Page 88 of Making of a Scandal
“He’s been my friend a long time. I wasn’t surprised when the others came to me claiming to be in love and wanting to be turned loose. But, Nick … he was the last one I ever thought to lose. I always thought it would be he and I left in the end. But, people never stop taking me by surprise. You must be something special, to have snared him so completely.”
The gruffness in his tone did little to mask his clear disappointment, though Calliope could not fully understand it. Instead of being happy that his friend had found love, he almost seemed to mourn his loss, as if marriage and a new life would end their friendship for good.
“Benedict—”
“He’s a complicated man, but a good one. He doesn’t think much of himself, but I know you can encourage him. Don’t let him near the gaming hells, and send for me if he ever takes up wagering again. His father will not accept you—you should know that. But his mother loves him, and she will only be glad he is happy. His sister is a gem, so you can expect to find an ally in her. But, his siblings all have their own lives, and the earl makes it difficult for him to be close to his mother.Youare his family now. Take care of him.”
She edged back toward the bed to rest a hand on Nick’s shoulder. He slept, oblivious to what went on around him.
“I will,” she vowed, hoping he heard in her words the earnestness of her heart. “I promise.”
Benedict nodded as if satisfied, then took his leave, closing the door behind him with a quiet click. Calliope sank down onto the mattress beside Nick, careful not to jostle him.
Running her fingers through his hair, she smiled, finding him utterly adorable in sleep.
“And I promise you, my darling … nothing will ever come between us again.”
Dominick awakenedto find Calliope curled against his uninjured side. Despite the dull throb of his wound, he felt better than he had in months, happy and secure in the knowledge that she was his. The duel with Lewes had been a nasty bit of business, but a necessary one. He expected Calliope to dress him down for deloping, but it had been the right thing to do. Lewes was guilty of nothing more than being a fortune hunter who had chosen the wrong heiress. Nick could have easily killed or wounded him, but had understood the necessity of shouldering the blame—after all, hehadstolen the man’s bride right out from under him. Lewes had been owed recompense and Nick had delivered. His body would heal, but his heart would never have recovered from the loss of Calliope.
He glanced down at her, finding her head resting on his chest, hair streaming behind her in a dark braid across the pillow. She slept peacefully, the sleeve of a white night rail peeking at him from where the coverlet rested over her shoulder. The room he lay in was unfamiliar, so he supposed he must still be in Hastings House, where he remembered being carried after the surgeon had stitched him up and sent him on his way. He wrapped one arm around her and gave her a little squeeze, wincing at the pain even so small a movement sent through his torso.
“Anni,” he murmured, kissing her brow. “Wake up.”
It took a bit of gentle prodding, but eventually she opened her eyes, staring at him with an unfocused gaze. He grinned, charmed by the sight of her and grateful to know that in short order he would awaken to this face every morning for the rest of his life.
“Does your father know you are sharing my bed, you scandalous creature?”
She yawned, easing herself onto her elbow. “No, actually. I slipped in here after everyone had gone to bed. They all think me tucked away in my own chamber. You’ve been asleep for an entire day. I’ve been worried sick.”
She looked to the window, the gray light of approaching dawn showing through sheer, gossamer curtains.
“I’ll have to leave soon, or risk being discovered.”
He snorted. “After the spectacle we’ve caused, I doubt there is anything else we can do to shock them.”
She giggled and sat upright, the motion making her nightgown drape off one shoulder. Nick swallowed, his attention snared by the revelation of that bronze curve of perfect skin.
“Don’t go yet,” he murmured, reaching out to caress the bared shoulder. “I’m in pain and I need you to comfort me.”
She frowned, leaning over him to pull the coverlet back and reveal his naked torso. His bandages were still pristine, wound in layers around his waist.
“Oh, Nick … Are you in very much pain?”
His cock stirred in his breeches, and he groaned. “Yes. Agony. It’s terrible.”
She laid a gentle hand on his chest and leaned down as if she could see through his bandages to the injury beneath. “My poor love.”
“Yes, I am wounded and inconsolable. Perhaps a kiss will make it better.”
Her head swiveled toward him and she narrowed her eyes, though her lips twitched with amusement. “A kiss, hm?”
He nodded, doing his best to look innocent. “Please.”
She moved up his body, her lips grazing one nipple and the swell of his chest. He gritted his teeth and pressed his palm against the cockstand fighting for freedom. It had been too long, and their hurried encounter in the storage closet of the foundling home hadn’t nearly whetted his appetite for her.
Calliope let her mouth graze his lips, but didn’t press into him. She continued her path upward, kissing his brow instead.
“Better?”
