“You could have woken one of my sisters to do this.”
It was very late, almost two in the morning, and the children had long ago retired. The merriment of the day had long since left, but their charade had to continue. There wasn’t a person under his roof who would say tomorrow that the mister and his wife weren’t blissfully happy as they shared a bed for the wedding night.
“It’s a husband’s duty to undress his wife.”
She gulped. He felt it, heard it, wished he could recall his words and use another. Instead he elaborated. It had to be said. His spine would snap from the tension if he didn’t finally say what was on his mind. “I won’t take from you what you don’t freely give.”
“What if I never freely give it?”
Darius sighed as the dress sagged to reveal pale skin and sharp bones. He stepped away. “Let us hope that does not come to pass.” He tried to add a smile as she turned but it may have appeared more a grimace.
“Do you think I will like it?”
This time he choked and had to move away to pour himself a drink as his eyes filled with moisture. “Like what?”
“The marriage act?” Her gown dropped to the ground as she approached him wearing nothing more than a corset, shift and petticoat.
He wondered why she came closer but then she took the glass from his hands and gulped down the liquid with a delicate little cough. She may be weak in muscle but she was strong with determination.
“You have had more than enough,” he told her as he snatched back the glass.
“Father was right about that, you know. Liquid courage he called it.” She threw her arms out and twirled on the spot. “I feel fabulous.”
“You won’t come morning,” he assured her as he put the rest of the bottle out of sight. She was well on her way to becoming completely foxed.
When she next held onto the bedpost so he could unlace her corset, Darius had to draw on his strength and control. He began to count in his head how many months, perhaps years, had passed since he’d been this close to a nearly naked female. The number he came up with made him groan. No wonder he was nearly as hard as the carved post.
“Should we just do it and get it out of the way?” came the question he dreaded, the question that made his stomach drop. A giggle followed as the corset was thrown across the room to land behind a chair.
“You are very drunk,” he told her. What he wanted to tell her was that he would probably break her. How could she have become so slight without her siblings noticing how her gowns hung from her gaunt frame? But by God, she was still a sight to behold in her threadbare shift, impossibly soft and almost translucent from years of use. The outline of her breasts called to him. He didn’t dare drop his gaze any lower.
“I am?”
“That feeling of fabulous won’t last beyond tonight, Eliza. If we were to ‘get it out of the way,’ you would hate yourself, and me, in the morning.” He couldn’t believe those words were coming out of his mouth. Take your hands off her, his mind screamed. But his fingers wouldn’t obey and continued to stroke the bare expanse of her upper arms.
“So you think I will hate it?”
He groaned again. “We should not even be discussing it. It is time for bed. Things will be clearer in the morning.”
“No they won’t. Things will be much worse in the morning.”
“Why do you say that?” he asked.
She yawned and shrugged. “It’s what happens in my life. Each day only gets worse than the one before.”
When she turned to get into his bed, without him, the sadness in her eyes physically hurt him. He wanted her to have good days, only good days from now until the end of her days. He took her by the shoulders. Her expression was one of shock but at least the melancholy vanished. “I’m going to try to make you happy, Eliza.”
“How?”
“I don’t know yet.” He sighed and pressed his mouth to hers. He didn’t linger, didn’t promise any more than this one kiss but when he pulled away she wore a vibrant smile and pressed her fingers to her lips.
“It tingles,” she murmured.
He forced a smile. “Into bed with you now.” He’d meant what he’d said. He wouldn’t take what she didn’t offer and especially not while she was three sheets to the wind.
Though her idea of getting it out of the way had merit, he wouldn’t do that to her. He couldn’t. It was the hardest thing he’d done yet, to tuck her in and press one more kiss to those adorable lips.
Actually, scratch that. The hardest thing was Darius as he dropped onto a bedroll on the floor and willed his body and his mind to calm.
“Good night, husband.”
He gritted his teeth. “Good night, wife.”
Chapter Fourteen
Harold Meddington sat back in his chair and regarded his father through eyes that were scratchy and red from days riding against wind and sleet and snow. “I’m telling you, Penfold isn’t anywhere.”
The Earl of Wickham slammed his tankard down on the scarred tabletop, cheap, watered ale sloshing over the edges to join the filth already marring the uneven surface. “He has to be somewhere. Men like him don’t just disappear into thin air.”
Harold had been playing with a concept for the last few days of the torturous ride to Bath but was hesitant to raise the subject with his father. If he was right, they were both completely fucked. Screwed to the wall by all they owed money to. And that number was very high, both the dollar amount and the list of names. They’d be lucky to still be standing at the end of
