Page 80 of The Duke's Forbidden Bride
Eleanor’s eyes met his, dark with desire. She made a show of sucking on his fingers for another moment, wondering what hewould do next. His fingers fell from her mouth with an audiblepop.
“You know I am already yours to claim. You heard what Mr. Gray said about your moods.” Her voice, although breathless, turned teasing. “You may prove they can provide a good time.”
“Not for your first time,” he all but growled. “I will never hurt you.”
“It is not pain,” she whispered. “It is a more intense pleasure you can show me. You have never hurt me once, and I will always trust you. I already do.”
His mouth slanted over hers in a bruising, hot kiss. When he pulled back, he was already pulling her skirt up to her hips.
“I will lay you down in my bed,” he swore. “But I must touch you. I fear I will lose my wits if I do not bury my fingers inside?—”
A door further down the hallway opened, and Eleanor gasped at the intrusion, barely having time to whirl away and fix her dress. Her heart leaped into her throat as Spencer tore himself from her.
“What?” he bit out.
The man who entered the hallway was not a servant, nor was he in uniform, but a simple, dark blue shirt and breeches. His face was young but worried as he looked between them.
“Nathaniel, do we have a meeting?” Spencer beckoned him forward. “Why are you here? I ordered you to watch over my sister.”
He adjusted his tailcoat, and Eleanor masked her satisfaction at the fact that she affected him so much that he lost his composure so publicly.
“No, Your Grace,” Nathaniel replied. “I was waiting in your study to report on…” His eyes flicked to Eleanor.
Spencer nodded. “You can speak in front of my wife.”
Warmth bloomed inside Eleanor, both at the possessiveness in his voice and the fact that he was doing what he had promised: keeping his walls lowered.
“It’s about Lady Charlotte,” Nathaniel began.
Spencer’s demeanor immediately shifted, his shoulders stiffening and his voice growing sharper.
“I was keeping watch over the cottage, as instructed, but I noticed a man lingering around the periphery of the estate. I tried to apprehend him the first time, but he slipped away. I assumed I had scared him off, but then he returned a couple of days ago. I wanted to send word, but I worried that my letter would fall into the wrong hands. Lady Charlotte and Lady Montagu are currently safe and being watched by the rest of themen you stationed there, but I knew I had to alert you right away.”
Eleanor’s heart rate quickened. She expected Spencer to push her away, to tell her that this conversation was not for her ears. She stepped forward, ready to demand to know her friend’s whereabouts, especially if she was in danger.
When she spoke, her voice shook with panic. “Now, will you tell me where?—”
But Spencer already rounded on her. “I shall have a bag packed for you. We are going to Aversham to collect my sister.”
Her argument died on her tongue as he gave her a look of understanding. They were finally one unit. He was finally trusting her.
Eleanor wasted no time rushing to her chamber, all their kisses and promises of intimacy forgotten.
Aversham was located on the farthest corners of the London countryside, close enough to Everdawn that Spencer would have been notified quickly if anything had happened to Charlotte, but far enough that he was comfortable with the distance between her and the city.
However, he was not sure he would ever be comfortable with her location, no matter how far from Lord Follet he sent her.
Beyond the carriage window, the sun was dipping toward the horizon, and dark clouds gathered overhead.
Spencer’s body was still alight with how he had ravished Eleanor in the hallway, his mind still whirling with the prospect of how ready he had been to take her.
“Aversham,” Eleanor muttered next to him. “All this time, Charlotte has been a stone’s throw from London.” Spencer went to argue, but she was already laughing in disbelief, shaking her head. “I understand why I could not visit her. I still think I should have known, though.”
He raised an eyebrow at her and watched as her eyes flitted to the scar on his face and then away, barely flinching when she beheld it. He noticed that; she simply considered it part of his face. He saw the questions in her eyes, but she never once pried.
He fixed his gaze on her, his voice low and soft. “Why do you never ask how I got my scar?”
Her eyes widened in surprise. “I… I suppose that I never thought it was my business. I was curious, yes, but I have tried to keep my questions about myself and Charlotte. I did not want to pry.”
