with every breath she took, but still she waited, forcing him to decide what he wanted.
Vengeance 02 - Trust In Me Page 26