Their faces were almost touching as they danced, oblivious to any other people in the room. The vague notion that it might not be socially acceptable to explore Edward’s mouth with her tongue crossed Selina’s hazy mind, but there was nothing she could do to quell the burning she felt beneath her skin, or the desire for the man who held her so closely against him that blazed in her every sinew.
Etiquette be damned, Selina’s subconscious whispered as she felt her eyes drift closed and Edward’s lips finally meet her own, the heart-stopping culmination of all the hours she had spent dreaming of this very moment, hoping and yet fearing it would soon come to pass.
If their first kiss had been heated, this one was an inferno. Selina felt herself set ablaze with the burning desire to hold Edward against her, to feel the touch of his hands on her skin as his lips moved over hers and she opened her mouth to receive him.
His grip on her waist tightened further, forcing her as close to the heat of his body as it was possible to be, and his other hand moved to cradle the back of her head—which was just as well, for Selina’s bones seemed to have turned to water, and but for Edward’s unshakable arms she might have collapsed entirely.
Her own hands twined into the fabric of his coat, trying to pull him closer still, and the whole world seemed to dissolve in the riot of sensation Edward’s lips on hers were lighting up in every nerve in her trembling body.
Edward’s breathing was coming hard and fast as his hand snaked down from her waist to splay over the small of her back, pinning her to the front of his towering frame. He deepened the kiss. Selina heard herself gasp as his tongue danced with her own in a movement so unspeakably sensual she could almost have stopped breathing had she any thought to spare for such a trivial thing as that. Her arms tightened around him, locked in an embrace that sent sparks of pure desire to writhe within her stomach—
‘I say...is this really the place?’
Selina started violently at the sudden voice, too close to her for comfort. Eyes flying open, she saw an older gentleman looking at them with barely suppressed amusement, and stumbled backwards out of Edward’s hold. All the breath had left her body and she felt winded by the blistering fire that seemed to have replaced it in her lungs.
She blinked rapidly, trying to bully her brain back into action. ‘Oh, I—I—I’m most terribly sorry.’ Selina heard how breathlessly the words escaped her but had no power to make them sound stronger. ‘I don’t know—’
‘Sir William.’ Edward extended his hand and the other man shook it, a gleam of humour still clearly visible on his lined face.
If Selina hadn’t known better, she might have suspected Edward felt as stunned by the unexpected turn of events as she. His own breath seemed to be coming fast, reminding her of Djali’s after a long ride, and his cheeks were flushed with colour.
‘So good of you to invite us. May I introduce my wife, Mrs Selina Fulbrooke?’
‘Aha...’ Sir William looked at her closely, dawning understanding filtering into his expression. ‘Enchanted, I’m sure. A rare treat to meet such a beautiful lady. Madam...’ He bowed over her hand, lightly holding her fingertips in a cool grasp.
Selina nodded mutely and attempted a smile, although her heart still pounded from Edward’s touch and no words would come into her racing mind. Whatever must their host think of her, putting on such a shocking display? Edward was just as much to blame as herself, of course, but it was on her that every scandalised eye seemed to be fixed, and Selina’s blush deepened as she heard loud whispers about their brazen behaviour from more than one direction.
‘I’m so glad you and your lovely new bride could attend tonight. This is the first gathering I have had since your poor dear father left us, you know, and he is very sadly missed.’ Sir William didn’t seem to hear the muttering surrounding them as he sighed and patted Edward on the shoulder. ‘He would be pleased, I think, that you came to honour us with your company. And I hope you won’t think me too forward when I say you have grown into a fine young man, most worthy of your new position as Squire.’
‘Thank you, sir.’ There was a touch of something like emotion in Edward’s voice, and Selina had to restrain herself from reaching out to touch him.
Sir William glanced about him and lowered his voice conspiratorially. ‘You know, I never agreed with that condition old Ambrose included in his will, and I told him so. You’re a grown man with a sensible head on your shoulders; you can be trusted to make your own way.’ He nodded reassuringly. ‘I’ll be willing to say the same to your uncle when he arrives here, too, should that be necessary.’
A shard of ice shattered the warmth that mere moments before had burned in Selina’s chest, slicing through to chill her to the bone.
What does he mean—when he arrives here?
Her eyes flew to Edward’s face, and she saw his brows drawn tightly together in confusion.
‘My uncle, sir?’
‘Your Uncle Charles—has he not written to you of his forthcoming visit?’ The older man was at once unsure, hesitant. ‘I received a letter just last week, stating his intention to return to Blackwell and help you run the estate. Perhaps I was not to mention it...?’
‘Indeed, I have received no such letter.’ Edward’s voice was quiet suddenly, seeming to come from far away. ‘Did my uncle mention when he is intending to visit?’
Selina barely heard him speak, lost in the cold grip of dread that had begun to squeeze her in its fist.
‘Within the month, as I understand it.’
Within the month. That could be any day...with no warning.
Selina backed away a little, narrowly avoiding a collision with another pair of dancers. Her head swam with sudden nausea and her hands felt clammy with horror, fear choking the air from her lungs.
Charles Fulbrooke, Mama’s killer, is coming back to Blackwell.
It was every one of her worst nightmares come true, and panic rose up within her like an unstoppable flood. The room seemed as though it was spinning, and suddenly she could no longer breathe.
‘I feel a little warm. Please excuse me while I go to take some air.’ She managed to force out the words, only dimly aware of how raspy they sounded issuing from her dry mouth.
She felt Edward’s eyes on her as she retreated through the crowd, but she knew better than to look back over her shoulder. He would see the blank terror on her pallid face.
Selina quickened her step on unsteady feet as she left the ballroom and tottered out into the hall. The light of the candles was suddenly too bright, throwing her into blind confusion as she fought her way towards the front door, dumb and unresponsive with images of unspeakable horror tumbling through her mind. The music that issued from the ballroom was suddenly too loud, and the press of bodies claustrophobic. And had it always been so hot?
A woman nearby laughed—a shrill, whinnying sound that made Selina shudder—and a gentleman’s speculative look at her as he passed by made her skin crawl. She had to get out. She had to get out.
It was as though a dam had given way inside her—one that had been shielding her from the worst of her recollections. All the fear and disgust she had been struggling to quell since hearing Charles’s name now threatened to pour forth, and image after image of the reason for her revulsion flickered through her mind in unstoppable cruelty. The man responsible for her pain would soon be closer to her than he had been in twelve years, and the memories spun faster.
She was surrounded. Gentry stood close on every side, and suddenly she couldn’t bear it.
Selina knew she would have to fight to push her way through the crowds that thronged Sir William’s Great Hall, but even the idea of touching them made her stomach turn. Perhaps she ought to go back to Edward, she thought as she felt her throat begin to close with anxiety and a fresh wave of nausea wash over her. He would surely escort her outside, help to guide her past the people who
now sickened her with every glance.
But then Zillah’s words echoed through her mind, mingling with the fear that squeezed her in its iron grip. A marriage of convenience and nothing more.
Selina’s mind stubbornly replayed the image of his face, growing closer to her own as they danced, the look in his eye, determined yet tender, as he closed the distance between them and his lips sought her own. Edward was better than that, and her faith in him would not be so easily shaken.
And yet... Selina’s shoulders slumped as the cold sting of reality turned her blood to ice. Charles was Edward’s kin—almost the only relative left to him. Hadn’t she seen the glint of sadness in his eye when he’d talked about his father and sensed that, despite all their differences, Edward regretted the late Squire’s early passing?
Charles was Ambrose’s brother, despite his cruel acts, and tied to Edward by blood. Surely he would rather his uncle returned than hear Selina’s tale of woe yet again. The tale of a wife he had taken only for their mutual advantage. After the death of his father Edward must want to draw nearer to the family he had left. Of course he regretted his uncle’s behaviour, but wasn’t blood thicker than water? Especially if that water had only been married out of cold necessity?
Shame, fear and regret washed over her, tumbling her in the maelstrom they created within her. She was tossed by the waves of her unhappiness, and supremely conscious of it being all her own doing.
A man you cannot hope to have.
Those had been Zillah’s words—and they had been entirely right. Edward would never return her feelings now, despite the precious gift he had given her and the breathtaking passion of his kiss—not now Charles was returning to Blackwell, to undermine her at every turn.
What poison he would whisper in Edward’s ear she didn’t yet know, but there could be no chance of the happy future she had so foolishly hoped for, despite her better judgement.
‘Ma’am? Ma’am, are you quite well?’
An elderly gentleman stood close to her, watching her breathless confusion with genuine alarm. His concern for her might have struck her as kind, once upon a time, but now all Selina desired was to be as far away as possible. With her heart hammering, and tears gathering at the corners of her eyes, she did the only thing she could think of to do.
Selina turned and ran.
Chapter Thirteen
‘Any sign of her?’
‘Not yet, sir.’
Edward cursed aloud as he scanned the frozen wasteland of the Beaumont estate that surrounded him and his coachman on all sides. Deep snowdrifts covered the ground in every direction as far as the eye could see, and Edward pulled his coat closer about his body, gritting his teeth as another blast of freezing air tried to wend its way beneath his clothes.
‘Mrs Fulbrooke is out here somewhere, without a cloak in this bitter cold. We must keep looking.’
‘Aye, sir.’
Edward lowered his head against the biting wind and ploughed onwards, sinking almost knee-deep into the snow. His breeches were soaked and he could feel the chill beginning to reach his bones. Each step was getting more and more difficult as the cold seeped into him and squeezed his chest in its icy grip.
Where the hell are you, Selina?
He brought a hand up to shield his eyes from the moonlit glare of snow all around him as he peered across the great expanse of white, searching for any clue as to the direction in which she must have travelled.
An elderly gentleman in Sir William’s hall had said he’d seen a woman matching Selina’s description bolt past him and out into the freezing night, without even so much as a cloak to warm her. Her flimsy ball gown would give her no protection at all against the unrelenting cold. If he didn’t find her soon, he shuddered to think what might become of her.
Edward tried to tamp down his rising panic. He thought back to her face, how it had looked when poor, well-meaning Sir William had given her the worst news she ever could have heard, and the picture made him grimace.
She looked like a hunted animal. I don’t know when I’ve ever seen a person look more afraid.
Of course she feared Uncle Charles returning to the estate. The death of her mama might have been a tragic accident, but Selina would always hold him responsible for what had happened, and Edward didn’t blame her. Charles Fulbrooke would stir memories within Selina she doubtless would have given anything to forget forever, and her horror at the news that she might risk seeing him again would have been too much to bear.
No wonder she had been spooked at the notion and had run into the night like a fox from a pack of hounds.
‘Sir! Over here!’
The coachman’s voice carried to Edward on the chill wind. Turning at once, he saw Greene crouching by a snow-laden hedge at the border of the field and stumbled towards him, his heart beating so fast it was almost painful. Whatever Greene was looking at was lying on the ground, and Edward felt a sharp twist of fear that they might be too late.
I’ll never forgive myself if—if—
He couldn’t bring himself to finish the thought as he reached a small shape stretched out in the snow, half covered by a soft sprinkle of white.
Selina’s face was pale in the moonlight, and frost sparkled on the tips of her long eyelashes. Her hair had come undone from its elaborate style and fanned out around her, a dark splash on the pristine white of the snow, and as Edward swiftly wrapped her in his own coat he felt her skin was as cold as death.
Her chest still rose and fell with quiet breaths, but they were slow and shallow, and as Edward gathered her into his arms and lifted her from the ground she made no sound, her eyes still closed as though in the deepest sleep.
Edward carried her towards his carriage in pained silence. She weighed little more than a child, and under any other circumstances he knew he would feel a thrill at holding her so closely against him. Instead, however, he felt only dread as he reached the carriage and climbed inside, still bearing her as if she was made of glass. He sank down onto the richly upholstered seat and gathered her into his lap, feeling the jolt as Greene geed up the horses and turned their heads for home.
My stubborn, headstrong Selina.
He looked down at her silent face, her lips blue and cheeks paler than he had ever seen them before.
Couldn’t she have waited? I would have taken her home myself. If she never wakes—
He swallowed—a painful convulsion of his burning throat. A complex mixture of despair and frustration churned inside him as he chafed at her hands, seeing how her fingers were blue at the tips.
Running off into the snow. Who would go running off into the snow without so much as a cloak—apart from Selina?
It was just his luck to have lost his heart to such a wild creature, he thought with grim acceptance. An upper-class woman would never have acted with such instinctive rashness. But it was her difference from those of his own class that had made him, despite his best efforts, her most devoted servant, and it was with worried eyes that he watched her unconscious face as the carriage swept him and his wife through the night, back to where Edward felt sure they both belonged.
He would have strong words with her when she awoke—if she awoke. The prospect of her never again opening her dark eyes was enough to twist his insides so hard he could have cried out in pain. She had to wake up: the alternative was simply unthinkable.
* * *
The pillow beneath her head was soft, and Selina enjoyed the delicious sensation of waking slowly from a deep sleep for several long minutes before attempting to open her eyes. She had been having the most wonderful dreams, and was in no hurry for them to end, but she surfaced gradually, feeling their sweetness linger until her eyelids flickered open and a grim face swam into focus before her.
‘Edward?’
He was seated in a chair drawn up to the bedside, so close that the red coverlet she lay ben
eath touched his knees. But her own bed was always swathed in powder-blue, and Selina’s brow furrowed as she took in the decor of a room she had never seen before. A swift glance down showed she was wearing her nightgown, and a furious blush roared hotly up from her neck at the question of who had dressed her in it.
‘Where am I? What happened?’
There was no preamble to his anger.
‘Selina. What in seven hells were you about, running off by yourself into the snow without even a cloak to warm you?’
Selina attempted to sit upright in the bed, but Edward checked her with one strong hand.
‘Don’t try to get up. The doctor said that when you awoke you would need to rest.’
‘The doctor? Why has he been here? I am quite well.’
‘Quite well! Are you indeed, madam?’ Edward’s eyebrows were raised so high they were almost lost in the flax of his hair. ‘You must forgive me if the evidence to the contrary was quite compelling!’
Flames danced in the grate of a grand fireplace not far from where she lay, their light hurting Selina’s eyes. A slight ache was beginning to niggle at the back of her head, and she sighed at Edward’s angry words. What she wouldn’t give to be allowed to drift back into the dreamland she had so recently visited, where she and Edward had existed in perfect harmony without his furious voice ringing in her ears.
She remembered now, as she took in the set of his expression, why she had been trudging through the snow. A sudden weight settled beneath her ribs and she attempted once again to sit up. Once again, however, she was stopped by a large hand.
She pressed her own hand to her chest, feeling the place where that knot now lay heavy over her heart. ‘I’m sorry, Edward. I just—I had to get out. If I gave you cause to be worried—’
‘Worried?’ Edward stood up from the bed and paced the floor in front of the fire, the flames casting shadows on his hair as he moved. ‘Do you have any idea what passed through my mind when I found you lying on the ground, covered in frost and with your lips completely blue? You didn’t move for the entire journey home. I didn’t know if each breath would be your last!’
The Marriage Rescue Page 19
