Just One Kiss (30 page)

Elizabeth didn't return his smile. "Yes, I would say two knife wounds are quite serious. In fact, I'd say the subject demands further scrutiny."

He sighed. "I already told the police, Elizabeth, when they stopped by yesterday to talk to me." He shrugged his shoulders. "I didn't see whoever it was that stabbed me," he went on. "I was jumped from behind."

"Yes, so I heard. But I'm far more interested in what you
didn't
tell them."

Nathaniel was clearly taken aback by her conviction. "What makes you say that?"

"Nathaniel, I am not a featherbrain. You came here one night asking for money. You admitted you were in trouble. The next day you were stabbed. It's no coincidence, so please don't try to convince me that it was."

There was every indication he intended to do exactly that. A look of confusion and hurt flashed across his face—oh, but he was quite the actor, she would grant him that! Then all at once his shoulders slumped. "I suppose I owe you an explanation," he murmured.

Her eyes were snapping. "You owe me the truth."

He shoved his fingers through his hair, a gesture of frustration. "Hell," he muttered. "I don't even know where to start."

The pinched tightness of Elizabeth's mouth foretold a warning. He'd not get off so easily!

He sighed. "Remember when I left London so abruptly?"

"How could I forget? You said it was business. Obviously it wasn't."

"No," he admitted. "I'd been incredibly lucky at the gaming tables the first weeks I was in London. Elizabeth, I—I couldn't lose! It was like everything I touched turned to gold, and I—I wanted more."

Her gaze was steady on his face. "Go on."

He took a deep breath. "I learned about a man who would loan money—Viscount Phillip Hadley. So I borrowed twenty thousand pounds, certain that I could turn it into a fortune."

"You got greedy," she said softly.

Nathaniel didn't deny it. Instead he shook his head. "But my luck changed. I lost it, Elizabeth. I lost every last pound."

Elizabeth was aghast. "All of it?"

"One roll of the dice and it was gone—gone!" He made a disgusted sound low in his throat. "So I borrowed more."

"From Viscount Hadley?"

"Yes. I'd heard rumors that he could be… nasty, shall we say. But it was the only way I could think of to try to repay him."

"But you lost again, didn't you?"

He nodded. "Hadley demanded I repay him. But I didn't have it, Elizabeth. One night he sent several thugs after me. They roughed me up and said if I didn't repay the loan within a week, I'd be sorry." His tone had turned grim. "I was desperate, Elizabeth. There was no way I could repay him."

Elizabeth had a very good idea what happened next. "That's when you left, isn't it?"

"I-I didn't know what else to do. I didn't deliberately try to cheat him, I just wanted to save my own skin! I didn't think he'd follow me all the way across the Atlantic, but I needed to make sure. I figured they'd expect me to return to Boston."

"But instead you went to New York."

"Yes. I waited until I figured it was safe, then came home to Boston. But the other night someone followed me."

A sick feeling knotted in Elizabeth's stomach. "One of Hadley's men?"

Nathaniel had gone a trifle pale. "He held a knife to my throat and said he'd give me three days to deliver the money at a place called the Crow's Nest."

Elizabeth inhaled sharply. "That's when you came here, isn't it? You said you needed whatever money you could get your hands on."

"Yes. I told him I'd have the rest soon. But I guess it wasn't enough to satisfy him. Later that night when I arrived home he was waiting for me. He said he wanted to give me a taste of what would happen if I didn't pay up in full the next time."

"Dear God," she said numbly. "So that's when he stabbed you." She paused, then snapped her fingers. "Wait! The day I found you, a man walked out from the alleyway. He was tall and thin and wore a brown derby—"

"That's him. That's the one."

Elizabeth's mind was awhirl with all he'd told her. "Nathaniel," she said quietly. "Is that why you took my pearls?"

He nodded. His gaze slipped away. "I was hoping you wouldn't miss them for a while," he admitted.

"Why? So I would think I'd lost them? Or misplaced them?"

His silence was admission enough.

"I'm sorry," he said after a moment. "But Hadley's man has them now." He fell silent. "Does Morgan know I took them?" he asked suddenly.

"No. But you have to tell him about Hadley, Nathaniel."

"No! Promise me you won't tell him, Elizabeth. I can handle this on my own!"

"Nathaniel, don't be foolish! You need his help. If you won't tell him, then I will."

"No! And I don't want the police involved either."

"Nathaniel, don't be absurd. This is your life we're talking about—"

"Exactly," he broke in sharply. "It's
my
life. I'm responsible for this mess, Elizabeth. It's up to me to fix it. I don't need Morgan looking over my shoulder."

Elizabeth gazed across at him, her indecision reflected in the troubled depths of clear green eyes.

Nathaniel's gaze softened. "You don't understand, do you?"

"No, I-I do. Or at least I think I do." She gave a tiny shake of her head. "But I'm afraid for you, Nathaniel."

"Don't be. I've made my own choices for a while now"—his smile was wholly self-derisive—"usually the wrong ones. But Morgan's always been back in the shadows, looking over my shoulder. Perhaps it's my own fault."

He seemed to be speaking more to himself than to her. "You were right when you said I shouldn't have to look to him to keep me. But I always have. I've looked to him for money when I needed it. To bail me out of trouble. It was… easiest, I suppose. God knows I've never been the hardworking sort. I left that to Morgan. Ah, yes, he's the industrious one. I'm the carefree one. Carefree and—careless." He gave a rueful glance at his bandaged shoulder.

Once again his eyes sought hers. "Elizabeth, please don't tell him. I need to handle this on my own." He shrugged. "Oh, no doubt I'll botch this, too. Lord knows I've failed at enough other things."

"Don't talk like that," she scolded gently. "You're not a failure."

He shook his head. "Oh, but I am." His smile was purely devilish—purely Nathaniel. "I'm a rogue. A scoundrel. The worst kind of reprobate."

"You're not."

"I am."

"Then—then you can change. I'll help you, Nathaniel."

"Such a tender soul," he mocked. "No self-respecting woman would have me, Elizabeth. Why, half the mothers in Boston hide their daughters from me." He gave an exaggerated sigh. "Ah, well, it's probably a good thing we didn't marry. You'd never have been able to reform me, and I'd have ended up disappointing you. In fact, I'd probably have broken your heart."

Though she smiled at his teasing, there was a painful stab in the region of her heart. Morgan's grim-faced visage flashed in her mind's eye. When she'd first arrived in Boston, she'd been hurt by Nathaniel's deception; she couldn't deny it. But that hurt was but a pinprick compared to the hurt Morgan could deal her. He possessed the power to wound her far more than Nathaniel. With but a word—a look—he could leave her feeling utterly devastated.

A shadow seemed to slip over her. It was strange, she reflected, all at once feeling lonely and pensive. Somehow she had always imagined that when she fell in love, it would be a joyous, blissful state, a world of happy contentment. And yes, she'd discovered love to be the most powerful stirring imaginable of heart and body and spirit…

But never—
never
—had she dreamed that love could be such deep, rending agony.

Fool
, goaded a voice inside. The hurt is not in loving…

It was loving… and not being loved in return.

"Now," Nathaniel said, jarring her back to reality. "Will you promise you'll do as I ask and not say a word to Morgan?" Light as his tone was, his gaze was pleading.

Slowly, reluctantly, she nodded. "I promise," she allowed. And even as she spoke the words, she prayed it would be a promise she could keep.

"Good. And now that I've poured out my very soul, I have a question for you," he said.

"Yes?" Elizabeth tipped her head to the side and waited.

There was a heartbeat of quiet. He gazed at her, his regard deep and penetrating. "Are you happy?" he asked softly.

A tiny jolt went through her. The question was something she hadn't expected.

Something she wasn't prepared to answer.

Her smile wavered. It was all she could do to speak. "Nathaniel, ask me anything, but please don't ask me that."

His features were suddenly stormy. "Damn his hide!" he swore. "It's Morgan, isn't it? That bastard. He's made you completely miserable—"

"No.
No
! It's not what you think, Nathaniel. It's not that at all! It's just that…" She stopped, unable to go on. She bowed her head low so he wouldn't see the tears that sprang hot and stinging to her eyes.

Yet somehow he knew. "Dear God," she heard him say, "don't tell me you love him."

A single, scalding tear slid down her cheek.

"My God, you do!"

She took a deep, ragged breath. "Nathaniel, I-I'm sorry. I don't mean to hurt you."

He reached over and gripped both her hands. "Don't be sorry," he said intently. "Elizabeth, you were the best thing that ever came into my life. I was simply too foolish to realize it. So if there are regrets, let them be mine."

She raised her head and gave him a watery smile. "Nathaniel—"

"Forgive me for intruding on such a cozy scene," injected a voice from the doorway, "but I'd like to speak to my brother alone."

Elizabeth did the very thing she probably shouldn't have—she snatched back her hands guiltily and stood upright. Her heart plummeted. Oh, damn—damn! Why must this always happen?

She was stunned when he chose to overlook it.

"Do you mind, Elizabeth? I'd like to speak to my brother."

He was icily polite. "Of course." Flustered, Elizabeth grabbed her skirts and brushed by him. She didn't dare look at his face for fear of what she might see.

Nathaniel leaned back against the pillows, wincing a little as he crossed his arms over his bare chest. A brittle smile rimmed his mouth. "Come to inquire as to my health, Morgan?"

Morgan folded his hands behind his back. "Actually I came to deliver some good news. Stephen won't be by until tomorrow morning, but he's quite pleased with your recovery. He said you should be up and about by tomorrow. After that he sees no reason why you can't resume your normal activities."

Nathaniel gave a shout of laughter. "You didn't come as the merry messenger. You came to make certain I don't stay a minute longer."

"Not at all, Nathaniel. Of course, you may stay until you're well."

"Oh, come now, Morgan." Nathaniel openly jeered. "I know I'm not welcome here. If it weren't for Elizabeth, I wouldn't even be here."

Morgan neither agreed nor disagreed. "There's one other matter, Nathaniel." Morgan's gaze was as frigid as his tone. "You have a tendency to forget Elizabeth is my wife. I want your assurance it won't happen again."

Nathaniel's chin thrust out. "I haven't forgotten."

A dark brow arched. "No? And what about the night you kissed her?"

Nathaniel's eyes flickered. There was a long, drawn-out pause. "She's forgiven me for that," he said finally. "Besides, I was drunk."

"That excuse becomes rather old after a while."

Nathaniel's mouth twisted. "You can't tell me how to live my life any longer, Morgan."

"No. But if you'd ever listened to me, you wouldn't have made such a mess of it."

Nathaniel was suddenly as angry as Morgan was calm. "You know, you haven't changed a bit. You're still as rigid and inflexible as ever. If I don't do things your way, then my way is always the
wrong
way. Tell me, Morgan. Are you like this with Elizabeth, too?" He gave no time to answer, but charged on. "Do you even
care
that you make her life miserable?"

Morgan went utterly still. "Is that what she said?"

"She doesn't have to!" Nathaniel's voice was fired as hotly as his glare. "All I have to do is look at her to know it!"

Morgan's entire body was taut with the effort it took to control his fury. His burning gaze settled on his brother.

The breath he drew was deep and slow, his tone deadly quiet. "A word of warning, brother. I won't let you ruin this marriage."

"No, I suppose you won't," Nathaniel flung at him scathingly. "You can do that quite well yourself, can't you?"

«
^
»

At midmorning the next day, Elizabeth hurried from her room, for it was late. Faith! but she didn't know what had come over her these last few days. No matter how long or how late she slept, she woke as exhausted as when she'd retired. Yesterday she'd taken a brief nap, yet still it made no difference.

Errant shafts of sunlight streamed through the stained glass windows that arched high above the landing of the stairs. Preoccupied though she was, Elizabeth caught her breath in wondrous amazement at the dazzling display. The entire entrance hall was filled with soft, translucent colors of pink and rose, gold and yellow; it was like being cast in the midst of a rainbow.

Halfway down, she spied Morgan talking to Simmons. The old man nodded and turned, but not before he'd spotted the lady of the house. A smile of greeting softened the many fine lines of his face. He exchanged a few more words with Morgan and then was gone.

Morgan had glanced up as well. He was waiting as she came down.

Her smile was tentative. "Good morning," she greeted.

There was no answering smile in return. He merely gave a slight nod. Though she'd been kept busy seeing to Nathaniel these past days, he was doing much better—in fact, he would be going home tomorrow morning.

In all honesty, she hoped Nathaniel's departure would put to rest the tension in the household that had arisen since his arrival. It was Stephen who gently pointed out that perhaps Morgan felt neglected because of all the time she spent with Nathaniel. Somehow Elizabeth had never considered such a thing, yet now that she did, it made perfect sense.