Chapter Three
Bloody fucking hell.
Cecil didn’t know what had possessed him to act like a complete ogre the moment he saw his wife again, but here he was, spiriting her off over his shoulder like a monster without a modicum on sense in his brain.
The February chill in the air didn’t bother him as he carried Emma into the rear garden of Darkemore’s townhouse.
How could it when white-hot lust replaced the blood in his veins?
But seeing her, smiling up at that damned Galahad of all men?
Flirting with him with heat in her eyes.
Would she have gone off with him if he hadn’t come along when he did?
Over my dead body.
With those thoughts tumbling about in his head, Cecil carried her to the back of the garden, and at the brick wall that went around the area, he finally deposited her onto her feet.
It was a relief to put her down, for his left leg ached horribly carrying the added weight, which meant he was more reliant on the cane than usual.
Emma promptly drew back a hand and delivered a hard slap to his cheek.
Though it wasn’t as stinging as it could have been due to her glove, it still took him by surprise as warmth seeped into his skin.
Since she was several inches shorter than he, Emma glared up at him with anger and something else he couldn’t identify flashing in her gray eyes.
“Don’t you ever think to embarrass me like that in public again. That was outside of enough.”
“How droll of you to call me out on that when you’ve been doing nothing but embarrassing me for months.” Without giving her the opportunity for rebuttal, Cecil yanked her into his arms and brought his mouth crashing down on hers while his cane fell to the cold, hard ground with a dull thud.
The kiss was designed to punish her and remind her that she remained married to him.
At no point was there gentleness or teasing involved.
In fact, that one meeting of mouths was quite exacting, but the second his lips touched hers, memories of why he’d married her in the first place took hold, danced through his consciousness, and the realization that he’d missed her profoundly over the last two years made itself known.
Just like the nightmares that haunted him once the darkness of the night took hold, he didn’t want to confront the memories, feel the guilt of what might have been between them merely because of this little kiss.
And besides, that remembrance was probably as warped as his mind.
Nothing was real anymore. The anxiety he struggled with whispered through his head that Emma couldn’t possibly love a man like him, a man who’d done what he’d done while in the war, a man as hideous and disfigured with scars like he was, that the connection that flared anew with each subsequent kiss was surely a lie.
All of it stirred his insecurities as well as his fears.
To bury those demons, Cecil kissed her again with more force and more possession, perhaps to punish them both.
Perhaps to forget…
“What are you fucking doing out here with me?” he whispered between kisses as he wrenched off his gloves and threw them to the cold, hard ground at his feet.
To her credit, she defied him in even that with a snort of derision. “I’m here because you carried me, you dolt, gave me no choice.”
“I meant why are you still with me?” For the span of a few heartbeats, those insecurities reared their ugly heads to bedevil him.
“I’m no one of consequence, not nearly worthy of you.
You should have asked your father to petition for a divorce on your behalf.
” Perhaps it would further drive him away from her, and perhaps that was as it should be.
“My father is not in the country at the moment, and even if he was, I have reservations about ending our marriage like that. It is for you to decide.”
“Why?” That took him by surprise.
“Because, as stupid as it sounds, there is a kernel of hope within my heart that we can come about.” When she reached a hand up to briefly lay it against the cheek she’d already abused, she moved his head until their gazes met. “You might be broken but that doesn’t mean you aren’t still strong.”
How could she even know or guess what ailed him? He had his pride, after all, and he didn’t want her to discover how deeply flawed he was. “Bah. If you would truly look at me, realize the mistake we both made—”
“You think marrying me was a mistake?” Emotions flitted through her eyes, but it was too dark in the garden to identify them.
When he didn’t answer, she continued, her breath coming in frosty puffs.
“Since you haven’t explained anything to me, I’ll wager your mind has been warped, and you’ve confused those deranged whisperings with reality. ”
“Perhaps…”
She nodded. “Your mind is playing tricks on you. If you think you’re broken, it merely means you went above and beyond and now are trying to find a way to reckon with what remains. And it’s another reason why you should let me help you.”
That made far too much sense, but he couldn’t grapple with that right now.
“I…” He was rapidly losing his grip on reality even more than usual, but this type of insanity was welcome and not something to be frightened of…
much. His wife apparently hadn’t lost the power to bring him to his knees.
“I am a burden, a monster. Somone who could harm you.” His breath clouded around his head in the cold.
“A hideous beast who shouldn’t be seen within society any longer. ”
“So you’ve decided to act like it? To gnash your teeth and growl, and when you don’t get your way, you carry women back to your lair?
” When she tried to pull away, he kept her pinned between his body and the brick wall at her back.
“Let me return inside. It’s quite chilly out here, and I refuse to talk with you if you continue to act like an ogre. ”
How much had he once admired that spirit?
Just having her back in his arms like this was tempting fate, would make him want something he shouldn’t have.
Except he craved that light of hope she represented.
“No. I’m not nearly through with you.” Perhaps he was naught but a monster, then, for he couldn’t think clearly with her so close. “Beast or not, you still belong to me.”
Her eyes rounded, and from the faint spills of golden light from the windows of the house, fear shadowed her face. “Thornton, you can’t mean to—”
Not wishing to hear more words that would plunge him into confusion and a mire of guilt and shame, Cecil framed her head with his hands, kissed her deeply and with as much passion and emotion as he could manage.
Despite everything, he’d missed her, but he didn’t wish to tell her because he knew, deep down inside of himself, that he wasn’t good enough for her.
Telling her about himself by letters had been one thing, but having her peel back layer after layer of his true self was quite another.
Now was not the time to analyze any of what was circling through his brain.
He merely wanted her, to claim her body because even though they’d been apart for a couple of years, she was still his wife, and she had no right to tryst with any other man, especially not someone from his damned club.
Mine.
The kisses were frantic, powerful, almost desperate, but she did kiss him back, so there was that.
As he reacquainted himself with the pillowy softness of her lips, he worked the buttons at the back of her gown.
The fabric slipped over his fingers like water, and the contrast between the cold air and the warmth of her skin was delicious.
As soon as the bodice of the garment gaped, it took next to no time to tug that portion down.
When the fabric of her stays and chemise beneath kept her breasts shrouded from his gaze, he growled like the animal that he was, and delved deeper, yanking, pulling, wrenching, until those full charms were bared to him in the chilly night air.
“Dear God, you are still beautiful.” Had he been a nodcock to leave her? Even if it was for the best, even if she couldn’t understand the why right now?
“Don’t think to shower me with flattery or pretty words.” She put a hand to his chest and gave him a push. Little good it did. He stood his ground. “Leave off. I don’t wish to play this game.”
“It’s not a game. Unfortunately, my life is raw and real and messy.”
She huffed. “I haven’t seen or heard from you in nearly two years. If you think I’m going to welcome you by giving you my body—”
He interrupted her protest with yet another kiss.
Over and over, he took from her, chased her tongue with his and all the while, he brushed the pads of his thumbs over her hardened, pebbled nipples.
Though she fought against him, he refused to relinquish his need or ignore her own.
Eventually, she moaned, and he rolled those buds from root to tip.
“Thornton, no. Don’t do this.” Her words were small and trailing in the silence of the frozen garden. “Not here.”
“I must.” Urgency and pleasure coursed through his body to harden his shaft to the point of painfulness, but he strove to ignore it all in favor of concentrating on her. “Dear God, Emma, we used to be so good together.”
“Before you threw it away to hide like a coward.”
“I deserve that.” Not wanting to show her that her words had hurt him, Cecil kissed his way down her body, between the perfect globes of her breasts, down her torso, past the soft swell of her belly then her mons, encouraging the skirt of her gown upward as he went.
The beribboned garters holding up silken stockings had his mind jogging to memories of the times they’d enjoyed each other’s bodies, when all was right in the world…
Before he’d gone a bit mad, perhaps.