Deeply In You Page 34

  “I am so sorry,” his sister sobbed, pressed against him. His chest was bare, except for the bandages wrapped around his torso.

  He kissed the top of her head. “You have nothing to be sorry for. The mistake—every mistake in this—has been mine. I tried to protect you when you were a girl, and I should have been more ruthless about it. But that’s in the past. It is the present and the future that matter. Jacinta and I should have let you live like the young lady you are. We wrongly thought to keep you safe, and all we did was make you unhappy. It is my fault you turned to Blackbriar, because I didn’t understand what I was keeping you from: the chance to find love and happiness. That’s what I stupidly did to myself. And it was even more stupid to do that to you. Helena—Miss Winsome, I mean—is correct. Things are going to change. You did nothing wrong in the past, Maryanne. You did nothing wrong now. You see the good in people.”

  “I don’t see anything at all,” she mumbled. “I can’t be like other girls. Won’t you be ashamed to have me in Society? I’m blind.”

  “Not ashamed.” He was horrified. “Never. Was that what you thought? Dear God, that was never my intention. I’m proud of you, Maryanne.”

  His sister glowed at his words. How lovely she was. He prayed there was a gentleman worthy of Maryanne. Now that Jacinta no longer had to worry about finding a bride for him, they could devote their time to finding the right man for Maryanne.

  As if summoned by his thoughts, Jacinta popped her head into his room. “I thought I heard your voice, Grey.” She hurried in, her belly very round, her hand resting on it. “I’ve been so worried about you!”

  Guilt tried to rear its head. She shouldn’t have had to worry about him when she was so close to her time. She shouldn’t have had to race around the county, afraid for Maryanne—

  No, it wasn’t his fault. It was Blackbriar’s fault. She looked well. And Maryanne looked so much happier than she had since she lost her sight. His nephews were—

  “Michael and Timothy.” He met Jacinta’s gaze. “How are they?”

  “Fine. They had some nightmares the first night, but Miss Winsome sat with them. Last night, they slept soundly. They are young and will recover.” His sister smiled at Helena. “Now, I think Maryanne and I will leave the two of you alone.”

  He lifted his brow. His sister smiled at his former mistress as if they were good friends. That brought a warm glow to his heart. It also made him suddenly nervous.

  He knew what he had to do. He cleared his throat. And said . . .

  “Wait—the first night? How many hours have I slept?”

  Damn, damn, damn. That was not what he wanted to come out.

  Helena was tidying things on his bedside table. She poured him a glass of water and put it in his hand. “Hours? You have gone in and out of consciousness for three days. We’ve all been terribly worried.”

  Now he saw the dark rings beneath her eyes, the pallor of her skin. “Have you slept?” he asked, guessing that she hadn’t. He knew she must have spent hours by his bedside, ignoring her own health. After what she’d been through, her thoughts had been for him.

  He was humbled. Hades, he didn’t deserve it.

  “You haven’t asked about your wound. How bad it is.”

  She spoke slowly, which should make him worry. And it suddenly did. If he was to have a crippled arm, maybe he wouldn’t be good enough....

  “Is it bad?” he asked. “Does the sawbones think I won’t be able to use my arm?”

  “No, it isn’t bad at all. In fact, Doctor Penworth feels you were very fortunate. The pistol shot did not go through your chest, which I feared it had done. It grazed your shoulder. There was some damage, but he is confident it will heal.”

  “Good. Helena, there’s something I have to tell you.”

  Ask her. Ask her now.

  Damn it, he couldn’t. She had stayed up with him over the last three days. But could she forgive him? He had to say something. Had to make her understand what she had done.

  The impossible.

  She had changed his entire world.

  “Do you remember when I told you that a black past meant a bleak future? But now I want to believe that isn’t true. Maryanne deserves a future, as does every member of my family who has gone through hell at the hands of Blackbriar. Why should their lives be forever ruined by the actions of a madman? They deserved a life untainted by that worthless scum.”

  He had always believed he should pay penance for the rest of his life. Now he saw how insane that was. Helena had made him see how insane it was. Why should he pay for the mad actions of his parents?

  “I am going to fight to make sure they do,” he said. “I don’t know how it can be done, but I have to believe it can be.”

  “This is how,” she whispered. “By the strength of love. The thing is, I understand. I have been haunted by my past. My sister died when I was younger. She was seduced, she became pregnant, and the man abandoned her. All along, I’ve wanted to make men who were scoundrels pay. That is why I wrote the articles as Lady X. My family found a man willing to marry her—an older widower with six children. I told her to refuse, for I knew she wouldn’t love him. Then she died in childbirth, alone. If she’d married, her husband would have had a physician attend her, and she and the baby might have lived.”

  There. She’d revealed her deepest mistake. She had known Knightly was to blame, but for years she had felt guilt. If she had encouraged Margaret to be practical, her sister might have lived.

  “None of that is your fault,” he said softly. “You wanted her to have love and happiness. Now I understand what you gave up when you became my mistress. You felt that love was the most important thing in the world, didn’t you?”

  “I was very foolish.”

  “Not foolish. Helena, you are right. You are right, and I was wrong.” He should get down on one knee. Was lying in a bed, looking up at her good enough? “Helena, there is something I have to ask you—”

  “Oh heavens,” came a cry from right outside the door to his room. “The baby is coming!”

  Two thoughts hit Grey at once. His sisters had been listening at the door.

  And Jacinta was about to have her baby.

  He had no chance to ask his question of great import of Helena, because she rushed out of his room at once to help his sister.

  Babies were not born beautiful.

  His tiny niece possessed a cone-shaped head that looked squashed flat on one side. Grey had to fight the instinct to fix it, to remold it into a round, baby-like shape. Inside a circlet of lace-trimmed blanket, a red face peeked at him. The nose was upturned, the cheeks heavy, and tiny, dark eyes stared at him before the little face screwed up and a wail filled his bedroom.

  “How does someone so small make so much sound?” He shared a look with Helena. She held the baby—he didn’t trust himself to gather his new niece in his arms with a wounded shoulder.

  “I have no idea.” She giggled. “Does the sound bother you?”

  “No, but it makes me wish I could move heaven and earth to make her happy and make her stop.”

  Helena smiled, which made her eyes glow brilliantly.

  “She’s perfect,” he murmured. To him, she looked like a miracle. Jacinta had begun her labor with the breaking of her waters, and in mere minutes after her pains started, the child had come. His sister’s strength had amazed him. And Winterhaven had tried to appear calm but had brought brandy to Grey’s room, and had admitted how nervous he was and how much he admired Jacinta. “Marriage,” Winterhaven had said, “is the making of any man.”

  “Not you too,” Grey had groaned.

  “Lady Winterhaven asked me to bring her to you,” Helena said. “Of course, Lord Winterhaven was nervous about letting me carry his daughter.”

  “I think he would be nervous about carrying her himself.” He sighed. “All their children are fortunate to have such loving parents.”

  He heard Helena fight back a soft sob.

&nbs
p; “No tears,” he said gently. “Take my sweet niece back to Winterhaven. There is something I want to ask you. I need to be prepared to take action, and the little one—as adorable as she is—will be in the way.”

  Mystified, Helena returned the baby to the countess’s bedroom. Lady Winterhaven put her baby to the breast and nodded with satisfaction. “I hope it works. A helpless, precious newborn is the most dangerous weapon I have in my arsenal.”

  “A weapon?” Then she knew. Lady Winterhaven hoped seeing the baby might spark Grey to want to start a nursery of his own.

  The thought made her heart ache. But he must marry. More than that, he should marry. She must accept that she should step aside and allow him to take a bride and fill his nursery. He would be a superb father.

  Of course, the thought of him gazing lovingly down at another woman while he cradled their child was heartbreaking.

  In the corridor, a flurry of activity began. Servants hastened down, carrying pots of hot water toward Grey’s rooms. Curious, Helena followed.

  Rain streamed down again, just as it had on the day they had confronted Blackbriar. Helena would never forget that day, for she’d been so terrified she would lose Grey forever. But he’d survived, Maryanne and the children were on the mend after their frightening experience, and Lady Winterhaven had given birth to a healthy baby girl with admirable lungs.

  There had been terrifying moments, but also blessed ones. She had almost held her breath the entire time Grey was recovering from the pistol shot. She wanted to see him again to savor having him safe and sound.

  A door near his bedchamber was open. A claw-foot tub stood in the middle of the room, surrounded by folded towels. Grey stood in the room, a towel wrapped around his hips while his valet redressed his wound.

  “You are having a bath.”

  “Don’t leave,” he said quickly. With a wink to her, he dismissed his valet. The slender man looked a bit shocked but bowed and withdrew, leaving them alone in the room—at least until more servants arrived with more water to fill the tub.

  “We both are in need of one,” Grey said. “You need a good soaking in a hot bath after staying awake for days with me.” He flashed a grin. “We would both get done quicker if we share one.”

  “We shouldn’t be so scandalous in your sister’s house,” she said awkwardly.

  “Perhaps. But I can’t wait another minute.”

  Helena had planned to step aside, but she couldn’t resist this. Just to have a little more time with him. And in a warm bath? It was the definition of heavenly. “All right.”

  Grey took her hand and propelled to the dressing room, which contained the tub, then he opened a door that connected to a balcony. A balcony that adjoined this room and his bedroom.

  Grey’s breath, warm and gentle, brushed over her ear from behind. As she always did, she quivered. She was going to lose him to marriage. Her head accepted it, her heart refused to, and her body . . . her body simply ignored the truth. She just wanted him.

  “It’s so hot and sultry out,” she whispered.

  “Do you know what I want to do to you?” he murmured. “I can’t do it in here. Not while a parade of servants is in my dressing room, preparing the bath.”

  “Where can you do it?”

  He put his finger to his lips. Then he put his hands on his shoulders and urged her to step outside onto the balcony. It was the way she imagined a Turkish bath would be, even hotter in the summer rain than it had been before.

  Grey closed the door, a thick towel draped over his arm, which made her curious. Holding hands, they went to the end of the balcony, outside his bedroom, where the drapes were closed. In only minutes, she was wet.

  “I want to do this,” he said.

  With care, he got down to his knees, laid the towel in a thick square, then lay on his back with his head, shoulders, and the wounded area of his chest supported by the towel.

  She watched as he undid the towel around his hips. His cock bounded up, looking strong, straight, and eager.

  “Are you certain?” Helena asked. “I fear you are going to hurt yourself.”

  “I’m fine,” Grey said. “This time, love, I want you on top.”

  Lying on the wood deck, he drank in the sight of her. Helena’s soaked dress clung to her rounded hips and her tiny waist and cupped her full bosom like eager hands. In her wet clothes, with her hair in soaked waves around her, she looked like a sea nymph—

  Hell, too flowery. She looked like a wanton with her gold, wet hair falling around her, her dress plastered to her round breasts and shapely legs. The proper governess wasn’t gone; she had just made good friends with the wanton governess.

  Helena hiked her skirts up to expose damp legs and soaked stockings tied just above her knees. She straddled him, resting her rump on his groin, squashing his aching erection.

  He loved it.

  Sliding his hand under her derriere, Grey fumbled with his cock, holding it upright.

  Wet hair suddenly slapped his cheeks as Helena leaned forward. Her mouth captured his. Erotic pleasure almost scalded him. Having her on top, refreshing drops rolling off her hair to his face, her mouth playing with his . . . it was heaven.

  Making love with the warm rain teeming on them.... Funny, he’d never guessed there was anything more heavenly than heaven.

  With Helena on top, he was essentially a prisoner. He didn’t care. He put his hands at her waist, held her steady, kissed her deeply.

  A lifetime of this....

  A future of this to burn away the ice-cold fears and guilt and damnable memories of the past. He moved his hand and pressed one finger between her legs through her clinging drawers.

  She jerked away from his lips. “I want you, but you deserve more. You deserve to be married.”

  “I intend to be married,” he growled.

  She jolted back. “I—I am so glad. But if you are going to find a bride, I can’t be—I mustn’t be your mistress.”

  “You are going to be my bride.”

  “What?”

  “I intended to ask you formally after making love to you.” He clasped her wrists, drew her down so his lips were an inch from hers. This made much more sense for a proposal of marriage. For when she said yes, he could kiss her.

  “Helena, will you marry me?”

  “I—oh! No.”

  She wrenched free of his arms. Clawing at her skirts, she freed her legs from the folds. Befuddled with lust, he still couldn’t understand what she’d said. He thought it was “no.”

  She half rolled, half stumbled off him.

  Wait, it was no.

  Grey moved fast, wincing in pain, and caught her green skirt before it was out of his reach. “Why? Is it because I was such an idiot before? Or is it because I’m so ruined by my past? You know most of it, but I’m willing to reveal anything to you. I trust you, Helena.”

  He took a deep breath. He never spoke of his past; he’d tried to stow it away in the dark recesses of his mind, like jamming forgotten items in a cupboard. But that hadn’t worked. “My mother was the one to punish me. You know that. She hired servants to grab me out of my bed and drag me to the cellar. There, I would be tied up and beaten. And throughout the whole thing, she would touch me. Kiss my head, stroke my cheek, give me all this damned affection. At first, when she did it, I thought it meant my punishment was to end. Eventually I realized the touching was a game to her, some sick way of showing her superiority. My father was never faithful to her, always telling her she was not beautiful or she was too old. She wanted power. I guess that is why I never wanted to be touched. But you changed me, Helena. You made me see how beautiful it is to touch, to love, to share. You showed me the rewards that come from trust and love. I said you could never change me, and I was wrong. I honestly am a changed man.”

  She stared down at him, eyes wide. “I didn’t say no because of you. Grey, you must see—you are a duke and I am a ruined former governess. How can we marry?”

  “We get
a license and go to a church and say vows before a minister. That’s how.”

  “I am not—”

  “You are more worthy of being a duchess than any woman I know. I love you. Now that you’ve made me see sense and convinced me to fall in love, you can’t expect me to lose without a fight. No one knows I ruined you. You’ve been masked when out with me in public. Your servants know but know better than to speak of it. They know they would face my wrath if they did. So I’m not letting you go, Helena. I want to spend my future with you. God, say yes. Finally I have a future to look forward to—but it would be empty without you.”

  “You love me?”

  “I’ve loved you from the first moment I pulled you away from the carriage and you glared at me with disapproval. You are the only woman who expected me to be a better man than I was. Not because you thought I was capable of it, but because you thought I already was that man. You taught me that love has to be enough.” He gave her a playfully pouting look. “Don’t prove me right, Helena. God, don’t prove me right.”

  She put her hand to her mouth. Her lashes dipped. Droplets sparkled in them. From the rain or from tears?

  “Yes,” she whispered. “I love you so much. I will not prove you right, Grey. Love is more than enough, and I can’t give it up either.”

  She giggled, and his heart took flight at the happy sound. “You know,” she said. “I did have a fantasy—a secret, naughty desire—when I was a governess. And it was you, Grey. My wildest, most wicked desire has always been to be with you.”

  He felt his chest swell with pride, his heart with happiness. His cock . . . well, it was already swollen to bursting, eager and ready.

  She came back to him, climbed on him. This time she took hold of his cock, positioned it upright, and sank down on him.

  God, it was heaven.

  “What has always been your wildest and most wicked fantasy?” she asked.

  “I don’t know about wickedest. But the dream I thought would never come true, the dream I clung to when I was young, was that I would find someone who loved me,” he admitted. “Someone who was good, kind, sweet, and perfect. You’ve always been my dream, Helena. A dream I was too afraid to even let myself have.”