“We,” he repeated, his voice a slide of velvet over her. “It has always been you and me. You are the only one for me, though I do not deserve you. You don’t even know all my sins. I—”
“Shh,” she whispered, rising on her tiptoes, her body sliding along his—hard flesh to her softness. She found her intended mark and brushed her lips to his. “I know them. I know of you not pulling back in the race with Owen, and you already told me of your brother and Helen. I know your heart, too. You never set out to intentionally hurt either of them, Nash.” She met his eyes. “I know your sins, and I command you to forgive yourself—for you and me.”
He cupped her face, his large hand splaying hotly against her skin. “I love you, Lilias. I have loved you since the day I first saw you crossing that log barefoot.”
“And I love you,” she said, melting into him as he brushed his lips to hers now. “I have loved you since the day you jumped into the river to save me, then dragged me out and chastised me like the moody, imperfect hero you are.”
Nash arched his eyebrows. “There’s such a thing as an imperfect hero?”
“Oh yes,” she said, sighing into his mouth as it covered her in a greedy kiss. His lips were warm and persuasive, and the series of slow, deep kisses he gave her made her knees weak. When he pulled back, she said, “The most glorious heroes are imperfect ones, Nash, because they, more than any others, need their heroines.”
“Ah,” he replied, tracing a line of feathery kisses up to her mouth once more. “That sounds just like me, because I need you with me from this moment until forever. Marry me, Lilias,” he said, sliding his hands from her face to her back to hold her tight. “Marry me and let me spend my life loving you.”
“I thought you would never ask,” she said, circling her arms around his neck, and meeting his hungry kiss with one of her own.
The next day, Lilias stood hand in hand with Nash as he confronted his mother. Lilias wasn’t the least bit worried when the dowager duchess shot her a withering glare. Lilias had seen what Nash was capable of last night, the lengths he would go to in order to keep her safe. Not only had he stopped Levine from hurting her but Nash had deftly dealt with the authorities in getting Levine carted off. She suspected, Levine would end up in Bedlam with his actions and the way he’d raved as they’d taken him away.
Nash had seen her safely home after that and had placated her mother, who was awake and frantic, and then charmingly and politely asked her mother for permission to marry Lilias. Of course, Mama had promptly granted it. And then this morning, he’d shown up as soon as the calling hour had rolled around, Helen Levine’s manuscript in hand. After assuring her mother he’d have her home at an appropriate hour, he’d taken her to Lady Katherine’s and sat in his carriage as Lilias assured the woman that the manuscript would be properly destroyed.
And now they were here so Nash could confront the past that had haunted him most of his adult life. He had not spoken much of it, but his mood had grown increasingly quiet as they approached his home and his face had become set in hard lines. But still, she wasn’t worried. They had each other, and whatever secrets might be revealed, if they faced them together, she felt sure they would only grow stronger in their love.
“Why is she here?” his mother demanded, her glare turning glacial. “I demand she leave,” the duchess said before Nash could respond to her.
“Lilias is not leaving, Mother, or not permanently anyway. You are.”
“What do ye mean?” his mother asked coolly, and she quickly followed the question with, “Do not be ridiculous. This… This—” his mother waved a hand at Lilias “—personneeds to go. She’s not yer family. I am. Yer sister is.”
Nash’s fingers tightened around Lilias’s, and his shoulders subtly stiffened. She squeezed to remind him she was there for him. She caught his side glance and grateful smile, and then the fierce scowl he directed at his mother. “Lilias has agreed to become my wife, so very soon she will be staying forever, and there is no room in this house for the darkness you bring it. You can move to any house of mine you wish, except the Cotswold home or this one.”
“Ye cannot wed this woman. Ye must wed Miss Balfour. I’ve…I’ve promised Dr. Balfour.”
Annoyance settled on his face. “Why would you do that, Mother?”
Lilias found herself almost leaning toward the woman to see what she would say, but she said nothing. Instead, the woman pressed her lips together.
Nash shifted and then spoke again. “I’ve been recalling things, Mother. Things about the day Thomas died. Things I suppose I buried because they were too painful.”
Lilias felt his hurt in her own chest. She moved closer to him, and he slid his arm around her waist as if he needed her strength as much as she needed his. “My hands were cut so badly from clawing at the ice to get to Thomas that Dr. Balfour said I might not get complete use of my forefinger and thumb back on my left hand. I’d forgotten that.” Lilias looked at his hand, imagining the torment it must have been for him to try and fail to save his twin brother. “I also recalled just this morning how I very nearly drowned, as well. How Father and the stable master had to pull me out because I would not come out of the frigid water, I would not quit diving under searching for Thomas.”
“Greybourne, do not do this,” his mother said, suddenly looking frightened and sounding small.
He didn’t acknowledge her, and Lilias realized he was lost in memories he’d repressed for so long. “Dr. Balfour said I was lucky I had not died from the cold and the blood loss from the cuts. But you… Do you remember what you said to me when I awoke?”
“Greybourne.” She moaned in such an animalistic way that Lilias’s breath caught in her throat.
“I am yourson,” he said, “and you have never called me by my given name. So formal. So distant. So damn cruel.”
Tears filled Lilias’s eyes at the pain Nash had been living with caused by his own mother. “There were no kind words from you when I awoke, nor from Father. Butyou, you said that IletThomas drown. You demanded to know what I had done to make him charge me on the ice. Never once did you offer comfort. You offered condemnation, guilt, and silence. Bloody deafening silence.”
Lilias swiped at the warm tears now gliding down her cheeks and squeezed Nash’s waist. When he squeezed her back, she exhaled with relief. This moment with his mother was painful but necessary if he was ever to heal and if the life they wanted together was to have a real chance.
“I couldn’t,” Nash’s mother said on a sob. “I couldn’t give ye those things. Not because I blamed ye but because I blamed myself. And yer father blamed himself, too.”
“Explain,” Nash said, the word cold, but Lilias understood why. She understood his need to protect himself now.
Nash’s mother’s gaze darted to Lilias for a moment, then fell on Nash once more. “Ye were not the firstborn,” she whispered, sounding utterly broken now. “Thomas was. Ye were not the heir.” A bitter laugh escaped her.
“What?” Nash said, sounding shocked. Lilias herself could not have even formed that one word in this moment.
