Cast in Ice (15 page)

She wondered if her sister-in-law Eve felt this way when she touched Gideon. Or if Rachael experienced these same emotions when she touched Ben. Was this how it felt to be in love? Was this what women had experienced from the beginning of time that gave them the courage to leave the safety and security of their families, and entrust their lives to a man they’d often known as short a time as she’d known Nick?

Her vision blurred as she reminded herself what a fool she was. She could never expect Nick to return her feelings. Not after what had happened to him. She’d be fortunate if he didn’t hate her. Fortunate if he didn’t blame her for every raw, open cut across his back. Because what Ellsworth had done had been her fault.

If she hadn’t gone to
The Dove
after he’d warned her to stay away, none of this would have happened.

The price she was paying for what her mother had done grew greater every day. And no matter how far into the future she looked, she couldn’t see a time that she wouldn’t regret.

Her prayers had been answered. Three days had passed and Nick hadn’t developed a fever. And he was getting stronger.

Last night Hodgekens gave him permission to sit on the edge of the bed. Two footmen helped him up, and he stayed up long enough to eat a bite for dinner. He was showing signs of improvement.

Today Hodgekens told her that he’d managed to sit a little longer.

She wouldn’t know. Now that he was better, she avoided being with him when he was awake and only returned to his room when he slept.

She knew it was cowardly of her, but she wasn’t brave enough to face him. She wasn’t ready yet to see the anger in his eyes, or explain to him why she’d returned to
The Dove
when he’d warned her to stay away.

Her actions had caused him so much pain she was certain he wouldn’t want to see her, let alone be in the same room with her.

It had been different when they were still in London. He’d been in so much pain that she knew he wasn’t thinking clearly enough to realize she was there. And even after they’d arrived at Townsend Manor, he’d spent a great deal of his time sleeping for the first few days.

But now was different. He stayed awake longer, and had improved enough that he could ask her questions she didn’t want to answer.

After what had happened, she’d feel guilty when she refused to answer his questions. He deserved answers. He deserved to know why she’d gone to
The Dove
that night, and why she was so desperate for the money she could win at the tables. But she couldn’t tell him.

If she were wise, she’d bring in someone trained in nursing. But she couldn’t bear the thought of not being with him, of not spending every moment she could with him, even if he was asleep.

She knew the day would come soon enough when she’d have to face his revulsion and disgust. When he’d look at her and she’d see how repulsed he was by the sight of her. When he’d realize how scarred his body was, and hate her because the marks on his back were her fault.

How could she expect any other reaction from him after what he’d suffered to protect her?

Winnie rose and walked to the window. The shadows were lengthening as the sun began its descent. He’d been asleep several hours and would be waking soon. She should leave. Instead, she returned to her chair and reached for his hand. She needed to touch him. Needed to feel his flesh against hers. This contact with him was important. She didn’t know if or when she’d have the opportunity to be with him again.

She sat at his bedside a few more minutes, then rose to put salve on his back before she left. She should have done this earlier, but she hadn’t. Now she’d have to hurry to finish before he woke.

She worked as quickly as she could, but something in her awareness changed. The intensity in the room altered the same as the weather took on a vibrancy just before a thunderstorm. It was as if lightning had struck to electrify the air in the room.

That was when she realized he was awake. That it was too late to escape without having to come up with an excuse that he’d believe as to why she’d avoided him.

She worked without speaking because…there was nothing to say that would make up for what she’d done. How could such insufficient words like
“I’m sorry”
undo what had been done to him? How could she expect him to forgive her when she couldn’t forgive herself?

Minute after minute stretched on in interminable silence, and she still couldn’t bring herself to speak.

“How long are you going to avoid me?” he asked.

“I haven’t avoided you. I’ve come every day to check on you.”

“You only come when I’m asleep, and make sure you leave before I wake.”

Winnie continued to work as rapidly as she could. She didn’t want to have this conversation. “I can’t spend all my time here. I have work to do. Townsend Manor doesn’t run itself.”

“I know how much time you spend with me. I know how many days and nights you’ve gone without sleep and food. The days you sat at my bedside and held my hand. And I know about the tears you shed when you don’t think anyone will see you.”

Winnie stopped applying damp cloths to his back. She didn’t want to talk to him about this. She didn’t want to stay here any longer. She dropped her cloth into the basin of water.

“I’ll send Hodgekens to finish,” she said, then turned to leave. His voice stopped her.

“Don’t leave, Winnie.”

She clutched the handle of the bedroom door, knowing she should open the door and leave. But her feet wouldn’t obey the order her mind issued.

“Come here. Please.”

She hesitated, then turned. She tried to keep the tears at bay, but she’d gone so long without sleep. Her nerves were stretched to the breaking point, and she felt as if she were about to shatter into a million pieces. Even when she’d forced herself to lie down, she hadn’t been able to sleep.

She didn’t want to stay with him, nor could she bring herself to leave him. She crossed the room and sat in the chair beside his bed.

“You look worse than I do,” he said, in an effort to add humor to the tense situation. “Haven’t you heard? That shade of bluish-green isn’t the rage this Season.”

She laughed even though she didn’t think she’d be able to. “And don’t you know you’re always supposed to compliment a lady’s looks, even when there’s nothing to compliment?”

“I’ll always be able to find something to compliment you about, Winnie.”

She shook her head. “Don’t. I don’t need your lies. I know what I did. I know that you must hate me. And I don’t blame you.”

“Then you don’t know anything,” he said. “I don’t hate you. I’d never be able to hate you. No matter what. I might be angry with you, but never anything more than that.”

Winnie rose to her feet and stepped to the window where he couldn’t see her face. Where she didn’t have to face him.

“When will you let me help you?” he asked from the other side of the room.

She pressed her forehead against the window pane. If only he knew how desperately she wanted and needed his help. But asking him to help her would destroy her family. Asking for his help would force him to take steps she couldn’t allow him to take.

“Can you ever be honest with me?” he asked. His tone had a pleading quality to it.

“Is that what you want?”

“Yes,” he answered. “Honesty and openness. There can’t be anything else between us. Not for us to have a future.”

“You’re assuming there will be a future between us.”

“Are you saying there won’t?”

Winnie knew what words she should say. But she couldn’t be honest with him. Not yet. Which meant that there couldn’t be a future for them.

For several moments neither of them spoke. When he did, it was to ask for her assistance.

“Would you help me sit?”

“I’ll get the footmen for you.”

“No, all I need is your hand.”

Winnie walked to the bed.

“Swing my feet over the edge, then take my hand. I’ll do most of the work. I just need you as an anchor.”

Winnie followed Nick’s instructions, and with little trouble, he turned to sit on the edge of the bed. He wore satin pants, and a blanket covered his legs, but he was bare from the waist up.

From the cringing expression on his face, it pained him to move. He sucked in a harsh breath through gritted teeth, then released it. Only when he was settled did the rapid breaths cease.

“Now, bring your chair near me and sit,” he said, motioning to the chair nearby.

Winnie did as he asked, and faced him. “We don’t need to have this conversation,” she started to say, but his upheld hand stopped her.

“We do need to have this conversation. It’s time. Enough has happened to you. And to me. I’d say it is past time.”

She couldn’t hold his gaze. She couldn’t look him in the eyes. She thought about the raw flesh on his back and could hardly live with herself. And then, he said the words she couldn’t bear to hear. Words that absolved her of what she’d done.

“It’s not your fault, Winnie.”

Nothing could have been more untrue. No words would have been any more difficult to hear. She didn’t know if it was possible to find any words that would heap more blame on her guilt-ridden conscience. Didn’t know if there were any words that could have stabbed through her like the sharp blade of a rapier sword. Didn’t know if there were any words that could have reached her heart and stopped it from beating.

His absolution was almost her undoing.

She couldn’t bear to have him look at her. She rose, then stepped away from him. She stumbled when she walked. She made her way to the window on the other side of the bedside table and stared out onto the neatly manicured lawns of Townsend Estate.

The world of sunshine outside seemed so different from the dark life she faced inside. So much cleaner; so much tidier. “Who then do you hold responsible if not me?” she asked. A lump had formed in her throat that threatened to stop her words. “Do you think Basil Ellsworth would have flayed your back raw if I hadn’t gone to
The Dove
? Do you think they would have even noticed me if I hadn’t won such a large amount?” She paused. “How often have you wished you would have let me suffer the penalty that was coming to me for not heeding your warning? How often have you wished you hadn’t come to save me?”

He didn’t answer because there was no answer that would support his assumption that she was innocent in what had happened to him. No words that would have excused what she’d done.

“Why did you go?” he finally asked. “You knew—”

“Yes, I knew. But…I didn’t have a choice.”

A lone tear threatened to spill from her eye and she blinked several times to stop it. She wouldn’t allow any tears. The time for tears was long past. The decision she’d made to let the world believe her mother was dead had sealed her fate. And tears were a sign of weakness. The result of self-pity.

Thankfully, Tilly knocked, then entered the room with a tray Cook had sent up from the kitchen

“Tilly, help Mr. Stillman with his supper, then have Jamie and Charlie help him when he’s ready to go to bed. I’m going to my room.”

“Yes, my lady. Do you want me to bring up a tray for you?”

Winnie shook her head. “I’m not hungry.”

Then she walked to the door.

“Don’t go,” he said. His voice was soft. His words contained the hint of a plea. As well as a trace of a demand.

“I’m tired,” she answered, then stepped out into the hallway. She needed to escape him. Needed to be as far away from him as she could. Even though guilt consumed her and she couldn’t face him for what she’d done, every part of her being wanted to run to him and beg his forgiveness. More than anything on earth, she wanted him to hold her, and love her, and never let her go.

And that frightened her more than anything else could.

. . .

She’d avoided him for three days, but she couldn’t avoid him any longer. She told herself she was being childish. She told herself she was being cowardly, but the truth was, she couldn’t bear to be separated from him any longer. She needed to be near him.

Winnie walked down the cobbled path in the back garden. He’d improved enough that he could go out of doors, and Charlie and Jamie had helped him to the nearest stone bench located on the path. She saw him before he saw her, and she stopped to study him.

The shirt he wore was of the lightest weight material they could find. She knew he’d prefer to have nothing touching his back, but propriety dictated that he be covered at least this much.

His profile was sheer perfection, from his broad forehead to his high cheekbones, to the strong cut of his jaw. He’d lost a bit of weight since he’d been whipped, but his strength would no doubt return once he was well enough to eat again. She anticipated the day he’d recovered enough to return to London and knew she should look forward to that day. He was a threat to her. A threat to her family. And an even greater threat to her heart.

But no matter how hard she tried, she wasn’t brave enough, or strong enough, to do what was best for her heart. And so she dreaded the day when he’d recovered enough to leave her and return to London.