Liam’s resolution to keep away from Rebecca’s bedside lasted the rest of that day. The following morning, after pacing his study for an hour, staring aimlessly at his work for another, and wandering the house for two, he finally relented, grabbed a selection of books from the library and made his way downstairs.
Chin high, he ignored the disapproving stares of his staff, as well as Mrs Murray’s rather pointed use of the cleaver on a joint of beef as he passed, and went straight for Rebecca’s quarters. He let himself into her office, but hesitated before the door to her bedroom.
Deciding he would only eventually return at some point later in the day, having wasted countless more hours pretending to work, he knocked on the door.
‘Come in,’ came her voice, fainter than usual, but a welcome sound. ‘Oh, my lord.’
Liam felt his heart soar for the tiniest moment when he saw her there, propped up against the headboard, a smile on her face, and a healthy glow in her cheeks. Though he could tell she was weakened, she seemed well on the path to recovery.
‘Good morning, Miss Merrickson,’ he said once he’d closed the door again. ‘Welcome back to the land of the living.’
‘I... Th-thank you, my lord,’ she stammered, and Liam might have sworn she blushed slightly. Perhaps to hide just that, she set about rearranging her dressing gown and blankets. ‘To what do I owe such a visit?’
‘I thought you might be in need of some divertissement,’ he said after a moment, with the faint impression of a smile. The realisation that she remembered nothing of what he’d done was both a relief and also, deep down, something of a disappointment. ‘I brought a selection of books for you.’
‘Thank you, that is very kind. However, I fear as much as I wish to, my mind is still not at its best. I’m not sure I will make any sense of whatever you’ve brought me.’
‘I have for you today some Austen, as well as The Antiquary—and, more for your amusement than anything else, Nightmare Abbey,’ Liam said, staring at the books’ spines. He caught a smile and the beginnings of a laugh out of the corner of his eye and grinned. ‘Perhaps later. I shall leave them here for you.’
Liam was acutely aware of her eyes following him as he went to place the books on her bedside table, though he tried his best not to think about them.
Or her.
Or how he wanted nothing more than to stay in this room.
‘Thank you, my lord,’ she said softly.
It was then that Liam made the mistake of looking at her again. Sure enough, she was staring up at him, those dark brown eyes of hers soft and inviting. Despite the toll the illness had taken, she glowed, as though she had been reborn from the trial and returned to him, renewed.
Returned to me. What a preposterous notion.
‘Well, I should leave you, then, Miss Merrickson,’ he said abruptly, turning back towards the door.
Halfway there, he stopped again and sighed. Why was he making this such an ordeal? Were they not friends? Could he not offer her comfort and company as she had?
‘Unless, that is, well, if you cannot read... That is, shall I read to you for a while?’
Turning back, Liam found Rebecca wearing an unreadable expression, halfway between consternation and curiosity.
She cocked her head, studying him for a long moment, before a smile broke. ‘You are not busy, then? Or perhaps you are using me as an excuse to get away?’
‘And if I am?’
‘I do enjoy Walter Scott...’
‘The Antiquary it is, then,’ Liam said, unable to stop grinning as he sat himself in the chair beside her again, and opened her selected book.
They sat there all day together.
Trays of food were brought in and out, Rebecca drifted off to sleep now and then, and Liam occasionally took to reading whilst walking about.
But nothing truly interrupted them as they lost themselves to the words, letting themselves drift together into another world, for a little while, at least.
Night fell, the candles burned to nearly nothing, and Rebecca fell fast asleep to the sound of Liam’s voice.
He watched her for a moment, watched the rise and fall of her breast, the peace in her face, and the way the shadows danced around her with the flicker of the dying candlelight. He felt the pull he had that first time—a pull which seemed even stronger now.
He told himself he should not return again. And yet, even as he blew out the candles and made his way from her rooms, he knew that tomorrow he would return. And the day after. Until she was fully herself again. For he could not resist the temptation, the lure of her company.
For a short while he could bend the rules. So he would, and damn the consequences.
Liam did return the following day, and the day after. He continued to read to Rebecca, as though they’d agreed that this was how she would pass the time recovering, with him.
The others might have had something to say, if Liam hadn’t given them a look to warn that he would broach no comment on the matter.
It was all kinds of improper. Everything about their living situation, about Thornhallow in general, was improper and should be frowned upon. But Liam was well past caring. Any reason he might still have had, disappeared with Rebecca’s illness.
But the respite would not—could not—last forever; that much was clear.
They both knew, as he finished Northanger Abbey, that their time was at its end.
‘May I ask,’ Liam said, his lip curling faintly upwards as he leaned back in the chair, the final volume safely stowed in his pocket. ‘Well, that is, you see, when I was... When you were...’ Liam’s eyes roamed across her body as he searched for the words to describe what he referred to in a gentlemanly manner. ‘I may have glimpsed some of your...’
‘Tattoos, my lord,’ Rebecca said firmly. ‘I have no shame in calling them thus.’
There was no judgement in his eyes, she noted then. Only curiosity and, most frightening of all, warm complicity.
She could not resist, and somewhere deep down, she wanted him to know. As much as she longed to know him, she also wanted him to know and understand her. Fully. To understand everything she was, for then she could be very certain indeed that he would never be tempted by the familiarity which had grown between them again.
For men like him, innocence was everything when payment was not involved.
‘Yes, quite. And why, I wonder, Miss Merrickson, do you have them?’
‘When they are sinful, and naught but for sailors and scum? It’s all right,’ she reassured him when he winced. ‘They are memories, things I did not wish to forget. Some ladies have diaries; I am quite incapable of keeping one, so...’
‘So you have those instead? Quite an alternative... Did they hurt?’ he asked suddenly.
‘A little. One gets used to it, I suppose.’
‘Interesting... And...’
‘You may ask,’ she said softly when he stopped himself. ‘I will not be offended.’
‘Well, were you never concerned that...well, that is, that a man, a suitor, perhaps...’
Rebecca chuckled again, enjoying his discomfort.
Liam’s cheeks reddened. ‘I know you’ve said that, well, that you hadn’t considered it, but... Oh, forgive me, I really do go too far.’
‘You know so many of my secrets already, what is one more?’
Liam bowed his head slightly.
‘Even before I was forced to run, I never imagined...marriage, settling down with a good and proper husband, as part of my future.’
She couldn’t quite remember what she had imagined, only that there was adventure.
Shaking her head, Rebecca continued. ‘But when I left home, my future was cemented. And I had made no vow of celibacy.’
Rebecca watched his expression darken as he grasped her meaning.
There it is...the realisation...
‘The truth is, the first time I took a man to bed...I did it so that if my prince ever found me, I would not be... You understand. I wanted to reclaim my own body. So it was with the tattoos, I suppose. And, as it happens, I enjoyed myself. Over the years I found solace, and pleasure, in the arms of men—discreetly. None were offended by my tattoos, nor my lack of virtue. But then, I asked for nothing more than an evening or two. I only... I wanted to feel less alone,’ she admitted quietly, before she could prevent her tongue running away with her.
She felt as though if anyone could ever understand, it might be him.
‘I could make no friends, never get close to anyone, be part of a family again, save in that way. For one small moment in time, I had a measure of closeness.’
‘And your heart was safe,’ Liam said flatly.
She looked up, ready to see admonishment in his eyes, but instead she found understanding yet again.
He sighed, flashing the briefest and most wan smile she’d ever seen, and nodded. ‘You know even before it begins how it will end. You owe nothing, you are owed nothing. You can pass through life as though not even a part of it.’
‘Yes.’
It should have hurt her, those words, that vicious and cold truth laid bare, a truth she’d known somewhere in the depths of her heart but always refused to recognise. Only, it didn’t. It made her feel...
Less alone. But then, here, with him, with the others, you never feel alone anymore.
‘Why do you call him your prince? The man...’
‘I don’t know.’ Rebecca frowned. ‘I suppose... It takes some of the fear away. Takes his power away. For if he is only a prince in a fairy story...’
‘What harm could he do you?’
Rebecca nodded.
‘You truly are a spectacularly unconventional woman, Miss Merrickson,’ Liam said.
‘And it is getting spectacularly late, my lord,’ she replied huskily after a moment.
His eyes seemed only to hold admiration as they remained affixed to her own.
And light, a magnetic light...
Which threatened to thoroughly undo her should he gaze at her like that any longer.
‘I have talked quite enough of myself, and I think perhaps you wish to retire.’
‘Indeed. You are not yet fully recovered,’ he conceded, rising, a sad smile lingering at the corners of his lips. ‘I have interrogated you enough for one evening. I shall let you rest.’
‘I think perhaps, my lord, you should not trouble yourself so much. I am feeling much better, and I think it shall not be long before I’m back on my feet again.’
‘Indeed.’ Liam nodded, as acutely aware as she was of the danger more time together might bring. ‘Goodnight, Miss Merrickson.’
‘Goodnight, my lord.’
Liam bowed and left, though his scent—indeed his very presence—lingered in her room, just as the man lingered in her mind, despite all her attempts to rid herself of him.
For, try as she might, she could not. She had hoped at least to lessen his opinion of her, to force him to leave her be, in peace. That was why she’d told him all the sordid details of her life, wasn’t it? To discourage his attentions? Why should she even have to? There was nothing to his attentions. He was being attentive, caring, because she was his responsibility. A good master takes care of his servants. True, he had been more involved than most—than any, really—but then... He knew of such things because of his life in those wilds. And the house was isolated, so who else could tend to her?
Literally anyone...
No. The others had their duties, so he was simply being considerate to everyone by tending to her himself. By reading to her for hours, and soothing her fever with cool cloths, and... By looking at her with those eyes...
Instead of pushing him away, it felt as if he’d drawn closer. Not only had he not found her truths repellent, but he seemed to understand her.
No.
He had saved her life. And she was grateful. And he was undeniably an attractive man. So, these tender feelings were normal. They had been forced together too closely, and she owed him her life.
It would all be right again when everything returned to normal.