An Arrangement of Sorts Page 15
Moira looked away for a moment, closing her eyes against the welling moisture within them. She needed to remain calm; it would not do to become a water pot in front of a man who found kissing her disagreeable. She took a measured breath in and released it slowly, feeling some of the tension leave her body. She forced a smile and turned back. “Oh, Nathan, there’s no need to apologize for that. What I was going to say before you interrupted me was that I was grateful that you had such quick thinking. Don’t be troubled about it anymore; I was not offended in the least. You did what you had to for the sake of protecting my reputation, and I thank you for that.”
Nathan’s heart sunk and he almost snorted in derision. Her reputation had been the very last thing on his mind when he kissed her.
“It was my own fault you had to anyway,” Moira said quietly, her voice heavy with regret.
That stung worse than anything else. His regret extended only so far as it made her uncomfortable. He could never regret the kiss itself.
But if she were lamenting it, if he had affronted her in any way, then he owed her more apologies than he could ever give.
“I don’t blame you, Moira,” he assured her, fighting back the desire to hit something. “You reacted in the way you thought best for the situation, you could not have foreseen how they would react.”
“No, I couldn’t,” she sighed, her smile growing. “They were impossible to fend off, and I did try.”
“I believe it,” he said, finding himself somehow able to smile despite the pain. “The look on your face when you came down was priceless. I only wish you could have seen it.”
She groaned and shook her head. “I was absolutely petrified, Nathan. But, in spite of everything, I didn’t have to eat that horrible food, and so it worked out well enough.”
“And that is all that matters,” he affirmed with a nod, the familiarity of their banter easing him.
“Hardly, but it was important,” she laughed. “Now, I have a question for you.”
He quirked a brow at her, trying to hide the slight nervous twinge he felt. “Is it even your turn?”
“Who knows?” she asked with a roll of her eyes. “I am just going to pretend it is. Nathan, what do you want most out of life?”
His mouth popped open in surprise. That was a question he was not even sure he knew the answer to, let alone something he expected she would ask him. What did he want most in life? Oh, that she would somehow not marry Charles Allenford, that she would not care that he was actually an earl, that his brother would speak to him again, and that he would always be surrounded by family and friends that loved him. But that probably was not the answer she was looking for.
“Too personal?” she asked with a wince, misinterpreting his silence.
“No,” he said slowly, shaking his head a bit, “it just requires a bit of thought.” He sighed and considered his words carefully. “All I really want, I suppose, is to know when I leave this world, that I have done some good in it.”
Moira nodded, smiling to herself. “That’s just the sort of thing I thought you would say.”
“Is it? I would hate to think that I am predictable.”
“You are certainly not predictable, Nathan,” she said with a laugh. “I think I know you fairly well by now. It does not surprise me at all that what you want out of life is not even for or about you, really.”
“I think there is a compliment in there,” he teased, “but I could be mistaken.”
She shook her head and smiled. “If there is, it was entirely by accident, I can assure you.”
“What about you, Moira? I will ask you the same question.” He suddenly found himself wanting to know what she wanted out of life, what her hope for herself was.
“I only want to be happy,” she replied. She shrugged and smiled. “That is hardly as selfless, I know, but…”
“It’s better,” he interrupted, finding himself a bit humbled by her simple admission. “You didn’t ask for anything at all, really. You can be happy in a variety of ways, and you don’t care which. That is a good thing to want, Moira. And you deserve whatever happiness comes to you.”
“Thank you,” she said shyly, ducking her head a bit. Then she grinned mischievously. “And that was full of compliments, Nathan. You are getting careless.”
He changed the subject immediately. “So your middle name is Patience?”
“Oh, I wondered when you were going to bring that up!” she cried, putting a hand to her brow. “I thought I said you weren’t allowed to speak of it.”
He shrugged. “You said it yourself, I’m not predictable.”
“That is no excuse,” she argued, waving a finger at him. “I knew you wouldn’t let it go.”
He smiled unapologetically. “So, are you going to share? Or must I become very annoying about it?”
“Become?” she muttered with a snort. “You have yet to be anything but. Very well. Patience was my grandmother’s name, but my father could not stand her, so he was constantly apologizing for letting Mother name me after her. We used to make up pretend middle names for me.”
“And which was your favorite?”
“Elizabeth,” she said with a fond smile. “It always sounded so grand and elegant to me. I longed to be an Elizabeth.”
He smiled in return. “It would have suited you.”
“That’s what my father said,” she laughed. “He used to call me Moira Elizabeth, even when Mother forbade him to.”
“Then I will ignore the name given you at your birth, and think of you as Moira Elizabeth as well,” he promised.
“Really?” she asked, still grinning.
He nodded. “Really.”
She seemed so delighted by the notion that Nathan almost laughed. But she said nothing else, as if she were more than content just by that detail alone.
In spite of her contentment, Nathan couldn’t help wondering when she was going to ask him about the question he had passed on. He repeatedly looked over at her, knowing it had to be forthcoming. Yet she looked as satisfied as could be.
Finally, he couldn’t stand it anymore. “Well, aren’t you going to ask me?”
She looked at him in surprise. “Ask you what? Your middle name?”
“No,” he said, confused by her confusion, “about what I said not to talk about, since I asked about yours.”
She shrugged. “No, actually. You said you didn’t want to talk about it, and it seemed a trifle more important than a distasteful middle name, so I had no intention of asking about it ever.”
“Honestly?”
“Yes, honestly,” she replied matter-of-factly.
He stared at her in awe. She was entirely serious. This was not a ploy to get him to talk about it out of some bizarre sense of reciprocation. She was not going to ask him about something that he had said he did not want to share.
But oddly enough, he didn’t want to hide it from her any more. Limited though the information might be, he wanted her to know.
“I’m going to tell you anyway,” he said suddenly, bringing Mercury closer so he would not feel as though he were shouting.
“Nathan, you don’t have to,” she told him, her eyes sober and clear.
“I know, and I appreciate that,” he responded with a smile. “But we have each passed on one question, and you were gracious enough to share yours anyway, and I would like to do the same.”
She watched him carefully for a long moment, and then she nodded. “If you are certain, I would be honored to hear it.”
“I don’t know if honor is the word to use,” he told her with a shake of his head. “It’s not something I am proud of.” He sighed heavily, and began: “I am the older of two sons. No other children. My father and mother had a very good marriage, and in fact, that is my mother's ring you have been using.”
“What?” Moira gasped, looking down at the simple band around her finger.
He nodded. “I wasn’t going to tell you that, but it seems silly not to now.”
“Well, now you know. At any rate, they were very happy, and raised us well. My father was a strict man, but never cruel. He encouraged us to always better ourselves, and to do something useful with our lives, regardless of circumstances. He had expectations for us to meet, and responsibilities that we were supposed to bear.” Nathan smiled sadly at the memories, then cleared his throat and looked back at Moira. “He died when I was fifteen, and I was left to care for Mother and Spencer. Mother was never very well after that, but she was always kind. We took great pains to see that she was well cared for while we were away at school. One of the neighbor girls, Anna, was particularly very good to her. She became her companion, and a constant friend. In due course, Spencer and Anna formed an attachment, and I was more than pleased to give my consent for them to be wed when they were old enough. After I had been in the army for two years or so, I received word that Mother was very ill, and I rushed back.”
“When you left your men,” she said in recollection.
He did not respond to her comment. “I arrived to find her close to death. Spencer was a mess, and Anna was distraught. I sat up with Mother all that night, and Spencer relieved me early in the morning, so I could sleep for a few hours. That continued for a few days. But one night, during Anna’s watch, I could not sleep. I went in to Mother’s room and found Anna holding her hand and crying. I went to comfort her, she was the closest thing to a sister I have ever known, and she turned to me. I held her for a few moments while she cried, and Spencer came in and saw us. He started yelling at me for talking such liberties with his betrothed, which I denied emphatically.
“Soon we were arguing, him blaming me for my absence to some ridiculous army when Mother needed me, and me telling him that if he had stopped spending all of his time mooning over Anna then he could have been of more help. All the while, Anna sat there and heard every word, still holding onto Mother’s hand.” He was forced to stop by the sudden rawness in his throat. “Suddenly, Anna screamed and began to sob, and our fighting ceased. At some point during our arguing, Mother had slipped away. We had been too involved with hurling the most injurious things we could at each other, that we had not even said our goodbyes. Spencer cried out his despair and sank into one of the chairs, but I couldn’t move. I couldn’t speak.”
He swallowed back the pain that was as fresh and raw as it had felt then, and shook his head. “We had a graveside service for her a few days later, but I don’t recall any of it. The only thing I remember from that time is three days after the service, when my brother came into my study and overturned my chair while I was still in it. As I looked up at him from where I had fallen, he said, ‘Now I have lost the only women I have ever loved. I hope one day you know what that feels like’.”
“Women?” Moira asked, interrupting gently. “Plural?”
Nathan nodded, the motions jerky. “Anna decided she could not marry him after all. I’m not sure if it was our fight as Mother died, or if it was the pain of memory, but she broke things off and her family moved to Shropshire.”
“Poor Spencer,” she murmured softly.
“He left shortly after that, and I haven’t seen him since,” Nathan continued, as if she had not spoken. “We have not communicated at all. That is why I was so determined to act so foolishly that day in the army. I had thought only of what I wanted and not of what was needed. I had abandoned my responsibilities at home, and in doing so, I had turned my back on the duty owed to my family. My brother had lost everything dear to him because I was too careless to have a clear thought in my head. And now he hates me.”
“Oh, Nathan,” she said, reaching over to put a hand on his. “I’m sure he doesn’t hate you. He was angry and hurt, and probably hating himself more than you, but you were the most convenient outlet. You must not blame yourself anymore.”
He shook his head. “You didn’t see his face, Moira. There was hatred in his eyes.”
“Perhaps in that moment he thought he did, Nathan, I don’t know. All I know is that you need to fix that relationship.”
“How can I? It seems fairly impossible at the moment.”
“I can’t tell you how, Nathan,” she sighed, looking away and removing her hand. “I don’t even know. All I know is that I would give everything I have for one more day with my brother, even if we were to spend it fighting.”
He winced at her soft words. “I’m sorry,” he murmured.
“I am not the one you need to be apologizing to,” she said, giving him a very serious look.
“But I tried to!” he cried, throwing his hands up into the air. “He doesn’t want to be my brother! I have received no word from him, and no hint at any sort of reconciliation. It does not even matter that he was in the wrong, and…”
“Oh, Nathan, don’t you see?” she interrupted with a pitying smile. “It’s not about who was right or who was wrong. It’s about putting the past where it belongs, letting go of your pride and hurt and anger, and realizing that all that matters is each other. You would be surprised at what sort of miracles can take place when one only has the courage to take a first step in the right direction.”
They were forced to take shelter at an inn midway through the afternoon as a storm swept through the area. They barely made it in before the thunder and lightning began. Thankfully, there was a room for them, should they need to stay for the night, which it was beginning to look like they would. Not that Nathan was about to complain, he was not in any further hurry to get to Preston than they needed to be. Torturous as it was, he wanted to spend as much time with Moira as he possibly could, regardless of the setting or situation.
After they had eaten, and when it became apparent that they would not be able to go anywhere that night, they took refuge in the room that they had been given. Moira now sat by the window staring out at the rain as it lessened, and smiling at the dispersing clouds.
Nathan was sitting on the floor by the fire, content just to look at her, not really caring if she noticed. It was her turn for the stables tonight, and he knew she had no intention of giving that up, storm or no storm. He had learned that it was best not to fight her when she had made her mind up. But watching her now, seeing the simple pleasure she took in the aftermath of a storm and the appearance of the stars from behind the clouds, he could not let her leave. He could not be apart from her.
Not tonight.
Her future did not involve nor concern him, and could not, but he was just selfish enough to want to pretend that for one night, it could. He wanted to watch her wake up in the morning and see how long it really took her to fall asleep at night.
He didn’t want her to go.
She looked exhausted, but somehow still so beautiful. She had let her hair down hours ago, and he loved the way it flowed down her shoulders. He loved how it curled only at the very ends. He loved that she was sitting with her knees tucked into her chest with her skirt draped so modestly over them. He loved that she was barefoot, and that her boots had been the first thing to go.
It was amazing to him how easy it was to admit to himself that he loved her. He could not help loving her. It was the most natural thing in the world.
She made him want to be better; she challenged him, encouraged him, teased him, taught him in ways that he never dreamed anyone would or could.
He could not have expected any of this, not for a man of his nature and expectations. But he realized now that, secretly, he had been lonely for a long time. He was tired of the days and nights alone. He had spent a good portion of his adult life wondering about love, and now he had found it, but couldn’t have it. The irony made him ache in places he did not know existed.
He had shared more of himself with her than he had with anyone. She knew him better than any other person ever had. How could he give her up when all of this was over? For what had to be the thousandth time, he cursed her betrothed. And yet, had the man not been foolish enough to leave h
er, then their own paths would never have crossed. He would never have met her, never known the sweet fulfillment that she brought to his once lifeless heart.
He could not let her go.
Unless he knew she would be happy. Only then might it be possible for him to do so. Even then, it would hurt like hell, and he knew it.
But tonight, she was here. He would never ask her to betray her betrothed, but tonight he needed her near him.
“Stay with me tonight.”
She turned towards him with a jerk, her eyes wide, her cheeks flushing slightly. “What?”
“Just tonight. Don’t go out to the stables. Stay.”
Her expression was impossible to read, and his heart stopped. “Why?”
For a long moment, he debated his answer. The truth would not be wise nor fair, not when they were so close to her… their… journey’s end. But neither could he lie. He opted for a different truth.
“It’s late,” he said with a shrug. “The stable will be damp and chilled, the streets flooded. I cannot let you sleep out there like that. I can’t have you taking ill. The innkeeper and patrons all think we are married, so…” He could see her indecision, her wariness in her eyes, but he could also see a glimmer of something else he did not dare identify. “I won’t touch you,” he murmured. “That’s not what I mean. Just… please stay tonight. I… I need you to stay.”
She continued to watch him steadily for a long moment, then she nodded slowly and turned her gaze back to the sky, her face still flushed. His heart soared within him, and he closed his eyes and sighed softly. Tomorrow would come and they would be themselves again. But not tonight.
Nathan wondered if he would regret this; being so close and so far away at the same time, glimpsing heaven but never allowed to touch it. He didn’t care, he decided. He had tonight. He would not regret it.
He could not.
Nathan spread out his bedroll in front of the fire, still hardly able to believe that Moira had agreed to stay tonight. She was already situated in the bed, watching him work, looking rather content. She was supposed to be trying to sleep, but she wasn’t.