Nicholas - By Grace Burrowes Page 0,88

seen like this,” Nick said. He sounded so sad, so lost.

“He is disporting with his wives and mistresses, or so you told me.”

A ghost of a smile passed over Nick’s mouth. “Come, else I shall weep like a small boy missing the only person who could ever make me feel like a small boy, regardless of evidence to the contrary.” And yet he didn’t move and he didn’t give up Leah’s hand. “I don’t want to be Bellefonte,” Nick said softly. “I never wanted to be the earl.”

And maybe there was guilt here, for not wanting what his father would bequeath to him. That would be utter male nonsense, of course, but because it was Nick’s male nonsense, Leah shifted to embrace him.

“No loving son wants his father’s title, Nicholas, unless it’s to spare his father a greater sentence to a painful existence.”

Nick’s arms came around her slowly, maybe reluctantly. “Papa didn’t want the title either, and yet he was a fine earl, all things considered. A very fine earl.”

That was not nonsense. That was something Nick could hold close, as Leah held her husband close.

He shifted, so his arm was draped over her shoulders. “Come upstairs with me?”

As if she’d drift away from him now? “Of course.”

And yet, “upstairs” held a curious development. Being newly wed, Leah and her husband had been housed in Nick’s bedroom. Both of their trunks were empty and sitting open at the foot of Nick’s enormous bed. Well, they were married—and the earl’s chambers would require airing and possible redecoration.

Perhaps it simply hadn’t occurred to Nick to direct that Leah be quartered elsewhere. He was that distracted by his bereavement.

Leah sent up a silent prayer of thanks to the late earl.

“I’m of a mind to take a nap,” Nick said, sitting down and tugging at his boots. “If you’d join me, I’d appreciate it.” Leah glanced at the bed and then back at Nick, but she couldn’t fathom the motivation for his request.

Maybe it was as simple as Nick being tired and unwilling to be alone.

Or perhaps he was aware, as Leah was, of how close they had come to declaring their marriage over before it had begun.

“A nap sounds fine.” Leah crossed the room and sat beside Nick, turning her back only when he’d finished with his boots. His fingers made short work of the hooks and eyes on her dress and the laces of her stays, but then he slid his arms around her waist and held on, a shudder passing through him, then a sigh.

“Off to bed with you,” Nick said, rising and drawing her to her feet. “I’ll be along shortly.”

Leah stripped down to her chemise while Nick undressed himself, but when she saw he intended to come to bed naked, she paused. What was this, and what did she want to do about it?

“I’m just getting comfortable,” Nick said, climbing onto the bed. “You could fill this bed with naked women, Leah, and at present, I could do justice to none of them.”

He was both rejecting her—not that she’d offered anything—and accepting her. She decided to focus on the acceptance, whipped off the chemise, and joined Nick on the bed.

Though that left at least five feet of cool mattress and bedding between them.

“Meet me in the middle?”

He was asking her for something, or maybe admitting that in these circumstances, he was entitled to the comfort of having a loyal wife. After a moment’s hesitation, Leah crab-flopped herself over a couple of feet and lay back, letting Nick take her hand in his.

“Let me hold you, Nicholas,” she said. “I just… I don’t want you to be alone in this bed, not today.”

He was in her arms in a heartbeat, his cheek resting against her breast, his thigh hiked over her legs. He let out the sigh to end all sighs, and closed his eyes, his lashes sweeping against her skin.

“How will I last until Friday, Leah?” Nick asked softly. “The neighbors will swarm, as will the well-meaning friends. The house will be full of people, when all I want is to be alone with my family. I comprehend now why there is always libation at wakes and viewings and funeral buffets.”

Leah tightened her hold on him, feeling the kind of ferocious protectiveness she’d directed previously only toward her son. He might not know it, but Nicholas trusted her the way a man ought to trust his wife. With painful certainty, Leah realized she did not want to lose him.

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