Son of a Duke (27 page)

Nora's face began to relax, and her fisted hands, which had been resting at her hips, slowly slid down her body.
 

"Very well," she said almost in a murmur, and she began to turn as if to go, but something stopped her.

"If Samuel was fine, whatever happened to you?"
 

Nathan wanted to see just how far down in the tub he could get.
   

"There was an altercation," he said.

Nora raised a questioning eyebrow.
 
"Altercation?'

Nathan nodded.

"What was the cause of such an altercation?"
 

"I showed respect to the wrong woman."

"Interesting," was all Nora said before she pointed a finger at him.
 
"Are you almost done there?"
 

Nathan looked down at his increasingly uncomfortable essentials.

"Perhaps," he said.
 

"Very well.
 
I shall return momentarily."
 

He almost came up out of the tub.
 

"I beg your pardon?" he said.
 

The very last thing he needed that evening was to have Elenora Quinton in his rooms in the middle of the night.
 
The whole situation smacked of impropriety and that only led him to want it more.

"You will need someone to apply witch hazel to those bruises.
 
You do not expect to do so yourself, do you?
 
You are not in any condition to be administering aid to your person."
 

That may have been true, but Nathan could think of many other persons who would be better suited at that moment.
 
Such as Napoleon himself.

"I suppose so," Nathan finally said.
 

"Good.
 
Get out of that tub and dry off.
 
I shall return," she said as she left the chamber, closing the door softly behind her with a subtle, authoritative click.

~

She could do this.
 
She could.
 
Really.
 

But she had not been shaking before like she was now.
 
Before when she had brazenly entered Nathan's chambers in Lofton's home to demand an explanation as to why her son smelled of garbage.
 
And it was only then that she realized she had received no explanation beyond admittance to the truth and a declaration of having had quite an adventure.
 
Much the same line Samuel had delivered.
 
Nora frowned wondering if the two were in cahoots.
 

But now, she shook, honestly and truly.
 
How was she going to be able to put the witch hazel cream on his face without poking him in the eye or something?
 

And really, what had propelled her to offer such assistance in the first place?
 
It was a natural reaction she knew, to take action when action was needed.
 
And Nathan obviously needed assistance.
 
But why had she been the one to offer?
 
She was the guest in a duke's home, and it was nearly the middle of the night if not creeping into the early morning, and she was traipsing about like a trollop instead of heeding the rules of polite society.
 
She should never have gone into Nathan's room, but Samuel's gleeful proclamation of being tossed in the garbage had riled her motherly instincts enough to hang propriety and its rules.
 
She had marched into Nathan's room, heedless of the fact that he was likely bathing and indeed, was, and demanded to know something.
 
But offering to apply witch hazel to his bruises was a step too far even for her.
 
Or especially for her.
 

Nora was getting flustered.
 

She checked on Samuel, sleeping like the dead in the middle of the gigantic bed that took up almost half of their bedchamber.
 
Their bedchamber was conveniently located just down the hall from Nathan's, and Nora wondered not for the first time if Jane had done that on purpose.
 
Jane had offered them separate bedchambers at first, but Nora would not sleep in a different room from her son that night.
 
Not when she had just gotten him back.
 
And now he slept.
 
Red satin covers were pulled up to his chin with one arm thrown over his head, the other flung out at his side.
 

Nora paced the bedroom, stalling.
 
The tub of witch hazel a maid had left on the night stand for Samuel's bruises went from one hand to the other.
 
How long did it take for one to get dried off and decent?
 
Had she waited long enough?
 
Had she waited too long?
 

She stepped forward, grabbed the knob, and tripped through the door into the hallway.

The house was silent.
 
Eerily so.
 
But Nora kept her back straight and carefully shut the door on her sleeping son.
 
She moved carefully down the carpeted hall, her slippered feet silent as she moved.
 
The skirts of her borrowed gown barely swished in the stillness.
 
She reached Nathan's door and knocked lightly, not wanting to wake the house.
 
He responded with an equally modest
Enter
, and Nora went inside Nathan's rooms in the middle of the night in a house in which she did not live.
 

Nathan stood by the fire, a slightly worn silk dressing gown flickering in the light.
 
He turned when she came in, and she had to swallow.
 
He looked terrible, but somehow he still made her stomach turn over.
 

Pulling her shoulders back, she marched over to him.
 

"Sit."
 
She pointed to the wingback in front of the fire.
 

He raised an eyebrow at her.
 
"Is that going to hurt?"
 

She giggled and covered her mouth with her hand.

Nathan reached up and drew her hand away.
 

"Don't.
 
I like to see you laugh."
 

Nora blushed and had to look at her feet.
 
At this rate, she was never going to finish what she had started.
 
She was going to melt into a puddle at his feet.

Nathan released her hand, sat down and waited.
 
She unscrewed the lid of the jar and set it aside.
 
Dipping her fingers into the cream, she studied it scrupulously, so she would not have to look at him.
 
This was ridiculous.
 
She set the jar aside too, and with two fingers covered in cream, she attacked his face.
 

The worst of the bruising was along his jaw and one of his eyes.
 
The swelling had not gotten too bad.
 
It was puffy and tender, but he could still see out of it.
 
She carefully smeared the cream over it, willing her fingers not to shake.
 

She stood back and surveyed her work.
 

"There.
 
I think that will help."
 

"Good," Nathan said.
 
And then he grabbed her.
 

She was in his lap with his lips bruising hers before she realized what he had done.
 
But thinking about what he had done was nowhere near as enjoyable as thinking about what he was doing.
 

She was on fire.
 

That was the only thing she could think.
 
His lips seared hers, his hands pulled her closer, tearing at the fabric that stood between her and him.
 
Then his lips nudged hers open, and his tongue dipped into her mouth.
 
She heard someone moan and thought it was very likely her.
 
She did not want to be the only one moaning.
 

She lifted her hands and speared them through his hair, running her nails along the skin at his neck and along his shoulders.
 
And then he did moan, and she would have smiled, but her mouth was busy.
 

She became aware of a hand on her leg, underneath her skirt, working on the tie of her stocking.
 
She broke her mouth away.
 

"It's double knotted," she said, and reached over batting his hand away.
 
She tugged on just the right strand, and the bow came loose, her stocking sliding down her leg.
 

"Thank you," he said, plunging his hand down the length of the stocking and drawing it and her slipper away.
 

"You are quite welcome."
 
And then she pulled his mouth back to hers.
 

But there was no way she was going to let him touch bare skin when she could not.
 
She ran a hand up the part in his robe, feeling the crispness of the hair that sprinkled his chest, shocked at the sensation, at the fact that this was happening.
 
She kept going, running her fingers under the silk and pushing it away from his shoulder.
 

And it was when she touched his bare skin that she realized what was happening, realized it and did not believe it.
 

The bodice of her gown suddenly felt looser but not quite loose enough.
 
She sat up.
 

"There is a catch," she said, dragging her mouth once again from Nathan's.
 

She reached over her head and slipped the hook from the eye at the neckline of the gown.
 

Nathan tore the bodice away and plundered.
 
His mouth blazed kisses along her exposed shoulder, slipping the strap of her shift away from her collarbone, so he could devour that, too.
 
Nora's head fell back as she was no longer able to hold it up.
 
He placed kisses along the lacy edge of the shift but never strayed any lower.
 
And his hands remained on the bunched fabric of her bodice, never touching her where she longed to be touched.
 

Finally it got to be too much, and she snapped her head up.
 

"Nathan, please."
 

She grabbed his hand and placed it directly on her breast and reeled when Nathan's face turned white as the blood drained from it.
 
And then his hand squeezed, and all thought fled.

She tore at his robe now, dragging both arms out from it and letting it slip down to his waist.
 
She ran her hands down the smooth, tight skin of his back as Nathan's lips finally dared to go lower.
 
Her shift was hanging off of her shoulders now, so she lifted her arms out of the straps and let the material fall away.
 

Nathan sat up, moving his hands away from her.
 

"Nora, I do not want to-"
 

"I know, Nathan."
 
She touched the part of his face that was not bruised.
 
"I know, but I want you to.
 
I want to know how good it feels before I remember how bad it felt.
 
Please, Nathan."
 

He swallowed, and Nora watched the movement, pleading with her eyes.

And then Nathan nodded. He lifted her, and Nora grabbed at his shoulders to hang on.
 
She felt his robe dislodge and fall away, a slight little thrill passing through her at the thought that he was completely and totally naked.
 
Nathan laid her on the rug before the fire, pulling down some cushions from the sofa and pushing them under her head.
 

"All right?" he asked.
 

Nora could see the tension in Nathan's face, and she smiled, as warmly and as brightly as she ever had.
 
Nathan slowly smiled back at her.
 
She opened her arms, and he came into them.
 

He did not crush her.
 
He kept his weight a delicious presence somewhere above her.
 
He pulled at the remainder of her clothing, taking less care not to frighten her, which made her tingle even more.
 
And then he was kissing her again, but with tenderness, and not the jarring emotion of just moments before.
 
His hands were everywhere, sweeping down her sides and back up.
 
And then his mouth was dipping lower, to her collarbone, lower, finally to the underside of her breast.
 
She bucked beneath him, surprised that her hips moved without her knowing they would or could.
 
She felt Nathan's smile against her tender flesh just before he drew her nipple into his mouth.
 
She clawed at his back, pressing him closer.
 

But he was moving again before she could savor what he had done.
 
He was above her, sweeping the hair from the sides of her face.
 

"Nora, I want to be sure.
 
I want you to be sure.
 
You really want to do this."
 

There was pain in his eyes, pain of uncertainty, pain of longing, and Nora brought her hands up to his face, mimicking his touch.
 

"Yes, I am sure.
 
I want to do this with you."
 

The thought would have startled her had she known she had been thinking it all along, but there in that moment, it just seemed right.
 
It just seemed like destiny that she was lying there in Nathan's arms.

Nathan groaned and kissed her, before going back to first one breast and then the other.
 
Nora squirmed beneath him, and Nathan chuckled.
 
The sound fluttered over her stomach, making her giggle.