Page 47 of The Butterfly
It came in the most unexpected way. She shifted a bit in the tub, her gaze raising to meet his. Then, slowly, she lifted one hand and reached out to him. He went stone still, barely daring to breathe as he waited to find out what she would do.
Her fingers brushed against the tips of his, then stroked up over his bruised knuckles. She did not speak, but her eyes were assessing, questioning as she studied first his face, then the redness and swelling on his fingers.
“Did ye think I’d let him get away?” he asked, raising his wounded hand to her face. “I swore if I ever got the chance, I’d spill his blood. I only regret letting Adam stop me.”
Closing her eyes, she nestled her cheek against his palm. “I saw him, and I … I had forgotten him for a moment. For the first time since … I had forgotten that he was real, that he still inhabited this world.”
Relief stole the tension from his body, and he breathed a bit easier to hear her speak to him in full, coherent sentences. He’d lost her for a short time, but she hadn’t been too far gone to save.
“It’s all right,mo gradh. Ye had no way of knowin’ he’d show up here. But he’s gone now. Adam … he’s goin’ to make sure he can never hurt ye again.”
She opened her eyes, tears welling in the depths as she stared at him, her lower lip trembling. “Please, Niall … don’t let him do something reckless. And … and please do not tell him about this.”
He fought the urge to wince as he remembered Adam’s boldly declared words.
I am going to kill the bastard.
“Livvie, yer brother cannae be stopped if he’s got it in his head to do somethin’. Ye know that as well as I do. And Bertram … he deserves whatever happens next for the things he’s done.”
She did not need to know about the blackmail, or Adam’s plans. Just now, he only wanted to think of getting her back to that joyous place she’d been in just that afternoon. At the moment, it felt so far off. But, if she could talk to him and look at him with so much love in her eyes, then he knew she could find that place again. He knew she could do anything.
“I just want it to be over,” she whispered, falling back against the edge of the tub with a little sob. “I want the sadness and fear and fighting to end.”
So did he. It was a difficult thing to admit to himself, after having dedicated the past five years to helping Adam seek revenge against the family who had hurt her. He wanted an end to it, but also realized they might never have that end as long as Bertram was a threat.
“Promise me, Niall,” she urged, reaching out to grab his hand once more. “Promise me you’ll try to put a stop to this.”
He found himself nodding, even as he wondered how he might go about it. If Adam was determined to kill Bertram, then Niall did not know what he was to do about it. But, for his Livvie, he would have done anything. Had she asked him to move a mountain, he would have strained until he died to budge the thing an inch.
“I promise,mo gradh. I’ll do whatever I must.”
Seeming content with that, she fell silent as he resumed the task of bathing her. He took his time, lathering a sponge with sweet-smelling soap and using it to scrub her skin. She remained pliant under his hands, moving about to help him access various parts of her body. Then, she tipped her head back to wet her hair, humming happily as he washed the locks, taking the time to massage her scalp before rinsing.
“I didn’t want to die,” she whispered as he helped her from the tub. “I-I couldn’t make it stop. His face … I saw it in my mind, and I heard his voice … the things he said to me while he …”
Tossing aside the linen he’d used to dry her, he took her in his arms, pulling her nude body against him. She clung to his lapels as if she feared being carried away by a strong wind, shivering in his hold despite the warmth of the fire.
“It’s over, Livvie. He cannae hurt ye ever again.”
She nodded against his waistcoat, her face buried in the fabric. He smoothed both hands over her back, trying to still her shudders and calm her fears.
“The world would be a far dimmer place without ye in it,mo gradh. I know it’s hard for ye to fight it at times, but I need ye to try for me. Can ye do that? Can ye promise me ye willnae ever hurt yerself like that again? If ye promise, then Adam’ll never know about yer relapse. As far as anyone else knows, it never happened.”
Her eyes appeared from the shelter of his waistcoat, then the rest of her face as she stared up at him.
“I promise. I’m so sorry, Niall. I can never understand why you continue to love me when all I’m ever capable of doing is hurting and worrying you.”
“Don’t ye apologize,” he admonished. “Life laid ye low for a time, and yer fightin’ yer way back. If ye find yerself in a bit of a tough spot from time to time … well, no one can fault ye for that.”
Coming up on tiptoe, she wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her body flush against his. The baser parts of him reacted with the predictable rush of blood and heat, his every nerve ending coming alive. He became aware of her nudity again, juxtaposed against his clothing.
“Livvie …”
“I’m so tired of being afraid,” she whispered. “I am weary of craving that vile poison, even when it is the only thing that can chase it all away.”
“I know,” he replied. What other response could he offer? How could he tell her he would take away her pain, when he still had no notion how, other than simply being constant and near?
“I know how hard this has all been for you … loving a broken woman. One who cannot give you all that you deserve.”
