Slave to the Night (The Brotherhood 2)

It took a moment for the words to penetrate her addled mind. Henry was dead, and she had acted like a fool. Too ashamed to look at Lord Markham, she wrapped her arms around his waist, took comfort in the warmth and security he provided.

"I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me."

"Hush. It doesn't matter," he said. "It's my fault."

She jerked away and forced herself to look at him. "No," she said shaking her head vigorously. "You have done nothing wrong. It is me, Elliot. I am tainted by the memory of a monster."

He pulled her back into his chest and continued with his soothing ministrations. "You can trust me, Grace. We can be friends. I won't press you for anything more."

A feeling akin to grief flared. Friends would not be enough for her; she knew that now. "Give me another chance."

He kissed the top of her head. "Grace, I will give you anything you desire. But we cannot continue like this. You need to help me understand."

Sucking in a deep breath for courage, she nodded and stepped back. "Lie with me, Elliot. Just hold me in your arms and I will tell you."

Mesmerising green eyes scanned the bed behind her. "This will be a first for me," he said with a smile as he took her hand and led her to the bed.

To know that he had never been this intimate with any other woman caused her heart to soar and she lay down next to him, let him gather her into his arms.

"I assume the monster you refer to is Henry?"

It was easier to talk about it in the dark. Being enveloped in a warm embrace gave her the strength to continue.

"Henry was to marry Caroline. He had loved her since they were children. But as the years passed it became more apparent that a provincial life was not for her." Grace placed her hand on his chest as it brought her comfort. "In his desperation, he did everything he could to persuade her to settle down with him. His parents made things increasingly more difficult for mine. When my father died, my mother was not strong enough to fight them."

Elliot stroked her hair, ran his hand down her back. "Are you saying you married a man you didn't love to help your sister and your mother?"

Grace swallowed deeply. It shocked her just how perceptive he was. It shamed her to admit she had been so naive.

"Henry thought that if he pressured me to marry him instead, as the eldest, Caroline would be forced to honour her responsibilities. Even in those final few minutes before we walked from the church as man and wife, I think he believed she would change her mind."

"Good heavens. Did you know he felt that way when you married him?"

"Of course not." Henry would have put Judas to shame. His kind and courteous nature masked the depth of his deceit. "I found this all out later. Indeed, Henry made it his mission to ensure I never forgot it. I think he punished me as a way of punishing Caroline."

Elliot gave a contemptuous snort. "But you never told her, did you? She came to London blissfully unaware of the devastation she had left behind."

"It wasn't her fault. It was mine. A cold-hearted devil tricked me into marriage. I was foolish enough to believe he cared. I thought it would be enough, that I would eventually grow to love him."

They lay in silence, but in her mind it sounded noisy and hectic.

Elliot turned onto his side to face her. "I am not Henry Denton, Grace. When I … when I kiss you, it is my passion and desire for you that makes me so over-excited."

She glanced down at the gold buttons on his waistcoat. "Henry said I'm cold inside. He said I … I could never please a man."

Elliot took her chin between his thumb and finger, lifting her head until their gazes locked. "Grace, I have never met a more passionate woman. And it pleases me just being in your company."

His words went some way to heal her sad soul. She was tired of living in Henry's shadow. If she spent her whole life searching, she doubted she would ever find a gentleman as understanding as Elliot Markham. If she had any chance of putting the past behind her, she had to start now.

Grace placed her hand on his cheek and pressed her body closer to his. "Let me try again. Please, Elliot. I trust you. Just once. If it doesn't work, we'll be friends as you suggested."

He didn't answer. Not in words. Lowering his head towards her, he touched his lips to hers with a level of tenderness that stole her breath.

Desire unfurled like the petals of rose buds in spring: slowly, curiously, with an element of wonder.

I have never met a more passionate woman.

A renewed sense of confidence burst forth. Was it his wonderful words spurring this change in her? Was it the fact she had bared her soul to him and survived?