Filed To Story: Alessia Mistaken as Mistress Book PDF Free
“No, you won’t,” he argued with a raised palm. “Tell your mother good-night.”
She gave Celia a concerned glance. The woman had slumped over on the bed. A light snore parted her lips. “Sweet dreams, Mother.”
Nicholas raised Celia’s feet to the mattress and covered her with the thick counterpane before walking toward Alessia.
“I can walk,” she said quickly.
“Your foot hurts.” He plucked her into his arms as though she weighed no more than William.
Alessia balanced herself with a hand splayed against his chest. Her fingers met soft springy curls and the undeniable heat of his skin beneath. It had only been a few hours since she’d kissed him, touched him, wished for him to remove his clothing…
Swiftly he carried her to her dark room and strode to the bed.
“Careful,” she warned. “William is lying there.”
He identified the baby’s form in the darkness and placed her beside him.
“Thank you, Nicholas,” she said before he moved away.
His tall outline stood motionless.
“Thank you,” she repeated softly. “For taking care of my foot. I’m sorry about the glass…and the stain on the carpet.”
“See that you take care with it,” he said. “If it looks at all inflamed, send for the doctor.”
“I will.”
Still he didn’t make a move to leave.
She felt the need to apologize for Celia, too. She wasn’t really her mother, but he believed she was. And that made her feel responsible.
“You know, Claire,” he said in that seductively low voice that always sounded as though it were meant for her ears alone, “that you are welcome for as long as you wish to live here. Forever if you desire. Your mother, too.”
Alessia stared at his shadowy form in surprise.
“I can’t fault you for her behavior. I’m sure you’ve done your share of covering up and making up for her in your lifetime. You don’t have to do that here. We’ll make arrangements and cope with her together.”
Together. Words failed her. Coherent thought failed her. This was far from anything she’d expected him to say. More than she’d hoped for. But she knew it could never be. She and Nicholas would not be doing anything “together.”
His kindness was far more difficult to accept than his derisiveness or his anger…because she didn’t deserve it. “But why?” she asked finally.
“She’s your mother,” he answered simply. “She’s William’s grandmother.”
Alessia closed her eyes and braced herself against the tidal wave of guilt that slammed into her. Just when she thought she had him figured out, just when she’d prepared all her defenses, he did or said something that proved what a small, selfish person she’d become.
She had no one to blame for her situation. She’d expended a great deal of energy on blaming her father, and Gaylen’s memory had been a sound whipping board for months, but the truth of the matter was she’d caused all the grief herself.
Resigned, she opened her eyes.
He was gone.
Bereft, she curled up on the mattress, touched William’s head for reassurance and ignored the dull throb in her foot and the hollow ache in her heart.
There was no choice. There never had been.
She had to leave soon.
The following morning Nicholas arrived at Claire’s door early and rapped softly. She called out for him to come in.
Her expression told him his presence had caught her off guard. She wore a white apron over a deep green day dress, the first time he’d seen her in anything other than black, and the dress surprised him.
“Good morning,” he said.
“Am I in time for William’s bath?”
“We were just preparing it,” she replied.
“Had you forgotten you’d invited me?”
“No, I…”
“Just didn’t think I’d take you up on it,” he finished for her.
“Well, I know how busy you are.”
“I don’t want to get in the way.” Now he wondered if it had been a good idea to come.
“You won’t be in the way.” She gestured for him to follow them to the dressing area where she poured hot water into a basin, cooled it with water from a nearby pitcher and checked the temperature. “When he was first born and the weather colder, we used to do this in front of the fire.” She turned. “It’s ready, Mrs. Trent.”
The woman tucked William firmly beneath one arm and poured water over his hair, turning it a dark gold against his pale scalp. Claire handed her the soap and she lathered and rinsed. Claire blotted his head dry, and Mrs. Trent propped him upright in the ceramic basin, holding him beneath one arm and supporting his back and head.
It seemed a routine the women and baby were familiar with, but Nicholas watched with fascination. Imagine handling a slick squirming infant in such a confident manner! As soon as William was seated in the basin and Claire sponged water over his shoulders and round little belly, he kicked and flailed his arms. Water splashed in all directions.
Claire laughed.
Nicholas laughed.
“My, but you’re a strong boy,” she crooned, laughter in her voice. “Handsome, too.”
“We’ll have to be watchful of you at the picnic tomorrow,” Nicholas added. “You’ll catch the eyes of all the girls.”
She laughed and met his gaze, the smile softening her exquisitely feminine features and adding a glow to her skin and eyes. She had promised he’d see her smile if he attended William’s bath. That was why he’d come.
And the sight took his breath away.
The smile revealed her straight white teeth and a curved line at each corner of her lovely lips. Her cheeks were flushed with pleasure, and a drop of water clung to her chin. Huge wet spots dotted her dress and apron.
Her radiant joy at motherhood became her as much as the exultant flush of passion. And he’d seen them both.
William gave a healthy kick and splattered even Nicholas. He laughed out loud.
The surprise in her eyes gave him pause. But of course, she’d never before heard him laugh, either.
Claire placed the baby on her bed and dried him. His hair stood in pale spikes atop his head, and Nicholas laughed again. She had William diapered and dressed within an amazingly few minutes. Her wet clothing must be uncomfortable, and she needed to change.
“We’ll be leaving at about ten tomorrow morning,” he said.
“We’ll be ready.”