She wanted to find the words to stop this. To fight him. But before she could put them together, Robert’s voice came from the doorway behind them.
“What the hell are you saying, Morgan? What the hell do you mean that you will meet someone on the field at dawn?”
Morgan turned away from Lizzie’s pale and horrified face and found himself staring at Robert’s equally sick expression. His brother was red as a tomato, his hands shaking at his sides as he plowed into the room.
“Explain yourself!” Robert shouted as he caught Morgan’s arm and shook it.
Morgan yanked it away as he glared at him. “Why are you here?”
Robert’s eyes went wide. “Because I watched you sneak out of the room, following Lizzie, and I’m trying to keep you out of trouble. It seems like a foolish occupation, though, considering that you keep finding it over and over again. You keep digging yourself into holes like you enjoy being buried. Well, I don’t enjoy finding a way to get you out of them, Morgan!”
“I’m not asking you to!” Morgan snapped. He shook his head because now the door was crowded with faces. The others in their party had come to the shouting, it seemed. Because all of this had to be played out for all to see.
It was inevitable, in a way.
“I’m not asking you to save me,” he said, this time more gently. He glanced at Brighthollow, who looked sick at the exchange. At Donburrow, who looked confused as he clearly tried to discern what was happening.
Katherine stepped up, setting her hand on Robert’s chest, gently backing him away. “Morgan, what is going on? Why are you shouting? What is Robert saving you from?”
He shook his head. “I did something, I wronged someone last year. That’s why I was attacked a few days ago.” He sighed. “Robert meant well—I know you mean well. I know you…I know you care for me. I know you want to make up for…for our father. For the years all of us bastard siblings were left to fend for ourselves.”
Robert turned his face, but the truth of what Morgan said was plain across his features. “Yes,” he said softly.
“You intervened when Covington wanted a duel the first time,” Morgan said. “You stepped in to save me. But paying him off didn’t end this. It never could because it offers no satisfaction to the injured party, and the injured party isn’t me. Not this time. So yes, I intend to meet Gareth at dawn tomorrow.”
The ladies in the room gasped, all but Elizabeth. She just stood there, her eyes filled with tears, her cheeks pale. She never looked away from him, and her eyes were filled with pain and accusation and fear all stirred into one beautiful, stormy blue sea. He hated himself for causing her this agony, even though he’d always known that was what he would do. He would hurt her. And he had tried not to do so. He’d failed.
“You would die for a mistake?” Robert whispered, and his voice cracked.
Morgan moved toward him and Katherine stepped away, allowing the two brothers the moment Morgan needed. He squeezed Robert’s shoulder. “You don’t trust me. I know you don’t.” Robert opened his mouth, but Morgan shook his head. “Don’t lie to me. You don’t. I haven’t earned it, perhaps. I want to do so someday. But I need you to hear me. I know my friend. I know he won’t shoot.”
Robert rolled his eyes. “He asked for a duel, you have to assume he will fire upon you.”
“He won’t,” Morgan said softly. “I believe that.”
“And if he does?” Amelia interjected.
Morgan cleared his throat and his gaze again shifted to Elizabeth. “Then I’ll take the punishment I deserve.”
She gasped out a sob at that and then rushed from the room. Amelia glanced at Hugh and whispered, “I’ll go after her.”
Katherine and the Duchess of Donburrow followed, too, after sending their own husbands silent looks. And so Morgan was left with the men. All three of the dukes watched him, with equal looks of concern on their faces.
“I’ve never been honorable in my life,” Morgan whispered, and couldn’t help but think of that beautiful night with Elizabeth. He was happier than ever that he had taken it. Earned or not, it was worth it. “Please let me be honorable in this.”
Robert bent his head and acceptance flowed over his face. “Who would you like as your second?” he asked.
Brighthollow stepped forward, his expression serious. “I already offered to do so, but if you would prefer to take that role, I will relinquish it.”
Robert jerked his head up. “You knew?”
Morgan could see the two men, the two friends…the two brothers could easily come to blows in this taut and emotional environment, so he stepped between them. “He knew I was reaching out to Gareth, but we didn’t know if he would accept my offer to fulfill the duel you interrupted last year.”
“I would have told you once I knew,” Brighthollow said softly.
“I wasn’t going to keep you in the dark either.” Morgan met his gaze and held it there. “And if you would stand at my side as my second, brother, then I would be happy to have you there.”
Donburrow stepped forward and pulled out his notebook to write. He scribbled for a moment and then handed the note to Robert.
“He says that both he and Hugh will come as witnesses,” Robert said. “And friends to us both.”
“We will,” Hugh said softly.
Robert turned away from all three men and paced to the window. He stood there for a long time, staring out at the garden. Finally, he turned. “I’ve only just found you,” he said with a shake of his head. “I hope you’re right that I won’t lose you.”
Morgan stepped to him, his heart swelling for this man he had once resented, then tolerated and now…loved. As a true brother and a friend.
“You won’t,” he promised.
Robert embraced him, and Morgan sagged a little with relief. At least he would have friends with him tomorrow morning. But he couldn’t help but think of Lizzie. Her face when she left the room had been…harrowing. And he hated himself for hurting her more than he hated himself for any selfish act he’d ever committed, including the one that would take him to the dueling field at dawn.
Chapter 19
Lizzie sat on the cushioned window seat in her bedroom, staring out at the moonlit garden below. Once upon a time the garden comforted her. But now it only reminded her of what she might lose. Morgan would go to the dueling field tomorrow.
And every time she thought of it, she collapsed in on herself again. She rested her head on her knees and let the tears fall for what felt like the hundredth time that horrible day.
There was a light knock at her door, and she shook her head against her legs before she called out, “Yes?”
The door opened and Amelia stepped inside. Her sister-in-law’s face was lined with concern as she moved toward Lizzie. “I know you told us earlier that you didn’t wish to discuss what happened today, but Lizzie, I cannot leave it be any longer. We must talk.”
Lizzie had known Amelia would come. And perhaps it was best to have it over now. “I suppose you want to speak to me about my running out of the room when you and Hugh told everyone about the baby.”
Amelia wrinkled her brow as she sank onto the window seat beside Lizzie. “Yes, I assume we’ll do that at some point. I know you’re happy for us. But it is also a trying subject. There will be mixed emotions for you. I never expected otherwise.”
Lizzie leaned back in surprise. “You didn’t?”
“Gracious, you are not emotionless, I know that.” Amelia caught her hand and squeezed gently. “You don’t owe me perfect, absolute joy, my dearest sister. Never, ever. But that isn’t why I want to talk to you.”
Lizzie sighed. “No?”
“Are you in love with Morgan Banfield?” Amelia whispered.
Lizzie jolted at the pointed question. She’d expected a great many things, but not that. And perhaps it was because she was taken so off guard that she found herself nodding.
“I am,” she said. “I’m in love with him.”
She tensed as
she waited for Amelia to scold her or tell her what a terrible idea it all was or to argue with her. But she didn’t. She just reached out and caught Lizzie’s hand, drawing it into her lap as she patted the top gently. “I always hoped you would let yourself love again,” she whispered. “After what you went through with Aaron—”
“What we both went through,” Lizzie corrected softly.
“Yes,” Amelia said. “Both of us. But I found my happy ending. The happiest. And you deserve the same. You deserve to love someone…and to have them love you in return.”
“Well,” Lizzie said, and withdrew her hand slowly. “That may not be possible, I fear.”
“You don’t think he loves you?” Amelia asked, and seemed genuinely surprised. “I admit I’ve watched you two together since his arrival. He isn’t immune to you, that much is very clear. He cares for you, I believe that with all my heart.”
“And yet seems determined that there can be nothing between us,” Lizzie said as she got to her feet. “And so I’m left with…this. This limbo. And he’s going to duel tomorrow. He might die, regardless of his perhaps foolhardy belief that this former friend of him won’t fire a gun on him.”
Amelia worried her lip. “I’m sorry.”
“I am too.” She glanced at Amelia from the corner of her eye. “I am going to the duel.”
“What?” Amelia drew back. “Lizzie—”
“I adore you,” Lizzie whispered. “But it’s not a question.”
Amelia was silent for a moment, but then she smiled softly. “Katherine wants to go too. She’s worried sick about Robert and what this will mean for him. That settles it, I suppose. We’ll all go. There’s a hill above the agreed upon dueling ground. The men don’t need to know our plans. We’ll ride there after they leave. At least then we’ll know what has happened. We won’t have to sit and wait for the news.”
“Yes.” A shudder wracked Lizzie from head to toe. “At least we’ll know.”
Amelia got up and crossed to Lizzie. She hugged her gently, and before she pulled away, she whispered, “Don’t leave something unsaid, my dear. You’ll regret it.” She drew back and squeezed her hand. “I’ll see you at dawn.”
“Dawn,” Lizzie agreed, and waved as her sister-in-law left her chamber.
Amelia’s parting advice rang in the room around her. There were so few times in life that one knew the next time one saw the person they loved that it could truly be the last. And yet it was always true. Tomorrow Morgan could be wrong—he could be shot and that would be the end. What she felt would always hang in the air around her.
She couldn’t let it. She hurried to the door to her chamber and was about to rush into the hall, when there was a second knock. She tensed as she flung it open, ready to find Amelia returned to offer more advice, but to her shock it was Morgan standing there, staring at her.
“Morgan,” she breathed, and sucked in a great gulp of air to say the rest, all of it, but he didn’t let her.
He caught her cheeks in his hands, crushing his mouth down on hers. “Don’t say anything,” he murmured as he kicked her door shut, reached behind himself to lock it. “Please don’t say it. Just…let me. Let me.”
She nodded against his seeking mouth, and desperation took over. She clawed at his jacket, he pulled at the buttons along the back of her gown. They stripped each other down in a few moments, their mouths never parting. He pushed her toward the bed, lifting her on the edge. She wrapped her legs around his waist, driving her tongue into his mouth as he lifted his cock into her waiting sex.
They both shuddered, and at last their mouths parted. His face was just millimeters from hers and she stared into his dark eyes as he thrust a second time. Over and over, their gazes locked, he took and took, she gave and gave. He didn’t want to the words she had to say and so she told him how much she loved him with her body. That same body sang with sensation as a result.
But after immeasurable time had gone by, he pulled away from her, leaving her empty and bereft. But it wasn’t for long. He urged her back on the bed and joined her there. She expected him to settle between her legs, but instead he propped her pillows up against the carved headboard and sat there. He motioned to her.
She stared because she realized what he wanted. Her astride him. She hadn’t thought there were more…ways to do this than the way they’d first done it. But the idea of riding him, well, that was certainly titillating.
She crawled up his body. He caught her hips. Wordlessly he positioned her above him, then reached between them. His fingers swept across her entrance, teasing her clitoris, and she shivered with powerful pleasure. He rubbed the head of his cock back and forth against her, stimulating her, until she whispered his name and ground down.
He slipped inside of her with no resistance, and she gripped her thighs against his as she rose up and crashed back down. Waves of the ocean over him, reaching and reaching. He cupped the back of her neck and their mouths tangled again. His kiss was gentler now and she ground a bit softer in response, drawing out the need, the desire, the sensation, for as long as she could.
But soon it wasn’t enough. Her body refused to go slow, she ground harder and faster, feeling the sharp edge of ultimate pleasure build on the horizon. She had to catch it. He gripped her hips, his neck straining as she fought for what she wanted, dragging him toward it.
When she caught it, it was more powerful than anything she’d ever felt before. She dipped her head back, jolting over him as she opened her mouth for a silent scream.
He lifted into her, his mouth finding her throat, his hands cupping her backside and continuing to grind her over him as he extended her pleasure for moments, hours, days, years. None of it mattered anymore. All there was was the man beneath her and their hearts and bodies tangled.
She felt him edging toward his own release. His thrusts grew harder and faster, his fingers dug deeper into her flesh. At last he rolled her onto her back, pounded a few times and pulled out, moaning her name into her neck as he came between them and then gathered her closer, kissing her with the same desperation they’d started with.
And how could he not? After all, he might have made love to her again. He might have poured some piece of himself into her and she back into him. But dawn would still come.
And the future was still a desperate, dark, painful question.
Elizabeth was sleeping. Curled partly into his body, her hand gripped into a loose fist against his chest, her body only half-covered by the sheets, she slept. She’d earned the sleep, after all, after the night they’d shared.
It was wrong of him to take it. In a few hours, he might be dead. And that was why he’d done it. To burn this one good thing into his mind and heart and soul, even if he didn’t deserve it. So that he could hold it as the last thing just in case he’d vastly misread the situation he’d find with Gareth.
He traced the lines of her shoulder with his fingertips, the curve of her breast, the smooth skin of her sides. She smiled in her sleep and cuddled a little closer.
She’d wanted to talk to him about the duel. About…about her heart, he thought. He’d seen that in her eyes. But he’d distracted her, making love to her over and over and over again until she collapsed, weak against him, and slept.
Was that a cruel trick or a kind one? Perhaps both. He’d thwarted one need but fulfilled another. Now it was almost dawn and he had to leave her. Perhaps for a few hours. Perhaps forever. And he didn’t want to.
He loved her. He knew it even if he’d been too afraid to name it until now. Too afraid to claim it. But he could no longer argue against it, so it sat there, an undeniable truth rather than a question. He loved this woman, and the very idea that he might never see her beautiful face again was painful beyond measure.
He leaned down and kissed her. She lifted into him, whispering, “Morgan.”
“Shhh,” he soothed as he moved her arm from his body, tucked the covers around her and left her bed. “Sleep now.”
Her smile f
aded and her expression grew troubled, even in slumber, but she didn’t fully wake. Good. Because if she did, if she pressed and questioned and confessed—and he feared she might—walking away might be impossible. And it was the only way now. The only right thing to do after a lifetime of doing the wrong thing.
Like taking her.
But no, he wouldn’t consider that wrong. It wasn’t wrong. He wouldn’t sully it by telling himself it was. She needed what he’d given. He’d never taken more than she had to give in return.
He dressed swiftly and then crept to her door. He had an hour at most before he had to be ready to face Gareth Covington. He needed to change and filter away the many fears and regrets that clouded his mind.
He needed to ready himself. And so he turned at her door and gave Elizabeth a long look. And knew it might be the last one. So he held that image close as he returned to his own chamber and the preparations he had to make within.
Chapter 20
Light filtered from the east as Morgan finished preparing his horse. Dawn would fully break in a quarter of an hour, perhaps less, and they needed to get on the road to meet with Gareth at the arranged spot on Brighthollow’s property.
He turned to urge his brother, Brighthollow and Donburrow to get on their mounts—and froze. The duchesses were standing on the step, saying their goodbyes to their husbands.
And Elizabeth. She had her hands clasped before her, her shoulders back and one would have never known that she’d had no sleep the night before. She was so utterly, perfectly beautiful.
He wished she hadn’t come down. He bent his head and murmured, “Thank you all. I hope I’ll see you shortly.”
“Good luck,” Katherine whispered, and came down to squeeze his hand. “And know how much you are loved.”
He blinked at the stinging in his eyes as he lifted his sister-in-law’s hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles. “Thank you, Katherine.”
She stepped away, eyes glittering with the same tears as were in the eyes of the other ladies. Morgan could bear the looks no longer and swung up on his horse. “Let’s go,” he grumbled, his voice rough.
The Love of a Libertine: The Duke’s Bastards Book 1 Page 20