Page 39 of Unbound Duchess

Raindrops splattered against the panes, blurring the view of the gardens below. His vision had been blurred all week, he supposed. He could not decide where he fell with Ellen. On the one hand, he wanted to give her the protection he promised. On the other hand, he wanted to rip off her dress and claim her body as his own. The fierce desire had taken root in him right after he’d left her room five nights ago, and not even the distance he’d put between them seemed to make the vivid fantasy fade.

He never thought of himself as a particularly rough lover, but when it came to Ellen, all of his fantasies had taken a rather sharp turn. It was why he’d chosen to stay away. She needed someone soft. Gentle. With what she’d stirred awake in him, he was not sure he could be those things. He had thought that by staying away from her, such carnal needs would subside. Instead, her absence had only fueled them.

Then there was the more pressing issue. He did not love her. If he moved too fast, he could make her believe otherwise, and he did not want to fill her with false hope. Not only that, but she had survived something harsh because of his interjection at the auction. He did not wish to fill some heroic, romantic role and lead her to believe that there was some happily ever after in their future, when he could make no such promise— even if he felt Ellen deserved one. He found her spirit most…impressive.

He gritted his teeth against the thoughts, and dropped his gaze from the storm clouds to the garden below. His already tense jaw tightened painfully as he made out a familiar body lying in the field of dying lavender. He knew that face, even through the rain-blurred panes separating them. Ellen had the entire house to do with as she pleased. Yet there she was, lying in the wet garden, as the storm rained down on her, completely unmoving and almost serene in her expression.

Let her go. Ignore it. A voice warned. For a moment he sided with it. To be sure, it was not proper for a duchess to be lying soaked in her garden, but his estate was private. It was not as if anyone but the servants or he would see her odd display of relaxation, and he paid everyone well enough not to gossip. That, and the worry that he might not be able to keep his rising needs in check if he went down to her. Could he hold off from joining her on the wet earth? Hold off from kissing her as the rain came down on them, and he used his overheated flesh to warm her no-doubt chilled body?

“Stay.”

He said the word aloud without meaning to, gripping the mental leash of control with all he had.

Then thunder roiled through the clouds, and it was so loud that it shook the window panes. Before he could give it another thought, he was moving, shoving open the French double doors against the wind and stalking toward the gardens just around the corner. Rain lashed at his face as the wind whipped his hair, but he did not slow down until he was standing over Ellen. Her look of serenity caught him off guard. It was as if she was welcoming the storm coming down upon her.

“Ellen!” he shouted against the rising sounds of the storm.

Her long, dark lashes lifted up as her body flinched at the gruffness of his voice. Guilt slammed into him. Against the storm, she found no fear, but the bark of his tone had her shrinking away.

“Good day,” she greeted calmly, snuggling back into her spot on the ground.

His brow flew up in surprise.

“Good day?” he echoed. “There is a storm! You are drenched and shivering! Get up at once and get inside.”

Whatever fear she had felt upon hearing his voice must have faded because she simply closed her eyes and stretched her hands toward the dying stalks of lavender.

“I like it out here,” she sighed. “The air is thick with the scent of rain and lavender. It is most calming, don’t you think?”

Laurence’s jaw dropped as another clap of thunder charged through the air around them. He was speechless. He’d never heard such a ridiculous thing. Let alone from someone who held the title of duchess. Privacy or not, he decided, this would not do.

“Ellen, get up,” he urged. “You will catch your death in this storm, and we have much work left to do.”

Ellen slowly raised her lashes, looking as unbothered as ever.

“Oh, do we?” she asked, her soft tone surprising him with the taunt laced within it. “I had no idea. Since you have not seen or spoken to me since my arrival.”

Lightning forked above them, bright and angry, and with that, Laurence decided he would not be taunted into an argument in the middle of a storm.

He reached down with a quickness, grabbing her by the waist and hauling her up over his shoulder.

“What in God’s name are you doing?” she screeched, fighting his hold. Her tiny fists pummeled at his back as he began marching back to the house, her legs kicking wildly.

“Enough,” he growled, swatting her backside.

Ellen’s answering hiss was more animalistic than human as she wrenched her head back to look at him with narrowed eyes.

“Did you just spank me?” she snarled.

“I will do more than that if you keep fighting me,” he snarled back with equal fervor. “Have you gone insane, woman?”

“Insane? I am not the one tossing people over their shoulders like they are mere dolls! Now let me go!” she demanded, yanking at his slick, wet hair.

Lust poured into his veins as he felt her fist yank at his hair, and he hated how much he suddenly liked the fight. He ignored it, though, telling himself it was rage rather than desire that he was feeling, as he carried her back into his study and dropped her onto the couch across from the crackling fireplace.

Still fuming and still needing a moment to rein in his emotions, Laurence turned away from her as he peeled off his soaked jacket and stalked toward the chest disguised as a window seat. He lifted the lid, yanked out the blankets from within, then threw them at Ellen. She caught one, but the other landed on her head.

Laurence stifled his laughter, his foul mood breaking just a little as she sat there for a moment with the blanket over her head. Then she yanked it away, revealing a mask of annoyance beneath her soaked, ruined curls. The hatred shining in her eyes should have had him apologizing for being so rough, but his stifled laughter broke through his chest and bounced loudly off the walls of his study.