Page 79 of The Forbidden Love of an Officer
Ellen longed for somewhere she felt safe. That had been her father’s house for most of her life, and then it had been anywhere with Paul. Now there was nowhere.
When she set her spoon and fork down on the plate, he took another large swig of wine.
He was fortifying himself – building up courage.
Either that or he simply wished to be in his cups within the hour.
Ellen shut her eyes, searching for ideas – how to escape…
Once he had finished his dessert he let his cutlery drop sharply on the plate with a metallic clink against the porcelain, then looked at the footman. ‘Clear this.’
Immediately, the footman moved and removed the used porcelain from the table.
Ellen counted down the minutes in her head to the moment it may not seem too early to leave, and when she went up to her rooms she would lock the door.
As the footman walked from the room, Ellen swallowed and stood. ‘I shall leave you to your port.’
‘No.’ The answer was sharp. ‘Shut the door,’ he called after the footman.
Ellen froze, her heart kicking into a rhythm of panic.
‘Sit.’ It was an order.
She did so as the door clicked shut.
Lieutenant Colonel Hillier stood and walked across to his decanters, then poured some port into a glass.
The sound of Ellen’s heartbeat pounded in her ears as well as pulsing through her blood.
He did not speak butturned and looked at her. It was a look of avarice – want.
‘You know I love you, Ellen. I always have, and I have tried to make you love me, but I believe you will never let the ghost of Captain Harding rest. He seems to hover over us. I am bored with it. My patience has run dry. I have given you much, and you have given me very little in return.’
He came towards her, his fingers pressing on her shoulder to keep her seated when she would have stood. His fingers tucked a lock of her hair back behind her ear, then he held her chin and raised her head. ‘Such a pretty face. I was envious of Captain Harding on the first day he introduced you. You are the grand prize, Ellen…’
She was just a woman, like any other. Or perhaps not like any other – after the things he had done to her.
‘Do you not think you owe me more?’ he asked in a quiet voice, that terrified her more than his orders.
He set his glass down on the pristine, starched white tablecloth beside her, then he bent.
As she realised he intended kissing her, she turned her head away.
His lips brushed her cheek.
‘Not good enough, Ellen.’ His hands held her head on either side, so she could not turn. It was what he did when he did that unspeakable thing. ‘I have waited while you mourned, but you have had long enough. Now I want to be kissed.’ His lips pressed against hers, hard and firm.
It was not with love… It was not love… It was nothing like Paul’s kiss.
When he would have pushed his tongue into her mouth, she bit her lips and pulled back against his grip.
He freed her and straightened, staring down at her. For a moment he just stared.
She remembered all those times he had watched her when Paul had been alive. Had he been thinking of this then? Had he been planning this from the moment Paul had died?
‘You know, Ellen, you have a choice. You can be my mistress and I shall continue to keep you. Or you may take your son and go and walk the streets, and perhaps become the mistress of a hundred different men to earn enough to feed and keep your son…’
She looked to the ceiling and prayed for help.What can I do?
