The pain and longing in his words echoed her own feelings. “No more anger, Nick.” She held out her arms.
“I did not leave you in Bermuda of my own accord. I would never have left you to face all of that alone had I been given a choice.” The husky words, spoken with so much feeling, warmed her more than the fire. “I would never harm your family or hurt them. Surely you know this?”
Jemma nodded, her arms still open to him, the tears welling in her eyes. “I do. I am a reckless, foolish girl from Bermuda who does not place the blame for the past at your feet.”
“Your friend Wren, sent by Corbett, jumped me after I left your father’s study. I wasn’t paying attention, you see, I was—”
“Worried for me.” Her hands fell to her lap.
“Well,” he gave her a sad half-smile, “I hadn’t meant for you to see me, I meant to confront your father and leave. But actually I was looking up at the windows, trying to figure out which one was yours.”
“Whatever for?”
“I planned to kidnap you and take you with me.”
“Kidnap me?” Jemma said in surprise.
“I did not think that after eavesdropping in the hall you would come willingly, thinking I was a cad and a blackmailer.” He shrugged. “At any rate, Corbett paid the ship’s captain to throw me to the sharks once the ship was far enough out and there was no risk to my body washing back to Bermuda.” He came forward and knelt at her feet. “Once the captain saw my eyes,” his voice trailed off, “he knew who I was.”
“And that you were worth more alive than dead to him,” Jemma finished.
Nick placed his hands on her knees. “Yes. But Henry, my grandfather died. I couldn’t get back to Bermuda, to you. I couldn’t—”
“Rescue me.” Jemma laced her hands through the dark mass of his hair, still damp from his climb up the trellis.
“I sent one of my men, Hotchkins, to bring you back, because I couldn’t leave London.” The deep baritone lowered to a tortured whisper. “He was told you were dead. When I received Hotchkin’s letter, I—” He swallowed. “I thought you were lost to me. That I had destroyed the thing I love most.” Nick looked up at her. “I think the worst was the knowledge that you died thinking I used you and discarded you after that day on the beach. My heart—”
“Stop.” A tear ran down Jemma’s cheek. She pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “I did not die. I am here. I will never leave you.” Her throat felt raw. “My uncle told me everything. My parents. The treason. He was my father, and I loved him, but he was a weak man, Nick. He lived a life he didn’t deserve.”
“I never wished for you to know.”
Jemma cupped his face. “I was to be your revenge, wasn’t I?”
Nick closed his eyes for a moment, refusing to look at her. “In the beginning.” His eyes fluttered open, one blue, one brown, both filled with remorse and regret. And painful honestly.
She fell apart completely then, as much from the emotion of the moment as the relief that the telling of the horrible tale was over. For so long she had cursed him, loved him and wondered what possessed him to come to Bermuda. Now she knew. Corbett cost she and Nick dearly. She wept bitterly as he stood and gently lifted her from the chair.
“My entire life has been a lie.” Her chest shook with the force of her tears. “All of it.”
“But we are not, Jem. We are not a lie.” He held her close to his heart and whispered nonsense words of comfort into her ear, gently rocking her until she settled.
“Nick.” His name came out as a hiccup. She ran a fingertip over his nose, stopping at the bump. “You will have to tell me how this break happened. Her hand fell to his stomach, and she felt the muscles contract under her palm. “And of the scars you bear.” Her voice grew fierce. “I will not allow anyone to harm you again.”
A wry smile crossed his lips. “I accept your protection. I’ve no doubt that should I require it, you will rescue me.” He moved and the chair wobbled to one side. “Another poorly made chair. I don’t understand why I cannot find a sturdy chair in all of London.” He paused and cupped her face in his hands. “No more tears, Jem, not for the past and especially not the sins our parents have visited upon us.”
She nodded as he wiped a tear from her cheek.
“There is one more thing.” A large hand clasped hers. "You know of my reputation, my family’s past. We are cursed and most of my ancestors, particularly those that bear my affliction, have come to a bad end. The last Devil of Dunbar went raving mad, clawing at her face and tearing at her clothes."
“Do you seek to dissuade me?”
“Perhaps, warn,” he murmured in her ear, the tip of his tongue circling the outer edges of her lobe.
Jemma shivered at the press of his lips against her neck. She moved her hand further down his stomach until it lay between his legs. She could feel his arousal beneath her fingertips. “I don’t believe that you are damned and cursed.” Her hand tightened and Nick’s chest rumbled with a soft growl. “I see I will have to convince you of the suitability of our match.”
“You are making an excellent start.” He pushed up against her. “Remember, I once told you that this was the wanting.”
“Yes, the wanting. I don’t believe it will ever go away.”
