11. Loss and Betrayal

LOSS AND BETRAYAL

N aomi read over the words she'd written on the familiar pages of her journal and then closed the book so she could prepare for bed. She'd written that woman's name beside Arthur's.

Bridget.

There would come a time when it would cease to have the ability to hurt her. Luke's companionship was already dulling the stabbing sensation of betrayal, but even he could not erase what had happened.

It weighed as a great disappointment.

She had taken vows with Arthur. She'd given him her promise—to love him, to keep him, to honor him—and even though he hadn't followed through with his, she'd had every intention of honoring hers.

And she would love their child—her child, regardless of what he'd done.

She drew her night rail out of the wardrobe and groaned. Some of her troubles would not be resolved for possibly years to come, but for now, she faced a far more pressing one. That of undressing herself.

If either she or Ester had taken a moment to consider such a mundane matter, Naomi would have worn a gown that fastened up the front. But in Ester's concern for her niece, and Naomi's haste to reassure her that she'd be just fine alone, neither of them had considered such a dilemma.

She reached her hands behind her but, after less than a minute of fumbling, her arms were already beginning to ache. The small stays she wore, along with the fact that her bodice fit more tightly than it had a few months before, would make sleeping like this most uncomfortable.

But then the sound of footsteps in the corridor reminded her that Luke was here, and she could ask him for assistance.

Not that she required reminding of his proximity. She was all too aware…

After cooking a simple stew together, they'd lingered at the table, sharing anecdotes of their childhoods as well as those of their siblings. Luke loved his family most ardently, and she'd admitted to the same. They'd remained in the kitchen until long after dark, and afterwards, while Naomi tended to the cleaning up, Luke had gone outside to check on the animals in the barn. He was just now returning.

She ought to feel strange, having him here. She ought to be concerned at how seamlessly he fit into her life.

He was the son of a duke, a major in the British Army. He'd be required to return to the conflict soon. Before that, he was going to want to go home to see his brother and sisters.

Bending her arms back behind her head, Naomi grasped for the fasteners, and then when that didn't work, she tried to reach around her back again. It seemed even more impossible on this attempt. Of all the ways she was going to have to become independent, she'd already failed at this.

Gah!

"Luke?" she cried out.

When he didn't answer, she padded barefoot across the floor and opened her door. At the same time, he opened his from across the hall. Obviously far more adept at undressing himself, he already wore only his breeches. The sight of smooth, silky-looking skin stretched across his chest and torso reminded her of the day he'd been working on the porch. How they'd flexed beneath his linen shirt when he lifted the hammer and strained when he'd twisted to catch her watching him.

Her breath whooshed out of her lungs, leaving her speechless.

What kind of woman was she that she had an almost irresistible urge to lick that smooth skin?

To lick him? Oh, but wait, she'd already done that when she'd thrown herself at him earlier this afternoon.

"Did you need something, Naomi?" A smirk hovered on his lips. Lips that she'd tasted and that she knew to be both soft and firm.

It was almost as though he was reading her thoughts. He really was far too skilled at doing that. Not only did he seem to know what she was thinking, but what she was feeling as well. Or perhaps she was just abysmal at hiding anything from him.

"Um." What had she needed him for? Aside from… "I can't unfasten my gown."

Blurting out the request sounded far more suggestive then when she'd practiced it in her mind.

Judging by the flare in those cornflower blue eyes gazing back at her, her request sounded equally inappropriate to him.

"Ester usually…"

"Of course." But his throat pulsed as he swallowed hard.

Perhaps having him stay here overnight wasn't such a good idea after all.

She dropped her lashes and stared at his bare feet as he came closer. Slim, elegant, masculine. Noticing the smattering of almost imperceptible hairs on his toes seemed oddly more intimate than staring at his chest.

She turned to present her back to him and lifted her hands to the nape of her neck so she could first unpin the low knot, allowing him access to the top of her garment. As her hair came free, she lifted the heavy strands, assuring herself that she'd had no choice in this matter. Furthermore, this wasn't nearly as inappropriate as if she'd asked him to assist her with this in her bedchamber.

She held herself steady, holding the hair higher on her head as the floorboards creaked behind her. Even if she hadn't been able to hear him, she no doubt would have felt his approach. Whenever the distance closed between the two of them, her body came alive in a uniquely unnerving manner.

His fingers whispered at the back of her neck as he unfastened the top, and she shivered. "Are you cold?" His hand settled onto her shoulder and the urge to turn and curl herself into him nearly overpowered her.

"A little," she answered. The weather had turned colder outside; in fact, at night now, the window in her chamber often rattled with the chill wind that had arrived. Autumn would soon become winter, then Christmas would be here, and before she knew it, she'd be counting the twelve nights.

A new year.

She lowered one hand to the top of her swollen abdomen. A new life. Less than two months remained by her estimations.

Luke went back to work on her gown, and the fabric loosened. She wore short stays over her chemise but her petticoats no longer fit over her belly. Still, Luke wouldn't have even a glimpse of her skin.

What would he do if she dropped the gown? She chastised herself for considering it.

Which she wasn't, really.

"Do you need help with this?" His fingertips grazed just above the thick fabric of the stays.

"It ties in the front."

What there was of it. She'd refrained from wearing her normal stays right after Arthur disappeared. As in literally, the moment he was out of sight, she'd found Ester and declared that she couldn't wear them one minute longer.

But she'd wanted to look her best to bid her husband farewell.

The thought that he'd spent his last night in England with another woman… Was that true as well? She would likely never know.

It didn't matter. He was gone.

"Do you want me to build a fire for you?" He rubbed his hands up and down her arms. As she was coming to appreciate all too fondly, his touch felt heavenly. Naomi released the hair she'd been holding up and relaxed into him. Oh, but if she allowed him into her bedchamber, she doubted she'd let him out.

"I'll be warm enough." More than warm enough if the flush coursing through her lasted even a portion of the night.

Something had changed between them; barriers had broken after that kiss on the side of the road—and of course, the matter of her climbing on top of him in her bedchamber.

But it was more than that. She blushed and dismissed the embarrassing scene from earlier.

"Do you feel betrayed by him too?" She'd wondered. Was Luke also disappointed in Arthur or did men take this sort of thing in stride?

He didn't answer right away.

"Not the same as you." His breath warmed the side of her neck. "But he lied to his comrades. He allowed us to believe he was clear-headed—focused. And I can't help but believe that he might have been distracted—that it's possible he was vulnerable because of the problems he'd made for himself at home. His vulnerabilities affected our unit. He could have come clean with me at any point, and I might have realized he wasn't the best person for that particular mission. Were there signs that I missed? Could his death, could the loss of five men have been prevented? I hate everything he did to you. It was unforgivable. But I'm also sick that I didn't realize he was hiding it. If I'd known he was distracted, I might not have sent him out that day."

It wasn't the answer she'd expected.

"I didn't think about that."

"We train, we plan, and we strategize. But in the end, it often comes down to listening to your gut instinct. And that involves alerting all of your senses. It might be too quiet, for instance. Or a branch snaps when it shouldn't. The ground is softer or harder than it ought to be. And it's your responsibility, your duty, to put all of that together and decide if the territory is safe."

"And that was Arthur's job?"

"It was his job but my responsibility."

"You can't do everything, Luke." He would feel guilt over the ambush for a long time, though. He was that sort of man.

He slid his arms down her shoulders and settled them around her, just below her breasts. "I tell myself that all the time."

"You need to listen to yourself. You're very wise."

He kissed the side of her face for that. "Wise, eh?" And then, after exhaling a deep sigh, he released her and stepped away, though his voice retained a teasing lightness. "I had no idea you held me in such high esteem, my lady."

She snickered and glanced over her shoulder. "Goodnight, Luke."

"Goodnight, Naomi."