Page 74 of One Wicked Secret
That’s what hurt the most.
That’s why all her fears came tumbling out of her mouth, a wild torrent of mixed emotions. “Two shillings! Who marries a woman based on a flimsy promise? I shall spend my whole life wondering if you’re here because you want me or because you’re fulfilling an oath.”
His jaw tensed, but he didn’t raise his voice. She saw a shadow of pain in his eyes before he closed the gap between them. “You know the truth. It’s there in every touch and passionate kiss.”
“Then why does doubt linger between us like a spectre in the darkness? Why am I plagued by uncertainty? Why am I afraid nothing is as it seems?”
He cupped her elbow. “Elsa, I did this. I did this when I failed to confide in you. I created the problem when I left you at The Grange.”
Now she felt guilty because it wasn’t his fault either.
A sudden knock on the door brought the footmen.
She expected Daniel to send them away, but he welcomed them in with their steaming buckets. “Bring the bath from the dressing room in here.”
The servants carried in a copper bath large enough for two, filling it with water scented with her husband’s musky cologne. Steam curled into the air, thick with his arousing aroma. They laid clean linen towels on the bed, bowed and left the room.
Daniel locked the door, then crossed to the window and drew the heavy curtains.
“I understand your fears,” he said, slowly peeling off his coat and hanging it over the chair. “You trusted me once, and I broke your heart. But I couldn’t let that murdering devil hurt you.”
“I know I said we should live in the present, but I wish Icould go back to the time when all I had in my heart was hope.”
Sadness darkened his eyes. “We can’t go back. I don’t know how I can convince you to trust me, but you must let me try.” With deft fingers, he unfastened the buttons on his waistcoat and dropped it onto the chair.
She watched him untie his cravat. Years ago, she would have sold her soul to spend five minutes alone with him in his bedchamber.
“I’m to blame for Clara’s scar,” he admitted, sitting on the edge of the bed and slipping off his blucher boots. “My father and I rarely agreed on anything. Our arguments often became scuffles. Clara charged into the fray to prevent a fight on more than one occasion.”
A sick feeling roiled in her stomach. “You hurt Clara?”
“I would never hurt Clara. But I can say no more without breaking an oath.” He stood, pulling his shirt over his head, revealing the bronzed skin and muscular physique that turned her blood molten. “I would like to make love to my wife, but therein lies another problem.”
Her heart sank to her stomach. “You’re afraid, in doing so, you will know what happened in Mr Carver’s cottage?” That dratted event would always be a blight on their relationship.
“I don’t care about Carver. I care about our first time together. But I know the past haunts you. And if we’re to have any future at all, I fear it hinges on what happens next.” He nodded toward the bath. “So, you have three choices. Perhaps four, though I strongly advise against the last.”
Her mind ran amok. “I can only think of two.”
“Then permit me to enlighten you.”
She nodded. “I presume one of them is for you to leave.”
“I would never force you to do anything against your will. But yes. I can say goodnight, and we can discuss this at a later date. Or we can agree some mountains are too difficult to climb and decide to live separately.”
The last prospect chilled her to the bone. Nothing would be more painful than saying goodbye.
“And the other two options?”
A weak smile touched his lips. “We make love in the bath. There’ll be no evidence left on the bed sheets. I’ll arouse you to the point it won’t be painful. Neither of us need think about the past again.”
“You mean we’ll live in ignorance?”
“If that’s what you want.”
She fell silent. The last option was to make love in bed. Sometimes a virgin barely bled, and then he might believe a lie. And this shouldn’t be about a spot of blood on a white sheet. It should be about two people battling the odds in the hope of finding happiness.
“Either way, I need to bathe,” he said, pushing his trousers past his lean hips to reveal his flaccid manhood.
