was saying cut through her shock and misery.
He was definitely cursing-but not in English.
She let it be for a while, letting the string of invective wash over her, finding it weirdly comforting. Being held by Nick and listening to…
‘Russian?’ she managed at last, and he said a few more carefully chosen terms of obvious invective.
Distracted, she pulled away. ‘What are you saying?’
‘What do you think I’m saying?’
‘Swearing?’
‘A nice boy like me?’
It was impossible to keep shaking when he was smiling. ‘A nice boy like you,’ she said, and she found herself smiling back. ‘Definitely swearing.’
He tugged her back again, into his arms. Against his heart. ‘Don’t stop me,’ he said. ‘Otherwise I’m going to have to slug your mother and it’s already been a black day. Ending up in jail might put the cap on it.’ He waited until she was nestled against him again. He rested his chin on her hair and swore again.
‘What is that?’ she managed.
‘Something a good girl shouldn’t listen to.’
She choked. ‘Language?’
‘Tajikistan,’ he said. ‘It has the best cusses. Uzbekistan’s good and so’s Peru. Mozambique’s not bad and Kazakhstan adds variety but, when I’m really against it, good old Tajikistan comes up trumps every time. Tonight’s definitely a Tajikistan night.’
‘That’s my yurt territory.’
‘Yurts and swear words. A truly excellent country.’
How could you not smile at yurts and Tajikistan swear words? She was almost forced to chuckle. Oh, but Grace… ‘She’s appalling,’ she whispered.
‘She is appalling. Is there a will?’
‘Yes, but…’
‘Leaving her the house?’
‘Leaving me the house.’
‘You want me to evict her tonight? It’d be my pleasure.’
‘No.’
‘I could set the dogs on her,’ he said thoughtfully, and once again shock and sadness gave way to laughter.
‘Right. And they’d evict her how?’
‘Wind,’ he said. ‘If you’re in a small enclosed place they can clear a room at twenty paces. All we do is ease them into her room and lock the door.’
She smiled again, but absently. ‘She’ll win,’ she said. ‘She has the right.’
‘To this house? No, she doesn’t. But it’s okay, Misty. I’ll manage this. This is our home.’ Our home.
The words had been swirling round for weeks. Our home.
He held her tight and let the silence soak in his words.
Her home and his. And Bailey’s and Ketchup’s and Took’s.
Home.
‘It’s okay,’ he said again, and he stroked her hair and then he kissed her, first on the top of her head and then on her nose-and then more deeply on her mouth. He was tilting her face, holding her to him, but with no pressure. She could step away at any time.
The night was far too bleak to step away.
Nick. What would this day have been without him?
He loved her and she knew it. This man could make her smile when her world was shattered. How lucky was she that he was here?
She wanted him.
And, with that, everything else fell away. The sadness, the shock, the anger. There was only Nicholas, holding her, loving her.
There was only Nick.
‘Can you take me to your bed?’ she whispered and she felt his body still.
‘Misty…’
‘My mother will be sleeping next door. I don’t want to sleep so close. Please…Nick, tonight I want to sleep with you.’
‘I can’t…’ he said and she knew exactly what he was thinking. He couldn’t hold her all night and take it no further.
‘Neither can I,’ she whispered and somewhere a chuckle came; somehow laughter was reasserting itself. ‘Not any more. I want you, I need you and unless you don’t have condoms…’
‘I have condoms.’ He sounded dazed. ‘You think I’d enter a house you were in without condoms?’
‘I do like a man who’s prepared.’
‘Misty…’
‘You’ve been wonderful,’ she said, but suddenly he was holding her at arm’s length.
‘No,’ he said, suddenly harsh. ‘Not that. I’m not accepting an offering, Misty. Do you want me?’
‘I…yes.’ There was nothing else to say.
‘Then this is mutual lovemaking, or not at all. I want you more than life itself, but I won’t take you as thanks.’
‘I do want you.’
‘For love? This needs to be an act of love, Misty, or no matter that it’ll tear me in two, it’s separate beds. You’ve had an appalling day. Is this shock and grief talking? Or something else? Something deeper.’ Something deeper?
Her world was changing. It had changed when Gran died, she thought, and it had changed again when her mother walked in. But now… Something was emerging she wasn’t aware she had. Herself. Misty. She had rights, she thought. This was her life.
And Nicholas was her man?
She took his hand, lifting it, resting it against her cheek. He let her be, not moving, letting her make her own declaration as to what she wanted. The back of his hand was against her cheek. She loved the feel of it. The strength. Nicholas.
She did want. She ran her fingers across his face, a wondrous exploration, never letting her eyes move from his.
‘Definitely deeper,’ she whispered. ‘I need to be kissed. More, I need to be loved, and I need to be loved by you.’
He gazed down at her for a long moment. He smiled, that magical heart-twisting smile-and then he kissed her.
Magically, his mouth was merging with hers. His hands were holding her face, brushing her cheeks with his lovely long fingers, loving her.
Loving her with his mouth.
The awfulness of the day disappeared as the kiss deepened, then deepened still more. She clung to him, aching to be held, aching to lose herself in love. Nicholas…
But he wasn’t completely done with her. Not yet. He moved back then, just a little, and his eyes were dark with love and desire.
‘Misty, love, are you sure?’
She smiled at that, for she’d never been so sure of anything in her life. This moment. Nicholas.
‘Yes.’
Definitely yes.
And the word was no sooner formed before she was being kissed again, lifted, held, claimed. Holding her in his arms as if she were a featherweight. A man triumphant with his woman.
