Brighter Than The Sun (21 page)

"Are you mad?" he fairly shouted. "I want you so much I'm liable to perish on the spot. So cover yourself up, because otherwise you're going to kill me."

Ellie planted her hands on her hips, growing just a little irritated with the direction of the conversation.

"Watch out for your hands!" he yelled.

"My hands are fine," she snapped.

"They are?"

"As long as I don't run ungloved through a rosebush."

"Are you sure?"

She nodded.

For a split second he didn't move. Then he came at her with a force that knocked the breath clear out of her. One minute Ellie was standing, and the next she was on her back, on the bed, with Charles on
top
of her.

But the most amazing thing was that he was kissing her. Really kissing her, in that deep, dark way he hadn't since before the accident. Oh, he'd written racy things in his lists, but he'd been treating her like a delicate flower. Now he was kissing her with his entire body—with his hands, which had already discovered the side slit of her lingerie and were wrapped around the warm curve of her thigh—with his hips, which pressed intimately against hers—and with his heart, which pounded a seductive beat against her breast.

"Don't stop," Ellie moaned. "Don't ever stop."

"I couldn't if I wanted to," he replied, touching her ear most thoroughly—with his mouth. "And I don't. Want to."

"Oh, good." Her head lolled back, and he immediately moved from her ear to her throat.

"This dress," he groaned, apparently unable to speak in complete sentences. "Don't ever lose it."

She smiled. "You like it?"

He answered by pulling open the bows at her hips. "It should be illegal."

"I can get one in every color," she teased.

His hands grasped her ribcage, his large fingers pressing into the underside of her breasts. "Do it. Send me the bill. Or better yet, I'll pay in advance."

"I paid for this one," Ellie said softly.

Charles held still and lifted his head, sensing something different in her voice. "Why? You know you can use my money to buy whatever you want."

"I know. But this is my birthday gift to you."

"The dress?"

She smiled and touched his cheek. Men could be so obtuse. "The dress. Me." She took his hand and moved it to her heart. "This. I want ours to be a real marriage."

He didn't say anything, just took her face in his hands and gazed rapturously at her for a long moment. Then, with agonizing slowness, he lowered his lips to hers for a kiss more tender than anything she could have ever dreamed. "Ah, Ellie," he sighed against her mouth. "You make me so happy."

It wasn't quite a declaration of love, but it still made her heart sing. "I'm happy, too," she whispered.

"Mmmm." He moved to her neck, nuzzling the length of her throat with his face. His hands slid underneath the silk of her gown, trailing fire along her already hot skin. She felt his touch on her hips, her stomach, her breasts—he seemed to be everywhere, and still she wanted more.

She fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, wanting desperately to feel the heat of his skin. But she was shaking with desire, and her hands were still not as nimble as normal.

"Shhhh, let me," he whispered, lifting himself off her to remove his shirt. He worked the buttons slowly, and Ellie wasn't sure whether she wanted him to go even more slowly, to prolong this tantalizing dance, or whether she wanted him just to rip the damned thing off and move back to her side.

Finally he shrugged off the garment and lowered himself partway back down toward her, leaning on his straightened arms. "Touch me," he ordered, then softened it with an impassioned, "Please."

Ellie reached up hesitantly. She'd never touched a man's chest, never even seen one before. She was a little surprised by the sprinkling of reddish brown hair that played across his skin. It was soft and springy, but it didn't hide the way his skin burned or his muscles leapt beneath her hesitant caress.

She grew more daring, excited and emboldened by the way he sucked in his breath when she reached for him. She didn't even have to touch his skin for him to shudder with desire. She suddenly felt as if she must be the most beautiful woman on earth. At least in his eyes, at least for this moment, and that was all that mattered.

She felt his hands on her, lifting her up, and then the lingerie slid over her head and landed in a pool of silk on the floor. Ellie no longer just felt naked, she
was
naked. Somehow it seemed the most natural thing in the world.

He moved off her and removed his breeches. This time he disrobed quickly, almost frantically. Ellie's eyes widened when she saw his aroused manhood. Charles noticed her apprehension, swallowed, and said, "Are you afraid?"

She shook her head. "Well, maybe a little. But I know you will make everything beautiful."

"Oh, God, Ellie," he groaned, sinking back onto the bed. "I'll try. I promise, I'll try. I've never been with an innocent before."

That made her laugh. "And I've never done this before, so we are even."

He touched her cheek. "You're so brave."

"Not brave, just trusting."

"But to laugh, when I'm about to—"

"That's exactly why I
am
laughing. I'm so happy I can't think of anything but laughter."

He kissed her again, his mouth hot on hers. And while he distracted her in this way, his hand stole down the soft skin of her stomach to the patch of curls that shielded her womanhood. She stiffened for just a moment, then relaxed under his gentle caress. At first, he made no move to touch her more deeply, just tickled her as he moved his mouth along the planes of her face.

"Do you like that?" he whispered.

She nodded.

His other hand moved to her breast, squeezing its fullness before grazing the aroused nipple with his palm. "Do you like that?" he whispered, his voice growing husky.

She nodded again, this time with her eyes squeezed shut.

"Do you want me to do it again?"

And while she nodded for the third time, he moved one finger into the hot folds of her womanhood and began to stroke.

Ellie gasped, then forgot how to breathe. Then when she finally remembered where her lungs were, she let out a loud, "Oh!" that caused Charles to chuckle and slide his finger in deeper, touching her in the most intimate of ways.

"Oh, Lord, Ellie," he groaned. "You want me."

She clutched desperately at his shoulders. "You only just noticed?"

His chuckle came from deep in his throat. His fingers continued their sensual torture, moving and stroking within her, and then he found her most sensitive nub of flesh, and Ellie nearly burst from the bed.

"Don't fight it," he said, pressing his arousal against her belly. "It only gets better."

"Are you sure?"

He nodded. "Positive."

Her legs went slack again, and this time Charles nudged them further open, settling into the space between her thighs. He moved his hand, and then his manhood touched her, softly probing at her entry.

"That's right," he whispered. "Open for me. Relax." He pushed forward, then stopped for a moment. "How is that?" he asked, but his voice was strained, and Ellie could tell that he was exerting extraordinary control to keep himself from making love to her completely.

"It's very strange," she admitted. "But good. It's— Oh!" She yelped as he moved even closer to her center. "You tricked me."

"That's what it's all about, sweetling."

"Charles, I—"

His face grew serious. "This might hurt you a little."

"It won't," she assured him. "Not with you."

"Ellie, I... Oh, God, I can't wait any longer." He plunged forward, sheathing himself completely within her. "You feel so ... I can't... Oh, Ellie, Ellie."

Charles's body began to move in its primitive rhythm, each thrust accompanied by sounds that were half-groan, half-breath. She was so perfect, so responsive. He'd never before felt desire with this total, complete urgency. He wanted to cherish her and devour her at the same time. He wanted to kiss her, love her, surround her. He wanted everything from her, and he wanted to
give
her every last piece of himself.

Somewhere in the back of his mind he realized this was love, that elusive emotion he'd managed to escape for so many years. But his ideas and feelings were overwhelmed by the raging need of his body, and he lost all power of thought.

He could hear her moans grow higher in pitch, and he knew that she felt the same desperation and need. "Reach for it, Ellie," he said. "Reach for it."

And then she shattered beneath him, muscles tightening like a velvet glove around him, and Charles let out a loud shout as he plunged forward one last time, releasing himself into her womb.

He shuddered a few times with the aftershocks of climax, then collapsed on top of her, dimly realizing that he was probably too heavy for her, but unable to move. Finally, when he felt as if he might have a little bit of control over his body again, he started to roll off of her.

"Don't," she said. "I like feeling you."

"I'll crush you."

"No, you won't. I want to—"

He rolled to his side, pulling her along with him. "See? Isn't this nice?"

She nodded and closed her eyes, looking weary but well-loved.

Charles played absently with her hair, wondering how this had happened, that he had fallen in love with his wife—a woman he'd chosen so impulsively and so desperately. "Did you know I dream about your hair?" he asked.

She opened her eyes in delighted surprise. "Really?"

"Mmm, yes. I always used to think it was the exact color of the sun at sunset, but now I realize that I'm wrong." He pinched a lock and brought it to his lips. "It's brighter. Brighter than the sun. And so are you."

He gathered her into his arms, and then they slept.

Chapter 19

The next week was pure bliss. Ellie and Charles spent more time in bed than out, and when they did venture downstairs, it seemed as if life was conspiring to send only the good things their way. Ellie had her first dress fitting, Claire finished cleaning the orangery and told Ellie she'd very much like to help in the planting, and Judith painted four more watercolors, one of which actually resembled a horse.

Ellie found out later that the painting was in fact meant to be a tree, but Judith's feelings didn't seem to be hurt.

In fact, the only thing that could have possibly made Ellie's life any more perfect would be if Charles were to fall prostrate at her feet, kiss each and every one of her toes, and declare his undying love for her. But Ellie was trying not to dwell on the fact that he hadn't told her he loved her.

Fair was fair, after all, and she hadn't summoned up the courage to tell him, either.

She was optimistic, though. She could tell that Charles enjoyed her company immensely, and there was no denying that they were extremely compatible in bed. She had only to win his heart, and she spent a lot of time reminding herself that she'd never failed at anything she
really
put her mind to.

And she was really putting her mind to this. She'd even started composing lists of her own, the most active of which was called "How to Make Charles Realize He Loves Me."

When Ellie wasn't dwelling on the fact that her husband hadn't yet told her that he loved her or working hard to ensure that he would, she spent her time poring over the financial pages of the newspaper. For the first time in her life, she had real control over her savings, and she didn't want to make a muck of things.

Charles seemed to be spending most of
his
time plotting ways to drag Ellie back into bed. She never put up more than token resistance, and she only did that because he kept writing up lists to coerce her, and they were always terribly amusing.

He presented her with what she would later declare her favorite one night as she mulled over investments in the study.

FIVE WAYS ELLIE CAN MOVE HERSELF
FROM THE STUDY TO THE BEDROOM

1. Walk quickly

2. Walk very quickly

3. Run

4. Smile sweetly and ask Charles to carry her

5. Hop on one foot

Ellie raised her brows over the last one. Charles shrugged. "I ran out of ideas."

"You realize, of course, that now I will have to hop all the way upstairs."

"I would be happy to carry you."

"No, no, you have clearly thrown down the gauntlet. I have no choice. I must hop or forever lose my honor."

"Mmmm, yes," he said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "I can see how you might feel that way."

"Of course if you see me wobble, you may feel free to steady me on my feet."

"Or on your
foot,
as the case may be."

Ellie tried to nod regally, but the impish smile on her face quite ruined the effect. She stood, hopped to the door, then turned back to her husband and asked, "Is switching feet allowed?"

He shook his head. "It wouldn't be a proper hop."

"Of course," she murmured. "Hmmm. I may need to lean on you from time to time."

He crossed the room and opened the door for her. "I would be delighted to assist you in any way."

"I may need to lean
heavily
from time to time."

His smile hovered halfway between a grin and a leer. "That would be even more delightful."

Ellie hopped down the hall, switched feet when she thought he wasn't looking, then lost her balance when she moved from the runner carpet to the bare floor. She waved her arms wildly in the air, shrieking with laughter as she tried to stay upright. Charles immediately moved to her side and draped her arm over his shoulder. "Is this better?" he asked, his face remarkably straight.

"Oh, much." She hopped forward.

"That's what you get for switching feet."

"I would never do that," she lied.

"Hmph." He shot her a
you-can't-fool-me
expression. "Now be careful turning the corner."

"I would never dream of—Oh!" she yelped as she stumbled into the wall.

"Tsk tsk, that's going to cost you."

"Really?" she asked interestedly. "How much?"

"A kiss. Perhaps two."

"I will only agree if I may give you three."

He sighed. "You drive a hard bargain, my lady."

She stood on one tiptoe and kissed his nose. "There is one."

"I think that only counts for one half."

She kissed his lips, her tongue darting out mischievously to tease the corner of his mouth. "There is two."

"And the third?"

"You wouldn't get a third if I hadn't bargained you up so skillfully," she pointed out.

"Yes, but now I've come to expect it, so it had better be good."

Ellie's mouth spread into a slow smile at that challenge. "Lucky for me," she murmured, "that I've learned so much about kissing in the past week."

"Lucky for
me,"
he returned, grinning as she dragged his mouth down to hers. Her kiss was hot and passionate, and he felt it in every nerve of his body. Mostly he felt it in his midsection, which was tightening into such a knot of desire that he had to tear himself away and gasp, "You had better hop fast."

Ellie laughed, and they one quarter-hopped, one quarter-skipped, one quarter-stumbled, and one quarter-ran down the hall. By the time they reached the staircase, they were laughing so hard that Ellie tripped and landed on the bottom step smack on her backside. "Ouch!" she yelped.

"Is everything all right?"

They both turned sheepish faces to Helen, who was standing with Aunt Cordelia in the great hall, looking at them questioningly. "It looked as if you were limping, Ellie," she said. "Then it looked like ... Well, frankly, I don't know what it looked like."

Ellie turned beet red. "He... ah ... I... ah ..."

Charles didn't even bother trying to explain.

Helen smiled. "I see your point exactly. Come along, Cordelia. I believe our newlyweds desire some privacy."

"Newlyweds, hmph!" Cordelia barked. "They're acting like a couple of deranged birds, if you ask me."

Ellie watched as the old lady marched out of the hall, Helen right on her heels. "Well, at least she isn't yelling 'fire' at every opportunity anymore."

Charles blinked. "You're right. I think our myriad accidents in the kitchen may have scared the fire right out of her."

"Thank goodness."

"Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, depending on your viewpoint, it has not done the same for me."

"I'm afraid I don't see your point."

"What I mean," he fairly growled, "is that I am on fire."

Ellie's eyes and her mouth made three perfect O's.

"So get that little body of yours upstairs and into the bedroom before I ravish you here on the stairs."

She smiled slyly. "You'd do that?"

He leaned forward, suddenly looking every inch the rake he was reputed to be. "I wouldn't issue any dares, my lady, unless you're prepared to face the consequences."

Ellie scrambled to her feet and started to run. Charles followed, grateful that she'd decided to travel on both of her feet.

* * *

Several hours later, Ellie and Charles lounged in bed, propped up against their pillows as they ate the gourmet dinner they'd had delivered to their room. Neither had been in any state to make an appearance downstairs.

"Quail?" Charles asked, holding up a piece.

Ellie ate it right from his fingers. "Mmmm. Delicious."

"Asparagus?"

"I'm going to get dreadfully fat."

"You'd still be delightful." He popped the asparagus tip between her lips.

Ellie chewed and sighed with contentment. "Monsieur Belmont is a genius."

"That's why I hired him. Here, try a bit of this roast duck. I promise you'll adore it."

"No, no, stop I couldn't possibly eat another bite."

"Ah, ye weak of heart," Charles teased, holding up a dish and a spoon. "You can't possibly stop now. I'm trying to make a complete wanton of you. Besides, Monsieur Belmont will throw a tantrum if you do not eat the custard. It's his masterwork."

"I didn't realize chefs had masterworks."

He smiled seductively. "Trust me on this."

"Very well, I concede. I'll try a small bite." Ellie opened her mouth and let Charles spoon in some custard. "Good heaven!" she cried. "That is divine."

"I gather you would like some more."

"If you don't give me another bite of that custard I shall have to kill you."

"Said with a straight face," he said with admiration.

She shot him a sideways glance. "I'm not joking."

"Here, have the entire pot. I hate to come between a woman and her food."

Ellie paused in her quest to devour every last speck of custard to say, "Normally I would take offense at that remark, but I'm in far too sublime a state to do so at this moment."

"I'm loathe to speculate whether this sublime state is due to my masculine prowess and stamina or merely to a pot of custard."

"I won't answer that. I would hate to hurt your feelings."

He rolled his eyes. "You're very kind."

"Please say Monsieur Belmont makes this on a regular basis."

"All the time. It's my favorite."

Ellie paused, spoon frozen in her mouth. "Oh," she said, looking rather guilty. "I suppose I ought to share."

"Pay it no mind. I can eat this strawberry tart." He took a bite. "I say, Monsieur Belmont must be angling for a raise in pay."

"Why do you think?"

"Aren't strawberry tarts your favorite? It's uncharacteristically thoughtful of him to prepare both our favorites."

Ellie's face sank into a serious expression.

"Why suddenly so somber?" Charles asked, licking a bit of strawberry off of his lips.

"I am facing a very serious moral dilemma."

Charles glanced around the room. "I don't see one."

"You had better eat the rest of this custard," Ellie said, handing him the pot, which was about two-thirds empty. "I shall feel guilty for weeks if I don't share."

He grinned. "I knew that marrying the daughter of a vicar would have its benefits."

"I know," she sighed. "I have never been able to ignore anyone in need."

Charles spooned a bite of the custard into his mouth with considerable enthusiasm. "I don't know if this counts as 'need' but I'm willing to pretend it does for your sake."

"The sacrifices one makes for one's wife," she muttered.

"Here, have the rest of the strawberry tart."

"No, I couldn't," she said, holding up a hand. "It seems somehow sacrilegious after the custard."

He shrugged. "Have it your own way."

"Besides, I feel suddenly rather strange."

Charles put the custard down and assessed her. She was blinking quite rapidly, and her skin held a strange pasty quality. "You do look rather odd."

"Oh, dear Lord," Ellie moaned, clutching at her stomach as she curled into a fetal position.

He quickly removed the rest of the dinner plates from the bed. "Ellie? Darling?"

She didn't answer, just whimpered as she tried to pull herself into a tight little ball. Sweat was breaking out on her brow, and her breath was corning in shallow pants.

Charles felt prickly with panic. Ellie, who had been laughing and teasing just moments earlier, now looked as if she were... as if... Dear God, she looked like she were dying.

His heart slammed into his throat, and he raced across the room and yanked hard on the bellpull. Then he ran to the door, threw it open, and bellowed, "Cordelia!" His aunt was more than a trifle batty, but she did know a thing or two about sickness and healing, and Charles didn't know what else to do.

"Ellie," he said urgently, running back to her side. "What is wrong? Please talk to me."

"It's like burning swords," she gasped, her eyes shut tight against the pain. "Burning swords in my belly. Oh, God, Oh God. Make it go away. Please."

Charles swallowed in fear, then put a hand on his own stomach, which was also throbbing. He ascribed it to terror; clearly he was not feeling the same agony his wife was experiencing.

"Ooooooohhhhhh!" she yelled, starting to convulse.

Charles sprang to his feet and ran back to the open door. "Someone get here now!" he shouted, just as Helen and Cordelia came running around the corner.

"What happened?" Helen asked breathlessly.

"It's Ellie. She's sick. I don't know what happened. One minute she was fine, and the next..."

They raced to her bedside. Cordelia took one look at Ellie's pathetic form and announced, "She's been poisoned."

"What?" Helen asked in horror.

"That's ludicrous," Charles said at the same time.

"I've seen this before," Cordelia said. "She's been poisoned. I'm sure of it."

"What can we do?" Helen asked.

"She'll have to be purged. Charles, bring her to the washbasin."

Charles regarded his aunt dubiously. Was he right to trust his wife's welfare to an old woman who was admittedly a touch senile? But then again, he didn't know what else to do, and even if Ellie hadn't been poisoned, Cordelia's suggestion made sense. Clearly they needed to remove whatever was in her stomach.

He picked her up, trying not to let her agonized groans affect him. She twitched violently in his arms, her spasms shaking him to the core.

He looked to Cordelia. "I think she's getting worse."

"Hurry up!"

He hurried to the washbasin and pulled Ellie's hair from her face. "Shhh, darling, it will be all right," he whispered.

Cordelia held up a quill. "Open her mouth."

"What the hell are you going to do with that?"

"Just do what I say."

Charles held Ellie's mouth open and watched in horror as Cordelia thrust the feathered end of the quill down her throat. Ellie gagged several times before she finally vomited.

Charles looked away for a moment. He couldn't help it. "Are we done?"

Cordelia ignored him. "One more time, Eleanor," she said. "You're a strong girl. You can do it. Helen, get something to rinse out her mouth when she's done."