There had to be something wrong with her, because intellectually she knew what the best course of action was and yet she poked at him instead. It was like poking a tiger with a stick. All fun and games, until the tiger realized that the door to its cage was open.
“I’m sure that you do,” Edwin said, his voice taking on a darker, more dangerous edge, no longer quite so placid or calm. The war going on inside of Eleanor made her feel particularly testy as she battled her desire for him, fighting against her feelings for him by fighting against him. “You certainly led me a merry dance around your parents until your father took you in hand.”
Eleanor sniffed. “I was just being sociable. A good hostess. I don’t understand what that has to do with you. Whatever you imagined I was doing, you shouldn’t take it so personally.” Stop it, she wanted to yell at herself. At the same time she was too fascinated by toying with him. Angling for a reaction that was something other than controlled and dignified.
Wondering if perhaps pushing him to a place beyond his control would reveal something of his true feelings for her.
Her husband took a step towards her and Eleanor eyed him warily, her clenched fists hidden in her skirts. She didn’t want him to see what an effort maintaining this indifferent and careless pose was for her.
“I took it personally, madam, because you spent the entire morning avoiding me while I wanted to spend it with my wife on my arm.” The taut anger in his voice was more than a warning sign and yet she found herself recklessly enjoying it. Nearly as much as she enjoyed hearing him admit that he wanted to spend time with her, although she would have preferred if he’d said ‘you.’ Would he have wanted any wife of his on his arm, or was it only because she was his wife?
Shrugging one shoulder elegantly, she tipped up her nose at him. “Perhaps your wife was not so interested in spending the morning with y
ou.”
Now Edwin began walking around the desk and Eleanor swiftly began walking in the other direction, keeping the distance between them. He stopped immediately, scowling. He even looked attractive doing that. Attractive and foreboding. Her heart was starting to beat faster, a prelude to passion… or a warning of imminent danger.
“And why might that be?” he asked. Eleanor noted the fists clenched at his sides, the way the tendons stood out in his neck above his cravat. It sounded like his teeth were actually grinding together and yet he did not continue to chase her, he just stood there and asked questions as if he expected her to behave illogically, expected her to be a brat.
So she threw all caution to the wind and put her hands on her hips, rolling her eyes as if in exasperation. His own lack of reaction, his self-control, was feeding her impulsiveness, making her reckless.
“Why must we always be arm in arm? Other couples amongst the ton aren’t like that. Grace didn’t even come to the wedding today because Lord Brooke was there. Why must you always follow me around?”
“It seemed to me that originally you wanted a husband who would follow you around,” he accused in a silky voice, his eyes hard as he began to circle around the desk again. Staring back at him, heart fluttering in her throat, Eleanor was unsure whether she felt fear or arousal as she began to move, doing her best to keep the desk between them. “A husband who would beg for your attention. Is that what you’re doing Eleanor? Trying to make me into your puppy dog, to follow and beg for you? You think to teach me to do tricks?”
“N-n-n-o,” she stuttered. She certainly had never thought that she’d be able to make Edwin into the kind of husband that she’d originally wanted, that her other suitors would have made. Or had she? Was that what she had been trying to prove today? There had been something immensely satisfying about making Edwin follow her all around the room, something she would have never expected to be able to force her confident, elegant husband to do. Even if he had stopped the chase once her father had sat her down. She was suddenly confused, wondering if she’d truly thought through her tactics.
Now he was chasing her again, but in closed quarters with no one around. A much more volatile situation, one almost guaranteed not to go her way. And yet… she felt almost excited by it. Excited and frightened. This, like so many of her other plans, was not going her way. She could see that this little game of cat and mouse was rousing Edwin’s passions, he was looking at her the same way he did before he undressed her at night, but she already knew that he desired her. The goal had been to discover what softer feelings he might have for her.
Frustrated, Edwin stopped stalking her and planted his hands on the desk. “Come here Nell.”
“No.” She backed further away, feeling even more contrary now that this plan – like so many others – had been frustrated. They’d rotated around the room so that she was now closer to the door and Edwin was behind the desk with his back to the windows. Her backwards momentum was stymied when she ran into one of the bookshelves and she put out a hand to steady herself.
His voice lowered, almost coaxing, although no less dangerous for its gentleness. “Come here Eleanor.”
“NO.” Frustrated she practically threw the word at him. She didn’t want passion, or she did, but she that wasn’t her goal at the moment and she didn’t want to be distracted. Her emotions were chaotic, frustrated, and she was acting out of sheer instinct at this point.
“Eleanor I’m tired of this game.” Edwin’s dark eyes skewered her, accusing, almost hurt and it ripped at her, but she couldn’t make herself go to him. She couldn’t give in. That’s what her mother would do, wanting to soothe the man she loved, whatever the cost to herself. But Eleanor wasn’t her mother and if Edwin knew how much she cared, the way her father did, and still discarded her or sent her off to live in the country without him, like her father did with her mother, she could not bear it. Better he not know. Better she keep something back from him until she knew if she could trust him with her heart. “Come here.”
“Why can’t you just leave me alone?” she practically wailed, a sentiment straight from her heart. She didn’t meant that she wanted him to leave her alone really, just that she couldn’t take much more of this uncertainty about his feelings towards her. That right at this moment, she couldn’t bear to have him force her to reveal her feelings by coming to him when she had no idea whether they were returned. It felt as if she was standing on a precipice and he was urging her to jump, without promising that he would be there to catch her.
He jerked as if she’d slapped him, looking incredibly startled. Who knew what would have happened then, how he might have reacted, if Eleanor hadn’t been so far gone in her own torrent of emotions that she did something monumentally stupid.
Grasping the first thing that came to hand, an ornamental bookend on the shelf she’d been grasping, she threw it at him. Right at his stubborn, incomprehensible, unreadable head.
Her aim had always been good and it was only his quick reflexes that allowed him to duck out of the way. Watching in horror as the heavy wooden decoration flew across the room, Eleanor’s hands covered her mouth as she stared in shock. Edwin whirled back around to stare at her as the bookend clattered to the floor behind him. She didn’t think, she just whirled around and ran.
*******
Being on the opposite side of the room from his wife, with the desk in his way, had not been the best positioning, Edwin thought grimly as he stalked after his fleeing wife. She’d managed to get out the door and partway down the hall before he was able to come barreling out of the room after her. But he refused to run. Already there was a maid standing in the hall, staring open-mouthed after her mistress. He would not run after her… besides, his long strides, unhampered by skirts, made him move fast enough to keep her in his sights.
What on earth had possessed her?
His heart clenched as he wondered why she wanted him to leave her alone. What was wrong? Was it her monthlies? No… that had happened while they were still in Paris, it wasn’t time yet. Was it resentment over the fact that Hugh’s wedding had been much more what she’d wanted than their own small ceremony?
It bothered him more than he wished to admit that to think she was more interested in the trappings of a wedding celebration than in their union as husband and wife.
Whatever her reasons, he wished she had just talked to him instead of making her chase him. Not once, not twice, but three times now today. This time with their staff staring after them. His muscles burned as he stretched his legs as much as possible, doing his best to keep up with her without actually running. Damned if he was going to give up the last bit of dignity left to him.