by Adele Clee
Her love for him burst through her like a bright beacon. But she could not let the words fall from her lips. Instead, she wrapped her legs more firmly around him, poured every ounce of feeling into mirroring his motions to heighten the sensation.
Every slow thrust drew her closer to the heavenly place. But she wanted to hover on the brink, to prolong the moment.
"Oh, God, Grace. I … I can't wait."
Elliot's words sent her hurling over the edge. Pure and explosive, her release shattered through her, the muscles in her core clamping round him, holding him now and forever. She shuddered as the tremors continued to pulse. Then his breath came in a long, satisfied groan and he stilled as he joined her in blissful paradise.
There had been few moments in Elliot's life where words failed to describe his emotion.
If fact, that was a lie.
He could think of no other time, except for now. Various words sprang to mind: elation, exaltation, lust, longing — all of them inadequate. All of them falling hopelessly short of describing the joy he felt swelling in his chest.
He glanced down at Grace. Her brilliant blue eyes were hazy with sated desire, her heavy lids revealing an inner calm. Her warm limbs were wrapped around him, enveloping him, holding him.
Hell, he could live like this forever.
But he sensed that would not be the case.
This was goodbye.
Attuned to her thoughts and feelings, he knew she intended to return to Cobham. She'd not spoken the words, but they were there in the desperate way she'd kissed him. They were evident in the way she held him so tight to her body as though they would be fused as one and as such there could be no separation.
He moved to roll off her, but she kept him anchored there.
"Not yet," came the softest, sweetest words he'd ever heard.
That was another lie. I love you had claimed that coveted prize.
Delicate fingers traced a line down his back. "Just wait a little longer."
How could he refuse?
"I'm not squashing you?" he asked just to distract his mind from a host of chaotic thoughts.
"No." She gave a low chuckle. "I like it. I like feeling close to you."
They stayed like that until a certain part of his anatomy decided otherwise. When he did roll onto his side to pull her into his arms, he realised she was asleep.
The slow rise and fall of her chest against his, the enchanting sound as she exhaled softly, would stay with him always.
It occurred to him to ask her to stay. In what capacity, he did not know. He was not likely to propose marriage. And he gave a quiet snort to show the ridiculousness of that idea. But she deserved better than to be regarded as some gentleman's lover.
There seemed to be no answer to the problem.
Had he been thinking selfishly, with his cock as opposed to his heart, he would persuade her to stay. But he could not become another Henry Denton. He would not make promises he could not keep.
What if all he felt was a more complex version of lust?
When it wore off, how would he feel about her then?
While she ignored his monstrous affliction, would the endless restrictions grate on her?
Would she grow to resent him?
Question after question bombarded his mind until it hurt to think. Gazing longingly at the woman in his arms, he kissed her tenderly on the forehead and the mouth. The selfish act being the only way to soothe him.
As soon as his lips touched hers, she kissed him back in the same gentle manner.
"I didn't mean to wake you," came yet another lie.
"I didn't mean to fall asleep." She yawned and arched her back as she stretched, her full breasts pushing against him. "I've not slept since I left you last night."
A deep sense of anguish drifted over him, and he knew he should broach the subject of Caroline and Cobham. "Has your sister said what she intends to do?"
She cuddled into him. "She wants to keep the child. She wants to return to Cobham."
He kissed the top of her head, closed his eyes and inhaled the smell of her hair. A smell unique and perfect, a scent that could not be defined. "And what will you do?"
"Caroline will need help when the child arrives. I fear she'll not cope on her own. She has never been one to embrace the practical aspects of life."
"And so you've decided to offer yourself as the sacrificial lamb once again." He knew his words held a trace of contempt and disapproval, but anger and frustration would have it no other way.
She looked up at him, tears welling. "She needs me. After all she's been through, how can I refuse? Besides, I have nowhere else to go."
Guilt slashed at his heart. "Stay here," he blurted, and from the flicker of hope in her eyes, he knew she had mistaken his intention. "Stay in London," he corrected. "Evelyn's aunt won't be back from India for months. I'm sure she won't mind if you stay there. And it will give us a chance to see how this attraction between us develops."
He wasn't surprised to find the glimmer of hope replaced with disappointment. To his own ears, it made their relationship sound superficial. As though it amounted to nothing more than a casual opportunity to ease a physical need.
"I'd like you to stay," he added. It was the best he could do.
She smiled, albeit weakly. "Perhaps placing some distance between us will help you to determine how you feel. You seem confused. I understand that. I have responsibilities you wouldn't understand."
"Pandering to your sister's whims will only make matters worse." He knew his sour mood stemmed from the pain searing his heart.
"I don't want to spend the little time I have left with you arguing about Caroline."
A low chuckle escaped from his lips. "You make it sound as though you're leaving tomorrow. But you're right. I don't want to fight with you, Grace."
She placed her palm over his heart, covering the devil's mark. "Elliot, I am leaving tomorrow."
It was as though all the air had been sucked from his body causing a huge cavernous hole to open up in his gut. He pulled her tighter to his chest and wrapped his arms around her.
"Damn it all, Grace. Must you leave so soon?"
Pulling away from him to cup his cheek, she wiggled up and brushed her lips across his, letting the tip of her tongue trace the seam. "Show me that you care, Elliot. Spend our last few hours together showing me that this meant something to you."
While he struggled to say the words she needed to hear, he had no issue conveying his emotion when it came to the pleasures of the flesh.
"I'll happily show you what you mean to me," he said feeling a burst of desire mingled with a feeling of despair.
Chapter 21
There were some things a man would never forget: the smell and softness of a woman's skin, the moment he realised a chaste kiss had the power to heal his soul. The moment he let love slip through his fingers leaving him with nothing but the bitter taste of regret.
"You're not still brooding for Mrs. Denton?" Leo slapped him on the back as they wandered through Viscount Thorpe's crowded ballroom.
"Do not call her Mrs. Denton." Elliot could hear the venom in his own voice. He knew his countenance reflected his pain and misery. "Her husband was a liar and a scoundrel. She deserves better than to carry that blackguard's name."
He sounded overly dramatic. But he refused to see Grace as any man's property.
Not even his own.
The two weeks without her had been torture. Wherever he went, whatever he did, he would catch her unique scent floating past as though carried on a summer breeze. Feeling a sudden rush of excitement, he would swing around expecting to see her face light up the room. But he was always disappointed; he was always alone.
Alexander had gone, too.
At least he understood his torment. Alexander knew what it was to love a woman with all your heart and soul.
Damnation.
Why hadn't he realised sooner?
Why had it taken the pain of separation
to come to terms with his feelings?
"Look." Elliot stopped and turned to face his friend. "I think I'll go home. There's no point me being here as my sour mood will only ruin your evening."
Leo's eyes widened. "Don't go. You promised you'd come. You promised you'd make every effort to enjoy yourself." His friend sounded like a possessive wife. "You haven't even been here for five minutes."
Elliot pulled out his pocket watch, checked the time and replaced it. "It's been twenty minutes. Trust me. That's long enough."
"What the hell's wrong with you?" Leo threw his hands up and shook his head. "So, you have feelings for Mrs. … for Grace. The way I see it, you have two choices. Run after the woman and beg for forgiveness, plead for her hand or whatever it is you want. Or find someone here tonight happy to partake in a little amorous sport. There's nothing like a pair of cushioned thighs to make one forget their woes. You taught me that."
"Then you've been taught by a man who has the logic of a donkey," he sneered.
Leo chuckled. "Perhaps the word ass is far more appropriate."
"Whether I'm a donkey or an ass, both options are out of the question."
The first option posed a problem beyond his control. Grace insisted on staying with her sister in blasted Cobham. He suddenly decided he detested the place, even though he'd only passed through there once. Grace was loyal and kind. She would not forsake someone in their hour of need.
Besides, what would he do there?
After spending a few minutes in Caroline Rosemond's company, he'd probably end up throttling the woman. Even if his patience prevailed, he'd not be able to hold his tongue. He would chastise Grace for pandering to her precious sister's fanciful notions. They would argue. He'd leave. That would be the end of it.
Bitterness and resentment were stoking the fire of his overactive imagination.
The second option was incomprehensible.
The thought of laying his hands on any other woman made him want to scrub his skin raw until it bled. The thought of tangling tongues with anyone other than Grace made him feel nauseous.
Did this mean he was destined to spend all eternity taking himself in hand?
"I think Melinda Jefferies has taken a shine to you." Leo's light-hearted banter broke his reverie. "She's giving you the look that says — lift up my skirt and take me now. Mr. Jefferies has gone abroad, and I hear she is frightfully lonely."
"Are you not tired of it all?" Elliot waved his hand about the room to show his disdain. "When all is said and done, we are alone, Leo. Do you think Melinda Jefferies will give a damn about me once I've satisfied her craving? Do you think any of them would give me a second thought if I were destitute, had a limp or a bulbous nose?"
Leo pursed his lips, but a chuckle escaped. "Forgive me. I did not mean to laugh. It's just my mind conjured an image of you having a nose so large it smothered your entire face."
"Can you not be serious for a moment?"
Leo inclined his head. "We've always known they don't give a damn. We've never given a damn, either. You have always shied away from commitment. No complications. No false promises. Isn't that what you said?"
"Then I have been a fool. One stupid enough to wear bells and entertain the king's court. I never expected to find someone who would accept our affliction. I have spent my life behaving selfishly—"
"That's simply not true." Leo contested. "You have always been there for me. Like a true brother. And without your assistance, Alexander would not be married to Evelyn. I'm certain of it."
"But don't you see," Elliot said gripping his friend's shoulder. "It is those benevolent acts that make me worthy of love. Every licentious act eradicates every decent thing I've ever done."
"If that's the case, I am doomed to live as a scoundrel."
Elliot gave a weak smile. "I have changed, Leo. And I cannot go back."
Leo sighed. "Then you have no choice but to go forward."
"You make it sound so easy. I feel as though I am teetering on a precipice. Whichever way I look, I see nothing but darkness. Nothing but doubt and uncertainty."
"One thing is certain," Leo said in a melancholic tone. "Things will never be the same. Not as they used to be. You have been my constant companion these last few years. But what will I do here without you?"
Elliot smiled. He could not sacrifice his own happiness just to keep his friend company. "Find love, Leo. Find someone who makes your heart feel light and free. Someone who loves you despite the beast that dwells inside. Only then can we claim victory over the Bavarian devil."
"That golden-haired snake has done this," he suddenly blurted with a level of vehemence that surprised him. "You're afraid. You're afraid of being alone because of your affliction. I swear, if she were here I would not stop until I'd made her pay for what she's done to us."
Elliot cast a sympathetic smile. "The only thing I'm afraid of is losing Grace. I'm in love with her. I will wait a lifetime for her if need be. I'm not interested in anyone or anything else. But we will always be brothers. My home is your home. Nothing can break the connection or the bond that exists between us. Yes, we have paid dearly for those nights in Bavaria. But we have gained something precious in the process. Friendship and love and loyalty. Qualities I may never have possessed had it not been for our terrible affliction."
In the crowded ballroom, Leo threw his arms around him. "Then you must go to Cobham, my friend." He pulled away and grasped Elliot's upper arms. "You must fight for your love as you fought to save me, as you fought for Alexander and Evelyn."
Elliot felt a wave of sadness wash over him. "What will you do?"
"I shall do as you suggest. I do have something in mind," Leo replied cryptically. "I too must have a purpose. And when I have achieved my objective, I shall come visit you, wherever that may be. Now, get yourself off home and leave me to drown my sorrows between Melinda Jefferies' padded thighs."
Elliot grinned, but then the corners of his mouth drooped. "You will be alright? Tell me you'll not satisfy your thirst on the Season's most coveted debutante?"
Leo waved him away. "I'm over that. I have my sights set on a much great prize. But I'll tell you more when I see you next."
A sudden sense of foreboding flared, but Elliot pushed it aside believing it stemmed from his reluctance to say goodbye. "We will see each other soon," he said to reassure himself more than Leo. "Wish me luck."
"You don't need it. Grace loves you. I heard the words from her own lips. I could feel it radiate from her like a beacon."
"I pray you're right."
After embracing Leo once more, Elliot left Viscount Thorpe's ball with a renewed sense of optimism. Before leaving for Stony Cross, Evelyn had told him of Grace's love for the countryside. She had intimated he could spend his time between London and Yorkshire. Hell, the staff at Moorscroft would have a fit of apoplexy if he informed them he intended to take up residency. Some adjustments would need to be made. With any luck, Grace would help him deal with the traumas associated with his affliction.
As he climbed into his carriage, two questions pushed to the fore.
Would Grace consent to be his wife?
Would she choose love over loyalty?
Chapter 22
"I swear, no matter what I eat it all tastes awfully strange," Caroline said turning her nose up at her dinner. She pushed the plate away with a look of disgust. "Unless it's fish. Yet that makes my stomach grumble so loud it sounds like there's a bear trapped inside."
Grace glanced at their mother, pleased that she had decided to sit with them this evening. Since returning home after tending to her infirm aunt, she had been distant, far too quiet. Caroline's news had come as a huge shock and a bitter disappointment, not that her sister cared. Caroline had no shame and went out of her way to mention her condition at every opportunity.
Indeed, her sister's constant complaining was beginning to grate.
"It's as though cook has sprinkled a thousand iron filings over the beef and all I ca
n taste is gritty metal," Caroline continued. She glanced across at Grace. "You're quiet this evening. Are you going to tell us all what's wrong?"
Grace feigned surprise as she had no intention of discussing her dilemma with anyone. "Wrong? Nothing is wrong. I am perfectly fine. The beef tastes like beef and so what have I to complain about."
Caroline narrowed her gaze until her eyes were but beady round holes. "You've not been yourself of late. If something is troubling you, you only need say." Her hand flew to her chest. She stuck out her tongue and grimaced as though she'd been foolish enough to suck on a slice of lemon. "Oh, it's revolting."
"Caroline," their mother said by way of a reprimand. "Must you behave so crudely when we're seated at the table?"
Caroline inclined her head. "Forgive me. I'm sure I shall get used to it."
Grace brought her napkin to her lips, which was an excuse to smell the sandalwood shaving soap she'd rubbed into the skin on the inside of her wrists.
As she inhaled deeply, an image of Elliot flooded her mind. Her heart swelled with love, her soul cried out in anguish.
She could cope in the daytime.
Caroline kept her busy, demanding to bathe every morning and evening, wanting her hair brushed a hundred times, convinced it was the only way to prevent it losing its lustre.
Grace didn't have the strength to argue. Her body moved in a series of mechanical motions yet some fundamental part of her was missing. A part of her still dwelled in London, in a bedchamber in Portman Square.
The nights were an entirely different matter.
The nights were unbearable. Sleep eluded her. Even when she did manage to drift off, Elliot bombarded her dreams with his handsome face and witty remarks. The pain upon waking — only to realise it had all been a figment of her wild imagination — was often worse than the pain of living with the knowledge she had lost her one true love.
