Read Online Lisbon: Richard and Rose, Book 8 by Lynne Connolly - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Lynne Connolly
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showing him what I required of him. “I wanted you to touch me.”
“I touch you every day.”
“But not like you used to.”
He closed his eyes for a moment. “No.” He opened them again. “I can’t. I daren’t.” I saw something I’d never seen in them before my illness. Fear. And I hated it.
“Daren’t?” I needed him to tell me. I needed to hear the words.
“I didn’t leave your side when you were ill.” He glanced away, then back at me. I finished unhooking my stays, not attempting flirtatiousness. This discussion was far too important for any games. We needed honesty. Although perhaps later, we might play. I still hoped, even though our discussion had turned grave. But I had to listen to him. It was what I had asked for, after all, and he had never told me before but left me to guess at the level of his pain.
“I watched you, prayed for you, wept over you. I promised that I’d never allow you to fall pregnant, that I’d never, ever put you in that position again. I can’t bear the thought of you…leaving me.” Even now he couldn’t say the word. He didn’t want me to die. Neither did I, come to that.
“You can’t keep me wrapped up forever, Richard. There are any number of ways I could die. What if I were to slip and fall? What if I’d fallen overboard and drowned?”
“I know that.” He turned away and tunnelled his fingers over his scalp. His short hair stuck up in unruly spikes, so unlike the Lord Strang the world knew. Only I saw him this way. “If you had, I’d have to bear it. I’d have no choice.”
He faced me once more, anguish etching his eyes into blue flames. His expression seared into me, and I wanted to hold him, love him, make that look go away. But I did nothing, just listened to him. “But this I can do something about. This I can affect. If I can care for you without the temptation becoming too much, I can have most of you.”
“Is that what you reasoned while you sat with me when I was ill?”
“It’s what I thought of.” And more, I’d wager.
“Then you’re trying to preserve me rather than keep me. You don’t want what we have, you’re trying to make it into something else. I can be a wife to you, appear at balls and routs, go to the opera and court, and I can be a mother to your children. But I can’t be your lover? I can’t hold you at night? I can never see your body again?” I fought my emotions down. If I shouted, if I grew too upset, he’d leave me alone, I knew it. I couldn’t let him do that now, erect another impenetrable wall for me to break through. One day the wall would prove too well built and he’d be lost to me. And to his children.
His face contorted in grief. “We can do it, Rose. We can learn to live like this. Then, perhaps, some gentle intimacies. Other people do it, other couples.”
It wouldn’t work. “They aren’t us, Richard. We can’t live like that. You taught me to give myself to you with utter abandon, and now I’ve known that, I can’t take it back.”
He winced.
One person stood between us, and I would not, could not, allow her to win. “Your mother has brought you up to believe it’s possible. She has made you afraid of a woman giving birth. You were beside yourself when I had Helen, so now, with the boys, you would have been frantic. You were, I remember that. And then the illness made it worse. But your mother is small, a delicate woman. Bearing twins would be hard on such a female. I’m a country girl, Richard. I’m tall for a woman, comfortably built, or I was, and I had childbearing hips. I gave birth with relative ease, even to triplets. And I bore them all alive.” A point that still made me proud and I refused to deny it. “I didn’t fall ill until a day after they were born. I was perfectly well until then. Wasn’t I?”
“You were weak.”
I laughed, sharp and high. “It would have been a miracle were I not. I’ve heard of women who rise from childbirth a day later, but I had
“I touch you every day.”
“But not like you used to.”
He closed his eyes for a moment. “No.” He opened them again. “I can’t. I daren’t.” I saw something I’d never seen in them before my illness. Fear. And I hated it.
“Daren’t?” I needed him to tell me. I needed to hear the words.
“I didn’t leave your side when you were ill.” He glanced away, then back at me. I finished unhooking my stays, not attempting flirtatiousness. This discussion was far too important for any games. We needed honesty. Although perhaps later, we might play. I still hoped, even though our discussion had turned grave. But I had to listen to him. It was what I had asked for, after all, and he had never told me before but left me to guess at the level of his pain.
“I watched you, prayed for you, wept over you. I promised that I’d never allow you to fall pregnant, that I’d never, ever put you in that position again. I can’t bear the thought of you…leaving me.” Even now he couldn’t say the word. He didn’t want me to die. Neither did I, come to that.
“You can’t keep me wrapped up forever, Richard. There are any number of ways I could die. What if I were to slip and fall? What if I’d fallen overboard and drowned?”
“I know that.” He turned away and tunnelled his fingers over his scalp. His short hair stuck up in unruly spikes, so unlike the Lord Strang the world knew. Only I saw him this way. “If you had, I’d have to bear it. I’d have no choice.”
He faced me once more, anguish etching his eyes into blue flames. His expression seared into me, and I wanted to hold him, love him, make that look go away. But I did nothing, just listened to him. “But this I can do something about. This I can affect. If I can care for you without the temptation becoming too much, I can have most of you.”
“Is that what you reasoned while you sat with me when I was ill?”
“It’s what I thought of.” And more, I’d wager.
“Then you’re trying to preserve me rather than keep me. You don’t want what we have, you’re trying to make it into something else. I can be a wife to you, appear at balls and routs, go to the opera and court, and I can be a mother to your children. But I can’t be your lover? I can’t hold you at night? I can never see your body again?” I fought my emotions down. If I shouted, if I grew too upset, he’d leave me alone, I knew it. I couldn’t let him do that now, erect another impenetrable wall for me to break through. One day the wall would prove too well built and he’d be lost to me. And to his children.
His face contorted in grief. “We can do it, Rose. We can learn to live like this. Then, perhaps, some gentle intimacies. Other people do it, other couples.”
It wouldn’t work. “They aren’t us, Richard. We can’t live like that. You taught me to give myself to you with utter abandon, and now I’ve known that, I can’t take it back.”
He winced.
One person stood between us, and I would not, could not, allow her to win. “Your mother has brought you up to believe it’s possible. She has made you afraid of a woman giving birth. You were beside yourself when I had Helen, so now, with the boys, you would have been frantic. You were, I remember that. And then the illness made it worse. But your mother is small, a delicate woman. Bearing twins would be hard on such a female. I’m a country girl, Richard. I’m tall for a woman, comfortably built, or I was, and I had childbearing hips. I gave birth with relative ease, even to triplets. And I bore them all alive.” A point that still made me proud and I refused to deny it. “I didn’t fall ill until a day after they were born. I was perfectly well until then. Wasn’t I?”
“You were weak.”
I laughed, sharp and high. “It would have been a miracle were I not. I’ve heard of women who rise from childbirth a day later, but I had
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