Read Despised & Desired: The Marquess' Passionate Wife Page 20


  The burden of their trust weighed heavily on Ellie’s heart. What if she couldn’t? Not only would she lose Frederick herself, but he would be lost to others as well.

  What was she to do?

  Chapter Twenty-Eight – A Cloak of Darkness

  Staring out the window of his study, Frederick forced his anger back under control. Taking slow breaths, one after the other, he tried to calm his racing heart as it thudded in his chest. His hands linked behind his back, his shoulders tensed with each breath that left his body and again when his lungs once more filled with air.

  All the while, the darkening sky spoke to his soul in a strange way.

  Although the day had started out promising, everything had come crashing down around him. Despite the anger still boiling in his veins, Frederick tried to remind himself that it had not been Oliver’s fault. His friend had merely pointed out his own shortcomings, dragged his inability to function in normal society into the light of day, his inability to love and trust.

  Frederick knew that he was not the man he used to be. He also knew that he never would be again. The war and everything around it had changed him, and deep down, he had come to accept that.

  Only those around him−his family, his friend and his wife−could not see the truth. They clung to the hope that with time he would return to them, that someday he would wake up and realise that everything had only been a bad dream.

  However, that would never happen.

  Taking a deep breath, Frederick knew what he had to do. Despite Oliver’s threats, he could not abandon his chosen course for he knew it to be the right one. If he stayed, the darkness within his heart would ultimately poison all those around him, and eventually, they would come to resent him for it. If he left, however, they would mourn him for a little while−the way they mourned his father and brother−but then they would dry their tears, and a smile would return to their faces.

  And so he would leave.

  The only thing left to do was to father an heir to ensure his family’s future.

  Frederick swallowed, knowing that his wife’s touch proved the greatest danger to his mind’s determination. Only if he could suppress all sense of affection and intimacy, only when the veil of detachment hung closely around him, distancing him from her, could he touch her and not have her affect him, not have her sway him from his path.

  For his family’s sake, he had to try.

  ***

  Sitting at her vanity, brushing out her hair, Ellie stared at her own reflection. Her eyes, however, remained distant, the rhythmic movement of her hand, brush stroke for brush stroke, soothing her heart.

  Again, her mind conjured the moment her hand had brushed against Frederick’s, and the scene unfolded before her eyes.

  A few days ago after supper, they had risen from their chairs to return to the drawing room for some entertainment. Maryann and Mathilda had been practising a duet on the pianoforte for days, which they wished to share with their family that evening.

  When they had filed through the doorway to the drawing room, Theresa had stopped in her tracks, turning back to Wilton, asking to have her shawl brought down. As she had stepped aside, Ellie had come to a halt as well, wondering if something was wrong. She had meant to lift her hand and place it on Theresa’s arm to enquire after her well-being when Frederick had approached.

  The moment her hand had come up, his had been right beside her, and the instant, her skin had touched his, a jolt had gone through them both.

  Meeting his eyes, Ellie had felt his stare to the very core of her being. Her hand had tingled with anticipation, and her heart had thudded in her chest, making her catch her breath. Frederick had looked equally affected before a hint of displeasure, of disappointment had come to his eyes. Not with her, but rather with himself.

  Without a word, he had walked away, not even excusing his absence.

  Since then, he had kept to his study. When they happened to meet, he was always polite, always cordially enquiring after her sensitivities, but the connection she had felt before had been gone as though it had never been.

  Disheartened, Ellie had spent the last few days walking the halls of Elmridge alone. More than once, Theresa and Maryann had enquired after her, but Ellie did not know what to say. Only too well did she understand what Frederick was doing. He was shutting himself off from her, from everyone. What she didn’t know was what she could do to prevent it.

  When the sun had finally disappeared behind the horizon, Ellie still sat at her vanity. Shrouded in darkness, she stared at her own reflection, barely able to see the line of her nose or the curve of her lips. No echo of recognition registered in her mind, and her heart remained untouched by what her eyes could not see.

  Not a single candle burned in her room, and the summer’s warm nights made a fire in the hearth unnecessary. Seeing the shadows dance across the walls behind her, Ellie’s eyes shifted to the silvery crescent in the night sky.

  Truly, it was a night for ghosts to roam the earth, to haunt the living.

  That thought struck a spark, and Ellie’s mind took her back to the first night Frederick had come to her bed as well as all the ones following. Upon entering, he had kept his gaze fixed on the floor and immediately extinguished each and every candle. More than once, Ellie had wondered why.

  Now, she knew.

  Haunted by his own ghosts, Frederick tried to hide in the shadows. As much as his heart might long for human companionship, it also feared the closeness that grew from it and, therefore, fought to protect itself. Only with the dark between them, keeping him safe like a shield, he would use to defend himself against an enemy, had he come to her bed.

  A wicked smile curled up Ellie’s lips as understanding dawned, and she realised that the dark could be her ally. Obviously, Frederick considered himself safe from her touch as long as the night wrapped its cloak about him.

  Only the safety he sought was no safety at all, and she would make him understand. Deep down, his heart longed for more, but since he was not willing to see that in the light of day, then she would convince him in the dark of night.

  Remembering the passion she had witnessed between Betty and Peter, Ellie smiled. Other senses might be more persuasive than the sense of sight.

  A soft chuckle escaped her lips at the wickedness of her plan.

  However, if Oliver was right, then Frederick would not leave unless she was with child, and, therefore, he would need to visit her bed.

  And when he did, she would give him a reason to stay.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine – Only to Feel

  A week passed, and every night, Ellie waited for her husband. After extinguishing all the lights, she would crawl into bed and lie in the dark, her body trembling with hope as well as the fear of disappointment. As the hours ticked by, her optimism would abandon her, and ugly doubt would creep into her heart. Some nights, she was determined to suffer this torture no longer and simply solve the problem by visiting him in his chambers. However, her courage always failed her. She never got further than her hand on the door handle.

  This night was no different. The clock had already struck eleven, and the house lay in utter silence, a deafening silence that drummed in her ears and taunted her resolve. Rolling onto her side, Ellie hugged her arms around a pillow and closed her eyes to the pain of her husband’s repeated rejection.

  Feeling a soft draft caress her cheek, Ellie frowned. Had the door come ajar?

  Turning onto her back, she lifted her head off the pillow and stared into the semi-darkness around her bed. Faint shadows hung on the walls; however, one of them seemed to move, quiet footsteps carrying it closer.

  Ellie’s breath caught in her throat.

  Although she could barely make out his silhouette in the dark, Ellie knew that he was there. Her skin tingled as it always did when he was near, and once again, her heart quickened its pace as though expecting her to run a marathon.

  Quiet footfalls brought him closer, and his white nightshirt shimmered
in the dark as he moved into the single beam of silvery light filtered in through a gap in the curtains. Ellie held her breath as though faced with a strange apparition and not her husband, a man of flesh and blood.

  In the dark, however, he seemed otherworldly somehow. No sound came from his lips, and his eyes were hidden in the shadows. For a terrifying moment, Ellie’s mind whispered, What if it isn’t him?

  Swallowing, Ellie pushed her fears aside, breathing in his familiar scent as it slowly bridged the small distance between them. As though completely torn, he smelled of fresh air and sunshine mingled with a sense of oppressive despair that settled on her nerves.

  Again, Ellie swallowed as she realised how very conflicted he was. Had he indulged in spirits yet again in order to find the courage to come to her bed? Was he so terrified of allowing someone to come close?

  As he sat down on the bed, it was as though a shock wave rolled across the mattress, washing over her before receding. Breathing in deeply, her head sank back onto the pillow while her eyes remained focused on his shadowy form, trying to find their counterparts in the darkness that hid his face.

  In a slow, fluid motion, he slid under the blanket, and the warmth from his body reached out to her with tantalising fingers. Goosebumps rose on her arms and legs before he had even touched her, and Ellie wondered if her tingling nerves would allow her to proceed with her plan.

  Inch by inch, the warmth radiating from his body came closer until it engulfed her whole. For a moment, Ellie closed her eyes and took a deep breath, willing her wits not to abandon her.

  When she opened them again and looked up into the dark, she could barely make out his form as it hovered above her, his hands fisted into the mattress on either side of her head. His warm breath touched her skin, and more goose bumps broke out all over her body. Staring into the eyes she could not see, Ellie marvelled at the sense of peace that came over her, and a loving smile touched her face.

  This was where she ought to be.

  When she felt his hand through the fabric of her nightgown as it moved up, pulling her nightgown along, the breath caught in her throat, and for a second, Ellie thought she would lose her nerve.

  Caught in the memory of their previous encounters, Ellie felt her body grow rigid. Never had he touched her, not her bare skin, and clearly he had no intention of doing so tonight. A lump formed in Ellie’s throat, and she allowed herself a moment of self-pity. Why could he not feel the slightest bit of passion for her?

  However, as quickly as the emotion had seized her, it vanish, and her breathing continued in a slightly elevated rhythm, which her heartbeat matched, sending shivers throughout her body. If he wouldn’t touch her, then it was up to her to take the first step.

  Drawing in a deep, yet shaky breath, Ellie slowly lifted up her hand and reached out. In the dark, she could not see his face and was, therefore, forced to merely rely on her tactile sense. It did not lead her astray.

  The moment, her fingertips touched his cheek, he froze, his hand resting on her thigh.

  Hearing him draw in a slow and deep breath, Ellie moved her fingers down his cheek, skimming her thumb across his cheekbone. Her fingertips leisurely grazed his jawline, detecting a slight stubble, before she cupped her open palm to his cheek.

  He exhaled slowly, almost painfully, and Ellie bit her lip as excitement coursed through her body.

  For a moment, she remained still, her hand to his cheek, and waited.

  When he made no move to stop her, Ellie lifted up her other hand and touched it to his face the same way. Her thumbs moved in small circles over his cheekbones before she drew her hands down, her fingers tracing the line to his mouth, over his lips and down the small dip along his chin.

  All the while, he remained frozen in place as though untouched by her actions. Ellie, however, could feel his blood pulsing under her fingers matching the slow beat that echoed within her own.

  Encouraged by his silent reaction, she skimmed her thumbs over his lips and was delighted when they parted slightly, his warm breath rushing over her fingertips.

  Growing bolder, Ellie moved her hands back over his cheeks, around his neck and buried them in his thick hair. Her fingers traced the hard contours of his head as well as the soft skin in the back of his neck. Feeling the comparatively coarse texture of his nightshirt’s collar touch her skin, Ellie pulled her hands back momentarily before reaching out once more and sliding them down his neck and under his shirt onto his shoulders.

  A slow moan escaped his lips, and he sank down onto his lower arms, burying his face in the curve of her neck.

  Shocked at his sudden reaction, Ellie lay still, her hands resting on his shoulders. The muscles in his back trembled ever so slightly, and tears came to her eyes as she realised the effort it took him not to run from her, from himself.

  Gently, she trailed her fingers over his tense muscles, moving her hands down his back and then up to his shoulders. Smooth skin met her, interspersed with small scars from nicks and cuts. When her fingertips moved sideways to the soft skin below his shoulder blades, Ellie gasped.

  Under his left shoulder, a larger scar rested, circular in nature as though an arrow had pierced his flesh. She drew her hand upward then over the ridge of his shoulder and down the front, finding an identical scar just below his collarbone.

  A bayonet−she thought, closing her eyes to the horrible image conjured by the scars marking his body. How had he survived such an attack? She wondered, unwilling to picture the moment he had almost lost his life.

  Kenneth.

  The name shot into her mind like a lightning bolt. He had saved Frederick’s life. She knew it to be true as though he had just confessed it to her. Kenneth had saved him while Frederick had been unable to return the favour.

  Ellie closed her eyes, wrapping her arms around his strong shoulders. No wonder guilt had been able to sink its talons into his heart.

  Holding him tight, Ellie took a deep breath, willing the images away. They had no place here in this bed.

  Determined to return to the sensual pleasures her body had only just begun to explore, Ellie flattened her hands to his skin, then drew them up his back and over his shoulders to his neck, gently touching his skin as though her touch could heal the wounds that remained unseen.

  All the while, his head remained buried in the curve of her neck, his warm breath tickling her skin, and surprised, Ellie noticed that his body no longer hovered above hers. At some point during her explorations, the distance between them had slowly grown smaller until his body had come to rest upon hers.

  His weight pressed her into the mattress while his warm body covered her like a blanket, safe and secure. Turning her head, she felt her cheek touch his, and the sensation sent new shivers through her body. Her hands moved to his face, her fingers once more tracing his jawline and brushing over his lips.

  He lifted his head then, and a part of Ellie mourned the closeness they had shared.

  Looking up into his face, she wished she could see his eyes. What would they tell her? Were they peaceful, gentle, loving even? Or would she find a tortured expression resting in them? A hint of guilt? Of regret?

  Swallowing, Ellie pushed all thoughts from her. For once, she would not think, not wonder, not doubt. The time for words would come, for her to ask and for him to explain. Now, however, she would only feel.

  Gently cupping his face in her hands, she pulled him down to her, softly brushing her lips against his, revelling in the sweet sensation that spread from the small nerve endings in her lips to the rest of her body.

  A jolt went through him at the first touch, and she brought his face close to hers again and again, her lips caressing his like the soft brush of a rose petal or a feather. Fleeting. There one moment, gone the next.

  All her senses narrowed into this one sensation, focused only on the small place where their lips touched.

  Time stopped until a strangled moan escaped his lips. As his arms moved up, his hands slid into her hair, a
nd his body pressed deeper into hers. His mouth opened and covered hers in a desperate attempt to get closer.

  For a tiny second, Ellie was stunned into silence as his hungry lips devoured hers and his hands caressed the slim line of her neck. She marvelled at the feelings that shot through her as though her body was under attack from an outside force. An attack she revelled in. An attack she never wanted to stop.

  When his lips freed hers and moved down the line of her jaw, trailing kisses in their wake, Ellie closed her eyes, her teeth sinking into her lip. Holding on to him, she relinquished the control that had been hers and allowed him to take charge, enjoying the new sensations his lips and hands stirred within her body.

  Never before had she felt like this. Never before had anyone touched her like this.

  When his thumb skimmed over her cheek and his hand slid down the side of her neck, his fingertips gently brushing along her scarred skin, tears came to Ellie’s eyes.

  He did not retreat, did not pull back at the reminder of her tainted beauty. Instead, his hand retraced his path, exploring her scars as she had explored his, before it once again cupped her cheek, his lips finding hers once more.

  In that moment, Ellie’s heart soared to the heavens. In that moment, everything was perfect, and all thought left her body. For once, she wanted only to feel.

  Doubts would return soon enough.

  Returning his kiss, she wrapped her arms around his strong shoulders, curious about the pleasures that awaited her, and abandoned all thought.

  Chapter Thirty – The Memory of a Touch

  Sinking into his bed, Frederick rolled onto his back, staring at the dark ceiling. His breath came in small gasps, and his heart drummed in his chest. Closing his eyes, he moaned and rolled over, his hands curling into fists. He buried his face in the pillow and growled in…

  Was it frustration? Despair? Agony?

  Settling back onto his back, Frederick focused on drawing one long breath after another into his body. After a small eternity, his heart calmed down, and his mind began to clear.