She felt a blush rise upon her cheeks. Anger was a tiring thing, she realized. She was tired of being estranged, tired of lying alone in her big bed every night. But he still had much to explain. The question remained, was she ready to listen? Then, amid the boisterous celebration, calm settled upon her. Lottie's face teased the edges of her memory, as a whisper of air blew past, ruffling her skirts. A green leaf fluttered through the air just past her nose and up again to settle on Christian's head. Watching the children play kick ball, he laughed and absently brushed it away.
She felt her sister's spirit here in this glorious place and without thought, closed her eyes to absorb the sensation of her presence.
Oh, my dear, how I miss you.
Lifting her lids, Elizabeth felt a whisper of feeling, then the going of it.
How Lottie would have loved this place, she thought, studying clusters of white clouds as they skittered across the pristine, blue sky. Brighton and the seashore were a mere hour's carriage ride from here. One long ago summer, they'd traveled there with their parents. She and her sister had spent hours splashing around at the water's edge. They'd merrily plucked shells from the damp sand and placed them in a wicker basket.
As the melancholy remembrance settled softly over her, Elizabeth glanced up to find Christian watching her.
Leaning back against the trunk of an elm, he slowly reached out, oblivious to who might be watching, and brought his arm around her. Pulling her against him, he untied the ribbons of her bonnet and soon the article was tossed aside. “Tell me your thoughts, Elizabeth. This is the second time today that I've felt this sense of wistfulness within you."
"Nothing dire, I promise. Just remembering, that's all."
"Good things, I hope."
She smiled. “Naturally. How could anyone's thoughts be bad on such a day? Everyone here loves you, and they seem so happy that you have returned."
He opened his mouth to speak, but a small boy brazenly tugged at his coat. The lad had carrot orange curls and riotous freckles upon his impish face. He grinned bravely, showing a serious lack of front teeth. “Does ye want to kick the ball wiff us, Yer Grace? It ain't so berry hard eben if you is kinda old."
Christian narrowed his eyes and stood, towering over the boy, hands on his hips. Gamely, the child stared back, unfazed. With a wink at Elizabeth, Christian drew his coat off and tossed it carelessly aside. “Old, eh? I'll show you old, you naughty urchin."
With a wild whoop, he sprang at the boy and grabbed him around the waist. Tucking him neatly under his arm, he turned to Elizabeth and laughed as the boy squealed and wiggled like a piglet. “Duty calls, wife! I am off to terrorize the children."
"Be careful, old man,” she chortled, as he dashed off to the field where a number of men had gathered to play with the youngsters.
Moments later, she was surrounded by several women from the village. All were eager to get acquainted with the new duchess and talk turned to various charitable endeavors. She had to admit that it was wonderful to be so totally accepted. She was invited to help organize a clothing collection for the poorest of the village and agreed to join a group of ladies in their reading group. From their giggles and titters, she suspected that a great deal of sherry drinking and gossip was involved.
As the group thinned to only two or three young mothers, she was drawn to cuddle the newest village member. The newborn, tiny and pink, with the sweetest of rosebud lips, tugged gently at her heart. Elizabeth had never held such a tiny creature and suddenly, quite without warning, the thought of motherhood sank its tender claws into her heart.
The tiny girl's mouth moved continually, as if blowing kisses, and Elizabeth's heart was moved. Her skin prickled with want, with longing.
How could she even think such a thing with everything so topsy-turvy in her life? She and Christian barely talked, although she had to admit to a lessening of her anger over the past weeks.
Unable to help herself, she lowered her mouth to the baby's head and pressed a loving kiss upon it. Her fragrance was pure sweet innocence, and Elizabeth knew that she would never forget the wholly unique scent. Without warning, a strange feeling of being watched settled over her.
She lifted her head, still cuddling the baby to her breast. The heat of Christian's gaze sent a shiver of longing through her. He simply stood there in the middle of the field of players and stared as riotous laughter ensued around him. It was as if the sight of her holding the tiny creature held him immobile. A child's shout caused him to finally look away, and she watched as, with a hearty yell, he rejoined the activity.
Gently settling back, the infant in her arms, she imagined him as a father. In her thoughts, he laughed, played, teased. He read nightly fairy tales and carried a squealing child upon his shoulders.
Later, after the mother retrieved her child and left, Elizabeth reached down and touched her womb. Even now, a babe could be growing there. They had been married almost two months and had loved each other countless times.
Oh, my dear, Lottie, how magical it would be. A babe of my own. How I wish it, but fear it, too. You, love, would have been a perfect mother. But me? I simply do not know.
As the sun began to set, the joyous group made their way back to the village. Mothers had children to calm and put to bed. Others had further drinking to do. Christian's servants, many of whom lived in Haverly, left as well, leaving Christian and Elizabeth alone.
Still on the yellow quilt, he sprawled with his head resting on her lap. The sun dipped below the line of earth and the subtle gray of entering night settled around them. His eyes closed as she let her fingers tangle in his loosened hair.
"Christian?” she whispered, fearing he might be asleep.
"Hmm?"
"We must talk. I have been weak and afraid, but I must know everything. This disquiet has gone too long without answers. I cannot bear this wondering any longer. Please talk to me."
He looked at her. “Ask anything."
"I wish to know about your father's will and how you came to choose me. I want to know of your past and what you expect for the future."
A deep sigh settled in the air as he rubbed a hand over his face. “My father was a bastard. Not by birth, but by nature. As a human being, his heart was foul and completely without merit."
"I have heard talk, I'm afraid."
"I am sure you have. He was not popular among the townsfolk. Although he kept plentiful game in the woods and ensured needs were met, Father was not an affectionate man. He distrusted and, perhaps, disliked everyone."
Elizabeth's fingers swept the curve of Christian's jaw. “How did your mother abide him?"
"She loved him. When no one else cared a whit, she loved him. But her affections were never returned. He married her for dynastic reasons, practical reasons. He wanted the family name and connections, the perpetuation of his line. An heir and a spare, if you will. Father was always quick to blame her for having only me, but I never understood why. Even as a young lad, I sensed his neglect of both Mother and me. He was seldom home, preferring London and its pleasures."
"Tell me about your mother. You must have loved her very much."
"I still do, though she is long gone from this world. She was the sweetest of women and always had time for me. I shall always believe that Father's neglect killed her in the end. Her capacity for love was enormous, but when she became ill, he never came to her side. She had me, of course, and I worshipped her, but Father, damn him to hell, was a womanizer and a self-absorbed rogue. She died crying his name."
So sad! Elizabeth felt tears well up and fall down her cheeks. She sniffled.
Christian sat up and gave her a horrified look. “Do not cry, love. It was a very long time ago. I'd almost forgotten. Truly."
"Liar,” she whispered, touching his face. “Sometimes, sir, you break my heart."
Before he could respond to her statement, a rumble of thunder rolled through the clouds, alerting them to the coming of a summer storm. A crack of lightning fo
llowed. Moving quickly, he took her arm and together they raced back to Windmere as the rain began to fall.
Laughing, they tumbled through the foyer, clutching at each other. They looked at the mess they'd made of the entry floor. Then their gazes locked and the smiles faded.
He looked so serious and sad.
Her heart thumped madly in her chest as feelings she'd never felt before trembled just within reach. Her breath caught. Expectation thrummed in the air. She wanted to reach for him, touch the line of his mouth. She wanted to run her fingers through his damp hair and love him as his father never had. This talk of the past hurt him, and she needed to ease the pain if she could.
Slowly, he removed his jacket and draped it over his arm. “You wanted to talk,” he said. “And so we shall. I ordered a supper brought to my room. Please join me."
Gazing into his eyes, she knew she was lost. It was past time she learned how she fit into the painting that was Christian's life. She drew in a steadying breath, took his arm, and let him lead her upstairs.
Twenty-one
Christian quietly turned the latch and looked into Elizabeth's room. If she'd imagined the evening over following dinner in his room, she was mistaken. They'd dined on a cold repast and warm, albeit light, conversation, but now was the time to deal with weightier issues, such her as once again sharing his bed.
She sat before a cheerily dancing fire, dragging a brush through her shining curls. She wore a sheer lawn night rail that lovingly caressed her body. It was a low-cut affair, and the tops of her pale breasts peeking out taunted him mercilessly. His mouth went dry as he ran a damp palm over the brocade of his dark green dressing gown. Her loveliness made him feel like a callow lad, and he greedily drank in the sight of her.
What was she thinking to seem so pensive?
Was she even close to forgiving him at last?
A log sizzled and cracked in the fireplace, and she stilled, leaning closer to examine the shower of sparks flitting about. Shadows danced over her delicate face, lending an air of mystery to her beauty.
He shifted and as the floor beneath him creaked, she glanced up and straightened. “My lord!"
"I'm sorry, my dear. I didn't mean to startle you.” Without waiting for an invitation, he came in and closed the door. Tension stole through the room. She wet her lips and clutched the handle of the brush until her knuckles turned white. She was nervous, but he wouldn't let that keep him from his goal. “Do you mind if I intrude?"
"No."
He caught his breath at her beauty and steeled himself not to touch. Moving to her side, he settled into a matching armchair by the fire as she proceeded to again drag the brush through her heavy mass of hair. Enchanted, he reached to the table between them and poured a dram of brandy into two glasses. Taking one, he sipped and watched her. “Are you chilled?"
"No."
He looked down the front of the night rail and noted with pleasure the pearling of her nipples. She lied, he thought, remembering her taste, the puckering hardness of her flesh. Helplessly, he felt his body react.
Tonight, he thought, narrowing his eyes, feeling the hot surge of lust pour through his veins, warming him as brandy never could.
When she stood to replace the brush, he saw the outline of her body backlit by the fire. Slender at the waist, full at breast and hip, she was every man's dream, but he knew, deep within his heart, that she belonged only to him. The ache within him grew.
Returning to her chair, she began to sit but looked up, surprise on her face, as he took her hand and settled her in his lap. She gasped.
He smiled, needing to ease her worries. “We shall talk of intimate things, and I would have you close,” he said as he settled her firmly against his body. Reaching out, he plucked her glass of brandy from the table and gave it to her. “All right, love?"
"Yes,” she whispered. She looked down and plucked at the folds of her garment with one hand before finally lifting her head to look at him. Her eyes were dark with emotion.
He reached out to cup her cheek then gently lowered her head to rest against his shoulder. Her breath ruffled the mat of hair on his chest, and he inhaled deeply, struggling to keep a tight reign on his desires.
Finally, she sighed. “Your past is such a mystery to me. My childhood was blessed with love and parental affection. I was lucky enough to know the love of a sister whom I adored. Today you moved me to tears, and I must know more."
"It is a sorry tale, darling."
"Please tell me."
Her breath stirred him again, and she lifted her hand to his chest as if were the most natural thing in the world. Relaxing into the plush chair, he sighed and held her tighter. “I could not escape from my father quickly enough after Mother died. As you know, I went to the Orient and made my fortune. A hefty one. I did not want to depend on my inheritance. I did not want anything from the man who had so abused my mother. I might still be in China if it were not for receiving a letter from his solicitor."
"What did it say?"
"The letter said my father was dying.” Idly, Christian rubbed a hand over her shoulders and down her back. “I had to come. What a wasted sight he was, but I felt no pity for him. Lord help me, I hated the very sight of him! Every time I looked into those jaundiced eyes, I remembered how desperately my mother had called for him, cried for him. I had no pity left."
"How awful for you.” Elizabeth looked into his eyes and placed a kiss upon his chin. “What happened?"
He drew in a breath, knowing he must come to the part that deeply concerned her. “He told me that he had changed his will. He wanted me married and settled. His only concern was not for me, but for the dukedom. The man was frantic that I wed and continue what he'd begun. Sorry bastard!"
"Why was this so hard for you? It only seems normal that a man do his duty."
"Duty?” He made a rough sound. “All I had known of duty was positively nothing. Where was his duty to my mother? I vowed to live as I pleased without hurting anyone."
Elizabeth stiffened against him. “There have been tales."
"Yes, I know of my reputation. Womanizer. Rogue. Scoundrel.” He laughed grimly, knowing how horrible he must seem to her. “Yes, I have had many women, but loved none of them. You must believe, darling, that I never loved them. They wanted sex just as I did. Sex became, I think, almost an addiction, but I never preyed on young innocents. From my mother, I had first-hand knowledge of the pain love could bring and wanted no part of it."
She sat utterly still, and he worried that he'd said too much. “Attachments were something I vowed to avoid, so I hardened myself to anything but the easiest of affections. Perhaps, those careless meetings with women reminded me that I was human and not a machine like my father.
"Yes, I was the greatest fool ever born. I came to think that love was nothing but a figment of my mother's imagination. Everything about my life after Mother's death felt hollow, unreal. I was bitter, I know. But I knew that if I did not honor my father's will, Park would inherit."
"Would that be so wrong?” Tension laced Elizabeth's voice. “You already possess a fortune, more than most Peers of the Realm. You did not have to honor the will."
"I did,” he said with the utmost assurance. “Park is an imbecile, who would have bankrupted the estates as quickly as possible. You have met the people here. They are honest, hard-working folk who must depend on their lord. I have seven other estates just like this one."
"I understand. My father is also responsible for many people, so I understand your feelings of obligation. The night of the soiree, Park told me horrid things about you.” She looked at him. Her brows knitted.
Christian pressed a kiss to her forehead. “He obviously did not want us to marry. If I was not married by my birthday, the estates and title, the entire fortune would revert to him. He is more clever than I thought. He knew I courted you and he sought to destroy everything."
"Things seem so much clearer."
"These people you met today wo
uld have suffered grievously had he inherited the title, Elizabeth. Surely you understand?"
Drawing away slightly, she looked into his eyes and cocked her head. “Yes, I understand now, but why did you choose me?"
He flashed her a grin. “Ah, love, how could I not? It was because you were the most beautiful.” She took an outraged breath, but he laughed and shushed her with a finger over her lips. “Let me tell you what I saw that night,” he said, turning solemn. “That night you were a vision. Cool, aloof, reserved, and the most beautiful woman I had ever set my eyes upon."
She opened her mouth, but once again he hushed her. Leaning close, he breathed against her lips. “Everything about you set my senses reeling, sweet one. There was vulnerability beneath your haughty airs, and you cannot deny it. I knew. I knew that you would fit neatly into my arms. Life would never be dull with you there snarling at me.” He laughed and pressed her closer. “I did not know your name, but I knew I must have you."
"That is silly in the extreme,” she said with a sniff. He saw the uncertainty in her eyes and laughed out loud.
By God, he was winning!
He could feel it in her relaxed posture. See it in the slight smile she fought to hide.
"Edward came upon the scene, and I fought hard not to punch him in the mouth. Already I admired you, but then he came forward and taunted you. I could not bear it! I wanted to kill the man for his attack. You were like a Valkyrie maiden. Strong, undaunted, you faced him like a warrior! I was quite impressed.” He laughed as Elizabeth melted against him.
"I knew then that I must have you,” he said softly, settling his hand upon her thigh. “I kissed you that very night."
"I remember,” she breathed. “I wanted to claw your eyes out of your head, but then you kissed me, and I almost swooned. I had never been kissed before, did you know that?"
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