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Cora opened Gavin’s letter as Talbot pinned up her thick hair. The afternoon was already warm, and with every hairpin, Cora experienced both a welcome cooling along her neck and an answering tightness in her skull, a not-so-subtle reminder that every reprieve had its sting.
She shuddered compulsively; for one fractured moment, she recalled his hand gripping hers so tightly he curved her knuckles into a comma of fear.
Cora couldn’t take in a word of what Mrs. Carleton was saying. She could only focus on two gray eyes, watching, studying, coaxing her. And the wildness unfurling inside of her, at the astonishing sensation of being seen.
He thought of the only good moment of the night: Cora’s small hand, resting under his, her fingers slightly shaking until he covered them with his palm. He had been overcome by an unfamiliar and irrepressible urge to fortify her…and an equally peculiar sense of satisfaction that she had allowed it.
For reasons unknown, Nate leaned against a table, systematically making his way through a tray of strawberry turnovers. His coat was nowhere to be seen, his shirtsleeves distractingly rolled to reveal a strapping pair of golden forearms.
We *love* a strapping pair of golden forearms, especially when accompanied with rolled sleeves...
It had become an entirely new game between them; Cora spun herself into a tizzy, and Nate spun her right out of it. It was almost as if she needed him. It was almost as if he liked it.
“Well, you aren’t anything like you described yourself. You said you were like your father, thoughtless and idle. But you’ve been here all week, and while you might attempt to be thoughtless and idle, you’ve actually been a great help to me.” “Is that so?” “Yes.” Cora spun her parasol, offering him a small smile. “Believe it or not, it’s been rather…pleasant, on the whole. To have you here.” She had a queer look on her face. A warm, sunny feeling cracked open inside Nate’s chest. Hadn’t he been thinking the same? It was nice to have a purpose, even if the purpose was pretending to be someone
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He was…magnificent. So offensively striking, she felt lightheaded. Cora had suspected the power of his body; Nate’s charisma was the sort that couldn’t be faked. He had a reason to be at ease in his skin, and it must be because he knew his skin was quite possibly the most desirable destination on the globe.
All night, feverish memories had woven through his sleep, returning to him the sacred tenacity of Cora’s searching mouth. By dawn, he was fully aware that the moment he kissed her, his life had fractured into two parts. He couldn’t go back; he didn’t want to. Yesterday, Cora had finally cracked open her veneer, like a geode splitting to reveal a glorious crystal. And what Nate found inside her was unspeakably lovely and singular and sharp. Cora’s interior was infinitely priceless. He couldn’t believe she had entrusted him with it.
Nate had been looking for purpose, to fill the gaping lack in his life, and he hadn’t even realized it. But he could see it now, as surely as he could see the fear and wonder in her eyes. His purpose was Cora. It didn’t feel pitiful or weak to say so. It felt true. She pulled his ramshackle life into focus.
“This isn’t wise,” Cora whispered shakily, her self-preservation at war with her wishes. “What you’re suggesting…we can’t. It’s not…it’s not possible for me. I shouldn’t have even let you—” “Not another word.” His voice was low and urgent. “I’ll let you do anything you want to me, Cora. But I won’t permit you to regret me.”
Her palm spread on his chest, and she could feel his steady pulse beneath three layers of clothing and the welcome shell of his skin. She had felt that heartbeat against her own; she had slept with her ear against it, until the sound became her internal melody.
Tell me, he asked her sleeping form. Tell me what I missed. He was desperate to know it all—wobbly first steps and halting first words; Cora, round-bellied and barefoot, slicing a plum in the darkened kitchens. He didn’t know Leo’s first bad dream; he didn’t know Tess’s first laugh.
But Nate was shifting; no longer did he feel his ragged edges. He merely felt a bit…unfinished. And for once, it didn’t feel like a flaw. Rather, it seemed as though it was supposed to be this way. That all this time, he’d been waiting for her to finish him.
At the end of the day, I’m a poor match, love. I have nothing to offer you. At least not yet. I don’t have the faintest idea what I’m doing, and I fear my paucity will become the greatest sum between us. But when you smile at me, your eyes hooded and heavy in the first light of day, it’s gold in my pockets, gold in my hands, gold in my unformed heart. Gold, gold, gold, Cora. I’ll gather your smiles, and they’ll make us rich.
“And Cora…” Nate swallowed hard, his throat bobbing convulsively. “You won’t be alone.” And suddenly, she knew. As surely as she had recognized him at the soiree, by touch alone, she recognized the words he was holding on his tongue. Nate leaned forward, cradling her chin between his fingers. “I love you,” he whispered. At the bewildering sensation of saying it out loud, he couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m in love with you, Cora.” Something tenuous and stubborn rooted inside her, finding purchase on untended ground. The roots dug, the branches spread. Cora was splitting, a birth as painful and
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Cora had tearfully vowed he had nothing to prove to her, but it was a lie. He yearned to build an entire life with her, but it seemed Cora only needed him to provide ornamentation. Nate wanted to be more than a good time. Hell, for the first time, he was trying to be a good man. He didn’t merely want to receive her love; he wanted to deserve it.
The places Nate had touched were now streambeds of all the ways she still chose by half. Undo it, she thought brokenly. Go after him. Pull him back to four days ago, where you don’t pry, where you don’t doubt, where you simply let a good man love you.
Cora— For most of my life I’ve only thought of myself in terms of my deficiencies. I assumed my shortcomings marked my path whether or not it was one I wanted to trod. My future became a series of unsatisfying, half-asked questions. For a long time, I thought I didn’t know what sort of man I wanted to be. It seemed my brother, my peers, all possessed some innate quality I lacked. But I was wrong. You made me wrong, every single day this summer. I do, indeed, know exactly what kind of man I want to be— Yours. I long for you every moment of the day, and the longing is visceral and immutable.
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“Nate, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I should have trusted you, implicitly. But this is hard for me. It’s always going to be hard for me. I never learned how to love someone the right way.” She gasped, unleashing a great, choking sob, and Nate instinctively rocked toward her. “Cora…” “I’ll get better, Nate. If you let me try, I want to try…but I understand, if you prefer someone whole, someone easy, someone—” “Stop.” “Nate, I’m not—” “I love you.” He strode forward, his gaze searing as he bridged the distance between them. “You maddening woman. Do you hear yourself? You are the love of my goddamned
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“Our families are right outside,” she whispered. “You can’t debauch me.” He slowly inched her toward the chaise. “You just tried to rescue me, love.” His voice was grave, but his smile was wicked. “I’m going to have to debauch you a bit.”
He had four children—two he made and two who had made him—and Nate loved them all fiercely, equally, differently.
