Chapter 12

CHAPTER 12

E liza's breath left her body in a whoosh.

For a moment, she wondered whether her mind and body were still connected. It was pleasure and pain, all wrapped up together, and Fitz stilled against her, as though sensing her discomfort.

She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, holding him close against her, trying to draw strength from him to make it through this moment.

"Eliza, are you all right?" he asked, his voice nearly unrecognizable, so choked it was with desire, and she nodded against him.

"I just need a moment."

"Take all that the time you need."

She breathed deeply a few times, allowing her body to become used to him. Concentrating instead on his breath, hot on her cheek, and his hard body against her, she was finally able to relax, surprised that when she did so the pain receded, leaving only the pleasure behind.

Pleasure and some uncertainty, but she supposed that was part of the adventure.

"I'm ready," she said hoarsely.

"Tell me if you want me to stop," he said.

"I will."

He began moving within her, thrusts that began soft and slow, gradually increasing in speed and intensity until she found herself moving against him as well, seeking that pinnacle she had received from him before and so longed for again.

The table was cool beneath her thighs, so at odds with her heated body, and as Fitz rocked faster, the table began to move as well until the front legs were coming off the floor with his every movement.

Eliza held onto him tightly, needing him as her anchor of support, and he held her fast against him, not letting her go.

The build-up of the entire evening seemed to have only spiraled her need for him out of control, the thrill of doing this in such a forbidden place increasing her excitement, and soon enough she found herself reaching that edge once more, spiraling around him.

"Eliza," she heard Fitz say in the distance, but she was so caught up in her need to fall over the precipice of her desire that she didn't acknowledge him, only holding him tighter against her as she needed him to stay exactly where he was, to allow her pleasure to reach its fulfillment.

"Eliza, I need to—" Fitz's words broke off with a shout as he began to still against her, his only movements a shuddery jerk that told her he was coming along with her, his pulsing in synch with hers.

She couldn't have said how long it went on for, only that all she could hear was their intermingled breath – until she became more aware of a dim sound beyond them. A knock.

They both jumped, Fitz whispering a curse, "Oh, shit," as he slid out of her and began to fasten his breeches as quickly as he could before reaching out to help her reassemble her clothing.

"My lord? Are you within?" came a voice from beyond, one that Eliza didn't recognize but Fitz whispered, "The butler," before looking frantically around them.

"Yes, I am here," he said, making Eliza swivel her head toward him, for how was she supposed to explain her presence here? "I seem to have locked myself in."

"One moment, my lord. I need to find the key and then I will have you out of here shortly."

The jingling of keys only sent Eliza's already frazzled nerves on edge, and Fitz hissed, "Hide," as he lifted her off of the table and pulled her toward the far wall, gesturing toward a space at the bottom between the wine casks.

She opened her mouth, ready to tell him exactly what she thought of hiding in the dark corners of a damp wine cellar, but then the door began to open, and she had to act without further thought, cramming herself in the tight space, grateful, at least, for the dim light of the room.

"Apologies, my lord," the butler said, allowing light from the kitchen beyond into the room. "Your guests and your mother were becoming worried about your absence. Had I known you were here?—"

"Not a problem at all, Hastings," Fitz said, his silhouette visible from Eliza's hiding space. He ran a hand over his hair, which was sticking up at odd angles after she had run her fingers through it so aggressively. "Thank you for rescuing me."

"Of course, my lord," the butler said, pausing for a moment. "Is all well?"

"Oh, yes," Fitz said, following Hastings' gaze toward the table, which was rather… askew. Even the candle had been knocked over, explaining why the room had been sent into such darkness. "I'm afraid I jostled the tasting table. I will arrange everything as it was."

"We will do that, my lord."

"No, no, now that I have light, I will find the drink in question and bring it up."

"Which is it? I will gather it for you."

"Hastings, I would prefer to do it myself. Sometimes I like to feel… useful, if you know what I am saying."

"Yes, my lord," Hastings said, even though he was obviously baffled by his lord's bizarre behavior. But if Fitz departed, it would likely mean she would be locked in here or left to be discovered by the staff.

"I will keep a wedge in the door so that you are not locked in again," the butler said before backing away.

"Thank you, Hastings," Fitz said, remaining where he was until the butler's retreating footsteps could be heard echoing away and Fitz rushed over to where she was crouched, stuck in the wine rack.

He reached his hands in and helped her out, as Eliza tried not to be cross with him. Her anger quickly fled, however, when she saw how distressed he was.

"Eliza, I am so sorry," he said, his forehead creased in worry. "I should never have?—"

"It's fine," she said, waving away his words. "I didn't want to be caught in here either. Did I like hiding as though I should be ashamed? No. But I would have had no excuse for my presence here, had I been discovered."

"It's not that," he said, shaking his head urgently, and she stared at him closer, for she had never seen this side of Fitz before, such concern on his face, causing his entire body to hover on edge.

"Then what is it?"

A noise sounded from outside the room, and he shook his head, although his consternation remained.

"We don't have time to discuss now. I'll come to you tonight, all right?"

She nodded succinctly before he walked to the door, looking from one side to the next before motioning toward her, and she walked toward him, stopping when he grabbed her hand.

"When you get to your room, lock your door and do not allow anyone in except me, all right?"

"Why?" she couldn't help but ask, never one to do as she was told without question.

"I know these gentlemen are my visitors, but I do not entirely trust them," he said before pausing and saying with a frown,"not that I'm much better."

"The difference is, I wanted this with you," she said, placing a quick kiss on his lips and squeezing his hand quickly before slipping past him and up the stairs to find her chamber.

Grateful when she made it there unnoticed, she shut the door behind her and collapsed against it, sinking to the floor as she brought her hands to her chest, breathing deeply as all that had just occurred washed over her.

She had pictured this day for so long – making love to a man, feeling that immense sense of pleasure, and becoming a complete woman.

It was nothing like she could ever have imagined.

It was so much better.

He should have known better. After his past, to allow this… well. He had to speak to Eliza – not that he could fix anything now. It was too late. All they could do was wait.

He had worried about how long it would take him to convince the other gentlemen to retire for the night.

Fortunately, his mother and Eliza's called the night to a close shortly after he reappeared, and Brighton's drunken state sent him to bed early. Fitz was sure that Whitby would have stayed up for hours and droned on about the most minute of circumstances, rehashing every word spoken in Parliament while Fitz had been away, but fortunately, Fitz had been able to make his excuses and soon depart.

His steps were heavy as he climbed the stairs, stopping in front of Eliza's bedchamber. He laid his head against the door, wondering how he was going to face her.

What he had done was inexcusable. While coming together with her had been one of – if not the – best moments of his life, he should never have released inside of her. He had no idea if she was even aware of what he had done or what it could mean for them.

He knocked on the door as quietly as he could, and she whipped it open as though she had been waiting for him.

He slipped inside, finding that she was already prepared for the night. He stepped toward her, sliding his hands over her shoulders and her bare upper arms. "Are you all right?" he asked, to which she frowned at him.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"Well, after we—that is?—"

"Fitz," she said, her lips sliding into the smile that he so loved, the dimples on her cheeks popping. "That was amazing. There is nothing to apologize for."

"But there is," he said, taking her hands and leading her over to the bed, sitting them both down upon the end of it. "I… I finished within you," he said, looking deeply into her eyes. "Do you know what that could mean?"

"Yes," she said, her lashes flicking downward to cover her gaze. "There is a chance – a slight chance – that it could put me with child. I know that. I am not stupid."

"I never said you were. But it was my fault. I should never have allowed myself to?—"

She held up a hand. "It's done, Fitz," she said gently. "I suppose we shall find out in due time if anything will come of it. But there is nothing we can do now."

"I do not suppose there is."

She reached out, cupping his cheeks. "I like to think of all that could come of this. That was, to me, incredible. Do you know that?"

A rush of peace washed over him. If she could look at this with such positivity, then so could he.

"Absolutely," he said. "Incredible is a wonderful word for it."

"Do you think… we could do that again sometime?"

A laugh whooshed out of him. "In the wine cellar?"

She dropped her hands and shook her head, laughter lighting her eyes. "Maybe not the wine cellar. How about a bed?"

"I think that could be arranged."

"Good," she said with an impish smile. "You know where to find me, it seems."

"That I do," he said, pausing for a moment, wondering if he should tell her what he was thinking or if it would admit too much to her. "Tell me why you hated me."

He knew but wanted to hear it from her.

"I never hated you."

"You certainly acted like you did."

She sighed as she stood and began to take small steps back and forth in front of him, reminding him of himself and all of the pacing that he did.

"I'm not sure if I should admit this… but I had a bit of a penchant for you when I was young."

"Only when you were young?" he said teasingly, and she shot him a look of annoyance.

"I thought it had faded until I came out and you completely ignored me. I suppose there was always a part of me that was still interested in you, that wanted your approval if nothing else."

He stared at her, wondering how she couldn't realize how captivatingly beautiful she was.

"I noticed you," he said quietly.

She snorted. "You did not. You completely ignored me."

"That was on purpose."

"What are you talking about?"

"I noticed you and admired you far more than I should have. You were young, my sisters' friend, and…" he couldn't tell her that she was all wrong for him. He had no wish to hurt her. "… and I couldn't allow you to see how much I wanted you."

"So, you decided completely avoiding me was better?"

"I did." It sounded foolish when she put it like that.

"I—" she had stopped pacing as she gaped at him instead. "I'm not entirely sure what to say. I had no idea. I thought you looked at me as a young girl."

"Quite the opposite. I should have looked at you as a young girl. Instead, I saw a woman who was far too desirable."

"Well," she said with a sly grin, "It seems that your feelings worked to my advantage. If only we had discovered them all sooner."

He was already shaking his head. "Then I only would have been in greater trouble."

She crossed her arms over her chest as she tilted her head to study him. "Why do you feel I am so wrong for you?"

"What do you mean?" he said, trying not to answer her question, for he knew very well what she meant, but to answer her truthfully would only hurt her.

"I mean that I could be a suitable wife for you. We are both at the age when it is expected."

A flutter in his chest that was very akin to panic began to grow at the mention of the word wife . He had pushed the thought of marriage to the side for so long that even though he knew it was time he found a wife, actually putting a face and name to her was disconcerting – especially after the one time he had thought he would become a married man.

He couldn't imagine a wife more entertaining or enjoyable than Eliza, however. The only problem was she was not the kind of wife he needed. If he wanted to marry off his sisters and have any chance of the rest of the House taking him and his proposals seriously, he needed a respectable woman by his side. One who would sit demurely and entertain and say all of the right things.

But he couldn't very well tell Eliza that.

"I haven't thought much of marriage," he lied, standing and rocking back and forth from his toes to his heels as the uneasy thought grew within him at Eliza's eagerness to become intimate and now her discussion of marriage. "Perhaps sometime in the next few years."

"A few years," she repeated, her expression unchanged. "Well, I am tired. I think I shall retire for the night. I shall see you tomorrow?"

"Of course," he said, grateful that she had provided him with an escape. "Goodnight, Eliza." He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek before practically running from the room, stopping only to say, "Lock the door!" before running away down the hall.