Page 28 of Unbound Duchess

Ellen raised her chin as relief flooded through her, and gave him a measured nod of approval.

“Let us go to the church then,” she agreed.

He nodded in return, a smirk tugging at his lips. He then held out his hand to her and waited for her to come to him. For a moment she simply looked at it, wondering if, like in the carriage, she would feel those sparks from his touch.

She was reaching out to test such a theory when the memory of Benedict’s slap rose suddenly and sharply in her mind. She gasped and stumbled back, her trembling hand going to the faded bruise on her cheek.

“Easy.” Laurence’s voice was deep and smooth as he said the single word.

Her breaths coming in rapid, short bursts, Ellen flicked her tear-filled gaze from the floor to his face. There was no anger, no pity. Just a quiet strength that radiated from his entire being.

“I am not him,” he said in that same patient, soothing tone. “I will not hurt you. Let go of the memory. You have no purpose for it. And when you are ready, take my hand.”

A tear slid down Ellen’s cheek as she gazed up at him.

“How did you know?” she whispered, her hand still pressed protectively against her cheek.

Laurence’s jaw worked as his nostrils flared. Something dark and awful passed across his expression, but Ellen was certain it was not for her. No, it was likely a bad memory of his own that he’d once defeated.

“Let us just say I understand the signs,” he said simply after a moment. “When a person’s memory—particularly a bad one—decides to jump into the present.”

Questions rose in Ellen’s mind, pushing away the awful memory of Benedict’s slap. A second later she was no longer thinking of her own pain, but wondering what sort of agony Laurence had experienced in order for him to have to learn such a trick.

She would ask him, she decided. Later, when they knew each other better. For now, though, they had a wedding to get to. Ellen lowered her hand from her face, and once more, reached out to Laurence’s still waiting open palm.

Sparks, warm and delightful, traveled up her fingertips and through her arm as she took his hand, and despite her recent anxieties, her entire body relaxed as his fingers closed firmly but gently over her own. As he led her out of the cottage, she wondered if he felt them too. And, if he did, what would they do about it?

CHAPTER ELEVEN

“Sister!”

Anger erupted in Laurence’s veins as Ellen flinched by his side, obviously taken off guard by his sister’s over-exuberant welcome. Madalene bounded toward them, oblivious to the effect she’d had on Ellen.

“She means no harm,” Laurence whispered in Ellen’s ear. “No one in this house does.”

He watched as Ellen expelled a held breath just as Madalene reached them and threw her arms tightly around his new bride. The ceremony had been short and intimate, just as she said she preferred. Still, Laurence had found himself pausing slightly as he was urged to repeat his vows. Even though he had been the one to suggest the marriage, he still found the circumstances of this surreal.

He could have gone his entire life without a wife, yet now he had one—one stolen from his enemy. Though he delighted in the irony, he still felt pity for Ellen. She deserved to be more than a pawn in their twisted game, yet it seemed there was no way around her being one.

“Welcome, welcome, welcome!” Madalene crowed happily as she squeezed Ellen tight. “Oh, I have been so excited to meet you ever since Laurence told me he was getting married!”

She pulled away, a pout on her lips as she flicked an annoyed glance at him before smiling back at Ellen.

“I do apologize for not being at the wedding, but Laurence insisted I stay behind. He said you preferred a more private affair,” Madalene explained to Ellen.

Laurence watched, his stature stiff, as Ellen offered his sister a tentative smile in return.

“He was right, though I do apologize if you took offense,” Ellen offered sweetly.

“No,” Madalene swiftly replied, shaking her head as if she found the notion silly. “Not at all. In fact, I find it quite fitting for Laurence. Unlike me, he is quite comfortable in his solitude.”

Ellen glanced up at him with questioning eyes, and he merely gave her a curt nod.

“I had no idea we shared such a similarity,” she said to him.

“The Ton bores me,” Laurence answered.

“Well, it excites me,” Madalene interjected, “and I shall be taking full advantage of its soirees while you two have your honeymoon.”