Chapter Five
Thornton Hall
West Berkshire
England
Around three o’clock in the morning, the carriage finally arrived at Cecil’s country estate.
To be fair, his driver had been a marvel on the darkened roads with only the lanterns to illuminate the area.
Of course, Cecil had been a heel when he’d ordered the man to drive at night in a carriage instead of the coach, but seeing Emma again, being with her, fucking her senseless in that garden without any sort of greeting or soft words had made an impression on him.
In truth, that unexpected meeting had shaken him to his core.
And he suspected that life truly would never be the same.
Without many words between them, he’d escorted her into the manor house, and in the entry hall, he’d promptly left his wife to her own devices, for he sought out his bed, no doubt further damning him in her thinking.
Around two o’clock in the afternoon, he’d finally woken and knew he couldn’t avoid her any longer. With thoughts of Emma occupying his mind, he’d done the necessary and proceeded to ablutions and dressing by himself, for his valet was in London.
Perhaps it was better being alone, but once Childers figured out that Cecil had retreated to Thornton Hall, he would eventually make his way there.
God, he’d missed Emma during their separation.
Even though he’d been lost to the horrors of his mind much of that time, as well as hiding from everyone because of his looks, she’d been that tiny little glimmer of hope, of help, through that darkness, but was he even now too broken to keep her?
With his high-handed bit of control that had forced the frantic coupling last night, had he already lost her?
There had been no mistaking the message in her words, for she’d basically given him an ultimatum—ensure a viable marriage or cut her loose so she could find a life with another man.
Just thinking about that made his blood turn cold.
As he manipulated the snowy folds of his cravat, he frowned at his reflection in the looking glass mounted upon one wall.
How had he responded to her request—her plea, really—for talking and explanation?
He’d fucking kidnapped her. His own bloody wife.
Without taking her needs or wishes into account. Like the monster that he was.
Bah.
Would he ever pass a day without making a mistake?
Once he concluded his toilette, Cecil left his suite.
If the servants were surprised at his sudden presence since he’d arrived during the early hours of the morning, they were too well-trained to say anything.
Where had his wife gone to upon arrival?
Had she roused the housekeeper and maids in the middle of the night to fit up the duchess suite?
Why had he been such a prick that he wouldn’t have at least seen her settled?
God, I am a monster, aren’t I?
So, like the coward he was, Cecil avoided seeking her out.
Instead, he chose to ride about his estate in the cold, and welcomed the burn of the winter air in his lungs.
After that, he spoke to the butler and informed that austere man of Emma’s presence in the manor, and he asked Parsons to make certain she had been settled into the duchess suite and was made comfortable.
With nothing else to do that would help him avoid coming into contact with his wife, he made inroads to seek her out around teatime.
That was when his stomach reminded him that he hadn’t yet broken his fast for the day, but he was of dual appetites—for both food and her.
It was unaccountable, for she’d essentially been out of his life for nearly two years.
How the devil had one fast and furious meeting between them last night prompted this gnawing hunger?
He didn’t know, but the one thing he was quite certain about was his need to claim Emma’s body again, to make certain to himself while his mind was fairly clear that something of value remained between them that was worth fighting for.
With determination, Cecil made his way down the upper corridor to the duchess suite.
Hesitating just a second, he decided against knocking or otherwise announcing his presence, for there was every possibility that she would deny him access to her rooms. Instead, he pressed the brass handle and pushed open the door.
Bloody fucking hell.
Shock plowed into his chest, for his wife was just making her way out of a porcelain bathtub.
The scent of lavender filled the air, no doubt due to the bar of finely milled French soap resting with a sea sponge on a low footstool near the tub.
Immediately, he was enchanted and aroused as he looked his fill at her body.
How could he not be? They’d still been in their honeymoon period of marriage when he’d broken all contact with her.
And the hunger for her intensified.
As the young maid held out a thin cotton robe of a light blue hue, Emma wrapped the garment around herself, but the fabric clung to her damp curves. With a quick glance at him, her rose-colored lips formed a brief, tight line.
“Thank you, Poppy. That will be all for now. I’ll ring should I require help dressing in a bit.
” The maid with raven black hair was the same one she used to have when she and he had resided at Thornton Hall before.
Then she landed her gaze on him, and it narrowed.
Clearly, she was not in the best temper with him, and she was well within her rights not to be.
“Of course, Your Grace.” With a look of curiosity between them, Poppy exited and softly closed the door behind her.
Once alone, Emma tied the sash of the robe about her waist then she crossed her arms beneath her breasts while glaring at him.
Lightning fairly sparked in her gray eyes.
“Perhaps I should curtsy, for His Grace has finally decided to make an appearance and attend to me.” Sarcasm dripped from her words.
He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing at the annoyed image she made.
A damned arousing image at that, for he could see every line of her body beneath that damp wrapper, and he remembered each and every nuance of her form.
“I was sleeping.” Tightening his fingers on the head of his cane, he continued to devour her with his eyes.
“How nice for you.” A tiny shiver racked her shoulders. Was it from his attention? “While you retired without an apparent care in the world, I had to rouse the poor staff so they could fit up my suite, and when I finally laid down, my mind was a whirl and wouldn’t quiet.”
“I do have some experience in that.” Not that she wished to listen to that. “After rising, I went for a ride and did a few things around the manor before wishing to seek you out.”
“It must be lovely to be the duke. While you slumbered in dreamland, I worried about you, about me, about us together. Wondered what would become of this madcap trip to Thorton Hall. Finally, when dawn broke, I asked for a bath with a light breakfast, and still my nerves aren’t settled.”
“I am sorry to hear that.” As he spoke, Cecil couldn’t help but rake his gaze up and down her person again.
She was quite delicious. When she half-stifled a gasp, he allowed a half-grin.
That connection between them was still alive and well.
Perhaps there was hope for them yet. “I know what it’s like to not fall into a deep sleep. It makes for a shitty day following.”
“Especially since I have been forced to take up residence here,” she was quick to add.
Or perhaps not. “You adore Thornton Hall.”
“I do, but on my own terms. Not because you’ve decided to kidnap me and spirit me here in the dead of winter.”
“Spring is not far off.” He huffed. “It was a moment’s decision. I was afraid that if I discussed my plans with you beforehand, you would reject them… and me.”
Slowly, she nodded. “I can appreciate the reticence then.” For long moments, they stared at each other.
As her nipples tightened and made themselves known through the thin fabric of her wrapper, she cleared her throat.
“Why are you here, Thornton? Surely it isn’t for pleasantries. You were never one for them.”
“I’m hungry.” Hadn’t he already explained that part?
She waved a hand in dismissal. “Then ring for a maid or footman to bring you something to eat. I do not serve you in that capacity.”
No, she did not, thank goodness. He took a few steps toward her, but she retreated. “I am not hungry for food. At least, not just yet.”
The door opened and two footmen came in to retrieve the bath, prompting another long stretch of silence while the tub was drained and the water collected into large wooden buckets.
Emma narrowed her eyes and lowered her voice. “You had what you wanted last night. Isn’t that enough?”
Would it ever be? Not while he recalled how his mind had briefly quieted when he’d been in her company anew. “Well, now I want that again.” He glanced at the footmen as one of them carried out two buckets of used water then back at her. “I want you, because you are my wife.”
“Who you have ignored.” Clearly, she wasn’t of a mind to give ground.
Fair enough. He welcomed the upcoming battle, for perhaps it would clear the air, so to speak, between them.
“You summoned me back to London with your careless behavior. Now you’ll reap the consequences.
” Because he was an arse, he added. “It doesn’t matter what you want.
” Only afterward did he remember there were two other footmen in the room with them.
With a slight gasp, Emma’s eyes rounded. Faint fear reflected in those cloudy, gray depths. “Surely after last night, you wouldn’t dare.”
Unaccountably annoyed, both at her and at himself, for he simply couldn’t stop acting the ogre, Cecil shrugged. He rested his cane against a winged-back chair. “Let’s discover if I will, shall we?” Around a growl, he included the footmen in his gaze. “Get out.”