Chapter 9: Why, sweet?
1654words
God! He was dead tired. The responsibilities resting on his shoulders were overwhelming.
There was a time these past few days he thought he would not be able to complete his immediate duties. But just the thought of his Sinclair, waiting for him to get back to her, he found the strength to persevere despite the anguish he was feeling from losing his father.
The late Viscount was a distinguished member of London's Aristocracy. His internment and the place where he was laid to rest had to befit his station in life.
With friends at the club and with his solicitors' help, everything went smoothly as planned.
The only important thing missing was his Sinclair. Six fucking days. He didn't receive one text from her. Not one missed call. Nothing.
His imagination was running wild. He told her there was a family emergency. No response. What could she be up to?
Was she eating well? Did she get sick? He tried his best to sneak out but it was fucking impossible.
Nobility from all over England kept arriving. The Royal family was in attendance.
Some stayed until the funeral. His duty was to stand beside his mother and support her in her grief.
Thankfully, everything was accomplished according to plan.
After the necessary reading of the will and the transferring of his father's assets to the bequests, he was ready to leave.
Monday came and he told his family about Sinclair. They understood, showing their support for him. Eager to meet her, his mum smiled for the first time in a while.
He was so excited to see her but she was not home when he arrived so he went directly to the school. Even though he requested a vacation due to recent events, he made an excuse to visit his class to see his sweetheart. To be with her. And maybe bring her home with him.
He needed her. She was his solace.
What he saw upon entering the classroom felt like a punch to his gut.
Sinclair sat at the furthest part of the bleachers. Face ashen, her cheeks hollow. Her beautiful eyes were red and bloodshot. And she had lost weight.
He held onto his outrage and promised to deal with her after class.
Instead, he was gobsmacked by her anger and pain, leaving him stunned. Alone. Good thing he recovered quickly to run after her.
His heart clenched at the sight of her puking her guts out. She had been sick and he was not around to take care of her.
Nick believed he only had to explain and he could fix this rife between them until he saw the bandages on her wrists.
Why? Nicholas hoped it was not what his instincts were telling him.
Carrying her trembling body to her bedroom, he sat her on his lap. His anger was simmering but he controlled it for now.
"Tell me why, Sinclair." He tried to soften his gruff voice, though he knew he sounded angry. Not at her, but at the way she had coped up with their separation. He should have brought her with him and damned the consequences.
"I was hurting. And...and this is the only way to stop it." Her small voice was muffled on his chest. He heard her nonetheless. Tightening his hold on her small body, he pulled her closer.
"This will not happen again. I won't allow it!" The pain of losing his father and the pain of missing his Sinclair was too much. He knew he shouldn't raise his voice but he could no longer control his emotions.
She tried to get up. He clasped her down. "Fucking stay." He hissed. Her body surrendered, however, her mind was elsewhere.
"You can't just disappear and come back to my life like nothing happened, Nicholas." She turned to look at him, sadness in her eyes. "I waited for you to call me at least. Your text was vague. And after a week...I thought..." She gazed at her trembling hands resting on her lap. "Every time I called, it went to voicemail."
"I know." His man of affairs was handling his correspondence while he and his friends were busy with the Prince Regent. "And I'm really sorry." He took a deep breath. "My father died."
Sinclair gasped at his confession. Shock written all over her face then she embraced him tenderly. Sobbing. Murmuring she was sorry over and over. Fuck!
With an unhappy sigh, he buried his face on her neck while she cried for him. For his loss. For both their grief.
This was exactly the reason why he didn't tell her over the phone in the first place. He didn't want her sad. It had backfired and he made it worse.
He would never allow her to hurt herself anymore. She moved in with him whether she liked it or not.
Or he seized her, caveman style, as his father suggested.
***
Nicholas didn't realize they had fallen asleep until he could no longer feel her in his arms. That woke him up.
The cramp and stiff mattress were killing him. He groaned. His muscles ached. Tonight they would sleep in his bed. Their bed.
He wondered how long until he could procure a special license. In their world, three months was enough for a grieving period. Then he would announce their betrothal as soon as it was acceptable.
Where was she anyway? Something smelled nice in the kitchen so she must be there.
He was right. Taking the time to study his sweetheart. Barefoot and in his dress shirt. Almost perfect. It would have been when her tummy was swollen with their first child. Soon. He promised himself.
Maybe right after her graduation.
Sinclair must have felt him because she stopped what she was doing and faced him with a shy smile.
"Hi...um...I thought you might be hungry. I'm making pot roast and vegetables." Her eyes widened fractionally and her breathing shallowed in anticipation. She watched him wear down the short distance between the two of them. Sexual desire crackled like an electric current beneath the surface of their skin.
Yes. The whole house could burst out in flames and they wouldn't notice. The attraction they felt for each other was out of this world.
There was nowhere for her to go. His tall and lean body caged her in and he pulled her in his arms. Lips and nose on her hair. Absorbing her sweet scent.
Sinclair felt so good, especially when she softened on his harder frame. A sign of surrender. She might not know it yet but she trusted him.
"I'd eat anything you cook for me, sweet." He murmured. Lips cruising her neck. She shivered.
Her skeptical look made him smile. She had no idea how much he wanted her to be a part of his life. That will change tonight.
Nicholas was about to demonstrate, however, they were interrupted by the ping of her old white oven.
"Dinner is ready," she whispered. Her eyes were on his lips. He pecked her, making him chuckle when she jumped in surprise.
"Let me help you, Sin." She thought twice but nodded her head at his imploring look.
Releasing her, he escorted her to the table while he removed the hot oval ceramic from the oven.
She was about to get up but he shook his head. He had every intention to serve her. Which he did, with generous portions of food on their plates. He also found a sparkling red wine in her fridge. He read the label. It will do.
The steamy beef and vegetable stew tasted so good. He could get used to this. They ate in silence, she glanced at him shyly under her eyelashes.
"Are you going to stay the night?" He paused from taking a bite of his excellent beef and gave her his attention. Trying to think of the right thing to say. Shit! He was not good at this.
"We are going out, sweet." She was taken aback by his words, eying him suspiciously. "Pack a few things after dinner, please."
Sinclair shook her head. Her face was tight and tense. "I have work tonight, Nick."
"You don't, sweetheart. I won't leave you here alone. Please don't argue with me on this, Sin. We are going with or without your clothes. Not that it matters. I'll buy you anything you need. You are mine to take care of."
"I won't be your kept woman." She hissed. It was his turn to be surprised by her statement.
"Have I given you notions that I am making you my mistress, Sin?" His deep voice was too quiet. He needed to control his annoyance. It was more his fault than hers. He had not been completely transparent about what type of relationship he wanted from her.
"I...I...I don't know," She looked down at her half-eaten food. Fuck me! He was an asshole.
His breath dispelled heavily from his chest, berating himself for making her uncomfortable.
"Sweetheart? Look at me, please?" He waited patiently for her beautiful misty eyes to focus on him. "I want you. Not temporarily but much more than that. Much much more, Sin. You will know soon enough. Please trust me. I swear on my father's grave, I will never hurt you. Not in any way."
Something in his words might have made her realize he was telling the truth because her sweet pinkish lips curved in a small smile. Shaking her head yes, she looked away shyly.
Thank God.
"Thank you, sweet. I promise you, you will never regret it." He squeezed her small hand gently.
He should call his housekeeper after dinner to clean the master bedroom at his flat.
Mrs. Dee would be so delighted if he told her he would be bringing his Sinclair home.
A little gossip from her would cheer his grieving mother up.
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