Page 62 of Her Daring Earl
As they reached the pinnacle together, her eyes locked onto his, unspoken emotions reaching toward him, reflecting his own back against her.
They fell back on the sheets, lying tangled together, hearts pounding in sync, the warmth of their passion still lingering between them.
Fitz trailed a finger along the curve of Eliza's jawline, trying to take in the moment and commit it to memory. He would never forget this night, the way her skin felt beneath his touch, the way her laugh sounded in his ears. He drew in a deep breath, taking in the scent of her hair, the earthy, sun-warmed fragrance that had been part of his dreams for longer than he’d like to admit.
Hours later, Fitz was still wide awake in the middle of the night, gazing upon his sleeping wife. He gently ran his hand over her soft skin, pausing when he reached her abdomen, where there was the faintest swell that only someone familiar with her body would notice. His child. He placed his palm over her belly, overcome for a moment at the thought that they had made something so special together and that soon enough, there would be a little person in the world relying on him.
Another person.
He had to make sure to be here for the little one, for Eliza, for his sisters and his mother. He had been reckless before, true, but everything he had done in life since then had been for their betterment and their protection.
This threat held over all of their heads had gone on for far too long. What was he to do if they were still in danger when thebaby arrived? He couldn’t stay here in hiding for the rest of his life. Soon enough, he would be found.
He far preferred that it would happen on his own terms, and not when – or where – it would put those he loved in danger.
He looked down at Eliza, at how peaceful she was in sleep.
There was only one thing to do to keep her safe.
She would hate it. She would possibly hatehim. But at least nothing would happen to her or their child.
He just had to hope that she would one day understand.
Eliza woke languidlythe next morning.
Her stomach was protesting, but when she turned to the side table, she smiled to see that Fitz had left her one of the Sally Lunn Buns she loved so much. She found if she ate before moving she could feel well enough to continue with her day.
She glanced over to the side of the bed where he had slept, the imprint of his head still on the pillow. He had grown so accustomed to sleeping in her bed that she wondered when the last time had been that he had slept within his own.
She didn’t mind. She liked being close to him.
He always woke before her, heading down to his study so that he could finish all of his correspondence and send it away so that it would arrive in time for the post to be taken by the mail coach.
It was rather intimate, this living in partnership with another.
Eliza’s mother had departed just a few days ago. They had left one another with a tearful farewell, and her mother’s promise to return in a few months when Eliza’s confinement neared. She would have stayed longer had she not been eager to see Eliza’s father, whom Eliza knew she missed desperately. She wonderedif that love she had always wanted – the one her parents had – could actually now be within reach. Who could ever have imagined that it might be with Fitz?
Her pastry finished, she donned her slippers and waited for her maid to arrive and help her dress for the morning.
Eliza had a spring in her step, one that had her looking forward to seeing Fitz and wondering if he would have anything to say about their activities last night. They had been even more passionate than usual, she supposed because they had passed the test of trust with Madeline’s arrival.
When she finally made her way downstairs and into the breakfast room, she sensed the moment she walked in that something was amiss from the way Fitz’s entire family – except Fitz himself, as he was not present – stopped talking and stared at her.
“Good morning,” she said, looking around the room, finally stopping on Henrietta’s face, which appeared rather pained, quite unusual for her. “Is everyone well?”
“Yes,” Fitz’s mother finally said, standing with her fingers intertwined. “We must tell you something.”
Eliza waited, unable to say anything.
“It seems,” his mother began slowly, “that Fitz is… gone.”
“Gone.” Eliza repeated the word as though by doing so it would make more sense. “Where did he go?”
“It’s Fitz,” said Georgina, rolling her eyes. “London, obviously.”
“Georgie!” Henrietta admonished, elbowing her in the side.
“I’m sorry, but Eliza knows who Fitz is. He had one visit from a working woman and?—”
