But the opposite had happened. Each day that had passed, every moment that he’d spent with her, witnessing her quiet strength, her intelligence and her beauty, he’d desired her more.
And it was tearing him up inside.
Somewhere in the back of his brain a warning clanged, telling him that once again he played the fool. He’d planned to hate Elise de Montford. Hell, he’dwantedto hate her. But he couldn’t, no more than he could hate his own eyes or bones. In truth, he was beginning to care for her, and he of all people knew how dangerous that was. Feelings like these could divert him, weaken his purpose—cripple him with guilt for daring to have them at all. He wasn’t fit for such emotions. Not he with his stained history and the blood of innocence on his hands.
And yet Elise was his. This was their marriage for better or worse, and it waited only for him, now, to make it a union in truth.
Closing his eyes, Gray tilted his head back and held tight against the pain that washed through him. He let out the air from his lungs slowly, unclenched his fists, and looked down at his wife one more time before pulling off his tunic and sliding into bed beside her.
She stiffened, and he heard a catch in her breathing. It lasted but an instant, and yet he knew that she was awake. She lay on her side, facing away from him, and he gently placed his palm on her waist, sliding his hand forward until it rested on the flat of her belly.
“Elise?” he murmured. He caught the sweet fragrance of her hair and fought the impulse to bury his face in it. Leaning closer, he breathed in her ear, “Let me see you.”
She lay still for another moment before rolling on her back, clasping the blanket tight under her chin. She gazed up at him, eyes wide and solemn, and he stroked a wispy curl from her forehead.
“I’d share our bed, this night, lady, if ’tis meet with you.”
At first he wasn’t sure she’d answer. Then she whispered, “Aye, if ’tis your will,” before averting her gaze and biting at her lower lip. She clutched the coverlet tighter to her chest, her knuckles white.
Gray paused. He’d never bedded a woman who seemed so nervous. Her apprehension surprised him after the passion she’d shown the night of their wedding. Of course, then her actions had stemmed from fear that Eduard might learn their marriage remained unconsummated. She’d needed the bloodied sheet as proof for her brother and the rest of the guests, and so she’d pursued their joining. Now no such pressure goaded her. She was free to act as she truly felt, and it was clear that she was frightened.
’Twas natural, he supposed. He was a larger man than most, and she was a virgin. He couldn’t forget that. He needed to go slowly and gently, to use all the skill he possessed to make her desire their joining before he took her in body as he had in name.
Breathing deep, Gray willed himself to patience. He cupped her cheeks in his palms, bringing her gaze back to him before pressing a kiss to the tip of her nose. He moved his mouth in a gentle path along her cheek and to the delicate hollow beneath her jaw, feeling encouraged when she made a soft sound in her throat and reached up to rest her fingers tentatively on his shoulder.
Even that light touch sent a jolt of fire through him. He moved over her and kissed the sweet temptation of her mouth. Her eyes fluttered closed and she sighed again. But she seemed to tilt her head up a bit, as if offering herself more fully for his taking. He didn’t hesitate. He deepened the kiss this time, gently coaxing her to return the caress. She seemed to respond in kind, but when he stroked the tip of his tongue along her lips and into the honeyed recess of her mouth, she pulled back; her eyes snapped open, and she blinked up at him, alarmed and uncertain.
Innocent.
Aye, innocent—he’d forgotten again. Damn his need. He’d allowed it to overwhelm him, and it had caused her to stiffen fearfully against him; both of her hands once more gripped the blanket as tight as if it were a rope to salvation.
Pulling back, Gray held his breath.Slow,he reminded himself.Go slow. You’ll fright her if you push too fast.He leaned his forehead on hers for a moment, then pulled away to kiss lightly along her cheek again before moving on to nuzzle her earlobe.
“’Tis all right, Elise,” he murmured, hoping to soothe her. “There’s naught to fear. I’ll be gentle with you.” He stroked his fingers rhythmically along the side of her face and over her shoulder and arm, trying to dispel her anxiety and ease her back into their lovemaking.
He breathed in her sweetness, feeling a heady swirl of sensation wind through him. Brushing his lips over the tender spot below her ear, he pressed more fully against her and feathered kisses down the side of her neck as his passions began to swell.
And it was then that he noticed it.
She was trembling. Tiny shudders that shook her body like a leaf in a storm, rippling, it seemed, from the very center of her. Gray lifted his head, concern jabbing him with tiny pinpricks. Her teeth were clenched together, her eyes squeezed shut.
“What is it, Elise? What’s wrong?”
She gave no answer, though a single tear slid down her cheek. His gut felt hollow as he moved his fingers to brush it away. But it was followed by another and still another, until she sobbed softly and turned her head. The pit in his stomach opened wider.
“Sweet Jesu, lady, why are you crying?”
She didn’t speak at first, only shaking her head. “Forgive me,” she whispered at last, her voice ragged. “But having you touch me so…I—I can’t think of anything but—”
She stopped talking when he gently used his finger to tilt her face to look at him. Fresh tears wet her cheeks, seeming to flow without end.
He gazed at her, his heart wrenching. He felt lost and powerless in the face of this sadness. After a while he sat up and shook his head, running his hand through his hair. “I cannot continue this if the very act of lying with me in our bed terrifies you to tears.”
“Nay, my lord, ’tis not fear of you,” she said, her voice catching as she sat up next to him. “’Twas only that your touches made me remember…” She swallowed hard. “They made me remember how Eduard would stroke his fingers over my cheek as you just did. Only he did so right before he beat me. He said it pleased him to caress me first, so that I might experience the fine contrast of sensation when he struck me.” She looked down at her hands clenched tight in her lap. “He repeated that phrase each time he beat me, until I could hear the words without him speaking them. Until I could not escape them.”
“Each time?” Gray asked hoarsely. He watched the shadows playing over her face, knowing they reflected darker emotions lurking inside. He felt the sudden urge to pummel Eduard to a bloody pulp. “He abused you other times, then, beyond what I saw the night of our wedding?”
“Aye,” she whispered, struggling to meet his gaze. “He struck me almost daily at Faegerliegh Keep.” In the moonlight her eyes looked wet and full, vulnerable with remembered pain. When she tried to muster a smile for him, his heart broke a little more.
