Chapter 18

CHAPTER 18

O liver stared at the open doorway his wife had just fled through. Good God, how had it all come to this? It had never once occurred to him that such a possibility existed. Even when his mother had complained a few times that she heard no news of his nursery being filled, he’d firmly told her to direct her energies to her own life, considering she had moved to the dowager cottage in Kent.

There was piercing pain in his heart that he hardly knew what to do with. He left the chambers and made his way downstairs and outside into the bracing cold. Inhaling deeply, he walked along the path that would take him to the lake. Taking a wife and then having children was simply an expectation he’d had from childhood—the necessity of his rank and his duty to his title. He had craved a family, but the idea of a wife, a woman to fulfill his needs had been a more tangible dream than imagining children. Over the last few months, though, he had thought of them, of the pride he would feel seeing Lily swollen, the joy of having a daughter as radiant and intelligent as her, of having a son who would possibly emulate his ways. The loss of a dream he had just allowed into his heart felt like a blunt stake being hammered through his chest. He touched the spot above his heart that ached like a physical wound.

And Lily had known there was the possibility of them never having a child, of them never fulfilling his duty.

He absorbed the pain filling his soul and was mildly shocked at the tears that smarted his eyes. How did his wife feel? She would have been aware of this loss for years. The pain she must have endured, and what she must feel now at revealing all to him, gutted Oliver.

Anguish rolled through him like poison coursing through his veins, and he wanted to release the brutal hold he had on his emotions and weep. For he understood that he had lost his Lily. She expected him to divorce her, and she would push him to it, for what lord did not hunger for a spare and an heir.

How could she even think for a moment he would let her go?

She would not allow him to comfort her, protect her, and share the pain. She would withdraw as she had been doing for the last week, cutting off her love and emotions from him. Ah, fuck.

A crunch against snow had him shifting to see who had intruded. Radbourne. He’d forgotten the earl and Lady Wimbledon had planned a visit. Oliver was going to be a discourteous ass, but now was not the time for guests.

The earl assessed him with a frown. “Good God, Ambrose, has someone died?”

The boulder pressing on his chest grew heavier. “No, but I fear now is not the time for a visit. Please extend my apologies to Lady Wimbledon.”

Concern flashed in his friend’s eyes as he said, “We had a row. She did not come down with me.”

Oliver turned back to the tranquil waters of the lake. Radbourne stood beside him, a silent support Oliver did not desire. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

Radbourne did not reply for several moments, then he said, “The last time I saw such a look in your eyes, you had just learned of your father’s death.”

Oliver stiffened. There was some truth to the earl’s statement. He couldn’t shake the feeling that his soul had been ripped from his body. He had no notion of how to make Lily see that they could survive whatever storm life threw their way. Hell, he had no notion how they would survive this hurdle, but losing her was not an option for him. Everything in him clamored to go to her, but what would he say? Her eyes had seemed so desolate. “My marchioness is barren.”

“Christ.” There was a silence, then the earl said, “Will you divorce her?”

Disbelief scythed through Oliver. “Do you truly believe such a thing possible of me?”

“You have a duty to your title,” Radbourne rebutted softly. “No one would fault you if you sought an annulment on those grounds. Surely, she must have known. That, my friend, is fraud.”

He faced his friend. “I believe my wife arrived at the same conclusion.” How little faith she had in him and his love. “I do not feel betrayed that she did not tell me. What I feel is fear I will lose her.”

Confusion marred his friend’s expression. “Fear?”

“How do I convince the woman I love more than my title, more than duty and obligation, that she has not failed me? How do I comfort her when her arms will remain empty, her womb hollow, and the one thing she wants more than anything I am unable to grant her?”

“What will you do?” the earl asked gruffly.

“Haunt her as the mere idea of losing her haunts me. I cannot … will not let her go.” Even if it meant battling her fears for all the time they would be together.

Lily stood with her hands pressed against the cool windowpane. Her love stood by the lake, and she so desperately wanted to go to him. But what could she say? What could she do? She didn’t have to imagine the pain and disappointment he felt—she knew it too keenly. Letting him go was the hardest thing she would ever face in her life. She wanted to scream and rail, but he was a peer of the realm and needed an heir. It was also more than that. Oliver was so giving and wonderful; a man like him should have several children to shower with affection.

It took all of Lily’s fortitude to turn from the window and walk over to the bell pull and ring for her maid.

A few minutes later the door opened. “You rang, your ladyship?” Millie said with a smile.

“Yes.” Lily cleared her throat. “My trunks need to be packed and the carriage ordered to be ready.”

Millie’s eyes widened at the unexpected request. “Yes, my lady,” she said, dipping into a curtsy and rushing from the chamber.

Lily swallowed and walked stiffly over to the armoire. She opened the door and started to take down her gowns, her mind churning. Where would she go? Not to their townhouse in London or their manor by the seaside in Dover. It would be best if she returned to her parents’ cottage, or perhaps she would stay with Mary Rose for a bit. When the ton got a whiff of their separation, the scandal would be horrible. Her throat went tight, although she truly did not care about the gossip to come. She had lost the man she had fallen so irrevocably in love with.

She lingered over a dark red wine gown, caressing the taffeta between her thumb and forefinger. Lily recalled the night she had worn this gown, a few weeks past in London. They had strolled through the lantern-lit walks of Vauxhall Gardens, chatting together. Lily had felt so happy and free and cherished as their enchanted evening had captivated her senses. Her marquess had wickedly seduced her, out in the open where anyone could have come upon them. She lifted the dress to her face and inhaled deeply, thinking she could still smell their passion, hear his masculine chuckle of satiation afterward, feel the gentle kiss he had pressed across her brow.

Anguish tightened her throat. A raw, ugly sound was wrenched from the depth of her being, and the tears came freely. I can’t do it. Dear God, I can’t leave .

Pressing her hand against her stomach, she inhaled deeply, trying her best to control the pain and doubt tearing through her heart. She would go to him, but what would she say?

A whisper of sound had her spinning around. Oliver stood in the doorway, his cold blue eyes scanning the gowns dumped on the bed in such disarray. He could possibly banish her from his sight forever, but the knowledge he was trapped without a future for his title would haunt him terribly. It would be an annulment, then. She masked the tumult of her emotions and steeled her spine, waiting for words that she feared would forever wound her most deeply.

“Have you forgotten our vows so easily?”

Her lips parted, then quivered slightly. “No, of course not,” Lily said hoarsely.

He scrubbed a hand over his face and sighed; the defeat in the sound dragged a flinch from her. “Have I been such a poor husband, have I been so shallow in character, you believe I would cast you aside?”

She recoiled at the bleak pain and anger that flashed deep in his eyes. “You have been … you are wonderful, my lord.”

Oliver watched her like a hawk. “You can leave. I’ll not stop you.”

Lily almost crumpled to the carpeted floor at that declaration.

Then he took one step closer. “But wherever you go, so shall I.”

Her eyes widened, and she stared at him, confusion rushing through her. “I do not understand.”

“Did you not swear before God that you would love me, always?”

“Yes,” she whispered, fearing the hope that twisted through her heart. Her heart was beating too fast. Lily dropped the gown onto the carpeted floor, skirted around the pile of silk, and took a few steps toward him. She halted in the center of the room. “You will resent me,” she said hoarsely.

“Wrong,” he ground out with such force she gasped. “I do not love you because I hoped you would give me children, nor does that define the woman you are. I fell in love with your generosity of spirit, your unmatched sweetness and vigor for life, and your wonderful sensuality. I would be pleased if we were so blessed, and I daresay I would be happy. But not happier than I am with you in my life and my heart. I do not feel the pain as keenly as you do, my sweet, but I implore you to give me the chance to grieve with you, to hold you close when it gets unbearable. I want to be with you when you are happy, and I shall certainly be there when you’re despondent.”

Oliver walked over to her and cupped her cheek, an echo of something dark and painful lingering in his eyes. “My greatest fear now is that I will never be able to make you happy because I cannot give you your heart’s desire. To see your pain and to hear your sobs is like acid against my skin.”

Her lower lip trembled with the effort to prevent the tears from spilling. “That is how I feel to know I cannot give you a child.”

“My heart’s desire is you, Lily … only you .”

There was something in his soft declaration, about the way he waited for her, his patience, that shattered the cold knot of doubt inside her. “I love you, too, so desperately, but—”

“There is no but.” His mien was implacable, and the awareness that this man would not let her go weakened her knees.

“We’ll never have a child.”

“I know.”

She shook her head, dazed at the intensity of the emotions twisting through her. “There will be no heir.”

“I have a cousin, and he has sons for when the need arises.”

“There’ll be no sons or daughters, no sweet and unfettered laughter echoing along these hallways for us.”

“I know.” Then there was a thick, heavy silence that echoed with so many questions … and with hope.

“And I still want you forever, Lily.” He kissed her, a mere brush of his lips over hers, softly brushing away her tears with his thumb. “I am nothing without you in my life, my sweet.”

The tight, wonderful ache in her chest threatened to consume her. “Oliver …” she murmured wonderingly.

He met her eyes with a steady stare. “I see you are beginning to understand,” he murmured.

And she did. There was no disappointment in the gaze peering at her, no bitterness, or betrayal. Only a desperate hope that he would not lose her, and a love so powerful she almost sank to her knees and wept her relief. This man saw her with all her flaws and adored her despite them.

“I’m sorry. I’ll never doubt you again,” she whispered, unable to stop the tears, not wanting to stop the hot trails as they washed away the crippling doubt that had held her for too long. “I love you, so much, Oliver.”

He kissed her again, and again, and again.

A storm of sensations washed over her senses. His lips moved from hers and began spreading a line of kisses over her jaw and down her neck. She held him to her, feeling safe, loved, the tearing emotions ebbing. They undressed, and he never stopped kissing her. Over her brows, her cheeks, then her lips again, sometimes rough, sometimes tender. She felt lost in a sea of bliss and arousal, a soft gasp escaping Lily as he lowered her to the bed and covered her body with his like a warm, sensual blanket.

“I love you, Lily,” he murmured, his lips barely brushing against hers.

She could only stare up at him, lost in the intensity of his gaze. Lily lifted so very slightly and licked along the seam of his mouth. A fleeting smile touched his lips before he ravaged. He wasn’t rough. In fact, her love was gentle, yet his touch and every kiss were filled with fiery passion. He trailed his lips down, kissing the soft globes of her breasts before licking the hardened tips of her nipples, drawing an eager moan from her throat. Heat raced through her veins and settled into the throbbing heart of her. “Oliver!”

He took his maddening kisses down to her stomach, where he lingered. A lump formed in her throat, and warmth blasted through her. She wasn’t frozen with fear at the wonderful and telling caress, only pure need, and she arched her hips in instinctive want. His tongue dipped into her navel, a quick flick before a lingering kiss. She savored the moment, and the love and acceptance he seemed to be communicating with his touch.

He went lower, and teeth nipped along the insides of her thighs, followed by the tender ministrations of his lips. For a moment, she could barely breathe with wanting him in her, soothing the ache. Then he was there, but with his wicked tongue, which slid through the tender folds of her pussy with erotic precision. She wailed as pleasure knifed through her. He rose, his face heavy with desire, nudged her legs apart, then positioned himself and slid deep into the heart of her.

Oliver loved her with slow, easy strokes, gradually thrusting deeper over and over. Her hips arched, her hands ran down his sweat-slicked back to cup his buttocks, pulling him deeper into the heart of her.

“Without your love, I am incomplete,” she gasped tenderly.

A powerful need flared in his eyes, and he bent his head to brush his mouth along her temple then down to her lips, which he claimed in a deep kiss.

It could have been hours later, or a few minutes, but they were locked in a passion that had only room for the love they had for each other. When Lily climaxed, it was a gentle crash but deeply satisfying. With a groan, her love reached his pleasure right after.

Her fingers brushed his face. He pressed his brow against hers for a few seconds before rolling onto his back, taking her with him and tucking her into his side. She yawned, quite indelicately, burrowed into her marquess, and as the comfort of sleep claimed her, Lily knew she could never be happier.