His hands tightened on hers. She wanted to throw her arms around him.
“I don’t know how I’m supposed to go on,” she confessed. “I feel like I’m carrying this massive wound, bleeding everywhere, but no one can see it but me. How am I to marry a man I hardly know and bea wife? He’ll know I’m not pure.”
His throat bobbed as he swallowed. “You are everything that is pure and good in this world. The right man won’t care about your past.”
He didn’t understand. The idea of laying with a man now revolted her. What man would want her now? “I can’t even think about... Oh, Tristan. I’m so broken. Who’s going to want to marry me? I can’t be a wife, not now. I can barely be in a room alone with a man without my heart beating through my chest. How will I...”
She couldn’t say it. She couldn’t have intimacies with a man. She would not be able to perform her wifely duties. All she knew was the pain she’d felt. The helpless terror. The weakness of her own body when she’d needed to fight.
“I’m so scared. I’ll never be able to let a man touch me, not even my husband.”
“You let me touch you, Flick,” he said. “I’m touching you right now.”
She wanted to melt into his embrace. He didn’t see himself like she did. He might be dark and brooding, the elusive spy of the Black Widow of Whitehall, but he was also a brother, a son, her hero in so many ways he might never understand. “You’re different.”
He lightly snorted. “I’m no different than any other man.”
“That isn’t true. When you touch me, it feels... like comfort. Like I’ve always known you. I know in every part of me you won’t hurt me. I’ve never felt that before. When other men touch me, I have to brace myself.”
His eyes searched her face. “Flick . . .”
She’d said too much and made him uncomfortable now. “I’m sorry. I’m burdening you with all this and—”
“Don’t ever say that. You could never be a burden to me. But I’m afraid I won’t say the right thing. I don’t want to cause you more hurt. I’m honored you can trust me and that my touch doesn’t disgust you.”
Felicity smiled. She lowered her hands, and he caught them in his. The warmth of his hands was so lovely. She wanted to be cradled like this.
“Tell me what you need. Tea? To scream? To punch something? I’ll let you punch me if it will make you feel better.”
Felicity bit her lip. “Will you hold me?” With his arms around her, she’d have all that warmth surrounding her.
His teasing smile faded. “You want me to hold you?”
Felicity nodded. “Please, but if it is too much, you don’t have to.”
Tristan stood and sat beside her. “Like this?” He put his arm around her shoulders.
Felicity leaned into his warmth. Her body felt cold, like in telling him her darkest secret, she’d carved out herself. She felt better, but empty. His body was so much stronger than hers, and yet it didn’t frighten her. She wanted to surround herself with that strength. To feel safe inside his embrace.
“Will you lie down?”
He stilled, then slowly he pulled his arm back and shifted on the bed, leaning back against the spindle headboard. His uncertainty was written all over his face, but for once Felicity felt confident about this. She wanted to lay beside him to absorb his heat and let it thaw out her frozen soul. She hadn’t hugged or held another person since the evening before Chadwick ruined her. Georgiana had curled up with her and read a book. Her mother had sat behind her, running a brush through her hair. She missed them so much.
Felicity scooted to his side, lowering her head to his chest and placing her hand on his upper abdomen. His arm came around her again, his hand curving over her shoulder, and Felicity closed her eyes. This was right. This was perfect. This was the worst thing she could be doing in her situation, but she’d gladly be damned to hell before she stopped. She needed to feel this.
She needed him.
He set his other hand over hers. “Your hands are cold,” he said.
“My whole body feels cold. Like I’m trapped in ice.”
He rubbed her hand and her shoulder.
“Are you sure this is what you want?”
Yes.But she wanted more. She’d kissed him, and that single kiss had left her longing for something she didn’t think she could ever feel again. The warmth she’d felt from his lips, his hands, it had spread through her, melting her fears and worries, left her basking in warm beams of sunlight.
The moment had come so suddenly, she couldn’t explain what had given her the courage to do it. But she’d done it. As much as she knew she should, Felicity couldn’t bring herself to regret it. She’d done the right thing all her life, been a dutiful daughter, faithful to her father’s teachings. But then those same teachings had turned against her. What was right? What was wrong?
