Chapter 11 #2
Waves of pleasure spiralled through me, and I gasped, dragging him down into my arms. My body pulsed, bright lights shimmered behind my eyelids, and I clutched him, rigid as I saw out the aftershocks.
“Thank God, at last.” I groaned, my head spinning.
I opened my eyes, expecting a smug grin. But if anything, Gordain looked wild.
“Your shoulder!” I released my hand from where I’d clamped him to me. I’d held on to him hard.
“What shoulder?” Gordain didn’t budge. Instead, he took my mouth in a blistering kiss. Then he leapt up and strode out of the room. “Be right back. Don’t move,” he called before the bathroom door slammed.
I lay still, my bones melted from the spectacular orgasm. If Gordain could do that without us even taking our clothes off, what could he do in a bed with no restraint?
I could hardly imagine.
More the point, what was he doing in the bathroom?
After a minute, he returned. He sat and pulled my legs onto his lap then grabbed up his bowl, finishing the last forkfuls of pasta, his movements buoyant and an infectious smile tweaking his lips.
“Did you just…” I gestured with my head to the door. “I could’ve…” Except I wouldn’t have a clue how to touch him, let alone do it well. At least now, I wasn’t embarrassed about learning on him.
He lifted his chin. “This was about you, not me. But there was no chance I was getting to sleep next to ye tonight without taking the pressure off.”
Fresh heat spread through me at the thought of him touching himself. “I’m sleeping with you tonight?”
“Aye. Unless you don’t want to.”
I did. The nasty taste Richard’s email had given me returned, and I craved the safety of Gordain’s arms. I gave him a minute nod.
Gordain stood and collected me in his arms and carried me into the hall.
In his bedroom, he laid me out on the bed and grabbed a t-shirt from a drawer, handing it to me.
Then he gave me a minute to change before he returned and climbed into his big, comfortable bed next to me.
Gordain killed the light, dragged me onto him, and laid a soft kiss on my hair.
We settled together in the dark, just our breathing filling the space.
A year ago, I couldn’t have imagined this—being in bed with a man I’d fantasised over. Weirder still, how well we fitted.
“Stop overthinking things, Ella,” Gordain mumbled. “We’re just sleeping.”
So I slept.
Iwoke hot, my thigh over Gordain’s and my head on his uninjured shoulder.
Gordain slept on, his breathing even and deep. He was an early riser, so I could only imagine how exhausted he must have been when he’d got home last night. Still, he took care of me, with his skilled body and his swoonworthy kissing lesson.
With care, I slid to the side. Gordain’s bedroom, like his lounge, had little slit windows, with glass but no curtains, so there was just enough of the early morning light to see his sleeping form. I took my fill, memorising his handsome face, his rugged jaw, and teasing mouth.
“You staring at me?” He stretched both arms over his head before bringing them back to encircle me.
“I was.”
“Like what you see?” In a flash, Gordain rolled on top of me and gazed into my eyes.
I held my breath. The two boxes I’d put him into weren’t so clear-cut in the light of day.
He pulled back an inch, registering my expression, confusion replacing the contentment on his face.
Someone hammered on the door.
“Wake up! Everyone’s on their way back!” Ally yelled. “You’ve got fifteen minutes until they’re here.”
“Oh shit!” I shoved Gordain off me and leapt from his bed. The morning chill nipped my ankles. I sought my clothes.
Gordain rose to rest on his elbow. He drew his eyebrows in and glanced between me and the door, no urgency in his moves.
Then I paused, because there was nothing wrong in me being in his room, not that I’d share the details with anyone.
“Not sure why I’m rushing,” I said. “Ally startled me.”
Gordain sighed. “Here.” He leaned and grabbed a blue hoodie from the chair. “It’ll be chilly in the castle as ye flee to your room.”
“Thanks.” I pulled it on then made for the door. I gave him one last glance.
Gordain only watched me, his posture rigid and his eyes dark.
I left him there, regret stinging me, and I had no idea why.
After a quick shower and a change of clothes, I returned downstairs to the great hall.
Noise rose to the rafters from the twins reuniting, and two of Callum’s estate workers, burly men I’d seen around the grounds, talked to the laird about pressing business.
I couldn’t see my brother or Beth. Gordain stood at the edge, and his gaze found mine.
I offered him a small smile. It bounced off his indecipherable expression.
Then Mathilda said my name, pulling my attention away. “Ella. I need to talk to you.”
She directed me to the den and closed us in.
“Where’s my brother?” I asked. “Why did you all come back so soon?”
The woman twisted her mouth, and it was only then I registered the pain in her eyes. “Beth is unwell. She took ill at the hotel on our first evening.”
I clasped my hands to my mouth. “Is she okay? Is the baby okay?”
“She’s in hospital in Manchester with your brother. We rushed home. The baby’s fine. No need to panic.” She closed her mouth and opened it again, deep concern apparent in her pause. Mathilda’s hands travelled to her belly.
A rush of fear swamped me.
“Can I call my brother? Do you think that would be okay?” My hand shook and I extracted my phone.
“Of course. He’ll be waiting for your call. He tried you a couple of times. He reminded me that you have your driving test later. After that, Callum and I will see you home.”
I thanked her and dialled James. He answered on the first ring. Mathilda left the room, giving me privacy.
“Ella, I’m sorry, I should have sent a text.”
“Don’t be ridiculous! Tell me everything.
” I hated it, the formality between us, the distance Richard had created, straining mine and James’s relationship.
If for a minute I’d considered telling my brother about the contact I’d had from our uncle, the thought now left my head. He didn’t need more stress.
James gave me a brief rundown of how Beth’s morning sickness had worsened significantly, to the point she couldn’t eat or drink anything.
My brother had panicked and called out a doctor who’d advised that she should come home with a drip in her arm and a nurse to care for her. Not that James would leave her side.
“She’s going to be okay,” he said, strain apparent in his voice. “It’s just an extreme form of morning sickness. But she was just so ill and weak… I was beside myself. With what happened to Mum and Dad…”
He stopped, and my heart gave a thump. Our parents’ deaths might have been a decade ago, but that didn’t diminish the loss.
“I’m so sorry,” I replied. “I’ll come home.”
“We should be back tonight. The doctors are just making sure she’s okay,” he said. “Oh, and Ella, call Howard Marks. We found out more before Beth got sick, but he’s better placed to tell you than I am.”
I made a promise to do so, and we hung up.
I called the lawyer on autopilot, not really thinking about whether this was the best time to hear any news.
“Lady Elinor Fitzroy,” Howard greeted me.
“Just Ella, please,” I mumbled, my mind far away.
Howard gave me an update on the latest they’d found out on Richard’s investments. The evidence James sought had been there, so at least the trip had some small benefit.
“Are we going to take him to court?” I asked. How much pressure would that add to my brother?
“That is in motion, and Richard’s businesses will be frozen in due course. But there’s also the matter of your guardianship.”
I perked up. The order that gave my uncle control of my money for years longer was my greatest source of anxiety. “Please say you’ve cut him off.”
“No,” the lawyer said, his tone apologetic. “But we have put forward papers to have the order made over to your brother. It’s complicated and is likely to take many months—”
“What else can we do?” I interrupted. I didn’t want James to be bothered by me, to have to manage my affairs. I wanted independence for everyone’s sake. “There has to be another way.”
“The only immediate route is for you to be married. It would give you legal majority by way of a loophole in the guardianship order. These things are antiquated by nature and therefore make the assumption your husband would become your guardian.” Howard dropped the words like a bomb.
He’d briefly mentioned the idea in a conversation just after James had inherited, but I had dismissed it right away.
“But I don’t want to get married. I don’t even have a boyfriend.”
The man grumbled and puffed on the other end of the line. “I cannot advise you to break the law, but if you were to consider a temporary arrangement… Without telling me the fact, of course. That would meet the criteria.”
I blinked, my mouth open.
A temporary marriage which would get Richard off my back. Which would take the burden of looking after me off my brother. Which would enable me to be independent of my asshole of an uncle.
“Tell me more.”