It was pitch black outside, and Nan had neither seen nor heard from Sir William since his hasty departure that morning. However, she gave little import to his sudden and unexplained absence. She was going about her day in the company of Mrs. Borde, her assistants, and Jamie and even dining with them when Sir William had not returned for supper.
Now, she sat warm and comfortable beneath the thick coverlet of her bed. Reading by the light of a bedside lamp until the distinct sound of a crash pulled her attention from the written words before her to the door. The thick wood provided no answer to the sudden and inexplicable sound that had rushed the hall beyond her door. When the noise did not immediately repeat, Nan returned to her book. Then, back to staring at the door when, this time, the crash was louder and carried with it the muffled sound of voices.
Squinting at the door, Nan slipped from her bed and pulled on her dressing robe before grabbing a candle and its holder from within the drawer of her nightstand. Lighting the candle, she headed for the door. Knowing that she ought to stay where she was, but was both too annoyed and too curious to see what the commotion was.
Exiting her room, she walked down the hall, listening for the next crash. She made it as far as the main hall before nearly being plowed over by Hoss and Sir William as they came stumbling around the corner. Slamming gracelessly to a halt into a nearby in-table, she sent it and them colliding to the floor in a noisy, tangled mess.
"Miss Harris!" Hoss greeted. His face was red and quite swollen, though it didn't take the deformity of his features or the glazed gleam in his eyes to tell Nan that not only had he been brawling but drinking. She could smell the alcohol on them from where she stood. "Look, Sir, look! It's Miss Harris come to see us." Hoss beamed, slurring his words as he tried to shake his inebriated Master back into consciousness, only succeeding in obtaining a short, throaty grunt before Sir William lapsed back into whatever liquor-induced oblivion had claimed him.
"Hoss hush!" Nan whispered, holding her finger to her lips to quiet the immensely happy drunk. She did not wish to wake the rest of the house, although she had a good idea that the only reason she had been the only one to seek out this late-night disturbance had been because she was not accustomed to Sir William and his man stumbling through the house drunk.
"Right, Miss." Hoss agreed, nodding as he held a wobbly finger to his lips, then promptly passed out.
"Oh, blast!" Nan swore, rolling her eyes to the ceiling, as the two immobile men lay motionless at her feet. Having half a mind to leave them there until morning, she quickly discarded the thought when she realized they were just within sight of the main entrance, where anyone who entered would have a clear view of them.
Thinking she might save Sir William the embarrassment of being discovered dirty, bruised, and bleeding, lying unconscious in the hall, Nan rolled her eyes yet again. Sighing as she set to work on locating a less public place for him and his man to sleep off their day's actives. Scanning over the rooms to her right, Nan recalled what each was and finally concluded that Sir William's study was the only viable option since none but Sir William's staff were permitted to enter the room. And it was the only room she felt she could get either man to without much fuss.
Setting her candle on the floor, she quickly righted the toppled in-table and moved her light there, not wishing for it to be knocked over, and set a rug on fire or stanched out should it hit the stone and leave her completely in the dark. Rushing over to the study, she pushed its doors wide open so she would not have to stop once she'd started on her task. Hurrying back to the men, Nan bent down, grabbing hold of Hoss' booted ankles, as she began to drag his limp and remarkably heavy form down the hall.
"What the bloody hell are you doing, woman?" Sir William's sudden bark startled her into dropping Hoss' feet and falling back onto her bottom with a barely muffled squeal of surprise; her hand clenched to her breast as she glared at the odious man currently staring at her from his half-risen position on the floor, his eyes still cloudy and unfocused from too much drink.
"Trying to get Hoss into your study." She bit, rising to her feet, absentmindedly brushing at her nightgown as she spoke.
"By dragging him?" Sir William grinned, seeming to find her attempt amusing, though given his state, she doubted there was much he wouldn't find amusing at the moment.
"Well, I certainly can't carry him now can I?" she shot back, her glare intensifying, then vanishing as she watched Sir William get to his feet. Taking a moment to reclaim his balance before awkwardly walking over to Hoss and picking him up, wrapping one arm around Sir William's neck while his left arm wrapped around Hoss' waist, keeping his body from entangling itself with Sir William's legs as he half walked, half dragged the man into the middle of his study and unceremoniously dropped him there, the callousness of the action causing Nan to wince since she knew well enough that Hoss would be feeling that landing in the morning.
"Will there be anything else, Ma'am?" Sir William turned back to Nan, standing as straight as his drunken body would allow, before giving a curt salute and then falling to his knees as he made to step forward.
Quickly, Nan rushed to his side, taking his arm about her shoulders, trying to steady him as he slowly tried to regain his feet.
"I think we'd best get you to bed," Nan remarked, looking over Sir William's unstable feet and battered face. With his scars, the cuts, bruises, and welts that now adorned his features looked far worse than she hoped they were.
"If you insist, Ma'am." He grinned down at her wolfishly, his hand slipping from about her shoulders to her waist, casually resting on her hip as his grin widened. Nan did nothing to stop his unwanted movements; she had handled drunks before and could tolerate a certain amount of touching. She only tolerated Sir William's now because she had heard enough tales of Sir William's drunken temper to know it would be best that she keep her own in check while she tried to walk him from his study to his room.
The trek was long and unsteady, as several times Nan had to hurry to correct his balance before he sent them both careening into a wall, door, or yet another in-table. When they finally reached his room, Nan quickly opened the door and stumbled in with him, his feet deftly tangling with hers and bringing them both to the floor in an awkward heap that somehow ended up with Nan on top of Sir William, straddling him.
"Whoa, there, love. If you wanted me that badly, you could have had me in the study." He smiled, his hands resting on her hips as she glared down at him.
"For a man in your current condition, I think you'd have some trouble rising to that particular occasion," Nan replied, annoyed with the liberties his drunken mind was taking, even though she knew he could take such liberties sober. He had said she would stay with him as his Mistress, which brought forth an assumed understanding that she would willingly share his bed, whether she liked the idea or not. And while she had told him, she was no man's whore. No man had ever offered to look after Jamie the way he had and was.
"For you, love, I'd rise to any occasion." Sir William beamed, the drunken pleasure in his voice making his tone a husky purr as he raised a hand to cup her cheek, gently stroking the flesh beneath his thumb.
"Bold words for a man who cannot even make it to his own bed." Nan retorted sharply.
"What need have I for a bed, when this position suits me well enough?" He rose, both hands to her face.
----------------
William lay on the floor, his mind a clouded mess save for the one clear focus that sat before him, on him, unmoving, unflinching. Like a dream with storm blue eyes, William drank in the sight of Nan Harris or whoever the unusual woman sitting on top of him was. In nothing but her sleeping gown, her dark hair down, framing her lovely face in softly flowing waves. Her eyes were nearly a match to her hair in the dim light, the moon's glow being the only light in the room as it shone through his window, seeming to worship her with its soft caress as if she were its only reason to shine.
"Do you intend to make me your Mistress now, Sir?" she questioned, her unexpected words causing William to pause. "Is my title now to be my truth?" she asked, and like a wave, her words rushed over him, dousing all primal affection his muddled mind had allowed him to display as he realized he'd been lowering her face to his. He'd had every intention of kissing her until she had spoken. Had she said nothing and let him keep his delusion that she was his, he would have done far more.
"Remove yourself from me then. Or such may still be the case." William barked rolling to his side to more easily rise. Gracelessly dislodging her from his person as he did. Once he stood, he regarded her more sharply than when his drink-induced lust had clouded his vision. And while his mind may have regained some of its sobriety, sadly, his body was slower to follow suit as he swayed from the difficulty of standing.
"You'll need to—" Nan began, only to be cut off by William's commanding voice.
"Return to your bed, Nan. I'll see to myself." He instructed, keeping his back to her and his hands from view as he clutched to the lip of the small table before him. Berating himself for being such a fool when he heard the shuffle of her feet and the door close behind her.
"Damn." William cursed. "Damn!" he shouted, removing all items from the table in one angry swipe. Watching as they crashed and shattered into the wall and floor. Pulling away from the table, he walked over to the chair that sat by his dark fireplace, ridding himself of his tailcoat, waistcoat, and shirt. All soiled with mud, blood, and drink before he dropped into the chair without the slightest bit of elegance. His hand scrubbed over his face before combing through his overly long hair, giving a clear view of the spot on the floor where he and Nan had been only moments ago.
Staring darkly at the offending spot, a number of thoughts ran through his mind, yet only one screamed louder than the rest. He was a fool, a complete and utter fool. Simply because Nan could stomach the sight of him, stand her ground against him, and even argue with him did not mean she would love him. He was an imbecile to think she would, simply because he was already besotted with her. With his reputation, his temper, and his face, William would most likely be taking whores to his bed for the rest of his days. Though, he doubted that would do little to ease his want of Nan. William had never been a man to fall slowly into love, even with Sophia he had known within a matter of days. And given what had happened then, he thought his heart would not be so hasty to repeat that mistake, but it seemed it was a bigger fool than he.
With a sigh, William closed his eyes, threading his aching fingers through his hair as he thought about the situation he had placed both of them in. She would be comfortable but ruined now that those in town knew she was being kept by him. And he would be damned before letting her go and have her subjected to the accusing eyes and wagging tongues of the town's gossips. He would be damned further for wanting to keep her, knowing her presence would drive him mad with wanting the one thing he knew she would not give him.
And if she would, he did not have the slightest idea of how to go about getting it. Nan, he was slowly beginning to realize, was nothing like Clara, Sophia, or Carrie. Her affections could not be bought. But affection was not all he wanted from her. He wanted what she gave her boy: her love, her loyalty, her comfort, even her protection. The only difference was he wanted those things as a man, and as a man, he was able, ready, and willing to return them if she did see fit to gift him with such treasures.
---------------
With a wince, William came awake only to find the fireplace that had been cold, dark, and lifeless moments ago blazing away merrily and Nan on her knees before him, still in her nightgown with a shawl was wrapped about her shoulders and the hand he'd had in his lap was now being held in her own as she dabbed and wiped at his cut and swollen knuckles with a damp cloth. A large bowl of water sat by her knees, with several smaller bowls around it.
"I didn't mean to wake you," she spoke, casting him a quick glance before returning to her work. He stared down at her as rubbed and dabbed at his hand.
"Why are you here?" he asked, feeling like a dolt for asking.
"I'm a healer, and you're in need of healing. But if you'd rather the Doctor looked over these, I can always leave, and you can call for him." She replied, her tone somewhat peeved toward the last of her statement. William could barely contain his smile that she had been annoyed simply by the possibility that he might prefer the Doctor to her looking over his injuries. As if he would subject himself to another man's touch when it was hers, he craved.
"If Carrie trusts your skills, I see no reason why I should not." He replied, again feeling like a dolt for saying he trusted a whore's judgment.
"Carrie keeps a tighter knot on her purse strings than you," Nan replied, meeting his eyes with a quirked grin before dropping them to his chest. "How far do they go?" She asked, her tone placid as she nodded to his chest. Her words caused William's brow to crease before his gaze dropped to see what she was looking at. Inwardly, William groaned when he saw his bare chest. The scars covered the entirety of his right shoulder and neck, traveling just past his collarbone, available for her to see, as were those running the length of his right forearm and the back of his hand.
"What you see here. My right shoulder, the whole of my back, the back of my neck, the base of my skull, and my right ear." He said, pulling his hand from hers to move the lock that hid what little was left of his ear, a small lump with a hole that just seemed to melt into the side of his head and, at the same time, provided her with a small view of the damage down to the base of his skull.
Silently, William watched as she stared at the new scars, quietly absorbing the knowledge of their extent, waiting for her face to become as horrified as Sophia had when she'd seen him without cloth or bandage to cover his wounds. A small, angry fire burned in his mind at the memory of her tearful features, of the cruel words she had shrieked at him. "Hardly, a proper topic for conversation." He added bitterly, pulling his gaze from hers as he stared into the fire. Then, he reached for his shirt on the floor, seeking to cover himself from her view.
"Are you cold?" she asked.
Her odd question brought a frown to William's face as he watched her pull her shawl from her shoulders, standing to drape it across his chest. She took his shirt from his hand and tossed it back to the floor, tucking the ends of her garment about him. "That should do a better job," she remarked before returning to the floor.
"Thank you," William whispered. Barely managing the words. He'd sought to hide the grotesque from her, and she'd misconstrued his actions for a chill. Was there nothing of him that repelled her?
"As to your comment, this entire arrangement is hardly proper." Nan breathed, taking his hand back into hers. "As a matter of fact, it isn't. But then I'm a beggar who tends to the ills of whores and has a child to feed. So, proper be damned." She added, looking back to him for the last, a small smile quirking the corner of her lips.
"Still, you should not have to look after me in such a state." William supplied, though, why he suddenly felt the need to protect her from the sight of him when only a little while ago he'd not held a single thought for what she might think of him in naught but his skin. Had she not spoken when she had said what she had, William would have taken her then and there.
"If you're worrying that the sight of you will offend my virgin sensibilities, you needn't. I haven't been one in quite some time." She informed him easily, much to William's astonishment. Though, he did not know what surprised him more. That she was not a virgin or that she had admitted she was not so openly. In either case, her not being so could easily explain her current status as a beggar.
"Were you married?" he asked, thinking to glean whatever information he could from her. Now that she was speaking to him again. And now that he knew the only way to learn about who the woman before him was would be to ask and listen carefully to any answer she gave, praying it was the truth.
"Were you?" she asked in turn, her eyes back to his as she dabbed a white creamy substance that stung against his cut knuckles. "Was she? The woman who was your first?" she added, again to William's surprise. He knew Nan was bold, it was one of the things that had drawn him to her, but he had never thought that she would speak so openly of matters he had only ever discussed with other men. "Do try to remember, Sir. I tend to whores. Who are women. And women love to talk. And what we talk about best is what we do every day."
"Would you think less of me if she was married?" William asked, wondering if she might condemn him for taking part in adultery or disregard it for the act of a brazen youth.
"That depends." She shrugged, placing her right hand on his knee as she took his left. "Was she your wife?" she asked, meeting his eyes and giving away nothing as she spoke.
"No," he answered. "Does it matter?"
"To her, to God, and perhaps her husband. But no, not to me." She shook her head as she worked.
"I would have thought you'd have more of a judgment on the matter," he replied, his tone even. However, his mind was quite perplexed at how easily she had accepted his admitted sin. She had spoken of God, yet she had not started preaching to him.
"God is the only one who has the right to judge anyone. But if you're intent on being judged, it won't be by me. I've my own sins to worry after." She stated, and had she looked up then she would have seen a pleased and highly approving smile on his lips. William knew Nan had secrets. To come to a town not her own and take on the identity of a dead girl. He had hoped she would have secrets for doing so. Now he knew for certain she did.
"What was his name?" he asked, watching as she rose up on her knees to start cleaning the cuts on his face, her back straight as she stared at him, confused by this question. "The one who had the pleasure of being your first?" he clarified.
"What was hers?" she asked instead.
"Helen De'Vie," he answered. When she did not reply straight away but continued to dab at the cut across his brow, he gently took her wrist, pulling her hand away from his face. When her eyes met his, he asked, "Will you not tell me his name?"
"It's not his name you want." She replied simply.
"And whose name do I want?"
"Mine."