Page 43 of A Mayfair Maid
“And I like the name on your lips,” he said his eyes intense. The heat seemed to rise between them, but then he groaned, changing the subject abruptly. “My mother would etch your words into a placard if she knew that there was another that agreed with her preference.”
“Is that what it is?” Marilee giggled. “Your mother calls you Nikolas.”
“She, and only she,” he admitted, “besides those who do not know better.”
“I suppose then that I ought to cease,” Marilee grumbled and heaved a feigned sigh if resignation. “If the name reminds you of your mother…” She grinned impishly at him.
“No,” Nikolas turned toward her, his entrancing gaze making the breath catch in her throat. “You may call me whatever you like.”
Marilee felt a blush rise to her cheeks. How in a matter of moments had their teasing turned into something quite different? Something… hot and personal. She quickly turned away to hide the sudden desire of her flesh, but his gloved fingers caught her chin and coaxed her to look back in his direction. The moment held suspended, and she could feel the spark between them. His simple gloved touch on her face was not enough…would never be enough. She wanted more. She wanted to fall into his arms. She wanted him to hold her and never let go.
She shot to her feet and took a few steps away, toward the wall, sucking in a strengthening breath. There was a gentle snow that had begun to fall, but it had felt as warm as a mid-summer’s day on that bench. Even yet, her skin felt flushed with desire as if a random sun had scorched her flesh.
“I should…” she blustered. “We should…” She had no idea what she was supposed to say, so instead she turned her face up to the twinkling lights in the sky and begged for a distraction. “Look at the moon,” she blurted. At once she clenched her eyes shut. What a daft thing to say. In her attempt to cover up her stammers she made some halfhearted comment about how that great orb in the sky was lit to its full glory this evening. What she had not noticed was that Nikolas had come to stand beside her until his shoulder brushed against her own leaving a searing trail of heat in its path.
Perhaps the darkness of the night would hide her blush, but with the fullness of the moon, Marilee doubted it could. Her heart hammered in her chest, all the way up to her throat. Her hands hung loosely at her sides as she stood frozen, too on edge to move even the slightest. She should move away, but she could not; not when she wanted to throw herself into his arms and beg him to take her away, to protect her. She could feel his gaze upon her, but she kept her own resolutely turned to the sky. If she looked at him, she knew what she would see—his kind eyes, his full lips, his patient smile. Perhaps if she pretended he was not here, then this ache in her stomach would go away. But she could not pretend. The scent of him filled her nostrils. Every inch of her felt him, saw him, as if she did not even need her eyes to know exactly where he was or what he was doing at any moment, so in tune, they were. She was keenly aware of his attention, and his silence, as he watched the battle rage within her.
She continued to take consciously slow even breaths, hoping against hope that he could not hear the tremor in her breath, but she knew better. If there was one thing that she had come to know about Nikolas in their short time together it was that, above all else, he was observant. After what seemed an eternity, he spoke. His voice was calm and steady, soothing, and some part of her soul felt the urge to be drawn into it despite her resistance.
“Do you know,” he began with a swift glance to the sky before settling his gaze back to Marilee, “my grandfather used to say that the moon changed phases to remind us that even on the darkest of nights there is always some light even if it is only the twinkling of stars. Sometimes the moon is small and we have to work to look for it, hidden by clouds. Sometimes, like tonight, it blazes before us despite the shadows that surround it, and it overtakes the blackness, becomes something that no matter where you look, you cannot miss, so bright is the light.”
Marilee released the breath that she had been holding in a quivering rush. His gaze had remained locked on her as he spoke. Her, not the moon, and she knew beyond a doubt that his grandfather’s lesson had been about much more than the ability to see in the dark.
Perhaps even in this bleak time of her life, there could still be a sliver of light. Was it possible to find good in this terrible situation? Could good still triumph? Perhaps, holding on to that inner light would give her strength.
He must have seen some change in her, sensed it, though she was certain that she had not moved an inch, for ever so slowly she felt his hand join hers. He stood at her back, the warmth of him a welcome heat in the cold, as he pulled her body against his. He was so very warm…so very masculine…his arms so strong. She could not help herself, she leaned back against him, and he put his arms around her as his own face sheltered against her neck. He inhaled slowly. “The light is there,” he whispered against her skin. “You must believe in it. See it in your mind’s eye, even when you are locked in the bleakness of the laundry room.
“We are not locked there,” she said.
“There are many kinds of locks,” he replied. “Many kinds of prisons. The worst are those men make for themselves.”
* * *
Marilee kepta stubborn focus on the moon while she failed to steady her breath. She could not look at him, for she was too afraid of what she might see if she did. Yet, she allowed her fingers to curl between his and grasped his hand for all that she was worth. Was she, his light? Could he be hers? Even with all of the horrors that surrounded her, even with all of the fear and hurt, and the thought that there might be no future to be had, could she, despite all of that, find good in this moment? Was it not a betrayal of her hatred for Blackwell house if she found a small spark of happiness while she was here? Did it take away from the horrible nature of these people if she was grateful that she had met someone, two people rather, who she had come to care about with such depth? Was it wrong? Or, was it human nature, as he had said, to search out the light, no matter how dark the night?
She felt her brow furrow, the question on her lips as she turned toward him before realizing what she had done. She tipped her head up to speak and beheld him transfixed.
The ardent gaze that met her own hit her and filled her like Cupid’s dart. Their hands still intertwined; Marilee opened her mouth as if to speak though she had no words to say. The emotion filling her was bright as the moon, swift as a breeze blowing over her.
Nikolas wrapped his other hand about her waist and pulled her tight against him. Their bodies met length for length and Marilee again lost her breath in a gasp. Her free hand grasped his shoulder, uncertain, but she looked back into his eyes, darkened with passion, and she felt as if she were drowning in those liquid pools. She saw tenderness there, and passion and strength.
“I…” she shook her head. She had no experience in the world of men and this was all so new, sensations and a headiness that she could never have anticipated filled her.
* * *
“I’m sorry,”Nikolas murmured and loosened his grip, making to pull away.
On instinct, Marilee dropped her hand from his shoulder and swung it behind her, pinning his hand back in place at her waist.
“Don’t be,” she whispered. “Don’t be sorry.” She did not know where to go from there, only that she did not want him to release his hold upon her. She pressed forward, not that it made much of a difference, for they were already locked as close as physically possible considering the bulk of their winter attire.
“I need you,” she breathed, and she realized for the first time she meant it. She meant it with all of her heart, and she didn’t just mean she needed him to save her from Blackwood house. No. The need went much deeper than that.
One corner of Nikolas’s mouth flexed a small, half-smile that was her undoing.
Before he could tell her whether it was the right thing or not, she arched up to the tips of her toes and pressed her lips against his with none of the hesitation of one as unpracticed as she. His arms joined to surround her and tightened to hold her close. Marilee threw her own about his shoulders, her fingers diving into the hair at the base of his neck of their own accord.
Consumed by the kiss, she had no idea how long they stood there in the garden, drinking in the passion of one another. It might have been minutes or hours for all she knew, but there was a warmth and a light within her now that would not be extinguished. No evil could touch her; not with love in her heart.