Romancing the Past

by Darcy Burke

  "Good evening, Timothy. It is nice to see you again." His wife's rich voice filled the room.

  "Ye may go. See that yer father doesn't need anythin' before ye go help in the stables."

  A pause indicated to Devon the young man would have liked nothing more than to bypass one of the two chores, but decided not to argue. "Yes, Mum. Have a good evenin' Mrs. R."

  "You as well, Timothy," Ella replied with a smile in her voice. Devon could still hear in her voice the fatigue pulling on her.

  "Such a good boy, that one. All right, here ye be. I was dreadfully worried ye had come to a bad end this evening, gel." The older woman said as she came into sight. He still couldn't see Ella. "I know ye didn't request it, but I had the lads bring in the tub and fill it with good hot water. There's nothing like a good soak to cure travel weary bones."

  "Oh, Mrs. Borrik, you shouldn't have gone to any trouble. But, I have to confess, it looks rather inviting. Thank you."

  "Don't even think on it, gel, you just get yourself into that hot water and rest. I'll send one of the gels to tend you in the morning. The usual time?"

  "Yes, that would be fine." Ella stepped into his view as she walked past the tub and placed a small traveling bag on the stool next to the dressing screen. "I would inquire as to the letting of this room for tomorrow as well. I know I only wrote ahead about tonight, but I do not wish to be in the dark on my return trip. I have to admit to you I have been awfully busy as of late, and I fear it is catching me. I do not believe I can make this trip again on the morrow."

  "It is yours, gel. Now, hop into that bath, use some of those scented oils on the table, and just let your body rest." The woman took Ella's hand and gave it a motherly pat, then turned to go, closing the door behind her.

  Ella picked up her bag, turned and made her way out of Devon's sight to the bed. Straining to listen, he heard the linen shift as she sat to take off her traveling boots. Devon heard each in turn hit the floor. His mouth went dry. He had assumed Ella would be too virtuous not to use a screen when one was in place, but then none of his mistresses ever had second thoughts about undressing out in the open. This was not his mistress; it was Ella. An Ella he didn't know existed, but one he would like to be introduced to.

  With no warning, a very naked Ella walked into view. His gut clenched sending white-hot desire to his groin. She had a bottle of scented oil and poured it into the steaming water. The smell of lavender assailed his senses. His vision on the other hand was filled with Ella.

  God, she was beautiful. Had he ever seen a more petite fragile looking woman? Bending to test the water, she gave him a perfect view of her arse and hips. His hands tingled in remembered caresses. He noticed the swell of her hips was more rounded. Not overly so by any means, but enough so he noticed. She turned to pluck a piece of linen from the nearby stool placing it closer. This view was just as delectable. Her stomach where once it had been flat, gave way to a softness accentuating her rounded hips. Again, he approved. She was too thin by far four years ago.

  Now, after giving birth, her body had blossomed into a siren's. Her breasts, still pert but a bit larger and fuller rounded out the image of his perfect wife, the mother of his child. The thought of Ella giving him a child seized his lungs and tightened around his heart. His child. He was brought back the sound of water lapping the edge of the tub. At that moment, Devon could have expired from the lust boiling through his veins. The urge to touch her was so strong he caught himself just before he pushed the door open, almost giving away his hiding place. So drawn was he to her sensual form that his heart beat so loud in his ears he was sure she would hear.

  Ella graceful as ever stepped into the tub and slid under the still steaming water. Damn her. To add to the effect she let out a hearty sigh of pleasure as she let her head fall back against the tub. Devon could almost taste the steam in the air. His chosen hideout closed in around him. He wanted to move. Muscles were beginning to react in grievance to his current position. At that moment, she slid her way down until her head was under water. Taking the opportunity, he stretched as best he could and shifted so his legs were more comfortable.

  In agony, Devon watched his wife, unaware of her audience as she went about the business of removing the road grime which comes with travel. He was like a child watching someone eating a cake he could not indulge in. As Ella ran the soap over her long leg, he had to swallow a groan. For the one hundredth time in the last ten minutes, he waged a war within. What would she do if he were to show himself? Would she ask him to join her?

  He would rip his clothes from his body, and hurt himself getting into the tub. Another groan rose to his throat, but again he forced it down.

  What had happened? He was the one always in control. He never had times when he couldn't control himself, or his thoughts.

  Ella was the problem.

  For some reason, when she was involved, his steely control vacated his being. Left behind was a beast living off his senses. If he didn't gain control, he might ruin his chances right now. Not to mention prove Clive correct in his estimations. Devon closed his eyes, taking deep breaths until his feeling of control returned, if not in full force, at least in part. Opening his eyes, he spied Ella still lounging in the tub, now with her head against the high back, her hair falling off the edge in silken shimmering stands. Droplets of water rolled along the slippery tresses falling to the floor. Her eyes were closed. She looked almost content. He watched for what seemed like an eternity without as much as a movement. She was asleep.

  Blasted wonderful.

  Now he was stuck until she woke. What if she didn't wake until morning?

  Devon had to do something. If she spent the night in a cold bath, since the water would have cooled by now, she might very well catch a chill, or at the very least be sore tomorrow. Then a worse thought sprang to mind. If she stayed asleep, she might slip under the water and drown. He had a vague memory of trying to wake when she first moved to the Tate. He could have shot a pistol in the room, and he was sure she would have slept through it. Very cautiously, he swung the door of the wardrobe open enough to step out. As he did, every muscle in his body protested. Wardrobes were not made to be hiding places for fully-grown men.

  Ella never moved. She slept like the dead.

  Now what?

  If he woke her, she would thrash him within an inch of his life. He already knew he couldn't leave her, so his only option, wasn't this wonderful, was to try to move her without waking her.

  Sighing, Devon stepped over to the stool and stripped off his waistcoat, cravat, and shirt. He would no doubt be as wet as she was when he finished. Cool air abraded his already sensitive skin. First order of business was to stoke the fire back to a comforting blaze. Then standing over his sleeping wife, he knew this would no doubt be the hardest thing he had ever done. Was this how knights of old felt? Unlucky blighters! He was about to take his clean smelling, wet, not to mention naked wife out of the bath, dry her body with his own hands and not be able to do more than kiss her on the cheek and leave. What crime would a man have to do to endure such torture?

  He watched her sleeping for a moment longer. Not two weeks ago, he thought her dead. The power of it hit him like an anvil to his chest. His throat caught and he felt the distinct sting of what would not become tears abrade his eyes. It was almost more than he could bear. He never let himself mourn her. Never.

  He had convinced himself it was her choice to leave, as it is every woman's, and he would not mourn someone he had never loved. The ignorance of his words then, stung today. The emotion hammered to come forth. If he allowed it, he knew the sob that would be wrenched from his soul would wake her and scare him to his core. Devon swallowed his pent up emotions and ignored the one lone tear that meandered down his cheek while he bent to tend to his very much alive wife.

  Hands shaking, Devon reached into the tub and under Ella's back and legs. Her soft body molded to his embrace. He closed his eyes praying for some of that control. In one smooth m
otion, he straightened with his still sleeping wife in his arms. The water sloshed and splashed covering him. She nuzzled closer, cradling her head in the crook of his neck. The water clinging to her was cool, but her body was warm and lush. The softness of her skin against his own, like satin against wool warmed him, and made him aware of just how delicate she was, regardless of what she would say to the contrary. He made his way with ease to the bench in front of the hearth close to the fire. He set to drying her, starting with her shoulders and arms, making his way down her body.

  He understood her weariness. Only a person with true exhaustion would sleep through such an intimate encounter. It scared him a little to think she could sleep through this onslaught. Once done, he could only reach his shirt to cover her now dried body. He ran his hand down her dripping hair to take some of the water out of it. The tenderness of the moment rocked him. It was the most innocent touch he had given, but it was the one that rocked him. Never had he put himself in the position to care for another with so much thoroughness.

  Devon sat holding Ella to him. He rubbed his hand along the soft skin of her arm. How had he survived four years without her in his life? Had he actually told everyone who would listen, he was better off? At this moment, he knew he would never be able to let her go. In this moment, he understood his father.

  Shaken by what he could only call an addiction to this woman sleeping in his arms, he decided he needed a better plan. He couldn't depend on the hope of her falling in love with him because, it was too risky. He had to think of a way to convince her, without appearing the lovesick pup that, she would be better off in London with him.

  A shiver slid through her translucent skin before she snuggled closer to his bare chest.

  "Mmm, Devon," she mumbled in her sleep. To hear his name slip from her lips while she dreamed was almost his undoing. At the same time, the fear of her waking and finding him with her in his arms seized his lungs. He froze, not breathing until she settled back down and began to snore softly in his lap.

  He reached into her bag and came up with her nightdress, deciding time was at a premium if he wanted to get her to bed without her knowing. Devon managed to slide it over her head and around her shoulders covering her perfect body. Once home in London, he would make sure he had every night rail she owned burned. He wanted her naked in his bed. No barriers.

  His current plan was to get her settled in bed, fix the fire again, and slip out the way he came. Devon needed time away to think and contemplate his next step. Standing with her in his arms and noting that she weighed no more than a feather, he walked to the bed. Ella snuggled into the depths of the fresh linens and pillows. Leaving was imperative, but not just yet. He took the chair and sat, not ready to break the spell.

  Lying in the darkness, covered by the voluminous blankets, his wife looked frail and innocent, not to mention delectable. Since their reunion, Devon had not had the opportunity just to watch Ella until tonight. In fact, he could only recall a few times he indulged in the sport of watching the whirlwind that was his wife. This— this was a novelty. She lay sideways facing him. Only moments ago, she had been sprawled on her back with one delicate arm raised over her head, resting on a pillow of pale hair. Now, both hands were tucked together under one rosy cheek. A perfect complexion, save the dark circles ringing large doe eyes. Even the long, thick lashes kissing her cheeks were not enough to hide the signs of fatigue. His hands lay palms down on his thighs. The need to touch the fine skin made them tingle. Fix the fire and leave, he reminded himself.

  Devon leaned over the bed as he began to rise out of the chair. At the same moment, Ella moaned, reaching for the blankets that she pulled into a bundle near her body, cradling it in her arms. Sighing with contentment, she settled back in but Devon noticed, a wrinkle of worry furrowing her brow. Her thoughts, it would appear, were not as slumberous as he thought. Sighing, he was lost to more than just this one night. He settled back into the very straight, very uncomfortable chair to deal with his stiff joints, and his growing desire. He was beginning to understand how a man like his father would suffer all those years alone with just the slimmest hope his love would return. For this woman's love, Devon would spend an eternity in hell if she asked.

  It was going to be a long night.

  Chapter 5

  Gulls squawked overhead, dropping from the air, plucking a nice, fat fish from the barrels lining the docks. The briny scent of the sea mingled with the exotic spices and warmth of the sunshine to add color and texture to the normal dankness of the harbor. No matter how many times Ella came to shop here on the docks, she never got used to the contrast.

  It would probably be easier, not to mention safer, for a woman to shop at the local merchants. She always used the practical reasoning that she needn't pay the exorbitant amount the merchants charged, when she could shop right off the ships just like those very shop owners. The prices were exceptional and she could compare the quality as well.

  Her true motive was much less practical. Growing up in London, Ella loved the diversity she could witness. Not as sheltered as her more affluent counterparts, she had more freedom. She staunchly maintained that she disliked everything about the Ton to anyone who might ask, but as a girl and later as the wife of a Viscount, she dreamed of being welcomed into the world she was never quite allowed. She would spend her time instead, wandering around the different parts of London experiencing as much life as she could.

  Now, holed up in a tiny Scottish village, she missed it. She loved the bakery and all the people who accepted her without question when she needed it most, but this was her time. She was a million miles away from her daily drudgery, her responsibilities of a mother. The other thing her trip this time took her from was Devon. Was it a good happenstance or not? That remained to be seen.

  The one smirch on her otherwise welcome diversion was her two o'clock meeting to exchange what the blackmailers called a 'partial payment' for more instructions. She likened it to a twisted game of treasure hunt, where the player had to pay for the next clue. The problem was this particular player didn't care to find the end. Ella was getting a sinking feeling it would not be a fortuitous last hand.

  Two o'clock was still many hours away and there was shopping to be done. From inside her satchel she extracted a small, well-worn notepad and a small pencil. Glancing at the entries from her last trip, she added a new date and column to record all the ships and their current prices. As she made her way down the long dock, her mind drifted to the events of the previous day.

  Her trip yesterday was by far the most difficult she had ever taken. When she reached the safety of the inn, she all but cried. She never would have asked for a bath at such a late hour, but reminded herself to leave a very generous amount on top of her normal payment. She had not slept so well in a very long time. It still niggled, however, as to how she managed to get from the bath to her bed with no memory of it. True, there were many nights when she first took over the bakery that she didn't remember crawling into bed from exhaustion. That could explain last night's events. She had a memory of Devon as well, but since her dreams had been tormented by the blasted man, and his strong body and compelling stare since he had stepped back into her life, she was certain it was just more of the same, school girl wishes.

  Ella would have dismissed her unease had it not been for the chair placed next to her bed when she woke. She wasn't sure what woke her, but something had. When she jolted awake, she noted the chair. When she rose from the bed, she had to move the chair to get around it. The embroidered seat and back were still warm as if someone had just vacated it. Had she slept so soundly that, one of her unknown enemies had entered her room and sat watching her undeterred? Not behavior an independent woman would want to admit.

  "Here, Miss, I av' the best exotics on the wharf," shouted one scraggly looking man.

  "Naw, all 'e's got is moldy bread. Now, if ye want quality, ye trot right over 'ere."

  "Thank you, gentlemen," Ella said with a genuine smile.
"I make it a point to check all that is available to make certain I am getting the best price. I will keep you both in mind." She moved with confident strides. Eric would be no more than twenty yards away when she looked back. Before, she had tried to convince him she did not need him following her. Today, however, she was thankful for his presence.

  "How are you, miss?" The next captain asked in a respectful tone. As Ella reached him, the baskets and barrels spoke to her of far off places and adventure. Each had been ordered with care and was overflowing with abundance. She looked to her pad to check the name of the boat. Finding it, she turned to the captain.

  "I am fine, Captain, thank you. I see your travels have been successful," she answered while mingling around the many items for sale. Even though her journey had been for her usual spices and other ingredients, she couldn't help when a beautiful silk wrap caught her eye. It was an explosion of colors, and giving over to the urge, she let it slip through her fingers. It was warm from the sun and felt like water caressing her palm.

  "It would look magnificent on you, miss. Go ahead, try it," the older man urged, hoping to add the expensive shawl to his sale.

  Ella laughed, "I am afraid, sir, trying it on would be all I would be able to do. I do not have the funds to own something so decadent." As the last word slipped from her lips, she spied something else. "Oh, this is simply adorable! Where did it come from?" The wooden elephant was heavy in her hand when she picked it up, with shimmering sapphire eyes, and ivory tusks, complete with a woven basket ready for a child's doll to take a grand safari.

  "India, miss. I had gotten it for my niece, but I am afraid I will not be seeing her until she is much too old for it."

  Closing her eyes, Ella could see Maddie's face light up with excitement. "How much?" She asked before she thought better of it.

  "Five pounds."

  "Oh," she gasped. "Well, I am sure the child who it goes to will love it." She turned, putting the toy to her back, thus out of her mind, replacing it with a pang of frustration at the amount she would be parting with later. "So, what have you this trip?" Getting right back to business. Better not to dwell on what she couldn't have because that would lead to self-pity, and that was something Ella couldn't afford.