Lord of Dread: Chapters 31-35 (Patreon)

Chapter 31

Why am I getting the feeling everybody knows what happened between Elijah and me last night? There’s a good chance I’m being paranoid, but I can’t shake the feeling. The maids look at me funny, and it takes everything in me not to avert my eyes and show my guilt as I walk through the estate.

Even Louise was odd this morning.

She didn’t say anything out of character, but I could see it in her eye.

Elijah is already sitting at the dining table, the man dressed and ready for the day. He smiles as I enter, his expression full of heat I don’t care to think too deeply about. Last night he seemed a bit annoyed when I refused to sleep with him, but that anger has disappeared now.

No.

I’m willing to bet it hasn’t disappeared. He’s probably just hidden it inside, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

“Good morning,” he greets.

My eyes narrow. I don’t trust him.

He quirks a brow as I avoid my chair and stand in front of the table instead. I scan the food, pleased to see a scone and a bowl of fruit. I pop a berry into my mouth before grabbing a scone and turning away.

Elijah laughs, and I clear my throat and shoot him my dirtiest glare before leaving the room with all the confidence I can muster. I refuse to let myself be flustered. I’m faintly able to make out the sound of his chair being pushed back, and I hold in a gasp as I quicken my pace and escape into my piano room.

Why in heavens is he following me?

“Rebecca,” he sings, teasing me.

I squeak and walk faster, my shoes tapping loudly with each step. Elijah’s footfalls quicken in response, and just when I think I’m going to succeed in my escape, an arm wraps around my waist and pulls me into the piano room I was running to.

There are only two entrances into this room, and I quickly scan to ensure we’re alone as Elijah pushes me against the wall and flattens me against it with his body. My delicious scone gets crunched between us, and I frown as he grabs my chin and urges me to look up.

“Why are you running from me?” he asks, his voice surprisingly hard. “Do you regret what happened between us last night?”

I’m going to scream.

“No, I just don’t want anybody to know,” I hiss, glancing around.

Elijah cocks his head to the side, not liking that answer, before spinning and shutting both doors leading into the room. I hold my breath, too nervous to move.

“Are you ashamed to have been with me?” Elijah asks, walking back over. He pins me against the wall before reaching down and pulling up my skirts. “You wish only to enjoy me in secret?”

I gasp, at a loss for words as he kicks my legs apart and finds his way between them. He snakes his hand through all my layers before making contact with my bare flesh. I groan, bucking into his hand as he presses his fingers against my nub and begins to rub.

He strokes over my entrance but makes no attempts to enter my still-sore flesh. Instead, he focuses all his attention on the bundle of nerves on top of my sex.

His other hand slides up my throat, his fingers curling around the column of it before squeezing just enough to limit my oxygen. Oh. I gasp, my back arching as I reach up and grab his forearms. This is good, and I stare into his angry eyes as the pleasure builds.

“Say my name,” he orders.

I shake my head. The maids will hear.

“Say my name, Rebecca.”

Fuck. He slows his hand when I continue to fight, and I bite my lip to stop myself from crying out and drawing attention. Elijah grazes the pad of his finger over me once, twice, three times, the teasing too much. He’s got me all worked up, and I need to finish.

“Elijah,” I whisper his name.

He smiles, but it’s full of evil as he shakes his head and leans in.

His lips graze my ear. “Louder.”

I’m going to kill him.

“Elijah!” I offer him a quiet shout.

He pulls back, beaming, before resuming his pleasure. Fire burns through my lower abdomen, and I shut my eyes and rock into his hand as he touches me in all the right spots. I hate how easily he’s able to work me up, and I hate even more how little strength I have when it comes to him.

I clench my jaw when I feel it coming, and Elijah releases my neck before pressing his fingers against my lips. I’m unsure what he’s doing, and I cautiously open my mouth to see what he wants. He shoves two fingers into my mouth, pressing against my tongue and roughly yanking my jaw down.

I can’t close it without biting and hurting him, and I groan as I realize I cannot hold back my noises when my mouth is forced open like this.

Elijah stares into my eyes the entire time, his face void of emotion as he brings me to orgasm. I hate how loud my noises are, but I’m helpless to stop them as my eyes roll back and I convulse against him.

I moan incoherent words, and Elijah waits until I’m slumped against the wall before pulling his hand out from underneath my dress. He continues to pin me against the wall as he reaches for my wrist. My scone is squished between my fingers, and he carefully extracts it before bringing the pastry to my lips.

He pulls his fingers from my mouth the exact moment he slides it in.

“Eat,” he says.

I bite off the end of the pastry and chew, pleasantly surprised to learn it’s chocolate flavored.

The chewing keeps me distracted, but I know I will be a complete mess the moment I swallow and allow myself to think about what just happened. This was not supposed to happen, not in a million years.

This is all Elijah’s fault.

I swallow my bite of scone, prepared to grow angry, but Elijah shoves another piece into my mouth before I get any words out. I push at his chest, ready for him to remove himself from me, but he wraps his arms around my waist and pulls us both away from the wall instead.

What is this man’s problem?

“I won’t be treated as a dirty secret. I’m your husband, and I’m proud of that title,” he whispers, his words rendering me silent.

I struggle to swallow past the lump in my throat. Does he mean that?

Elijah releases me and steps back, the man looking awfully pleased with himself as he moves to the small chair in the corner of the room and sits. He crosses his arms over his chest, still smiling, and gestures to the piano.

“Can I listen to you? I’m tired of finding poor excuses to sneak down here every time you begin to play.” Elijah’s smile grows when I hesitantly nod and move to the piano.

My legs are shaky, all thanks to my orgasm, and I pray Elijah doesn’t notice as I lower myself onto the small bench and pull out some music. I hardly pay attention to what piece I’ve picked as I set it on the stand and scan the first few lines.

I’m familiar with this.

My movements are a bit clunky at first, but after a few seconds, I feel myself relaxing and getting lost in the music. I love the piano, and it feels like second nature as I press the keys and bring the beautiful notes to life.

Elijah watches, but I’m used to having an audience so it doesn’t bother me.

I don’t hate having him hear me as much as I once did. When we first wed, I was determined to keep this from him, deny him the joy of hearing my sound, but he’s said and done enough nice things for me these past few days that I’m willing to indulge him in his request.

I’m finishing the first page when Elijah stands and moves to the closed doors. He pulls them open, the action a relief. I was nervous about what would happen when the room was opened back up, a large part of me fearing there would be maids waiting just outside to enter.

Nobody is.

A maid does step inside near the end of the song, her eyes cast downward as she sets two letters on top of the piano lid. She dips her chin before leaving, and Elijah approaches to see who they’re for. He wordlessly takes one for himself but leaves the other where it is.

It must be for me.

I love getting letters.

My back straightens as I finish the last cords of the song, and the vibrations are yet to finish when I jump up and snatch the letter off the top. My smile grows. It’s from Jack.

“Come sit with me,” Elijah says, patting the seat next to him.

I hesitate, glancing at the open doors, before huffing and joining him. I lower myself a few good inches away, but he wraps his arm around my waist and yanks me closer before I get settled.

I huff. He’s so demanding.

Elijah is busy reading his letter, and I peer over to see who it’s from. I’m sure my movements are incredibly obvious, but Elijah makes no attempt to hide his letter as I peer brazenly at the page.

“Will?” I ask.

“How’d you know?”

“He has horrid handwriting.”

Elijah snorts, the noise very unbecoming for a gentleman such as himself, before flipping the page to read what’s written on the back. I slide my attention to my letter. Jack’s not very good about writing me, the man spending most of his free time corresponding with Louise, and I beam as I rip open the envelope to see what he has to say.

Glitter falls out, and I groan as it gets all over my dress. He knows I hate when he does this. The action is childish and immature, and it’s so damn hard to get loose glitter off a dress.

Elijah hardly reacts as the specs fall onto his thigh, but I know he sees it.

Jack will be horrified when I tell him his glitter got all over Elijah. My husband is in a higher station than my brothers, and I know they wish for him to like them. I’ll tell Jack that Elijah was so angry he stormed upstairs to change.

That will stop the blasted glitter letters.

I pull out the letter, careful not to spill any more paper sparkles, and chirp when I realize it’s an invitation. The stationary is nice, deep blue and thick, and I feel the hard edges before reading it over.

“An invitation?” Elijah asks, peering at the card.

I nod, my pulse racing. “To Jack’s birthday party later this week,” I explain.

Elijah frowns, looking mildly annoyed.

“Later this week? Isn’t that a bit last minute?” he asks.

“He invited me verbally and sent out invites a while ago,” I snort. “We’ve been planning his party together during our weekly lunches, and it wasn’t until last week when I brought it up that he realized he never sent me a physical card. The fool.”

Elijah takes the invitation from my hand, his eyebrows furrowed.

“Why didn’t you tell me this sooner? Were you not planning on asking me to accompany you?”

I gulp, not wanting to answer. I didn’t think he’d like to come. Minnie’s party was an absolute disaster, and I want to avoid a repeat of that as much as possible. Especially considering the party will be held in my childhood home with all my family in attendance.

I haven’t seen most of them since my marriage.

“Is Ben going to be there?” Elijah asks.

Every muscle in my body tenses.

“Probably. He’s one of Jack’s closest friends.” I answer.

Elijah turns to face me entirely, the glitter on his thigh long forgotten as his movement spills it all over the couch and floor. I hope I don’t look too guilty as I turn to look at him as well.

“You helped plan the party, did you not? Did Ben receive an invitation?”

“Yes, he did.”

Elijah works his jaw from side to side. I’ve seen him angry many times, but it’s nothing compared to the fury he’s expressing right now. I set the envelope on my lap, uncaring if it spills the glitter.

“The reason I didn’t ask you to come has nothing to do with Ben. I didn’t think you’d want to, and I was scared of asking and you saying no. Your rejection would’ve hurt my feelings, and I wanted to avoid that happening as much as possible.” I hate being vulnerable, and I hate even more having to admit the lengths I’ve gone to avoid feeling such a way.

Elijah appears to be fighting with himself as he looks toward the ceiling and runs his hands through his hair. He messes up the strands, splitting the wavy curls and sending a few pointing in odd directions.

As confusing as things are between us, I don’t want to ruin them by fighting.

I hate to admit it, but I’m growing to enjoy his company. No longer is it something I merely tolerate, but now I actively look forward to it.

“I would love for you to come with me,” I whisper.

Elijah stands, and I hurry to do the same. He’s taller than me, and I have to crane my neck back slightly to maintain eye contact.

“Please.” My voice is timid, but it seems to do the trick as Elijah gives me a curt nod and smooths his hands down his torso.

His lip twitches as his fingers brush against the glitter, and I resist the urge to crack a smile as I reach forward and begin wiping it off his pants. The proximity of my hands to his manhood is inappropriate, but I shove my worries about being seen aside as I clean him. I’m familiar with this glitter and know the best way to remove it.

Elijah doesn’t stop me, and after a few seconds, I step away and offer him my brightest grin. I know he’s angry, but I’m hoping he’ll let his anger go if I pretend to be obtuse. It used to work all the time with my father.

“Don’t play dumb, Rebecca,” he says instead. “It’s unbecoming for such a smart woman.”

He doesn’t mean for me to take his words as a compliment, but I do, anyway.

“So you think I’m smart?” I tease.

If looks could kill, there’s no way I’d survive Elijah’s frosty glare. His nose scrunches as he steps forward, his movements too quick to defend against. I’m unsure what to expect, but it’s not for him to capture my lips in a bruising kiss.

Elijah molds his lips around mine, and without thought, I tilt my head back and kiss him right back.

Chapter 32

I slip my gloves on, happy they arrived before the party. It was a tough decision, but after much debate, I decided to wear the lace ones with the frilly wrists.

Elijah seemed most excited about those.

Louise fiddles with my hair, fixing the few curls that refuse to cooperate. I think she’s been enjoying my recent requests to wear my hair down. She loves trying her hairstyles, and this is opening a whole new world for her.

“Beautiful.”

I spin toward the door, my face flaming as I catch sight of Louise’s poorly hidden smile in my mirror. She’s always teasing me about my budding relations with Elijah.

The man in question leans against my doorway, not at all embarrassed to compliment me when my lady’s maid is in the room. He knows I feel weird about public displays of affection, and I have a feeling that’s precisely why he chooses to do them.

At this point just about everybody in the house knows we are, at least to some level, intimate. I wouldn’t say I like it, and I’m still thoroughly convinced everybody is looking at me funny because of it.

Elijah makes a point to scan me, his gaze heavy as he takes in my attire. I’m wearing one of my nicest dresses, and I nervously slide my hands down the skirt as he smiles and steps further into my room.

My hair is down today, only a few pieces in the front pulled back and braided together, and I dip my chin to hide behind it as Louise makes herself busy packing her things. She’s ready to go, the woman looking beautiful in my navy blue dress. It compliments her features perfectly, and the tapered waist perfectly accentuates her figure.

Jack is going to be putty in her hands.

I’m glad she agreed to ride in the carriage with Elijah and me. Most people invited to this party have their own form of transportation, and I’d hate for her to feel pressured to pay a driver to bring her.

I know she feels nervous about being invited to ride in the carriage with Elijah and me. It’s a bit unconventional, but it seems most things in my life are. I’m just glad there’ll be a buffer between my insufferable husband and me.

Elijah’s hand is warm as it lands on my hip, and I do my best not to visibly react to it as he enters my personal space and brings his lips to mine. He sure is taking advantage of my misspeak the other week, and I curse myself for permitting him to kiss me whenever he pleases.

He pulls away and fiddles with the strands of hair resting near my waist, his finger coiling them before he tugs gently to watch it bounce. I huff and pull away, not wanting him to ruin my curls with his childish actions.

“Don’t touch them,” I snap, grabbing his wrist and removing him from my hair.

Louise coughs to hide a laugh.

My corset is tight tonight, and I hope my movements don’t look stiff as I loop my arm through Elijah’s and forcibly walk him out of my room. He laughs, humoring me as he lets me lead him downstairs.

Louise follows, the woman eager to get a move on.

“Is everything ready?” I ask, turning to Elijah.

He nods as we step outside. The carriage is already waiting, and I release Elijah before snatching Louise’s wrist and pulling her close.

“Elijah will open the door and help us both step inside,” I whisper, my voice quiet so I don’t draw attention and embarrass her. “I’ll go first, you second. The order will be reversed when we exit.”

Louise and I don’t care much for formalities when we ride in the carriage together, but there will be many eyes on us tonight, and I don’t want people to judge her if she accidentally does things out of order. Everybody knows Jack is courting her, even if it’s not official, and I want her to make a good impression.

“Thank you,” she says.

I squeeze her wrist, excited to watch her and Jack dance tonight. We spent hours these past few days practicing, and I’d say she’s pretty good.

Elijah pulls open the carriage door, and I step forward and accept his outstretched hand before climbing inside. Louise joins me shortly, and Elijah is last to enter. The space is cramped, and I hold my breath as Elijah’s thigh presses against mine.

“Are you excited?” he asks, breaking the silence.

I look up, prepared to answer, before realizing he’s talking to Louise. This is the largest party she’s attended where she’s not working, and I’m sure Elijah knows it.

“Yes, but I’m mostly nervous,” she admits, chuckling.

I watch Elijah, enjoying the easy smile he shoots in her direction. He can be quite kind when he wants to be, and I find it so intriguing to watch him when he’s in one of his good moods. They’ve been occurring more frequently as of late.

I was convinced he would be a grouch today, his anger over being near Ben overshadowing our night, but he hasn’t brought up the other man since his initial questioning when I received the invitation. I’m thankful for it.

Feeling risky, I slide my hand across his lap and touch his forearm. Elijah’s hands dangle between his spread knees, and he straightens and grabs my hand when I make my silent request.

I’m sure Louise will tease me ruthlessly about this later, but I’ll worry about that then.

Elijah clasps his hand around mine, his warmth felt even through my gloves.

He hasn’t commented on my continual use of them, nor has he touched them since the cut on my hand scabbed over and no longer needed his attention. I’m sure he’s aware of them and that he’s never felt my touch, and I wonder how long it will take him to bring it up.

Maybe he doesn’t care. I like feeling his hands on me, but perhaps he doesn’t desire the same.

The thought hurts my feelings more than I’d care to admit.

The road to my childhood home is bumpy, and I squeeze Elijah’s hand when it makes me a bit queasy. He rubs his thumb up and down the back of my covered hand, and when we finally arrive, he doesn’t hesitate to open the door and jump out.

The cool air feels refreshing, and I let out a loud sigh as I step outside and wait for Louise to exit.

The party is already in full swing, and I smile politely as we make our way inside. Jack emerges before we reach the front doors.

“Becks!” he shouts, pulling me into a tight hug.

I laugh, squeezing him tight before pulling back and cupping his cheeks.

“My baby brother, one year older!” I coo, loving how he scowls and rips his face out of my grasp. “Oh, I’m so sorry. Am I embarrassing you in front of Louise?” I continue.

This is payback for the glitter.

“It’s nice to see you again, Jack,” Elijah greets, stepping between my brother and me.

He shakes his hand, and I step to the side and make room for Louise. Jack rushes through a polite greeting with Elijah before turning to his lady, and I’m so distracted watching them that I hardly notice when Elijah pulls me into a hug from behind.

His arms wrap around my waist and his chin rests on my head, and I lean into him as Jack takes Louise’s hands and gives the most uncomfortable greeting I’ve ever seen. Has my brother always been this awkward?

I used to think of him as suave, the man always catching the attention and emotions of the ladies he meets, but he is a bumbling mess around Louise.

That’s quite embarrassing for him.

“Thank you for inviting me,” Louise breathes, her cheeks red.

Jack loops his arm through hers. “It’s my pleasure.”

He leads her inside, and I allow myself to enjoy exactly three more seconds of Elijah’s hold before stepping away and taking his arm.

“Shall we?” I ask.

He frowns. “I think that’s supposed to be my line.”

It is, and I’m happy to have stolen it from him.

We head inside, and I do my best to keep my shock to a minimum as I look around the space. Dad must have spent a small fortune on this party. Why? The man could hardly afford my dowery, so much so that he sold me to the first man who offered to marry me without one.

“This room is where I spent about eighty percent of my time,” I say, gesturing around. “There’s usually a piano in the corner, there,” I continue, pointing to the spot where there now is a table full of desserts.

They must have moved it for the party. There’s no sign of Ben, a huge relief, as I show Elijah all the parts of my home. Most guests are in the main foyer, but nobody spares us a second glance as I pull Elijah away.

“This is where I got that giant scar on my hip,” I laugh, gesturing to an ugly side table in the hallway between the foyer and dining room.

Elijah hums.

“I haven’t gotten the pleasure of seeing that scar yet,” he says.

I gulp, unsure what to say to that. I assumed he saw it that night when he pulled my nightdress up and had his face only inches from it. The scar is enormous and hard not to notice.

“But I look forward to learning every bit of it.” Elijah pulls me into the dining room, his movements smooth even when mine are clunky.

He wraps his arms around my waist and attacks my neck with his mouth. I gasp, my fingers curling into his shoulders as he presses wet kisses to the column of my throat. It makes me ache, and I feel arousal blow in my core as he groans against my skin and whispers a curse.

“I ache for you,” Elijah admits.

Does he?

“Do you ache for me, or do you ache for touch?” I ask.

Insecurity laces my tone, but it’s impossible to hide it. I want Elijah to desire me, but only if it’s me he’s explicitly wanting. I refuse to be a filler. I’m more than just a body to warm his bed.

“After all this time, do you still not know the answer to that question? You’re the only woman I think about at night, the only one I wish was in my arms and bed. When I ache, it’s only for you.”

I stare into his eyes, happy to see he’s telling the truth.

“Good.”

He quirks a brow, entertained by my curt response, before stepping back and giving me room to breathe. I appreciate it and place a hand on my sternum before looping my arm through his and finishing up the house tour.

A few maids spot us, and when we come upon the one I was hoping never to see again, I’m happy to notice that Elijah’s eyes never stray from me. She clearly wants his attention by the way she stares and lingers out in the open, but he doesn’t give it.

Instead, he steals a treat from a nearby platter and places it in my mouth, his eyes darkening the same way they did when he fed me that scone. Does he have a thing for putting food in my mouth? If so, I’m sure I can find a few ways to use that to my benefit.

“Dance with me?” I blurt.

Elijah blinks, surprise taking over his features before he pulls me onto the dance floor. Objectively I knew he could dance, any man of his station having been forced to learn when he was a child, but I don’t think I realized just how good he was.

He leads me around the floor with smooth sweeping motions, his smile oddly genuine as I laugh and try to keep up.

“You have two left feet, Becks,” he teases, using the nickname Jack loves.

It makes me flush, and I do my best not to let my shortness of breath ruin our good moods as I pull him to the refreshment table and grab a glass of wine. Ben is there, his smile wide as he chats with his friends, and I do what Elijah did with the maid and pretend I don’t even notice.

I can tell Elijah does as his grip on my waist tightens, and when Ben looks in my direction, I grab a second glass of wine and press it against Elijah’s chest. My husband doesn’t seem pleased, but he accepts the drink with a tight smile before leading me to the far opposite side of the room.

I spot Jack and Louise a few times and am pleased with how he’s holding her arm. I even catch him making introductions once or twice. I’m glad he’s treating her well. And making his intentions known.

After tonight, there will be no doubt whether they are courting.

Jack couldn’t be any more upfront about it. Good.

“Have you enjoyed yourself?” I ask.

Elijah takes a sip of his wine, and I find myself distracted by how his throat bobs as he gulps. He has such a strong neck. Is it weird to be attracted to it? He takes another drink as if he’s reading my thoughts, and he watches my reaction as he swallows.

“I did,” he confirms.

I roll my shoulders back and spin back toward the room. My sisters are dancing, each one accompanied by a lord. My marriage to Elijah has set a good example, and I’m sure seeing him and I in such good spirits tonight is helping. I’m happy for them.

Eventually Louise finds her way back to us, and Elijah leaves to summon our driver while she and I finish our last drinks. Her face is still flushed, and I don’t even need to ask to know she had a great night.

“Ready?” Elijah asks, emerging from behind us.

I jolt, a bit startled, and ignore his laughter as I follow him outside. He’s not nearly as funny as he seems to think he is.

Chapter 33

Louise grabs my hand as the carriage rocks, the sudden downpour we’ve found ourselves unlucky enough to get caught in far from ideal.

Elijah is the picture of calm as he peers out the small window.

It’s pitch black out there, and I know damn well he doesn’t see a thing, but I don’t tease him for it. It’s only a thirty minute ride from my childhood home to Elijah’s estate, and we only made it about fifteen minutes before the storm began.

We’ve been forced to slow, and the last fifteen minutes have dragged into thirty.

The carriage jerks to the left, and Louise lets out a loud squeak as her grip on my fingers tightens. It’s borderline painful, but I pretend not to be bothered as I inch closer to her. This is by no means the first time I’ve been caught in a sudden storm like this, but this is by far the worst one I’ve encountered.

Elijah turns toward me, a look of concern on his face as he stares at mine. It stresses me until I realize he’s worried about me, not the storm. He leans forward, encroaching on my space, before placing a hand on my knee.

“We’ll be home soon,” he comforts.

I nod, not having the heart to tell him I’m not scared. He clearly enjoys taking on this protector role.

Elijah gently squeezes my knee before turning back to look out the window. I can barely make out the shape of his estate, and I’m pretty sure I can see the flicker of a few lit candles near the curtainless windows.

Good.

I’m exhausted and want nothing more than to crawl into bed and slip into the comfortable abyss of sleep. I’m sure Louise and Elijah are thinking similar things. Well, I’m sure Louise is. Elijah has been giving me teasing looks and touches all night, and I’m pretty confident he will try something before the night is over.

I’m still undecided on whether or not I’m going to allow it.

Tonight has been a good night, and I’m pleased he’s treated me well. He was a perfect gentleman, and I still can’t believe I got him to dance with me. I’ve grown to think that getting such things from him would only result from trade.

Tit for tat.

I purse my lips, hesitating, before reaching down and placing my hand over his. His body visibly stiffens as my gloved fingers slide over his, and I catch him looking at me out of the corner of his eye as I curl them around his palm.

My heart pounds in my chest and only relaxes when I see a soft smile spread over his lips. He’s pleased by this.

The carriage gives another jerk, this one worse than all the others, before it abruptly stops. I’m pretty sure Louise is going to break my knuckles, and I carefully extract my hand from hers before turning to peer out the window with Elijah.

“What’s going on?” I ask.

He shrugs. “I’m not sure. Stay here.”

He’s pushing open the door and jumping into the rain a second later, and I wince as a loud clap of lightning lights the sky and I get a good look at the sheer level of downpour we’re experiencing. I can hear the droplets bouncing off the top of the carriage, but the roof is thick and blocks out a good bit of the noise. It looks significantly worse than it sounds.

Louise and I sit in silence as we wait to hear from Elijah, and less than a minute later he’s pulling open the door and jumping back in.

He’s soaked through, and his clothing slops as he sits and shoots Louise and me an apologetic grimace.

“It seems the wheel is caught in a hole. I’m going to run to the house with the driver and get some men to help get it out. We should be back soon, and we’ll get you home in no time,” he says.

I glance at the silhouette of the house. It’s right there.

“There’s no need for all that. Louise and I can make it to the house on our own feet. Have the stableboys bring in the horses for the night, and they can worry about getting the carriage home tomorrow when the storm settles,” I laugh, pulling up the end of my skirts.

A little rain never hurt anybody, and I don’t feel like being stuck in a carriage all night long while a bunch of teenage boys try to free the wheel in the dead of night.

“Becks,” Elijah starts, still using the nickname he heard Jack call me. “It’s horrid out there.”

I glance down at his sopping wet form.

“I’ve gathered that.”

Elijah licks his lips, and I can practically see the argument swirling around in his brain. He wants me to wait in the carriage, but I’ll be damned if I sit around acting like a damsel in distress because of one little rainstorm.

“Let’s get a move on, then,” I say, gesturing to the door before glancing back at Louise.

She still looks terrified, but there’s a stern expression of determination behind her eyes as she bundles up the bottom of her skirts in her hands. If I didn’t love her so much, I’d be upset she’s exposing her legs to Elijah, but I know she has no eyes for him.

Besides, one glance at my husband informs me that he’s too distracted by my exposed skin to realize hers is out. He shakes his head, forcing his eyes away, before running a hand through his hair and pushing open the door. He jumps out and remains by the steps to help Louise and me down, and only once we’ve both got our footing does he slam the door shut and wrap his arm around me.

The driver does the same to Louise, offering her silent help as we begin our awkward shuffle run back to the house.

Louise and the driver make impressive time, and I groan as I realize I’m lagging. That’s bullshit. I push my legs faster, determined to catch up, but they still zoom on ahead at a pace I can’t even comprehend.

Elijah’s patience is unwavering as he holds my waist and leads me forward.

“You weren’t lying about it being awful,” I huff.

I have to yell to be heard over the rain, but even still, my voice is barely audible to my ears. I doubt Elijah even heard me, but when I hear his laugh, I know he has. He tightens his grip and practically lifts me off my feet as he speeds up our pace.

My lungs ache, my corset not letting enough oxygen into them, but I ignore the dizzying pain as I push forward.

We’re so close, the home’s exterior looming above me, and I force myself not to slow as we finally reach the doors. Elijah shoves them open and nudges me inside. Louise and our driver are already here, both panting as they drip onto the floor.

I’m sure I look like a complete mess, and I struggle to breathe as I lean against the nearest pillar and force myself not to draw too much attention to myself.

“Let’s get you upstairs,” Louise says, straightening up.

“I’ll see to Rebecca. You’re free to retire for the night,” Elijah says.

His eyes are hard as they land on me, and I can tell immediately that my attempts to keep my breathing struggle hidden haven’t been successful. Elijah doesn’t wait to hear Louise’s response before he grabs my arm and guides me out of the room.

Louise doesn’t put up any fight, the damned traitor, as my husband steals me away.

“I can see to myself,” I huff as we exit the room.

Elijah hums but doesn’t respond as he leads me upstairs. I head down the hallway to my bedroom, but Elijah tightens his grip on me and urges me into his space instead.

“Elijah…” I say.

“Let me take care of you, Becks,” he breathes, releasing my arm so he can turn and face me.

His eyes are pleading, and with a sigh, I let him lead me to his room. This is a bad idea. We pass a maid on the way, and she does a double take as she notices our sad, wet states. I wish for nothing more than to hide, but Elijah keeps his head high and his grip on me tight as we cross paths with the maid.

My cheeks are a bright shade of red by the time we finally enter the privacy of his room, and I can only imagine the rumors that will spread about me when word gets out that I was spotted walking to his room so late at night looking like a wet dog. I’m sure all information about Elijah being by my side in a smilier state will be conveniently left out.

“I wish you were proud to be seen with me,” Elijah mutters as he shuts his door and gestures for me to turn around.

My throat runs dry as he works to undo my dress and remove my corset. Layers fall to the floor, each landing with a wet splat before I’m in nothing more than my slip. I continue to run his words through my mind, struggling to find an answer to appease him.

When push comes to shove, the truth is I am embarrassed to be seen with him.

“You cheated on me,” I say, struggling to articulate how I feel. “You didn’t even have enough courtesy to find a whore. You laid with a woman I had to see daily in our home. Being with you despite it makes me feel like I have no self-respect, and that’s what embarrasses me.”

My statement is met with complete silence, and I cross my arms over my chest and hug myself as Elijah steps into his bathroom to run a bath. The water is loud as it hits the tub, and I stare around his room as I wait for him to return. It’s a bit messy in here, with clothing strewn over his desk and four pairs of shoes sitting on the floor in front of the mirror.

His space is usually immaculate, the maids tasked with coming in here and cleaning it each morning, and this mess must have been made this afternoon before we left for the birthday party.

A smile toys at the corners of my lips as I take it in. He tried on multiple outfits before settling on the one he chose to wear tonight. Was he nervous? The thought makes me giggle, and I press my palm against my lips to hold it back.

Elijah pops his head into the room, his expression unreadable as his body follows and he approaches.

“I can’t apologize enough for the way I treated you. I was so angry with my uncle’s stipulations on his inheritance, and I took that frustration out on you. It wasn’t right, and if I could take it all back, I would,” he admits, running his hands down my arms.

His touch is warm, and I instinctively lean into it before thinking better of it and resuming my stiff stance.

“You have no idea how much I wish I could change our past. I wish I had courted you properly. I wish our wedding would have been a happy day, and I regret everything I said and did to you more than you could ever imagine,” Elijah whispers.

I lick my lips, hating that I’m forcing us to keep having the same conversations.

“I don’t want to continue harping on it. I know it’s frustrating,” I say.

Elijah circles my wrists and removes my gloves. He’s careful not to touch the bare skin of my hands as he does so, and he holds eye contact with me as he bends and grabs the edge of my slip.

“It’s not frustrating to me. You’re hurt, and I don’t blame you for needing time to heal,” Elijah admits, his eyebrows crinkling before he leans in and presses a chaste kiss to my lips. “I’m going to prove myself to you, Rebecca.”

He holds eye contact as he slides my slip up and over my head.

I shiver, fully aware I’m naked in front of a man for the first time. It makes me nervous, but Elijah doesn’t attempt to peek at my body as he slips off his jacket and lets it fall to the floor. I remain still as he rids himself of his wet clothing, continuing until all he wears is his underwear.

I hold my breath, waiting to see if he removes those, but he doesn’t. I can’t tell whether or not I’m disappointed by that.

“I want you to sleep in my bed tonight, and in the morning, I’m going to call for the maids to bring us breakfast. I want them to see us together, and I want them to see me doting on you. I want there to be no more doubt as to who you are to me. You are my wife, and you will be respected and treated as such,” Elijah says.

Does he mean that? Elijah continues to stare into my eyes, and after a long second, he finally looks down. I remain still, letting him see me.

I want him to.

The cool air hardens my nipples, and I watch Elijah’s eyes darken as he sees them. I hope he likes my breasts, and I can’t help but smile as he sucks in a shaky breath and looks lower.

“Fuck.”

I hope he means that in a good way.

He reaches for me, his fingers just barely ghosting over my hip bones, before he abruptly pulls back and crouches.

“What is this?” Elijah’s voice is no longer soft, and I peer down at myself to see what he’s looking at.

His face is mere inches from my ribs, and I let out a soft laugh as I realize he’s staring at my corset bruises. Is he concerned about them? He frowns and lightly presses into one, his touch so soft I barely feel it.

“My corsets bruise me when worn tightly. They will go away in a few days,” I assure him.

Elijah straightens back up, and I recoil when I take in his expression. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him look so angry before. Not even when he walked in on Ben and me in the greenhouse at Minnie’s party.

“Please tell me this is an uncommon side effect.” Elijah’s request sounds more like a demand, and I freeze as I debate how to respond. “Rebecca,” he urges.

Should I lie?

“I don’t want people to think I’m pregnant,” I say instead.

Elijah spins and storms away from me, his feet stomping against the hard floor. I remain where I am, unsure of what to do. I didn’t think he’d even notice the bruising in this dim lighting, let alone get so angry.

Blood rushes through my ears, and I force myself to remain calm as he spins on his heel and makes his way back to me. His eyes no longer caresses my skin as they did before, his attention focused solely on the bruising on my ribs.

“You will no longer wear corsets.”

I recoil.

“Excuse me?” I hiss.

Elijah ignores my anger and doubles down on his statement.

“You will no longer wear corsets. What part of that confuses you?” he asks.

Oh? Now he wants to act like a dick. I scoff and push at his chest before storming into his bathroom. He follows me, his arms crossed angrily over his chest as I step into the tub and plop down. Water splashes over the sides, and I shoot him my angriest glare before looking around the room.

He filled it with lit candles, probably hoping to give me a romantic bath, but I refuse to let that calm my anger.

Elijah blows out a loud breath before stepping forward and lowering himself next to the tub. We glare at one another as he grabs a washcloth and bathes me, his touch surprisingly soft as he cleans me of today’s grime and washes my hair.

“You make me so angry sometimes,” he admits after a few minutes.

I shrug.

“You make me angry most of the time.” I’m proud of my retort.

Elijah continues to wash me, and the second he’s finished I stand and reach for a towel. This bath had the potential to be nice, but instead he ruined it with his ridiculous demands. I can’t just go without a corset, and he’s an idiot for trying to demand that of me.

I dry myself off before making my way back into his bedroom, and I feel his eyes on me as I pull back his covers and slide into his bed. He made promises to me, and he will be keeping them. I want him to dote on me and show the house my place in his life.

Elijah makes quick work bathing himself before joining me in bed.

He’s not a complete fool, and he doesn’t try to pull me into some exaggerated embrace as he slides in next to me. I lay on my back and stare at the ceiling, and Elijah situates himself to my left before throwing one arm over my stomach and curling his hand around my hip.

It’s the closest he’s getting to me tonight, and I cross my arms over my chest until I have no choice but to fall asleep.

Chapter 34

I wish I were angrier about this. I should be angrier about this.

Elijah sleeps with his head on my chest, his cheek pressed against my bare breasts, and his leg thrown over my waist. I don’t know what I was thinking when I crawled into his bed naked last night, but I’m glad he had the common sense to put on some underwear.

The thin fabric does nothing to hide the hard appendage pressing into my hip, though.

It’s horribly distracting, and I lay rigid as stone as I try and figure out my next move. I should get up and sneak back into my room before he wakes and anybody realizes I’m here. The sun is only now beginning to rise, and I doubt anybody, specifically Louise, knows I’m not in my bedroom.

I left my head and glance at my dress. It’s still lying in a heap on the floor from when Elijah undressed me last night, and even from here, I can tell it’s soaking wet. We should have hung it up to dry.

I probably would’ve done so if I weren’t so damn pissed.

How dare he tell me I’m not allowed to wear my corsets? He can’t very well expect me to go around half dressed. I’d be made a laughing stock.

It takes everything in me not to reach down and punch him in the head. He’s sleeping peacefully, and I’d love nothing more than to ruin that with severe skull pain. I want to bop him right in the temple with my sharp knuckles.

Elijah shifts, nestling his head further into my chest, before tightening his leg around my hip.

I need to get out of here, and clothed, before he wakes up.

My anger prevented me from thinking clearly last night. I was so angry that I didn’t care if he saw me naked, but now I care very much. My body is not for his eyes. Especially after he reacted so poorly.

He was supposed to worship me and say I’m the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, but instead he yelled at me for my bruises and made ridiculous demands. Besides the daunting task of putting on my wet dress, the only reason I haven’t left yet is because he promised to pamper me this morning.

As angry as I am at him, I want him to show all the maids precisely who I am to him.

Elijah slides his hand up my waist, the action immediately telling me he’s not nearly as asleep as he’s currently pretending to be.

I wait, interested to see where he tries to take his hand, and stiffen when it slides to my ribs. He presses his palm over my bruises, and after a second, he pulls away to peer down at them. His eyes are riddled with sleep and are only half open as he scans me.

His eyes briefly flash to my breasts, but they don’t linger.

I try not to be offended by it. It’s not like he hasn’t seen a woman’s bare body before. This is nothing new to him, nothing exciting.

My husband is a whore.

I shove Elijah’s hands off me before pushing back the covers and climbing out of bed. I don’t want him or any part of his dirty body on mine. He doesn’t deserve me.

Elijah sits up, suddenly alert, as I storm toward my dress and bundle the fabric in my arms. I refuse to sit here and be made a fool out of. I refuse to fall for his tricks.

“Becks? What’s going on?”

I spin. “Don’t call me that!”

Elijah visibly recoils, and a look of complete shock takes over his features before he shakes his head and runs a hand through his hair.

“I lay naked in your bed and all you care about are my bruises.” I shouldn’t say that. I don’t want him to know of my insecurity, but the words are out of my mouth before I think better of it.

“What?” Elijah sounds genuinely confused.

“I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised, though. A naked woman is nothing new to you. My breasts are just one in many you’ve seen,” I say.

Elijah’s only been with three women. He told me that himself, but the rational part of my brain seems to be conveniently ignoring that information. Men of his status and wealth typically begin visiting the brothels the second they hit puberty.

If I’m honest with myself, I should probably consider myself lucky his number is so low.

Still, I’d rather he have a higher number if it meant there was no overlap. It’s the overlap that hurts.

“What are you talking about? Of course I’m more interested in seeing your bruises than your breasts, Rebecca. I refuse to apologize for that!” he spits, shoving back his covers and climbing out of bed. “I care for you, and, unfortunately, that means I don’t have much interest in sitting around oogling you when you’re injured.”

Elijah snatches my wet dress out of my arms before storming into his closet.

“If you’re looking for a man to treat you as nothing more than a piece of meat, you’re not going to find that with me.” He returns with a woman’s nightdress.

I open my mouth, prepared to be angry about his offering me some other woman’s clothing, before shutting it when I realize it’s mine. Did he steal this from my room?

“Get dressed. I said I intend to dote on you, and I mean that. I’ll go downstairs and inform the maids I want breakfast brought to our room,” he says.

Our room? I laugh and slide the nightgown over my head. My muscles relax once I’m hidden under the fabric and no longer exposed to the frigid morning air.

“I have no intentions of living in a space my husband shared with his mistresses,” I snap.

Elijah smashes his jaw.

“Very well.”

He enters his closet and roughly throws on some clothes. I’m faintly aware I’m being unreasonable, but I can’t stop. Everything he says and does makes me angry, and the jealousy that flares through me only amplifies it.

I hate the feeling of jealousy. It twists my stomach so tightly I fear I might get sick, and with every breath, I’m fighting the urge to cry, scream, and hit. I want to hurt Elijah just as he’s hurt me, even if I know it’s unreasonable.

He’s apologized for it, and I believe him when he says he regrets his actions. That doesn’t make the sting hurt any less, though, and sometimes I fear it will never lessen.

“Come on,” Elijah says, gesturing to the door.

Is he kicking me out? I purse my lips, hurt, before lifting my chin and storming out of the room. I don’t need him. Elijah escorts me to my bedroom, his movements silent and tense, before pulling open my door and gesturing for me to enter.

My eyes fill with tears, but I refuse to let them fall as I enter my room and slam the door shut behind me. Screw him. This is for the best. I don’t want his affection, anyway. Louise will be here shortly to wake me up, and I’ll pretend my night with Elijah didn’t happen.

I’ll go back to ignoring him as I’m so good at doing.

I pull back my sheets and crawl into bed. I don’t need love. I will continue saving my money and the second I have enough, I’m out of here. I’ll tell nobody where I’m going and live the rest of my life peacefully.

I’ll say I’m a widower and buy myself a lonely cottage on the edge of a medium-sized city. I’ll purchase goats and cows and become entirely self-sufficient. Maybe someday I’ll find a man to spend my ways with, but I’m not counting on that.

My cheeks grow wet, and I angrily wipe them before burring further under my covers. Elijah and I had such a good night last night. He was a perfect gentleman, and I had so much fun dancing and showing him around my home.

It filled me with hope. Stupid hope.

My bedroom door creaks open, and I remain still and listen to Louise step inside and shut the door behind her. She’s a bit early. Maybe Elijah fetched her for me.

My sheets are pulled back, and I prepare to complain and argue that I wish to remain in bed when I feel the mattress dip and a body curl around mine. Immediately I realize my misjudgment. It was not Louise who entered my room, but Elijah.

“Breakfast will be brought up shortly, and my belongings will be moved in here later this evening,” he says.

It takes me a few seconds to process what he’s just said.

“You’re moving into my room?” I ask.

Elijah kisses the back of my head before sliding his arm around my stomach and pulling me back against his chest.

“If you don’t want to sleep in my room, then neither do I,” he says. I hate the way I relax against him. “I’m not going to let you get scared and push me away. I’m here, Rebecca. I care for you, and I’m willing to do whatever it takes to prove that.”

He runs his hand down my arm.

“Even if you fight me tooth and nail,” he adds as an afterthought.

My lips twitch. I like when he says he cares for me. I like when he fights for me.

“I’m not fighting you,” I lie.

Elijah chuckles and urges me to roll over and face him. I hesitate for a quick second before doing so. I remain under the covers where it’s safe, but Elijah pulls them down and forces me into the light. I hate him for it.

His smile is soft, and I look away when it makes my heart pull. My anger is dissipating, but embarrassment is quickly flooding in to take its place. This was supposed to be a lovely morning, and I ruined it with jealousy.

All he wanted to do was check on my bruises.

I’d do the same thing if I were in his position. If he were injured on his thigh, I doubt I would linger long on his exposed penis.

Fuck.

“Do they hurt?” he asks.

“My bruises?”

Elijah runs his thumb down the bridge of my nose before cupping my cheek. The touch is intimate, and I’m not sure how to react.

“Yes, your bruises.”

“Not really,” I lie. He’s distraught over them, and I don’t intend to exasperate his worries. “They look worse than they feel.”

I can tell he doesn’t believe me as he pulls the bed covers down to my waist. My arms and chest pebble where the skin is exposed to the cool morning air, and I find myself holding my breath as Elijah finds the bottom of my nightgown and pulls it up.

His eyes remain on mine the entire time, and when it reaches my hips, I lift slightly so he can slide it higher. My heart is pounding, but I make no attempts to stop him as he finds bundles up the fabric just below my breasts.

The entirety of my abdomen is exposed, and Elijah leans in and gives my cheek a soft kiss before finally diverting his attention to the bruises.

I’m sure he didn’t get a good look at them last night, and he sits up to better see. I’ve had these bruises dozens of times already and don’t need to glance down to know what they look like.

“Becks,” Elijah whispers, his voice thick.

He crawls down my body until he’s at eye level with my ribs. His breath hits my skin with every exhale, the sensation oddly arousing. Now’s not the time for this, but I can’t seem to stop my arousal from pooling in my abdomen anyway.

Elijah traces the outline of each bruise, and I am about to combust when he follows that up with a small kiss to every one.

The bruises are relatively tiny, even if they’re dark, and could probably be mistaken for fingerprints of somebody grabbing me too hard. It’s the damn ribbing that digs into me and causes them. I’m sure there are more expensive corsets out there that would prevent the pain, but I don’t have the coin to buy one, and I’ll be damned if I ask Elijah to purchase them for me.

He’d probably do it, but it’d be humiliating.

Elijah slides his hands to my hips as he finishes touching his lips to each of the bruises.

I pray he can’t hear how deep my breathing’s grown, but I realize I’m not quite that lucky as he releases a breathy laugh against my skin before glancing up at me. His eyes are full of promise, and mischief, as he trails his lips down my stomach.

“Do you want to feel my mouth on you again?” he asks.

He grabs my thighs and spreads them so he has room to lie between them. He was kneeling on the floor the last time we did this, and there’s something about us both being in bed that makes it feel more intimate.

I shift and let out a quiet gasp as he turns and kisses my inner thigh.

It’s so close to where I want it.

“I want to make you feel good,” he continues, sliding his hands up my legs. “I want to make my wife cum.”

I’m not wearing underwear, and when he pushes my thighs even further apart and brings his mouth only inches from my sex, I’m all too aware that he’s seeing everything I have to offer. He uses his thumbs to spread my lower lips, and my thighs tense as he leans in and licks up my slit.

He moans, and I do the same when he licks me again with more pressure.

He feels so good, and I fist my sheets as he works a finger into me and settles on a rhythm with his tongue that makes my toes curl.

The sharp knock on the door feels like a bucket of ice thrown on my head, and I resist the urge to cry as I turn and peer at it. The maids must be here with our food.

Elijah removes his mouth from me. “Wait!” he yells.

“I’m not embarrassed for anybody to know I pleasure my wife,” he says, shutting down my inevitable argument.

Elijah climbs up my body and continues to work me with his hand. The pad of his thumb takes over what his tongue was doing, and I arch my back with a low cry as he slips in another finger and my orgasm builds. I’m so close.

“That’s right, baby. Fucking cum for me,” he moans.

I clench my jaw and throw my head back. My thighs begin to shake around his hand, and after only a few more seconds I’m tipping over the edge with a low moan. Elijah fingers me through it, his motions steady until I fall limp against my mattress.

“That is the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.” Elijah slides down my torso until his mouth is only sex once more.

He licks up all the wetness I’ve created, tasting and cleaning me before returning to my bruises.

I hold my breath as he kisses each one as he did before.

“I can’t apologize enough, Becks,” he admits.

I shrug. The bruises will be gone in a few days. It’s not that big of a deal.

Once Elijah reaches the last bruise I expect him to lay next to me and call in the maids, but instead he lifts my nightgown above my breasts and stares down at my chest. His throat bobs as he looks over them, his attention lingering on my nipples before he bends and sucks each one into his mouth.

I curl my fingers into his hair and pull him away before the ache between my thighs grows. Already I can feel the familiar tingles of arousal, and I fear Elijah will bring his mouth to my sex again if he sees it.

He seems pretty adamant about making me cum. Most of my married friends share that their husbands are not interested in their pleasure. They care about it, yes, but they don’t go out of their way to provide it.

I’m not sure how to feel about Elijah’s interest just yet.

“I never want you to think that your body is ‘just one in many I’ve seen’. You take my breath away, Becks, and when I see you naked like this….” Elijah pulls back and pointedly looks down at me.

The front of his pants is tented, the bulge impossible not to notice. He ignores it, paying himself no mind as he remains focused on me.

“Let’s get some food in you, yeah?” he asks, pulling my nightgown back down my body.

He ensures I’m fully covered before turning and sitting to my right. His hair is wild and his cheeks are flushed from our earlier touch, and I take great pleasure in the way he makes no attempts to clean himself up.

The maids will take one look at us and know something intimate was happening in this bed.

“Come in!” he shouts.

The door is pushed open and three maids make their way inside. They don’t do a perfect job hiding their shock as they take in our positions in bed, and I can’t help but smile as Elijah wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me into his side.

He kisses my temple as they set the trays on the bed, his lips lingering as they look to him for further instruction.

“That’ll be all,” he says, his mouth still pressed against me.

They nod, their eyes flashing to me before they turn in my direction and dip their chins. A second later they’re gone, and a second after that, my stomach grumbles so loud Elijah releases me and breaks out into laughter.

Chapter 35

My shoulders shake as I hold back my laughter, but I can tell Elijah still notices it by how he huffs and drops the laces.

He’s the one who insisted on tying my corset this morning, and I can’t help but find his inability to do it quite funny. He was so confident, but it seems he’s more skilled with untying one than he is with lacing it back up.

“I’m glad you’re finding so much humor in this,” he says, pulling on the ends.

I shrug, not bothering to deny it.

“You should’ve just let Louise come in and help me get ready,” I say.

Elijah continues adjusting the laces until they pull the entire length of the corset evenly. It’s looser than I’ve ever worn it before, but I don’t have the energy to fight him on it.

I’m still stuffed from breakfast, and I worry I’d explode if I apply too much pressure to my stomach.

Besides, it’s not like I’m leaving the estate today. I’ll ensure to have it appropriately tied whenever I need to go. Elijah won’t be happy about it, but he’ll learn to live with it. He doesn’t get to control what I do and do not wear.

I’m glad I convinced him to let me put one on in the first place. I thought he was going to burst an artery he was so upset when I got out of bed and began to get dressed. I’d never tell him this, but I kind of like his concern.

Elijah ties a knot at the bottom of the corset and tucks the loose strings out of sight.

“Okay, how’s it feel?” he asks, stepping back.

I wiggle my torso.

“Like it’s unproperly tied,” I quip.

Elijah snorts. “Good.”

“Maybe for you.”

I spin around and approach my bedroom mirror. Elijah follows, the man practically my shadow today, and watches over my shoulder as I frown and readjust my corset. My breasts don’t look nearly as good as they usually do, the lack of support and pressure making them hang lower than what I’m used to.

I’m not a fan.

Elijah rests his chin on my head as I try to scoop them up, his lips curling into a tiny smile before he forces them back into their resting position.

“Compromise, baby. It’s a compromise,” he whispers, pressing a chaste kiss to the side of my head. “We’ll tie it tighter once your bruises are gone.”

I don’t care to hear it, and I turn away and step into my closet to pick out today’s outfit. Louise usually helps with this, but I can’t lie and say I don’t enjoy the creative freedom as I look through all my things and grab the light blue number she always complains about.

She says the color washes me out, but I don’t care. I like the fit, and I think it makes me look pretty.

Elijah makes himself busy while I get dressed. He sits on the edge of my bed looking around my room, and he points out something he wishes to change every once in a while.

I don’t have much attachment to my space, so I find it easy to agree to the few changes he wishes to make.

I still can’t believe he intends to move in here. I fully expected him to grow angry and call me unreasonable when I said I didn’t want to live in a space where he brought his mistress, and not in a million years did I think this would be the outcome.

I’m still undecided on how I feel about it.

Sleeping with him last night was admittedly lovely. Elijah is warm and his skin is soft, two things I found I enjoyed. I also liked how he clung to me, not that I’d ever tell him that.

“When are your things being moved in here?” I ask.

Elijah visibly perks up at my question, and he stands from my bed and approaches with a soft smile. I don’t know what to make of it, nor do I trust it, and I narrow my eyes as he takes my dress from my hands and helps slide it over my head.

“I didn’t push them to give me a time, but it will be done today. Why? Eager to officially call this room ours?” he teases.

I’m going to kill him.

“No.” I spin and hunt for a pair of gloves.

Things with Elijah are better, but a small part of me is still not ready to touch him. I can feel my resolve weakening, but I’m petty and know how to hold a grudge. Elijah voices no complaint as I slip them on, and he busies himself buttoning the back of my dress while I fiddle with the frills at the wrist.

Once he’s finished, he grabs my hair and pushes it aside. His lips meet my neck a second later, and I suck in a shaky breath as he kisses the sensitive skin.

“I’m so sorry, Rebecca, and I can’t tell you that enough. You’re an amazing woman, and I’m embarrassed by how long it took me to see that,” he whispers.

I gasp, not having expected the unprompted apology, before spinning and throwing my arms around his neck. Elijah looks mildly surprised as I lean in and kiss him. He’s quick to return it, and I even let him slip his tongue between my teeth for a brief second before I pull away.

“No, baby,” he whines, following me.

I hate the childish giggle that slips from my lips as he wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me close. It makes me sound like a damn lovesick fool, and I refuse to be that person.

Still, every time he calls me baby, a tiny corner of my heart flutters. I like the pet name and how his voice gets low and soft when he says it.

Elijah brings his lips to mine again, and I can’t help but sink into the kiss.

It takes many minutes for me to work up the courage to pull away, and when I do, I’m breathless and flustered. Elijah doesn’t seem much better than me, and I can feel his erection pressing against my hip with each movement.

I’ve still never truly touched him, at least not without layers of fabric between us, and I can’t help but wonder how it would feel. The toy he purchased me was cold and hard.

I clear my throat as I step out of his arms and fix my hair.

Elijah smirks, clearly proud of how he messed it up in the first place.

“I expect you’ll take it upon yourself to discretely transfer the toy here,” I say.

I’d die if somebody else stumbled upon it while moving his things into my room.

“Of course.” Elijah reaches down and adjusts himself.

My eyes follow his every movement, and I watch with complete enchantment as he tucks his length up and to the side. It sits near the waistband of his pants, and after a moment’s hesitation, I reach forward and hook my finger into the waist of his pants and underwear.

I want to see it.

Elijah remains still as I pull his pants away from his waist, creating a gap large enough that I can look down and see the tip of him. It’s wide, just like the toy, and the end seems slightly damp. I wish to touch it but resist the urge and stick to looking.

“Mine,” I decide.

“Fuck,” Elijah whispers, his voice thick. “Yours.”

I dip my chin, acknowledging his words, before releasing him and stepping away.

The tension between us is thick, and I need to get out of the room before I do something I regret. Elijah’s been making a pointed effort not to push things between us, but I’m sure it’s only a matter of time before things progress.

I’m not against having sex with him, even if the thought is terrifying, and a small part of me looks forward to learning how it will feel.

I just don’t want to be the one to ask for it first.

Elijah follows me downstairs, his hand pressed firmly against my lower back. We get a few shocked second glances from some of the help we pass, and for once, I don’t feel the urge to curl my back and make myself smaller.

It feels good walking through the house with Elijah.

Besides, I’m sure word has already spread about our private breakfast and his decision to move into my bedroom. It’s been a good two hours since he made the requests, and it doesn’t take long for news to spread here.

I have nothing planned for today, and I aimlessly make my way to my piano. Louise is nowhere to be found, the woman probably purposefully remaining hidden so I can’t use her as a distraction to take me away from Elijah.

I’m getting the feeling that she wants me to forgive him, even if she’d never outright say it.

Elijah makes himself comfortable in the lounge chair as I sit at the piano bench and search for the music I wish to play. He doesn’t ask if sitting in and listening is okay, but I don’t tell him to leave.

It seems I don’t mind when he eavesdrops on my playing.

He’s already admitted he’s been doing it for a while. The only difference is he’s no longer making any attempts to hide it.

I must admit I would’ve liked to have seen him sneaking around trying to get closer to the piano.

Eventually I settle on an upbeat song, and I practically bounce in my chair as I make my way through it. Playing has always been relaxing, and my anxiety lessens the longer I go at it.

I wish I could see five years into the future and know how things will turn out between Elijah and me. I want to give in and accept my life with him, but a small part of me fears that it’s a bad decision that will only lead to my heartbreak.

My only other option is to see through my plan to collect money and run away, but I’d be a fool not to acknowledge the risk. It’s only worth it when my life here is horrible, but lately, it hasn’t felt so bad.

I’ve been enjoying my time with Elijah.

My family is nearby, I’ve grown a close friendship with Louise, and Elijah is being a decent man. These would all be tricky things to leave behind.

The song ends, and I peek at Elijah through my lashes. He’s already looking at me, his stare intense. How long has he been watching me like this? Butterflies erupt in my stomach, but I force them away before they make me say or do anything crazy.

“Would you like me to teach you a song?” I blurt out instead.

Elijah’s eyes go comically wide. He licks his lips and glances around, seemingly debating my offer, before he dips his chin and stands. I love how he looks mildly nervous, and I can barely contain my excitement as I scootch to the side to make room for him on the piano bench.

“Have you ever played before?” I ask.

Elijah shakes his head. “No.”

Good. That means he has no bad habits I need to fix.

A small part of me debates teasing him for his lack of knowledge, but instead I find myself taking the time to genuinely teach him all the essential basics. Elijah listens carefully to everything I say, and those damned butterflies find their way into my stomach once more when he tentatively places his hands on the keys and lets me put my gloved ones on top.

I guide him through a few notes before teaching him the tune of an easy children’s song.

It’s upbeat, and I laugh when he finally memorizes where to go and learns how to play it. It’s only a few lines that get repeated at a slightly faster pace each time, and I cover my mouth to hide my smile as Elijah bounces and plays it through.

He finishes with a dramatic bow, and I’m scooped into his arms a second later.

I’m only faintly aware that we’re in a public space and anybody could walk in on us as he brings his lips to mine and captures them in a deep kiss. It feels good, and I find myself returning it with just as much excitement.

I don’t know what’s gotten into him today, or me for that matter, but I’m not complaining. This is fun.

Elijah kisses me until I’m breathless, and I’m actually glad my corset is tied loosely when he pulls away and I struggle to catch my breath and compose myself.

“I should get to work now,” he says, frowning as he releases me.

That’s probably for the best. Things are getting too intimate and relaxed between us. Some space will be good.

“Join me for dinner?” Elijah grabs my gloved hand and presses a kiss to the top of it.

It’s a formal action, and I feel my cheeks turn impossibly red when he follows it up with a polite bow. Why’s he always trying to embarrass me? The bow is something men do when they’re courting, not when they’re already married.

Still, despite thinking that, I find myself giving a courtesy in response.

I suppose it won’t kill me to play along.

“Dinner?” Elijah repeats.

“Very well.”

Elijah cocks his head to the side, his smile falling as he hears my unexcited response, but it returns tenfold when he realizes I’m only joking. He ducks and kisses my cheek before disappearing through the doors leading into the main hallway.

I slump in my seat and watch him disappear.

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There's about 10 chapters left in this story!