Page 90 of Foolish Bride
He released his grip on her and stared with wide eyes.
She leaped from his lap.
His face was a mixture of confusion and sadness but most of all, he looked tired. His normally tanned skin was pale and sickly. His bright eyes were ringed red with dark circles underneath. Sitting on the ground amongst the rubble, he almost looked fragile.
“Are you ill?” She was torn between worry and exhaustion. She needed him to be the strong one.
Finally, he got up off the ground. He took a step closer, but she backed away an equal distance. He did not pursue. “I am just tired.”
“Everett.” She’d forgotten. She must have hit her head harder than she thought. She grabbed Michael’s arms.
He crushed her to him. Her ribs ached, but not enough to break the contact. Desperate to be near him, she clung tightly.
“He was alive when I left Marlton. I spoke to him, but he was very weak.”
Utter sorrow engulfed her. “He’s just a boy. He tried to save me, but he’s just a boy. You have been through so much. I’ll bet you have not slept, and here I am being churlish.”
He eased her away and lifted her chin. “I think, my love, you have been put through quite an ordeal yourself, and it is all because of me. I shall not censure you for being put out.” His voice filled with humor. “After all, you were kidnapped and forced to marry against your will.”
Where was her brain?“The priest.”
“What priest?” Michael’s face filled with confusion.
“The one who married me, of course. He’s locked in the dungeon. My God, I hope the dungeon did not collapse as well. He can attest to the wrongness of the entire marriage. He knows that I did not wish to marry that…that…mongrel. He was there when I vomited. He will testify, or whatever it is one must do to dissolve a marriage.”
“A priest. I suppose we’ll have to go to the pope.” Michael shook his head. “Come, love, we’ll find the others and the priest, then we can head for England.”
* * * *
When they stopped at an inn, it was midnight. Elinor fought to keep her eyes open. The tavern was a blur. She vaguely remembered Michael paying a large man with a bald head and an apron for several rooms, including one for the priest. She did not see Roxton again and worried where he had gotten to.
She remembered the weightless feeling of being lifted into Michael’s arms and carried upstairs. He gently kissed her forehead and left her sitting on the edge of the bed.
She must have dosed off, because some time later, a bath appeared in the middle of the room, and two maids helped her out of Brianne’s dirty but serviceable dress and into the tub. They scrubbed her for an eternity before putting a soft shift over her head and tucking her into bed.
When her eyes opened again, the candle flickered. She scanned the small, clean room. The sky outside was still black and the tub was gone, as were the two women. She had no idea how long she had slept, or even if it was the same night. Her dress was nowhere to be seen, which was concerning, but she slipped back to sleep.
His scent warmed her before she opened her eyes and confirmed that Michael had slipped into the bed beside her. Snuggling in deeper, she sighed and smiled at the little moan of contentment that rumbled in his throat.
“Was there something wrong with your room, your grace?” she asked, her lips touching his bare chest.
“Yes. You were not in there. I didn’t want to wake you, but it was torture to not touch you. Forgive me.”
“Is it nearly morning?”
He nodded against the top of her head. “Another hour until the sun is up.”
She kissed the hollow of his neck, then stuck her tongue out, licking his warm skin and kissing his corded neck.
He moaned. “Elinor, do you know what you’re doing?”
She giggled. “I think so. What are you going to do about it, your grace?”
His hand moved down her shoulder and caressed the side of her breast before he took her nipple between his thumb and forefinger and pinched.
She gasped with the pleasure that shot from her breast to where her thighs met.
Then he dipped his head down and took the same nipple between his lips, sucking gently.
