“Whatever I did, it was never enough,” he said. “What was worse was that my mother was so desperate to earn his affection that she would agree with whatever he did or said. As I got older, she began to blame me when he left for days on end. If only I was better, if only I was perfect, if only—”
He cut himself off because he realized his hands were shaking as he spoke these words he had never let be said out loud. His throat felt tight and his lungs burned. Abigail reached for him, taking his hands in both of hers as she scooted to the front of the chair and held his gaze.
And there was peace. He looked into her eyes and found peace there. Which only made him love her all the more, not that he had ever thought that possible.
“You were a child,” she whispered. “It was unfair of her to place such a burden on your shoulders.”
“Yes,” he said. “But I took it. And I took it even more when she started to turn that sharpness onto Ophelia. I stepped in front of my sister, tried to be the shield between her and the failings of them both.”
“How old were you?” she asked as her fingers traced gentle patterns on the top of his hand.
“Sixteen,” he said. “Ophelia was five.”
Her expression collapsed slightly. “Oh, Nathan.”
He nodded. “I learned to be dependable out of self-preservation. For me, for my sister. And then, when I was twenty-two…they died.”
“In an accident,” she said softly. When he pulled back in surprise, she shrugged. “If you looked into my past, you cannot be angry that I did a little of the same with yours. The surface story is that they were in a carriage accident during bad weather in Scotland.”
“They were both drunk,” he muttered. “They’d taken some trip there to rekindle the flame. Occasionally she could convince him to do so. But they’d been seen arguing loudly at an inn. Whatever the truth of how that day ended, the only thing that mattered is that neither survived.”
“You were so young to take on such responsibility.”
“Yes,” he agreed. “His title and his mistakes were slung around my neck. An albatross, if I let them be. Not to mention I was now guardian to an eleven-year-old girl who had been through a great deal in her short life. She’d already begun to go wild.” He laughed softly. “Sometimes she still is.”
That elicited a smile from Abigail. “Ophelia is charming and unfettered. She isn’t that wild.”
“Because she’s on what is, regretfully, her best behavior as she’s tried to defend me,” he insisted with an arched brow. He shook his head. “So that is my great, terrible history. The secrets I never told anyone else. Perhaps because they weren’t all that terrible after all.”
She held his hands tighter. “You say that now, but I can tell how much these things pained you, Nathan. What happened wasn’t fair. You didn’t deserve to have such selfish, irresponsible parents.”
Those words sank into him. Into his heart. Into the places where he had tried to shove away the fear and uncertainty of his growing up. “Thank you,” he said softly. “I did what needed to be done to get through it all. But I hope knowing this helps you understand the worst parts of me. The parts I know you do not like.”
She wrinkled her brow. “That I don’t like?”
“If I am sometimes cold, if I sometimes reacted baldly to our shared past…it is because I abhor the kind of damage that kind of irresponsibility can create. I don’t think that excuses what I’ve done, but I am trying to do…better, though. To be a better man in the future.”
She stared at him for so long, he momentarily thought she hadn’t understood him, but then she got up and sank down into his lap. She wrapped her arms around his neck.
“Let me explain something to you, Your Grace. If there is anything I know about you, Nathan, it is that you are dependable. That may not seem the most romantic notion on the surface, but it very much is if you’ve never expected it. I had bad parents, as well as a bounder of a first husband. So you are…you are a lovely dream after a terrible nightmare. And I don’t dislike you for any of those things.”
He gazed into her eyes for a moment, feeling her discomfort with this closeness, with these admissions, but also the deep truth of them. He gave a half smile. “Had I known that painful honesty was all it took to get you to compliment me, I would have done it months ago.”
She laughed, her expression lighting up. “Oh don’t worry, I do have a great, long list of your faults, too.”
“I cannot wait to hear them,” he said with false solemnity.
She sighed before she cupped his cheeks and then leaned in. Just before her lips found his, she whispered, “Thank you for telling me.”
The kiss was feather-light at first. A gentle comfort, a quiet understanding. But as it went on, the tension it created began to grow. He flexed his fingers against her hip, she began to lightly grind down in his lap, she opened her mouth and allowed him to taste her.
They were both short of breath when she pulled away. “Now you promised to remove this gown with your teeth.” She stood up and drew him to his feet. “So I expect you to deliver.”
She backed toward the bed, eyes bright with desire, but also a need to connect with him. And as he caught her waist and drew her to him for another deep kiss, he hoped that they were inching closer to the moment where the barriers between them came down. Where he could love her openly and without frightening her away…and where maybe, just maybe, she could love him in return.
Abigail had doubted that one could remove such a beautiful gown with just teeth, and yet Nathan never failed to surprise her. He’d done it. But then he could surprise her with a look, with a touch or with the honesty with which he’d told her of his past. She understood so much more about him now.
And the parts of him that had been broken by the past called out to the parts of her that had endured something similar.
Right now, though, she didn’t want to think about that. Right now she just wanted to touch him, especially since he’d removed all of his clothes after removing hers.
She crooked her finger and he joined her beside the bed, catching her by the waist, molding her naked body to his. When he kissed her, she relaxed against him. When he touched her, it was like coming home. She pressed her mouth to his shoulder, licking and nipping at his flesh. He hissed out a breath and cupped her backside, massaging there, grinding her pelvis to his and letting her feel the press of his hard cock against her belly.
She glided a hand between them and caught it, stroking it while she continued to nuzzle his shoulders, his collarbone, his throat.
“You are playing with fire,” he rasped.
“Then burn me,” she murmured in reply.
He jerked his head back and stared down at her. Then he lifted her to lean her against the edge of the bed. He pushed her legs apart and she trembled. He aligned their bodies and she moaned. Fast and hard, he thrust into her, but there was no resistance. She was ready for him. Always ready for him.
He thrust, digging his hand into her hair and tilting her head back so he could take her mouth as he took her body. She lifted against him, seeking pleasure, finding it so easily, like it was always there waiting for her.