Sweet Rogue of Mine (The Survivors #9) - Shana Galen Page 0,106
think my presence here would help.”
Nash nodded. “Probably not.” He could admit it now—he’d been out of control. He still didn’t feel he had a good grip on his control. Not unless he was with Pru.
“I thought about sending that giant friend of yours. The one with the pale blond hair and the pugilism studio.”
“Mostyn. His wife is expecting.”
“Yes, and I thought you might need someone you could talk to. Colonel Draven suggested Mr. Payne. I think that was the right decision.”
Nash let it sink in for a moment that his father had consulted Colonel Draven about him. He’d wanted to help.
“Rowden is the one responsible for all of this.” Nash gestured vaguely toward the house and grounds, which he imagined looked a good deal better than it had a few weeks ago.
“And you are doing better too.”
“I pointed a pistol at you,” Nash reminded him. “Again, apparently.”
“Yes, but you also had a woman in your bed. I took that as a good sign.”
“About that—” Nash began.
“If you are about to tell me she is not a lightskirt, you needn’t. She has already informed me of that.”
Nash couldn’t help but laugh. “Of course, she has.”
“She also told me the peacock wandering about the lawn was a sign...from God, I suppose. I have a feeling she might have done more to restore you to yourself than Wentmore or Mr. Payne.”
“She has helped me see the world again,” Nash said. “Though her view of it is quite different from what mine was when I had my sight.”
“I imagine. She is what your mother would call unconventional.”
“And what do you say?” Nash asked, surprised that he really did care.
“I call her odd. But I like her.”
“So do I,” Nash said. “I like her very much.”
Nash clasped his hands behind his back because he wanted to touch his empty coat pocket again.
“Are you thinking of marriage?” his father asked after a long moment.
Nash shook his head. “How can I when I might be sent to the asylum at any moment?” And when he might wake up and think he was in the middle of a battle and shoot her.
“And you might not. I have not decided yet, Nash. I am trying to give you every opportunity.”
“Like a dog you are training who has not yet mastered all his tricks? I won’t roll over when you whistle. If you’re to send me, then do it already. I’d rather be gone than live in this hell of indecision.” Nash walked away, ignoring his father’s calls for him to return and discuss the matter further.
He went inside and made his way into the parlor, where he sat and tried to tamp down his fears. When Rowden had arrived and told Nash of the earl’s plan, Nash had formed his own plan. If he was to be sent to an asylum, he would simply shoot himself in the head before he could be taken away.
But now he wasn’t certain he could go through with it. He didn’t want to die if there was still a chance he might be able to talk to Pru again, touch her, kiss her. Because when he was with Pru—when he even thought about Pru—he forgot his pain. He often had no idea what to say to her, what to do with her, how to react to her more outlandish statements. He wanted to pull her close and at the same time, push her away.
She scared him because he wanted her too much. She was a constant reminder that at one time he’d thought he had everything he ever wanted in life, and he’d lost it all.
He thought he had mourned those losses, but this past day and the very real prospect of losing Pru made him realize how devastating true loss might feel. The idea of living without her—truly losing her—terrified him because he could see the black void of nothingness that would be the rest of his life without her ray of sunlight piercing the dark hole in his soul.
“There you are,” Pru said, and for a moment Nash wondered if he was imagining her. But then she was beside him, her hand on his, kneeling next to his chair. “I saw you speaking with your father. Did he tell you?”
Nash gripped her hand tightly. “He’s still deciding.”
“Still...oh, you mean about the asylum. Idiot. I won’t let him send you to an asylum.” But something in her voice sounded unsure. “So then he didn’t tell you how much he loves you?”