‘Quite so,’ said Sir Hugo.
He kissed her, and Elinor closed her eyes and thought a desperate apology to Lucius, that she should submit – indeed, to seem to like – these kisses from his enemy. Her breathing was ragged, not from passion, as Sir Hugo appeared to believe, but from fear. She knew what he intended to come next; she knew what she intended to come next. They were not the same. Nevertheless, she would need to make her move soon. Sir Hugo had started to unbutton her dress. She had given in to his kisses, and he seemed to believe that she welcomed them. Much longer, and the opportunity might be lost.
‘My Lord …’ Elinor’s voice sounded weak and unconvincing to herself, but apparently not to Sir Hugo. He looked up at her, his face pink with arousal, and looking in Elinor’s eyes like an over-dressed pig. She wondered how she could ever have thought him handsome. She swallowed hard. ‘I …’
Without warning, she brought her knee up, sharply, against his groin, hearing her petticoats rip under the strain. If she had got this wrong, his punishment would be vicious indeed. But no. She had hit the spot. Sir Hugo doubled up as the pain gathered him in, and his grasp on Elinor’s dress loosened. She tugged herself away, leaving a scrap of the delicate silk still in his hand, and ran. Her original captor, to her relief, was not in sight as she dashed for the door. Sir Hugo had chosen his hidey-hole well. Elinor found herself in a part of London she knew not at all, but which was certainly one of the less salubrious places in which she had found herself. She knew she must look a sight: her dress ripped at the shoulder and dirty at the ankle, her hair trailing loose over her shoulders. If it weren’t for the quality of the materials she was wearing, she thought wearily, no one would believe her to be part of the ton. Even as it was, she suspected that people would presume the clothes stolen.
She took another look round, and realised she hoped they would think the clothes a robbery. Wherever-she-was was not a safe place for elegantly dressed ladies of the polite world. A sick feeling arose in her throat as she wondered whether she had escaped one horror only to be plunged into another. The two men on the far side of the road were staring at her – as she watched, one nudged his companion and said something that drew a ribald laugh.
Trying to ape a confidence she did not feel, Elinor slowed her pace to a purposeful walk, as if she knew precisely where she was headed and had no doubt of her ability to get there. She was relieved to see the men turn away.
Five minutes later, she was alone. And totally, utterly, lost. All the famous landmarks of London were invisible in this world of tumble-down warehouses and broken bricks. It was like a different world; and Elinor knew that whatever happened, she would be irrevocably changed by this long, frightening walk. She had thought she knew what poverty was when she and her mother had been struggling to survive in Carryleigh, but the grimness of what surrounded her now showed her that she had barely scratched the surface. Occasionally she caught sight of a few ragged children, playing games along the alleyways, the strong Cockney accent strange to her ears. A woman came right up to her, pawing at her clothes. Her breath smelt rankly of alcohol, and Elinor pulled away hastily.
‘It’s all right, my lovely,’ the woman croaked. ‘I only want to help you.’
‘I’m fine, thank you,’ Elinor said, disentangling herself as hastily as she could, and feeling a wave of guilt about her mistrust of the woman’s motives. Most likely the woman really did want to help – but what if she did not? ‘Thank you,’ she called again, louder, as she walked swiftly away.
‘Come back, lovely.’ The words drifted out to Elinor on the air, but she did not turn.
She walked further and further, pretending that the dampness of her eyes was due to the smoky surroundings and not to her own fear and tiredness. Darkness was coming, and Elinor had never been more afraid.
‘Mrs Crozier!’
Elinor froze to hear her name spoken in the refined accents of a gentleman. For a couple of heartbeats she feared that Sir Hugo Mansfield had discovered her; for a couple more, she wondered whether that might not be preferable to what she could face otherwise.
‘Elinor?’ the voice said, gentle and shocked.
It was a familiar tone, certainly, but it was not Sir Hugo. Elinor looked up to see Octavius Wootten, and almost flung herself into his arms.
‘Mr Wootten!’ She rubbed a grimy hand across her face. ‘Please,’ she begged, ‘take me home.’
Elinor knew few gentlemen who would manage what Wootten did. He asked no questions of her, but led her out of the back streets until they found a Hansom. It was evident that the cab driver was not inclined to be so reserved, but a look in Wootten’s eye made him think twice about saying the words on the tip of his tongue. Instead, he drove them in silence to the Crozier residence, and Wootten and Elinor were equally quiet. When the driver pulled up, Wootten helped Elinor down and paid him.
‘I’ll see you in,’ he said; the first words he had spoken to her since they got into the cab.
‘Thank you.’ Elinor wondered what he must think of her.
The footman opened the door, and recoiled as he saw his mistress, torn and bedraggled, with Octavius Wootten beside her.
‘Is your master in?’ Wootten asked calmly, as if he often experienced such situations.
‘Yessir,’ mumbled the footman, all in one word.
‘Perhaps you would be good enough to fetch him?’ The footman almost fell over himself in his hurry to get away. Wootten looked down at Elinor, and Elinor wondered again what he must be thinking.
‘Why were you there?’ she asked, realising all at once that she had never asked him. It had seemed like a miracle too incredible to be questioned.
‘It is near the workhouse. There was a governor’s meeting.’ Wootten’s expression was gentle. ‘I won’t ask the same of you, but I’ll ask you one thing.’
‘I owe you that,’ she said, unable to meet his gaze.
‘Talk to Lucius,’ he said quietly.
‘Yes.’ Elinor’s lower lip trembled, and she feared for a second that she might disgrace herself further by crying.
Wootten’s hand grasped her arm for a second. ‘Trust him,’ he murmured, as Lucius came down the stairs. ‘He trusts you.’
‘Elinor!’ The tone of Lucius’s voice was one Elinor had never heard from him before. His usual swaggering walk broke down as he ran towards his wife.
‘Lucius. Oh, Lucius.’ Wootten was forgotten as Elinor found herself swept up into Lucius’s arms. ‘I look a mess,’ she murmured, burying her head on his shoulder.
‘Yes.’ Lucius held her even more tightly. ‘Elinor, love, what happened?’
‘I ...’ Elinor lifted her head and caught sight of the footman, standing open-mouthed and staring. Wootten had disappeared, and Elinor thought that she would have to show her gratitude to him another time. She was not sure what might have happened if he had not been there. ‘Let’s go upstairs,’ she urged.
Lucius lifted her up and carried her to her room, setting her down on the bed as gently as if she were made of glass. Elinor tried to smile.
‘I’m fine, really.’
‘No you’re not.’
‘No, I’m not,’ she confessed.
‘I’ve been so worried. Elinor – tell me. Tell me everything.’
Elinor took a deep, shaky, breath and began to relate the events of the evening. Lucius grew paler as she spoke; and she found it hard to meet his eyes as she told how she had kissed Sir Hugo in an attempt to bring him close enough for her to effect her escape. His hands gripped hers ever tighter. Then, back-tracking a bit from her escape, her face averted from Lucius, Elinor told of the things Sir Hugo had said – the horrible, suggestive comments he had made over and over again.
‘I will kill him,’ Lucius said grimly.
Elinor gave what was supposed to be a laugh, but which came out more like a sob. ‘Well, it certainly wasn’t true, but I couldn’t tell him that I’m so terrible that not even my own husband wants me, let alone any of hi
s friends.’
‘What did you say?’ Lucius loosened his grip on her a little, allowing him to look into her face.
She smiled weakly, the expression betrayed by the tears that would insist on trickling down her cheeks. ‘I’m sorry, Lucius. A decent wife wouldn’t even speak of such things. But I’ve never been good at “decent” and it seems I’m not better at “indecent”.’
‘I never said that.’
Elinor shut her eyes, trying to avoid the hurt expression she could see on Lucius’s face. ‘You didn’t need to.’ She took a breath. ‘Lucius, couldn’t we try again?’
‘I hurt you. I made you cry.’ Lucius’s voice was low. ‘I couldn’t forgive myself for that. I never thought–’
‘I don’t understand.’ Elinor’s mind was whirling. ‘You hated it. Hated me. I was terrible.’
‘How could you think that? It was the best night of my life. But you–’
‘I was so happy,’ she whispered. ‘So happy. That one night. And then you turned back to other women. I didn’t blame you: after all, it was our agreement. I was a wife to suit your convenience, one who would not complain about your affairs. I just hoped that sometimes there might be room for me also.’
He pulled back a little to look her straight in the eyes. ‘Since the day I married you, I have never been near another woman, dearest.’
Elinor wondered whether she had fallen into a dream world, where everything she had ever wanted was given to her. ‘Truthfully?’
‘On my honour.’ He gave a rueful smile. ‘I don’t say that it hasn’t been extremely frustrating at times, but once I had you, could you possibly think I would need or want anyone else?’
‘Yes,’ she whispered, honestly.
‘Octavius told me you thought so, once. I did not believe him, truth be told, but when he urged me to tell you of my love, I could not do so. Forgive me my pride, but I thought that even if you did not want me, I could gain some self-respect back by persuading you that others still did. It did nothing but hurt us both, I see now.’
‘Of your ...’ Elinor hesitated, wondering whether she had imagined the word. ‘Love?’ she repeated shakily.
‘Yes. I married you because I loved you,’ Lucius said, sounding almost angry. ‘What other reason would I have?’
‘But you said …’
He stood up abruptly. ‘What was I supposed to do? You made it clear many years ago that you disliked me. I told myself I didn’t mind, made love to woman after woman in the hope it would help me get over you. But I never did. If I’d told you I loved you, would you have married me then? I knew you’d laugh in my face. But for your mother …’ He turned away. ‘I knew you’d do anything for her. God help me, I took advantage, and I should not have done that. I regret it. You should have married for love, as you deserved.’ He knelt beside the bed at her feet. ‘Forgive me, Elinor, if you can.’
‘Lucius …’ Elinor felt like she was seeing her husband for the first time. Always so cool, so collected; to see him broken and kneeling at her feet was shocking. She tumbled off the bed to fling herself down beside him. ‘Don’t you – did you not know? Know I was in love with you, just as I always have been. I tried to hide it, but I knew you were not convinced. Every time I came near you, you shied away.’
‘I didn’t trust myself.’ Lucius’s voice was full of shame. ‘I dared not get close to you in case I could not resist the temptation of your body. God, so many nights I went out so that I would not break down and beg you to hold me.’
‘My love,’ she whispered, the words trembling as she spoke them for the first time. ‘My love.’
‘And then tonight. You would never have found yourself in the position you did today were it not for what I’ve done,’ Lucius said, lost in his own memories and guilt. ‘Can you forgive me for that, Elinor? I swear that I will do anything to win your forgiveness.’
My dear, there is nothing to forgive. I …’ Her voice trembled as she remembered the afternoon’s experiences. ‘I am glad you assisted another woman to get away from Sir Hugo. I cannot bear the thought of anyone being forced–’ She was unable to finish the sentence.
‘I have done bad things, Elinor,’ Lucius said heavily. ‘I am no paragon.’
She smiled at him through her tears. ‘I never thought you were.’
‘I promise I would do anything to prevent you going through an experience like today’s. Sir Hugo will have told you things about me. I can’t claim that none of them are true. But I assure you that I have never, would never, hurt any lady – any woman.’
‘Do you think I don’t know that?’ she asked, leaning her head on his shoulder.
‘You still trust me? After everything?’
‘I love you,’ she said simply. ‘Of course I trust you.’ Elinor stood up and moved back onto the bed, holding her arms out to Lucius. ‘Come here,’ she said, ‘and let me show you how much.’
‘Elinor. Oh Elinor.’
Lucius lay beside her on the bed, kissing her over and over again. Every time he did, Elinor felt a jolt run through her, as if she had been caught by a gentle flash of lightning. She ran her fingers through his hair, then over his shoulders and back, pulling him closer still to her.
‘My Lucius,’ she murmured.
‘All yours. Always yours,’ he agreed between kisses.
‘Show me,’ she murmured, her fingers busy with the buttons on his shirt, even as her mouth sought his once more. ‘Show me,’ she said again, running fingers over his pale skin; stroking the muscular chest with new amazement. This, this, was all hers. Lucius was no one’s but hers. How could an evening which had started in such fear and angst have ended here, in bed with the one man she had always loved? ‘People say miracles don’t happen,’ she mumbled against his neck.
‘I beg your pardon?’
She smiled. ‘Nothing.’
She ran the tip of her tongue up his neck to his ear, and nibbled gently on the soft flesh of his lobe. He laughed, and squirmed against her; she could feel his hard erection pushing against her, and knew that she was desired.
‘More,’ she said; and Lucius laughed.
‘That was what you said last time,’ he reminded her.
‘How you could think I did not enjoy it!’ she replied, holding him as close as she could to her, revelling in the feeling of their bodies pressed together.
‘Too many clothes,’ Lucius complained. ‘I want to feel your skin against mine.’
The very words set up an aching throb in Elinor. ‘Yes. Oh yes.’
He moved away, and she made a small noise of complaint in her throat.
‘I can’t undress with you that close to me,’ he teased.
His reminder about the last and only time they had made love came back to Elinor, and she sat up. ‘Let me do it,’ she urged.
‘You?’
‘Please?’
‘The pleasure will be mine,’ Lucius assured her. Then, more doubtfully, ‘You are sure?’
‘Surer than anything,’ she said, helping him out of his jacket, and then undoing the remaining buttons on his shirt, kissing each new patch of skin as it appeared. ‘Surer than anything at all,’ she added as she pushed the shirt off, leaving him naked from the waist up. ‘Oh Lucius, you’re beautiful.’ To her amazement, he blushed at this; Elinor did not think she had seen him embarrassed in his whole life before.
‘That you should say that to me,’ he said, his voice slightly hoarse.
She smiled up at him teasingly. ‘I have no doubt I’m not the first,’ she retorted. Then, placing another kiss against his chest, ‘But I hope to be the last.’
‘You are.’
Lucius might have said more, Elinor thought, but she had lowered her hands to his small-clothes, and he seemed to be finding it hard to breathe. Revelling in this power over her husband, she moved as slowly as she could bear to, tantalising him with her leisurely pace. His manhood jumped free as she pushed down his clothing, hard and begging for attention. She knelt down, too
k the very tip of the jutting erection into her mouth. Lucius groaned.
She pulled away. ‘No?’ she asked, knowing the answer.
‘Yes,’ he said, the word forced between his lips. ‘Yes.’
She thought she could kneel there forever, between his legs, her mouth taking in the masculine flavour of his erection. She licked a line up towards the base, kissed him gently on her way back. He was wonderful – incredible. And he was hers. She could feel perspiration wetting her skin, drips slipping down between her cleavage and making her breasts tingle that little bit more. She wanted – she wanted everything. Perhaps they had the rest of their lives to do this, but she had already waited what seemed like a lifetime for Lucius. This time, she would have it all. This time, she would rejoice in every single second. No fear, no self-consciousness. Just pure physical love-making.
‘Elinor. God, Elinor.’ Lucius’s words came out as if he could not help them; as if her name was all he had ever wanted to say. The tingling sensation grew within Elinor, not only in her breasts but lower down; in the places she had not even realised existed until Lucius had walked into her adult life, promising nothing and bringing her everything.
‘You are wonderful,’ she whispered; then, almost shyly despite herself, she took his manhood inside her mouth, sliding forward and allowing it to fill her. He was so long, so large, so incredibly wonderful. How could he ever have thought she did not worship his body? How could he ever have doubted her – doubted himself? She slid her mouth back and forth, back and forth, until there seemed to be no sensation in the world except for the feel of his erection sliding to and fro against her tongue, against the roof of her mouth. She would have given anything to take him in further, deeper, but her throat protested, and she preferred to keep him where she could taste him, taste every different secretion from his marvellous manhood.
She could have stayed like this forever, but Lucius sighed, pulling away with a reluctance that even Elinor could not doubt.
Just Another Lady (Xcite Romance) Page 6