Marrying His Cinderella Countess

Perhaps he will keep his eyes closed, she thought hopefully. Perhaps he will not expect too much this first time.

But she did, she realised. If she could only control her fears…

It would be her own fault if the whole thing passed in a blur of pain.

Chapter Fourteen

Polly opened the door and slipped out as Blake came in. He had changed too, Ellie saw, thinking that he looked every inch her exotic desert lord as he stood there in a long crimson robe, the open collar of his shirt just showing at the neck. Then he strode across the room, lifted her in his arms and took her across to the door in the far corner.

‘We share a sitting room,’ Blake said, shouldering the panels closed behind them. ‘But I have the study, so you must treat this room as yours and tell me what changes you want made.’

Ellie looked round at the cream-painted room and the rose-pink drapery and thought it all looked perfect. It even distracted her for a vital second from the delicious awareness of being in Blake’s arms, from the moment when he shifted his grip to set her on her feet.

The velvet nap of her robe slid against the silk of his and she landed on her feet faster than he’d intended, judging by the sharp exclamation he made.

Ellie jolted, stumbled, seized the back of a chair for support and bit back a cry of pain. But not quickly enough to prevent Blake from hearing her.

‘Eleanor? You are hurt? Damn me for a clumsy idiot. What is it? Your ankle?’

She turned, took a limping step towards the nearest chair and sat down. ‘No, it was not your fault in the slightest—merely my leg. I am a little tired.’

‘Tired?’ He was on his knees in front of her now, examining her face. ‘No, not tired. In pain. What have you done to yourself, Eleanor? Tell me. There was something… I should have questioned it when I saw that you were hardly limping as you came down the aisle. Whatever it was has made your leg worse now, because it did not pain you as much before. Tell me—or do I have to shake it out of you?’

‘You are shaking me,’ she said between chattering teeth.

He stopped, his hands cupping the points of her shoulders. ‘I am sorry, Eleanor.’ It sounded as though his own teeth were clenched, and he was not giving up on his questioning. ‘How did you stop yourself limping?’

‘I had a shoe built up to compensate for the shortening in my broken leg. But I did not realise how much strain it would put on all the joints and muscles that have become accustomed to being shorter. So now it is rather sore—that is all.’

‘All? You were in pain. I should have realised. You have been in pain all day. Why not take the damned shoes off?’ He threw his hands wide, as though to prevent himself from shaking her again.

‘Because I did not want to give them something else to criticise,’ she snapped. ‘I thought at least I could walk down the aisle without limping, so they wouldn’t say you had married a lame woman on top of everything else. They would find out soon enough, but at least not on your wedding day.’

‘Them? They?’

‘Your friends. Your acquaintances. Your world.’

‘Our world now,’ Blake said. ‘Our acquaintances. And soon many of them will be your friends too. Eleanor, you have a limp. That does not matter. And if it concerns someone then they may go to hell with my compliments. What does matter is that you might have done any amount of damage to that leg. I will take you straight back to bed and call the doctor.’

He made to pick her up but Ellie batted his hands away. ‘You cannot call the doctor out at this hour. Besides, what can he do? I have had a soak in a hot bath and some willow bark tea.’

‘Of course I can call the doctor.’ Blake looked as though he was one breath from completely losing his temper. ‘I am Hainford.’

‘That is the most arrogant thing I have ever heard!’

‘It is fact. I am his highest-ranking patient, so of course he will come—even if it is only because my countess has been wantonly careless with her own wellbeing.’

‘Wantonly careless? All I wanted was not to embarrass you, Blake. And I do not want to go back to my bed. I want to go to yours.’

I think.

‘If you believe I am going to have sex with a woman who is in pain, who might have done goodness knows what damage, who—’

‘I was rather hoping that you were going to make love to me, Blake—not have sex.’

Ellie did not even attempt to hide her hurt and the anger. It had been a long, exhausting, emotionally draining day and this was not how she had expected it to end.

‘You must forgive me for being insecure and for trying the impossible—to be a perfect countess for you.’