Disgusted, he’d traveled on to Paris and begun an unnatural bout of self-imposed abstinence. Upon entering his state of self-denial, he’d couldn’t seem to break it.
If Dash and Jack had even an inkling as to the manner in which he’d lived the past nineteen months, they’d never let him hear the end of it. The Christmas house party had presented the perfect opportunity to break his atypical streak. He’d been ready to slake his lust mindlessly.
And now this.
The blizzard had obviously been sent from hell. Why else had it landed him in godforsaken Maybridge Falls?
Unless…
He raised his fingers to his upper lip and inhaled. “Just think of all the fun we could have, Eve, until the snow melts.”
She flinched, and her bottom lip trembled. She would run from him a fourth time. This ruse was his last hope for sanity.
And then she lifted her chin and glowered at him before flicking her gaze toward the window. Snowflakes swirled outside, occasionally striking the window soundlessly. “How long do you think that will take? Long enough for you to read through your correspondence?”
“God, I hope not,” he answered, taken aback by her question.
She met his gaze with an unreadable one and then rose to stand. Nick swallowed hard while she crossed the room, retrieved her stockings, and then returned to the table and chairs. She tucked a few long strands of hair behind one ear with shaking hands and then licked her lips.
Surely, she wasn’t going to take him up on his suggestion? She lifted one bare foot to the chair and after painstakingly gathering the garment into her fingertips, slid dainty toes inside. The garment unrolled slowly as she drew it over her ankles, calves, and past her knees to the lower half of her thighs.
He’d thrilled to see his hands on her pale skin only moments before. What was it about seeing Eve’s more delicate ones trailing up that same skin that aroused him even more? The urge to stroke his already engorged cock was nearly too much to resist.
“My garter, please? Will you hand it to me?” Her voice jolted him out of the dreamlike state. His throat too thick to speak, he retrieved the ribbon and placed it into her outstretched hand.
She slid her skirts even higher to secure the garter and then tortured him all over again with the second one. By the time she’d lowered herself to the chair to lace her slipper around her ankles, he could barely remember why she wasn’t in his arms and why he wasn’t on his knees begging for her forgiveness.
“Boots would have been more practical.” His voice came out sounding garbled as he attempted to restore his equilibrium.
She shrugged. “I was anxious to speak with you.”
Only after she’d taken up her coat did he move forward to assist her.
Why had she been anxious to speak with him before? Enough of his blood ought to have returned to his brain for him to make some sense of her words, and yet he felt as befuddled as ever.
“You agree then, that we ought to enjoy one another while I’m stranded in Maybridge Falls?” He’d have clarity on this one thing, if nothing else.
Moving past him, she dropped unexpectedly to her haunches and began rifling through his correspondence. When she rose and turned to face him again, she had picked out a handful of identical-looking envelopes. She chose one of them and held it up, just under his nose.
For the first time since she’d arrived, she stared at him candidly. “Start with this one first.”
He stared at the elegant handwriting on the front as she tossed the others onto the desk behind him but didn’t move until she started toward the door.
“I’ll walk you.” He held out a hand to halt her, glancing around for his boots.
She shook her head. “Read the letters, Nicholas.”
And then she was gone.
Nick wasn’t sure how long he stared at the door behind her before he could bring himself to face the letters. Dread had his heart skipping a beat. Because even though he’d never seen her handwriting, he was in no doubt they had been written by her. The realization of what that meant had him frozen in disbelief.
And shame. And sickening regret.
She’d written him? How had he bloody not realized that? What answers would those notes hold? Had he been carrying the answers to all those questions swirling in his head all along?
He traced the letters with his fingertips. Of course, her writing would be neat and clean but also elegant. Lady Eve Bailey was not one to affect unnecessary embellishments. There were no markings in the seal of wax, of course. She would not have wanted to advertise the fact that she, an unmarried lady, was corresponding with an unmarried gentleman who was not a relation.
He padded to the window and stared out into the snow at the same time he broke the wax, which had grown dry over time, and withdrew the letter.
My Dearest Nicholas,
You cannot know the torment I am in that I cannot speak with you before my father removes us from London. I’m so sorry I cannot say goodbye in person. My mother’s cough has worsened, and it is imperative that we remove her to the country air without delay…
Yours Affectionately,
Eve
Nick’s eyes scanned the single paragraph a second time and after checking the date, he quickly opened the subsequent letter.
My Dearest Nicholas,
You cannot imagine how different my days are from the ones I experienced with you in London. And the nights! The flowers, the balls, the candlelight, the long walks alone whenever we could sneak away. Is it possible that they were only a dream?
Although my father believes Mother is much improved, I do not think that is the case. She is coughing up more and more blood and I am doing my best to keep her comfortable…
The
