Читать книгу The Complete Regency Bestsellers And One Winters Collection - Rebecca Winters - Страница 85

Chapter Fourteen

She was wrapped in the warmth of wool and settled onto the generous blue sofa in the downstairs parlour.

Cassandra had had her hair washed and her body powdered and her feet were swathed in slippers of the finest lambswool, a present from William and one he had bought for his wife just before she had died.

She felt blessed. Jamie was cuddled into her side, and Nathaniel sat on a leather chair only a few feet away.

‘If you had not been there, Grandfather, this could have all turned out far differently.’ Her husband’s words held a reverence and respect that was heartwarming.

‘Which just goes to show that there is life in the old boy yet.’ She saw William’s hand rest lightly on Nathaniel’s shoulder. They had spoken privately, she knew, before coming downstairs and the feud that had parted them seemed all but gone.

Reginald also had turned out to be a surprise. He had offered Cassandra a more than generous amount to be put into the coffers of the Daughters of the Poor plus the free use of a property that he owned in Aldwych as a place to set up further employment. Compensation for his poor choice of friends, he had told everyone. He had also decided to leave the Venus Club.

When Cassie glanced over at Nathaniel she saw that he was watching her closely.

‘Good things come out of bad,’ he said and smiled, though when his eyes settled on the marks at her throat an edge of anger was still visible.

Protection. It was so very relaxing. She closed her eyes and slept.

* * *

Much later when she awoke she found that she was back in their own chamber, but Nathaniel was not in bed with her. He stood at the window, looking over the land of the Lindsays, a moon hanging in the sky. The calmness that was so much a part of him made her smile and she simply watched.

‘You cannot sleep, Nathaniel?’

The effects of the toddy the housekeeper had made for her had almost worn off now, and Cassie felt as if the shadows and mirrors she had lived with all her life had been thrown away somehow, the strong lines of hope exposed by love instead.

‘I could not live if you left me, Sandrine. I could not find a way to keep on going. Today when I thought...’ His voice broke, and he turned away, but not before she saw the moisture on his cheeks and the terror in his eyes. ‘I never slept with another woman after Perpignan. It has always been just you.’

Pushing back the covers, she joined him at the window, winding her arms about his coldness and infusing warmth.

‘Love holds no barriers, my darling. Time. Distance. Space. They are just words against love. We will always be together because we will always love.’

‘Do you promise?’

‘Come to bed and I will show you how I know,’ she whispered, the heat of ardour rising. ‘Let me take you to a place that is only ours.’

‘Like the memory of the high baths above Bagnères-de-Bigorre?’

She nodded and, taking his arm, led him back to the warm nest of their bed.

As often thro’ the purple night,

Below the starry clusters bright,

Some bearded meteor trailing light,

Moves over still Shalott.

* * * * *