She told him about reading the diary that morning, and as he ate his fifth piece of chicken, she asked him about his wife. “You never mention her. You talk about your mother and your brother who died. You’ve even mentioned your favorite horse, but you never say anything about your wife.”
“You would have me tell of her?” he said in a tone that was almost warning.
“Is she as beautiful as Arabella?”
Nicholas thought of Lettice. She seemed farther away than a mere four hundred years. Arabella was stupid—a man could never have a moment’s conversation with her—but she had passion. Lettice had no passion, but she had brains—brains enough to always determine what was best for her. “No, she is not like Arabella.”
“Is she like me?” Dougless asked.
Nicholas looked at her and thought of Lettice cooking a meal. “She is not like you. What is this?”
“Sliced tomatoes,” she said absently, then started to ask Nicholas more questions, but he interrupted her.
“The man who abandoned you, you said you loved him. Why?” he asked.
Dougless immediately felt defensive and started to say that Robert was great husband material, but before she spoke, her shoulders slumped. “Ego,” she said. “My own overblown sense of how powerful I was. Robert told me no one had ever loved him very much. He said his mother was cold to him and his wife had been frigid. I don’t know why I thought this, but I truly believed that I could give him all the love he’d ever need. So I tried. I gave to him and gave to him, and when that wasn’t enough, I gave some more. I honestly tried to do everything he wanted me to do, but . . .”
Halting, she looked up at the sky for a moment. “I guess I thought that someday he’d be like those men in the movies, and turn to me and say, ‘You’re the best woman in the world. You give me all that I ask for.’ But he didn’t. Robert kept saying, ‘You never give me anything.’ So, dumb me, I’d try even harder to give him more. But . . .”
“Yes?” Nicholas asked softly.
Dougless tried to smile. “But in the end, he gave his daughter a diamond bracelet and me half of the bills.”
She looked away from him, but then she saw he was holding out a ring to her. He’d stopped wearing his big rings when he astutely saw that no other men wore such rings. This ring had an emerald the size of a beach pebble.
“What is this for?”
“Had I access to what is mine, I would shower you with jewels.”
She smiled at him. “You’ve already given me the pin.” She held her hand to her heart. She wore the pin inside her bra, afraid to wear it outside because its age and uniqueness might cause questions. “You’ve given me too much already. You’ve bought me clothes, you’ve . . . You’ve been kind to me.” She smiled. “Nicholas, the time since I met you has been the happiest of my life. I hope you never go back.”
She clamped her hand over her mouth. “I didn’t mean that. Of course you need to go back. You need to go back to your beautiful wife. You need to . . . need to make some heirs to inherit those wonderful estates you’ll not have to forfeit to the queen. But, did you realize that if Dr. Nolman tells us who betrayed you, you might return at that moment? Immediately. Lee says the name and you disappear. Pouf! Gone, just like that.”
Nicholas, who had been rummaging in the basket, stopped. “I will know tomorrow. Whether he wishes to tell me or no, on the morrow I will find out.”
“Tomorrow,” Dougless said, and looked at him as though trying to memorize his features. She looked down at his body, at the shirt stretched across his wide shoulders, at his flat belly and his muscular legs. Fine legs, he’d said, and she remembered him wrapped in a towel.
“Nicholas,” she whispered, leaning toward him.
“What is this?” he asked sharply, holding up a big square of chocolate between their faces.
“A brownie,” she said, feeling like a fool. Who was she kidding? He’d kissed her a few times, but only when she’d thrown herself at him. Yet he’d returned from a morning with Arabella with his shirt misbuttoned. “Food,” she muttered. She seemed able to please him only with food and plastic wrap. She so much wanted to touch him that her fingertips ached, but he seemed to have no such feeling toward her.
“I guess we better go,” she said flatly. “Arabella will be back soon and she’ll want you.” She started to get up, but Nicholas caught her arm.
“I would rather an hour with you than a life with Arabella.”
Swallowing, Dougless didn’t dare look at him, but she sat back down. Was he telling the truth or just trying to make her feel better?
“Sing me a song while I eat these,” he said.
“I can’t sing and I don’t know any songs. How about a story?”
“Mmm,” was all he said, his mouth full of chocolate.
Dougless realized how many stories were new to him, stories that were part of her culture but he knew nothing of. She told him of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.
“I have a cousin like that,” he said. He finished off the plate of brownies, then, to her surprise, turned and put his head on her lap.