Chapter 16

CHAPTER 16

T ime had not been solid for a while. He could recall searing pain, a feverish panic that Elizabeth might also be - then his consciousness ebbed like a tide. There were snatches of awareness, a long night where every time he tried to sleep people shouted and jostled him and walked him up and down a room and then fed him something slippery and foul that drove him to vomit.

He could remember just wanting to rest, hearing his family begging him to keep awake, why was Diana crying? What was happening? Why were they so -

It had felt endless. But then it had slipped away too and he was being woken by a man poking and prodding him and feeding him strange smelling liquids, then being woken again and then again in a shifting sea of slipping in and out of consciousness.

When he finally came to himself and felt like his grasp on his faculties was firm, he felt weak and ached in his very bones as though he had been subjected to some great exertion. It took effort to sit up, but once he had done so it became easier slowly to move and he was able to swing his legs off the bed, bewildered to find himself in just a night shirt after all that.

Bright daylight was streaming into his room and the sheets had a bitter scent of sickness to them. Diana was curled up on the chaise at the end of the room and Selina had dropped off in a chair near the bed, both of them pale, their sweet faces creased with worry.

But Elizabeth. Elizabeth was nowhere to be seen. Stephen pushed himself to his feet and then sat again, heavily, his heart thudding with adrenalin. Elizabeth was not here and he could not remember her present in the fevered rememberings of his sickness after the poisoning. Was it possible that she had eaten the poisoned food before he had been able to warn her? With her frailer constitution it was possible that whatever had struck him low would have killed her outright.

“Diana!” he bellowed. “Selina! Wake yourselves!”

Diana squeaked and fell off the chaise in a heap while Selina started to her feet in one movement, bleary with sleep. Both of them flung themselves to his side, and he had to struggle out of their arms in order to get their attention.

“No, attend me. Where is Elizabeth? Was she affected too? Is she -” he did not speak the word. He could not speak it in case it would infect the air and bring about what he was most frightened of.

“Stephen, Stephen,” Selina caught his hand and squeezed it firmly between her own. “No. Elizabeth is well. She did not eat whatever it was that was tainted. She came home and brought the whole house back to where you were so that you would be saved.”

“She’s fine, brother dearest, fine,” Diana chimed in, tears streaking down her cheeks. “We nearly lost you. We nearly lost you.”

This time when they fell on his neck, sobs wracking both of them, he allowed it and wrapped his arms around them. “My poor girls,” he said softly, stroking their hair. “It has been a hard time for you both. How long have I been ill?”

He could feel himself slowly relaxing with the knowledge that his wife was safe. His wife was safe, his sisters in his arms and likely his brother out raising hell trying to find whoever had done this ill deed.

“It has been three days since you collapsed,” Selina said, sitting back a little and trying to compose herself. She always held herself so firmly in hand, forcing herself to bear whatever trials or dangers they faced and remain the steady anchor of their household.

“The physician said you might have died, had we not reached you as quickly as we did,” Diana added, leaning into his side like she was a little girl again.

Stephen bent and kissed her forehead. “Where is Elizabeth?”

Both of his sisters glances at each other, their expressions darkening. It was rare he saw Diana angry, and it made his stomach twist unpleasantly. “What is it? What has happened?”

“She was the only one with you when you were poisoned,” Diana said slowly, her hands twisting together. “And she used to be a Barnes, so -”

“Herbert was a fool and declared her at fault for the whole business,” Selina finished, crisp in her fury. “It’s clearly nonsense, but in your absence the servants are looking to him to order the household and we could only protest.”

“I beg your pardon?” Stephen said, feeling an ice-cold rage wash through him and brush away any lingering weariness. “He did what ?”

“Exactly,” Selina said. “Both of us knew that Elizabeth would do no such thing, but his suspicion of her is too great to be reasoned with.”

“Go and fetch him for me,” Stephen said, his voice cold. “I shall be dressing and fetching my wife from wherever he has put her, but I shall have a few minutes before then for us to have words.”

Selina stood, and took Diana by the arm and the two of them hurried from the room, giving him the privacy to change from the bed-shirt into clothes that did not stink of a sick bed.

He was finishing dressing when Herbert rushed in, not even pausing to knock and clasped his hand.

“Stephen! You are up and about! Should you not be resting? I will send for the physician immediately.”

“Where is my wife, Herbert?” Stephen asked crisply, stepping back from him. “What have you done with Elizabeth?”

“That treacherous witch?” Herbert’s normally pleasant face twisted into an expression of fury. “I’ve had her locked in her room until we could be sure of your condition. Then I shall send to the authorities so we can decide what to do with her.”

Stephen felt himself go hot with rage and grabbed Herbert by his collar and shook him hard. “You damned young fool . How dare you treat her so? Poison me? There is no underhanded bone in that woman’s body! If she wished me dead she would take matters in hand herself to my face, not feed me poisoned sweets with a sweet expression!”

He shoved Herbert away from himself and stormed from the room, not wanting to wait one more moment to listen to his brother try to excuse his behavior. He could understand being suspicious perhaps, and scared and angry, but to take such actions against Elizabeth while Stephen had been insensible - it was beyond bearing.

When he reached her room he had to summon a servant for the key and then unlock the door, furious all over again that she had not been just shut inside but locked away like a prisoner in her own home.

“Elizabeth!” he said, rushing inside and coming to a halt, finding her stood by the window in one of her old plain dresses, her hair long and loose about her shoulders and her face cold and pale in the sunlight. “Are you well, have you been hurt?”

“I am not hurt,” she said coldly, turning her head slightly to look at him. It was as though they had gone back to the beginning and she was cautious and wary of him all over again. “I am your prisoner, sir. I am as well as that can make me.”

His mouth felt dry and his heart was beating strangely in his chest as he approached her. “You are no prisoner of mine. I know that you have no hand in what has happened and I will say so to anyone who needs me to.”

“How can you be so sure?” she asked. Her gaze was distant, as though she were looking at him from very far away. “I am a Barnes. We are a treacherous breed of people. I could easily be behind the whole matter.”

It ran him through to hear the words coming from her own lips, but he shook his head fiercely. “No. You are not behind it. I know it as well as I know myself.”

Oh and it hurt her, it hurt her like she was rending in two to say the words. To not fling herself to his feet and beg him to know her better than his brother did, to not let him embrace her and tell her that all was well.

Elizabeth felt as though she must be trembling all over. Her throat was tight and she ached to be still so cold and distant to him but she must. Had she not brought this danger to his doorstep by being near him? Did she not mean that he must always be careful, always be looking over his shoulder in case another be trying to kill him?

“How can you be so certain?” she said, feeling her numb lips forcing themselves to form the words. “Did it never occur to you that I might hate you just as well as my father does? The man I was forced to marry in order to protect my own family?”

“Is that true?” Stephen asked, sudden and sharp, a look of hurt on his face.

Is that true?

It took so few words then to destroy the trust he had in her. He could never see her as anything but a tool of her family that might be used to hurt him. Elizabeth turned back to the window, feeling her eyes sting with tears. She couldn’t speak.

“Is it true,” Stephen repeated, so close to her now that she could feel the heat of his presence. “Do you hate me, Elizabeth?”

She turned at that, staring up at him in surprise and saw it in his face. He did not think her a murderer. He did not. He still did not.

“I -” she stopped, her throat choking on the words and he touched her cheek with one of his lovely hands, so strong and scarred and safe. “I -”

“You can be honest,” he said softly, his voice warm and kind. “If you hate me, you can tell me. I shall not harm you.”

“You would never harm me,” she said quickly, her tears spilling down her cheeks. “I know that like I know myself .”

“Then?”

She couldn’t do it. Not even for his own sake. She shook her head slowly. “I do not hate you.” It was so far from hate, what she felt, that she was too scared to name it yet. It was the other thing, she thought. The sweeter thing.

“Nor I you,” he said, a smile blooming on his lips. “I have missed you, wife.”

At that a soft sound, not quite a sob, tore its way from her throat and Stephen’s smile gave way to concern. “Ah sweetheart,” he said, gently cupping her face and peering down at her. “It’s alright.”

“Is it?” she said, and Stephen pressed a kiss against her forehead as if in response. “Is it alright?”

He was still cradling her face in his hands and, as their eyes met, that irresistible force was back between them, that pull which drew them together even when they had seemingly disliked each other in the very beginning. Elizabeth could taste her heartbeat in her mouth and then Stephen’s mouth was on hers and she was answering his kiss with a sudden fierce hunger that welled within her.

“We will make it alright,” Stephen promised between kisses, the surety in his voice melting the shard of ice that had lodged in her stomach. “We will make it right together.”

The two of them made their way across the room, Stephen walking her backward onto the bed and kissing all the while as if they couldn’t bear to be parted even for a moment. As the mattress hit the back of her knees Elizabeth let herself fall backward and edged herself further up the bed, looking up at him, inviting.

“I want you,” she said. “As my husband. As your wife.” and the noise he let out in that moment was gratifying.

“Are you…” he said, throat working. “Is that what you want?”

“Yes,” Elizabeth said. “Please.” and it seemed that was enough for him because he immediately divested himself of jacket, cravat, and waistcoat before lowering himself over her on the bed. Elizabeth whimpered softly as his mouth joined hers again, the weight of his body pressing down on her somehow comforting and thrilling all at once.

Stephen’s kisses moved across her jaw, nipping at her earlobe and producing a sharp little cry that seemed to particularly please him, before starting down her throat. Elizabeth was pleased that this time he didn’t feel the need to ask permission for every single touch and caress, and was instead putting his earlier discoveries to good use.

Thrilled by her own boldness Elizabeth canted her hips up against that place where he was already swelling beneath his breeches, and the groan he let out ignited something deep and primal within her. When Stephen pulled back she wanted to grasp and clutch him to her but then he was yanking off his shirt, looking down at her with eyes that burned, and all of a sudden her dress felt too tight, hot against her skin.

“What was it you said to me the other night?” Stephen said, chest heaving. “That it was unfair for you to be the only one of us undressed?” and, though Elizabeth would deny it if ever asked, she scrambled to join him in disrobing.

Clumsy with desire, he fumbled a little at the laces on the back of her dress, and they both laughed. “Wicked,” he said, sucking a kiss against her throat. “To laugh at your lord husband.” Elizabeth laughed again at that only for it to turn into another moan as his hand found her nipple and he rolled it expertly between his fingers.

“Oh Stephen,” she breathed, voice taught with desire. “I want you. In the manner of man and wife I want you.”

“Turn around then,” he said, those strong hands of his on her shoulders, spinning and guiding her back onto the bed. Elizabeth’s eyes raked up his body, all tightly coiled muscles and fine dustings of hair, and thought she might expire with need if he didn’t make good on his promise very soon.

“Lay back,” Stephen said, the gentleness in his voice belying the naked want in his eyes. “And let me ready you properly.”

Readying her meant more of what they had done the other night, and Elizabeth writhed and moaned and cried out beneath the ministrations of his tongue. But then he paused and pressed a finger against that opening between her legs and said, “May I?” as if that wasn’t the thing she wanted most in the world at that very moment.

It was entirely different to the work of his tongue, work he resumed upon her assent as he slid first one and then two fingers inside her. It felt like closing a loop, completing a circle of pleasure, as the two complimentary sensations came together, making her scream her pleasure without even a thought of who might overhear it.

That same, glorious warmth began to build and build within her but then Stephen stopped, again , and she would have cried out in protest but he was kissing her instead and she could taste her own pleasure on his tongue.

“Wife,” he murmured, and the absolute fondness in his voice made her heart sing. “I am ready to begin if you are.”

It was in a haze of want that she cried “yes, yes,” and watched him position himself between her legs, only for him to wince a little and put a hand to his side and a cascade of ice water to flow through her. He was sick. He had been poisoned and nearly died and was this even safe for them to be doing?

Elizabeth sat up “Stephen, should we? Is this safe? Have you asked a doctor?” Her husband froze and stared at her, and she could tell from his face that he was torn between laughing at her and that deep fondness she apparently inspired in him.

“Ask a doctor?” There was a hint of laughter in his voice but more than that there was warmth and the desire to reassure her. “Wife, no one has ever died from love making. I assure you, we would not do this if it was not safe. I have no intent of abandoning my position so soon. Not when it has become so newly pleasurable.”

As much as she was still concerned for him Elizabeth couldn’t help smile at that little bit of flattery. “Will you assure me you will stop should you feel any discomfort, any pain at all?”

“If you promise me to do the same,” Stephen said very seriously. “The first time can be painful for some women but it need not be, not if the husband approaches it slowly and carefully, and takes pains to prepare his lady first. You must tell me if it hurts, or if I am not going slowly enough.”

The thought of it, of his manhood finally inside her, filled her body with heat and her reluctance to allow him ebbed away. “I promise,” she said, laying back and letting her legs fall open before him. Stephen smiled gently, and carefully positioned the two of them before, finally, finally, pushing inside her.

Elizabeth gasped at the feeling. It didn’t hurt exactly, but it stretched and pulled, and felt so strange to have something so large intruding inside a place that, prior to today, had never had anything inside it before. Stephen stilled above her, carefully scanning her face for any signs of discomfort, and the knowledge that the whole of him was buried inside her was enough to set her clenching around him.

“God Elizabeth,” he moaned. “What are you doing to me?”

“What am I doing to you?” she demanded, pushing her hips up against him. “Don’t just lay there, do something.”

“As my duchess wishes,” he said, a little smile quirking the corner of his mouth before, very slowly, beginning to thrust in and out of her.

Elizabeth whined and arched her back beneath him “Stephen! Damnit, more!”

“More what,” he teased, though the strain from maintaining this agonizingly slow rhythm was obvious in his voice.

“I don’t know what! Please! I’m not fragile Stephen. You won’t hurt me. Please!”

It seemed that please was, as ever, the magic word for him, because he began moving properly then, and oh, that was almost it. Almost enough, but not quite, and she thrust her hips back at him, meeting him stroke for stroke, as she chased that pleasure that was seemingly just out of reach.

Then Stephen slipped his hand between them, to circle the place he had tormented with his tongue just moments before, and yes, that was it. That wonderful, complete pleasure from before, but more so, magnified, by the feeling and the knowledge of his manhood inside of her. That rush of feeling, those waves of electrifying pleasure, came faster this time, and she cried out with shock at the intense sensations where her body pulsed around her husband’s.

It seemed to shock him too, or at least he cried out near as loud as she had, and it only took a few moments more for him to still atop of her, languid and spent as she.

Instead of leaving her as he had last time, he pulled her closer, into a sleepy and warm embrace and aa Elizabeth settled, feeling safe at last she realized the truth could no longer be denied. She loved him. She loved her husband.