“I hear you.” Mattie caressed her back. “We’d get some strange looks if I turn up to work tomorrow with you still attached to me though.”
Nell laughed softly and peppered kisses on Mattie’s collarbone. Her skin tasted faintly of salt, and her scent that was uniquely her. “We do fit, you and me,” she whispered. “You’ve turned my world upside down.”
“You’ve done the same to mine.”
Nell’s heart brimmed at the wonder she heard in Mattie’s voice. “Can I ask you something?”
“Go on.”
Nell hesitated briefly. “Has anyone else seen your scars?” When Mattie’s whole body tensed, she added quickly, “I’m not jealous. Just curious as to why you refuse to let me see them.” All of that was true, but it niggled that Mattie still refused to show them to her. They were lovers, for heaven’s sake, and did all sorts of intimate things to each other.
Mattie stilled. “Shona and Lisa have,” she said quietly. “I stayed with them after I came out of hospital. Being a doctor, Shona was well used to irritable patients, and believe me, I was an A-star pain in the neck. My injuries needed dressing and creams applied for the first few weeks, which was impossible to do myself because I’m not a contortionist.” She shuddered. “I don’t like seeing or touching them, so why would anyone else?”
“Because they’re part of who you are.”
Mattie’s chin jutted forward against Nell’s ribcage. “I won’t have my lover or my friends pity me.”
Her almost childish defiance caused something to twist deep inside Nell. “I don’t pity you, Mattie.” She shuffled so that she could tilt Mattie’s face and look into her eyes. “Admire, yes. Desire, very much. But pity? No, never that.”
Mattie unclenched her jaw and gave a slight but perceptible nod.
Nell kissed her, gently and unhurried, hoping her lips would reassure her. What would it take to persuade Mattie to feel comfortable enough to be totally naked with her? She sighed.“We need to check out in an hour. I suppose we ought to get up and have a shower and pack. Not that I want to.”
Mattie tucked a lock of hair behind Nell’s ear. “Can we do this again soon?”
“Yes please.”
“When?”
Nell sighed as she ran through potential dates. She had to cover a few weekend shifts, so it would be the end of November before she was free. And then a month after that was Christmas. Was it too soon to float the idea of Mattie spending it with her in Devon? What a stunning change that’d be from enduring the stifling traditional festivities at her childhood home with her parents and their conservative opinions. Ducking out of it would require some explaining. That would be one way of coming out to everybody. Her stomach clenched at the thought. That was something to worry about later. “We could come back to Bath again. Or would you like to explore somewhere else?”
“How about Oxford?”
Nell couldn’t catch her breath all of a sudden. She rolled off Mattie and lay on her back. “No.”
Mattie rolled onto her side and propped her head against her elbow. “You look appalled. What do you have against the dreaming spires?”
“Everything.” The answer slipped out before she could catch it.Damn. Now she’d have to explain. She took a deep breath. “I lived in Oxford when I was married.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“Why would you?” Nell tried to tamp down her edginess at the unexpected intrusion into her past.
“Does he still live there?”
Nell sat up against the pillows and pulled the duvet up so it covered her chest. “I don’t know, and I have no desire to find out.”
Mattie’s eyes widened. It was difficult to tell if that was in response to what Nell had said, or how she’d said it. Given that she’d barked like a snarling dog, it was probably the latter.
Nell took a deep breath and willed herself to speak more calmly. “It’d be like trying to cross a minefield, expecting an explosion any second. I don’t think I could relax. It’s a shame, because I used to love the city.”
Mattie smiled. “I can imagine you being beside yourself with all of that stunning architecture on your doorstep.”
“I’ve got a notebook full of sketches. The Ashmolean Museum, Christ Church Cathedral, St George’s Tower. You name it, I drew it.” It’d been her salvation, a safe place during a confusing and lonely time in her life.
“Would you like to at least visit? If you could be sure that he wouldn’t be there?”
“I don’t know.” She dropped her head in her hands. How could she explain that, even a decade on, she questioned every choice she made because of him, and that she continually needed to remind herself that he’d been the one at fault and not her? It sounded so weak and pathetic. “I don’t want to dredge up the past all over again.”
