Catching Captain Nash (Dashing Widows #6)(38)

She sucked in a breath that tasted of defeat. “I’ll see you downstairs.”

“No.” More loudly this time. He reached out to catch the filmy material of her skirt. “Wait.”

She cast him a troubled glance, but didn’t retreat. When he realized she wasn’t going to move away, he dropped his hand.

She set the candle on another chest and dragged up a trunk to sit on, disturbing a cloud of dust. She didn’t touch him, but remained within touching distance if he decided he needed physical contact. “Are you ill?”

His lips twisted downward. “Only in my mind.”

She shook her head. “You’re not mad.”

He gave a snort of self-derision. “It might be easier if I was.”

“Don’t say that.” After what he’d been through, some men would have lost their senses. But whatever else ailed him, his wits remained as dauntingly sharp as they’d ever been.

A thorny silence descended between them.

“What can I do?” she asked eventually.

With a shaking hand, he grabbed her wrist, the way he’d grabbed it that first night. He wasn’t gentle, but she didn’t mind. She could see he teetered on the edge of disintegration.

“Just...just stay with me.”

“Of course.”

For a further interval, they sat unspeaking. Slowly his awful tension receded. At last, she took a chance on him being ready to talk.

“Why the attics?”

When he didn’t answer immediately, she wondered if she’d made a mistake. Then he started to speak slowly, as if unsure whether he’d muster the words. “I was asking Kerenza about her favorite toy. She wanted to know what had been mine.”

Ah. “The ship.”

In the shadows, she heard rather than saw him put the toy down on the bare wooden floorboards. “Yes.”

She could imagine how memories of his childhood had overwhelmed him when he’d found the ship. Memories of his childhood, and his forsaken dreams of a brilliant naval career. “I worried...I worried perhaps you had a problem with Kerenza.”

“No. She’s absolutely delightful.” He slid his hand down and linked his fingers with hers. “Just like her mother.”

He spoke more naturally, but she didn’t fool herself that he was anywhere near ready to come downstairs. At least he no longer clung to her like a drowning man snatched at flotsam to save himself from sinking.

“That’s odd.” Gently she squeezed his hand. “In my opinion, she’s just like you.”

“In looks, perhaps, although I think she’s most like Helena. But her brightness and her joy are yours, all yours.”

Absurdly she found herself blushing. “Thank you.”

“It’s...”

She finished his sentence when she realized he couldn’t. “It’s all been overwhelming.”

His fingers flexed against hers. “Yes,” he admitted in a muffled voice. “The change in my circumstances has left me staggering. It’s only weeks since I was locked up, awaiting execution.”

Horror rippled through her. He hadn’t mentioned that before. She was more certain than ever that he’d kept the worst of his ordeal to himself to protect people’s feelings. “It’s too soon for you to feel safe.”

His free hand made a sweeping gesture. “Coming home has been like entering a mythical kingdom. None of it feels real. None of it, except you. And now Kerenza.” He made an impatient sound deep in his throat. “It’s hard to explain.”

“Try.”

He paused, then went on in a low voice. “I’ve spent five years freezing cold or boiling hot. I’ve never been clean, or at ease, or dressed in anything but rags. I never had enough to eat, and I was always in pain from a beating.”

His hand clenched on hers to the point of discomfort, and she bit her lip to stifle a protest. Sour bile rose in her throat as she thought about his captivity. Yet she didn’t dare speak, in case he stopped. In the cold light of day, she’d never get him to confess so much.

“Then I come home to a loving family and every comfort. It feels insubstantial, like it could all be ripped away in a heartbeat. It feels…wrong.”

She licked dry lips. “Give yourself time.”

“I know. But I can’t feel I deserve all the blessings that...” His voice cracked and faded.

Unable to stop herself, although she didn’t know whether he wanted her comfort, Morwenna leaned forward to run her hand down his cheek. The tender caress said all the things words couldn’t. His beard prickled under her touch.

“Of course you do.” Her heart threatened to crack. She loved him so much. If only she could make him see himself the way she saw him. As someone strong and brave and resilient, despite all the damage the world had tried to do to him. “You deserve everything marvelous that heaven can grant. Don’t you know that?”

“No. No, I don’t think I do,” he said in a dull tone. He went on before she could gather an argument. “It’s like every nightmare has turned into a dream come true. I’m back with my loving family. I have a chance at a useful, happy life. I have a daughter who makes me so proud, I’m ready to burst.”

Warm moisture soaked the fingertips that lay against his face, and she was desperately glad that she’d shifted the candle away. These tears would help to heal him, but he hadn’t yet abandoned his pride, despite this aching vulnerability. He’d hate to break down in front of her like this.