Desire Me Always (17 page)

“You gave us all a fright when your fever set in the day after we pulled out the bullet. We all thought the doctor was going to have to open you back up and see if a piece of metal had been left behind.” She used a damp towel to clean around the wound, wiping away the dried blood that had crusted along his arm.

“What was it you needed to tell me?”

“It's about Shauley. I saw him . . . ”

Nick pushed himself into a sitting position, ready to get dressed, find a horse, and chase down the bastard.

Amelia pressed her hand against his chest forcing him to focus on her. “I saw him before you had your run-in with him. He was different. Like his anger was gone; actually, more like it never existed toward me. I couldn't figure out why he'd had a change of heart, why he didn't try to hurt me. I didn't know what to make of my conversation with him. I should have told you.”

“Why didn't you?”

“I will never forgive myself for the idiocy of not telling you. After almost having lost you . . . I hate myself for that lie, even if it was one of omission.”

Nick grabbed her hand. “None of this is your fault.”

She shook her head, not listening to him. “It was the first day we fought. You stormed out of our room. I should have followed; instead, I wanted to wallow a while in my anger. I didn't tell you about Shauley because he let me go. I thought he was going to kill me once and for all when he had a second chance. But he let me go . . . on a promise.”

“What did you promise him?”

“That I would convince you to leave Highgate.”

“Is that why you brought me back to London? To fulfill your promise to him?” Even if she had done it for that purpose, Nick couldn't find it in him to be angry. Not after what she must have felt while he lay dead to the world, keeping company with his nightmares.

“Only your need to see a doctor with more expertise than the healer drew me here. I was afraid to move you. Afraid you would be lost to us and was dredging up a thousand reasons why the carriage ride would kill you. But the healer and doctor assured me that we had to come home. And we did. There were medicines here your physician had to administer. And he was better suited to handle your wound than the healer.”

“The healer?” Nick laughed, but it was cut short by the pain it caused him.

“Yes, the woman you commissioned for my veil. She was a midwife before she became a seamstress.” Amelia tipped up her chin, leaning in close to look at the stitches on his shoulder and pressing a cloth against them. “You mustn't move about so much. Let's bandage you up and call for the doctor now.”

He nodded and let her go about tending him. Her touch was careful and gentle as she applied an ointment that smelled of lavender to the cut before covering it. He watched in silent regard until she needed his assistance in putting on his shirt.

“I don't think I've ever not been able to dress myself.”

“Not even after one of your fights?”

“Not even. Dislocated bones are easily reset. Broken ones just need a good splint. We both know blood washes away. The only thing to cure the rage after one of my fights was a good woman.”

She turned away, a frown on her face.

That had been the wrong thing to say. But dammit, he felt like shit, was sure he smelled just as bad, and all he could think about was his wife, naked and ready for him. And worse, he knew he didn't have the strength at present to fulfill either of their needs properly.

That didn't stop him from watching her; hell, he couldn't take his eyes off her.

“What do we do now, Nick?”

“We find Shauley and the vicar.”

“The monk—John . . . was he the one who watched it all transpire when you were a boy?”

Nick nodded, not able to voice what had happened all those years ago.

“And I told you where to find him as though he were a friend who could help.”

“It is far from your doing. And it led me to Shauley, which means I know where to find him.”

“Shauley was there, with the monk?” A furrow formed between her eyes.

He nodded affirmatively. “They knew each other. And while the monk pretended not to recognize or remember me, he knew exactly who Shauley was.”

“Is Shauley protecting the vicar? I don't understand why he would do that. His fate was the same as yours. What man would grow to accept that?”

“Your guess is as good as mine, but I don't believe he is protecting them. I'm missing a bigger part of the picture; I just haven't figured out what it is.”

“Nick, when he found me in the field, he said I needed to get you away. He had things to take care of and that you were interfering. It makes sense that he has the same goal in mind as you.”

Nick hated to be in line with an enemy. “Even if he wants the same outcome for the vicar, it does not erase what Shauley did to you.”

Nick swung his legs over the side of the bed. His head bowed as he breathed through the pain that infiltrated his body so forcefully that his head spun and his vision went black for a moment.

“I know that better than anyone. He needs to be tried for his crimes. Justice must be sought for those he hurt in his pursuit of this mad revenge he concocted. While my brother was not an innocent man, he deserved a better chance. Shauley all but admitted to being a part of my brother's murder.”

“I suspected but didn't know for sure, so I said nothing. Our secrets have dug us into a hole. I know I haven't been forthcoming with you and because of that, we are where we are today. Everything that has happened is my own fault.”

“I think we can both agree that it's neither of our fault.” Her hand rested on his arm. “Please, stay in bed a while longer. Your body is trying to heal from the ordeal.”

Weakness was not an option. He inhaled deeply and concentrated on the even tone of his heartbeat. It was a simple tactic he always used before a fighting match, one that centered and grounded him to the moment. The dizziness subsided as he rolled his head around his shoulders.

This was no different from getting up after a bad beating. He always persevered, no matter the odds against him. He ignored the sting of his shoulder and focused on what needed to be done. He stood and nearly fell over but caught himself by grabbing the post of the bed.

Amelia rushed forward to catch him under the arm. “What do you think you're doing?”

Did she honestly believe she could take his weight? He took a careful step forward. He was only wearing smalls and a shirt, and needed to pull on a pair of trousers before he could go anywhere. But Amelia led him away from the dressing room and toward the plunge bath.

“I have to deal with Shauley,” he said in protest.

“If you think I'll let you leave this house in your current state—”

“I'm not asking, Amelia. This is happening. I won't make you stay here, wondering what else I've gotten myself into. You can come back to Highgate with me. We can end this together.”

She didn't say anything as she helped him over to the porcelain washstand. Nick braced himself over the counter and looked at himself in the mirror. He'd definitely seen better days, but he'd never been shot before, and considering he'd lost two days to fever . . . he was ready to take on the world, if that was what was required of him. Thank God it wasn't as dire as that.

Shauley would be a dead man when he caught up to him. The vicar and his disciples would fare no better. And by Amelia's nonanswer, he assumed she would be right there by his side. Things were definitely looking up.

Amelia turned on the tap behind him. “You are not going anywhere without a long soak in the tub. I'll make sure your shoulder stays dry.”

Nick rinsed his mouth out, swished some of the paste around to get rid of the taste left behind from two days of sleep and no food. Odd that he wasn't hungry. He spied his wife leaning over the bath, testing the temperature of the water. Her hair fell forward, skimming the surface. He might not be hungry for food, but there were other appetites that could be sated. He scratched the side of his face. His beard was in desperate need of trimming.

“I'd prefer you focused your attentions elsewhere than on my shoulder.”

Her hand stopped moving above the water, and her head turned to the side so she could look at him. “Is that so?”

“Give me one reason we shouldn't indulge our other appetites.”

Amelia dried off her hand on the towel draped over the tub and left the water running; it was only a quarter of the way full.

“You need to rest and avoid all strain.”

“That's for the doctor to tell me, isn't it?”

“You don't think I have your best interests in mind?” He did, but her voice was breathless as she said it.

“I think we are missing out on a fantastic honeymoon. I have a few days of neglect to catch up for.”

“Hardly, Nick. What you need is to heal. Healing takes time.”

“Help me out of my clothes, won't you?”

She looked down, a frown still clear on her face. Did she see the evidence of his desire?

“I was hoping for more enthusiasm than that,” he said.

“Nick you are on the mend, and in no shape for . . . for marital affairs.” Her blushing was the most beautiful thing.

“I think we need to make sure everything is in working order. I've gone through quite the ordeal.”

“If you think I'll believe that excuse, you're sadly mistaken. The doctor ordered rest.”

“How about I let you have complete control. I know how much you like ordering me about when it involves intimacy.” He traced his finger down the side of her arm. She didn't stop him by the time he'd reached the bend of her elbow, and her lips parted ever so slightly. He took that as an invitation to lower his mouth, pressing his lips against hers.

He was careful, gentle. He didn't want her to stop what he had started. Sore and tired were perfect descriptions for what he felt, but under all that was the need to feel his wife. Her life, her vivacity.

Her hand curled around his bad arm, causing him to hiss in a breath.

She pulled away, her eyes blinking away the fog of arousal in which he'd nearly drowned her better judgment. “I'm sorry. We should stop before things get out of hand.” She stared at his arm, a cringe curling up her face.

“I prefer things being out of hand where you're concerned, Amelia.”

He loosened the tie holding up his smalls. The material slid off his hips and pooled around his feet. Her gaze caught on his erection.

“Now I have your attention.”

She sucked in her bottom lip as she looked up at him. “I don't want to hurt you, Nick.”

“It'll be a good kind of hurt.” He took her hand and stepped into the bath. He wasn't giving her the opportunity to escape.

He released the buttons that marched down the front of her dress from neck to stomach. She didn't protest; she helped by shrugging out of her clothes once they were loose and untied the more complicated bindings he couldn't get at with one hand.

“Don't make me regret this,” she said in warning.

He gave her a sure smile. She wouldn't have cause to regret a single moment. His cock actually throbbed when she pulled her chemise over her head and let it flutter to the floor to land on the heap of her other clothes. She stepped into the water, her back to him as she shut off the flow of the tap. He pressed his erection against her backside, loving how the curve of her bottom felt against him. He ran his fingers down between her cheeks, pressing his thumb against the puckered hole of her rear. She froze, bent over and waiting.

“I want to fuck that sweet spot of you again, but I need more strength than I currently have.”

She stood and turned. “You said I could be in charge.”

“I did, didn't I?”

He gave her a lopsided grin as she helped him sit and stretch his legs out in the hot water. Her legs were on either side of his, her feet firmly planted next to his thighs. His hand reached up and cupped her mound. She was close enough that he could kiss her there, and he didn't wait for permission. Parting the lips of her sex, he revealed her hood-covered clitoris. He curled his arm around her hips and pulled her closer to his mouth and tasted the sweet juices of her cunt on his tongue with a groan.

“I can't stand like this much longer.” She pulled away from his mouth, and he nearly grabbed her with his bad arm to keep her in place but thought better of it at the last moment.

She settled in the water around his thighs, hovering just above his straining cock. Before he could comment on her teasing ways, she was sinking down on his length. Head thrown back, her small hands curled around the edge of the bath. Once fully seated, she looked him straight in the eye. The steam from the room had a light sheen of water, adding shine to her skin. He kissed her chin. Her cheek, her nose, then lazily slid his tongue past her lips and sucked her tongue, slow and sweet.

She moved over him then, lifting herself in a mimic of their mouths. He didn't rush her; he wanted this to last as long as it took the water to cool.

He could tell the moment her senses heightened, for her pace quickened, and her breathing grew erratic. He lowered his hand between them and rubbed her clitoris, letting her get closer to her release. When he felt the first rippling of her orgasm tighten her sheath around him, like a fist pumping his cock, he drove up into her, sloshing water over the edge of the bath, onto the tiled floor. He didn't give a damn what kind of mess he made.

Amelia's whole body was trembling by the time he came. His orgasm had never felt so fucking good.

When his cock stopped twitching inside her, she gave him a sweet, closed-mouth kiss. When she pulled back, she asked, “Did I hurt you?”

“God, no. I could do that all day, Amelia. Sometimes I want to forget the world around us and just spend my every waking moment with you . . . inside you.”