Slave to the Night (The Brotherhood Series, Book 2) (12 page)

"Both," she said unable to suppress a sigh.

There was a brief moment of silence before he asked, "Did … did he hurt you?"

"Who? Henry?" An odd chuckle escaped from her lips, the sound far from revealing any hint of happiness. "He hurt me in many ways. Too many to mention."

Too many to forget, she added silently.

Grace looked to the floor and focused on blotting away the stains that were her memories. She knew how to suppress them. But the sullied marks always remained. Lord Markham stepped around the table and placed his hands on her upper arms.

"If your husband were alive I would bloody well kill him."

There was a truth to his words that touched her soul. If only she had known him before. If only he could have been her champion. It pleased her that he could curse in her company. Lord Markham never treated her like a child. He never disrespected her. She always felt safe and protected.

"Why are you helping me?" The words tumbled out of her mouth without thought.

His gaze drifted over her face, falling to her lips, and he sucked in a breath. "Why have you allowed me to?"

"Give me an honest answer and I promise to reciprocate."

Beneath his soothing touch, her arms felt warm, the heat spreading rapidly through her body. With him standing in such close proximity, she struggled to focus. And the pulsing sensation beat its seductive rhythm at the apex of her thighs.

He smiled. "Perhaps I enjoy playing knight-errant to a damsel in distress."

"Is that all?" The hint of disappointment in her tone was unmistakable. "Is that the only reason?"

"I like you, Grace. More than you want me to. More than I care to admit."

"How do you know what I want?"

He shrugged. "You don't want me to kiss you. That much I do know."

Oh, he was wrong.

She'd thought of nothing else all day, dreamt of nothing else all night. Amidst the noise and bustle of the ballroom, she had wanted so desperately to be held in his arms. Would it feel as comforting as she imagined? But fear, like a devil on her shoulder, whispered its evil words. What if he became too rough? What if she wanted him to stop and he refused to listen?

Henry's twisted grin flashed into her mind. Were those cold eyes and callous lips to haunt her forever?

"Kiss me if you wish to," she suddenly said, hoping the touch of an angel would banish the Devil.

He removed his hat, placed it on the table and brushed his hands through his ebony locks. "Do you want me to kiss you, Grace?"

"Yes." Each breath came more quickly as he scanned her face, moistened his lips. "Be gentle with me," she said. "Don't rush me."

He brushed her hair from her cheek, cupped her face in his hands. "I won't hurt you. I would never want you to do anything that made you feel uncomfortable."

Grace almost jumped into his arms, almost let the tears fall. Instead, she took the last step until the front of her dress brushed against his coat.

He lowered his head, and she held her breath as his lips touched hers, so softly, so gently. The sensitive skin tingled as he brushed against her mouth, moving to rain faint kisses on her chin and along her jaw until she felt hot and dizzy.

The seductive smell of sandalwood swamped her, and she wondered if his skin tasted as divine. When he kissed her neck, she closed her eyes and let her head fall back.

"Elliot." The word left her lips between ragged breaths.

"Oh, God. Grace I … I…"

She felt the sudden shift in him — his muscles growing harder, his breathing huskier. He brushed her lips again, firmer this time, his tongue penetrating her mouth with an urgency that shocked her.

A burning need emanated from him, the air about them thrumming with uncontrollable passion. All the wonderful feelings abandoned her as he crushed her to his chest. Panic took hold. And she struggled and writhed against him.

"No … let … let me go." She put her palms on his chest and pushed away from him.

"What's wrong?" He looked so tortured, so damnably handsome and confused.

Feelings of shame and mortification overpowered all else. What sort of woman struggled to kiss a man? Perhaps Henry was right. She was cold-hearted, unresponsive, lacked passion. When she thought of all the women eager to seduce Lord Markham, she felt so incapable, so inadequate.

"I'll meet you in the hall," she said darting past him as she choked back a sob. But old habits drew her upstairs, and she ran into the room she'd slept in since her arrival, desperate to lock the door, desperate to lock him out.

He raced behind her, chasing her and she thought her heart would give way from the strain. When he caught her by the arm, she turned and screamed. "Please, Henry, don't."

"Grace. It is me. It's Elliot."

He pulled her into his arms as she tried to fight him.

"You're safe," he whispered, stroking her hair and holding her tight. "You're safe, Grace. It's Elliot. Henry is dead."

It took a moment for the words to penetrate her addled mind. Henry was dead, and she had acted like a fool. Too ashamed to look at Lord Markham, she wrapped her arms around his waist, took comfort in the warmth and security he provided.

"I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me."

"Hush. It doesn't matter," he said. "It's my fault."

She jerked away and forced herself to look at him. "No," she said shaking her head vigorously. "You have done nothing wrong. It is me, Elliot. I am tainted by the memory of a monster."

He pulled her back into his chest and continued with his soothing ministrations. "You can trust me, Grace. We can be friends. I won't press you for anything more."

A feeling akin to grief flared. Friends would not be enough for her; she knew that now. "Give me another chance."

He kissed the top of her head. "Grace, I will give you anything you desire. But we cannot continue like this. You need to help me understand."

Sucking in a deep breath for courage, she nodded and stepped back. "Lie with me, Elliot. Just hold me in your arms and I will tell you."

Mesmerising green eyes scanned the bed behind her. "This will be a first for me," he said with a smile as he took her hand and led her to the bed.

To know that he had never been this intimate with any other woman caused her heart to soar and she lay down next to him, let him gather her into his arms.

"I assume the monster you refer to is Henry?"

It was easier to talk about it in the dark. Being enveloped in a warm embrace gave her the strength to continue.

"Henry was to marry Caroline. He had loved her since they were children. But as the years passed it became more apparent that a provincial life was not for her." Grace placed her hand on his chest as it brought her comfort. "In his desperation, he did everything he could to persuade her to settle down with him. His parents made things increasingly more difficult for mine. When my father died, my mother was not strong enough to fight them."

Elliot stroked her hair, ran his hand down her back. "Are you saying you married a man you didn't love to help your sister and your mother?"

Grace swallowed deeply. It shocked her just how perceptive he was. It shamed her to admit she had been so naive.

"Henry thought that if he pressured me to marry him instead, as the eldest, Caroline would be forced to honour her responsibilities. Even in those final few minutes before we walked from the church as man and wife, I think he believed she would change her mind."

"Good heavens. Did you know he felt that way when you married him?"

"Of course not." Henry would have put Judas to shame. His kind and courteous nature masked the depth of his deceit. "I found this all out later. Indeed, Henry made it his mission to ensure I never forgot it. I think he punished me as a way of punishing Caroline."

Elliot gave a contemptuous snort. "But you never told her, did you? She came to London blissfully unaware of the devastation she had left behind."

"It wasn't her fault. It was mine. A cold-hearted devil tricked me into marriage. I was foolish enough to believe he cared. I thought it would be enough, that I would eventually grow to love him."

They lay in silence, but in her mind it sounded noisy and hectic.

Elliot turned onto his side to face her. "I am not Henry Denton, Grace. When I … when I kiss you, it is my passion and desire for you that makes me so over-excited."

She glanced down at the gold buttons on his waistcoat. "Henry said I'm cold inside. He said I … I could never please a man."

Elliot took her chin between his thumb and finger, lifting her head until their gazes locked. "Grace, I have never met a more passionate woman. And it pleases me just being in your company."

His words went some way to heal her sad soul. She was tired of living in Henry's shadow. If she spent her whole life searching, she doubted she would ever find a gentleman as understanding as Elliot Markham. If she had any chance of putting the past behind her, she had to start now.

Grace placed her hand on his cheek and pressed her body closer to his. "Let me try again. Please, Elliot. I trust you. Just once. If it doesn't work, we'll be friends as you suggested."

He didn't answer. Not in words. Lowering his head towards her, he touched his lips to hers with a level of tenderness that stole her breath.

Desire unfurled like the petals of rose buds in spring: slowly, curiously, with an element of wonder.

I have never met a more passionate woman.

A renewed sense of confidence burst forth. Was it his wonderful words spurring this change in her? Was it the fact she had bared her soul to him and survived?

In a bid to be nearer she shuffled closer, decided to kiss him in return. She brushed her mouth gently, tentatively across his. His unique scent surrounded her. She could taste it on his lips, the mix of raw masculinity and some wild, earthy essence she found intoxicating.

He let her set the pace. He lay there and let her kiss him softly and sweetly.

As a groan of appreciation rumbled in the back of his throat, she deepened the kiss, needing to satisfy a hunger clawing away inside. Her passion for him grew brighter and bigger, and she traced the line of his lips with the tip of her tongue — to rouse a response, to let him know she was ready for more.

Elliot understood her silent plea. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her on top of his hard body. His tongue met hers, caressing, dancing, delving deeper as his hands drifted lower to draw her against the evidence of his arousal.

"Grace," he whispered as they broke to catch their breath. He stared into her eyes. "Come home with me. Let me worship you in the only way I know how."

Excitement and fear fought a fierce internal battle. But her desire for him was too strong. In celebration, she kissed him deeply, passionately, her body writhing against his with a need she could not define.

She could hear their lustful pants, could feel a tightening deep in her core crying out to be appeased. She wanted to feel the warmth of his bare skin against hers, wanted to know if it was possible to feel pleasure when he moved inside her.

"Give me a little time. Tomorrow, I will stay with you tomorrow night."

"Only if you want to," he said shuffling to sit upright.

She looked up at him. "I do want to." There was nothing she wanted more.

He glanced across to the window. "Perhaps it's as well. I cannot risk staying here. I need to make sure I'm home before sunrise."

She had forgotten all about his terrible affliction, and she scrambled from the bed. "Then we should be going. I would not want you to suffer on my account."

A sinful grin played at the corners of his mouth, and he crossed his arms behind his head. "We'll have a little time alone in my carriage. You can show me how grateful you are to me for offering my assistance. You can experiment on me with those delightful kisses I've suddenly grown so fond of."

Grace's heart soared. "I shall need a lot more practice, particularly with my tongue," she teased.

Elliot groaned. "You may use me as you wish. But be prepared. I may do some experimenting of my own."

Chapter 11

"It seemed more sensible for Elliot to lend us the use of his carriage," Evelyn said glancing at Grace as they rattled along the busy streets. "The less time we spend out in public, the less chance we have of anyone identifying you."

Grace pursed her lips to suppress a grin. Being inside Elliot's conveyance roused memories of their journey home from Arlington Street. Just hours earlier, she had sat astride him on the leather seat, tempting him with her innocent kisses. Although they turned out to be no so innocent after all. The sound of his urgent pants and groans as she tugged at his hair had almost been her undoing, and she'd fought the need to lie back against the squab and offer herself to him.

"I don't care what people think of me," Grace said feeling genuine affection for the lady who had kindly taken her into her home. "But I do worry about you."

Evelyn made a puffing sound. "In a few days, I shall be tucked away at Stony Cross and doubt I'll ever have cause to venture into town again. Let the gossips say what they will."