Despised & Desired--The Marquess' Passionate Wife (#3 Love's Second Chance Series)

by Bree Wolf

  As an almost painful sense of regret flooded his heart at the mere thought of never feeling her soft skin under his hands again, a rather obnoxious voice whispered in his head, reminding him of the yet unresolved issue of an heir.

  Cursing under his breath, Frederick raked his hands through his hair, welcoming the dull pain as he tried to pull it out by the roots.

  A knock sounded on his door, and Frederick spun around. For a moment, he closed his eyes and tried to regain his composure before calling for the person on the other side of the door to enter.

  Grabbing a handful of papers from his desk, Frederick looked up as dainty footsteps echoed on the parquet floor, and his heart nearly stopped when he found himself looking at his wife, who just then closed the door behind her.

  They were alone.

  Frederick swallowed, retreating until he felt the desk in his back. “My lady?” he whispered, his mind unable to form a coherent sentence as it was currently occupied with the way her lips curled up into a soft smile that lit up her beautiful eyes. Those eyes that had seen into his soul more than once and that always seemed to know just how to render his defences useless.

  “Frederick, I need to speak with you.”

  “Frederick?” he repeated, gawking at her.

  She stopped a few steps in front of him, and her eyes met his as a rather mischievous curl came to her lips. “Do you not consider it appropriate?” she asked, a kind challenge in her voice, and took a step closer.

  Stiffening, Frederick drew in a sharp breath.

  “Is something wrong?” she enquired, eyeing him curiously. “You seem stressed.” Again, she took a step closer and then another until she stood before him, the sweet scent of her soft skin muddling his mind.

  Taking shallow breaths, Frederick tried to ignore the siren’s call that echoed in his blood. How was it that he could suddenly not be in the same room with her without feeling the desperate need to wrap her in his arms?

  Striding over to the window front, Frederick cleared his throat and took a deep breath. Yes, a little distance helped clear his mind. Turning to face her once more, he linked his hands behind his back, thus, hopefully avoiding any unwise initiation of physical contact from his side. “What can I do for you, my lady?”

  A knowing smile played on her lips as she met his eyes. “It is about Maryann. I just spoke to your mother, and we agree that the Midnight Ball might not be the best occasion for Maryann to return to society.”

  Transfixed by the way her lips moved as she spoke, Frederick barely heard what she said as his mind recalled the softness of her lips and his own began to tingle in pleasure.

  “However, we also agree that it will be time soon to persuade Maryann to accompany us to an appropriate event,” his wife continued, and Frederick tried to force his attention to the soft words spoken with her beautiful voice. “It is not good for her to spend all her time alone with only us for company. She needs to see other people and come to realise that it is all right for her to be happy again. Do you not agree?”

  Frederick froze. From the sound of her voice, he knew that she had just asked him a question; however, his mind was unable to provide him with any content to which he could reply. Still transfixed by her lips, he watched them turn into a beautiful smile, a smile that slowly moved toward him.

  Clearing his throat, Frederick blinked. His eyes finally settled on hers as she crossed the last few steps between them, and he drew in a sharp breath.

  Standing before him, her deep blue eyes looked up into his, and again, a somewhat mischievous smile curled up her lips before she spoke. “Do you wish to kiss me?”

  Heat shot up Frederick’s face, and he mumbled unintelligible sounds like an idiot. At a loss, he took a step backward as all rational thought abandoned him.

  A delighted chuckle rose from her throat, and once again, she bit her lower lip, the hint of a blush colouring her own cheeks. However, unlike him, she did not appear witless, but instead a spark of determination came to her eyes, and she closed the distance between them once again. Holding his gaze, she lifted her hands and gently placed them on his chest.

  Frederick drew in a sharp breath, feeling his resolve melt away.

  “May I ask a question?” she whispered as her warm breath brushed over his skin.

  Gritting his teeth, he swallowed and just barely managed to nod his head.

  The smile still on her face, she asked, “How come you have never kissed me? Do you not want to?”

  Jolted awake, Frederick stared at her, his gaze once more drawn to her soft lips. “Yes, I do…I mean, I…I have.” Embarrassed by his own inability to voice his thoughts in a coherent fashion, Frederick turned away, but her hands still resting on his chest stopped him.

  “I meant outside of the bedchamber,” she clarified as her own cheeks turned a deeper shade of red; and yet, despite her own embarrassment, her eyes never left his. “And was it not I who initiated that kiss as well?”

  “I do believe so,” he said, watching his words fall against her lips. Releasing the tight grip he had on his hands, his arms came forward, slowly reaching for her.

  Her hands pressed tighter against his chest as she moved into him, her head tilted upward, welcoming his lips.

  Surprised, Frederick noticed that his head was beginning to lean down toward her, her lips closer now than they had been a mere moment before. His heart thudded against her hands, and he cursed under his breath as his voice of reason issued a warning.

  An agonising growl rose from his throat then, scaring away all objections his mind could possibly bring before him. Desire took him, and his hands came around her, pulling her closer.

  Her breathing had quickened as well, and her fingers dug into his shirt.

  Unable to resist any longer, Frederick lowered his head, his mouth hungry for hers, when voices suddenly echoed through the door, quickly followed by a short, but determined knock.

  As his head snapped up, his eyes burned a hole into the door. “May the devil take them all,” he growled, frustration ringing in his voice.

  “I will see you tonight,” his wife whispered as she stepped out of his embrace, a delighted smile playing on her lips. Her eyes held his a moment longer before she turned away and opened the door.

  Damn them all to hell, Frederick thought, watching her leave.

  Chapter Thirty-Three – In his Hands

  Never before had Frederick noticed the intricate wavy grain of the door that connected his bedchamber to his wife’s. As the moon slowly climbed the horizon, its crescent hanging high in the sky watching over the sleeping world, Frederick remained frozen to the spot. Staring at the heavy wooden door, he lifted a hand, reaching for the doorknob, only to pull it back as though slapped a moment later.

  Raking his hands through his hair, he groaned, then spun around and started pacing the room. The skin covering his skull ached, and he thought that should this continue he would surely be bald soon−and mad.

  As his blood boiled in his veins, making it increasingly difficult to maintain a clear head, Frederick felt his muscles tense, trying to hold on to the control he felt slipping away.

  Her siren call was as strong now as it had been this afternoon. Only too well did he remember his own surrender and the desperate need to hold her in his arms and feel her soft lips on his own. Had his mother and Maryann not knocked on the door to his study at precisely that moment, he would have been lost, his resolve melted away by her radiant blue eyes. And even after she had left the room, his mind had been solely focused on her; he barely remembered what his mother and Maryann had meant to tell him. He sincerely hoped it had not been important.

  Approaching the window, he stared at the night sky, the moon’s soft, silver light touching the earth with gentle fingers. Frederick didn’t know why, but the dark had something soothing, calming as though the brightness of day hurt his eyes and the night provided the necessary relief to regain his strength and face another day.

  Resting his forehead ag
ainst the cool window pane, he closed his eyes. Even though every fibre of his body argued against it, Frederick knew that he had to take a stand. There could be no further intimacies with his wife for his resolve, weak as it was, would not survive it. Somehow, he would need to make her understand that it was for the better.

  A soft knock echoed through the door, and Frederick’s eyes snapped open.

  Unable to move, he listened, knowing that the knock had not come from the door leading out to the corridor, but instead from his wife’s bedchamber; and the struggle within him began anew.

  How could he take a stand when his own resolve was non-existent?

  Lifting his head off the glass, he turned around, staring at the door, willing it to open while at the same time fearing that it would. How could anyone be so conflicted and not go mad?

  His eyes fixed on the door handle, he watched it move downward, slowly, quietly before the door began to slide open. Holding his breath, Frederick took a step backwards and collided with the wall, feeling the cool glass of the window against his fingertips.

  The moment his gaze met hers, Frederick knew he was lost.

  The soft light of the moon touched her deep blue eyes, lending them a sparkle that made him catch his breath. A shy smile curled up her lips as she tiptoed into his room in nothing but her nightgown, her bare feet making no sound on the wooden floor. In her right hand, she held a candle, its warm, orange glow the only colour in an otherwise dark world.

  “Are you avoiding me?” Her melodious voice asked, dancing across the room and touching his heart so effortlessly. “I’ve been waiting.” Even in the dim light, he could see the soft glow that came to her rosy cheeks as she once again fought down her own nerves and pursued her heart’s desire.

  How could such strength live within her when his own legs had turned to pudding at the mere sight of her? He wondered. However, maybe the difference lay within the fact that while she followed her heart’s desire, he, on the other hand, was fighting his.

  “I assure you, my lady, I am not avoiding you,” he croaked, then cleared his throat. “I merely…I…You ought not to be here.” Taking a step forward, he met her eyes, willing his face to remain unaffected by her sweet scent that drifted to his nose. Once again, he linked his hands behind his back and straightened his shoulders, hoping to portray the determination he did not feel.

  “I am your wife,” she whispered, slowly approaching him. A delighted smile played on her lips, and her eyes shone with a devotion that almost choked the air from his lungs. “Why ought I not be here?”

  Realising that he could not fool her, Frederick swallowed. Despite his best efforts, she could still see through his mask to the core of his being, his own desires reflected back to him in her open eyes. “My lady, the hour is late. You ought to be in bed.”

  “I was.” Grinning, she bit her lip, taking another step toward him. “However, this afternoon, you led me to believe that you would join me. Have you changed your mind?”

  Watching her approach, Frederick drew in a deep breath, and his arms returned to his sides.

  When she came to stand an arm’s length before him, her eyes melted into his as though trying to help him see the futility of his efforts to keep himself locked away from the world. “At some point,” she whispered across the small dancing flame, “we all need to face our fears.”

  Lifting her other hand, she licked her thumb and index finger. Then she took a deep breath, and Frederick noticed that her hands were trembling. Holding his gaze, she extinguished the flame, and a small shiver went over her as she exhaled.

  Then the smile returned to her lips, and she set down the candlestick on the desk beside them. “Fear must be felt and faced,” she said, once more placing her hands on his chest, “before we lose ourselves to it.”

  Frederick swallowed, feeling her soft skin through the thin fabric of his shirt. The warmth of her body so close to his engulfed him whole and melted away the ice that clung to his heart. “Does fire not frighten you anymore?” he whispered, brushing a stray curl from her forehead, his eyes gliding over her scars before returning to look into hers.

  “It does,” she admitted, and a soft tremble shook her lips. “But I do my best not to let that fear control me. It is a struggle. Every day.” Her lips relaxed before a smile reclaimed them once more. “But it is worth it.”

  Nodding, he looked down at her, his hand cupping the side of her face.

  “I know that you feel more at ease in the dark,” she whispered, her eyes never leaving his. “I know that at least for now you need it to let down your guard.” She swallowed, then inhaled deeply before speaking again. “What I’m asking is are you willing to share it with me? Or do you rather want me to go?” The hands that rested on his chest began to tremble.

  Looking down at her, Frederick realised that her fear of fire was not the only thing that still haunted her. Despite the courage she so often portrayed, she, too, risked her heart by so openly offering it to him, and the fear of having it broken was clearly edged into her eyes.

  For so long his sense of self-preservation had dominated his actions. Fear of the sufferings human interaction would bring had made him shy away from everyone in his life, had made him determined to keep himself at a distance because deep down he knew that he was only one step away from losing his mind and giving up his life for good.

  However, in that moment, when she stood before him and opened her heart to him, allowing herself to be vulnerable, everything changed.

  Gazing into her eyes, Frederick smiled, and a sense of peace washed over him that he had not felt in a long time. “I don’t ever want you to go,” he whispered, and a smile spread over her face that could have lit up the night.

  Pulling her into his arms, his eyes caressed her face, gliding from her own to her lips and over the scars that had brought them together. He could look at her for hours, feeling her warm body moulded against his.

  His arms tightened around her then, pressing her closer to him, and the moment changed. In her open eyes, he could see tenderness slowly be replaced by desire as it pushed to the front. She raised her chin, her eyes dipping to his lips.

  Frederick took a deep breath, knowing that there was no turning back, not that he wanted to. Slowly, he lowered his head and captured her mouth with his. A soft moan escaped her, and she melted against him as his strong arms held her.

  Just as she had done the night before, she handed over the reins and allowed him to guide her through the sensual pleasures of the marriage bed, her trust in him unwavering.

  And for the first time since he had returned home, Frederick did not flinch at the thought of someone else’s happiness resting in his hands.

  Chapter Thirty-Four – A Severe Case of Inattention

  When Ellie awoke the next morning, the memory of the previous night still played on her lips, and she stretched lazily before even opening her eyes. It had been a long time since she had slept this well.

  Reaching out her hand, she found the other side of the bed empty, and a stab of disappointment penetrated the love pulsing in her heart.

  Despite everything they had shared the night before, Frederick had left. He had even risen from his own bed in order to avoid waking up next to her.

  Ellie sighed.

  Sitting up, her eyes shifted to the window where brilliant sunlight filtered in through the half-closed curtains, casting a beam across the floor, which touched her nightgown that still lay in a crumpled heap on the Persian rug.

  A smile tugged at Ellie’s lips at the memory of how it had gotten there, and an excited shiver shot up and down her body as the warmth returned to her heart.

  He loved her; she was sure of it. However, his demons still plagued him, and as she had so observantly noted the night before, he felt safest in the shadows. The light of day scared him; it was too revealing, too painful.

  Ellie reminded herself that she would have to be patient, and yet, she knew that treading too lightly would only make things
worse. Frederick’s way of dealing with the pain in his past was avoidance, which would only lead to more heartache. At some point, he would need to turn around and face his fears, and if he was not willing to do so on his own, then she would have to see to it herself.

  Slipping back into her nightgown, Ellie returned to her chamber and rang for Betty. After putting on a new gown and having her hair styled in the casual fashion she had come to like, Ellie went downstairs for breakfast.

  Upon approaching the back parlour, chatty voices drifted to her ears, and Ellie realised that she was late yet again. Apparently, spending the night in her husband’s arms caused her to oversleep.

  “Good morning,” she greeted the rest of her family, who welcomed her with equal delight. Taking her seat, she met her husband’s eyes and found a warm glow on his face as he gazed at her. Although clearly still suffering from a touch of self-consciousness, his eyes did not have the slightly shocked expression that she had seen there the day before.

  Breakfast was a delight as Ellie’s doubts with regard to her husband’s feelings seemed to have evaporated. Instead, she revelled in the shy smiles they exchanged under their family’s scrutinising eyes, and whenever her gaze met his, her heart danced in her chest.

  It was truly a wonderful day.

  Or at least, a wonderful morning.

  After spending an hour in the drawing room with Theresa and Maryann as they discussed their upcoming tea party, Ellie began to feel the separation from her husband acutely. Fidgeting in her seat, she glanced at the door again and again, hoping that he would join them; what rational reason there was for him to do so, she could not say.

  “Why don’t you go see him?” Theresa suggested, and Ellie’s head snapped around. Her mother-in-law smiled at her, then reached out and patted her knee. “Go talk to him, and ask if he has any objections to the date we’ve chosen.”

  Staring at Theresa, Ellie raked her brain but could not recall the conversation her mother-in-law was referring to. “The date,” she mumbled, glancing at Maryann, whose lips were stretched into a knowing smirk. “Yes, the date. Well…”