Chapter Ten
January 3, 6:00 a.m.
“Wake up, sweetheart.” Ethan kissed Thea’s temple, then buried his face in her hair, a low groan escaping him at her delicious scent. Sugar and vanilla, a hint of apple, and something else, something new that made his cock jerk with need.
Him.
He wanted her again. He’d lain awake for what was left of the night after Thea fell asleep, struggling against the need to bury his face between her legs until she woke so he could take her, but she’d looked so beautiful and peaceful with her dark lashes resting against her cheeks he hadn’t been able to bring himself to disturb her.
And after all, they had a lifetime of mornings ahead of them.
“Your bath will get cold, love.” He nuzzled her neck until she stirred with a protesting groan.
“Bath? Oh, that sounds heavenly.” She pressed a sleepy kiss to his bare chest, but in the next moment her body stiffened and she shot up straight in the bed. “You ordered me a bath? But the servants will have seen me in your bed! Becky and Peter can’t know—”
“Shhh.” He tilted her face up to his and brushed the tangled locks of dark hair back from her forehead. “They didn’t see you. I had them light the fire in the sitting room and bring the bath there.” He waved a hand at the connecting door between the rooms, which was closed. “Becky has orders not to disturb you this morning.” He grinned down at her. “I told her you were up late last night, baking.”
A shy smile drifted over her lips. “Baking? What a shameless falsehood.”
“Well, there was a great deal of heat involved, and I remembering tasting something sweet.” He eased her back down on the bed, onto her back, and pressed his open mouth to the soft skin between her breasts. “Ah, yes, here it is. Delicious.”
He licked and sucked at her until they were both breathless, but then he pulled away with a groan, threw back the covers, and dragged himself from the bed.
“Ethan!” She squealed with surprise when he swept her up into his arms. “What are you doing?”
“Showing incredible restraint.” If they didn’t get up now, he’d keep her in his bed all day, and there’d be no explaining that to the servants.
She gave him a teasing frown. “Now you decide to show restraint?”
He wanted to kiss that pout right off her lips. “Rather late, isn’t it?” He carried her across the room and through the connecting door. “But you did say you wanted a hot bath.”
He set her down on her feet, but she clung to his neck, pressed her body close against his, and nipped his earlobe before whispering in his ear, “I want more than just a bath.”
A pained groan left Ethan’s lips. He’d loved her hard last night, and he’d meant to leave her alone to recover this morning, but she was flushed, and all creamy skin and pink lips and nipples, and his resistance crumbled.
He stepped into the tub, stretched out, and then held out a hand for her. “Come down on top of me.”
His voice was rougher than he’d intended, but Thea didn’t hesitate. She stepped into the tub so she was standing over him, her feet between his knees.
Dear God, he was going to explode before she even touched him. He ran slick hands up the backs of her legs and lifted each dainty foot into place above his hips. “Sink down,” he whispered, and wrapped his hands around her waist to steady her.
She lowered herself so she was straddling him, and Ethan sucked in a sharp breath when her hot center brushed against his cock.
Despite her innocence, Thea seemed to know instinctively how to give them both pleasure. Her green eyes burned as she settled her hands on his shoulders and began to move her hips back and forth in a slow, sensuous rhythm.
Ethan hissed. “Jesus. You feel so good.” He buried one rough hand in her hair, gripped her lower back with the other, then leaned forward and caught a nipple between his teeth, biting down gently.
Thea caught her breath and jerked in his arms. “Ah, Ethan.”
Christ, it made him wild to hear his name so breathless on her lips. He bit her nipple to hear her gasp again, then reached down, grasped his cock in his hand and dragged his tip across the tender bud hidden between her folds. “Tell me you want this.”
Thea’s head fell back with a soft cry. “I—I want it. I want you.”
He growled, his hand tightening in her hair. He pushed the head slowly inside her, then stopped, clenching his teeth for control. “Tell me you want all of me.”
Thea gasped and squirmed over him, trying to take him deeper. “I—I want all of you.”
Ethan groaned, then eased in another inch. “You’re mine, Thea.” He moved his hand between her legs and circled his thumb slowly around her, but lightly, only enough to tease her. “Tell me you’re mine.”
Thea let out a sob and her thighs tightened around his hips. “I’m yours. Please, Ethan.”
Her fingernails bit into his neck, and the little sting of pain shattered Ethan’s control. He gripped her hips and pulled her down onto him as he thrust upward, pushing all the way inside her with one fierce stroke.
Thea froze, and then in the next breath, before he could move again, she was coming. The delicious pressure of her body squeezed his aching cock, and he thrust wildly into her, his breath ragged as he was hurled headlong into ecstasy.
* * * *
“I don’t want to go with you!” Martha stuck out her bottom lip and gave Ethan such a fierce glower he was glad she didn’t have a pitcher of milk in her hand.
A pitcher of milk, or a pistol.
He’d taken the children out for a long walk on the grounds, but he’d decided against any shooting for today. Half of him was still up in bed with Thea—the mental half of him, alas—and three young children and a distracted earl playing about with a loaded pistol seemed a rather bad idea.
Henry and George had decided days ago they’d been all wrong about his lordship, who was a right decent swell, after all, and now they swung along beside him, engaged in a cheerful squabble over whether French or English pistols were more “gentleman-like.”
Martha, however, was a different matter. Her wary gaze was fixed on him, watching his every move as if he were no more trustworthy than a rabid dog.
“I don’t want to go with you!” she repeated, louder this time.
Ah, well. The ladies were always the hardest to win over.
Ethan chose not to point out to Martha that her brothers had gone out with him for the past three days and hadn’t come to any harm. He didn’t know much about six-year-old children, but he suspected they weren’t impressed by logical argument.
“I want Miss Sheridan!” Martha glared at him, and stamped her foot.
Ethan sighed. “I told you, Martha. Miss Sheridan is fatigued and needs to rest. You don’t wish her to become ill, do you?”
“She weren’t ill yesterday.” Martha eyed him suspiciously. “I don’t believe you. What have ye really done with ’er?”
Quite a lot, as it happened, and if he had his way he’d still be doing it right now, and more too, but he doubted Martha would find any of that information reassuring. He raised an eyebrow at the child. “You sound as if you’re accusing me of something, Martha. What do you suppose I’ve done with her? Locked her in a cupboard for the afternoon?”
Martha’s mouth fell open, and tears filled her eyes.
Damnation. The child thought he had locked Thea in a cupboard. “Martha, I was only jesting—”
“Stop yer carrying on, Martha,” George ordered. “Yer acting like a baby.”
“A peahen, more like.” Henry pointed his finger at Martha and shook it threateningly. “Maybe ’is lordship should lock you in a cupboard.”
“No one is getting locked in a cupboard, Henry,” Ethan began, but Martha cut him off with an outraged shriek.
“Ye’re the peahen, Henry! An’ you too, George! That lordship,” she pointed an accusing finger at Ethan. “He said ’e was going to shut down the house, and he knew Miss Sheridan wouldn’t let him do it, so ’e tossed her in a cupboard and locked her in an’ he’s going to leave her there and close up the house around her, and she’ll have no one to let her out and she’ll be scared and alone in the dark and then she’ll starve an’ years later they’ll find ’er, but ’er skin will have all fallen off by then and she’ll be nothing but bones an’ fingernails and long, gray hair, and it’ll be all ye’re fault, ye bad, bad boys!”
Henry, George, and Ethan stood silently, their mouths open, blinking at her.
Martha stared back at them with wide eyes, then she sucked in a hiccupping breath, and burst into tears.
“That were a good story,” Henry said, heedless of his sister’s distress. “’Specially the part about the fingernails and the skin falling off.”
“And the bones, too. I like stories ’bout bones. But ye know, Henry, Martha’s right. His lordship did say ’e was going to shut down the house.” He gave Ethan a considering look. “Dinnit ye?”
All three children turned questioning black eyes on him.
“I did say that, when I first arrived, but that was before . . . that is, since then I’ve changed my mind. I don’t intend to close down the house, after all.”
The children were quiet for a moment as they considered that, then George spoke up. “’An ye’re going to live ’ere, with Miss Sheridan? Or are ye going back to London?”
Ethan’s brows drew into a frown as he fumbled for a reply. “I’m going to stay here at Cleves Court, with Miss Sheridan.”
“But . . .” Henry frowned. “Ye can’t stay ’ere with Miss Sheridan alone in the house. That’s not proper-like, is it, George?”
“Well, it’s a big house, innit?” George gave Ethan an uncertain look. “But I don’t think it’s proper, not unless ’is lordship marries Miss Sheridan. Ye’re going to marry ’er, aren’t ye?”
For God’s sake. It was a bloody inquisition. Next he’d be asking George and Henry for their permission to marry Thea. He opened his mouth to reassure them, but before he could say a word, Henry interrupted him.
“’Course ’e is. He loves ’er, don’t he?”
“Sure, ’e does.” George spoke with utter confidence. “He’s loved her since ’e knocked ’er from the tree. Maybe before then.”
Ethan stared at them. Devil take it. How did children always know everything?
“Don’t know why ye’d want to get married, yer lordship.” Henry gave him a curious look, then shrugged. “Peter says women are nothing but fuss an’ bother, but then Miss Sheridan’s a good sort, innit she? If ye have to marry, ye may as well marry Miss Sheridan.”
“I may as well, yes.” A reluctant smile twitched at Ethan’s lips as he looked at them. They were dreadful children, of course—three little fiends, especially Martha—but he couldn’t deny they loved Thea just as much as he did.
“Hurrah!” Henry, overcome with sudden glee, leapt upon his brother’s back for a celebratory wrestle. “His lordship’s staying, ’an we get to shoot the pistol again!”
“That’s bloody good news, that is!” George threw Henry to the ground with a mighty heave, and jumped on top of him. “I told ye Miss Sheridan would bring ’is lordship ’round.”
Ethan was trying to reassure Martha, who’d begun wailing in earnest over his impending betrothal to her beloved Miss Sheridan, but he stilled at George’s words. “Bring me around? What do you mean, George?”
George was bouncing up and down on Henry’s back, but he looked up at Ethan with a grin. “She said she’d make ye see reason, no matter what, and I guess she did, ’cause now we get to have you an’ Miss Sheridan, and that’s capital, that is.”
“Capital!” Henry shook off George, who’d been smashing his face into the ground, and added, “Miss Sheridan said she’d never let ye close the house—she said she’d do whatever it took to keep ye from doing it, and she’s right stubborn, innit she, once she sets her mind to a thing.”
Whatever it took.
And if it took pretending a love she didn’t feel?
No. Not that. Thea would never do such a hurtful thing. She’d never use him that way . . .
But the doubts that lurked in the dark corners of his mind had been awakened, and now they began to circle, ready to sink their claws into him.
She loved this house.
Cleves Court was a part of her—it always had been, and one couldn’t tear loose a piece of themselves, could they? Especially not for a man like him, a man who’d left her behind because he was so tormented by shame and guilt over his brother’s death he couldn’t look her in the eyes anymore.
God, he was such a fool—such a damn fool to think his fight with his past could ever have a happy ending.
The boys continued to tumble about on the frozen ground, but Ethan didn’t see them. He watched blindly as Martha ran off in the direction of the house, but he didn’t call her back, or follow her. He stood there with the icy wind blowing down the neck of his greatcoat, and tried to remember another time in his life when he’d felt quite so cold.
How far would Thea go to keep Cleves Court open?
He already knew the answer.
As far as she had to.
* * * *
“Ethan? The children were asking for you at dinner, but you never came.”
He hadn’t responded to the light knock, but Thea entered anyway, and now she stood in the doorway of his study, her anxious gaze moving between his face and the glass of whiskey in his hand.
He hadn’t gone to dinner because he wasn’t hungry. Despite the whiskey, he wasn’t thirsty, either, and he wasn’t angry, or sad, or even hurt.
He wasn’t anything.
When he didn’t answer, Thea stepped into the room and closed the door behind her with a quiet click. “What’s happened?”
He drained his whiskey and poured another measure into his glass from the decanter sitting on his desk. “What would you say, Thea, if I told you I intend to close Cleves Court, after all? What if I told you I wanted us to leave for London together tomorrow, and never see this house again?”
She didn’t hesitate. “I’d do whatever I had to do to change your mind.”
“Whatever you had to do,” he repeated. He’d known it, but hearing her say it aloud was like a blade slicing into his heart. “Take me into your bed, you mean? Would you try and convince me you loved me, so I’d keep Cleves Court open?”
Thea’s face went pale. “I—how can you ask me that?”
“That’s not an answer, sweetheart.” He lingered on the last word, twisting it into something ugly. “It’s a simple question. Tell me, Thea. How far would you go to save this house?”
For a long time she didn’t answer. She looked down at her hands, clenched into fists in front of her, but at last she whispered. “It’s not about the house anymore, Ethan. It never was, really. You’re asking the wrong question.”
“Oh? Enlighten me then, won’t you? What’s the right question?”
She drew in a deep breath, and when she raised her eyes to meet his, her gaze never wavered. “You should ask me how far I’d go to save you.”
“Me?” His laugh was bitter. “The best thing for me would be to leave this house forever, and never look back. I’d only ever keep it open for you, and you knew that all along, didn’t you?”
“No. You can’t lock your memories away, Ethan.” She came around the desk, knelt at his feet, and took his hands in hers. “Don’t you see? You can close Cleves Court, and leave Cornwall forever, but you’ll take all this hurt with you. You can’t outrun your ghosts.”
He jerked his hands away. “I’ve done a bloody good job of it so far. London’s a long way from Cornwall, love.”
“It’s not far enough. No place is. You think you can run from your past, or lock it away by locking the doors of Cleves Court, but there’s only one way to make your peace with such intense grief, and that’s to go through it. Your father knew it. By the time he faced the truth, it was too late for him, but—”
“My father? Don’t talk to me about my father. He was a bloody coward.”
She didn’t argue with him. It was the truth, and Thea knew it as well as he did. As long as all was well and the sun was shining, John Fortescue was a loving father and a devoted husband. He’d been so proud of his sons, especially Andrew, his treasured heir, but as soon as Andrew’s fits started, his father had fled to London, leaving his family alone and broken behind him.
“But you’re not a coward, Ethan, and it’s not too late for you.”
Ethan looked down into her face, into that beautiful face that would forever haunt his dreams, and God, he wanted so badly to listen to her, to believe everything she’d done was for him, but how could he? She loved this house. It was part of her, and he . . .
He was nothing but the man who’d walked away from her all those years ago, who’d left her here alone to struggle with unspeakable grief.
“I’m just like him, Thea. I’m a coward, too.”
“No, you’re not, and for all his faults, your father knew it.” Her green eyes pleaded with him. “You’re the reason he never closed Cleves Court, Ethan.”
For a moment he simply stared at her, not sure what she meant, but then his throat tightened as suspicion began to claw to the surface. He gripped Thea hard by the shoulders. “He never closed the house because of me? How . . . how do you know that?”
“I should have told you before now.” She drew in a shaky breath and let her forehead fall against his knee. “After Andrew . . . after we buried him, your father didn’t go back to London. You left, but he stayed at Cleves Court.”
“How long?” He tore the words from his throat. “How long did he stay here?”
“A few months. He hoped if he stayed here he’d find a way to accept it, to forgive himself, but in the end he knew it was too late for him, and he returned to London.” She lifted her head to look into his face. “But he never gave up on you, Ethan. He hoped someday you’d realize you couldn’t run, and you’d come back home. He asked me to stay here, and he made me promise . . .”
Ethan didn’t want to hear anymore, but he had to know all of it—every last secret. “What? He made you promise what?”
“To help you.” She looked up at him, her dark lashes wet with tears. “He knew you’d come here to close the house after he died, and he made me promise, when that day came, that I’d do whatever I could to help you find peace.”
For a moment Ethan couldn’t speak, but then he jerked away from her and shot to his feet. “So these few weeks—they were all about fulfilling a promise to my father? Did you promise him you’d let me between your legs, too? Was that part of your agreement?”
Thea staggered to her feet, but she was shaking. “Don’t do this, Ethan.”
God, he didn’t want to do this, didn’t want to hurt her or himself this way, but Cleves Court, and Thea, and now his father—they were all tangled in his head, and he didn’t know how to tear them free from each other. He’d been a fool to believe he ever could.
He couldn’t stay here.
“I’m leaving for London tomorrow.” His voice was hoarse, his throat scraped raw. “Alone. I’ll write out instructions for closing the house and leave them with you. I expect you to carry them out. Dismiss all the servants when it’s done.”
“Ethan, please listen to me—”
“No.” He shook his head, but he didn’t look at her—couldn’t look at her, because the stark despair on her face was breaking his heart. “This is over. I’m leaving Cleves Court, and this time, I’m never coming back. Do you know why I’m so sure of that, Thea?”
She didn’t answer, and he turned to face her.
“There won’t be anything left to come back to.”