His hand still lay on the table where he had reached for her, and he carefully drew it back to rest in his lap. He toyed with his napkin as he gathered his thoughts.
“Eliza, I am sure you know what they call me in society.” He paused to look back up at her. She hadn’t moved, her eyes as piercing as they had been. She sat so still, like a rabbit sure she’d been spotted by a predator. He pressed on. “I earned the moniker the Jilted Duke because I was foolish enough once to believe myself in love with a woman who betrayed me. When it came time to see to the duty of the title, I created a plan that would save me from the embarrassment I had suffered previously.” Now he did lift his gaze and met hers full on. “I sought a wife of unfortunate appearance, so I would not be in danger of falling in love with her.”
She didn’t so much as blink as he repeated the words she’d accidentally overheard the previous night. He waited, giving her the opportunity to speak, but she did not. He thought her lip trembled ever so slightly, but it firmed again, and he wondered if it had only been a trick of the candlelight.
He went to speak again but stopped. For a moment that night so many years ago came back to him, and he thought he could not tell her everything. How could he risk being so vulnerable again?
“Go on.” The words were soft, the Eliza he knew seeping through once more.
It bolstered him, and he made the decision quickly. “I was wrong in selecting you, Eliza. I had not accounted for your wit and charm. I find both immensely enjoyable.”
He had hoped his words would soothe her, but she didn’t move. She might have turned to stone for all he could tell.
“I find how you treat the staff commendable and surprising. Not many members of the ton treat servants with such respect.” He thought of waking to Carver’s timid tray of coffee and toast that morning. “You seem to have won over the staff of Ashbourne House rather quickly. I believe those here won’t take long to fall under your spell either.”
Silence fell again as they studied one another.
Finally, she said the words he dreaded.
“I don’t believe you.”
They cut as he’d expected they would, but he accepted them for the truth they were.
“I didn’t expect you to.” He wasn’t about to stop being honest with her now. “I had hoped you would give me time to regain your trust.”
She watched him, but she didn’t speak again.
“I want to show you the ocean, Eliza. I want to teach you how to swim. I want to take you into the village and show you the sweets shop I visited when I was a boy and where the shopkeeper would sneak me lemon drops when my mother wasn’t looking.” Was there a softening about her jaw? He couldn’t believe it, but he desperately wanted to. “I don’t deserve a second chance from you. I didn’t deserve a first chance. But I’m begging you now. Please take pity on me and give me one more chance.”
He couldn’t begin to understand what might be going through her mind just then. From birth, he had been revered as the future duke, and then once assuming the title, he’d been showered with praise and opportunity. Eliza, meanwhile, had been fed a steady stream of disapproval. Why should she believe him now?
“I must understand something first. Our agreement will still hold, yes?”
He studied her face, delved into her gaze. Why was it so important that he get her with child? She was adamant about it, and yet, he couldn’t quite grasp why.
“Yes, of course,” he answered quickly. “I shall never go back on my word.”
She continued to watch him, warily now, and practicality took over for emotion. He nudged her plate.
“I know you did not sleep well last night, and you need sustenance. Please eat. Cook really is a master at gravies.”
She reached up a tentative hand to grasp her fork again, and this time she speared a piece of hen and brought it to her mouth. She made no sign she enjoyed it, but she took another bite and another. Carefully, he picked up his own fork and resumed eating.
Henry’s snores filled the silence between them as the dog had collapsed next to his empty dish, rolled on his back to stick his paws happily in the air.
Next he looked up she had cleared her plate and was replacing her napkin in her lap. She met his gaze directly.
“Thank you,” she said.
He raised an eyebrow.
“For bringing up the tray. That was considerate of you.”
He realized a truce hung between them. A shaky, fragile one it might be, but it was still a truce, and he would do everything he could to make the most of it.
The clock on the mantel chimed the hour.
“It’s quite late,” he said, and the sentence hung between them.
He was really asking if she wanted him to stay.
God, he wanted to stay. He wanted a chance to right the wrongs he had committed on their wedding night. He wanted the chance to show her how desirable she was. To prove to her she was worthy.
Worthy of what though?
He swallowed, realizing he’d come so close to admitting he was falling in love with her.
“It is.” She pushed back her chair, set her napkin aside. She looked directly at him. “Will you help me extinguish the candles?”
Her lips were soft, and her gaze knowing. She was asking him to stay.
“Yes, of course,” he said and got to his feet.
Chapter 9
She had promised to give him a second chance, but just because her mind agreed to something did not mean her body listened to it. She shed her dressing gown and slipped between the covers of the opulent bed while his back was turned, extinguishing the last of the candles along the mantel.
The fire still crackled, and it cast a yellow glow about the room, softening edges and muting colors.
“Oh.” She hadn’t meant to make a noise, but she suddenly sank in the divine heaven of the mattress.
Ashbourne whirled as if she’d startled him, but a smile soon came to his lips.
“The mattresses are made here. They’re quite luxurious, are they not?”
For the first time, she realized she was in danger of immediately falling asleep. Her body ached from the journey, and the large meal and warm bath had only helped increase her sense of fatigue. But she couldn’t fall asleep. They had an agreement, and she expected them both to comply.
Safely under the bedclothes, she could look her fill of her husband and his undressed state as much as she pleased for she was fairly certain he couldn’t make out her features in the near darkness now.
He had entered her room in nothing but trousers and a shirt. Even his feet were bare. She could see his toes, and she’d never found toes so enticing. He gave Henry a scratch before heading in her direction, and the dog did nothing more than fumble a snore.
“What is it that you fed him?”
He stopped short of the bed at her question.
“The stable lad’s father keeps the hounds for the Earl of Dobbin across the way. He swears by feeding the hounds the purest of food, so only meat straight from a fresh kill.” He pointed at Henry’s sleeping form. “The dog, I fear, ate better than we did this evening.”
“You mean it’s given to them uncooked?”
He perched on the bed still fully clothed. “It is. I can’t say I would enjoy it, but Henry didn’t seem to mind.”
“Fascinating. Do you think perhaps I could meet the stable boy’s father?”
Ashbourne laughed softly, but it was a warm sound, not a teasing one, as if he’d found her delightful. “I can see to that if you’d like.”
“I would enjoy that very much.”
The crackle of the fire was the only sound for several seconds, and then she felt Ashbourne’s gaze on her. She moved her attention from Henry to her husband.
He studied her carefully, and she wanted to squirm under his attention.
While he’d explained what he had meant when speaking with the Duke of Waverly the previous night, it still did not assuage her fears. She had been s
peaking the truth when she said she didn’t believe him. How could she when what she had overheard was precisely what she’d been hearing from so many of the ton for so long?
Except he’d been honest with her when the laws of marriage required he needn’t be. That coupled with everything else he had done for her left her wondering.
“Our agreement suggests there should be far fewer clothes between us.”
His voice had turned deep and coaxing, and unbidden, a heat coiled low in her stomach.
“Yes, of course.” She swallowed. “I can close my eyes to give you privacy until you are beneath the bedclothes.”
She had nearly shut her eyes when his words stopped her.
“You don’t want to watch?”
She was watching now but not because of any sort of conscious effort.
“Watch?”
His smile was warm, teasing. “I’ve heard some women enjoy such things.”
She thought of his toes and licked her lips.
“I don’t think that will be necessary.” Except she didn’t close her eyes.
“Are you certain?” His fingers began to undo the buttons of his shirt, one solitary button at time.
She watched his fingers, mesmerized.
“Yes, yes, I’m quite certain.”
With each button he revealed an inch of warm, enticing skin. Before long the smoothness of his collarbones was replaced with a dark mat of hair she had not anticipated. She may have lain with this man once before, but she remembered hardly any of it. It had been so brief and disappointing.
But now she watched as each button slipped free, revealing her husband in his entirety. She had expected broad shoulders, but she hadn’t expected the scar that ran the length of his right one. She’d expected sculpted muscle as she’d felt it beneath the contour of his jacket when they danced, but she hadn’t expected the way his hips would taper and narrow until they slipped into the confines of his trousers.
His fingers went there now, deftly undoing the buttons, and she must have whimpered or made a sound because he stopped and met her gaze. She snapped her eyes shut but not because he’d caught her looking, but because she feared she couldn’t take anymore.
She waited for the telltale dip of the bed, the rustle of bedclothes, but it never came.
When sound finally emerged it was his voice, and it was all too close.
“Eliza.” He breathed her name, and her eyes flew open.
He’d moved to the side of the bed where she huddled, the bedclothes clutched at her chest. He leaned over her, large and looming, but he didn’t touch her anywhere. Yet she could feel his heat, anticipate what it was like to feel his weight atop her.
He sat carefully on the bed as if he were afraid of hurting her, and when he leaned forward, he captured her between his arms as he rested against the bed on his outstretched arms.
“Eliza, I want to make this better for you, but I need you to tell me what you like and what you find unpleasant. Can you do that?”
She nodded because she couldn’t speak. She was overwhelmed by a feeling of safety when he leaned over her like that, as if she were cocooned and protected within his arms.
He shifted on to one hand, drawing his other up to run a single finger down her cheek.
“Now I seem to recall you enjoyed kissing. Is that true?”
Again, she nodded, transfixed by the darkness of his eyes.
His finger stopped just under her chin, and he tilted her head up just a little before he captured her lips in a gentle, coaxing kiss. Her head came off the pillow following the taste of him, and he laughed softly against her lips.
“I guess you do enjoy that,” he said, never breaking the kiss.
She didn’t know what to do with her hands, but she very much wanted to touch him. She wrenched away instead, gasping for air.
“I’d like to touch you.” She hadn’t meant to say that, but, well… “The last time I touched you, you appeared not to like it. Can you tell me what I did wrong so I may try to be better?”
His eyes clouded over at her words, and she feared she’d made another mistake.
“I’m sorry. Please. You mustn’t. I can just lie here and be quiet.” She rushed the words one after the other should he have time to regret fulfilling their bargain.
Her grip on the bedclothes became lethal, and she tried to sink back into the pillows as far as they’d let her.
He released a sigh and leaning forward, gently set his forehead against hers.
She’d done something wrong again.
She dared not breathe let alone move, and she waited for him to get up and leave. Fear rattled her more than humiliation. She couldn’t be the reason she remained childless. She just couldn’t.
“Dax.” She said his name as if it might be the last thing she ever spoke.
He stilled above her, and she swore she could feel his heartbeat vibrating through her. The tension was palpable between them, and her chest tightened in despair.
Please don’t leave.
“We’re going to try something else.” He stood so quickly the bed bounced, and she scrambled to keep herself together.
A pillow fell on her head, and she shoved it away. The bed moved again, and this time her husband had slipped between the covers. She expected him to stop on the opposite side of the bed as he had done previously, but this time he didn’t. He slid directly over to her and without stopping, gathered her into his arms. Her cheek met the solid wall of muscle that was his chest as his arms closed around her. One hand kept her firmly pressed against him while the other speared her hair, drawing her even closer.
And it felt magnificent.
She’d never been held this way by anyone, never cradled so completely. She could almost believe he didn’t mind holding her so. His heart beat beneath her cheek, and the rise and fall of his chest was hypnotic. She slipped one hand out, unable to resist touching him, and found his skin hot to the touch.
“Eliza, I think it would be best if you understood it would take a great deal of effort on your part to do something wrong in this situation.”
His fingers massaged the back of her head, and once more, sleep threatened her.
“It would?” she whispered.
Absently, her fingers began to explore, traipsing through the mat of chest hair to find each individual rib.
“It would.” His voice wasn’t so certain now, and she lifted her head to peer at his profile.
He was just as gorgeous from this angle as any other. She ran her hand lower, found the dip of his stomach and the bones of his hips until her fingers collided with the waist of his trousers.
“You’re still clothed.” She didn’t know why this bothered her, but it did.
“So are you,” he returned.
That was the truth.
“Should I not be?” She’d never before been this bold in her life, but curiosity appeared to outweigh her insecurities.
He groaned. “No, you should not, but I won’t make you do anything you’re not ready for.”
She pulled away from him and before she could think of it further wriggled out of her nightdress. Her back was to him as she tossed the garment aside, so it wasn’t as if he saw anything but her bare back and even then, her long hair tumbled down the length of it.
Her arms automatically went to cover herself, but she wanted to take in his expression. Before she could finish turning, he sat up, gripping her shoulders, and holding her in place.
“Don’t.”
Just one word, spoken so deeply, so gutturally, it arrested her completely.
Her hands lay folded against her chest, and she stared at the glowing outline of the fire as his hands traced her shoulders, the line of her back. Her body tightened in places she didn’t know were possible, and she bit her lip to keep back a whimper.
“Oh God, Eliza.” He said each word with reverence. “I’ve thought of this for so long.”
She blinked, her attention coming into sharp focus.
He’d thought of this? He thought of…her…like this?
His hands were in her hair again, lifting it from her shoulder to replace it with his lips. Now she did whimper as he seared kisses along the curve of her shoulder, the expanse of her neck.
“Dax.”
The tension coiled hotter within her, and she knew something must be happening. Something must happen.
He shifted against her, one arm coming up, his hand exploring. She cowered, realizing he’d discover just how inadequate she was. But when his hand closed over her breast, he buried a deep groan into the side of her neck.
Her lady parts clenched.
Heavens, what was he doing to her?
She looked down at his hand, mesmerized by the way it toyed with her nipple, rolling it so expertly between his fingers. She moaned, grabbing Dax’s hand and pinning it against her.
“Dax, I feel—”
But she couldn’t finish the sentence. She didn’t know what she felt, only that it was growing, and soon it would be unbearable.
“I know,” he growled and turned her, capturing her lips in a kiss that sent fire through her belly.
Oh God, she was going to explode. She lost his hand somewhere as he spun her back on the mattress, his weight deliciously crushing her into the mattress. Her nipples tensed at the friction his chest hair caused as he moved along her body, and she bucked, arching her chest into him for more.
“Dax.” It was the only word she could manage because she didn’t know how to tell him…tell him that she liked…this.
His mouth burned a line of kisses along her jaw, down her throat, nipping at her collarbone. She bucked again, her hips driving into him, and she felt…everything. He was hard against her, and a thrill shot through her, knowing she had done that to him.
He continued his journey down her body, kissing, licking, biting, until she couldn’t bear it anymore. She fisted her hands in his hair, trying to hold him in place, but he only laughed against the softness of her belly, moving ever lower.
He was almost to that spot that ached, and she tried to close her legs, embarrassment flooding back. But he soothed her with a soft shushing noise and coaxed her legs back open with soft kisses along the inside of her thighs.
The Duke and the Wallflower Page 12