Sin and the Soldier, page 5
He broke off. “I’m sorry. I should not distress you with this. It is not—”
She slid off her chair so that she knelt before his chair and took his hand between hers. “Then who else will you tell?” she asked, distressed. “You’ve told no one else, have you?”
He shook his head, gazing as though blind at her hands.
“Why did you return for Waterloo?” she asked gently.
“Duty,” he said tonelessly. “And perhaps a glorious death. But I didn’t trust myself. I asked to be on Wellington’s staff, and he obliged me. My leg didn’t interfere with my riding. I thought I could cope one more time. But the noise, the smell… I found no honor in what we did to each other, in what I had been doing since I was eighteen years old. It wasn’t glorious. It was…obscene.”
Her throat closed up. She could think of nothing to do but hold his hand to her cheek.
He didn’t seem to notice. “I almost gave up and just left, left the battlefield. But then I found Daniels trapped beneath a horse and under enemy fire. I pulled him out, and I was able to function again. But it was only functioning. Like a machine or a clockwork toy that you wind up and point. When I was finally hit, I welcomed it. I’d delivered my last dispatch and had only to ride back to Wellington for more orders, but it was all over bar the shouting. The Prussians had arrived, and everyone knew Boney was done for.”
She forced herself to speak, though she didn’t let go of his hand. “Did you mean to be shot?”
He thought about it, which worried her. “No. I didn’t even see where it came from, but it blew me off my horse. She ran off safe, so I had nothing else to worry about. I thought I was dead and was happy to be so. Until I woke up in…well, without a large part of my arm.”
His eyes refocused on her face and softened. “I did not mean to tell you all this just to explain my point. Which is that when I first saw you, I was in a bad way. My body had healed as much as it could, but there was a thick melancholy I could not shift, even when I exerted myself to help my brother, something I should have been doing for weeks. And then you played.”
His fingers moved in hers, but not to escape her, to touch her cheek with a wonder that almost broke her. “It wasn’t just the music. It was your beauty, your simplicity, your… I cannot explain it. But you gave me courage as well as peace. And then I couldn’t stay away. So yes, whatever you say, whatever you believe, there is a debt, and it is one I am happy to be able to pay. Because there is no price for what you have given me.”
Her heart melted in a rush of emotion, awe, and fierce pride. She knew she should stay silent, just to remain in control and keep the overwhelming emotion in check. But she had to give him back the truth.
“Nor for what you have given me,” she said huskily. “When I first saw you, I, too, was in a bad way. I jumped at sudden voices, unexpected sounds. I had no confidence in myself or my music. Gerald had told me no one came to hear the music, just to ogle me playing it. He made… He made me flirt with odious men afterward. Never more than flirt, though God knows what would have happened if I had not left him. As things were, it was enough to make me feel grubby, talentless…”
“He spoiled your dreams.”
She nodded. “Playing at Maida helped a little because I was in the company of musicians. But you… At first, I thought you came to ogle, too. But often you closed your eyes, and I could see… I could see you were moved, that my music had touched you, that it could ease whatever haunted you. And I began to understand that Gerald had lied again. I went back to composing, to striving… And that, if we are talking debts, is mine to you.”
A smile tugged at his lips and flickered in his eyes. “We should have spoken sooner.” He had leaned forward in his chair, bending over her as she knelt at his feet, and their heads were very close together, his hand under hers, cupping her face. Too close, too intimate. Too…too right, too necessary, surely for them both.
She moved and softly kissed his rough cheek, a kiss of gratitude and friendship, letting her inhale his scent, his feel. And in return, he kissed her softly on the lips. The same kind of kiss, surely, and yet her heart surged because his lips on hers crossed an unspoken line.
Her fingers curled convulsively on his as they lay against her cheek. His eyes darkened with desire and yet it seemed to be her turn. She brushed her lips across his, and when she would have retreated, his mouth caught hers, clung, and slowly, slowly parted her lips in a long, sweet kiss that drowned her in wonder.
Gerald’s kisses had been nothing like this. They had been quick, hard, all tongue and slobbering. Richard Gorse did not slobber. He tasted, he gave and coaxed, and she found herself blindly following his lead, opening wider to him in an instinctive need to be closer.
He took his hand from her face, but only to carry hers to his neck before he returned to her cheek, caressing round to her nape while the blissful kiss went on and his fingertips stroked her skin. The thrill was a little like music, tingling from her neck through her entire body, and it made her gasp. There was only this man, his kiss, his caress, and soft, warm need.
For a moment, he deepened the kiss and a tiny moan of pleasure escaped her. Somehow, both her arms were around his neck, her fingers lost in the thickness of his hair, while she knelt between his knees and pressed against him.
Slowly, carefully, he detached his lips from hers and drew back an inch or two. “Natalie Derwent,” he murmured breathlessly, “I could kiss you forever, but that would get us both into trouble.”
I don’t care. Don’t stop. Fortunately, the words stuck in her throat, unspoken, and she could only stare up at him mutely. His eyes were clouded yet glinted with something so exciting that she almost climbed into his lap.
But he sat back, and his knees slid back with him, leaving her leaning on one thigh. His hand stroked her hair, more comforting now than arousing.
“We are still friends,” he stated, though it might have been a question.
“Better friends,” she said, and thought he smiled, though she was afraid to look.
“So do you like my idea of swapping rooms?”
It took her some time to rummage her befuddled brain for the reference. And even then, it entered her head that she would be quite happy here with him. But she had discovered a great deal about him today, not least that he was a lord, the son of a marquess. They shared a bond, but one that could only ever go so far.
She drew back, sliding across the floor, and hauled herself into the other chair. Her legs seemed too weak to support her.
“I don’t like the idea of you being here alone either,” she managed.
“It would only be for one night until Daniels and the others can join me. And I imagine I’ll be safe enough until Monck has time to recruit some other bravo.”
“Then I could just stay here.”
“I’m not prepared to take that chance. Why don’t we have dinner at the hotel? Then you can retire to my rooms, and I shall walk back here.”
She forced a rueful smile. “You galloped across battlefields under fire. I shouldn’t fear for you against Gerald, yet I do.”
“You mustn’t. It would be a waste of your energies. Do you wish to change for dinner? We can then go up and tell Renwick our plans, and tomorrow we will go to town and see what we can set in motion to catch Monck.”
Chapter Five
One of the hardest things Richard had ever done in his life was draw back from Natalie Derwent when she was yielding and passionate in his arms. Arm.
He had never intended it to happen. And yet he had dreamed of her sometimes when he slept, and in the wakeful, lonely nights, he had fantasized about her in his bed. The reality of the living, breathing woman was something else again. An unexpected delight aroused to sweet, heady passion, soft and beautiful and precious. And not ever someone he could take advantage of.
A vulnerable woman insulted, slighted, and robbed by the man who should have protected her. Threatened again by that same man. From what she had said, Richard’s presence at her concerts had been almost as much comfort to her as to him. That pleased him, and it would have to be enough.
For now, at least.
As he lay awake the next morning in her cottage bed, wondering if she lay awake in his at the hotel, he began to think she had given him something more than comfort and trust. She had given him hope.
It was not just that he had enjoyed kissing her more than he could recall enjoying any intimacy at all for a long, long time. If ever. It was that she had caressed his scar as though it was merely part of his face. At one point, she had pressed against the stump of his lost arm without recoiling or even seeming to notice. She liked him. He had aroused her. He knew in his heart he could have taken her to bed, shown her pleasure after pleasure, and made her body sing.
But it was too quick for her. She deserved better, courtship, flowers, love. Not yet another removal of her choices.
And so, he had taken her for dinner at the hotel dining room, then conducted her to his rooms and, ignoring all temptation to stay, he had collected his few necessary things and left her with a light kiss to her fingers and a promise to meet her in the morning.
He probably imagined that her fingers had clung just a little to his respectful lips. That she had been both eager for him to stay and afraid that he would.
But today was for business. They met in the hotel foyer bright and early and walked through the gardens to the hackney stand. The morning was bright and sunny, and in her company, everything in the world seemed good. They talked in light, bantering tones, and yet he had the feeling something much more important was going on. Sometimes she blushed as she talked, as if emotion bubbled just below the surface of her petal-scented skin. He barely took his eyes off her.
His words, however, were mundane. “I’ll go and visit Daniels while you are with your friend. Shall I collect you in, say, an hour? And take you to call on my sister-in-law?”
“If she would not mind.”
“Of course not. She will be thrilled that I’ve actually done something she asked of me.”
Her friend, Mr. Laurie, owned what appeared to be a music shop. A fine pianoforte was displayed in the window, and a sign invited customers to come within for an excellent selection of fine old and new instruments, and all the latest sheet music.
Richard alighted and handed Natalie down before paying the driver. He had to force himself not to escort her inside and inspect her friend and his premises. At least it was a shop and not private rooms.
“Will an hour be enough?” he asked civilly.
“Probably, but if you are kept longer, I am happy to wait.”
He tipped his hat, then sauntered off down the street. He thought his limp was improving.
Daniels’s lodgings were on the seedier end of Covent Garden, but the door was opened at once by a plump, tired woman with a clean apron and a generous smile. She carried a baby in her arms and another clung to her skirts.
“You must be Captain Gorse. Pleasure to welcome you to our humble abode, sir! They’re waiting for you in the parlor. I’ll be bringing refreshments in a mo…”
She threw open the door off the narrow hallway, “Here’s the captain,” she announced cheerfully and hurried off toward what looked like a kitchen, where the sound of childish, quarreling voices could be heard. The child trotting along at her skirts looked over her shoulder and grinned at him.
Richard walked into the parlor, where several men were rising to greet him, almost standing to attention.
“Captain!” they acclaimed him, grinning as though they really were pleased to see him. God knew why. Smith and Havers and Fellows from his own company. None of them were whole. Smith had lost an ear and his arm dangled at his side as if it no longer worked fully. Havers had a long, angry scar dividing his face and vanishing into his shirt. Fellows had only one leg and got about on a crutch. Richard wasn’t so much appalled by their injuries as by his ignorance of them.
He’d given money to his father’s man-of-business for those of his company who had been invalided out of the regiment. Why had he not seen that was not nearly enough? And still, they looked up to him.
Well, dammit, they weren’t in the army now. He thrust out his hand. “Sergeant Smith. Havers. Fellows. Good to see you. Daniels, all well?”
His briskness at least got them all shaking his hand and sitting down again, two squashed onto the wooden settle, two on the empty hearthstone, and Richard on a chair.
“I’ve been telling them about your problem,” Daniels said, “and my bad decision. Surprised the lady doesn’t want to draw and quarter me.”
“She knows who’s to blame.”
“Well, about him. He’s no regular at the Bird in Hand. No one knows his name or where he stays. He only drops in occasional like. Probably when he has dodgy jobs he wants doing. And I soaked it up. But the tavern keeper will let me know if he shows up again.”
“Thanks, Dan,” Richard murmured. “I suspect it’s only a matter of time before he threatens Miss Derwent again. And since he can’t find what he’s looking for, it’s my belief he’ll go after her person. So, she’ll be staying safe elsewhere for a night, while I occupy her cottage. How are you fellows fixed for work?”
Havers shrugged. “I’m not. I scare the horses.”
“And Fellows and me lost our places when old Dodger sold the livery stable,” Smith said with a twisted smile. “You might say we’re between work, with the between likely to be long.”
Richard nodded. “Then you’d be available to help me out? To keep watch in the vicinity of Maida Pleasure Gardens and the cottage I mentioned? I can’t tell how long the work will last, but while it does, I’ll buy your rations and pay you enough that you can feed your families, too. What do you say?”
“When do we start?” Smith asked.
*
Laurie had some coins to give her for the sale of song music both from his shop and others. She used some of it to buy more harp strings and then got him to help her with the piece of her symphony that wouldn’t work, and she had been right. It needed the harp at that crucial place.
While she scribbled it down, she felt his gaze on her face.
“Someone was here, asking for you,” he said reluctantly.
She glanced up at once. “Who?”
Laurie drew in a breath. “He said he was your husband.”
Natalie went very still. “You believed him. You told him where I was.”
“I told him you were playing at Renwick’s Hotel on Wednesday evening. Was I wrong?”
She nodded slowly. “But you weren’t to know. I never told you who not to tell, just that I preferred anonymity. We use your name on the songs, so how did he make the connection? How did he find you?”
“He said he recognized a piece, said you had played it for him.”
She snorted. “I never thought he would remember it.” He hadn’t thought it worth stealing in Vienna. “Well, at least I know how he found me.”
Laurie stood up and went to turn the Closed sign to Open. “Then you are not married to him?”
She shook her head. “We were engaged to be married once, but… I found him to be untrustworthy, so I left him and came back to England. But I knew he would follow me. Not for love, never believe that. So, I hid behind your name, behind the anonymity of Maida and Renwick’s.”
“I’m sorry,” he said miserably. “I was trying to do the right thing.”
And he was hurt, she saw, hurt by her lack of trust in him, perhaps. Or by the idea that she could have been married to another man. Not that she and Laurie had ever regarded each other as anything but friends. At least she had not. For the first time, she wondered if Laurie could possibly have harbored other feelings for her.
Richard Gorse does.
Richard Gorse was lonely, damaged. He didn’t know what or who he wanted. The bond that tied them was delicate. Blooming, perhaps, but not necessarily hardy or even real.
She didn’t want to think that. She wanted to melt into his arms, receive more of his sensuous kisses. More and more and more and…
Pulling herself together, she forced her mind back to Laurie’s last words. “I was trying to do the right thing.”
“I know you were,” she replied kindly. “Don’t worry. It turned out there was no harm done. The evening recital went very well. And since the cat is out of the bag, I no longer need to hide. I have the chance to play at a society party, which might help my career.”
“Oh? Whose party?”
At that moment, the door opened, ringing the bell above it, and Captain Gorse walked in, gazing about him. Words and breath froze in her throat. For a moment, only the unscarred side of his face was visible, and he looked so handsome it gave her butterflies. There was still something of the soldier’s swagger about him, even moving through a cramped shop on a game leg. She could not even say to herself that he must have been splendid before his injuries. He was splendid, all the more for the vulnerabilities he had revealed to her last night.
Laurie started toward him, and he turned to face him, revealing the long, pale scar. Perhaps people thought it a shame his good looks had been so marred. For Natalie, who had never seen him unmarred, it was simply part of the man whose silent presence had comforted her and intrigued her for two years. Even here, in mundane surroundings, he quickened her heart and made it ache, even as it rejoiced.
“Welcome, sir,” Laurie said in his polite yet very un-servile way. “Is there something in particular I might help you with?”
At last, Natalie made her legs move forward. “Captain, allow me to present to you my friend, Mr. Laurie, the proprietor of the music shop. Laurie, Captain Lord Richard Gorse.”
