Page 12 of One Kiss in the Shadows (Singular Sensation #12)

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L ater that night

As lovely as the evening out at Vauxhall Gardens had been with his wife, a storm blew through London in the wee hours of the morning, bringing with it rain and growls of thunder and flashes of lightning.

Nathaniel turned over onto his side during one such flash as his muscles tensed and his pulse kicked up a bit. It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy a storm, it was merely that they reminded him of life on the battlefields, where every string of thunder was replaced with cannon fire in his mind and each jagged flash of lightning could have been gunfire or the reflection of light on a bayonet blade.

It was a most uncomfortable feeling. Closing his eyes, he concentrated on the feel of his breathing, on the sound of his heartbeat in an effort to calm himself and to not let himself be lost in a nightmare. Just when he had almost drifted to sleep, a sound that was quite misplaced in the quiet of the night reached his ears. As he listened again, the cry came once more, and on the heels of it, Mallory called out his name, propelled through the darkness with fear in the tone.

Immediately, he struggled into a sitting position and swung his legs over the side of the bed. When she called his name again, softer this time, Nathaniel slipped off the piece of furniture. He slept in the nude, and didn’t think anything of it as he crossed the floor to the door, wincing with each step since he’d left his cane behind. The second he opened the door, his gaze fell upon his wife, who was wandering the corridor. Clad in her shift, she resembled a ghost in the darkness.

“Mallory?”

Her eyes were large in the gloom. “Nathaniel.” She hastened her steps until she reached his doorway.

With a tight chest, he held out a hand to her. “What’s wrong. Has something happened? Has someone broken in?”

“No. Nothing like that.” She shook her head, and her loose locks tumbled over her shoulders and back in a brown waterfall. “It’s just... I don’t like storms.”

“That’s understandable. They aren’t my favorite thing either.”

She nodded. “Uh, the people in charge at the asylum sometimes would put us outside during storms, tie us to trees to see if we were strong enough to survive the elements.” Her voice wavered. “Their reasoning was that building up courage in the face of terror would somehow ‘heal’ our minds.” A half-stifled cry escaped her. “I was so frightened and thought I might die the few times they put me out in them.”

What the hell? Shock slammed into his chest. “But there is nothing wrong with your mind.” Not that it mattered. That was no way to treat anyone, and in the rage that rose through his form, he wanted to go back out to that asylum and beat the stuffing out of everyone who’d dared to put her in danger or make her afraid.

When another roll of thunder echoed through the air, Mallory startled. She was visibly upset, with her eyes luminous and nearly crying in her fright.

“Come with me.” The second she slipped her fingers into his palm, he closed his hand around hers and tugged her into his bedchamber then closed the door. Without another word, he encouraged her onto the bed. Once he lay down next to her, Nathaniel bundled her into his arms and covered them both with the sheet as the sound of the drumming rain filled the space. “You’re safe and you’re free, Mallory. I won’t let any harm come to you,” he whispered against her temple. She felt all too good in his arms, and he rather liked how snugly her curves pressed against his angles. Interest shivered through his length.

“You must think me a ninny.” With each word, the warmth of her breath skated along the side of his neck.

“Absolutely not. We cannot control what we are afraid of, or what it brings out in us. The best we can do is try to fight it so it doesn’t take over our lives.” For long moments, while the thunder growled and lightning flickered behind the drawn drapes at the window, he held her, hoping his presence would bring her calm. “I won’t say that you’ll ever fully forget what happened to you at that place, but eventually you’ll make new memories, happy memories, that will help to keep the horrid ones at bay.”

The pedestrian glance of her fingertips as she edged a hand up his torso caused his muscles to tighten and his breath to still. “I hope so.” Then she drew abstract designs over his shoulder, and it was both exciting and agonizing. “Is that what happened with you in the military?”

“Somewhat, though I’ve been left with nightmares and at times, day terrors.” He certainly didn’t wish to speak of it in this moment. “It has been quite the recovery since I came from the war. Sometimes, the memories are as real to me as if they happened yesterday; in others, it seems a lifetime, and there are times I’m lost to all of them.”

“It must be difficult to live with.”

“Yes, but there are ways I can manage, which means spending much time alone.”

“I’m sorry. That sounds counterintuitive.” When she blew out a breath, it tickled the hairs on his chest. “Being alone oftentimes makes things worse. I should know.” Another waver set up in her voice. “Ten years of being mostly alone, except for my cat midway through the prison sentence tends to make one very reflective and wary of letting anyone into their life.”

“I know how that feels, and I’m sorry about what happened to you.” He held her a smidgeon closer. It would be all too easy to become drunk on her—the feeling of her skin against his, the floral scent of her in his nose, how vulnerable she was, which triggered his own. “Neither of us deserved what life gave us, yet we must make the best of it.”

The fingers of one of her hands delved into the hair at his nape. It was both soothing and invigorating. “But we’re here now, and that time is over for us both. I hope.”

Nathaniel slipped a hand down her back, following her spine, and the heat of her skin seeping through the thin lawn of her shift lit fires in his blood. “Yes, but your mother is still out there. She hates us both, and will no doubt have one of her minions try to hurt us again soon.”

For a long while, they lay in silence while the storm came over London proper. With each rumble and flash, his wife clung to him. Eventually, she spoke again.

“I’ve never had anyone in my life believe in me as you do. Never has anyone cared like you do, and sometimes I am afraid this new life I’ve found with you might be yanked away.”

Well, knowing what sort of a person her mother was, that was entirely possible. “I understand.” He was becoming all too accustomed to having her around, coming all too close to falling for her, but wouldn’t that be a disaster? Wasn’t he better off alone?

Especially now?

There were no easy answers, but he’d had one of the best nights of his life with her at the opera and walking through Vauxhall Gardens, and that had come on the heels of taking her to bed for the first time. Additionally, she was always in his library, soaking up knowledge like a sponge, which improved her conversational skills. Add that to her natural affinity for compassion, and he was utterly enchanted by her.

During the next swath of silence, Mallory began to tentatively explore his body, and he let her, for she had been kept from everything a young woman should have known... except her innocent touches and caresses sent shivering need through him. When she pressed her lips to his shoulder, his upper chest and her fingers danced along his abdomen, he was certain he would soon be separated from his sanity.

At the next rumble of thunder, she whimpered.

“Shh, you are safe.” Wanting to help, he urged Mallory onto her back. When she rested her hands on his shoulders and stared up at him with her eyes luminous with tears, some of his reserve broke. Unable to help himself, he claimed her lips in a kiss to help block out some of the noise for her. Never did he think he would be capable of being as gentle and tender as he was with her now, but the vulnerability and fright in her brought out his protective instincts. He wanted to take care of her, convince her that all would be well, that there was nothing to fear.

For long moments, he contented himself with merely kissing her, for her lips were soft and welcoming, and so velvety plush. The faint sounds of enjoyment she made added to the mood he tried to set, and in her he found the elusive peace he’d sought since exiting the war with his injuries and nightmares. In her he was able to rest and know that he was safe just as she was. No longer did he think she might be a Trojan horse sent by her mother to disrupt his friends.

She pressed feather-weighted kisses beneath his jaw, and each drag of her lips on his skin was as close as he’d ever been to heaven. Wanting to reciprocate, Nathaniel slipped his hands up and down her sides then eventually cupped her modest breasts through the fabric of her shift. A shiver ran through her body; a gasp escaped her when he teased her nipples into stiff peaks with the pads of his thumbs. Her back arched, and she wriggled closer to him. As he continued to tease and torment her breasts, his wife drew abstract patterns on his back or traced some of his scars, but she didn’t ask about them and he didn’t offer information.

There were other times to introduce those subjects.

When he needed more of her, he put his hands beneath her shift to glide over her satiny skin while continuing to kiss her. Those lips were far too addictive; he would never have enough of them. Nothing was spoken between them; they didn’t need words. There was none to give, in any event. There was only them in that moment that was filled with heated sighs, soft skin, acute sensations, and intense arousal. What the future held for them, he didn’t know, perhaps he didn’t need to know right now. It was enough to enjoy this novel feeling of safety in the midst of the storm.

God, it was a weird juxtaposition.

Hands fingers were seemingly everywhere, exploring, soothing, ramping desire. In a twinkling, he removed the shift from her form then set to work acquainting himself with it. The more he was busy with exploring his wife’s body, the less he thought about the thunder, and she didn’t appear to hold on to so much fear as she had earlier. For her part, she had the power to make him a quivering, pleading mess each time she caressed his engorged length or lightly squeezed his stones. She was more than a quick study in the bedroom arts, but that timid innocence that still surrounded her was more addicting than if she’d been a courtesan.

Nearly out of his mind with passion, Nathaniel settled between her legs widening them with a knee. She made no protest, only held him close, kissing whatever part of him she could reach. Damn but he wanted to taste her, bring her to release with his mouth, but there would be time enough for that too, later. Instead, he took his time teasing a nipple with his tongue, lips, and teeth, which pulled a soft moan from her. When she slid a hand down his back to his arse and squeezed a buttock, digging her nails into his skin, that pinprick of pain enhanced his arousal and hurled him against the point of no return.

At the next flash of lightning, she opened her eyes, looked at him in the dark, and the stark need and desire in those blue pools matched his own. With a groan, he kissed her again and aligned his tip with her drenched entrance. Her hand at his nape urged him closer ever so slightly with permission and urgency. It was that enthusiasm and her affinity for carnal endeavors even after everything that had been done to her that pulled him down into the heady, lusty world with her.

Keeping the bulk of his weight on his forearms, Nathaniel penetrated her, claimed her, irrevocably joined them, and her snug passage gave him the welcome he’d waited for all his life. Just like the last time they’d shared intercourse, he marveled over how one person could so deeply affect another, and now they weren’t quite the strangers they had been before. In her, he was coming to believe that he could finally grasp everything he’d been too cowardly to dream while he’d hated himself for being a broken man.

For a few seconds, he enjoyed the sensations of being embedded in her honeyed heat. Then he nuzzled the crook of her shoulder, rolled a nipple, then began to move within her. In the dark as they rode the storm, he taught her how to move her hips to meet his strokes, showed her how he liked to be touched that would bring maximum pleasure, changed his position slightly so that the root of his length rubbed over her swollen button to further send her closer to the edge.

In those moments when the world fell away and only they two existed, they shared secrets in the silence that only lovers knew. At some point, he held her hands with his, entwined their fingers as he pressed them to the pillows at her head, and still he moved, rocking her body gently, claiming her with the same gentleness as he’d given her the whole of the night. Her soft sounds spurred him onward, as did the trace of tears on her cheeks. Was she frightened of the storm? Of him? Or were they tears of joy?

If only she would tell him.

When she wrapped her legs about his waist and locked her ankles at the small of his back, he went ever deeper, and quickly, urgency demanded he finish. Nathaniel increased his strokes while keeping the coupling about her so she would feel comforted and protected. He wanted her to know that he’d meant every damned word he’d said to her—nothing would harm her. Completely lost in her, in what they were creating that blocked out the storm, he released one of her hands only to slide his between them. As he found the button at her center, he bedeviled it with a bit of friction until she was nearly gone and writhing beneath him. God, she was beautiful, like a goddess. From his next stroke as well as the continuing friction at her nubbin, she went over the edge. While her body stiffened and she sucked in a breath, he brought his mouth crashing down on hers, and he took her cry into himself with another kiss, because he wanted it solely for himself.

In this, he truly was a selfish buggar, yet he suspected it was far more than that. Some other time he could spend unraveling his thoughts and feelings.

One last thrust had him joining her in release, for the contractions in her core pulled him with her. It was pure bliss this coupling with a woman he shouldn’t want, shouldn’t have ever married, but in this he felt as if she understood some of what he battled with because she’d been in those trenches too. Life had given them both horrendous challenges, but they had overcome them in their own ways, even if there were nightmares still. When he came inside her, never had he spent so hard or so violently, and nothing had ever felt as wonderful as spilling that seed, sharing it with her.

Would it eventually result in a child? He had no way of knowing, but now the thought of having a babe in their midst filled him with warm joy. As Mallory held him close while their bodies heaved together and their breathing regulated, it was he who was overcome with emotion this time. Moisture filled his eyes; he wasn’t worthy of her, yet here they were, married and without scandal as they found comfort in each other’s bodies. The storm outside moved slowly away as his tumultuous thoughts and memories inside calmed. They didn’t share words even now, for they’d both said what they’d needed to within the carnal exercise. What they’d just shared had been so sacred, he didn’t know how to describe what he felt deep inside beyond the physical repletion.

And damn, it had been one of the most beautiful things he’d ever experienced.

“Dear God,” he whispered against the side of her neck. “That was wonderful.” Nathaniel fell to his side and took her with him, bundled her in his arms as the storm’s noise and strength faded even more.

“I rather think I’m coming to adore you, Strathfield,” Mallory managed to murmur before brushing her lips against his. In the next moment, she burrowed into his arms. “And I want to do this again, quite soon.” With a sigh, she smiled, and he felt the gesture against the base of his throat. In the next moment, before he could respond, she drifted off to sleep.

For long minutes afterward, he simply held her, listened to the evenness of her breathing as she slept. With his own eyelids heavy and his body satisfied with a pleasant lethargy, he ruled against removing her from his bed to hers. Besides, he still wanted her close, for in her company with her arms around him, lending him her strength, he wondered if she would keep his nightmares at bay.

His eyes drifted closed. That was a ponderance for another time. As the carriage-style clock on the mantel in his room softly chimed the three o’clock hour, he let loose a sigh and let his body relax. Eventually, slumber was upon him, and for the first time in a long while, he didn’t need to fight for sleep.

How very odd.