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He truly was a gentleman.
“No apology necessary. It was rather fun pretending, as if I were in a play on a stage.”
He laughed with that sparkle in his blue eyes as he flung his cape around himself. “It was fun, wasn’t it, having those people think we were other than we were?”
“Thank you for everything, Nathan. You made me feel pretty, today.”
“You are pretty.”
She smiled. “That was just the clothes.”
“Beauty comes from within.” He winked. “Sleep well, Clarissa. I’ve left a protective shield on the door so no one can enter. Be at ease here; you will be safe.” He closed the door gently.
Feeling a warm glow from the wine, Clarissa ambled about the room, inspecting all the fine things. She ran her fingers over the inlaid silver on the small tables beside the bed. She touched the cut glass on the lamps. She ran her hand over the finely woven bed covers when she turned them down.
Standing in front of the dressing table, she looked at herself in the mirror as she unlaced the bodice of her dress. She almost hated to take off the dress and be just herself again, although she wouldn’t be unhappy about being free of the bone stays that confined her.
With the laces loose, she was at last able to take a full breath. She slipped the top of the dress off her shoulders. The things still pressing from underneath held the dress up over her bosom. She sat on the edge of the bed as she tried to reach the buttons up the back. Some of them were too high. Sagging in frustration, she settled on removing her new shoes made of supple, napped leather. She rolled off her stockings and wiggled her toes, glad to have them free.
Clarissa thought about home. She remembered her cozy bed, little as it was. She missed home, not because she was so happy there, but simply because it was home, and all she knew. As fancy as this place was, it felt cold to her. Cold and frightening. She was someplace she didn’t know, and she could never go home again.
Suddenly Clarissa was very lonely. With Nathan, she felt the comfort of his confidence. He always knew where he was going, what to do, and what to say. He never seemed to have any doubts. Clarissa was full of them, now that she was alone in the bedroom.
It was odd, but she missed Nathan more than home, and he was right in the next room. Nathan was almost her home, now.
The carpet felt good under her bare feet as she went to the door. Gently, she rapped against the white panel in the center of the gold molding. She waited a moment, and then knocked again.
“Nathan?” she called softly.
She knocked and called his name once more. When still no answer came, she cracked the door open and peeked in. Only a single candle cut the still gloom.
Nathan was in one of his trances again. He was sitting in a chair, staring blankly at nothing. Clarissa stood at the door for a time, watching his steady breathing.
She had been frightened the first time she found him stiff and unblinking, but he had assured her that it was something he had done nearly his whole life. He hadn’t gotten angry, that first time, when she shook him, thinking there was something wrong.
Nathan never got angry with her. He always treated her with respect and kindness—two things she had always longed for, but had never gotten from her own people, and here was a stranger who gave them without effort.
Clarissa called his name again. Nathan blinked and looked up at her.
“Is everything all right?” he asked.
“Yes. I hope I’m not disturbing you in your reflection?”
Nathan waved away her concern. “No, no.”
“Well, I was wondering, could you help me… undo my dress? I can’t reach the buttons in the back and I seem to be stuck in it. I didn’t want to lie down in it and ruin it.”
Nathan followed her back into the bedroom. She had blown out the lamp on the dressing table so that she wouldn’t be embarrassed. Only the one beside the bed allowed him to see what he was doing.
With both hands, Clarissa held her hair up out of the way as his strong fingers worked their way down the buttons. It felt good to have him near.
“Nathan?” she whispered when he had reached the last of them at her waist.
He made a questioning sound in response. She feared he would ask what the thumping sound was, and she would have to tell him that it was her heart.
Clarissa turned, having to hold the dress over her breasts, now that it was undone.
“Nathan,” she said, as she gathered her courage and looked up into his beautiful eyes, “Nathan, I’m lonely.”
His brow drew together as he gently laid one of his big hands on her bare shoulder. “No need, my dear. I’m right in the next room.”
“I know. But I mean that I’m lonely in a bigger way than that. I mean, I’m lonely for the way you… I don’t know how to say it. When I’m alone, I start thinking about what I will have to do to help those people you talked about, and all kinds of fearful things come into my head, and before I know it, I’m sweating in a terror.”
“It’s often more worrisome to ponder something than it is to actually do it. Just don’t think about it. Try to enjoy the big bed, and the fine room, if you can. Who knows, one day we may have to sleep in a ditch.”
She nodded. She had to look away from his eyes, lest she lose her courage.
“Nathan, I know I’m a plain woman, but you make me feel special. No man ever made me feel pretty, feel… desirable.”
“Well, as I said before—”
She reached up and put her fingers to his lips to silence him. “Nathan, I really…” She looked up into his wonderful eyes. She swallowed and changed what
she was going to say. “Nathan, I’m afraid you are just too dashing a man for me to resist. Will you come spend the night in this big bed with me?”
He smiled with one side of his mouth as she took her fingers away. “Dashing?”
She nodded. “Very.” She could feel the curls springing.
He rested his arms around her waist. It made her heart beat even faster.
“Clarissa, you owe me nothing. I saved you from what was happening in Renwold, but you in return have promised to help me. You owe me nothing beyond that.”
“I know. It’s not—”
She wasn’t making herself clear, she knew.
She stretched up on her tiptoes, her arms circling his neck, and pressed her lips to his. His arms drew her tight. She abandoned herself in those arms, and to those lips.
He pulled back. “Clarissa, I’m old. You’re a young woman. You don’t want someone who’s as old as I.”
How long had she hurt because she thought she was too old to have someone? How often had she felt forlorn because she was too old? And now this man, this wonderful, vibrant, handsome man, was telling her she was too young.
“Nathan, what I want is to be thrown on the bed, to have this fancy, expensive dress pulled off me, and for you to have your way with me until I hear the spirits sing.”
In the silence, Nathan stared at her. At last he reached down, put an arm behind her legs, and swept her off her feet. He carried her to the bed, but instead of throwing her onto it, as she had suggested, he set her down gently.
His weight sank into the bed as he reclined beside her. His fingers stroked her forehead. They looked into each other’s eyes. Tenderly, he kissed her.
Since her dress was all untied and unbuttoned, it easily slipped down to her waist. She ran her fingers through his long silver hair as she watched him lovingly kiss her breasts. His lips were warm against her. For some reason, she found that surprising, and marvelous. A soft moan escaped her throat at the feeling of her nipples being kissed in such a manly, passionate fashion.
Nathan may have lived longer than she, but he was not an old man in her eyes. He was dashing, daring, and thoughtful, and he made her feel beautiful. She found herself panting at the sight of him without his clothes.
