“What’s wrong?” she asked, her eyes large and hazy with desire.
“Nothing.” Everything was wrong. Everything. He was a fool. He grasped the material of her shift, and this time he pulled it up and covered her. Then he took the blanket and dropped it over her shoulders. “That was a mistake.”
“Why?”
“I told you.”
“But I liked it. I liked you touching me.”
Nicholas clenched his hands to keep from dragging the blanket back down and touching her all over again.
“It was a mistake. It won’t happen again.”
“But—”
“Amelia, just eat now, yes? I’ll see you in the morning.”
And because he didn’t know what else to do, he limped into his room and then right through the outer door.
He closed it behind him, ignoring the sound of her voice as she called after him. Instead of waiting for her to come out and look for him, he shuffled along the corridor and ducked into the alcove where the door to another bedchamber was situated.
He stood there quietly for some time before he heard the door behind him open. He hadn’t thought of where he was going, so he assumed he’d see Florentia behind him. But it was Rafe.
“Well, hullo. I thought the house would be asleep,” he said, indicating Nicholas’s full dress.
Nicholas frowned at him. “Don’t tell me you planned to wander about.”
He shrugged. “A man can only spend so much time reading or staring out the window. At least I waited until everyone was asleep.” He narrowed his eyes. “Why aren’t you asleep? Or at the very least in bed? You have a bride to keep you entertained, do you not?”
Nicholas let out a frustrated sigh, and Rafe’s brows lifted. “You’d better come in.”
Nicholas would have refused, but where else was he to go? He couldn’t go back to his chamber. Not with Amelia there and only half dressed. “Just for a moment,” he said.
“Have a glass of wine, will you?”
Nicholas moved inside and closed the door behind him. Rafe’s chamber was in complete disarray. Clothes were strewn about, the bed was not made, and half a dozen books lay about on chairs or the floor. Three trays of half uneaten food were piled near the door. Seemingly unaware of Nicholas’s shock at the state of the room, Rafe crossed to a decanter of wine and poured two glasses. Nicholas doubted there had been wine in the room when Rafe arrived, and he wondered where it had come from.
Rafe handed him a glass, and Nicholas sipped it then pulled back and looked down. “This is very good. Where did you get it?”
“I have my sources.” Rafe smiled his charming smile, and even Nicholas found it difficult to be cross with him. “I’m sure you thought I would be gone by now,” Rafe said.
Nicholas shrugged. “It takes more than a week for interest in capturing a traitor to die down.”
Rafe winced. “I wish everyone would stop calling me a traitor. I didn’t betray my country.”
“Those who wanted to take the spy and daughter of the notorious French assassin Fortier into custody disagree.”
Rafe waved a hand. “Collette was only spying to keep her father alive. She never gave the French any information. This is all just a misunderstanding, and as much as I hate sea voyages, Boston is not half bad. It’s not London, but it’s not bad.” He pushed several garments onto the floor and sat in a chair. “Now, tell me how you have been. How is your wife? She’s very pretty and charming, except for her fondness for that pig.”
Nicholas felt a rush of blood go to his face. “What do you mean, pretty and charming?”
“Exactly what I said. And unclench your fists. I don’t have any designs on her. I’m a married man. Collette would murder me in my bed if I so much as looked twice at another woman.”
“Twice?”
Rafe nodded. “One can’t help but look once. I’m not dead, old boy.”
“Well, don’t look at Amelia. Or Florentia.”
“No plans to, but I will say that your wife seems to be alone more than I would expect a new bride to be.”
“I told you the circumstances of our marriage. It’s not a love match.”
“That doesn’t mean you can’t make the most of the circumstances. Or”—Rafe set his glass on a small unused space of a table—“are you not attracted to her?”
“I’m attracted to her,” Nicholas said, thinking of her lying on the bed just a short time ago. And then he was thinking about how he’d lowered her shift and touched her breast. He was definitely attracted to her.
“Is she not attracted to you then?”
Nicholas scowled. “How could she be?”
Rafe looked him up and down then raised a brow. “I’m no expert, but you seem attractive enough. You could do with smiling a bit more, and you might have your valet style your hair like this—” He rose and reached toward Nicholas’s head. Nicholas batted his hands away.
“It’s not my hair, you dolt.”
“Then what is it?”
Nicholas stared at him, his anger growing. Finally, Rafe said, “Oh. Your legs.”
“Yes, my legs. Would that I could forget the infirmity as easily as you.” He downed the rest of his glass and turned to go.
“It’s easy to forget. It doesn’t seem like much of an impediment for you.”
Nicholas looked back at him. “I assure you it is an impediment. I can’t ride. I can’t climb stairs. I can’t even sit for long periods of time.”
“What has any of this to do with your bride? Has she rejected you?”
Nicholas did not want to discuss this. On the other hand, it had built up inside him to the point where he felt he must say something to someone or burst. He slumped against the wall. “No, she hasn’t rejected me. But she will.”
“How do you know?”
“What do you mean? I know she will. Once she sees my injury, she’ll be disgusted and recoil.”
“It’s that bad?”
Nicholas nodded.
“You’re sure she hasn’t already seen? Even with the candles blown out—”
Nicholas shook his head. “She hasn’t seen. I haven’t...bedded her.” Nicholas stared at a point on the ceiling to avoid looking at Rafe’s face, but he heard him sputtering in disbelief.
“You haven’t taken your wife to bed? Because of your injury? Did the injury prevent you from, er—performing?”
Nicholas leveled a look at him. “No. My leg was shattered. My cock works just fine.”
Rafe seemed to consider this. “So your concern is she’ll see the scars and reject you.”
Nicholas didn’t answer. That was it, but he didn’t like having it spoken so boldly.
“Let me see.”
“What?” Nicholas started in surprise. “No.”
“Go on. Take off your trousers and let me see. I’ll tell you how bad it is. I’ll be honest.”
“I’m not taking my trousers off so you can gawk at me.”
“I can think of a thousand other things I’d rather gawk at, but I’m offering you my services as a friend. I’ve been in war and seen my share of wounds. I also think I have some notion of what women find attractive. If your leg is likely to send your bride screaming into the night, I’ll tell you straight.”