Chapter 25
Well. It was disappointing that Jack was wedded to the idea of keeping his drawers on, but Nicola could not quarrel with the rest of his performance. He stood tall and proud, his shoulders broad. His back was smooth, flecked with a few dark freckles that formed a triangle in the center of it.
His waist was not too spindly and not too thick—just right as per Goldilocks. His bottom was more concealed than Nicola would have liked, but she’d had the opportunity to admire it when he was in his too-small workman’s trousers. The state of his thighs told her he took exercise beyond his daily walk when he was in his real life. His calves were rather nice too, what she could see of them covered by his stockings.
Altogether he was rather delicious and she wished he’d turn around again. She preferred his front, where there might be a tantalizing peek at his male endowments. Although Jack’s hands were big, what he was trying to cover up was uncooperative.
He glanced over his shoulder, looking as if he wished she wasn’t still there. She made that rotating motion again, and he reluctantly faced her. His chest—ah, his chest. A bit of curling hair and dark brown nipples. His lovely face, though he was a bit mulish standing before the fire.
All this nonsense about honor. What good was it when they would part in less than two weeks?
Honor be damned.
Honestly, she was losing her mind, but Nicola didn’t care. Who knew when another such opportunity might arise? She had a splendid male specimen in her bedroom for her perusal, and he’d come of his own free will. At least he’d come to the pantry—she’d lured him up the stairs.
Her heart was beating swiftly again. She took a deep breath to steady herself and slid off the bed.
Jack jumped at her approach and backed away. “Oh, no! I insist upon no touching. I’ll not be responsible—you must—you mustn’t—”
More nonsense. She put a hand on his warm skin, tiptoed up, and kissed him. For a few seconds he was unyielding, his lips glued shut. And then…oh, glory. Nicola would never get tired of the way he commanded their contact, sweeping in and mastering her mouth with his. She followed his lead, since it was obvious he had much more experience than she ever would.
It didn’t really bother her that Jack had had affairs before—it was the way of the world. A man’s world. Annoying, but it only proved practice made perfect. Nicola felt sorry for all the women that Jack was not kissing. How miserable they must be.
He was holding her now, which was a very good thing as her knees had forgotten how to hinge. Nicola felt liquid all over, as though she was melting. Her hand remained over Jack’s heart, and the reassuring rapid thump told her he was as far gone as she was.
She’d never suspected kissing could be like this. Even the hair on the top of her head felt alive, goose bumps skittering along her scalp. She could kiss Jack forever.
But she was here for more knowledge. She smoothed her way down his chest to the band of his drawers. Jack was so busy kissing he didn’t notice she was trespassing. Or perhaps he’d changed his mind, too overcome to remember his own rules.
To her vast frustration, the string was tightly knotted and her shaking fingers were incapable of dexterity. The accompanying buttons were completely beyond her as well. But his rigid shaft, even if concealed by linen, craved contact. Nicola placed her hand where Jack had once covered himself up, and his cock—a word she’d never used or even much thought of before—leaped.
Jack groaned into her mouth but didn’t withdraw or make any effort to stop her. Gingerly, she stroked over the fabric, wishing she could touch bare skin. There were gaps between the buttons; perhaps if she inserted a finger—
Suddenly she was shoved backwards. “By all that’s holy, you must stop now,” Jack said, his words ragged. “Do not make me ashamed, Nicola.”
Why should he feel shame for something that must be normal between lovers? And he was her lover, if Christmas night was any indication. If it had been all right for him to touch her and kiss her so scandalously, why was she being forbidden to do the same?
Nicola bit a lip, wishing she could ask her question. Instead, she watched as Jack bent to pick up his clothing, muttering to himself. She reached out, but he backed away, falling into a chair with a pile of clothes in his lap.
He did not look at her as he spoke. “Believe me, it’s not as if I don’t want to. Want you. I have hopes once I get myself more settled—well, if I ever get myself settled—you mean a great deal to me. I’ve never felt quite this way before about anyone. But I want to come to you whole, Nicola. I’m no good to you otherwise.”
Even more nonsense. Was there a limit to it? Nicola felt a rise of impatience. What if his bad dreams never disappeared and he never slept the entire night through? Did that mean he would deny himself companionship forever? It made no sense to her. She wasn’t perfect herself. Just because she couldn’t talk anymore, did she feel like damaged goods too, never to be rewarded with happiness?
Richard had thought so.
Damn Richard, and damn Jack. Nicola wanted to feel normal. Her life had been full of patient circumspection for years. She’d waited and waited for her long-postponed marriage to change her circumstances, and that would never happen now. Was she to simply embrace her spinster state, never knowing a man’s touch?
It wasn’t fair.
She was half tempted to pull her nightgown over her head and shock Jack into her kind of sense. Only his bleak expression stopped her. She might think his honor a silly construct, but it was obvious he did not.
She sat down on the bed with a sigh, an honest-to-goodness sound that had snuck out of her throat.
He’d done it again, prompted her to make noise. Not much of one, to be sure, but it was progress.
He gave her a lopsided smile. “You’re almost speaking.”
Nicola smiled back, though she didn’t much feel like it. Ring the church bells in celebration.
Jack began dressing, and any hope she had that he’d change his mind evaporated. He was obeying society’s strict laws after all. She should be grateful, she supposed, that he had enough caution for the both of them.
Dispensing with his tie and stuffing it in a pocket, he stood, his feet booted, ready to scurry back in the dark to Tulip Cottage.
Her notebook was somewhere on the bed. She flipped through the wrinkled covers until she found it, but no pencil. Jack reached into his pocket and handed her a stub.
“Always prepared, that’s me,” he said with forced cheerfulness.
Shall I come to you tomorrow?
“Deliver me from temptation. No, I’ll come for you on New Year’s Eve. I’ll be a proper escort. Wear something dark and cover your hair. Well, you would—you’re a lady, and all of you wear those outlandish hats, don’t you? Lots of dead birds and fruit.” He glanced at the little clock on her bedside. “It’s the 29th already. I think a few days’ break is merited after all the excitement, don’t you?”
Nicola did not.
What did you want to show me the other night? Not his cock, unfortunately.
“I’m not sure I remember how to do it anymore. I crammed for the British Manual Alphabet. I was going to use hand signals to tell you…to tell you I liked you.” She watched as Jack flashed fingers and palms, stopping and starting until she supposed he got it right. Her card was hidden in the Stonecrop Cottage Bible, and she had not crammed.
If Nicola was meant to be flattered, Jack had failed. Liked her? What a mealy-mouthed verb. One liked toast. Or a sunny day. Something quite unobjectionable.
Liked. Tasteless, like water instead of wine. She didn’t want to be loved back, did she? That wouldn’t work either. She and Jack were doomed from the start because of what had happened last March. She had been injured by what he perceived as his carelessness. No, there was no happy ending to be found.
Nicola didn’t want an ending, but a beginning, and possibly a middle if they could get that far. How she was to convince Jack of that was tricky. Even her peaches were losing their appeal.
You are supposed to come for tea Saturday.
Jack frowned. “I’d forgotten. We were supposed to speak only with our hands, yes?”
Nicola would have to stay up all the nights to come studying.
“I’m not sure I can get away after all. My disappearance upset the completion schedule on Primrose Cottage—all the workers were dismissed so they could beat the bushes for me. I’ll probably be tied up there spackling something Saturday. And even if they’re not standing over me with a whip, it’s better that we spend some time apart. To, um, think.”
She swallowed her disappointment. He was serious about a separation. Would he renege on his invitation for New Year’s?
Jack was getting cold feet, even if he was fully dressed now. Nicola didn’t want to think. She wanted to kiss, and more. She’d been deprived of touching his male beauty, but seeing had been nearly as good.
There was nothing wrong with her eyes. She’d put them to good use New Year’s Eve.
If the party was still on.