Chapter Twenty-Six − Only Mine
Drawing in a deep breath, Derek stepped toward his wife.
Carefully lifting her gaze, she looked at him, her cheeks slightly flushed and her breathing faster than he would have expected. Was it the exertion? Or was it…?
Derek swallowed as he held out his hand to her. “May I have this dance?” His own voice sounded strange to him as though he were trapped in a dream. However, when his wife stepped forward and slid her hand into his, it was as though he woke up with a start.
All his senses narrowed in on her. The warmth of her skin. The scent of lavender that rose from her raven-black tresses. The emerald glow in her eyes as they held his. The way her breathing hitched when he pulled her closer.
How could anyone be so acutely aware of another? Derek wondered, feeling his insides tremble with excitement as he began to move in time to Kara’s soft humming.
As he held his wife in his arms, the rest of the world fell away. He barely remembered a day spent on repairs, dreading the moment he would have to return home and see in her eyes that…
What? What did he see in her eyes? Was she thinking of another? Wishing for another?
Derek smiled. No, she was not. The way she was looking at him spoke of the same excitement he felt in his own veins, and in that moment, he barely remembered their audience and almost swept her up in his arms.
“Doesn’t it look marvellous?” his sister gasped, her voice dream-like as she gazed at them.
Sean seemed to disagree while Derek’s mother looked rather pleased with herself. Why? Derek wondered. Had she had an ulterior motive in asking him to dance with his wife? Indeed, she had not asked, had she?
“Now us,” Kara exclaimed, dragging her reluctant husband back into the middle of the room while Derek and Madeline took their places next to his mother.
As they stood side by side, watching Kara and Sean stumble and almost fall, Derek’s mind was focused on his wife. Whenever he moved from one foot onto the other, his hand would brush against hers, sending tingles up and down his arm. Her breath quickened then, and she would look at him out of the corner of her eye before a shiver would shake her frame.
Fighting the impulse to pull her into his arms, Derek stood stock still like a stone column, convinced he had never experienced a worse kind of torture.
“That was…encouraging,” his mother spoke, jarring him out of his thoughts, as she stepped toward Sean and Kara. “Now off to bed. Tomorrow will be another day.”
As the others headed upstairs, whispering quiet goodnights, Derek and Madeline remained where they were until they heard the last door close. Then Madeline turned to him, her eyes round as she smiled up at him. “Will you show me how to make a fire?”
Derek swallowed, torn between his desire to accommodate her wishes and following his own. “Certainly,” he replied, his voice hoarse, and offered her his arm.
Step by step, they made their way upstairs, each not saying a word, each keeping their eyes fixed on something ahead of them. When he opened the door to her bedchamber, her arm slipped from his, and Derek felt a wave of regret wash over him. How had he gone the whole day without her touch when he now seemed to crave it like air itself?
Stepping toward the mantle, Madeline retrieved the small tinderbox, her brows drawing down into a frown. “How do I use these?” Opening the lid, she glanced up at him before returning her gaze to the small items within. “I believe these two things need to be struck together to create a spark, but…” Sighing, she shook her head, holding the box up to him.
Taking the tinderbox from her hand, Derek drew in a slow breath as his fingers brushed over hers. “These are called the steel or strike-a-light and the flint,” he explained, showing her how to hold them. “However, you cannot let the spark fall on the logs directly. They will never catch fire this way. You need to use the tinder, a piece of scorched linen, as well as a brimstone match.”
“Tinder? What’s that?” Stepping closer, her head only a hair’s breadth from his, she perused the small box in his hand.
Derek swallowed, wondering if she, too, could feel the strange weight in the air tonight. “You place it in the tinderbox and let the spark fall on it. When it catches fire, you gently blow on it and then hold one of the matches in to ignite. This way you can transfer the flame to a candle or taper and then light the fire in the hearth. Then you quickly extinguish the tinder so that you’ll be able to use it again before it needs to be replaced.”
Looking up, Madeline sighed. “That sounds fairly complicated.”
“I admit it’s not easy,” Derek replied, seeing the doubt in her eyes. “Like many other things, it takes practice, but it can be learnt.” For a long moment, he held her gaze, a question resting in them that did not need words.
After a while, his wife nodded, a soft smile curling up the corners of her lips, sending a jolt of excitement through Derek’s body. “Show me,” she whispered, and for a split second, Derek had no idea what she was referring to.
Then he remembered the tinderbox in his hand and cleared his throat.
As they stood by the small table in the corner, a candle at the ready, Derek instructed his wife how to conjure a spark. Although it only took her two strikes to draw some sparks, she had some trouble directing them onto the tinder. Annoyance began to colour her cheeks, and Derek could tell from the way her jaw clenched that she was getting disheartened.
The moment he was about to whisper an encouragement, a spark landed on the scorched linen, igniting it in the blink of an eye. “I did it!” his wife exclaimed, dropping the steel and flint in her excitement.
Derek smiled, lifting a calming hand. “Careful or the flame will extinguish. Now gently blow on it.”
Leaning toward the tiny flame, his wife did as he instructed, her eyes growing wide with pride when the flame began to dance taller. “Now, the match, right?”
Derek nodded, touched by her child-like excitement.
Holding the match into the flame, Madeline smiled as it caught fire. Then she transferred it to the candle on the table before blowing out the flame. “Don’t we need to close the box?” she asked, looking at him with a cocked eyebrow.
Snapping out of his trance, Derek blinked, then glanced down at the tinderbox in his hands where the strip of scorched linen continued to burn. Embarrassed, he snapped the lid closed before turning to his wife.
With a puzzled expression on her face, she looked up at him. “So, I could have lit the fire with the candle I brought in that night, couldn’t I?” she asked, a touch of red coming to her cheeks. “That’s why you didn’t come to help me. It would have been so simple,” she said, taking the candle and kneeling down by the fireplace. Then she held the small flame to the kindling and waited until it caught on. “I can’t believe I didn’t think of that.” Shaking her head, she rose to her feet and set the candle down on the mantle. Then she turned to look at him. “You must think me a fool.”
Staring at her, Derek knew that that was exactly what she thought. “You’re not a fool,” he said, his voice steady as he stepped toward her. “People make mistakes. They overlook things, forget things. But that doesn’t make them fools.”
Closing her eyes, Madeline shook her head, and Derek could see that his words had not convinced her. The doubts that lived in her heart were still there, whispering in her ear that she was not good enough. That she would never be good enough.
Stepping forward, Derek gently grasped her chin and waited for her to look at him. When she did, he said, “I do admire you.”
At his words, she all but flinched, her eyes widening in disbelief.
As the flames began to dance from log to log, filling the room with a comfortable warmth, Derek held her gaze, willing her to see the truthfulness of his words. “We are all born into a world that becomes familiar to us. A world that we learn to live in. We learn its rules and conditions, and we acquire the skills we need to function in it.” Gently, he brushed the pad of his thumb over her chin, acutely aware of the closeness of their bodies. “You’ve been torn from yours and thrust into one quite unlike the one you grew up in. While children have a unique ability to adapt, people our age face far greater difficulties.” Leaning closer, he looked deep into her eyes, feeling her breath come out in small gasps. “You could’ve surrendered. You could’ve given up, but you haven’t. You’re still fighting to adapt, to find your place in this new world, and that demands respect.”
A lone tear glistened in the corner of her eye, and she tried to pull her chin from his grasp and avert her head.
Derek, however, would not allow her. “Naturally, you will make mistakes,” he whispered. “We all do. But that does not mean you’re a fool. Far from it. In truth, it is through our mistakes that we truly learn. If you see them as an opportunity to grow, they cannot harm you.”
Taking a deep breath, Madeline held his gaze, her chin still in his grasp, quivering with the emotions that coursed through her. Then she moved her head, freeing herself from his hold.
Derek swallowed, regretting the loss of her touch, hoping she would not withdraw.
“Leaving my world,” she whispered, her glowing green eyes holding his, “terrified me. So much.” She swallowed. “That’s why I was so angry with you for…what happened.”
Derek cleared his throat. “For me following you. For forcing your hand.”
His wife nodded. “I had such a plan for my future, such a clear image, and then suddenly, it was gone and I…I felt so lost.” A tentative smile came to her lips. “But I no longer regret that day,” she whispered, and Derek’s heart stopped for the barest of seconds. “Although this life is different and…hard, it is a challenge, and I’m slowly coming to realise that…I need this. I want this.” Shrugging, she sighed. “My old life was comfortable, predictable, but I realise now that it would never have been enough. I think I’ve always wished for something else. I simply didn’t know what it was.”
Derek drew in a slow breath, feeling his skin tingle as her words washed over him. “Do you intend to stay then?” he asked, realising that from the moment she had so unexpectedly shown up at Huntington House, he had feared he would wake up one morning and find her gone.
Madeline swallowed, her hands trembling despite the warming fire beside them. “Do you want me to?”
“I do,” Derek stated simply and honestly, his gaze locked on hers. “I’ve wanted you from the moment I first saw you. However, I feared that a woman like you could never care for a man like−”
In an instant, Madeline flung herself into his arms, her hands sliding up to cup his face before she pushed herself up against him, claiming his lips with her own.
Crushing her in his arms, Derek responded to her kiss with the same passion, a fire burning in his veins, consuming him whole. For a long moment, he allowed himself only to feel, to enjoy the touch of her skin and the taste of her lips. However, much too soon, a nagging voice in the back of his mind, whispered one word−one single word−which felt as though a bucket of icy water had been dumped onto his head.
Townsend.
Shocked, Derek pulled back, staring at her wide-eyed, wishing with all his heart he could simply forget. Looking at her full lips, remembering how they had been moulded to his own only a moment before, he wanted nothing more but to pull her back into his arms. However, he could not shake the question of whether Townsend had tasted those same lips as well.
“Is something wrong?” his wife asked, carefully stepping toward him, her gaze filled with confusion as well as a touch of concern.
Derek drew in a deep breath, his gaze lingering on her beautiful face, and a smile touched his lips. He loved her. Heaven help him, but he loved her, and he realised in that moment that no matter what, he would not be able to stay away from her.
Nevertheless, he had to know. For his own peace of mind.
Swallowing the lump in his throat, Derek stepped forward and grasped her hands, holding them tightly in his own as he met her eyes. “There is something I need to ask you,” he said, feeling her hands tense and grow cold as she drew in an unsteady breath.
Seeing the guilt on her face, Derek gritted his teeth, reminding himself that this was merely an obstacle he needed to overcome. It was not the end. And still, every fibre in his body ached with the agony of imagining his wife in that man’s arms.
Drawing in another breath to steady his own nerves, Derek faced the truth and all the pain it would bring. “There is something I need to ask you,” he repeated, holding her gaze when she tried to look away, “and I need you to be truthful with me. I promise you no matter what your answer is I will not judge you for it. I won’t deny that it will…hurt…deeply, but I know that we were different people then. We hardly knew each other, and despite the vows we had taken, they felt…hollow because they were built on duty alone, and not on…a deeper emotion.”
Biting her lower lip, his wife looked up at him. Then she nodded. “I think I know what your question is,” she whispered, her hands gripping his more tightly as though she feared to lose him.
Derek’s heart jumped with joy at such an honest sign of her feelings for him. No matter what she would tell him, they would be fine. For no matter what had happened, in the end, she had not chosen to stay with Townsend. Something had made her leave and come to find him, Derek, at Huntington House.
Whatever it was, Derek would always be grateful for it.
“One night…”
As his wife’s words echoed to his ears, Derek closed his eyes, wishing he did not have to hear them. But he did, and so he met her gaze once more.
“…I went to a ball,” she began her tale, “and Lord Townsend was there. We danced, and then he escorted me outside onto the terrace.” She swallowed, guilt resting in her eyes. However, she did not try to look away. “I asked him to because…I was angry with you, because you had abandoned me. And then I learnt that despite your assurance that you never had any intention of trapping me into marriage, you had kept Lord Townsend from following me that night by spilling your drink on him.”
Derek inhaled a deep breath, remembering the panic that had seized him at the thought of Townsend and Madeline alone together. “He told you that?”
Madeline nodded, and Derek realised how Townsend’s words must have seemed to her. Of course, she had thought he, Derek, had lied to her. How could she not have?
“I was furious,” Madeline continued, pain and sadness in her eyes as she spoke. “After you told me you would not object if I were to…,” she swallowed, shaking her head, “I wanted to…” Closing her eyes for a moment, she drew in a steadying breath. “I have never felt so rejected in my life, and I thought if you didn’t want me, then…” She shrugged. “I’m not certain what I thought. But I wanted to hurt you. Even if you didn’t care for me, no husband would remain unaffected if his wife were to…”
As his stomach turned upside down, Derek forced himself to remain calm, his muscles aching painfully with the tight grip he forced on them. “Did you…did you share his bed?” he asked through gritted teeth, knowing the moment of truth had finally come.
Holding his gaze, Madeline allowed a long, torturous moment to pass. “I did not,” she finally said, her eyes searching his, waiting for her words to sink in.
For long seconds, Derek thought he had misunderstood for deep inside he had been so prepared to take this blow and find a way to live with it. “You did not?” he asked, his eyes wide as he now searched her face.
“I did not,” she repeated, her voice steady. “However,…”
Instantly, Derek’s insides clenched.
“I did kiss him,” Madeline admitted, “and I allowed him to kiss me.” Her gaze held his, and although he saw a certain apprehension in her green depths, she stood tall and proud, not pleading for forgiveness.
And Derek had to admit she was right not to do so.
Certainly, they had both made mistakes. However, it had been he who had brought that about. If only he had taken her to Huntington House with him. If only he had had the courage to tell her why he had pursued her that night. If only he had given her more on their wedding night than a simple kiss.
Still, to him at least, it had been a deeply disturbing kiss as it had made him realise how much he cared for her. Although back then, he had barely allowed that thought to enter his mind; deep down, he had known that a kiss only felt as overwhelming as theirs had when love was involved…or at least the first blossoming emotions that eventually grew into love.
Had she felt it too? Or had theirs been no different than the kiss she had shared with Townsend?
“I need you to know,” his wife said, drawing his attention back to the here and now, “that the moment he kissed me, I knew I was making a mistake.” Shaking her head, she sighed. “When he kissed me, I felt…nothing, which was more confusing as I still so vividly remembered the way you had kissed−”
Unable to keep at bay the overwhelming joy that coursed through his body, Derek jerked Madeline forward and into his arms. His hands cupped her face, feeling the softness of her skin, and his lips claimed hers in a searing kiss.
For long moments, they clung to each other, holding on to the sweet joy of having the secrets that had stood between them for so long finally revealed and knowing that they were strong enough to get past them. Although doubts remained, they were merely a small echo of the dread that had lived in Derek’s heart before. “Did you ever wish−?”
“Never,” his wife assured him, her arms coming around his neck, pulling him closer. “I do not ever want to feel his touch again. Only yours.”
Wrapping her in his arms, Derek pushed away the image of Townsend, refusing to allow that man even the smallest victory. “Only mine,” he whispered, reclaiming her lips, determined to focus on the good instead of the bad. After all, had his wife not chosen to return to him when she could have stayed with Townsend? Was she not right here in his arms, kissing him with all the passion he, too, felt for her?
Sweeping her up in his arms, he carried her to the bed, more than ever determined to make up for lost time.