by Olivia Drake
“Indeed? One would think he’d be more furious that Walt had told lies about your character.”
Warmed by Damien’s heated defense of her, Ellie managed a wan smile. “Speaking of Walt, I asked the earl about the stolen key. But my uncle denies that it even exists. So my cousin must have lied to him about that, as well.”
“Never mind. Walt will return to London eventually—perhaps sometime during the season. I’ll confront him about it then.”
“If I hadn’t been so distressed by the interview, I should have thought to sneak into his bedchamber and search for the key right then and there. Perhaps I can return sometime and—”
“No,” Damien said sharply. “You will do no such thing, Ellie. I forbid you to enter that house ever again without me at your side. You’re my wife now, and I won’t allow you to be subjected to any more of their deplorable insults.”
His dictatorial manner ought to have irked her, but she found herself pleased instead. It felt good to have someone on her side for once. She confessed, “Grandmamma did say that it would have been a tragedy if Beatrice had been the one who was abducted and forced into marriage to a scoundrel. But she doesn’t realize how happy I am to be gone from there, or that I’d been planning to leave, anyway.”
He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, his fierce gaze focused on her. “My God! I wish I could fathom how that woman can venerate one granddaughter while scorning the other. Especially you, Ellie. What could she not love about you?”
Ellie couldn’t speak for a moment. Her throat felt too tangled with emotions … hope and longing … and apprehension, too. Did Damien really think so highly of her? Could he ever love her? Did she even want him to love her?
Restless, she jumped up from the chair and began to pace back and forth. “I suppose it all goes back to my father,” she murmured. “As I told you, he was a gambler. My uncle and grandmother have always referred to Papa as the black sheep of the family. He couldn’t keep himself away from the gaming tables. I was only a child at the time, but I remember him being gone for days at a time.”
Damien sat watching her. “Where was your mother?”
“She died when I was six—Lily’s age.” Ellie pulled the shawl tighter around her shoulders. “I spent most of my time in the care of servants. I suppose that’s when I developed a love of stories. No matter what happened, I could always escape into my own world of make-believe.”
“Did you and your father ever live at Pennington House?”
She shook her head. “Oh, no, he wasn’t welcome there—neither of us were. We moved from place to place, each one more ramshackle than the last. By then, Papa had turned to drink to drown his sorrows. One night, he stepped into a busy thoroughfare outside a Covent Garden theater and … a carriage ran him down. He died right there on the street.” Shivering, she rubbed her arms and took a deep breath before continuing. “Since I was only fourteen, I was sent to live with my uncle. I was expected to help with my younger cousins in the nursery. I … always felt obliged to the earl for settling Papa’s extensive debts.”
As she walked past his chair, Damien caught hold of her hand to bring her to a halt. “And Pennington never let you hear the end of it. Like father, like daughter. Is that what he led you to believe?”
“Yes. Grandmamma always said I had bad blood.” Her chest tight, Ellie gazed down at their clasped hands. “But Papa wasn’t a wicked man. He was very charming and he did love me. He often told me so. Whenever he came home, we would read books together, talk for hours, go out for long walks in the park. It’s just that … he was weak. He could never give me the one thing I needed most. He couldn’t stop destroying himself at the gaming tables.”
Aghast when a tear rolled down her cheek, Ellie tugged at his grip to free herself. She had locked away those painful memories and it hurt to let them out. Now she just wanted to curl up in a ball and make the world go away.
Damien, however, grasped her waist with both of his hands. As he swung her down into his lap, the shawl slipped from her shoulders and fell onto the floor. But she wasn’t cold anymore, not when he placed his arms around her and cradled her close to the heat of his body.
Ellie found herself leaning against him, the way his daughter had been nestled against her that afternoon. She rested her head on his shoulder and let herself absorb his warm strength, while she breathed in his clean, spicy scent. Perhaps she was like her father in a way; she was very weak-willed when it came to Damien.
He gently thumbed a tear from her cheek. “That’s twice today that I’ve driven you to tears.”
“No, it’s just that … my spirits have been a bit low today after visiting my family. It isn’t your fault.”
“No?” He tilted up her chin so that she could see the ruefulness in his expression. “You’re married to the owner of a gaming club. Perhaps you think I take advantage of men like your father. Or worse, that I’ll be caught up in the madness of gambling and destroy myself, and Lily will end up orphaned like you were. You do fear that may happen, don’t you?”
Ellie opened her mouth to deny it. But he was right. The dreadful prospect had lurked at the back of her mind. “Yes, I suppose so.”
“Then it may help for you to know that I’m very scrupulous about the membership at my club. If a gentleman is unable to pay his debts, he isn’t allowed to play at my tables. That is one of the house rules at Demon’s Den. No man may come to ruin under my roof. As to my own predilections, I no longer gamble as deeply as I once did. Now, I play only as necessary to be sociable with the club members.” He cupped her cheek in his hand. “Ellie, I want you to heed me well. I could never be tempted into losing my fortune on a roll of the dice or a turn of a card. It won’t happen. That’s a sickness in some men, but not in me.”
He sounded so firm that Ellie was tempted to believe him. Yet her father had always made promises, too. “Well,” she said lightly, “I don’t suppose I can complain too much since I’m to benefit from the fruits of your success.”
He gave her a speculative look. “Ah, yes, the cottage. I’ve been meaning to speak to you about that.”
Ellie didn’t want to think about leaving him. Not at present when she felt so deliciously warm and comfortable nestled in his lap. But she was the one who had alluded to the cottage. “Has your land agent begun looking for a place, then?”
“Not yet. First, I need to find out precisely where it is you wish to live. Hampshire? Cornwall? The Lake District? Be forewarned, finding the perfect house for you may take a month or even longer if he has to go far afield.”
Damien had moved his hand to her back, and his fingers idly rubbed up and down over her nightdress, making it difficult for her to concentrate. She tried to fathom why none of those locations appealed to her. Out of the haze of her thoughts, an idea sprang into her mind, a prospect so risky that she feared he would reject it outright.
But she had to voice it. “I would rather stay close to London, I think. So that I might perhaps … come and visit Lily sometimes.” Realizing that her future happiness was dependent upon his answer, she touched his cheek in supplication. “May I, Damien? I know how protective you are of her, but … would you ever allow me to do so?”
He was silent a moment, his expression inscrutable. But his eyes took on a certain gleam in the firelight. “I believe I could permit you under certain circumstances.”
“What do you mean?”
“You would have to visit me, as well.”
Just like that, the air between them became charged with sensuality. His fingers began to play with her unbound breasts through the thin fabric of her nightdress. As he stroked his thumb over her nipple, a rush of heat made her shiver. The pleasure of it was so intense that she sucked in a breath and closed her eyes, the better to savor the sensation.
He brought his mouth close to hers. “Have I made myself clear?”
“Very,” she whispered. Her impulse was to accept his condition with alacrity. But was that wise? Did she wis
h to continue an intimate relationship with him even after she had moved out of his house? It would certainly increase the chances of her conceiving his child.
A baby. A sister or brother for Lily. The prospect filled Ellie with the softness of yearning. But having children would make it more difficult for them to live apart. Already, she could feel the silken bonds that tied them together. And she feared to become inextricably bound to a man who made his income from the pastime that had ruined her father’s life.
“Are you agreeable, then?” Damien continued to lightly run his fingers over her breasts. “Your visits would include being with me, sharing my bed.”
“Oh, Damien, I don’t know if I can make such a promise,” she said in a rush. “I’m sorry. I can only say that I … I will consider it.”
His disappointment was revealed by a slight quirk of his lips, a brief lowering of his eyes. He brought his hand up to cup her neck while he pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Well. You did make your views on our marriage clear from the start.”
Nonplussed, Ellie gazed at him, wishing that he had not ceased to be seductive. Heaven help her, she hadn’t meant for him to take her words as an utter rejection. He had to understand that it was one thing to contemplate an interlude of a few blissful weeks together, and quite another to agree to continue their intimacy once she had established a new life for herself elsewhere.
“Please, you misunderstand me.” Catching hold of his hand, she brought it back to her bosom, shaped it around her breast, and held it there. “Until I move out of this house, I do wish to be with you—as your wife. In fact, I was heading into your bedchamber tonight when you walked into mine. I thought you were gone, and I’d intended to slip into your bed and await your return.”
His gaze sharpened on her. His mouth curled into a slow, rakish grin. “Oh? You might have said so from the start. I wouldn’t have wasted all this time talking.”
She laughed, and all the worry and fear and confusion vanished in an instant, leaving only the bliss of being free to satisfy her craving for him. Their mouths met in a long, deep, delicious kiss that felt so much more arousing than memory served. They had not made love since that last night at the castle, when she had naïvely believed that his initiation of her would be sufficient to sate her passions forever.
Would she always feel such an all-consuming desire for Damien? She wouldn’t let herself think of the future just yet. There was only the here and now, the taste of his skin, the scent of his body, the strength of his muscles. He was all hers, and she loved the way his lips skimmed over her throat and breasts, while his hand delved beneath her nightdress to tease her in the most wickedly wonderful way. What a pleasure it was to enjoy each other without any constraints whatsoever.
After a timeless interlude of petting and kissing by the fire, they shed their scant clothing and lay down in her bed, their naked bodies entwined. Ellie indulged herself by touching the width of his shoulders, the sculpture of his back and chest, the thickness of his hair. And she loved being touched by Damien in return. He had a maddening skill for prolonging the act, for knowing exactly how to bring her to the brink without allowing her over the edge.
She enjoyed torturing him, too, reaching between them to stroke the hard length of his manhood until he groaned deeply, trembling with the effort to hold himself in control. Only when the fire in both of them burned at a fever pitch did he press her back against the pillows and slowly enter her. He gazed into her eyes, murmuring her name, making her feel beautiful and very, very desired.
It was truly a transcendent experience. Somehow, the act of lovemaking felt so much richer and deeper than ever before. She felt one with Damien, in perfect accord, body and soul. Then the irresistible pull of passion banished all coherent thought. Ellie surrendered to the urgent need building inside of her, lifting her hips to take him more fully inside herself, striving toward completion and the waves of ultimate bliss.
In the aftermath, as they lay cuddled together beneath the covers, the bedchamber dim from the dying fire, she had one last hazy thought before drifting into slumber. Tonight had been a consecration of their wedding vows. They were truly husband and wife now.
Chapter 25
In the days that followed, Ellie found herself fitting seamlessly into the fabric of the household. Damien was gone much of the time at his club, and she had the leisure to do as she wished. It seemed peculiar at first not to have every moment regimented by the demands of her cousin and grandmother. After all those years of servitude, she felt an almost guilty pleasure to be pursuing her own interests.
A large parcel arrived for her the next afternoon, and to her amazement, it contained art supplies, from paper to pens to watercolors, all of the finest quality. There was a note from Damien saying that Ellie was to order whatever else she deemed necessary and have the bill sent to him. She felt a clutch of her heart. Never in her life had anyone given her a more perfect, thoughtful gift.
Armed with her new equipment, she devoted a great deal of effort to the project of dividing her long fairy tale into a collection of shorter books. It took considerable thought to concoct plot twists and to find ways in which to create plausible endings to each section. For hours, she would sit at the desk in her bedchamber or on the chaise longue by the windows and apply herself to the task of writing and illustrating the revised pages.
As much as Ellie loved her work, however, there were occasions during the course of each day when she needed a break. So she went exploring through every nook and cranny of Damien’s house. She felt rather like an interloper, peeking into rooms and antechambers, going up and down the several staircases, wandering from one floor to the next, and marveling at the tranquil beauty of the décor.
This was her home. And yet it wasn’t. How strange to think that she was the mistress of this fine mansion, albeit temporarily.
One of her favorite places was a large conservatory with a glass roof. Here, the air was moist and tropical with lush vegetation, and there were benches where she sometimes sat with her sketchpad. She also loved the library, a high-ceilinged chamber with groupings of chairs where one might sit in the hushed silence and read or draw. The shelves were half empty, though, and she wondered if Damien meant to fill them slowly over the coming years. How lovely it would be to visit bookstores with him, to make new selections and carry them home to unwrap …
Then Ellie would remember she wouldn’t be here for much longer.
Sometimes she would venture belowstairs. She had discovered that Mrs. MacNab was Damien’s cook. Perhaps it wasn’t quite dignified for her elevated station, but Ellie enjoyed sitting at the long table in the kitchen, chatting with the woman about household gossip or menus. On a number of occasions, she’d had to stop herself from reminiscing about certain incidents at the island castle. There were always other servants nearby, and no one on staff other than Finn and his wife knew that the master had abducted Ellie.
Strange, how she could feel such wistful nostalgia about that interlude at the castle, when the raging winter storm had trapped her in the company of the Demon Prince. She remembered how gruff Damien had been at first, how his manner had gradually thawed, how he had carried her up to her tower bedchamber when she’d sprained her ankle, how he had brandished the fireplace poker as a sword while posing as Prince Ratworth. And she remembered that first wild kiss on the parapet and their magical night together when she had coaxed him into her bed.
Damien needed no coaxing anymore. They slept together every night, although work often required him to stay late at his club. How she relished being awakened with kisses, feeling the warmth of his body beside her in bed. And always there was the intense pleasure of his lovemaking, the intimate touches, the sense of being one with him. When she allowed herself to consider it, Ellie feared a strengthening of the silken bonds that tied them together. But she had resolved to savor each moment of this interlude and not fret about the future.
Each afternoon, her heart leaped when he came into her
bedchamber to give her a lingering kiss before they went upstairs to take tea with Lily in the nursery. On Sundays, they would attend church and then take a walk in Hyde Park so that Lily could look for ducklings to feed. While the girl skipped ahead of them on the path, they strolled arm in arm and talked about many topics, from the progress of her book to household matters to Lily’s schooling—but never Ellie’s departure.
Ellie didn’t want to spoil their easy camaraderie by inquiring about the cottage. Damien had said that the task of finding the perfect place might take a while, and surely he would tell her when he had news of a good prospect. In the interim, she let herself drift along in a glow of happiness, never looking further ahead than the next scene in her book.
One day, she had an unexpected caller. Summoned to a sunny yellow sitting room, she found Lady Anne perched nervously on a chair. The earl’s sister-in-law wore a nondescript gray gown that turned her eyes more gray than blue, and a lace spinster’s cap that covered her silvering dark hair. A shy smile lit her delicate features.
Ellie gave her a warm hug. “Does my uncle know you’re here?”
“Heavens, no! He said we are to cut off all ties. But … my dear girl, I could not rest easy without assuring myself of your happiness.”
Ellie was touched to the depths of her heart. Lady Anne had been the only one in the Pennington household who had ever shown her kindness. Not wanting the woman to worry, Ellie portrayed herself as perfectly serene in her marriage, with Lily a lovely stepdaughter and Damien a kind husband.
“Might I … meet him?” Lady Anne asked rather hopefully.
“Oh, my lady, I’m sorry, he’s away at his club. Perhaps…”
Ellie stopped herself before inviting Lady Anne to dinner one evening. How could she make future plans when she didn’t know the timing of her exodus from London? And anyway, it seemed unfair to encourage more family visits when she would be gone soon. As she hugged the woman good-bye, she felt the wrenching pain of knowing they would likely never again meet.
