Chapter 13

It had been a long, nearly sleepless night for V. So much was different. It was strange to consider how much three small words could change everything. He had said them and she had returned them to him.

The rules of decorum had been abandoned. Over his admittedly weak protests, she elected to stay the night with him. Not atop the covers as she had a couple times before but under them, next to him, occasionally against him.

It seemed every time he might drift off, she touched him. It was not like before when she might hold his hand or lean against his arm. No, now she seemed determined to get as much of her body against his as was humanly possible.

He was not by any means complaining but her sudden increase in comfort level brought his lack of it into stark relief.

V was of two minds about sleeping together. On the one hand, he was as red blooded male as any bloke and so aroused by her proximity his self control, which once had the strength of granite, was becoming as brittle and weak as soap stone which would crumble at her touch. On the other, he was unlike any other man. He had a list a kilometer long of reasons a relationship would never work.

In some ways he wished he had never said the words which had brought him to this uncomfortably comfortable cuddle. In a life where nothing gained had come without gut wrenching sacrifice, V wondered what he would be forced to give up in exchange for the gift of Evey’s love. He no longer possessed anything he could not easily part with. Was he to be the scorpion to her frog? At the end of their romantic journey would he destroy her?

Evey shifted against him and V’s thoughts moved with her. His problems momentarily forgotten, he wondered if she was dreaming and what her dreams were about.

Reality had taken on a dreamlike quality he didn’t like. After Larkhill it had taken months to learn how to distinguish between what was really happening and his nightmares. Most of his dreams now were pleasant fantasies involving Evey and a variety of positions and locations, but he had known they were dreams. Now the line between fantasies and reality was once again blurred.

He had to actively check to reassure himself the warmth of Evey’s small body pressed so close to his was real. The bristle of short hair poking through the thin material of his shirt sleeve as she buried her face deeper was real. The hand trailing butterflies down his torso to rest just above his bandaged midsection was real, wonderfully, terrifyingly real.

He had been close to her before but never like this. In the past he had held her when she cried, offered his strength when she was afraid and his shoulder when she was tired. He had been happy to do it, enjoying the weight of her trust as her body leaned against his.

All along he had wanted more. He had wanted to hold her because he needed her warmth, because sometimes he was too tired to be strong, and because he wanted to pretend there was more between them than the complex dance of captor and hostage.

He no longer needed to pretend. He no longer had to want. The knowledge was as terrifying as it was liberating. God, if for once you chose to listen to me, please don’t let me hurt her.

Evey’s breathing changed. “V?”

“Have a good sleep, love?” His hand moved over her shorn hair stopping at the hairline of her temple. He could touch her now.

Evey stretched, pushing her chest hard against him as her legs moved away.

“I thought I was dreaming.” She said though a yawn.

“I understand.” V replied. To her the merge of dream and reality was welcome.

Evey curled back against him, hesitated for just a second and then draped her leg back over his. Where the contact had been pleasingly intimate when she slumbered, it became uncomfortably forward when she was awake. He tried to hide his anxiety but knew he failed. He could not will his body to relax.

“Am I hurting you? Do you want me to move?” Evey asked, frozen against him.

He shook his head determined to give her what any normal man would. A normal man would welcome her closeness and he would be aroused by it. V was aroused but he was more horror struck by his lack of self control than interested in the possibilities it presented.

Evey wiggled closer to him then, her entire body pressed against his side. The suggestion was obvious. Her voice was husky as she taunted, “You sure you don’t want me to move?”

Not anymore, no, part of him wanted to say while the other part, which was keenly aware of her legs proximity to the evidence of his growing arousal, strangled his words before they passed his airless throat. Fear gripped him as he realized how unprepared for this level of intimacy he actually was. Gradually becoming aware of his self imposed suffocation, he choked in a breath and exhaled her name.

“Sorry. I can’t help it.” She stopped wiggling and rested her head over his heart.

Panic had begun to set in bringing with it a great deal of self loathing. He wished she would put her head elsewhere. He did not like how the rapid beating betrayed him, but he would not push her away. He could not explain if he did.

He wanted to hold her and be held by her. What was wrong with him? Why could he not enjoy this simple pleasure? Why could he not set foot on the path he so badly wanted to follow?

“Did I tell you yet that I love you?”

He felt the words she spoke into his chest more than he heard them.

“You have now.” In spite of his inner turmoil, V smiled behind the mask. Such small words, but they carried a mountain of hope.

Evey’s smiled against his chest. “You’re going to get sick of hearing it.”

“I rather doubt it.” V muttered, hoping with enough repetition he would find a way to believe it. If he accepted Evey’s love, if he returned it as ardently as he wanted to, would he damn them both?

Evey propped herself up on an elbow and looked at him. Her fingers turned idle circles on his chest.

It was too much. V shifted away from her, sitting up, legs over the edge of the bed. He moved too fast and his head swam for a moment reminding him he had recently suffered substantial blood loss which was not aided in the least by his rebellious erection.

Distracted by this completely normal masculine response to a beautiful woman, V momentarily forgot his internal war with God and his left handed gifts. For long seconds he entertained an internal debate regarding the merits and perils of falling back into bed with Evey. What would it be like to show her his love and to feel hers? Would it be okay? Would he inadvertently hurt her?

He cringed inward unsure he could answer his last question. As long as he remained uncertain, he would have to restrain himself.

Evey’s soft voice cut into his thoughts, “You know, I couldn’t understand you before I went to Gordon’s. I didn’t appreciate how special this place is or how dear to me you had become until I thought I would never be able to see you again. I felt like the biggest fool for running away. Too late I realized you were the most trustworthy person I had met since my parents died.” She paused.

Her voice had more of an edge to it when she continued, “It never occurred to me when I was black bagged you could be the man behind it. Once you revealed what you did, my trust was shattered. I hated you for making me believe in you only to be proven horribly wrong. I was so hurt and humiliated. I couldn’t forgive you. It took me a long time to understand it was really a gift you’d given me. It took even longer to understand the price you paid to give it to me. I finally have the ability to forgive you, but I cannot stop wondering what else you could do to me. Does that sound strange?”

“You forgive me?” V asked, surprised she could do what he could not.

Evey’s hand lighted on the center of his back between his shoulder blades. V wanted to lean into her touch, to invite her to explore, but instead he froze. His mind and body went to war as his brain presented a long list of concerns and his body countered with a shockwave of desire. The sensation was like being torn in two and was only worsened when her hand withdrew and a helpless sigh filled the air around him.

Evey moved away from him, pulling her leg in to her chest forming an upright fetal ball. V’s heart broke at her retreat.

She looked up at him. “Yeah, I did. And I didn’t bring this up again to punish you. I understand if you aren’t a hundred percent sure about me. I’ve broken your trust too and I get it if you don’t want to put yourself out there again. But you have to give me the chance to make it right, just like I’m giving you.”

V opened his mouth only to realize he had nothing to say. Why had words so utterly failed him lately?

“Evey, I...” Finally words forced their way to his lips, but watching her search in vain for his eyes, guilt washed over him taking his voice. If oratory skill was the pound of flesh providence demanded of him, V realized he could not relinquish it. He could not sacrifice his words. She could not see his eyes looking upon her lovingly or his lips offering a gentle understanding smile. All he had was Guy Fawkes’ satirical grin and his powers of speech. The grin alone was not enough.

“See? I’ve put my foot in my mouth and I don’t even know why. I know the quality of your character. It’s what I fell in love with. But I know so little about what makes you…you. You see me so clearly, but I’m still fumbling around in the dark. I’m trying so hard not to…I mean I understand…I mean…sometimes I know when I’ve said something wrong, but usually I’m just afraid I have.” Evey was looking at her toes when she finished. He had not thought her posture could collapse further inward, but the human ball beside him had shrunk.

Every personal question she had ever posed to him he had evaded. By the time he promised himself he would honestly answer she had learned not to ask. It was not fair to make her live in the dark but he knew under a spotlight he was a frightful creature. How could he show her what she needed to see and yet remain hidden?

The truth of it was he did not trust her with his pain. He hardly trusted himself with it. No words of his own could be found to articulate his thoughts so he relied on Harding to explain. “There are accents in the eye which are not on the tongue, and more tales come from pale lips than can enter an ear. It is both the grandeur and the pain of the remoter moods that they avoid the pathway of sound.” [14]

Knowing from the look on her face it was not enough, he sighed, “Though rare, any hurtful words you might utter are solely the fault of my silence.”

Evey sat quietly staring at him for a moment as if trying to decide what her next move should be. Finally a small smile spread over her face and her body unfolded like a flower blooming. She reached out and touched the mask, tilting it toward her. “When you’re ready, V. In the meantime, you just have to forgive my insensitivity sometimes.”

She moved to sit beside him. V watched her feet dangle next to his. She was so small and fragile. He was surprised when she leaned over and kissed the cheek of the mask. With a sigh V could interpret as either resigned or content she stood up and stretched her arms over her head with a yawn.

His eyes locked on the few inches of bare tummy her pose revealed and he wished he could put his ungloved hands on her delicate skin. It was one thing to know she would let him. It was another to think of the way she would shudder under his touch. Not in a good way. Not in arousal, but in repugnance. What am I doing?

Her stretch lasted far longer than necessary and he could see the tension had left her muscles. She was maintaining the pose for the sole purpose of letting him look. V turned his head away.

She sighed again and let her arms fall. “I’m going to go check my messages and see what your revolution needs from me today.”

Without a backward glance she left the room. He was again alone with his thoughts.

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14 Thomas Harding – Far From the Maddening Crowd

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