Aycliff's Vow: A Hellfire Club Erotique

by Reed, Kristabel

  Caressing his cheek, she gathered her courage to her and whispered, “Goodbye.”

  He took her hand in his, twined their fingers together and held tight. “There’s still so much time left for us to enjoy.”

  “You should find another,” she said and forced the words past the lump in her throat. “A man with your skills would never be lonely for female companionship.”

  Elizabeth tried to climb from the bed, to put as much distance between them as she could before she changed her mind. Callum grabbed her about the waist and pulled her to him. The move was tender and careful, and when he held her close to him, Elizabeth had to blink back tears.

  “There’s only one woman I desire,” he whispered against her neck.

  Elizabeth shivered and grasped his hands. She didn’t know if she wanted to remove them from her waist or hold him closer. In the end, she held tight.

  “There’s only one woman I joined this club for,” he added. “And only one woman for whom I came tonight.”

  “Don’t.” She shifted from him and looked over her shoulder. The masque limited her vision, but she could see Callum clearly enough.

  “Elizabeth, I’d know you anywhere.”

  Frozen, she struggled from his arms even as she wondered why she thought he wouldn’t say anything.

  Callum kissed her shoulder and didn’t let her go though he did loosen his hold. “No matter how you try to hide from me, I’d know the shape of your form, the tilt of your head, the lilt of your voice.”

  Turning to fully face him, she shook her head. “Forget me.”

  His frown was fierce and when he spoke, his voice held a hint of incredulousness. “I’ll never forget you. You came here tonight and laid with me. That alone shows me you have not forgotten me.”

  Before she could think of a proper reply, Callum had moved. Gloriously naked, he left the bed and stood in front of her. With gentle movements, he untied the masque and slipped it from her face. Cool air brushed her cheeks, and Elizabeth instantly turned her head to the side. She didn’t want him seeing her face, the scars she now bore.

  His fingers cupped her cheek and raised her head. His brown eyes held hers, and didn’t so much as flicker to the scars on her face.

  “I wanted to say goodbye,” she admitted in a broken whisper.

  “There’s no need to say goodbye,” Callum insisted. “Come home with me. All has been resolved.”

  Elizabeth shook her head. “No, Callum,” she said and his name felt so perfect on her lips. “The taint shall always be on me. And so, too, will the scars.”

  “So far as I’m concerned, there is no taint on you,” he said in a harsh tone. His eyes flicked to her cheek then back to hers. “And I don’t care about any insignificant mark on you.”

  “You’re an earl,” Elizabeth said seriously. She put her hand on his wrist and squeezed. “And your wife is a reflection on you. As would even be your mistress. I’m ruined and not in the least suitable to be by your side. I would not do this to you; I wouldn’t subject you to the indignities and taint I carry.”

  His eyes darkened to nearly black. Jerking his masque from his face, he let it fall to the floor. “You can’t believe that. Others sought to ruin your family name; others inflicted this perceived taint on your family. But it’s been washed away by the truth that’s been spoken in court.”

  Elizabeth caught herself shaking her head, no. “No,” she verbalized. “No, it’ll never be washed away. How can it be?”

  “It has.” Callum leaned in and vowed, “I promise you. No one will ever look at you as anything save my wife and a daughter that had been wronged.” He softened them, his eyes losing some of their fierceness and she saw a hint of anxiety there. “You can’t leave me again, Elizabeth. I won’t survive without you. I love you. And by you coming here, you must still love me.”

  Unable to hold back the tears, they fell hotly down her cheeks. Callum gathered her to him and held her, his hands soft as they rubbed along her back.

  “I never wanted to hurt you,” she admitted. “I still don’t.”

  “The only thing that’s hurt me was not having you with me.”

  She pulled back and wiped her cheeks. “Callum,” she said with as much seriousness as she could put into her tone. “You need to give up your quest to find Dervin. Leave London, go to the country. You’ve taken too many risks for me already.”

  His thumbs swept her cheeks, the tenderness in his touch almost unnerving her. “I’ll leave,” he agreed but she knew that tone and knew what he’d say next. “If you come with me.”

  “Don’t you know what’s best for you?” she demanded, exasperated with his stubbornness. “You should stay away from me.”

  “I can’t.” His eyes lost some of their desperateness, in its place determination burned. His passion for her, his unwillingness to let her go threatened to consume her doubts. “I’m drawn to you; always have been. I desire every bit of you.”

  His mouth was soft on hers, a gentle probing kiss. She opened for him and knew she lost whatever argument she might still have had. Wrapping her arms around his shoulders, Elizabeth pulled him close and held on.

  Callum touched her in ways she’d dreamt of for far too long. His mouth kissed down her neck, over her shoulder. His teeth tugged her nipples until she gasped for breath. His hands traced her curves, slipped between her legs.

  He continued to kiss down her body, slow and worshipping and Elizabeth remembered their first night together. Remembered how he’d done just this, arousing her until she thought she’d go mad from wanting him.

  Tonight held that same passion, the same promise. Elizabeth curled her fingers into the bedding and let herself feel naught save Callum. His mouth swept over her hip, kissed her sensitive inner thigh, then pressed to her moist core. She nearly jerked from the bed with the pleasure of it.

  Elizabeth cried out, knew she begged him. His finger slipped into her, the pleasure tightening.

  So many reasons for why she should leave paled compared to the one for why she should stay. Did it matter, all those reasons? Callum didn’t seem to think so. Struggling onto her elbows, Elizabeth looked at him and knew she’d already made her decision.

  “Please, Callum,” she said. The words sounded breathless to her own ears.

  His teeth scrapped over her nub and Elizabeth screamed. Before she could gather her senses, Callum entered her. He moved slowly at first, deliberate as his fingers found her nub again and stroked it. She pressed her thighs to his hips and met him stroke for stroke.

  With the masque no longer hiding her, Elizabeth felt the boldness return. Scrapping her nails down his back, she bit his shoulder and felt him shudder and lose his rhythm. Power surged through her and Elizabeth dug her nails into his buttocks.

  He moved faster within her, each thrust harder than the last and she reveled in it. Wanted more. Her orgasm wound tighter through her, and Elizabeth ground her hips against his.

  Suddenly the wave broke and she climaxed. Pleasure swamped her, leaving her mindless in its wake. Callum continued to pound into her, and she willingly accepted him into her body. When he growled his own completion, Elizabeth held him to her, uncaring of his weight.

  Eyes closed, mind already drifting in sleep, she knew those reasons didn’t matter. She could name a dozen, more, as to why she should leave and disappear from his life once more. All were valid reasons, all meant to protect him as best she could.

  Kissing his shoulder, she vaguely felt him pull out of her and roll them over. She settled her head comfortably on his chest. Where she belonged. He’d searched for her no matter what, had never given up on her. On them.

  Tired of running, of hiding, of the constant pain being separated from him caused, Elizabeth desperately wanted it to end. She wanted to be with him again but was unsure she wouldn’t hurt him by doing so. She let herself slip into sleep, enclosed in his arms. She didn’t want to leave him again. How would she survive this time without him?

  But
she didn’t know how they could survive society’s judgments.

  Chapter Eleven

  Callum kept his eyes closed and pulled Elizabeth closer. He refused to risk letting her go again, afraid if he did, even in their bed, she’d disappear. He couldn’t bear it if she vanished from his life again. Vanished not because she didn’t love him, but because she loved him too much, and wanted to protect him and his damned reputation.

  How could he convince her that none of that mattered to him? Hell, he’d be more than happy spending the rest of his life with her in the country, far from the gossiping biddies and prying eyes of society.

  Elizabeth stirred then, and Callum wondered about her reaction to their night. He wasn’t a fool and knew she planned for this to be their final time together.

  “Good morning,” he whispered.

  She turned and offered him a loving smile, the violet of her eyes soft as she looked at him. It lasted only a moment, this intimate moment, before she realized the situation. Callum saw the changes immediately; he knew her so well even after all this time.

  “I shouldn’t have stayed,” she said and shifted away.

  Callum let her do so and sat up. “You wanted to stay,” he pointed out as evenly as he could. “I wanted you to stay.”

  Elizabeth looked over her shoulder at him, her eyes more hazel now than violet. She didn’t answer and climbed out of bed. Quickly slipping her chemise over her head, Elizabeth shook out her gown and turned back to him.

  “But I shouldn’t have,” she said and jerked her arms through the gown’s sleeves.

  He silently watched her as he, too, got out of bed and dressed. Callum waited her out, this wasn’t easy for her, and he knew that. She’d obviously been through much this last year, the scars on her face attested to physical as well as emotional hardships. He wanted to ask her about them, about everything she’d endured, but now certainly wasn’t the time.

  “What are we going to do?” she demanded testily. “Marry? So you can be forever known as the traitor’s husband?”

  It wasn’t difficult to miss the sarcasm in her words, but he gave her a moment before answering. His own temper snapped, but Callum measured his words as he stalked the few steps between them.

  “You are not your father,” he said shortly. “And he was proved to have no guilt.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” she insisted, eyes flashing with anger. “It will never go away. The gossips will always talk about this and will drag your name through the gutters for associating with me.”

  Unable to help himself, Callum took her shoulders and hoped she saw beyond this moment. There had to be a way to make her understand, but try as he might the words to do so escaped him. Elizabeth cupped his cheek, eyes softening.

  “I don’t want that for you,” she said. Her fingers were light on his cheek, almost insubstantial and Callum knew he was losing her. “Callum, I want you to have a life free of scandal, to have the respect you deserve as the Earl of Aycliff. With me by your side in any manner—”

  “Stop.” He snapped the word and she started. “You’re wrong, Elizabeth. I am the earl and I will command respect for myself and my wife. You are not to assume that we’ll be ostracized from society, because we will not. And if we are?”

  Callum shrugged and pulled her closer. Her eyes were softening again, but he didn’t know if it was in goodbye or in acceptance of his arguments. “And if we are, then the only thing that will matter is that I have you.”

  “You’ll grow to resent me,” Elizabeth whispered. She shook her head, fingers curling over his cheek but she didn’t step out of his embrace.

  “Never.” Callum shook her lightly and cupped her chin. “Come home with me now. I won’t have you on the streets where I can’t find you.” His fingers brushed the left side of her face and the jagged scars marring her soft skin. “Where someone can harm you.”

  He watched anguish flash in her eyes and wondered what happened to cause her such pain. Elizabeth shook her head, freeing her face from his grip. She looked around the room as if judging it.

  “I can stay here,” she said, gesturing to the opulent space. “Where no one has to see me and no one will know.”

  These final words snapped the thread holding his control. Callum slowly walked her backwards to the tapestry-covered wall. He needed a moment to carefully select his next words—ordering her wouldn’t work, nor would yelling. In fact, he wasn’t entirely certain reason would work on Elizabeth.

  “I will not,” he growled, pressing his hands to the wall on either side of her, “cheapen you in such a matter. I won’t reduce you to a common whore.”

  “Don’t you understand, Callum?” she yelled, pushing his chest not to free herself, he saw, but in anger. “They’ll view me as a common whore and will whisper about the time I’ve been missing.”

  “I. Don’t. Care.” Callum said, spacing the words evenly. Every bit of love he felt for her echoed in his words. “My life is not run by others. You are my choice and forever will be. I won’t marry if the woman is not you.”

  His words shocked her; he could see it evident on her face. She leaned against the wall and closed her eyes, shaking her head. Elizabeth didn’t say anything for a moment, and Callum tenderly raised her chin.

  “Come home with me,” he whispered against her lips.

  She opened her mouth to reply, but no words emerged. Instead she nodded, a tear slipping down her cheek. Callum gathered her into his arms and held her close.

  ****

  The sun shone brightly as they exited the carriage, and Elizabeth cursed the unnaturally bright spring day. Part of her wanted to hide from the world, slip into Callum’s house unnoticed and…and what? Refusing to hide, to cower in the shadows, Elizabeth held her head high as Callum escorted her into his townhouse.

  She’d been here so many times in the past, always welcomed by the servants, and yet tonight, as the butler ushered them inside, Elizabeth felt awkward. Stark didn’t so much as do a double take when Callum handed her inside, but bowed deeply and carefully took her cloak.

  Nerves danced along her skin, and she swallowed convulsively. She felt ridiculous, being treated as if nothing had happened—as if her reputation hadn’t been shredded, her face scarred. As if she hadn’t left Callum to face the scandal of a broken engagement to a traitor’s daughter.

  But the butler silently took her things with another reverent bow and looked to Callum.

  “Sir, Mr. John has returned,” he said and disappeared.

  Callum nodded and glanced into the front parlor. But his smile was solely for her and when his hand cupped her face, there was no pretense. He kissed her, and the only emotion Elizabeth felt then was need and love.

  “I need to meet with them,” he told her. “I shan’t be long. Wait for me upstairs, love.”

  Elizabeth, wondering who this Mr. John was and what business Callum had with him, turned for the stairs. Halfway up the flight, she stopped and turned back around. Callum had already disappeared into the front parlor and left the door open. She walked across the foyer and stood just to one side of the opened doorway, not really hiding but not making her presence known, either.

  “Have you found him?” Callum demanded.

  “We have, indeed,” John replied. He sounded slightly more cultured than Elizabeth had expected. Not that she knew what she expected, but with an introduction like Mr. John, it wasn’t the voice that drifted from the parlor. Listening carefully, she inched closer. “Dervin’s hiding in the back of Topper’s Gaming House. He pays street urchins to fetch his food and drink and has been there for several weeks.”

  Callum paced several steps, into her view then out again. “Good,” he muttered, “good.” His voice drifted to her, and Elizabeth moved closer, fingers curling around the doorframe. “I want him arrested.”

  This last year served her well in one respect at least—Elizabeth had mastered her emotions. No longer did she instinctually speak out; no longer did she let sentiment lead h
er. Rather, she slipped a step further into the shadows and listened.

  Her heart pounded in her ears and she wanted to insist to Callum that Dervin die. She wanted that man dead for all he’d done to her and her family. Swallowing against the anger, Elizabeth shook her head and listened to the rest of the conversation.

  “Get the Bow Street Runners,” Callum instructed, “whatever additional men you need, I care not. But have Dervin arrested tonight.”

  John said something more, an agreement Elizabeth didn’t quite catch and left. She pressed herself against the wall as he walked across the foyer, but honestly didn’t care if he saw her or not. Stepping into the light of the foyer, she waited.

  “You should have had them kill Dervin,” she told Callum the moment he exited the parlor.

  Callum looked up and stopped. He took a step closer to her, glancing from where she stood to the open parlor door. “You heard.”

  It wasn’t a question, but she nodded anyway. “He’s dangerous, Callum, and he’s slippery.”

  “It’s best if he’s hanged in public for all to see what he did to your father,” Callum said. Suddenly he stood before her, and Elizabeth could feel the determined fury coming off him.

  “He’s tried to kill you—or have you killed,” she told him, furious he once again put himself in danger.

  Suddenly he changed, no longer the forceful man with enough determination to track down the true perpetrators of the crimes her father had been hanged for. In its place was anger…and fear.

  “How do you know?” he demanded. His words held harshness and ruthlessness, and Callum took her by the shoulders again. “How do you know?”

  “You don’t know me anymore, Callum,” Elizabeth said softly. “I’ve done things that no woman who’s to be your wife should.”

  “Whatever you’ve done,” he said, pulling her close. “Only proves you’re exactly who I want for a wife.”

  Elizabeth shook her head, in protest and amusement. She couldn’t help the laugh that escaped, and leaned up to kiss him. Fury over Dervin still beat within her, but Callum always had a way about him. Time had not diminished its effect on her.