Ex, Why, and Me (19 page)

Marcus studied Elizabeth from the doorway of his bedroom. She slept, her beautiful face innocent in slumber. Despite her betrayal, his heart swelled at the sight of her cuddled peacefully in bed. Next to her, on the small table, sat two open packets of headache powder and a glass of water, half full.

Slowly she stirred, the force of his presence and the heat of his gaze penetrating her sleep. She opened her eyes and focused on him, the instant tenderness of her gaze quickly shielded by guilt-heavy lids. He knew in that instant the reports were true. He held himself upright by will alone, when all he wanted to do was crawl to her and bury his pain in her arms.

“Marcus,” she called in the soft, throaty voice that never failed to arouse him. Despite his anger and torment, he felt his cock stir. “Come to bed, darling. I want you to hold me.”

Traitorously, his feet moved toward her. By the time he reached her, he had removed his coat and waistcoat. He stopped at the edge of the bed. “How was your day?” he asked, his voice carefully neutral.

She stretched, the movement of her legs pulling down the sheet so that her torso was exposed through the thin shift she’d worn to sleep. He grew hard, and hated himself for it when his thoughts drifted to the secrets she kept. Nothing could temper his response to her. Even now, his heart struggled to forgive her.

Wrinkling her nose, she said, “Truthfully? It was one of the most horrid days of my life.” Her mouth curved seductively. “But you can change that.”

“What happened?”

She shook her head. “I don’t want to talk about it. Tell me about your day instead. It was certainly better than mine.” Pulling back the covers, she silently invited him to join her. “Can we have dinner in our rooms tonight? I don’t feel like getting dressed again.”

Of course not. How many times would she want to dress and undress in one day? Maybe she hadn’t undressed at all. Maybe St. John had merely pushed her skirts up and…

Marcus clenched his jaw and willed the image away.

Sitting on the bed, he yanked off his shoes. Then he turned to her. “Did you enjoy your trip into town?” he asked casually, but it didn’t fool her.

Elizabeth knew him too well.

She made a great show of sitting up in the bed and fluffing the pillows into a comfortable pile. “Why don’t you simply say what you mean?”

He tore his shirt over his head, then stood to remove his breeches. “Did your lover not bring you to orgasm, love? Are you anxious for me to finish what he started?” He slid into bed next to her, but found himself alone. She had slipped out the other side and stood at the foot of the bed.

With hands on her hips, she glared at him. “What are you talking about?”

Marcus leaned back against the pillows she had so recently arranged. “I was told you spent some time with Christopher St. John today, in my carriage with the curtains closed. He gave you a touching kiss goodbye and an open welcome to call on him for
anything
you might need.”

The violet eyes sparked dangerously. As always, she was magnificent in her fury. With a chemise so finely crafted as to be nearly transparent, he could barely breathe from the sight of her.

“Ah,” she murmured, her lush mouth drawn tight. “Of course. Despite your insatiable appetite for me, which often leaves me sore and exhausted, I find I still require further sexual congress. Perhaps you should commit me?”

Turning on her bare heel, she left.

Marcus stared after her, agape. He waited to see if she would return and when she did not, he pulled on his robe and followed her to her room.

She stood by the hall door in her dressing gown, telling a maid to bring up dinner and more headache powder. After sending the servant away, she slipped into her bed without looking at him.

“Deny it,” he growled.

“I see no need. You are decided.”

He stalked over to her, caught her by the shoulders, and shook her roughly. “Tell me what happened! Tell me it’s false.”

“But it’s not,” she said with arched brows, so damn collected and unruffled he wanted to scream. “Your men related the events exactly.”

He stared at her in shock, his hands on her shoulders beginning to shake. Afraid to do violence, Marcus released her and clasped his hands behind his back. “You have been meeting with St. John and yet you won’t tell me why. What reason would you have for seeing him?” His voice hardened ruthlessly. “For allowing him to kiss you?”

Elizabeth didn’t answer his questions. Instead, she asked one of her own. “Will you forgive me, Marcus?”

“Forgive you for what?” he yelled. “Tell me what you’ve done! Have you taken a fancy to him? Has he seduced you into trusting him?”

“And if he has?” she asked softly. “If I’ve strayed, but want you back, would you have me?”

His pride so revolted at the thought of her in the arms of another man that, for a moment, he thought he would be violently sick. Turning away, his fists clenched convulsively at his sides. “What are you asking?” he bit out.

“You know very well what I’m asking. Now that you are aware of my duplicity, will you discard me? Perhaps now you’ll send me away. Now that you no longer want me.”

“
Not want you?
I never cease wanting you. Every damned moment. Sleeping. Waking.” He spun about. “And you want me too.”

She said nothing, her lovely face a mask of indifference.

He could send her with his family. Distance himself from her…

But the mere thought of her absence made him crazy. His ache for her was a physical pain. His pride crumbled beneath the demands of his heart.

“You will stay with me.”

“Why? To warm your bed? Any woman can do that for you.”

She was only an arm’s reach away and yet her icy demeanor had her miles from him.

“You are my wife. You will serve my needs.”

“Is that all I am to you? A convenience? Nothing more?”

“I wish you were nothing to me,” he said harshly. “God, how I wish you were nothing.”

To his amazement, her lovely face crumbled before his eyes. She slipped from the bed and sank to the floor. “Marcus,” she sobbed, her head bowing low.

He stood frozen.

She wrapped her arms around his legs, her head resting on his feet, her tears slipping between his toes. “I was with St. John today, but I didn’t stray from you. I could never.”

Near dizzy with confusion, he lowered slowly to the floor and took her in his arms. “Christ…Elizabeth…”

“I need you. I need you to breathe, to think, to
be
.” Her eyes, overflowing with tears, never left his face. Her hand moved to cup his cheek and he nuzzled into her touch, breathing in her scent.

“What is happening?” he asked, his voice hoarse from his clenched throat. “I don’t understand.”

She pressed her fingertips to his mouth. “I will explain.”