Chapter 12

12

London wasdark beyond the window when Calliope followed Nathaniel into his bedchamber after dinner.

Her skin prickled as she watched the muscles of his broad shoulders move under his navy coat as he lit tallow candles in the candelabra standing on the round table. The door slowly swung shut behind her, and he turned to her, his angled features so handsome in the golden candlelight, her heart could break.

His high cheekbones looked even sharper in this light, his gorgeous eyes surrounded by long, curly eyelashes like clear pools. His strong, straight nose, full, wide lips and angular jawline were all such perfection one could paint countless masterpieces inspired by him. A high cravat was wrapped around his long, thick neck that swept down into the broad, manly shoulders with muscles like boulders. Did he have real flesh under his clothing or artfully carved marble?

Calliope’s throat was dry, her lips parched. His gaze was dark and piercing, as though he was attempting to get under her skin, to uncover her soul and all her secrets.

“May I offer you some wine?” he asked.

She’d already had two glasses at dinner, and usually that was all she allowed herself. But her feet were weak, and she didn’t like how she couldn’t stop clutching her hands and picking at her cuticles. Anything to relieve that tight knot at the base of her stomach.

“Please,” she said.

While he poured the wine, her gaze darted to the large bed standing on the other side of the room. Grandiose in its design, the bed had intricately carved posts that ascended towards a richly detailed canopy. The canopy’s faded blue silk curtains and the counterpane of the same color whispered of bygone eras, their once-vibrant patterns now mere shadows. The bed seemed as though it might have been crafted during the days of his father or even his grandfather, an heirloom passed down with the house.

In addition to the bed, there were two night tables with a few stacked books, which made Calliope curious. A small door in the opposite wall probably led to his dressing room. There was a fireplace with cracked paint and an old black grate, which was now cold and empty.

Besides that, there was nothing in the room.

Like all of the other rooms, this one’s pitiful state was apparent, but Calliope could see its former grandeur so clearly. She’d have the paneled walls painted in turquoise, but a darker, duskier tone than Nathaniel’s eyes. And she’d put golden drapes and a golden counterpane on that glorious bed, and many pillows. She’d refresh the tired wooden floor, and get a large, plush carpet so that stepping on it with one’s bare feet would be a pleasure.

What paintings would he like? Trying to remember if he ever mentioned the sort of things he was interested in, she narrowed her eyes at Nathaniel, who approached her with a small carved-crystal glass holding red port wine. His fingers brushed lightly against hers as he passed her the glass, sending a jolt of awareness straight through her knees.

“What are your interests?” she asked breathlessly.

He chuckled slightly. “Right now? I have only one interest. You.”

His eyes were dark with meaning over the rim of the glass as he drank. She took a sip, too, not really tasting it. She should be more confident, so much braver than she was at this moment. Everyone was settled after dinner. The girls had gone to their rooms. After the terror of meeting the three dogs, and being rescued by Nathaniel, Miss Furrington hid under the bed in Calliope’s new room connected to Nathaniel’s through the larger door to her left. Calliope had left the cat with a little ping of jealousy. Shaken by the beasts, by her near fall, by this new house, and by her new family and new husband, Calliope didn’t want to face her wedding night…

Not now…

Probably not ever.

And that strange, burning excitement that seethed at the very pit of Calliope’s stomach surely wasn’t anticipation of what was to come. She knew exactly how good it could feel to lie with a man—if books could be believed. Villains and Velvet was a collection of nine short stories where well-bred damsels were seduced by all kinds of rogues, scoundrels, and rakes while on swashbuckling adventures, being chased by pirates, vagabonds, and highwaymen.

Nathaniel could have easily stepped out of that book, with that large, muscular body and that voice as deep and as seductive as sin.

Heavens…and what if the night with him would be just as good as in Villains and Velvet? Just as good as she’d felt when she’d read those stories—before William had found her. Just as good as she’d felt when she’d touched herself right there?

Could he make her feel like that, too?

Her heart slammed so fast against her ribs, she couldn’t breathe. She took the last sip of her wine—gosh, it tasted like sweet vinegar—and put the glass back on the table.

“I meant, what sort of paintings do you like?” she asked. “Your walls are bare.”

Nathaniel’s jaw muscles worked, and he put his empty glass on the table, too. “Let’s not talk about my bare walls, dearest.” He turned to her and took a large step, standing so close she could smell him. “Let’s talk about something I’d like to see bare…you.”

Her throat contracted. Goodness, he was just like the hero from one of those stories! Heat flushed through her, making her all achy and longing for something…

Was it heat or embarrassment? William King’s shadow lurked in the depths of her psyche like a silent guard, dark and powerful.

She saw it in Nathaniel’s eyes. It would happen between them. If she didn’t stop him.

In a cold slap of panic, she whirled around and walked to the first thing she saw…the books.

She grabbed one of them mindlessly. The book was titled Things as They Are by William Godwin. A book about political injustice. She threw a curious glance at Nathaniel and flipped through it. His dark gaze followed her every step. It was like a warm, heavy caress on her body.

How could she be like this? Want this, ache for it, and fear it at the same time. “Did you like this one?” she asked. “Given you condemn innocent men to serve at war against their will, I didn’t think you would be interested in books like this.”

He slowly walked to her and stood five steps away, leaning against the poster of the bed. “Like what, Calliope?”

“This book is about how powerful institutions can destroy a person’s life with no regard to their circumstances. Isn’t that what the system of press-gangs is doing to people? Tearing them out of their lives, dropping them into a war with no consent? Isn’t that what that system did to my brother?”

There was a tiny flinch on his face, a flinch of regret. Of sorrow. Calliope’s heart lurched.

“I had to do many things to keep the roof above my sisters’ heads,” he said. “Things I’m not proud of. Reading books like that reminds me that I’m still human. Gives me hope it all could be different one day. By marrying me, you gave me such hope.”

And just when she was looking for more ways to dislike him, to reject him, to keep him at a distance, he said things like that… Things that made her knees weak and stole her breath away. Maybe he really wouldn’t be like William. Maybe she just needed to chase that shadow away and let Nathaniel in. Let him teach her. Change her.

After all, William King was no longer a threat. He couldn’t marry her anymore.

“I can quite understand that, Nathaniel,” she said with a slight smile. “In fact, I read it twice.”

She put the book down and picked up the next one in the stack.

And dropped it like it was red-hot. On the cheap paper cover was the all-too-familiar print with a blooming rose underneath… Villains and Velvet by Lucien Montpellier.

She froze, burning with shame and embarrassment just like fourteen years ago when William had found her with that exact book. How could this be? She hadn’t seen the book in years, yet the very memory of it was both arousing and shameful.

“What is it, love?” he asked, his eyes glinting in amusement… “Does that book interest you? Feel free to borrow it. It’s a much more entertaining read than Godwin.”

Amusement! Was he laughing at her just like William? Her reaction must seem childish to him. Prudish. He was much more experienced, so perhaps her naïveté was amusing.

What would he say if he knew his supposedly well-bred wife had read literature like this while still a young girl? That she’d liked what she read? That she’d enjoyed herself?

The shadow in her psyche grew stronger, darker.

Whore…

“No,” she said, walking away from his nightstand like it was a nest full of snakes. “That won’t be necessary.”

When she walked past him, he caught her hand and turned her, gently bringing her to him. “What is it? You’re quite distraught.”

She couldn’t look away from him. Her heart beat so fast against her ribs, but not with excitement and anticipation like before. Even though there was no trace of his former amusement, she couldn’t shake the shadow that that book and that smirk on his face had brought to life.

“I’m fine,” she said.

He studied her with a frown. “Are you concerned about what is going to happen between us?”

Concerned? She was ready to flee to another country.

She hated William. God, how she hated him. He had tainted her with one word, with one look, with one movement of his fingers for the rest of her life.

She could tell it all to Nathaniel. The kindness in his eyes, his genuine concern told her he might understand. Might not judge her, after all. A wife and a husband should be open with each other, love each other, respect each other—like her parents had.

Only, a man like Nathaniel would never understand someone like her. They were too different, like cats and dogs. Like bright yellow irises and the deep blue sea. He was a rake. She was a bluestocking.

That was who she should remain for him. Well-bred, smart, independent.

Not vulnerable and weak. Not a woman with a dirty secret.

When she said nothing, he gently brushed his knuckles down her cheek and looked at her lips like they were a delicious meal he ached to taste.

“I know you must be,” he said. “Your first time. I promise you, you’ll love it.”

She’d love it… Oh, how she wanted to believe him.

“I wanted you from the moment I saw you,” he murmured as he drew her closer to him, wrapping his strong, hard arms around her. “From that damned Royal Navy ball when you were so breathtaking, your intelligent eyes cutting into me like a knife through butter. And I loved it.”

She couldn’t muster a word. What could one say when one was completely mesmerized?

“And now, you’re finally mine,” he whispered and lowered his mouth to hers.

The moment his lips brushed against hers was like the sun colliding with the earth. The floor shifted under her feet as heat went through her with bone-melting power. She closed her eyes, softening into the exquisite feel of his lips, inhaling his manly musk—the scent of herbs and that cologne that was fresh like the wind flapping in the sail of a ship at sea.

The scent alone was enough to have her fingers clutch the fabric of his coat and tug him closer. She heard him inhale deeply and press into her, his arms strong around her. He brushed his tongue against her lower lip, and she shivered from sheer delight. Heavens, this was nothing like in the book—it was so, so much better.

A real kiss.

She opened her mouth and let him in. Oh Lord, the sensual, decadent touch sent a jolt of heat right into the apex of her thighs, sending a delicious shiver through her. He brushed against her tongue again and again, and she echoed his actions. Their lips mingled and played and came together, and she never wanted it to end.

He released one arm from behind her waist and cupped her jaw, his palm large, calloused, and warm, urging a rush of tingles through her skin.

As his lips and tongue explored her, his hand went down her neck, bringing that warmth down her body until…

Until his fingers found the exact spot on the right side of her neck, at the dip between her neck and her collarbone where William had so painfully pinched her. Branded her forever.

Nathaniel’s touch was nothing but a gentle caress.

But it was that spot.

The memory flashed through her, tearing her away from the beautiful sensations like a slap. Inexplicable terror flooded her. The shame, the embarrassment of that day pushed away the warmth, the desire, making her want to curl into a ball.

Her eyes flew open, and she pushed Nathaniel as hard as she could, backing away from him.

He staggered, almost falling onto the bed, his eyes wide and confused, his mouth open. “Calliope?” he asked, blinking.

She clutched at her neck in a mindless gesture of protection. “I can’t.”

He took a step towards her, and she took one back. “Did I do something?”

Her mind raced. This was their wedding night. He had every right to bed her. How could she explain this sudden rejection?

A boy pinched me and called me a whore when he saw me pleasuring myself while reading a book.

How could she ever tell him that? Or anyone at all? Not a soul knew except for her, William, and Spencer.

Spencer…right. She could mention Spencer!

“I will not let you bed me,” she said, panting hard, “until we make progress with my brother. You promised to find Officer Bartholomew, who could tell us more. You failed to fulfill that promise. I will not let you into my bed until you do.”

The change in his face broke her heart. From confused and regretful, a cold realization smoothed his expression.

“Right,” he said, straightening his neck, his eyes gleaming like glass. “Because I’m nothing to you but a means to an end.”

She swallowed hard. “Just like I’m nothing to you but a womb to impregnate. The last chance for you to get back your fortune. Because looking at all this, it is obvious how much you need it.”

She regretted the words the moment they left her mouth. She hated herself for saying them. His head jerked back in an expression of hurt. He didn’t say anything, then slowly shook his head.

“You don’t want me in your bed? You want to progress in your search?” He nodded slowly. “As you wish, madam. I will deliver. Because you’re right. And thank you for reminding me. You’re nothing to me but a woman to birth my heir. And I am nothing to you but a blue coat to give you access to the navy. I hope you find your cold bed comforting.”

With that, he crossed the room and marched out.

Calliope stood alone, listening to his retreating footsteps.

She was left with nothing but William’s dark shadow.

She’d been so wrong. Even though she was not married to the hateful man, he was still present deep inside. Would she never be rid of him?