by Lisa Campell
The kiss deepened. They had been apart for nearly a week. The familiar pangs of arousal awoke within her. Her hands, palms flat, smoothed across the hard expanse of his chest. His hand cupped her breast, his thumb teasing her nipple through the fabric of her dress. She moaned against his lips.
She pulled away, lacing her fingers into his. When her eyes met his, he looked sad, his eyes soft.
“Will you come with me to bed, husband?” she asked.
A small smile came to his lips. “Yes, darling wife,” he replied.
Eliza led Sebastian up to their bed chamber, where they closed the door behind them. They slowly shed their clothes in the fading light through the curtains. They were both in shadow, but she could still see him.
The sight of his familiar body awakened the fire that lay just beneath her skin. She bit her lip, pleasant anticipation causing her to warm. He reached for her, pulling her to him. The heat of his body, and its hard muscle against her body felt like coming home.
She led him over to the bed, where she lay down. He was over her in moments, his body moving with leonine grace. He made love to her passionately, his forehead pressed to hers. She could feel her own pleasure as it mounted.
They both breathed in time, his hips moving with urgency. Their eyes remained locked. It was more than just a physical act; it was a joining of their two souls. She wrapped her arms around his body, holding him close. This was the gentleman who she had fallen in love with when she was no more than a child.
Her love for him was all-encompassing. She wished that she could take away his hurt, his fear. She knew that he wished the same for her. They came together. She cried out, her back arching. He moaned low. Eliza was wracked by waves of passion as tears slipped down her cheeks.
“Darling,” he murmured, softly. He wiped at her cheeks, leaning in and kissing her tears.
Afterward, they lay side by side, Sebastian’s arms wrapped around Eliza, who lay with her head on his chest. Near to her ear, she could hear the gentle, insistent beat of his heart. He placed his hand on her belly, which was still flat. She could feel his terror at the thought of what might happen. She wondered what was happening in his mind.
“What are you thinking?” she asked, gently caressing his cheek with the backs of her fingers.
“That I was wrong to leave you here,” he whispered. “I should have brought you with me.”
She looked up at him. “You were,” she agreed.
“I won’t do it again,” he promised. She pressed her lips to his. He seemed hollowed out. His outpouring of grief had been fierce.
She wished that the news of her pregnancy had been one of joy. It was not. It was tinged with fear of what might happen. She now knew herself what this child might face in life. She could only hope that things would turn out well.
But there was no promise of that. He kissed her tenderly on the lips.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “I know that it’s the one thing that you’ve been trying to keep from happening.”
“Don’t be, it’s not wholly your fault,” he replied. She could tell that his anger was directed inward, towards himself.
Eliza nodded, though tears were falling down her cheeks. She felt as though she’d cried more in the past few days than she’d ever cried in her entire life. Her face felt as raw and aching as her heart did.
“We will love this child,” he assured her, kissing her on the forehead. “No matter what happens.”
Chapter Twenty
Sebastian peered into the room, where Teresa sat in bed, a book open in her lap. Soft, natural light spilled in through the open window, lighting up the room. Only a month had passed since her miraculous recovery. Only the day before, Teresa had been moved to Campden Hall, and placed in her own bed chamber, where she had spent their childhood. He sat down, in the armchair next to her bed.
“Are you comfortable?” he asked her. They had taken a nun into their employ, so that she would be cared for by someone with medical training. The money she made would go straight to her order.
“Quite,” Teresa replied with a happy sigh. “It’s very good to be back home.” The two siblings smiled at one another.
“It’s good to have you home. If there’s anything you need, just let me know,” he assured her, ready to go and fetch it himself if necessary.
“Thank you, Lord Dain,” she replied. “I am quite comfortable, though. I have few needs, and Sister Agatha is as prompt as an army general.”
They both laughed. The nun took her job very seriously, ordering the butler and cook about to ensure that Teresa got her meals and her baths on a strict schedule that she had made. She was a force to be reckoned with, and Sebastian’s household staff was terrified of her already.
“Had I known that a nun could keep you in such a manner, I would have had you back here years ago,” he said. He couldn’t help but feel guilt, that she had been sent away to live alone in Monk Sherwood.
“You were young,” she replied. “You needed to settle down first.”
They sat in silence for a few moments. Sebastian wanted to apologize. He recalled the dark days, after first one and then the other of their parents had passed. Though Sebastian had been grieving, his sister had, too. When he looked at her, she was studying him closely. He wondered what she was thinking. “Is something the matter?” he asked.
“Eliza told me of your news,” Teresa said carefully. “She said that you weren’t happy about the baby. Though, she said that I should ask you why.”
His throat tightened, and when he tried to smile, it faltered. He sighed, taking his sister’s slim hand in his own. It was light, as though her bones were hollow, like a bird’s.
“For years, I kept myself apart. I tried to avoid falling in love, to the point where I even held Eliza at arm’s length for the first few months of our marriage,” he explained. “Almost to the point of cruelty.” He didn’t want to tell Teresa of his first almost child. He couldn’t bear to have her know his darkest secret. He couldn’t bear that she should know it.
“Why?” she asked, tilting her head to the side. Her gaze remained steady, unwavering.
She’s already guessed, he thought to himself.
“I wanted to keep from having any offspring of my own,” he explained. “So I could keep them from suffering what you have. I thought that I could break the cycle.”
Teresa glanced away from him for a moment, clearly crestfallen. Sebastian felt as though his heart had been struck by a dart.
“I appreciate that,” she replied at last, squeezing his hand. “Truly, I do. Do you think that I haven’t found any pleasure at all, here on this Earth?”
“Sometimes, it was hard to tell,” he admitted.
“I’ve valued my life, Seb. There has been suffering, yes. But I’ve had moments of joy, too,” Teresa said. “There are things that I have to be grateful for—I have a family who loves me, and there’s sunlight, coming through that window.” She gestured towards the window. “There are both small and large things, which bring me great joy, Seb.”
Sebastian had never thought of Teresa’s life in that way. He stared at her, suddenly seeing his sister and her tortured life in a different light. She seemed to have a glow about her. A quiet joy that he had never realized for himself. She gave his hand a gentle squeeze.
“No matter what fate befalls this child, they will have you to care for and love them,” she pointed out. “They won’t be placed in an asylum, where they will be forgotten about and left to suffer at the hands of people who mean them harm and not truly healing. They will be loved and cared for. That is not such a bad fate.”
Sebastian found tears, flowing down his cheeks. He sniffled. Teresa looked at him tenderly. “It is because you have cared for them, even before they took shape, that you are able to cry like that,” she commented. “That is a very good thing.”
Epilogue
Several Months Later
Eliza had never been in so much pain before. It felt a
lmost unendurable at times. Judith was there with her, of course, holding her hand, even while she moaned in pain. Judith was helping her pace, back and forth in her bed chamber.
In the fifteen hours that she’d been in labor, Eliza had sweated through her nightgown entirely. Her hair was loose, hanging over her shoulders. She felt utterly wretched, and she knew that it wasn’t even close to being over yet.
“Oh, darling,” Judith said, wiping at her face with a damp cloth. “You’re almost there.”
Eliza didn’t respond, only doubled over in pain as another round of contractions came on. She sank down onto the bed tiredly. There was a knock, at the door.
“Come in,” Judith called. Eliza just barely registered that the physician entered. They had her lie back on the mattress.
“It’s time,” the physician said. “She has to push.”
Judith nodded, holding Eliza’s hand, even as she screamed in pain. Eliza gritted her teeth, ready for her work to be done. The pain and the contractions seemed to go on and on. She felt like her mind was in a fog, and she was wandering over paths that went in circles.
And then, finally she gave one last push. Moments later, her squalling son was placed onto her chest. She placed her arms around him, watching as he went from blue to very, very pink. His little mouth was open, clearly displeased to be out in the world.
“Oh,” she gasped, looking down into his red face, holding his tiny red hand in hers and counting the tiny fingers. “He’s so perfect.” She had never felt such pure, fierce love before. The physician left, taking out the after birth.
Judith beamed down at her, smoothing a hand tenderly over her hair. “You did so well, my dear. I’ll go and let Seb and Matthew know.” She left the room, closing the door softly after her.
Eliza laughed to herself. She was exhausted. She had never been so tired in her entire life. Her son had a cap of black hair on his tiny head. His small eyes were closed tightly. He was beginning to quiet down, whimpering softly.
The door opened, and Seb entered, looking for all the world, terrified. His cravat was loosened, his collar rumpled and his shirt untucked. She could tell that he had been worried for her, likely pacing the parlor like a caged tiger. His hair was mussed, from running his fingers through his hair nervously.
“I heard the news,” Sebastian said, remaining in the doorway. Eliza smiled at him. She was so blissfully happy. Here were the two gentlemen that she loved best—in one room. Suddenly, the world seemed to fall into place.
“Come meet your son,” she told him, sitting up, holding the baby close to her in the crook of her arm. He made a soft whimpering sound, but then was quiet. He had been swaddled in a blanket.
Sebastian entered, crossing the room to come and sit on the bed. Eliza looked up nervously into her husband’s face. He was staring down at him, his lips a grim line.
“Here, hold him,” she said, holding the baby out to him, like an offering. He opened his arms, and accepted their son.
He sniffled, then let out a heart-wrenching sob as he sat down on the bed beside her, looking down at the baby in his arms.
“What is it, Seb?” she asked, nervously, placing a hand on his arm. She had only seen him cry that once—on the day that she had told him that she was pregnant. She was frightened that, in that moment, he had changed his mind.
“I love him so much, Eliza,” he burst out. “I love him and I love you, so much it hurts.”
Eliza felt much the same way, and her vision blurred with tears of her own. She smiled as she watched them—her husband, crying as he held their child. She was filled with an overwhelming sense of love for both them.
“I thought that I’d feel guilty,” Sebastian told her, clearing his throat. “But I love him. Just like Teresa said that I would.”
“Do you regret it?” Eliza asked, fear striking her heart. She loved them both, and she couldn’t imagine what she would do if Sebastian wanted to go away from them out of guilt.
“No.” He reached out, taking her hand, while cradling their son to his chest with his other. “Whatever happens, he will be loved and cared for.”
Eliza beamed, happily. She didn’t know what would happen, in the years to come. There would always be that fear, looming over them. But she was going to enjoy the moments like this one, that were happy. She wasn’t for a second going to take them for granted.
Extended Epilogue
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Afterword
Thank you for reading my novel, Beauty and the Beastly Marquess. I really hope you enjoyed it! If you did, could you please be so kind to write a review HERE?
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Do you want more Romance?
If you’re a true fan of the Regency Romance genre, here is a sample of my best friend’s, Ella Edon, latest best-selling novel: The Marchioness’ Buried Secret
This is the tale of Emma Thorton, a conflicted lady who will need the affection of a true gentleman, in order to make the right choices in her life and enjoy a bright future with him...
The Marchioness’ Buried Secret
Prologue
Dunberry Village, England 1803
“Just because you’re a Marquess doesn’t mean you can lord over everyone, Henry!”
Lady Emma Thornton huffed her way through the freshly fallen snow, her walking boots not doing their job keeping her feet warm. She was tired, cold, and irritated.
While normally she loved these trips into the village when her family visited the Duke of Drysdale, being stuck with Henry Blackmoor, the Duke’s first-born son, and the newly titled Marquess of Dunberry, was always a bore.
“Actually, Lady Emma, being a Marquess means I can lord over everyone,” he replied, pushing his spectacles, which kept falling, to a more balanced spot on the bridge of his nose. The spectacles, to Emma, looked too large for him. “Plus, one day these people will be my tenants. When I am the Duke they will have to see me as a leader. I should be the one to decide how we deliver the gifts.”
He was so arrogant, Emma could not help but roll her eyes. He may have been four years older than her at sixteen, and he may have been getting a full education at Eton, but that was only because he was more privileged. It certainly didn’t mean he was smarter, not in the least. She was not going to allow him to intimidate her. Being a Marquess was only a courtesy title after all. All sons of Dukes had them. If Henry had a little brother, he would know that. Plus, he wasn’t the Duke, yet. Therefore, as far as Emma was concerned they were on equal footing.
When the day finally came that he would be the Duke, hopefully, she would be long gone from the county and in London, being a Seasonal smash.
Emma had her life all planned out. She would come out at eighteen, like her mother and older sister Maryann before her. She would receive her invitation to Almack’s, be a smashing success and make an excellent match. She would probably marry after her second Season, most likely to an Earl, like her father. She would host the best balls and assemblies in town, and be mother to at least three children, two lads and a lass. After she secured an heir, and a spare, for her husband, she would spend her days doing charitable work.
Emma loved reading and learning, above all else, and she could not wait to be a true Lady of influence so that she would have the resources to help women of all social classes learn to read and enjoy books as she did. But, most importantly, she would be far, far away from Henry Blackmoor.
Emma grew up differently than other girls of her station. Other girls were expected to be accomplished, seen, but never heard. Emma was not forced to learn things that held no interest to her. She was fr
ee to search out her own interests. Of course, she was expected to be accomplished in an effort to secure a good match, but spending endless hours embroidering handkerchiefs and pillowcases was not part of that plan. Her parents, the Lord and Lady of Elesmere had always encouraged Emma to find her own path, to ask questions, speak her mind, and learn only those subjects that intrigued her.
It was that exact encouragement that fueled her now in challenging Henry in his decision to start at the far end of the village and work their way back toward the Drysdale estate to give the gift baskets, rather than what she knew to be a better way, which was to divide and conquer thus ensuring they would complete the task earlier, and be able to return to the warmth of his father’s parlor.
