Hold Your Breath 02 - Unmasking the Marquess (19 page)

Her blue eyes went downward, watching her fingers twist together. She nodded and then raised her chin. The light was back in the aquamarine of her eyes. “What I would like to talk about is the children. Is that what you have been doing daily in the morning? Thomas said you have been there every day since I have been gone.”

Killian shrugged, half in honest modesty, and half in relief that Reanna chose not to speak of her journey. That could only go badly for him. “I wanted to get to know the children. I wanted to know why they are so important to you.”

Reanna nodded, and Killian could see she held her breath. “And?”

“And I see it. Every single one of them is special. Unique. Each one wants so much to belong—to be part of the rather large family you have created. What you have done for them is beyond compare.” He grabbed one of her hands from her lap, encapsulating it in his. “You are beyond compare.”

She let her hand sit in his without the slightest tug to remove it. “But I had not thought past the next week with the children, nowhere into the future. But you, you already have Thomas a profession. Or two.”

“He told you?”

“He did. I am impressed you discerned so much about him in only a few days. He is very excited.”

“Anything he wants to do, anything any of them wants to do, I will find a way to make it happen. The girls will all have dowries worthy of any man, and the boys will attend the best schools and apprentice with only the most intelligent. Unless they decide they want commissions, like I think Thomas is leaning.”

She smiled at him. A smile he had never thought to see from her again. A smile of shy adoration. It flashed long enough for him to see it, to read it perfectly, but then it disappeared.

“No. Do not look at me like that.” She pulled her hand from his. “This is not fair.”

“What is not fair?”

“I am no match for this, Killian. What you have done this past week. What you are doing for the children. And then you produce Thomas for me—Thomas, with the rest of his life secure. It is not fair.”

Killian’s lips curled up at her words. “I said I was going to be honest, Reanna. I never promised fairness.”

He snatched her hand back into his. There was no letting it go. “I want you, Reanna. How your fingertips curl around chess pieces. How your tongue slips ever so slightly past your lips when you are concentrating on the board. How you light up every time I mention the children. That light is there for them, and it makes me jealous. Ground shakingly jealousy. But also desperate to put that light in your eyes—and do whatever it takes to keep it there.”

He shifted closer to her on the bench. “You believe the good in everyone, Reanna. Everyone except me. God knows I deserve that. But I want—I need to change that.”

“Killian…”

He lifted his fingers, brushing a dark lock from her cheek. “Just try and remember how it was when we first met. How everything was possible with us. It can be like that again.”

She closed her eyes to the touch of his knuckles on her cheek. “I do not think it can, Killian. What I believed, what I hoped for when we first met, none of it was reality. The only thing that was real was my naivety.”

“Out of all of it, all our time together, remember our wedding night.” He trailed his hand down her neck, watching her smooth skin prickle behind his touch. “That night alone. That was real. That was me. That was who I am. Who I am with you.”

She turned her face from him, eyes closed to his words. A breeze floated past them, freeing the scent of honeysuckle caught in her upsweep, the light scent juxtaposed to the rich darkness of her hair.

Killian leaned over, his lips soft on Reanna’s neck. “Do you remember this?”

Her skin tensed under his mouth. “I remember waiting for you when you never came.”

He brushed strands of hair backward, giving access to trail his tongue along the delicate skin behind her ear. “Do you remember this?”

“I remember your mistress laughing at me.”

“You need to know I did not sleep with her, Reanna. You are the last woman I have touched.”

His hand slid down from her neck, to the roundness of her breast. His lips followed, teasing every inch of the way. “Do you remember this?”

“I remember the long walk to London.”

Killian worked his way up her skin, reveling in the smooth morsels. As much as her words spoke to deter him, her body arched to his touch, her lips slightly parted. He pulled back when he got to her jawline, catching her juicy bottom lip with his thumb.

She didn’t open her eyes to him, but neither did she put up any resistance. He kissed her then. Hard. Soft.

His tongue made its way to hers, and she responded to the invasion, even though he could tell she fought how her body betrayed her mind. His hand went deep into the thick hair at the nape of her neck, and he tilted her head for deeper access.

She went soft. His. No resistance to the kiss, only complete submission. Killian took advantage, exploring, teasing, biting.

God, he wanted her.

He edged from her mouth, forehead resting on hers as he opened his eyes, searching her face. A tear slid from the corner of her eye.

“Killian,” she whispered, opening her eyes to his, “why are you doing this to me?”

“Is it so bad?”

She shook her head and the tear tumbled down her cheek. “But do you know what you are asking me to forget?”

He didn’t answer, could only turn his head, avoiding her. Then his eyes swung back to hers, intensity burning. “Yes. But God, Reanna, do you know what I’m asking myself to forget?”

She jerked away from him, stung, grabbing his wrist and pulling his hand from her neck. “No. No I do not. You said before there were things I do not understand, Killian. And now you say that.”

Killian stood from the bench, turning from her. Damn. He had never intended to breathe a word of her father to her.

“Was there a reason? A reason for what you did, Killian?” She wiped the tear from her cheek. “The smallest part of me has begun to hope that this was all a misunderstanding. That there was a reason you were forced to do those things to me. That it was not really you. Because how you have been to me this past week is who I always thought you were. The good in you. I can see it like I never did before.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Killian watched her move to the edge of the bench, hands gripping the iron as if she was going to try and stand. He turned back to her, if only to stop the motion. He wasn’t going to watch her put herself in pain.

She stayed seated. “Killian, if there was a reason…then maybe…maybe it would all make sense and I could move on. I do not want to believe that what you did to me is who you really are. I want to believe the good. The good I see in you right now.”

Killian crossed his arms over his chest, jaw flexing as he stared at her. “There is a reason.”

“Tell me.”

“It is a reason that will make you want to leave. I cannot have that. Your feet are not healed yet.”

“Honesty. What about that?”

He shook his head. “I will not tell you until your feet are healed. Then. Then I will tell you.”

“I miss your lap, Lady Ana. Miss Mildred’s lap is bony, not soft like yours.” Reanna looked down at the big brown doe eyes of Jeannie, curls hanging past her eyebrows to catch her lashes. The little girl rubbed her bottom on Reanna’s thighs, snuggling in.

“I would think any lap that is open is a good lap to sit in.”

Jeannie shrugged. “Yours is just better. That’s all. When you comin’ home?”

Reanna glanced up at Killian down the walk. He went down to his knees, bending over and holding several evergreen branches up off the ground so Albert could poke his hand in the dirt under the needles. Albert was giggling uncontrollably as Killian pretended to snap the branches down onto Albert’s hand, again and again. Reanna couldn’t hear what they were saying, but the laughter easily reached her ears.

Killian was an expert at continuing this unfair assault. After Thomas yesterday, today he produced Albert and Jeannie, and Reanna’s heart instantly re-melted after the stalemate she and Killian had found themselves in the previous day.

And now he had been laughing with Albert for the past two hours. Albert, the one who rarely strung three words together, was now spitting out words, jibber-jabbering with glee to Killian.

Unfair. Completely unfair.

She looked down at Jeannie, tucking a curl from her forehead behind her ear. “Soon, I think. As soon as my feet are all healed.”

Reanna had no idea. She couldn’t wait to get back to the children, but yesterday when Killian kissed her, there was a large sliver in time that she actually considered him. Considered him wanting her. Considered letting him have her—and whatever that meant, whatever he wanted of her.

It was a guttural instinct that spurred that thought into her head, and just as quickly, it disappeared when he mentioned a reason. A reason for everything.

Could it possibly be that easy? And whatever it was, could it possibly overtake what she had begun to think of this new Killian? This new one that made her laugh, produced the children, listened to her, challenged her, and saved her from her own damn self.

If she had fallen so completely in love with him before—and that was when he barely regarded her—how was she ever going to withstand him when he gave her his full attentions?

She had resisted at first—spending the time with him, yet refusing to actually see the man in front of her. She told herself he was merely a diversion to keep her mind off of worrying about the children. How they were getting on. Did they have enough food? Were they driving Miss Collier to bedlam?

Killian played chess with her, and she could concentrate on something other than the children. She welcomed the distraction, since she hated herself when she worried about something she had no control over. The first six months in Holloton had taught her that.

But minute by minute, hour by hour, Killian sat in front of her and managed to etch himself into her thoughts, into her subconscious, until she was seeing him again. Truly seeing him.

She hated it at first. Hated that he could still command her attention at the slightest movement, the slightest flick of his wrist. Hated that his voice could hold so much concern for her. Hated that his smile made her chest constrict, taking her air.

But she saw him again, and there was nothing for it.

Her heart was the first to betray her, with its insistent thudding that sped when he walked into the room every afternoon. And then her body followed suit.

Their hands would brush over a chess piece, and her arm would tingle at the sudden heat. He would help her out of bed, arm wrapped around her back, fingertips brushing her ribs just under her breasts. She loved the sensations that it sent through her body, pooling deep within her. Yet hated that it was forcing her to acknowledge him. Acknowledge what he could do to her with one touch.

One touch, and all she wanted was him. His arms around her. His body on top of her. His mouth on her neck. Her body’s memory of their wedding night was still too ingrained, still too poignant to forget. And much, much too easy to remember.

How he watched her, looked at her, was so different from before. If his brown eyes weren’t smoldering, threatening to take her breath away, they were intent, truly watching her, listening to her in a way she had never experienced with him. He actually seemed genuine in wanting to know her.

That was, of course, when his eyes weren’t heated. She read very clearly in those moments what he wanted to do to her body. With her body.

Whatever the reason for his actions when he tossed her aside, Reanna was beginning to wonder if she really wanted to know. If it was possible for her to maybe move forth without knowing.

Jeannie twirled the purple primrose she had plucked from the flower bed across the cobblestone path, looking down on the white linen cloth wrapping Reanna’s feet. “Do they hurt?”

Squealing, Albert jumped up and ran full speed down the path from Killian, jumping onto Reanna’s lap, and ramming his sister in the process. He collapsed in a fit of giggles, dirty hands smearing Reanna’s peach muslin dress.

The pain vibrating from Reanna’s feet was not as intense as she guessed it would be, so she had a chance to lock Albert in her arms, tickling him. His giggles turned into yelping laughs as he tried to wiggle free. Reanna didn’t let it happen.

“There, not so smart to run from me, young sir, when that is your reward from your savior.” Killian strolled down the path, smacking dirt off his hands, smile on his lips.

Jeannie hopped off the bench and went to his side, grabbing his hand and dragging him along the path. He was completely at ease with the children, and they with him. It discombobulated
Reanna. She knew he had been visiting them, but there were no reservations on their parts. That could have only come from actual time spent together.

“Lord Southfork, I apologize for interrupting.” Head down, Miss Mildred, one of the nannies, stepped in from the opposite path. “But if Jeannie and Albert are to make the evening meal, we should be on our way.”

“Miss Collier will have your hide, if you are not back?”

Miss Mildred’s eyes darted around, until she looked at the ground, nodding. “The other children were already jealous of Albert and Jeannie.”

Killian looked down at the two sets of matching eyes staring up at him hopefully. “Time is up, little ones.”

Their faces fell.

“Not to worry, Lady Ana will be healed and back in your clutches in a short time. Off you go. I do not want to cause tears of unfairness at the house.”

Both children hugged Reanna, then grabbed Killian’s hands and trudged out of the garden.

Within minutes, Killian reappeared, smile on his face. A smile directed at her, enticing her into things she knew she needed to avoid.

Even with all that had happened, there were moments she saw him, and her breath caught at the raw masculinity he exuded. Dark blond hair tussled—probably from the children—his white linen shirt was open partway down his chest and had splotches of dirt on it, matching the splotches on his buckskin breeches. His ease with the art of play was as strong as his ease in a formal drawing room.

He sat down comfortably beside Reanna, his spicy
scent filling the air around her.

“There is such beauty in those children,” he said, picking up the purple primrose Jeannie had left on the bench.

“They adore you. I wondered if Thomas was an anomaly, but you were all they could talk about to me.”

He leaned forward, forearms resting on his thighs. “It very much surprised me that I would adore them as much as I do, as well. I had no inclination that would happen.”

Reanna’s heart sped, thudding hard in her chest. Extremely unfair. “Neither did I.”

He turned his head to her. “You adoring them or me adoring them?”

“Both. But you…you have surprised me. I would not have thought it of you.”

“Because you only knew one thing of me, Reanna. It was all I let you see. The part that hurt you. But I am so much more. I never myself knew how much more.”

He sat up straight, turning fully toward her. “I have a proposal for you, but first, I have to tell you something.”

“Go on.”

“The children. I know that you will do anything for them—have done anything and everything for them. So I want to make very clear that what I want to do for the children—school, commissions, dowries, whatever they need, is a very separate thing from the two of us. I want to do all of those things for the children, regardless of what happens with us. I never want you to feel pressured by me, or anyone else, into doing something you would rather not for the good of them. So I had trusts drawn up for each of them that will ensure their respective futures.”

Reanna’s eyebrows arched. “You did? Truly?”

“Yes. It is already done. I want you, but I also want you choosing me for me, not because you are protecting the children, or trading yourself on their futures. Nor do I want you to worry about them, should you decide you cannot move on with me.”

“Killian, that is…that is beyond generous. Thank you. So your proposal—what is it?”

“The rest of your time here. What if you did not live in the past? Did not live in the future? And I did not either. What if it was just us, the two of us, for this time? Just us. Who we are in this moment. When you are healed, I will tell you everything. Complete honesty. But not before you are healed.”

“You want to pretend?”

“If you would like to call it that. I prefer to think of it as concentrating on this moment in time. The time we are in. For the few days we have left until I tell you everything. We live in this moment. Who you are. Who I am. Give yourself that freedom.”

Freedom. That would mean unlocking her head. Unlocking her heart. Could she really do that?

“God knows you are different than before, Reanna. However that has happened, it took the past to make it so. It took the past to make you who you became. You are a woman with a rock-hard spine, but still with all the gentleness of a butterfly. That is the woman sitting in front of me. That is the woman I now know. The woman I want. You.”

He grabbed her hand, running his fingers up her arm as he moved in, his face close to hers. “But it blows both ways, Ree. I can do anything you want me to. I can be who you need me to be. But you need to give yourself permission to see that in me. Who I am now. The man right in front of you. Not the man from the past.”

Reanna closed her eyes, drawing vibrating air into her lungs as her head shook. “It is the fear in my gut.”

“Tell me.”

She opened her eyes, only to see dark flecks of intensity in the brown of his eyes. Intensity in trying to understand her. In trying to make her see him.

She took a deep breath. “Since we married, my heart has failed me, my mind has failed me. Again and again. The only thing that has not failed me is that visceral fear deep in my stomach.”

“Fear?”

She gave the slightest nod. “Every time that I have felt it, the fear building up, telling me that maybe I should not be doing something—that I should be inside, safe from the world, safe from something new, safe from a challenge, choosing easy—I ignored it. And every time I had ignored my twisting stomach, done the thing I least wanted, it has turned out to be better than I imagined. It has made me whole when I was nothing.

“Learning to ride, even though I was deathly afraid of breaking my neck. Learning chess from Ruperton and Evans, even though each time I sat down with them, I thought my lack of intelligence would be glaring. Following Thomas home, when I really just wanted to ride away and pretend that I never saw him. Travelling to London with the children. Every one of those moves was the wrong one, according to my stomach. But every move was the right one. I would not be where I am right now, if not for all those times my gut curdled against me, and it would annoy me so, that I would ignore it.”

“And what is the fear telling you right now?”

“It is telling me to run. That you will only cause me more pain. Pain that I would not survive.”

Killian dropped his gaze from her, and after a moment, he stood, his hand slipping from hers. Then he held out his fingers to her. “Are you going to listen to your fear, or are you going to ignore it?”

Reanna shook her head, eyebrows raised. She truly could not manifest an answer.

With a deep breath, but no words, she put her hands in his and went gently to her feet.

Killian slid his right arm under her shoulder and around her waist for full support. His left hand went across her front to her far hip.

Reanna froze. This hold was nothing like earlier when he had helped her hobble down to the garden. This was him, all over her, his shoulder muscles tense under her fingertips, breath mingling with hers.

“What are you feeling, Ree? Right now, in this one moment in time?”

She turned into him, letting her forehead fall forward and rest on his chest. His heartbeat thudded on her skin, steady, patient. What did she feel? What did she truly want? And could she honestly admit to it?

“This is hard. Too hard. You turn parts of me inside out, Killian. Raw. Aching for your touch.” She kept her head down.