Chapter 24
Damien had resolved upon a scheme to stop Ellie from leaving him. It was a dastardly objective, considering that he’d already abducted her, ruined her good name, and compelled her into a marriage that she didn’t want. He knew exactly what she had always envisioned for her future. Before the first time they had made love at the castle, she had stated her wishes in no uncertain terms: After twelve years in my uncle’s house, I’ve had my fill of tending to the demands of other people. I want to live on my own without any entanglements.
He yanked off his cravat and threw it onto a chair in the semidarkness of his bedchamber. How could he even think of thwarting her dream of living alone in some blasted cottage? Yet he couldn’t just let her go, either. He was not a gentleman who could politely stand by while the love of his life made plans to move out of his house forever.
Frowning into the gloom, he shrugged out of his coat. Was it love? Was that the appropriate term for the mawkish, heart-melting sentiment that she stirred in him? He felt cast adrift in uncharted waters. Never before had he known such a strong desire to protect a woman, to hold her close, to talk and laugh with her.
And to make love to her. Which was what he intended to do tonight. If Ellie would allow him.
The waistcoat came off next. As he tossed it onto the chair, it slid onto the floor along with his other discarded garments. Finn would have a conniption tomorrow when he found the crumpled heap of clothing. No doubt the old man also would make a ribald comment or two about why Damien had been so quick to dismiss him for the night.
On second thought, he grabbed the clothes and went to hang them on hooks in the dressing room. Here, the light of a single candle cast his elongated shadow over the connecting door. He couldn’t discern any sounds coming from the adjoining chamber. According to his pocket watch, it was a minute shy of ten o’clock, and he wasn’t sure Ellie was even still awake.
He had meant to return home sooner from Demon’s Den, but there had been several issues that had required his attention, a dispute to be tactfully settled between two gentlemen who’d been about to come to blows over who had rights to a certain chair, and a complaint to resolve with the finicky French chef who threatened to quit at least once a week. Then there had been the usual invitations from club members to partake in a shot of brandy or a glass of port, to join in a debate over who owned the finest horseflesh or which Covent Garden actress might be amenable to a tryst.
On any other night, he’d have made it his business to move among the smoky throngs of aristocrats, playing a few hands of vingt-et-un, tossing the dice in a game of hazard, building friendships and camaraderie. By now, everyone knew that he’d married Pennington’s niece. Most had accepted his word that it had been a secret elopement due to the earl’s disapproval of the match. Only a few malcontents had dared to reference the sordid story being bandied about by the gossips, that his intention had been to dishonor Ellie.
Those Damien had silenced with a cold stare. He had made it clear he would kill any man who dared to cast a slur upon his wife. No one, thank God, realized that it had been an abduction gone awry, a mistake that had turned out to be the luckiest move of his misbegotten life.
Other than begetting Lily, of course.
Sitting down on a stool, Damien tugged off his boots. He debated whether or not to strip down to the buff and don a dressing gown, then decided that that would make his intentions too obvious. Ellie needed to be wooed and enticed. He would have to employ all of his charm to coax her into making love.
Especially given the way he’d chastised her earlier in the day.
He could still feel a blow of shock at hearing Lily’s voice in Ellie’s chambers. He had stepped silently into the doorway to see his daughter cuddled in Ellie’s lap on the chair, their two heads bent together, one golden, the other red. He had stood there, frozen in place, listening to Ellie read her story.
They were not supposed to look so perfect together. They were not supposed to intermingle at all. He had warned Ellie to stay away from his daughter. He had believed her to be perceptive enough to see the harm in seeking out any association with the motherless girl. Then had come their short conversation.
May I call you mama?
Of course you may.
A cold fury had gripped him. Ellie should have known to refuse the request. She should have recognized the danger of it at once. Instead, she had embraced his vulnerable daughter and encouraged Lily to believe that she finally had a real mother. And all the while, Ellie was intending to walk out of the girl’s life in a matter of weeks.
He’d had difficulty containing his rage in front of Lily. And he had spoken sharply to Ellie on the stairs, when Lily had run ahead of them. Ellie’s remorse had hit him hard. There had been tears in her eyes before she’d turned her head away. From her halting words, he gathered that she had granted his daughter’s request out of an impulsive desire to make Lily happy.
She, too, had fallen under Lily’s spell. He knew exactly what that was like because he battled it all the time, the urge to indulge Lily simply because she was so adorable. How could he remain angry at Ellie when she clearly felt a strong affection for his daughter?
Yet there was still the problem of Lily referring to Ellie as “mama,” which Lily had proudly done at every opportunity. He’d known that his daughter would only be confused and unhappy if he’d tried to correct her. And then, while they had been drinking tea around that miniature table, he had been struck by the obvious solution.
The three of them together made a real family, the family that he had always craved in the deepest part of himself. Ellie blended in perfectly with them. She had contributed to their silly, child-centered conversation as if she belonged with them.
And in that moment, he had vowed to do everything in his power to win her heart. So that she would never leave him. No, them. He was doing this as much for Lily as himself.
Rising from the stool, he blew out the candle. He had contrived an excellent reason to pay a private visit to Ellie in her bedchamber. He needed to speak to her on an important matter that had occurred to him belatedly in regard to hearing her read that storybook aloud.
Once they had that issue settled, he would find a way to turn things in an erotic direction. He would have to proceed carefully in order to overcome her resistance to the marriage. But he hoped to succeed in the end. Ellie was an incredibly sensual woman. God help him, he wanted to spend the rest of his life making love to her.
He went to the connecting door and quietly turned the handle. And if she was already asleep in her bed? So much the better. Then there would be no need for talking at all.
* * *
Ellie made another aimless circuit of her shadowed bedchamber. The air was chilly despite the fire burning on the hearth, and she wore a sapphire-blue shawl over her white lawn nightdress. Her feet were bare on the plush carpet, but she scarcely noticed the cold. She was too caught up in her own thoughts.
There had been no sound from next door all evening. Damien was away at his club and wouldn’t return home until late into the night. She had discerned his habits by asking casual questions of her maid about the household schedule. Like clockwork, she’d learned, he went out in the morning each day, returning home in late afternoon to take tea with his daughter in the nursery; then he left again for his club, staying out until the wee hours.
The ormolu clock on the mantel quietly dinged the hour of ten. Ellie had resolved to stay awake until her husband came home. But now the endless evening stretched out, and she was feeling bored and drowsy. She had given up on sketching a while ago, unable to keep her distracted mind on her work. If she sat in her bed to read by candlelight, she feared to nod off to sleep and not awaken until morning.
Glancing at the darkened dressing room, she smothered a yawn. Did she dare to venture into Damien’s chambers? Perhaps she should slip into his bed to await his return. Yes! That was the perfect solution. Then it wouldn’t matter if she dozed off. He would find her snuggled beneath his covers at whatever time he came home.
And that was the whole point, anyway. To be with him in bed. To let him know that she regretted all that coldhearted nonsense about not allowing him the rights of a husband. To tell him there was no reason for them not to enjoy the benefits of marriage during the few weeks that she would be here.
And then he would draw her into his arms and do all those wonderful things to her again. He would kiss her and caress her and press himself inside of her. The very thought of it caused a ripple of excitement to flow through her body.
Ellie picked up the candlestick from the bedside table. Cupping her hand around the tiny flame, she started toward her dressing room and the connecting door that led to his bedchamber. She was almost there when she discerned a movement in the black rectangle of the doorway.
Her heart jumped. Her breath caught in a startled gasp. In the next instant, the tall figure of a man stepped into her bedchamber.
Her hand went to her bosom to clutch at the folds of her shawl. “Damien! Why are you here? Why aren’t you still at your club?”
She noticed at once that he had shed his coat and cravat. He wore only a loose white shirt and dark breeches. Like hers, his feet were bare. His proximity made her keenly aware of the intimate, shadowed bedchamber and her own state of undress.
Her pulse beat quickened. Was it possible that … he had come here in the hopes of charming her into bed?
“I returned home early so that we could have a private talk,” he said smoothly. “I trust you won’t mind if we do?”
Taking her by the arm, he led Ellie over to one of the chairs by the hearth and bade her sit. He plucked the candlestick from her nerveless fingers and placed it on the mantel. The fire hissed gently on the grate as he settled himself into the chair opposite hers.
His formal manner was daunting. He wouldn’t have seated them apart if he’d had seduction on his mind. The sight of his austere features in the firelight brought back the memory of her dreadful gaffe. He must mean to rebuke her more thoroughly now that they were alone and he could speak freely.
Gripping the edges of her shawl, she leaned forward to convince him of her sincerity. “Damien, please know that I’m very sorry about what happened this afternoon. You’re right, I should never have allowed Lily to call me mama. I don’t know what came over me—”
“Lily came over you, that’s what. She has a way of winding a person around her little finger.” His mouth curled into a slight smile. “But never mind that. It isn’t why I’m here.”
“No?”
“No, although I will allow that the topic is related.” His green-gray eyes took on a narrowed intensity. “When I first spied Lily sitting in that chair with you, I was angry. So angry that I didn’t stop to consider something. You were reading to her from your storybook. Which means that you must have gone to Pennington House today to fetch the manuscript.”
Ellie nodded cautiously. “You’re right, I did. This morning I paid a call on my uncle and grandmother. I thought they should know straightaway that I was safe. And that you and I had been married.”
He raised a stern eyebrow. “And did you never stop to think that I should have been with you? That perhaps you ought not to have faced them alone? That you might have asked me to accompany you?”
“You weren’t at home,” she countered. “And you’d expressed no desire to meet my family, anyway. Besides, I just wanted to get the interview over with and done.”
She stared defiantly at him, and after a moment, his taut expression relaxed into a wry smile. “All right, I concede your point. I wasn’t here, and there’s nothing to be done about it now, anyway. So tell me about this visit. What did Pennington have to say?” Damien must have seen the hesitation in her face, for he added, “I want to know every last syllable. And that pertains to your grandmother, too. Don’t leave anything out.”
Ellie supposed he had a right to hear it all—or at least most of it—so she related her uncle’s unwelcoming manner, his scorn of her marriage, and his belief that Damien had only wed her to further his ambitions. She said that the earl and her grandmother had both been shocked to learn that Lady Milford had traveled all the way to Scotland on Ellie’s behalf. The only details she left out were the peculiar silent exchanges she’d noticed between her uncle and his mother. She had a suspicion that there had been conversations in private in which harsh, unfair criticisms had been leveled against her. It was dispiriting even to think about their biased opinion of her.
Damien watched her closely, a tight-lipped look on his face. “And Walt? Did you speak to him, too?”
“No, apparently he’s left London. My uncle has banished him to the country for a time. He was furious to find out that Walt had been gambling at your club, that he’d incurred a debt to you.”
“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 wish 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 na?vely 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.