Deveric bounded through the front door, eagerness leading him to take the stairs two at a time. Several maids stared at him, but he ignored them, racing up to the landing and down the hallway toward Eliza’s chamber.
He ran directly into his mother.
“Oh!” she exclaimed as he reached his arms out to steady her.
“Mother,” he said. “My apologies. I didn’t see you there. I was—”
“—Rushing to see Mrs. James?”
He grinned widely. “To see my future wife.”
Her jaw dropped. “But—but she’s a commoner.”
“Yes.”
“She’s—American.”
“Yes.”
“You’re the Duke of Claremont.”
“Yes.”
Her shoulders sank. “Think of the family.”
“I’m always thinking of the family,” he growled. “I thought of the family when I protected Amara from scandal. I thought of the family when I married Mirabelle, wanting to satisfy Father’s wishes, though he was already dead. I thought of the family when I covered for his peccadillos, when I ensured nobody knew he had died in his mistress’s bed, Mother. I think of the family all of the time, and yet grave things keep happening.” His eyes pierced hers. “Don’t I deserve a chance at something good?”
His mother pinched her lips, looking away from him. “Of course,” she whispered, after several tense, silent moments.
It was all Deveric could do to keep his mouth from falling open. He’d expected protest, not affirmation.
“I’m sorry, my dear,” she went on. “I’ve watched you this past week, watched how you’ve fretted, how you’ve suffered. As much as I have fought against this Eliza James, wanting to keep her from hurting this family, from hurting you, my heart ripped in two, seeing you in such pain.
“I didn’t think you’d survive after Mirabelle and my granddaughter. I couldn’t bear for you to go through that torment again. I thought I was protecting you like I wish ... like I wish I’d had someone to protect my heart from your father.”
She walked over to a portrait hanging on the wall, a picture of his father in his youth. Staring at it, she said, “I’m sorry I’ve let my own disappointments turn me into who I’ve become.”
She touched his father’s painted hand. “I was not always this hard. I wanted a grand love, too, you see. I thought I found it in your father. He was all I ever wanted. But I ... I was not enough for him. Never enough.” She broke off for a moment, her eyes flicking back to her son’s. “When he stepped out on me, it nearly killed me. I loved him. I loved your father, Dev.”
He made to walk over to her, but she held up her hand and shook her head. “Let me finish. I convinced myself if I was the best duchess I could be, if I followed every rule and observed every bit of decorum, I could win him back. And if not that, at least no one else would be able to find fault with me, not like he clearly had.
“It didn’t work. He said I had become ... boring. Not only that, I found myself accused of adultery by my adulterous husband.” She bit out a caustic laugh. “As if I could ever do to him what he had done to me. And yet, I was still weak. I couldn’t refuse him when he returned home, even though I knew he’d been with other women. I loved him too much.”
She walked back over to Deveric, smoothing his hair off of his forehead, just as she had done when he was a small boy. “I told myself if I grew strong, if I grew hard, that he would no longer have power over me.” She exhaled slowly. “I was wrong. He still has power over me, and he’s long dead.”
She sucked in a breath, her shoulders shuddering. “I thought I was shielding you, shielding this family, by trying to keep you away from this Mrs. James. She was too different, too foreign, a commoner; everything I thought you didn’t need, everything I thought would only make life harder.”
A single tear spilled down over her cheek. “I have seen in these last days just how much the American means to you, seen that this is much deeper than simple desire. I see now you are a different man than your father. You are like me. You are faithful. You will love only once. What kind of mother would I be to keep you from your chance at happiness?”
Deveric crushed her into his arms. It was the first time they had embraced in years.
“It will take me time to accept this, dearest. To accept her. But I will not attempt to stop you any longer. Go to her,” she said, the tears flowing openly now.
His own eyes threatened to spill over. “Thank you, Mother.” He wiped a tear from her face. “Thank you.”
Eliza stood at the edge of the bed, clutching the post, praying for the dizziness to subside. She was so tired of lying around. She wanted to get up, to do something.
The door swung open and Deveric strode through. When he saw her standing there, unsteady on her feet, he raced to her. “What are you doing?” he chided, fear lacing his voice. “You need to be lying down!”
“All I’ve been doing is lying down,” she grumbled, even as she grabbed on to his shirtfront for support. She was so close to him, his delicious woodsy scent enveloped her. She closed her eyes and breathed in, savoring his nearness. Leaning her head on his shoulder, she sighed as he wrapped his arms around her.
“Ah, Eliza. My sweet Eliza,” he said, his lips brushing her hair.
She pulled back and looked up at him, drinking in those vibrant green eyes, which glowed with emotion. She said nothing, the expression on his face, so gentle and yet so fierce, hypnotizing her.
He leaned down and brushed his lips against hers. She knew he meant it to be a light kiss, nothing more. But as he tried to lift his head, she snaked her arm up and around his neck, sinking her fingers into his hair, pulling him back down to her. She kissed his chin, then the corner of his mouth, then settled her lips on his, tasting him, teasing him, darting her tongue out and licking his lower lip. He groaned and opened his mouth, returning her caress, drinking her in. She let him. His hand slid up her side and around to her front, over her breast. Her nipple puckered as his fingers traced it, and she moaned.
At the sound, Deveric’s eyes flew open and he released her mouth. “Oh, God, Eliza, I’m so sorry.” A muscle in his cheek ticced.
Eliza grimaced. “Will you stop apologizing every time you kiss me, you big idiot?”
“Idiot?” he repeated.
“Yes. Idiot. I like you kissing me. I want you to kiss me. For Pete’s sake, I need you to kiss me.”
He brushed a piece of hair out of her face. “But you’re still recovering. I don’t want to hurt you. I never want to hurt you.”
“The only way you hurt me is when you stop, dummy.”
He chuckled. “Your choice of vocabulary is making me doubt your claims.”
She nipped at his lips. “Get used to it, blockhead.”
He laughed, a full, rich bellow. She loved it, the joy she heard in his voice.
Eliza let go of him and sat back down on the bed. “In truth,” she confessed, “I am a little dizzy. While I think that might just be the power of your kisses, I probably should lie down. Will you lie with me?”
She moved higher on the bed, patting the space next to her.
“You want me to lie with you?” he repeated.
She smirked. “What? Do you think I’m going to impugn your honor?”
“I might impugn yours,” he teased.
“A woman can hope.”
He stalked to the door, and for a moment, she worried he was leaving her, that she’d gone too far. Instead, he thrust the bolt in the lock and then drew the curtains closed over the windows, before returning to her, his eyes dark, expression inscrutable.
Deveric settled himself on the bed next to her, lying on his side so they were face-to-face. He reached out and traced a finger down her cheek, a myriad of emotions skittering across his face. “Eliza, why did you ask Becca to go to the monolith? How did you even know it was there?”
She stared into his rich green eyes, mesmerized by the pulsating orbs. “I ... I ... Cat wrote about it. She told me if I ever wanted to go home, I should find the monolith.”
He said nothing, waiting for her to continue.
“I was to sit on the rock in the middle of the stones and wish to be with William Dawes.”
Deveric’s eyes widened. “Dawes? Stoneleigh’s brother?”
“Not your William Dawes. The one from Virginia. My William Dawes.”
He didn’t like the sound of her calling any man hers. Except for me. I want her to call me hers.
“If I wished hard enough, Cat said, if I pledged my whole heart to loving William and having him love me, she thought that might bring me back.”
Deveric’s whole body went rigid. She’d wanted to leave him that badly? For another man?
“But I already knew after only a few minutes on that horse I couldn’t do it, Dev,” she said, her eyes glistening as she traced a finger across one of his eyebrows. “I couldn’t. My heart isn’t with Mr. Dawes. It never will be. It’s with—it’s with Freddy. And Amara. And Becca and Emmeline. It’s with Clarehaven. It’s with this family. But most of all, it’s with you. I love you, Deveric Mattersley. With all of my heart.”
He could see the sheen of moisture in her eyes, a sheen he knew was reflected in his own. He should be careful, shouldn’t touch her, but it was as if a force beyond his understanding pushed him toward her. For a second, his brain recognized it was a force beyond understanding that had brought them together. Then he was dipping his lips to hers, tasting her sweet essence, and all thought was forgotten.
Her fingers dug into his hair, pulling him closer. He gladly acquiesced. He peppered her lips with kisses, and then moved over her cheek, nipping at her earlobe. “What you do to me, Eliza,” he whispered, before returning to her mouth.
She said nothing, merely stroking his face before moving her hand down, unbuttoning his waistcoat, each release sending surges of anticipation through him. Who knew the mere act of unbuttoning could feel so erotic? And then she was tugging at his shirt, pulling it from his breeches. Her fingers slid up underneath the cloth and over his belly, sending shivers through him. It had been so long since anyone had touched him there.
“I love that you have hair here,” she said as her fingers danced across his chest. “Too many men in my era shave all their hair off. It looks weird.”
Shave chest hair? He hardly had time to ponder that curious statement before she was undoing the buttons on his shirt, as well.
“Eliza,” he said, the last bit of reason reminding him now was not the time or the place. He didn’t want to hurt her, to endanger her fragile health.
“Mmm?” she murmured as she planted kisses along his pecs, stopping to lick his nipple.
A zing of electricity went through him even as he tried to pull away. “We can’t.”
At that her fingers stilled. “Why not? Because we’re unwed? I’m not a virgin; I’ve been married before.” A fingernail traced its way across his bellybutton, distracting him. “I know what I’m doing.”
“No. That’s not it. I mean, yes, that’s it, but no.” He sighed, rolling over onto his back. “I can’t.”
She eyed the bulge in his breeches. “Other parts of you tell me you can.”
He coughed, unused to such frank talk. “I want to. Believe me, I want to. But I can’t. I don’t want to hurt you. There’s ... too much of me.”
Eliza laughed out loud. Color flooded his cheeks.
“I know men like to boast about their size,” she said. “But I highly doubt that you are too much.”
“You don’t understand,” he insisted. “Mirabelle didn’t care for the intimate side of marriage. She said it hurt.”
Eliza arched a brow. “She’s not the only woman you’ve ever been with, right?”
Deveric closed his eyes. “I should not be having this conversation with a lady.” Running his hand through his hair, he admitted, “No. Of course not. But a few others expressed ... concern, too.” Though they hadn’t complained after, he had to admit.
“I’m not concerned. If a woman can birth a baby, she can accommodate a man. Even a well-endowed one.” She waggled her eyebrows at him.
When he said nothing, she frowned, her brow creasing. “Is that why—” She hesitated, her fingers reaching out to stroke his side again. “Is this what’s kept you from being with me, kept you running? You think you’ll hurt me if we have—if we make love?”
His throat constricted, and he swallowed before answering. “I’m afraid I’ll do more than that. Even if you ... tolerated intimacies with me, the idea of you—” He broke off, overwhelmed by a vision of Eliza swollen with his child. It sent jolts through him, unexpected thrills as much as terror. “Mirabelle died giving birth, Eliza. She died because I insisted on a physical connection, on trying for another child. If I hadn’t done that—”
Eliza’s delicate brows twisted. She was quiet for a moment. “Dev, are you saying you think you killed your wife?”
He squeezed his eyes shut, his mouth flattening into a harsh line. “My wife. My daughter.” He swallowed again. “I can’t, I won’t, do that to someone else.”
She traced a finger over his eyebrow, her eyes brimming with emotion. “But she gave birth to Frederick. Were there problems in that birth?”
Dev frowned. “No.” The midwife had assured him everything had gone splendidly, in fact, though Mirabelle had used different terms.
“Then how can you blame yourself? That makes no sense.”
Tears pricked the back of his eyes. “Amara said the same. Emerlin, too. But don’t you see, Eliza? Don’t you see I can’t risk it, won’t risk you?”
“No, actually.”
His eyes widened at her simple, matter-of-fact response.
“Frankly, I think these hips were made for child-bearing.” She snorted before her face grew utterly serious. Stroking her hand down the side of his face, she cupped his cheek as her eyes burned into his. “If we live our lives always assuming the worst is going to happen, that’s not living. I lost my husband. I lost my parents. But I never lost hope I would find happiness, Deveric. I couldn’t. I wouldn’t have been able to go on if I had. It’s what ... it’s that hope that brought me to you.”
Deveric lay still, his thoughts and emotions tumbling over each other. He couldn’t believe she was so nonchalant about it all, so unconcerned about the risk to her person. And then what she’d said about not living, about hope ... It rang so true.
At length, he said, “You astound me.”
Eliza rolled over to him, climbing on top and pressing her full body into his. “You intoxicate me,” she said before kissing him again.
He groaned as she moved her lips down across his neck, reveling in the frissons of electricity ricocheting through his body. Could she be right? Mirabelle had birthed Frederick, after all.
He wanted to believe so badly. Or at least one part of him did.