Elise sat in the chair by the fire, waiting for Lucien, as she had been directed to do by his butler Xavier a few moments before. Ruth had gone with the servant, valise in hand, and Elise had been alone ever since.
Alone was not a good place to be in her current mindset. She kept reliving those terrifying moments with Ambrose, the stark realization that he would rape her, and after she hurt his eye, that he might even do worse than that.
She also kept reliving his threats. Could he be right that Toby had a book of secrets? She wouldn’t put it past him. He’d loved to hold those kinds of things over people, for sport rather than gain. He had lived to control and hurt.
He had died doing the same, in a duel over a married woman who he hadn’t even cared about. He’d just wanted to get one over on her husband.
Which had also been his motivation for “taking her” from Stenfax. She had been a trophy during their marriage, nothing else. He brought her out when he wanted to show her off and ignored her when he didn’t.
She shivered at the cruelty of both the former Duke of Kirkford and the current. Luckily her thoughts were interrupted when Xavier returned to the parlor with a cloth in his hand.
“For your eye, Your Grace,” he said, not meeting her gaze as he handed over the item.
She took it and felt the coldness of ice folded within the soft layers of fabric. She lifted it with a blush and covered her throbbing eye.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
He nodded. “The earl will be with you momentarily. And your maid is very comfortably situated now, so you won’t have to worry about her.”
Elise managed a smile for the kindness of Stenfax’s butler. She certainly did not deserve as much.
“Good night, Your Grace. If I can be of any service tomorrow, I hope you will not hesitate.” He executed a swift bow then left her to herself again.
Elise sighed and rose to her feet, walking over to the fire to stare at it with the eye that wasn’t currently covered. The other one still hurt, but the ice did help a bit.
“Elise?”
She turned and caught her breath. Stenfax stood in the doorway, a robe tied around his waist, but his legs and feet were bare and a V of naked chest was visible through the top of the dressing gown. He was not wearing anything beneath, and her body tensed despite everything she’d been through that night.
He said nothing else, just moved across the room toward her. She waited for him, motionless and wordless as he gently caught her hand and lowered the cloth from her eye.
His gaze went wide and his lips turned down in an angry scowl as he looked at her eye. She hadn’t looked at it yet, but she could feel that it was swollen.
“Goddamn it,” he said, and then lifted the ice back to cover the injury.
“It doesn’t hurt,” she whispered.
“Liar,” he bit out, his tone harsh and hard.
She bent her head. Yes, they both knew she was that. But tonight had stripped all those lies away. All the truths would come out now. She might as well start practicing on easier ones than the ones to come.
“It does hurt,” she admitted. “But it will fade.”
“Better,” he said. “Who did this to you? Winstead?”
She caught her breath as she looked at him again. “H-how did you know I was with Winstead tonight?”
He let out a long sigh. “I went to Vivien’s. I-I saw you with him.”
She pursed her lips. “Do you also know we agreed to terms tonight?”
He stiffened and his jaw twitched, answering her question before he bit out. “No. I did not.”
“It wasn’t him who did this, Lucien.”
“Then who?” he asked, his voice still rough as he reached out to trace her jaw with his fingertips. “Who did this?”
She fought for calm. The truth had never been easy with this man. Even less so now that it was a Pandora’s Box of pain waiting to be unleashed on both of them and everyone else they loved.
“The new Duke of Kirkford,” she admitted softly.
Everything on Lucien’s face went dark and hard. Like a storm on an angry sea, he looked utterly destructive and dangerous.
“He burst into my room, demanding—” She cut herself off with a sob she hadn’t even known was coming. “But I didn’t let him.”
Silently, Lucien slid his arms around her and drew her against his chest. He smoothed a hand over her hair as he whispered, “You don’t have to tell me tonight. There will be plenty of time to do it tomorrow. But I do want to ask one thing.”
She nodded against his chest, soothed by his embrace, by his scent, by everything that she loved about him.
“If you came to terms with Winstead, why did you come here after you were attacked?”
She let out a broken breath. “Because I didn’t know where he lived,” she admitted, and felt Stenfax stiffen. She lifted her gaze so he could see her eyes. “And because I knew you would keep me safe. Even if I don’t deserve it.”
His expression softened and he whispered, “You don’t deserve to be in danger, Elise. Now, come. It’s very late and we can talk about everything tomorrow. Let me take you upstairs.”
He took her hand and led her from the room, led her up the long staircase and down a hallway. A door there had been left open and he drew her through. She looked around.
It was a guest chamber, plain but serviceable. It was still cool in the room, which was to be expected considering she had just arrived and the servants who had been awakened to deal with her being there had only a few moments to ready it. Her valise rested on a table by the window and the covers had been drawn down on the bed.
It wasn’t Lucien’s room, of course. She had never seen Lucien’s room. The night they stole—made love, before their engagement was destroyed—was in her old room in the home of her late parents. He’d snuck through her window.
She shook the memories away and looked at him. He was just…watching her, and had made no move to come farther into the room, nor to leave her.
“It’s lovely,” she whispered.
He shrugged. “It’s safe for tonight. Safe until we can work this out.”
She moved toward him a step, unable to stop herself. Unable to keep from lifting a hand to caress his cheek with her palm. He shut his eyes with a long exhalation and leaned into her touch.
“Will you stay?” she asked softly.
His eyes came open, dark and hooded as he stared down at her. But also resistant. And she knew why. They had stated this affair was at an end, if he took her one more time it muddled everything.
Tonight, though, taking wasn’t the first thing on her mind. It wasn’t the last, either, but it wasn’t why she asked him to stay.
“I keep picturing him coming across the room at me,” she admitted with a catch to her breath. “So I ask you not so you’ll make love to me, but just so you’ll…stay.”
He held her gaze for a long moment and she could tell he was analyzing her words for their veracity. Even in this, he didn’t believe her. But why would he? She had earned no less.
He said nothing as he took her hand again and moved her toward the bed. He turned her and began unbuttoning the gown Ruth had hastily helped her into over her night rail. She held her breath as his big hands brushed gently over her skin, warming her, soothing her.
He pushed the dress away and looked at her. “You really did have to run, didn’t you?” he murmured, staring at the thin night rail with its stitched straps.
She dipped her chin. “You think I punched myself in the eye just to manipulate you into saving me?”
He considered that a moment. “No. I don’t. I’m sorry if I sounded like I doubted you. I don’t. Now, come.”
He motioned the bed and she got under the covers and slid over, leaving him a space. He shut his eyes, took a long breath, and when he opened them he started to get in beside her, his dressing gown still tied around his waist.
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�You sleep in your robe?” she asked.
His gaze snagged hers. “I sleep in nothing. I didn’t think that would be a particularly good idea, considering.”
She licked her lips and his eyes went wide, but he got into the bed regardless and snuffed the candle on the side table.
“Roll over,” he whispered in the dark. “Face the window.”
She did, putting her back to him, and he tucked himself around her from behind, drawing her back against his warm chest. One hand rested on her stomach, the other supporting her neck beneath the pillow.
She settled back against him, burrowing into his embrace. Oh yes, she could feel the stiffness of his cock against her backside. He wanted her. She wanted him. But for now, that wasn’t the reason he was here.
He was here to protect her, to comfort her, and that meant more than any passion they might share. For the first time in years, her body relaxed, welcoming sleep rather than fearing it. And she drifted off with Lucien’s breath warm on her neck and his body cradling hers.
Lucien opened one eye slowly. He hadn’t shut the inside curtains last night, so it was only the flimsy ones meant for privacy that covered the window. Morning sunshine flowed into the room, cascading over the bed and the woman beside him.
At some point she had rolled onto her back, and so he had the perfect view of her relaxed face, her full lips and the nasty black eye that even the ice hadn’t kept from swelling and darkening.
His stomach clenched at the sight of her damaged. He would kill that son of a bitch for touching her. For trying to do worse than just blacken her eye.
Her gaze fluttered open, her gaze bleary with sleep, and she whispered, “This is always my favorite dream.”
She lifted a hand to cup the back of his head and drew him down, lifting her lips to his. He should have pulled back, resisted, but he couldn’t. He kissed her back, gently, but gentle didn’t matter. His body was already hard and touching her made it worse, not better.
She moved against him with a sleepy murmur, and then she pulled back suddenly and stared up at him. He could see her realizing that this wasn’t whatever dream she referenced. He was really there. She was really there. That was really his cock pushing into her stomach.
Her breath was short, her pupils dilated as she reached between them and pushed the folds of his robe aside. She found his cock and took him in hand, sliding her fingers down the length gently.
“Damn it, Elise,” he murmured as he pressed his mouth against her neck. He sucked there as she stroked, precariously perched on the edge of losing all control.
But he didn’t. Slowly, she rolled until she was on top of him, straddling his lap, lowering her mouth to his. He sucked at her tongue, desperate to be joined with her, and she shuddered in pleasure. Her hand reached between them, she guided him into position and suddenly he was sliding into wet, tight heat. She rippled around him, pulsing and massaging as she let out a broken, heated moan of pleasure.
She shifted her hips, lifting against him, rubbing him, and he was utterly lost in sensation. She moved with purpose, driving toward her pleasure and dragging him along for the ride. It didn’t take long for her to find it. She let out a soft cry that she muffled by kissing him, and her hips pumped hard against him. He knew he was going to come, he couldn’t stop it, and he pulsed up hard into her, finding his pleasure without withdrawing from her heat.
She pulled away, her breath short, and they stared at each other, recognizing what they’d just done. What could come out of it.
She rolled away and sat up. “I didn’t manipulate that,” she said.
He stared at her. She felt she had to defend herself, and why wouldn’t she? He’d been accusing her of much worse behavior and manipulations for weeks now. But looking at her, thinking about what they’d just done, he realized he felt no such accusation toward her now.
“No, I don’t think you did. I could have moved you.”
She pushed to her feet and her nightgown fell around her hips and legs. She paced toward the window, the light framing her like an angel. “I would never trap you.”
He got up too, watching the emotions play on her face. Was she upset because he might have ruined her plans to find a lover to protect her? Or was it really that she didn’t want to be judged by him, hated by him?
In the end, he supposed it didn’t matter.
“I’ll ring for your maid,” he said softly. “Get dressed and join me for breakfast. There is a great deal for us to discuss.”
She turned on him, and now her look went from concern to abject terror. Slowly she nodded. “Yes. I have so much to tell you, Lucien. So much to say.”
He backed up a step, uncertain how to proceed when she had such an expression. In the end, he just nodded. “I’ll see you downstairs.”
He moved to the door, ringing the bell for her servant as he walked out. But in the hallway, he leaned against the wall, catching his breath. He’d spent his life looking backward and identifying moments when everything had changed. When his father died and he became earl, when Elise left him and destroyed everything and now…this moment. In his heart he knew everything was about to change.
He just didn’t know how. And that terrified him.
Chapter Fourteen
Lucien stood in the breakfast room nearly an hour later, dressed and pressed and looking every inch the Earl of Stenfax. But he felt less than impeccable as he poured himself a cup of tea and looked idly toward the door. In a few moments Elise would walk through and then…
Well, he still couldn’t shake the feeling that everything was about to change.
“Good morning, my lord,” Xavier said as he came to the entry of the breakfast room.
Lucien let out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding and nodded. “Xavier. Thank you again for your help last night. Her Grace will be joining me for breakfast shortly, and if you are wondering about future arrangements, I honestly have none to share with you until I speak to her.”
“I understand, sir. The truth is, I came to tell you that your family is here.”
Lucien slowly set his cup back on the saucer. “My family?”
“Mr. and Mrs. Danford and Lady Barbridge,” the butler clarified. “Your mother does not seem to be in attendance.”
Lucien sighed deeply, for he almost wished his mother were here. Lady Stenfax would still Felicity’s and Gray’s tongue in a way Rosalinde could not.
Especially since there would be no hiding that Elise was here. Nor that her eye was blackened. Nor anything else.
“Any chance they might be persuaded that I’m not in residence?” he asked, knowing the answer even before Xavier shifted in discomfort.
“Mr. Danford said if you asked me that I was to tell you, ‘we’re not leaving so you might as well stop hiding’. I do apologize, my lord, I’m just the messenger.”
“Of course you are, I don’t blame you. Just send them in.” Lucien straightened his waistcoat and remained standing. Within a moment, Gray, Rosalinde and Felicity all came through the door.
“Good morning,” Lucien forced through a tight jaw. “I don’t recall you sending word you would be calling. I’m afraid it’s a bit inconvenient to receive you this morning.”
Rosalinde at least had the decency to look chagrined at that remark, but Felicity and Gray did not. Gray, in fact, folded his arms and grunted, “I don’t care about the inconvenience, Stenfax. We need to speak to you.”
Felicity shot their brother a look and moved toward Lucien with a much gentler air. “Lucien, we are all worried.”
“And I appreciate it. But I must tell you that Elise—”
She caught his arm. “Elise is exactly the topic we’ve come here to broach. Please, won’t you let us speak without interruption, without argument?”
He pressed his lips together. He was trying to warn them of Elise’s being there and all of them were determined to perform some kind of…mediation with him on that very subject.<
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“I’m trying to tell you—”
“We all know you’ve been bedding her,” Gray interrupted.
Rosalinde blushed and shot Lucien an apologetic look before she said, “I thought we weren’t going to be so blunt, my love.”
Gray shook his head. “I’m sorry, Rosalinde. This is too important a matter to dance around. Lucien, I had hoped that your obsession with the woman would pass, but I fear it isn’t, so I must tell you that I worry about what happened before.”
Felicity was nodding along with him, and Lucien stiffened. “There is no reason to discuss that,” he snapped. “The subject is closed.”
Gray threw up his hands in frustration and all but shouted, “Lucien, you once stood on a terrace wall and nearly threw yourself to your death because of this woman. How can I stand by idly while you tangle yourself in her web again?”
“Lucien?”
All four of them turned as a group and Lucien caught his breath. Elise was standing at the entrance to the breakfast room, her hands trembling at her sides, her face pale.
And he knew, without a doubt, that she had just overheard his brother’s words. All of them.
Elise stared at Lucien, Gray’s words ringing in her ears. Gray and Felicity were watching her—she felt their shocked gazes as they realized she was here and probably had been here since last night.
But she didn’t care. All she cared about was Lucien.
“You almost killed yourself,” she whispered. “Over—over me?”
His cheek twitched. She knew that motion all too well. It had always been a telltale sign of a subject he didn’t like. One he didn’t want to talk about.
He didn’t move toward her, but he said, “I was very drunk, Elise. It was the night you threw me over and wouldn’t see me.”
She staggered back, nearly depositing herself on the floor as she lifted a hand to cover her trembling lips. Pain and guilt tore through her, like a bullet, like a knife, and she felt the tears beginning to stream down her face.
“Oh, Lucien, Lucien,” she whispered.
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