Abducted by a Prince (34 page)

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 naïvely 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.

Chapter 25

In the days that followed, Ellie found herself fitting seamlessly into the fabric of the household. Damien was gone much of the time at his club, and she had the leisure to do as she wished. It seemed peculiar at first not to have every moment regimented by the demands of her cousin and grandmother. After all those years of servitude, she felt an almost guilty pleasure to be pursuing her own interests.

A large parcel arrived for her the next afternoon, and to her amazement, it contained art supplies, from paper to pens to watercolors, all of the finest quality. There was a note from Damien saying that Ellie was to order whatever else she deemed necessary and have the bill sent to him. She felt a clutch of her heart. Never in her life had anyone given her a more perfect, thoughtful gift.

Armed with her new equipment, she devoted a great deal of effort to the project of dividing her long fairy tale into a collection of shorter books. It took considerable thought to concoct plot twists and to find ways in which to create plausible endings to each section. For hours, she would sit at the desk in her bedchamber or on the chaise longue by the windows and apply herself to the task of writing and illustrating the revised pages.

As much as Ellie loved her work, however, there were occasions during the course of each day when she needed a break. So she went exploring through every nook and cranny of Damien’s house. She felt rather like an interloper, peeking into rooms and antechambers, going up and down the several staircases, wandering from one floor to the next, and marveling at the tranquil beauty of the décor.

This was her home. And yet it wasn’t. How strange to think that she was the mistress of this fine mansion, albeit temporarily.

One of her favorite places was a large conservatory with a glass roof. Here, the air was moist and tropical with lush vegetation, and there were benches where she sometimes sat with her sketchpad. She also loved the library, a high-ceilinged chamber with groupings of chairs where one might sit in the hushed silence and read or draw. The shelves were half empty, though, and she wondered if Damien meant to fill them slowly over the coming years. How lovely it would be to visit bookstores with him, to make new selections and carry them home to unwrap …

Then Ellie would remember she wouldn’t be here for much longer.

Sometimes she would venture belowstairs. She had discovered that Mrs. MacNab was Damien’s cook. Perhaps it wasn’t quite dignified for her elevated station, but Ellie enjoyed sitting at the long table in the kitchen, chatting with the woman about household gossip or menus. On a number of occasions, she’d had to stop herself from reminiscing about certain incidents at the island castle. There were always other servants nearby, and no one on staff other than Finn and his wife knew that the master had abducted Ellie.

Strange, how she could feel such wistful nostalgia about that interlude at the castle, when the raging winter storm had trapped her in the company of the Demon Prince. She remembered how gruff Damien had been at first, how his manner had gradually thawed, how he had carried her up to her tower bedchamber when she’d sprained her ankle, how he had brandished the fireplace poker as a sword while posing as Prince Ratworth. And she remembered that first wild kiss on the parapet and their magical night together when she had coaxed him into her bed.

Damien needed no coaxing anymore. They slept together every night, although work often required him to stay late at his club. How she relished being awakened with kisses, feeling the warmth of his body beside her in bed. And always there was the intense pleasure of his lovemaking, the intimate touches, the sense of being one with him. When she allowed herself to consider it, Ellie feared a strengthening of the silken bonds that tied them together. But she had resolved to savor each moment of this interlude and not fret about the future.

Each afternoon, her heart leaped when he came into her bedchamber to give her a lingering kiss before they went upstairs to take tea with Lily in the nursery. On Sundays, they would attend church and then take a walk in Hyde Park so that Lily could look for ducklings to feed. While the girl skipped ahead of them on the path, they strolled arm in arm and talked about many topics, from the progress of her book to household matters to Lily’s schooling—but never Ellie’s departure.

Ellie didn’t want to spoil their easy camaraderie by inquiring about the cottage. Damien had said that the task of finding the perfect place might take a while, and surely he would tell her when he had news of a good prospect. In the interim, she let herself drift along in a glow of happiness, never looking further ahead than the next scene in her book.

One day, she had an unexpected caller. Summoned to a sunny yellow sitting room, she found Lady Anne perched nervously on a chair. The earl’s sister-in-law wore a nondescript gray gown that turned her eyes more gray than blue, and a lace spinster’s cap that covered her silvering dark hair. A shy smile lit her delicate features.

Ellie gave her a warm hug. “Does my uncle know you’re here?”

“Heavens, no! He said we are to cut off all ties. But … my dear girl, I could not rest easy without assuring myself of your happiness.”

Ellie was touched to the depths of her heart. Lady Anne had been the only one in the Pennington household who had ever shown her kindness. Not wanting the woman to worry, Ellie portrayed herself as perfectly serene in her marriage, with Lily a lovely stepdaughter and Damien a kind husband.

“Might I … meet him?” Lady Anne asked rather hopefully.

“Oh, my lady, I’m sorry, he’s away at his club. Perhaps…”

Ellie stopped herself before inviting Lady Anne to dinner one evening. How could she make future plans when she didn’t know the timing of her exodus from London? And anyway, it seemed unfair to encourage more family visits when she would be gone soon. As she hugged the woman good-bye, she felt the wrenching pain of knowing they would likely never again meet.

Ellie didn’t know how she would bear saying farewell to Lily and Damien. Perhaps it was best not to let herself even think of it …

The following day brought matters to a head. Ellie awakened with a familiar low ache in her back. And she soon discovered that her monthly courses had commenced.

The realization left her feeling somehow bereft. She’d last had her monthlies onboard the ship after they’d left the island castle to return to London. That meant that four weeks had passed since her arrival here at this house. It seemed impossible that the time had flown by so swiftly.

Glancing out her bedroom window, she saw that the yellow daffodils and red tulips were in full bloom. She had meant to be gone by now. A haze of green covered the trees and the earthen beds between the pathways. Spring had arrived, and the garden was full of new life.

Yet she was not.

Was that the source of her sudden bout of melancholy? Had she secretly yearned to conceive Damien’s child? Common sense told her it was best that she hadn’t. A baby would only bind her to Damien, making their parting all the more difficult. They had not wed with the intention of staying together. And as fulfilling as their time together had been, he had never spoken of love. For a brief idyllic interval, she had let herself forget that they both had been forced by circumstances into a marriage that neither of them had wanted.

All day, Ellie mulled over those troubling thoughts while she tried to concentrate on her sketching. At the edge of her mind lurked an awareness that she had dallied here with him long enough. The honeymoon had to come to an end sometime …

In late afternoon, Damien strolled into her bedchamber to find her sitting on the window seat, gazing outside, the sketchbook lying forgotten in her lap. She turned her face up for his kiss as had become their custom every day. The brush of his lips filled her with bittersweet longing and she arose quickly, giving him a wan smile and avoiding his eyes.

He slipped his arm around her waist, his gaze questioning. “You look pale, Ellie. Is there something amiss?”

“No … yes. I don’t feel well today, that’s all.”

“I’m sorry. Are you ill, then? Perhaps you ought to be in bed.”

Ellie didn’t want to see that look of solicitous concern on his face. Nor did she wish to feel this weak-willed urge to bury her face against the folds of his cravat, to seek comfort in his warm embrace.

“I’m not
ill
. It’s perfectly natural.” Despite their intimacy, she felt herself blush to explain, “It’s … my monthly time, that’s all.”

His expression cleared. “Ah. Then you must stay here and rest. Lily won’t miss you this once. Well, she
will
miss you, but I’ll find a way to keep her entertained.” Catching hold of her arm, he walked Ellie toward the bed and drew back the covers. “I’ll have Mrs. Tomkins send up a hot water bottle to help with any pains you might be suffering. In a day or two, you’ll feel much better, I’m sure.”

His masterful management of the situation grated on Ellie. She resented being handled like a business problem at his club. Especially when an unresolved issue weighed heavily on her mind—as it should on his, too.

Stepping away from him, she crossed her arms. The thoughts and emotions churning inside her came out in a rush. “I won’t lie down, I’m not an invalid. And I should like to know the status of my cottage, for it is an excellent time for me to leave here!”

The faint ticking of the mantel clock filled the silence. He gave her that inscrutable stare. “Because you are not with child, you mean.”

“Yes. You must allow, this would be the ideal circumstance for my departure. So what is being done? Have you found any prospects?”

He glanced away for a moment. Then he stepped closer and his green-gray eyes burned into hers. “Ellie,” he said urgently, gripping her hands. “Why move away at all? Stay right here with me—with Lily. She loves you, she regards you as her mother. And you’ve all the supplies you need to illustrate your books, do you not? I’ve ordered the servants to leave you be so that you may work in peace. Surely there is nothing that you could gain from a cottage that you can’t find right here with us.”

His invitation shook her to the core. It was so very tempting to contemplate staying here with him forever. But he had only spoken of Lily’s need for a mother. What of
his
love? Or was he too much the scoundrel ever to give his heart?

Ellie realized in that moment the truth she had been avoiding. She was madly, passionately, head-over-heels in love with the Demon Prince. Perhaps she had been for a long time, since even before they had left the castle. Yet he was a gambler, a rogue, a flirt. They had married for all the wrong reasons. And if she was merely a convenience to him, as a mother to his daughter and as a readily available lover, then eventually he would tire of Ellie and stray to other women.

He would disillusion her as her father had done.

She withdrew her hands from his. “There is my independence to be gained,” she forced out. “You
know
that I’ve always desired to live on my own, Damien. We made an agreement in that regard. So where is my cottage?”

Again, he averted his gaze for a moment. “There have been several possibilities that I’ve rejected as inappropriate. It will likely take a few weeks longer.”

A horrified thought struck Ellie. She didn’t want to believe it. “Are you
lying
to me? Have you even assigned your land agent to the task?”

“Yes. I swear I did. But…”

“But what?”

Damien combed his fingers through his hair, mussing the black strands. His mouth formed a sheepish half-smile. “He’s been working on some other projects for me, and I … told him that your cottage was not a particularly urgent matter. I’m sorry. I can see now that it is, so I’ll meet with him tomorrow. I’ll make it his top priority. You have my word on that.”