“I shouldn’t fall apart like this,” she whispered.
“You don’t have to be strong for me,” he whispered. “I’m here for you, Alice.”
He almost added, ‘always’. But of course, that would not be true.
CHAPTER 11
Itfeltsogoodto have Nathaniel’s solid arms around her again. To feel protected. Cherished. Comforted. She had done without for so long she had almost forgotten. He held her, strong, steadfast, patient, while she fell apart. A hard, brittle shell she had built for herself was cracking, leaving her raw and tender. The barrage of emotion, too long suppressed, had caught her by surprise. Like a summer storm—no, more like a torrent of water that had escaped a dam, and was flooding everything in its path.
She cried for Clara, running scared and alone. The poor young woman had lost her husband and then her life. And then she thought of her own situation. How very alone she was. If she fell, who would catch her? Who would care for and comfort her? But when she had opened her door, Nathaniel had been here. As if summoned by her deepest need. And by some miracle, he’d caught her. He’d offered exactly what she needed.
It was an illusion, of course. Nothing had changed between them. She was still wholly unsuitable for the life he led now, as she had just reminded him. And he knew it too, for he had not indicated he wished to retract the divorce proceedings. Not even after they had given in to their desires at the club.
That must not happen again. This thing, whatever it was they were doing, was very unwise. Maybe he could have an affair and walk away unscathed after their mission, but if she continued to get involved, she would be shattered when it ended.
She had barely survived leaving him once. It had taken her years to achieve a semblance of stability without him. And then she had thrown it all overboard in a mere matter of days working with him.
She should be regretting this mission. It would have served her better if she had stood firm and rejected it. Oh, but she couldn’t really regret it now. Not while he was embracing her so tenderly, comforting her with his warmth. While he was being the same Nathaniel she knew and missed from before. It was scary how her body was melting into him. How she had fallen apart in his arms, and his mere presence was enough to hold her together.
Who was she fooling? There was no denying these feelings anymore. And if she was damned to suffer the consequences of her weakness anyway, she might as well enjoy the benefits while it lasted.
She tilted her head up, still within his embrace, and looked at him. She was prepared to beg, but she didn’t need to. Bringing his head down, he covered her mouth with his. Kissing her softly at first, then deepening the kiss until their lips were fused, their tongues mating. Until his lips mastered and subdued her, and they were breathing as one being.
She would have let him take her right there in the kitchen. Anything as long as he didn’t stop this enchantment he was weaving around her. Protecting her from the pain of the world.
It was he who pulled back. She protested with a moan and leaned in, capturing his mouth again, intent on maintaining this bliss for a little longer. He obliged, soothing her, cradling her face with his warm, strong hands.
“Easy now. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be here for as long as you need me.”
Forever?Because that’s how long she would need him. She could not imagine ever not needing him. But she knew she could not have him forever, so for now would have to be good enough.
She nodded, rocking back on her heels. Putting the smallest amount of distance between them.
“Why don’t you go and fill the bath? I’ll bring up the hot water.”
She nodded and left the kitchen, climbing the steps to the upper floor. Her footsteps were nearly silent on the narrow staircase, yet her heart thudded so loudly she was certain he would hear it from the kitchen below. She clutched the banister as she ascended, as if her fingers could anchor her to calm. The truth is, she needed a few moments to compose herself, and a bath sounded divine after the ordeal of the night. But there was no calm to be found—not after the press of Nathaniel’s lips against hers, the taste of him still lingering, smoky and dark like his favorite whisky.
Entering the bathing chamber adjacent to their bedchamber—for her it had always beentheirbedchamber, even if he hadn’t inhabited it in six years—she lit a small lamp and crossed to the large porcelain tub nestled in the corner.
Her hand trembled slightly as she turned the faucet, and a rush of cold water gurgled into the tub, splashing against the porcelain. She watched the flow, lost in the rhythmic sound, anduncorked a small glass vial from the shelf. A few drops of rose and sandalwood oil fell, blossoming like ghostly flowers on the surface. The scent unfurled around her—warm, heady, familiar.
Her fingers tightened around the vial. She ought to stop this. She should lock the door, finish her bath alone, and send Nathaniel on his way. But the truth—the treacherous, undeniable truth—was that she didn’t want to.
She wanted him. She wanted the weight of his hands, the heat of his body pressed to hers, the security of his arms around her. And yet…what then? She didn’t know, or rather, would not think about it. Perhaps she didn’t need a resolution now. Perhaps today could simply be theirs.
The door creaked, and she startled slightly as Nathaniel entered, carrying the heavy kettle in both hands. Steam curled above it, wreathing his head like a crown in the dim light. His gaze slid to her, dark and unreadable, but there was heat there—heat and something gentler, quieter, that unsettled her more than his desire ever could.
He knelt beside the tub, pouring the boiling water slowly into the growing pool. The scent of sandalwood deepened, mingling with the rising steam. Testing the water with his fingers, he nodded in satisfaction.
“I think you’ll find it perfect now,” he said softly, setting the kettle down.
Then he straightened and moved behind her, his hands light but sure as they settled on her shoulders, massaging softly. She stiffened at first, out of habit more than protest, but the warmth of his hands seeped into her, the gentle kneading coaxing her muscles to loosen.
“Do you need help with those buttons?” he asked, his breath grazing her temple.
Not really. She’d never employed a lady’s maid, so all her clothing was designed to be donned and removed without help. But he knew that. That wasn’t really what he was asking, was it?
“Yes,” she murmured, her voice quieter than she intended. Then, her heart pounding with reckless daring, she added, “But only if you’ll let me help you with yours as well.”
