11
Theo lay tangled in the sheets with Elle, arms and legs entwined, naked and spent. He tightened his arm around her, placing tender kisses along her jawline. “How many guests do you have tonight?”
“Only two.”
“Surely Megan and Ruby could handle breakfast for two in the morning?”
“Probably.” A soft smile curved her lips. “Why?”
“Because I don’t want you to have to rush off in the morning.” He traced his tongue over the pulse point in her neck, rewarded by a whimper. “I want to wake with you in my bed and be able to take my time with you. I could have Beatrice send a tray down from the castle so we can have our own breakfast for two.”
Elle was already nodding. “I love that idea.”
“Good, although it means I have to let go of you long enough to coordinate this,” he said, drawing her closer against him instead.
“I’ll text Megan. You take care of breakfast.” She slid out of his arms and reached for her phone.
Reluctantly, he sat up and reached for his own phone. He left a message for Colin on the house line, then tossed the phone aside and drew Elle against him. He never seemed to tire of touching her.
“I’m going to owe them a few favors after this,” she said, snuggling against his chest. “First, they covered for me tonight while we went on our date and now tomorrow morning too.”
“I’ll make it very worth your time,” he said, pressing his cock against her thigh so she could feel how much he needed her.
They touched and kissed for as long as either of them could stand it, and when he sank inside her, he felt like he was giving her a piece of himself. It was too much, and not enough, and just fucking perfect all at once.
They dozed in his bed, waking periodically throughout the night to kiss and touch. He wanted to know everything that turned her on, what she liked, what she didn’t, how to make her scream with pleasure.
And he made her scream, all right.
Somewhere around three a.m., they got up for a snack to replenish the many calories they’d burned. Elle put on one of his T-shirts, and it pleased him in a primal way to see her wearing it. They stood in his kitchen and munched on cheese and crackers, talking about anything and everything.
“You don’t have any pictures,” she commented as they walked down the hall toward his bedroom.
“Pictures?”
“Like, family photos.”
“That’s because this isn’t my house. I have family photos in my flat in London.”
“I guess I just thought that, since your family has lived here for generations, there might be photos here too.”
“There’s an album around here somewhere,” he told her. “In the den, I think.”
To his surprise, she bypassed the bedroom and headed toward the den. “I want to see pictures of little Theo.”
“Okay.” Not his idea of foreplay, but whatever floated her boat.
They walked into the den together, and he turned on a lamp by the door. Just bright enough to see by without making them blink like owls in the blinding overhead lights—it was the middle of the night, after all. Elle walked straight to the table in front of the sofa and pulled open its drawers, coming almost immediately to the family album he remembered flipping through once or twice as a child. He couldn’t have told her where it was, but she seemed to have some kind of female-radar that had guided her straight to it.
She crooked her finger, gesturing for him to sit beside her on the sofa, as she flipped the album open. “Who made this?” she asked as she traced her fingers over the edges of the photos—protected from her touch by plastic pouches. Most of them were neatly labeled in a woman’s hand.
“My grandmother, if I had to guess.”
There were photos of his relatives in England, his grandparents on their wedding day and later standing on the front steps of Rosemont Castle. There was a baby, Theo’s father Thomas. After that, the years jumped, and the handwriting changed. A vise clamped around Theo’s gut as he saw the photos of his parents on their wedding day, posing together in the gardens outside the castle. Another baby.
“Baby Theo,” Elle whispered, tracing her fingers over his baby face. “You were adorable.”
He straightened, looking away.
“Oh, look how cute you were,” she said as she turned the page, marveling over photos of him as a boy. “Here you are, riding a horse.”
He glanced at the page, but his eyes were drawn not to the photo of him on Bismarck, but the photo of him playing ball with his dad, and next to it, one of him in his mother’s lap as she read to him. Her face was downturned in the photo, but he wondered, if she’d looked into the camera, what would he have seen?
Elle squeezed his hand. “Is it hard for you, looking at these photos? I love looking through old albums of my mom and me, but we all grieve differently.”
“It’s not my favorite thing,” he told her, seeing no reason to hide the truth.
“I’m sorry.” She closed the album and set it on the table. “That was thoughtless of me.”
“Don’t be sorry.” He tightened his arms around her. “Mental illness. That’s the issue I want to support with my charity.”
“Oh,” she said softly. She was silent for a few moments, still in his arms. “That’s a very important cause, and you could bring such awareness with your title, maybe even remove some of the stigma associated with it.”
“I told you that my mother passed away in her sleep, but that’s not the full story. It’s the story we spun for the press.”
“Oh,” she said again, and he wondered if she’d already guessed the truth.
“She was depressed. I don’t know for how long. I just knew she cried a lot.”
“Oh, Theo.” She wrapped her arms around his neck. A tear splashed over her cheek, and yeah, she must have figured it out.
“That night, she swallowed a whole bottle of sleeping pills.” His chest burned, and he sucked in a ragged breath. “I found her, the next morning.”
“Oh no,” Elle whispered. “Oh, Theo.”
“She did die in her sleep. She just didn’t die of natural causes.”
“I can’t even imagine what that was like for you.” She kissed his cheeks before pressing her forehead against his. “I’m so sorry.”
“It was a lifetime ago.” But sometimes—like right now—it felt as vivid as if it had just happened. How cold she’d been when he touched her. Her ice-cold skin would haunt him forever.
Elle lifted her face to stare into his eyes. “You were seven?”
He nodded. “Now that my father and grandfather are gone, I’m the only one who knows the truth, other than Colin, but he would never betray the family’s trust.”
“That’s a terrible burden for you to bear, Theo.”
“I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately,” he admitted. “How easy it would be to let the truth die, once and for all.”
“But you want to change that.” Her eyes sought his.
He really wasn’t sure why he was telling her any of this, but now that he’d started talking, he couldn’t seem to stop. “The idea is there, yes, but I don’t want to bring embarrassment or shame on the family. Certain things aren’t talked about. This is one of them.”
“I think you’d be doing an incredible thing. Not only would you honor your mother by bringing her struggles to light, but you’d be helping countless other people who might be struggling in silence even now.”
His gaze dropped to the album on the coffee table. “I’m certain the rest of the family won’t see it that way.”
“But ultimately, the decision is yours?”
“Yes.”
She took his hands in hers and squeezed. “You’ve got to go with your gut, although I think your gut is already nudging you in the right direction.”
“My mother killed herself, Elle.” The words felt bitter on his tongue. He’d never spoken them out loud before. Somehow, their night had veered into unexpected—and deeply personal—territory, and now he felt exposed in a way he wasn’t accustomed to. It affected him more than he’d expected. He slid Elle out of his lap and stood, pacing to the far end of the room.
She came up behind him, resting a hand on his shoulder. “I can’t think of a better way to honor her memory than by supporting the treatment that might have saved her life.”
“Perhaps.”
“Thank you for sharing her with me,” she said, so softly it was almost a whisper.
He nodded, the movement stiff. “We should get back to bed.”
Elle woke with one arm thrown over Theo’s shoulder, her face nestled into the crook of his neck. Smiling softly, she inhaled his scent, so warm and masculine. This wasn’t like her—snuggling naked in bed with a man. She’d always liked her space. By nature, she wasn’t a cuddler. But, for some reason, she couldn’t seem to let go of the man beside her, not even to sleep.
Her eyes popped open. He lay with his back to her, and here she was, all but clinging to him from behind. Carefully, slowly, she slid her arm off him and scooted to her side of the bed. Did he regret telling her so much about his mother last night? He’d gotten so weird there at the end, distant…awkward. This thing between them had gotten really serious, really fast.
Too fast? Was it too much? God, this was so unlike her. She wasn’t one to second-guess herself in relationships, but this thing with Theo was just so…big. And maybe he needed some space. Maybe they both did.
She should get back to the castle. She’d leave him a note saying that Megan and Ruby had needed her help at breakfast after all. Carefully, she slid out of bed. Theo grumbled in his sleep, rolling onto his back. The sheets were twisted around his legs, and she paused for a moment to soak in the glory of his naked, sleeping form.
God, the man was beautiful.
His body was seriously a thing of wonder. Greedily, she let her gaze wander down his torso to his cock. Her body heated as she remembered the way she’d teased him through his pants last night in the car. The way she’d taken him in her mouth the moment they’d made it inside. She didn’t always enjoy giving blow jobs but yeah, that had been hot. Everything with Theo just felt…right.
Which was exactly the problem. Because nothing with Theo should feel right. It was all wrong. Last night, under the glow of romance and wine and Theo’s intoxicating gaze, she’d agreed to a casual relationship until he returned to England. But nothing between them was casual. It was intense and emotional and overwhelming, and…if she kept this up, she’d wind up falling for him, and where would that get her?
Homeless, jobless, and heartbroken, that’s where.
She tiptoed away from the bed, looking for her clothes. Her dress was tossed over the chair in the corner. She really needed to pee, but she’d have to wait until she made it to the castle because using his bathroom did not jive with her quick, stealthy exit. Halfway to the chair, she tripped over one of her shoes, slammed her right knee into the bed frame, and went down in an ungraceful heap on the floor.
“Elle?” Theo’s voice was low and raspy with sleep.
Shit. She sat up, rubbing at the pinky toe on her right foot. It hurt like a son of a bitch, and she was going to have a lovely bruise on that knee too. She climbed to her feet, grabbing frantically for her clothes.
“Where are you going?” He shrugged up onto his elbows, watching, brows furrowed, as she yanked her dress over her head and fastened the buckle on her heels.
“I was about to leave you a note.” She straightened, smoothing a hand over her skirt. Inside her shoes, her pinky toe hurt almost as much as her dignity. “Something came up. I have to get back to the castle.”
“But we were going to enjoy breakfast together.” He was looking at her like he could see right through her flimsy excuse.
“I know. I’m sorry, Theo, I just…I have to go.”
And she ran out of his room, clutching her purse—and her dignity—in her hands.
Theo’s day went to hell before he even made it out of bed. He’d woken expecting to spend a romantic morning with Elle. He’d thought…well, he’d thought a lot of things, and yet here he was, alone. By the time he showered and dressed, a breakfast tray was waiting on the kitchen table, but his appetite seemed to have departed along with Elle.
He bypassed his usual tea in favor of a cup of coffee as strong as he could brew it. His eyes were gritty after his mostly-sleepless night, his temper as short as the little dog Elle was walking as he made his way up to the castle a half hour later. He paused, hands shoved into his pockets, waiting for her to explain her rapid departure from his bed, because he didn’t buy for a moment that her friends couldn’t handle breakfast on their own.
“Good morning, Theo,” she said quietly, hands twisting uncomfortably.
He knew the feeling. “Was there some sort of problem this morning?”
“Not really.” She dropped her eyes, staring at the pug at her feet.
“Then what?”
“I don’t know.”
What didn’t she know? Because he thought they’d shared…something when he told her the truth about his mother’s death. He didn’t share things like that easily, or at all really. It had been really fucking difficult for him. And now he was second guessing everything. “I don’t understand.”
“I don’t either.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened.”
“That makes two of us.” He strode past her and up the front steps of the castle, not stopping until he’d closed himself in his office. He booted up his laptop and frowned his way through his emails, too irritable to pay much attention to any of them. A message from his uncle caught his attention, letting him know that the board would be expecting Theo to formally announce his charity work when he visited London next month.
Last night, he’d thought he might go ahead with his plans to announce a mental health endowment in his mother’s name. And now…well, now he didn’t know what to think.
There was a knock at the door to his office. He scowled at it, wanting to be left alone, although he knew full well who it was. Colin’s three quick taps were as dependable as the butler himself. “Come in.”
The door swung open, and Colin stood in the doorway. “Good morning, sir.”
“Good morning, Colin.” He rubbed at the tension headache brewing between his eyes.
“Was something the matter with your breakfast tray?”
“No. My plans changed, that’s all. I’m sorry to have wasted your time.”
“No mind,” Colin said. “Could I bring you something else instead?”
“No, thank you. I’ll grab something in the kitchen later.” Maybe a bowl of Lucky Charms. He had an odd craving for them this morning.
“Miss Davenport and her friends seem to be doing quite well with their new business, wouldn’t you say?”
“Yes.” Theo nodded stiffly. “Very well.”
“She reminds me a bit of your grandmother, that one,” Colin said, a twinkle in his eye. It shouldn’t have surprised Theo that the butler had picked up on their relationship. He was sharp as a tack.
“Does she?” He’d never known Rose other than through photos and stories from his grandfather, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to compare her to Elle, because he sure as hell didn’t want to compare his relationship with her to the true love his grandparents had shared.
“They have a similar, what’s the saying…joie de vivre. Master Alistair would have quite enjoyed getting to see her running this place, I do think.”
Theo smiled sadly. “I’m sorry he didn’t get that chance.”