didn’t.’
The sobs increased, but her head was now nodding up and down, the arms that held him tightening.
In the firelight and in a strange house, miles from London, it seemed as if it were only them left in the whole wide world as she cried out her many years of silence.
She woke up in his bed. A blanket had been pulled over her and a pillow tucked beneath her head. It was still dark, though a small candle on the mantel had burnt down almost to the plate, making her calculate that many hours had passed.
She had told him!
Her hand went to her mouth and she held it there. The evening had begun with seduction in mind and ended in her being asleep, alone and dressed upon his bed and confessing a confidence that she had told no one before. She smiled, for the relief of sharing her secret had eased the burden in a way she could never have imagined.
Footsteps coming towards the room had her sitting up and Cristo appeared a second or so later with a tray. A teapot and two cups sat to one side of a jug of milk.
He had pulled on his shirt, but it was unbuttoned and like her he wore no shoes at all.
‘I thought you might be thirsty.’
A flower sat alongside the cups, newly picked, the dew on it magnifying the red.
He handed the perfect bloom to her, candlelight on the bronze of his chest, each muscle well defined.
‘It was by itself amongst the weeds when I stepped outside the kitchen door to take in some air. It reminded me of you.’
Smiling, she took his gift and noticed that all of the thorns had been taken off the smooth green stem. When she bent her head to the petals the perfume was of a soft freshness.
Placing the tray on the table, he drew forth a chair from under the window. His knees framed hers now and he looked as if he was searching for just the right thing to say.
‘I own land next to Falder. On it stands a manor house named Graveson Manor and it overlooks Return Home Bay. It is beautiful land, Eleanor, with the sea rolling in and the green of fields and trees.’ His left hand raked through his untidy blond hair, pushing it back.
The very words made the world a wondrous place, though she sobered when she thought of the path that he was leading her down.
‘I could not be your mistress.’
The shock in his dark brown eyes was easily seen. ‘It is not as a concubine I want you, Eleanor, but as a wife.’
Her mouth simply dropped open. ‘You are asking me to marry you?’
‘I am. I hope the groom you had in mind will bow out gracefully.’
She began to laugh. ‘It was you I was thinking of. No one else.’
He joined in her humour by smiling broadly. ‘I cannot believe that something is finally easy for us. You will marry me and become my wife?’
When she nodded again he stripped the gold ring from his little finger and reached forwards. ‘I know it is old-fashioned, but it was the only thing of Alice’s that I have. She took it off her finger the night before I left England all those years ago and made me promise it would go to the woman I married.’
‘You never wore this in Paris?’
‘It was too special. All the others were for show and for the part I was playing of a dissolute and unrestrained lord.’
Joy welled inside her. Special. Her finger ran across the red in the ruby and around the band of gold.
‘We will be married with all the family present, because I need to do this properly. As properly as everything so far between us has not been. I cannot wait a year, Eleanor, for your mourning period to be over, so perhaps we could repair to the Continent. Florencia will have a family with cousins and aunts and uncles.’
Her euphoria died down a little. No mention of love, but all of duty.
As he picked up on her uncertainty he dropped her hand, one eye on the door and the other on his watch. He wanted to be gone, from the room, from her and from the promise he had just made. She could see it so very plainly in his face.
Her fingers closed around the golden ring as she wondered if he might ask her to rescind her promise. But he was a Wellingham and responsibility sat on his shoulder as a heavy load. He would do his best by her.
When he leant down and kissed her on the forehead, she was almost reminded of Martin.
‘Thank you, Eleanor. You will not regret this decision.’
He had handled that as badly as he had ever handled anything in his life, he thought, as he regained his upstairs chamber, but the raging lust in him was a terrible reminder of how he had hurt her last time. This time he wanted everything perfect. Not rushed or illegal or sordid. Eleanor deserved the very best from him and he was going to give it to her, no expense spared. If he had stayed for even a moment longer with the promises between them, he doubted he could have remained so controlled.
Closing his eyes, he felt the line of his jaw tremble with desperation, his open hands balanced against the wall behind him.
He loved her. He loved her bravery and her honesty and the way she had held him as she cried her heart out. Him, the man who had been the cause of everything in her life that had been difficult.
Forgiveness. He deserved none of it and she might still refuse him. A lump formed in his throat.
If he lost her … He shook his head.
If he even touched her … He shook it again, not trusting the need that he was consumed with.
A board on the stairwell creaked and he swallowed back pity. The material at his groin strained tight as Eleanor came into the room.
With her cheeks blushing pink he thought he had never seen her look more beautiful and the danger of his wretched urgency mounted.
‘You should return to your bedroom, Eleanor.’ He grimaced at the harshness in his tone, but it was all he could do to stand there and not ravish her as every single particle in his body wanted to.
She held her palm out towards him, the gold of Alice’s ring glinting in what little there was left of the firelight.
‘I have endured one marriage that was not a love match. I do not think that I could endure another one.’ Her voice trembled, but she went on. ‘Especially when I know that my heart would be completely broken.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘I love you, Cristo. I have loved you from our first night together and through all our years of separation. It has only ever been you.’
‘Lord.’ He stepped forwards. ‘There aren’t many things
