by Bree Wolf
He held her gaze until she nodded.
“I gave you my word,” he reminded her, “that I would not lay a hand on you without your consent, and I need you to believe me that I will not break it. Not every touch is fuelled by passion. Some are meant to comfort, to ease pain. I swear I had no intention of betraying what little trust you might have in me.”
Again, her body relaxed and her breathing evened.
“However,” he continued, wishing that he didn’t feel the need to, “to be honest, I …” He took a deep breath, and her eyes narrowed, suspicion in them as she waited for him to go on. “I will not deny that I desire you.” She tensed. “You asked whether men did not care who they took to their beds, and I suppose many do not or at least not always. I can only speak for myself, and I need you to know that you’re not just anyone to me. We may not know each other well, but I do feel like there is something between us or at least like there could be. I will not risk the future we could have for a moment of pleasure.”
Shaking her head, she averted her eyes. “Pleasure,” she scoffed, then swallowed before her eyes returned to his face. “I want to believe you, and I want to trust you.”
“Thank you,” Sebastian said, relief echoing in his voice. “I promise I will do what I can to prove myself worthy of your trust.” And maybe one day, she would trust him enough to allow him to show her that her marital duty could be pleasurable after all.
Chapter Fourteen – A Harsh Truth
That night, Charlotte slept like a log until the early morning light streamed in through the drapes, gently luring her away from the blissful nothing of slumber. When she opened her eyes and found herself back at the inn, reality came rushing back and she sat up with a start. Seeing her husband’s blanket neatly folded on one of the chairs by the window, she glanced around the room.
It was empty. He wasn’t there.
Quickly, Charlotte jumped out of bed and hurried to slip on her gown lest he return and find her undressed.
By the time footsteps could be heard from down the corridor, Charlotte was brushing out her hair, eyes fixed on the window and the calm street below.
The door creaked open, and she felt him enter the room as though a burning heat emanated from his body, reaching out to her.
A shiver went down her back, and then the door closed.
“Good morning,” he said, a hesitant touch to his voice as he stepped closer. “I hope you slept well, my lady.”
“Surprisingly so.” Keeping her back turned, Charlotte continued to run her brush through her dark auburn hair. If she didn’t look at him, maybe she could pretend they weren’t alone in the room. Although his honest words the night before had calmed her nerves, she couldn’t help the nervous jitter that jostled her whole being whenever he approached. Nor could she banish the fear that clawed at her heart, threatening her with a repetition of the atrocity she had suffered.
“I’m glad.” Standing behind her, he waited, then cleared his throat. “Would you look at me?” he asked, his tone pleading rather than holding a demand.
Taking a deep breath, Charlotte raised her chin, then turned around and met his eyes.
Even in the dim light of the room, they shone piercing blue as they travelled over her face, searching, asking. Then his lips curled up, and he nodded to her. “I assume you’re hungry,” he began. “I’ve taken the liberty of ordering a hearty breakfast for the two of us. Then we’ll be off. Everything is prepared.”
“Thank you, my lord,” Charlotte said, once more averting her eyes as the intensity of his gaze became unbearable. It felt as though he was slowly peeling back layer for layer of her assumed identity, getting closer and closer to her true self. And whatever happened, she could not allow him to see her true self.
She was certain she would regret that for the rest of her life.
After following him down the narrow stairs, Charlotte allowed him to pull out a chair for her at the very table where they had shared their supper the night before. Always watching her, always noting even the smallest change in her movements, he was there as though he feared an attempt on her life and was ready to give his own to protect her.
And all the while, he took special care not to come too close, not to touch her.
While her husband exhibited an open curiosity about her, his eyes constantly watching, Charlotte mostly ignored him, keeping her attention fixed on the food on her plate. Only if asked a direct question did she speak to him, and only in short, clipped sentences.
After a while, she noticed the fascinated glow in his eyes dim.
Good. She thought. It would be better for them if they continued their lives separate from one another. After all, she could never be a true wife to him. To punish his father, her presence was not required. At least not after being presented to the earl upon their arrival at his estate.
If she were lucky, she could retreat to a small country estate and spend the rest of her life regretting her past, waiting for death.
Once they had both eaten their full, her husband had their bags brought down from the room and loaded onto the carriage. Then he pulled back her chair and escorted her outside. He walked beside her, but did not offer her his arm.
As they came to stand before the open carriage door, he turned to her, his eyes alert as he held out his hand to help her inside. “This is an offer,” he said, glancing at his hand. “You are free to accept it or refuse it. My only intention is to assist you in whatever way I can.”
For a moment, Charlotte was speechless at the consideration he showed her. Never would she have expected him to keep his word in the strictest sense. He would not lay a hand on her without her permission.
Grateful, she nodded at him, then lifted her hand and slowly placed it in his.
As his fingers closed over hers, she took a deep breath. The pulse in her neck began to quicken and before long it felt as though she had just run all the way from London.
His eyes held hers before they momentarily darted to her thudding pulse. Then, without delay, he guided her up the step and into the carriage, immediately releasing her hand.
Taking his seat across from her, he smiled. “If we press on, it should take us no more than two days to reach my father’s estate.”
Charlotte nodded in acknowledgement, then turned her gaze out the window as the carriage rumbled down the narrow street.
For a long time, silence settled over them, the only sounds coming from outside. The churning wheels. The howling wind as the end of the year approached on fast wings. The sound of hoof beats carrying them farther and farther south.
Then her husband shifted in his seat, and she could feel his eyes once more studying her face.
Taking a deep breath, Charlotte bit her lower lip, then turned to look at him.
A teasing smile played over his features as his gaze continued to search hers with such frankness that Charlotte felt her hands begin to tremble. Why was it that he seemed to see beneath her mask so easily? Could he tell that she wasn’t who she said she was? Did he know more than he admitted?
“You look suspicious, my lady,” he observed, his eyes darting to her clamped hands resting in her lap. “Have I given you any reason to be concerned?”
Although her eyes narrowed, Charlotte shook her head. “Not yet.”
“Not yet?” Despite the good-natured curl to his lips, there was a hint of disappointment in his eyes. “Do you generally distrust people?”
“I didn’t use to,” Charlotte admitted, remembering years of levity before the harsh truth forced her into a reality she’d rather not have known existed. “There was a time in my life when I believed that all would be well, that people were good.”
As his eyes narrowed and he regarded her more closely, Charlotte swallowed. Why had she said that? Why was it that he made her feel as though she could tell him anything?
Seeing the tension that had come to her posture, he sat back and his eyes softened. “I remember such a time myself.” He sighed, then shook
his head. “Maybe only the young have the luxury of such innocence. Maybe once we outgrow childhood, we are bound to be disappointed by the rules that govern the world.”
Charlotte frowned, her eyes fixed on his face. “Do you speak of your sister?”
His shoulders slumped, and he exhaled deeply.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.” Although reluctant, Charlotte turned away. The devotion and unconditional commitment he always portrayed for his sister warmed her heart, and she realised listening to him speak of her in such ways eased the pain in her soul. After all, the world couldn’t be such a bad place if devotion like that existed, could it?
“My sister has always been the one good thing in my life,” he whispered, his head resting against the wall of the carriage, his eyes staring into nothing. “My father is probably the most cold-hearted man in England, and trapped in a marriage to such a man, I suppose my mother died a little more each year. I remember sometimes I would speak to her and she would look right through me as though I wasn’t even there, as though she couldn’t see me.” He took a deep breath. “Remembering it now, I feel as though I lived the first ten years of my life in darkness.” A soft smile drew up the corners of his mouth. “And then, Victoria was born, and the sun began to shine on my world.”
Seeing the glow on his face, Charlotte smiled as she could feel its warmth reach across and touch her chilled skin.
He blinked then, and lifted his head. “Do you have a sister or a brother?”
“I had a brother once,” Charlotte whispered, remembering the tiny infant she had barely gotten to know. “But he died within his first year. My parents were heart-broken.” She looked up and saw nothing but sympathy in his eyes. “I often wondered what it would have been like had he lived.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, blinking back tears. Then he took a deep breath and cleared his throat. “Maybe I should not speak of this to you.” A question rested in his eyes as he looked at her. “It will only cause you pain.”
“No,” Charlotte said, shaking her head. “I enjoy hearing about your sister. It reminds me of−” Breaking off, Charlotte turned away, forcing her gaze away from the man who knew how to draw out her secrets and to the safety of the rolling hills outside the window.
“Who does it remind you of?” her husband asked, shifting forward in his seat.
Again, she could feel his eyes on her as though he could simply read the answer on her face without her even speaking a word.
“I’m sorry,” he said after a while. “I suppose for one day, we’ve shared quite a lot with each other, and I’m grateful that you would trust me with your secrets.”
Her secrets? Charlotte wondered. If only she could. Deep down, she had never been someone to keep secrets. However, the past three years had changed all that. It had been so long since she had spoken to anyone openly, without fear of betraying her secret, without holding back. Sometimes her head throbbed with the effort it took to navigate her way through the lies she hid behind.
If only her brother had lived. Yes! Would he have stood by her side? Or would he have been disappointed as well, demanding that she marry the man who’d ruined her to avoid a scandal? Sometimes Charlotte didn’t know what was the worst thing that ever happened to her. The night Lord Northfield had cornered her in the library? Or the moment her parents had turned against her, betraying the trust she’d always had in them?
Within days, her world had come crushing down around her so many times she had lost track. And then Kenneth had died, and with him, all hope for a future.
He had always been her protector, her support, her friend. And then he had been gone, and she had lost more than just the man she was to marry. Without him, she had lost herself. Her sense of self-worth. Her belief in right and wrong. Her sanity.
And it had made her do things she would regret for the rest of her life.
***
That night, they stopped at an inn half-way to London, and Sebastian was relieved to find that he could rent two rooms instead of just one. His wife, too, looked grateful to be able to lock him out and spend the night in safety.
Sebastian tried hard not to take her reaction personally; yet, it ate at him that she would still doubt him. Again, he reminded himself that she had suffered greatly and that such pain could not be overcome overnight. He needed to be patient if he ever wanted her to trust him … unconditionally and without doubts.
The next morning when they set out again, he took great care not to step too close, keeping his distance and only offering his assistance wherever he deemed necessary, leaving the decision to her whether to accept it or not. Like the day before, she took his offered hand and allowed him to help her into the carriage, the ghost of a smile on her lips as her eyes lingered on his for a moment.
Suppressing a grin, Sebastian took the seat across from her, hoping that they could continue their conversation from the day before.
At first, she seemed disinclined, keeping her gaze out the window, her eyes distracted by inner thoughts. However, after a while, as the carriage continued to rumble down the country lanes, he noticed her gaze drifting to him every now and then. Not turning her head in his direction, she glanced at him through slightly lowered eyelashes.
Sebastian cleared his throat, and she quickly dropped her gaze.
Amused, he smiled, then turned to look at her. “I seem to remember you saying that you’ve never travelled anywhere,” he began, hoping to draw her into a conversation. “Have you ever been to London?”
Meeting his eyes, she nodded. “Yes, I grew up there. At least during the season. My mother would−” Suddenly, she clamped her mouth shut, and he thought to hear a silent curse as her hands dug into her coat.
At least during the season. Her words echoed in his mind, confirming the growing suspicion he’d begun to have. However, pretending to ignore her slip of the tongue, Sebastian asked, “Have you ever wished to see more than just England? The continent maybe? Or even America?”
Swallowing, she lifted her eyes, a hint of relief in them that he didn’t press for an explanation. “I never thought about it much. Every now and then, we would hear stories or my father would receive a visitor who’d been travelling and share his adventures at the supper table.” She shrugged. “And you, my lord, what made you travel to the continent?”
Sebastian sighed, realising that naturally he could not ask a question without expecting one in return…but hating it nonetheless. “My father,” he admitted. “In his opinion, it was the mark of a gentleman to have travelled the continent. He insisted, and I … I allowed myself to be persuaded.” He shook his head, remembering the moment he had received news of his sister’s marriage. “I suppose I never truly believed he would trick me like that. He wanted me out of the country so that my sister would be defenceless against him. It is one decision I will regret for the rest of my life.”
“It is truly sad,” she said, her voice clouded with emotion as though she herself had just shared a deep, personal memory. “For so many reasons.”
Meeting her eyes, Sebastian saw understanding and compassion in her warm gaze. For what reason, he could not say, but she knew the meaning of guilt, of regret. Her sympathy was one born out of personal experience and not a platitude voiced because of convention.
“Had you been there,” she asked, holding his gaze, “what would you have done to prevent it?”
Taking a deep breath, Sebastian swallowed, then nodded. “Anything.”
A soft smile came to her face. “You’re a good man,” she whispered, a touch of surprise in her voice as her eyes studied his face. “Your sister is fortunate to call you her brother.”
Despite the warmth in her eyes, guilt once more clawed at his heart, and he wondered if he would spend the rest of his life with this ache in his chest. “I cannot help but disagree, my lady,” he mumbled, uncomfortable that she should think of him that way when the truth was far from complimenting.
“You did not know what your father woul
d do,” she counselled, her gaze lowered to her folded hands. “People’s intentions are not always written on their faces. One might seem gallant and honourable, but then prove to have no conscience, no decency, no respect for others.” She took a deep breath. “It is a harsh truth. One not easily learnt.”
Watching her, Sebastian frowned. “You speak from experience, my lady?”
For a second, her eyes flickered upward, meeting his, before they returned to her folded hands. “I suppose few can walk this world without seeing darkness at least once.”
Sebastian took a deep breath. “How did you encounter it?”
Instantly, her jaw clenched, and she turned away, eyes fixed on the landscape outside, unblinking, until tears welled up, spilled over and ran down her cheeks. And yet, she remained quiet. No sob escaped her throat. No strangled moan was torn from her lips. Her heart suffered in silence.
And yet, Sebastian could hear her pain as though she was screaming at the top of her lungs. The agony he witnessed felt like a knife plunged in his gut.
Gritting his teeth, he forced air down his lungs. Although they had barely known each other a fortnight, her pain was now his, and he knew in that moment that he would walk through hell and back again to see her safe.
Not since Victoria had been born, had he felt such an overwhelming desire to protect someone … no matter the cost.
Chapter Fifteen – Welcome to the Family
The remainder of their journey, they spent in silence. However, Charlotte was acutely aware of her husband’s watchful gaze as it lingered on her face, tracing the tears that spilled from her eyes.
Ashamed, she had turned her head away, and yet, there was nowhere to go. Trapped in a carriage, she was forced to endure the humiliation at having him witness her breakdown. Rarely in her life had she felt so mortified.
Fortunately, he remained where he was. At one point, he had shifted in his seat, leaning forward, his hand rising as though he intended to offer comfort. Then, however, he had stopped himself once again, allowing her the space she needed to force her emotions back under control.