Chapter 33

33

She was alive…

And not only that, but she had also made sure he was alive.

Nathaniel’s limbs couldn’t stop shaking as he climbed the stairs to his bedroom two steps at a time, holding Calliope’s hand in his.

Back in the warehouse, he had been terrified the next time he’d touch her hand it would be forever cold. His heart had thrashed against his ribs like a wild creature ensnared. A familiar chill had snaked its way up his spine, each vertebra locking into place, leaving him as rigid as an ice statue. The ghostly pallor of Calliope’s face, framed by the darkness of the warehouse window, had plunged him into an abyss of memories best left untouched—the agonized moment he had watched his mother crumple from the bullet.

That same paralyzing dread had returned, gripping his mind in iron claws. The metallic taste of fear flooded his mouth, and a cold sweat formed on his brow. The muffled echo of his own blood rushed in his ears, drumming a relentless rhythm.

Would Calliope’s laughter, her touch, the very essence of her, be stolen from him in this hellish cavern of darkness? Would he be forced to listen to the fading beat of her heart? With each passing second, visions of her graceful form being pursued, caught, and silenced threatened to shatter his mind.

The thought of his world without her radiant presence threatened to crush the breath from his lungs. The void she and their babe would leave was so much worse and more devastating than his mother’s death could ever be.

He’d forever be a shell of a man.

But that didn’t happen. Her warm hand was alive and right where it belonged—in his.

And she was right where she belonged.

By his side.

God in heaven, if he’d known at the beginning of this all how she’d have transformed his life…how happy she’d make him…

And how miserable with terror for her.

Would he have married her?

She was supposed to be a bluestocking wife who’d bear him the child he needed. He would restore his wealth and reclaim his rightful position, and then they’d lead their lives separately like so many aristocratic couples did.

Instead…

He closed the door to perhaps the only place in the whole house that hadn’t changed—his bedchamber.

Turning to the wife he’d never imagined but now couldn’t live without, he slowly approached her. Her auburn locks were in disarray, her blue eyes shimmered with hope and uncertainty. He noted her petite frame, seemingly fragile yet emanating an undeniable strength. She had taken over his heart and soul so completely, they belonged to him no more.

And whatever happened, they would never belong to him again.

During the carriage ride home, he had frantically looked back at the dark streets, making sure no one followed them. In between those quick glances, he had reloaded Calliope’s muff pistols, ready to shoot if he saw a shadow of danger.

She’d fussed about his lip, about his eye, about the pain in his side, but he’d brushed her off. He didn’t even feel them, his mind feverish with one thought…

Take her to safety.

And now she was safe. Carl was rousing Joshua and the footmen from their beds to keep watch and to report to Nathaniel the moment they saw someone suspicious near the house. Joshua would take the dogs into the house, ready to protect if someone tried to get inside.

Calliope and his sisters were as safe as they could be, given the circumstances.

He wrapped his arms around her and brought her to him, sealing his mouth with hers. His bruised lips protested, but he didn’t care. The pain was nothing compared to the relief of connecting his lips to hers, his skin to hers.

He loved her.

No, love was nothing to describe what he felt for her.

He worshipped her. He lived for her. He breathed for her. She was necessary for his heart to pump blood, for his lungs to take air.

He was hers.

She retreated. “Are you in pain?” she asked.

“No,” he said. “I was no longer in pain the moment you were safe.”

She was shaking in his arms, her tremors like convulsions. He looked for a wound, a scratch he hadn’t noticed. Her skin was unblemished, but her eyes were wild.

“What is it, love?” he asked.

Her jaw trembled, teeth clattering as she looked at him with blue eyes so dark they could be bottomless wells.

“I just killed someone.”

The realization hit him like a storm wave crashing into a ship. Admiral Langden was dead. The longtime friend of his family, or who Nathaniel thought was friend… The man who had lent Nathaniel money, who had supported him in his navy career. The man who had commanded the first ship Nathaniel ever served on. The man who, despite his high rank, had personally taught Nathaniel how to tie the lines and dock the ship.

The man who was one of the few connections to his father Nathaniel had.

He was behind everything…

Why? Sometimes you have no choice but to do what a powerful man asks of you.

Did this have something to do with the man with the walrus-ivory walking stick?

The question was buried in his psyche the moment another tremor ran through Calliope, and he brought her to him. She had killed Langden…

For him.

He swallowed and wrapped his arms around her like a protective blanket. “I’m sorry, love,” he rasped. “I wish I could take that dreadful deed away from you. Especially since you did it for me.”

She looked up at him as though he’d offended her. Her lips were a lush strawberry there for his picking. They were both alive, and her heart beat against his chest.

“Whatever do you mean?” she said, her eyebrows drawn together. “Of course for you. I l—”

She closed her mouth. She…what? Lightness engulfed him at the possibility of what she was going to say.

Love.

Goodness, could this miraculous creature love him? She had protected him.

As his mother had.

Protection he didn’t deserve.

He returned to her lips. The hunger for her body, the need to feel her, warm and soft and his, against him was a constant ache in his muscles.

He clung to her mouth, drinking from her and unable to get satisfaction. Alive…you’re alive…

He picked her up, sliding one arm under her knees and the other under her back, and carried her to his bed.

He laid her down, their gazes connected, and a similar desire to that raging in his own blood glistened in her eyes. He kissed her again and cupped her breast through her dress, so round and soft. He ached to taste her skin, to feel her bare against him.

But what he yearned for the most was to be inside her, to feel surrounded by her, warm and tight, to know that she was still his.

His…

He moved down her body, his tongue tasting the salt and the sweetness of her skin as he licked his way down to her neckline.

He then raised her skirts and her petticoats to her stomach, exposing those long, sculpted legs clad in stockings. Just the sight of the dark auburn curls between her thighs had his balls tighten in anticipation and his hard cock jerk in his trousers.

Spreading her folds, he sealed his mouth with her sex and moaned in satisfaction when she gave a long, sweet gasp of pleasure. He loved how she tasted. Sweet and pungent. Just the taste of her and the soft, velvety feel of her against his mouth was enough to make him stiffen even more.

He knew where she liked to be teased, how much pressure would bring her the most pleasure, and how fast he needed to move his tongue. He sucked in her clit and suckled it gently, and she rewarded him with an adorable little squirm of her hips, closing her thighs around his head. When he inserted his finger and hooked it so that he could reach the sweet spot inside her, and started moving it just how she liked, she moaned and arched her back, her fingers digging into his hair.

When she began moving her hips, rubbing herself against him, he almost came. He loved it when she did that, practically using him to bring herself pleasure.

He moved his finger inside her faster and harder, and he felt her tighten and shrink around him. She was close, he could feel it, but she stilled and pulled herself away from his mouth and pushed his hand.

“I want you inside me…” she murmured, her eyes hooded, her cheeks and neck red. “I must feel you, Nathaniel. You and I connected. One…”

He must be inside of her, feel her, alive and well and in his arms.

“Yes, love,” he replied. “That is what you shall have.”

He rose against her, removed his trousers, and hugged her, lay on his back, and pulled her on top of himself. His cock twitched and ached, impatient to get inside her. Her folds were right there, but he wanted her to have all the control now.

He wanted to see her riding him, on top of him, see her face once she claimed her release.

She reached back and grasped his cock, directing him to her entrance. She was so wet he slid in quickly and shuddered as her tight, hot walls took him in, wrapping around him. Then she began to move, and he lost it. Feeling her sex pump him like that, own him like that was his undoing.

“So good, Nathaniel,” she murmured as she rode him. “You feel so good…”

“You’re gorgeous,” he whispered, barely able to stop himself from coming. He felt his release tighten his balls and fought to contain the tidal wave of pleasure he was about to spill.

He grasped her hips, moving her faster, harder against him, as her own movements grew more urgent.

And then, as their hips moved in unison, he felt her quiver and tremble around him, her entire body shaking. He couldn’t stop himself. She was his undoing. His fearless woman. This gorgeous creature he knew he would always love.

He bucked, his body as tense as a tree, and then he was coming and coming, exploding into her, and they were on the edge together, and he couldn’t stop looking at her.

His precious wife, who was his salvation and his destruction.

She crumpled on top of him in a delicious heap, and he wrapped his arms around her, burying his face in her beautiful locks, inhaling her scent like it was air and he couldn’t get enough.

He could feel her back moving up and down against his arms as she breathed, and he was still inside her and never wanted to leave her body. He longed to be forever intwined with her, connected like this, skin to skin, soul to soul.

He felt so heavy and warm and sated, her soft weight like heaven on top of him. Her silky hair tickled the side of his face. As he came back to awareness, he listened to the sounds of the house, alert for intruders. He could be lying dead on the floor of that warehouse. Instead, he was alive and holding the love of his life in his arms. The mother of his future child.

Who had risked her life and the life of their future child—for him.

Who would still be in danger.

“I could have lost you and the baby,” he rasped against her neck. “You were so reckless.”

He could feel her muscles stiffen under his fingers, and she raised her head and looked at him. An emotion rose in his throat at how beautiful she was, her lips red and full from his kisses, her eyes glistening, a healthy blush on her cheeks. “I wasn’t. If I had to barge into the warehouse and fight the seven of them with my bare fists, I would have. But thanks to you, I can shoot, and I could act without endangering myself.”

Anger rose in him like a wall of fire, and he sat up with her still on top of him. She blinked and frowned.

“We do have quite different definitions of ‘reckless,’ then,” he said. “I told you to stay in the carriage. You promised me.”

“Aren’t you glad I didn’t?” she demanded.

“You could have been hurt! So could the baby!”

“So could you! He almost killed you, Nathaniel!”

He moved her aside, jumped up from the bed, and swiftly put on his trousers and boots. Tiny snakes of fury shot up and down his body. “I don’t care about that. I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if you died to save me, just as I will never forgive myself for my mama’s death. I would have gladly exchanged places with her, just so that she would live. And I would have gladly died for you.”

The look of shock on her face made him swallow his tongue. “Well then I wouldn’t have been able to forgive myself,” she said. “Your mother wouldn’t want you to live your entire life thinking it was your fault she died. That is not why she protected you. She protected you so that you would be happy. Live your life with no regrets. She gave you a precious gift, Nathaniel. A gift you’re throwing away by blaming yourself when there was nothing that you could have done against a band of highwaymen who killed your bodyguards!”

He was shaking. Her words were like a hammer against his heart.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about!” he roared. “I have lived just fine until you came into my life. My sisters were safe. My heart—” He stopped himself before he would tell her the whole truth.

That he loved her so much, he couldn’t stand the mere thought of something happening to her.

That he wouldn’t be able to survive.

That she was the best and the worst thing that had happened to him.

He pushed out a lungful of air in a sharp exhale and collected himself. His heart beat so hard, he thought she might hear it drumming against his ribs.

“I can’t stand to do this anymore, Calliope. When I saw you there in that window… I thought now that you may be pregnant, you would understand that you are risking not just your safety but also the safety of our baby.”

She frowned. “Of course I understand that! But I had to help you. You have to trust me to make my own—”

Trust her? How could he trust her? He couldn’t even trust himself.

He interrupted her with a sharp gesture of his arm. “You won’t stop, will you? You’ll never stop. Your sleuth agency—that lunacy—”

She gasped, and her face lit up as though on fire. Her eyes widened, her hand clutching at her stomach. “Lunacy?”

He was too harsh—he regretted the word the moment it left this mouth, but hurtful words were better than a broken neck.

“You’ll never listen to me and try to avoid danger. You’re too independent, too strong.” He failed to tell her that was what he admired and loved about her…though it also terrified him. “I would have never married you had I known. I wouldn’t want to limit your freedom. Do you think I enjoyed driving you to Kelford and leaving you there when all I wanted was to never leave your sight?”

Her face softened. “You didn’t want to leave my sight? But—”

“But I just can’t stand the fear and worry.”

His whole body grew cold. These dangers, they would never end. She would be putting herself at risk every single day. He knew he needed to trust her to defend herself. He’d seen her do it. But what if the next time she couldn’t?

It was as though a shard of broken glass pierced his heart, and an icy realization hit his brain. He had lived alone, not allowing himself to fall in love, for this exact reason.

He looked at her precious face and felt the distance between them grow into a vast chasm. “You are too dangerous for me.”

* * *

Calliope slowly stood up from the bed, her sex still sleek and wet, her body warm from the fire he’d lit within her. She could feel him withdraw, could see the cold in his eyes like a wall of ice. They were still turquoise, only not the warm turquoise of the Mediterranean but the turquoise of the eternal ice in Norway.

It was confirmation of something she’d feared her whole life.

Their shared warmth and joy was an illusion.

From an early age, Calliope had known she was fiercely independent, perhaps to a fault. William King had only reinforced that belief when he’d discovered her reading mature literature and engaging in private explorations far too young.

She had always thought she might be too formidable, too self-reliant for a partner. Sometimes she even felt a pang of shame for being so. Who could truly love her with such a resolute spirit?

For a few wonderful weeks with Nathaniel, she had harbored this mad hope that she may have done the impossible: married a man who would love her…who would cherish her because she was so different, so strong and independent.

Not in spite of it.

She was so wrong. He was just like the rest of them. He didn’t trust her to know her own mind. He didn’t trust her to keep herself and her baby safe.

He didn’t trust her.

What a complete and utter idiot she was. She had fallen in love with a man who thought her a lunatic.

Perhaps he hadn’t called her a whore as William King had. But the very same feeling of shame and embarrassment crept through her body, prickly heat making her want to crawl out of her own skin and disappear, dissolve, hide.

Because he made it worse. He’d made her feel ashamed of her own dream. Of her passion.

Lunacy…

“You could have died,” he kept going, “and our child.”

“We don’t know that there is a child yet,” she said.

“Perhaps not yet. But you’re my wife. We still have an entire life in front of us, Calliope. And I’ve never envisioned my role as a husband to be a jailor.”

“And I have never envisioned myself being locked away in a country estate,” she snapped. “If I wanted that, I’d have accepted William King.”

She spat the name like it was a curse. Nathaniel’s eyes darkened even more at the mere mention, his jaw muscles working.

“How low have I fallen if you compare me to him?” he spat.

Calliope shook her head, pinching the bridge of her nose with her thumb and index finger. “This is pointless. You’ll never support me,” she said. “If you think my dream is lunacy… You’re never going to stop trying to control me, are you?”

He closed his eyes, jaw tightening.

“That is what I am with you,” he said as he met her gaze again, his voice broken. “A tyrant. I don’t want to be this man.”

Silence fell between them as they looked at each other, not moving, not breathing. Something had just broken between them; something had reached the point of no return.

“We have been unfit for each other from the start, have we not?” she asked, tears prickling her eyes.

He didn’t reply, didn’t contradict her.

She straightened her shoulders.

This was the end. It was her own fault, really. She should have never fallen for him.

She’d always thought herself a smart woman. How could she have been so stupid to open up to him and fall in love with him?

How could she hope for happiness with this man, for the same wonderful marriage her mama and papa had?

“Now you and I have completed our deal,” she said coldly, her heart dying in her chest. “I know where Spencer is. And most likely, you have your heir. If you feel I’m a lunatic and I can’t give you the compliance you expect from your wife, there is no more reason for us to torture ourselves and be together.”

He blinked; his jaw worked but he didn’t say anything. Then he nodded. His chest barely moved as though he had a hard time getting any air into his lungs.

“Where do we go from here, Calliope?” he asked, his voice quiet, his body rigid.

“We cannot divorce,” she said. “So we must remain husband and wife. I will carry your child. I will not start my agency until the child is born. As we agreed in the beginning, once the baby is here, you will get your fortune. And I will get my freedom.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. Then nodded again.

“I will return to Sumhall and live there,” Calliope said. “I think it’s best we don’t see much of each other.”

It killed her to say it, the pain tearing apart her insides.

“No,” he said, and a small jolt of hope sparked joy in her blood. “The girls love you and would be heartbroken if you left. More so than if I left. Violet needs you especially. They have missed a female presence their whole lives. And they’re used to me being away for days. It is I who will find an alternate accommodation.”

It felt like the floor careened and slipped from under her feet. Needles pricked at her skin. Her heart was just a tiny reticule of broken glass.

He picked up his clothes, walked to the door, then stopped and looked at her. “Just promise you will not put yourself in more danger…” Then he looked at his boots and chuckled. “Oh wait. You already promised me that. And look where we are now.”

And then he left her forever.