“He promised he’d get help,” she said softly, shaking her head, but Nico kept holding her, keeping her close to him.
“Men like him are beyond help.” The words were scathing.
“Do you really think so?”
There was a pause. “Si. But I don’t know. I have no experience with this, I’m speaking only as to how my ethics guide me. I cannot imagine ever laying a hand on a woman – it fills me with disgust and anger and an unbearable sense of impotence to imagine you ever being hurt by anyone.”
“Thank you.” She wasn’t sure what she was thanking him for, only it felt appropriate to say the words, and she meant them. This whole experience with Nico had been exactly what her soul required. He’d taken a body that had been hurt and unable to trust and he’d kissed her back to happiness. He’d worshipped her flesh, exalted in her physically and with every touch, she’d become more and more herself again.
“I’m stronger now,” she said seriously, pulling away a bit, looking up at him. “Coming here was important. It helped. But meeting you, Nico…” she shook her head slightly. “I know our situation is just temporary, but you need to know how much you’ve changed me.” Her smile was shy. “I feel like somehow you led me back to myself; like I remember who I really am now. Thank you.”
His eyes flecked with a golden g
reen and creased at the corner as he returned her smile. “My pleasure.”
He couldn’t sleep. He stood inside the doorframe, watching Maddie, her gentle breathing, her soft skin, her slender frame. She was naked beneath the sheet, the outline of her body visible to his gaze. She was petite. Short and slim. Even a man of average build would physically dominate her. But if this man was like Nico? Tall and broad and muscled? It would have been easy to hurt her, to damage her, and knowing that someone had done that made him want to shout at the top of his lungs. How dare anyone lay a hand on her?
Nico wasn’t a violent man. When he’d found out the truth about Claudette and Alexander, he’d been devastated and furious, but he’d spoken calmly to Claudette – all the more so for how angry he’d been.
He couldn’t imagine lashing out at someone physically. At least, he couldn’t have imagined that. But hearing the fear in Maddie’s voice, seeing the pain in her eyes as she recounted her experience, he’d wanted to reach back through time and grab the bastardo around the throat and throw him to the ground. God, he wanted to kill him, whoever he was.
She rolled over in her sleep, spreading her arm out instinctively, reaching for him. He stayed where he was, his body like stone. She stayed asleep, a small smile on her lips. It was only tiny, but it lit something in the pit of his belly.
She said he’d pulled her back together again. But she’d done the same to him. After the Claudette business, he’d been holding himself back from anyone and everyone, on purpose. He’d kept busy, gone through the motions, but done whatever he could to avoid actually connecting with another human.
Until now.
His chest puffed out and a smile lifted his lips, because what they had was good. No, it was great. And it would become impractical, soon enough, and they’d end it, but it wouldn’t be without looking back – he wasn’t foolish enough to believe he could stick to their original script so completely. He’d find it hard to walk away from her; he’d hate leaving her when the time came. He’d do it, because it was best for both of them, but he’d never be like he was before Maddie.
He was different, just like she was. They’d changed each other and he was glad for that.
Chapter 9
“HEY, BOY.” MADDIE reached down, patting the big, loving dog’s head, right between his ears. “Where’s Nico?”
Dante’s ears pricked up and he looked towards the house. Maddie followed his gaze, a small frown on her lips when she saw the door wide open and a couple of pairs of shoes just inside. One was unmistakably feminine.
“He’s got company, huh?” She looked down at the basket she was carrying, the scones she’d made wrapped in a tea towel, and suddenly she felt silly for going to the trouble. It was too much. Not appropriate for their kind of relationship.
Especially after the other night, when he’d guessed some of the truth of her past, and he’d reacted so…beautifully.
Her heart slowed down, thudding in time with Dante’s tail. She hadn’t planned to discuss any of it with Nico. It seemed disingenuous and duplicitous, given that he had no idea who her ex actually was, nor his connection to Michael.
But when he’d guessed what she’d been through, it had felt so good to be truthful with him, at least with regards to her situation. His reaction had meant so much to her. His obvious anger – anger at the man who’d hurt her –was validation that nothing that had happened to her had been right. But there was pride too, pride in the fact Maddie had escaped and was in the process of starting a new life for herself.
Nico was a part of that new life, but not for long, and she definitely didn’t want to intrude on his life more than she already had. If he had company, then she’d leave. Disappointment had her turning more slowly than she should. Her head was bent, her eyes focussed on the ground at her feet, so she didn’t see the little body running towards her at a rate of knots until it was too late. It collided with her legs, knocking her so her ankle caught on an uneven piece of grass and she fell with a loud gasp of surprise.
Past trauma had her brow breaking out in sweat, even as she realised her assailant was about three feet tall, with a mop of dark, curled hair and enormous brown eyes.
Dante came to stand beside her, barking loudly and licking her hand. She stroked his head, smiling reassuringly at the dog. “I’m okay, boy.” She turned to the young child who’d felled her. He wore jeans that had seen better days. There was a hole in one knee and an enormous grass stain on the other, and his shirt had been torn at the chest.
“I didn’t see you. Are you okay?” He asked in Italian, rubbing his head which Maddie realised, belatedly, had taken the full brunt of the collision. It pushed any of her own pain from her mind, though her ankle was beginning to throb in a dull way she suspected would mean it was sprained.
“I’m fine,” she promised. She reached for his head, feeling it for eggs and bumps. He continued to stare at her as she did so. “You are too,” she said confidently. “What in the world were you running from?”
He didn’t say anything. He was silent and transfixed.
“Let me guess,” she murmured, warming to the little boy who must surely be a relative of Nico’s. He was a dead ringer for the man, their eyes so similar she felt as though she knew the child. “There was a tiger after you?”