When the earth righted itself again, he collapsed and rolled onto his side, bringing her with him. He wanted to stroke her back, but he couldn't move. He couldn't so much as make a fist. Truth be known, he could barely breathe. He'd never experienced such intense lovemaking in his entire life, and an inner warmth more wonderful than anything he'd ever felt pervaded his entire system.
He loved her.
By God he loved her.
Loved her so much he ached.
He stilled. But what if she didn't return his feelings? What if-
He ruthlessly cut off the thought. She simply had to love him, and that's all there was to it. And if she didn't now, he'd just find some way to make her love him. As much as he loved her.
The words he'd never spoken to anyone welled up inside him. He needed to tell her. Had to tell her. He wondered if she already knew. Had she read his mind? Discerned his feelings? Possibly, but she'd never said so. But even if she had divined his feelings, she deserved the words.
Turning his head he brushed his lips over her temple, then leaned back, determined to look in her eyes when he told her he loved her.
With his heart pounding, he opened his mouth to speak, then shut it.
His wife, his robust, energetic wife, was fast asleep. "Elizabeth?"
A soft snore was his only response. Well, bloody hell.
Shame filled him. How selfish of him to worry about his own needs when she'd had such an exhausting evening. By damn, she'd fainted in his arms only an hour ago. If he wanted to win this woman's love, he needed to banish his selfishness to the devil. His Elizabeth wouldn't be bought with baubles, titles, and jewels. But he could win her with kindness. And love.
Love. A smile tugged one corner of his mouth.
He'd finally put a name to the "Elizabeth feeling."
Careful not to wake her, he pulled the counterpane over them and settled her comfortably against him. After listening to her even breathing for several minutes, he pressed his lips to her forehead.
"I love you," he whispered. "I love you."
Chapter 18
The vision slipped into Elizabeth's slumber with the stealth of a master thief.
Images weaved through the shadowy recesses of her mind curling like vaporous plumes of smoke only to dance just out of reach.
A child. A beautiful little girl with shiny ebony curls and bright, gray eyes. Running, laughing, calling, "Mama!"
Then the vision changed. Laughter turned to fear. The child's terrified screams filled Elizabeth's mind reverberating through her, filling her with dread.
The child's angelic face turned to a pale mask of fright. Womanly hands reached out to her, but the child seemed to glide farther out of reach, until she disappeared completely from sight, leaving only the echo of her sobs.
Then Austin, torn apart with such grief, such desolation and guilt, that Elizabeth barely recognized him. His voice was a ragged whisper, I cannot live without her… please God, don't tell me I've killed her by bringing her here.
Elizabeth awoke with a startled gasp. Her heart slammed against her ribs and her lungs burned as if she'd run for miles. Yet she felt chilled down to her very soul.
Her eyes sought out Austin, who lay in peaceful slumber next to her. Thank goodness he was asleep, for she was incapable of speaking.
But dear God she would have to tell him.
He had to know that she'd seen the death of a child.
A child whose death he would blame himself for.
A child with his ebony hair and gray eyes.
His child.
Their child.
Austin opened one eye. From the sliver of pale light peeking through the burgundy velvet curtains, he judged it was just after dawn-a perfectly respectable time to awaken his bride with soft kisses, gentle lovemaking, and tender confessions of love.
Turning his head he discovered his bride on the other side of his massive bed lying curled on her side, facing away from him. Too far away to touch.
Acute disappointment flooded him, and he nearly laughed aloud at himself. Bloody hell, what a besotted lovesick individual he'd become. And in an appallingly short period of time. No doubt I'll be spouting poetry by dinner. Sonnets by sundown. A chuckle rumbled in his chest. Yes, indeed, he could all but picture himself, down on one knee, passionately reciting "Ode to Elizabeth."
He had only to shift closer to be able to wrap his arms around her, feel her warmth, but he knew once he did that, there would be no more slumber for her. Don't be selfish. Let her sleep. Clasping his hands behind his head he forced himself to remain where he was and not disturb her rest, at least for a few more minutes. Yes, he'd simply lie here and marvel at how this woman had so drastically changed his life. And all of it for the better.
He imagined the ribbing he was going to receive from both Miles and Robert when they realized the "Notorious Duke of Bradford" had fallen under his own wife's spell. And they absolutely would realize it because it would be impossible for him to hide his love for Elizabeth.
And he didn't even want to try. Of course, it was highly unfashionable to be in love with one's own wife, but he couldn't have cared less.
A grin he couldn't suppress eased across his face. Yes, Robert and Miles would needle him unmercifully. But I'll have my revenge when love bites them on their unsuspecting arses. And it will. If it can happen to me, it can happen to anyone.
He couldn't wait another minute to touch her.
He wouldn't wake her… he'd simply hold her. Moving carefully, he slid across the bed until he lay behind her, then eased his arm around her waist.
The instant he touched her, she gasped.
"Good morning, love," he said pressing a kiss to her shoulder. "I didn't mean to wake you."
"I… I thought you were asleep."
"I was. But now I'm awake. And so are you. Hrnmm." He buried his face in her hair and breathed in her lilac scent. Slipping his arm more snugly around her, he eased her closer, molding her back to his front.
He stilled when she stiffened in his embrace. "Don't," she whispered. Before he could ask her what was wrong, she pulled from his embrace and sat up, covering herself with the counterpane.
He quickly sat up. "Elizabeth? Are you all right?"
When she didn't answer, he cupped her chin, gently turning her averted face until she looked at him.
She was crying. Her eyes looked like huge, golden brown wells of hurt. The usual warmth that shimmered in her gaze was gone, replaced by an utterly bleak expression that broke his heart.
He let go of her chin and gripped her arms. "What's wrong? Are you hurt?"
Instead of answering his question, she simply looked at him with those pain-filled eyes. Something akin to panic slithered down his back.
He gave her a tiny shake. "Tell me what's wrong."
"I… I have something to tell you."
"About William?"
"No. About me."
Ah. So that's what this was about. Clearly she was finally going to share her secrets with him… explain why she'd left America so suddenly.
Relief edged aside his alarm and he relaxed his hold on her arms. Obviously she trusted him enough to bare her soul. And if she trusted him… wasn't it logical that love would soon follow?
God was she going to tell him she loved him? And if so, she was no doubt agonizing over the decision because she didn't know how he felt about her. Because she'd never heard him tell her. She was probably afraid that he'd reject her love.
But that was a fear he could place to rest with three simple words.
"Elizabeth, I I-" "I lied to you."
Definitely not the words he'd hoped or expected to hear. "I beg your pardon?"