The Accidental Duke (The Mad Matchmaking Men of Waterloo Book 1) by Devlin, Barbara (love letters to the dead .TXT) 📕

It dawned on him, then, that he used the same words to reassure her that she often used to comfort him. With their roles reversed, it fell to him to support her, and never had he felt more a man than in that heartbreaking moment, while his wife trembled in his embrace and relied on him for succor.

“But you were gone.” She fought for breath and clung to him. “You were gone, and I could not find you.”

For a while, he simply held her, and she shivered and wept. Her distress, painfully familiar in its intensity, shredded his heart.

“Darling, you need not seek what sits before you, what resides within you, now and forever.” Shuffling her in his hold, he drew her with him and stood. “Come with me, and let us return to my bed.”

“No.” With an abrupt sniff, she shook her head and tried to push free. “I know you no longer want me there, and I’m fine—really, I am.” Ah, he knew that sharp tone. Not for a minute did he believe her, as she wiped her nose. “I apologize for disturbing you, my lord. If you wish, I can move to a room at the other end of the hall, so I will not interrupt your rest, in the future.”

“Like bloody hell.” In that instant, he realized his mistake in dealing with his bride, and he should have known better. Clutching her wrist, and determined to set things right, he dragged her back to his apartment. “How long have you suffered the night terrors?”

“Since you were taken from me.” Of course, he should have known of her discomfit. Should have recognized the signs, so evident now that he opened his eyes, to see beyond his own angst. In his room, she again tried to wrench loose, but he tightened his grip. “Anthony, this is not necessary. I am quite content in my own accommodation, because I would not impede your recovery. Indeed, in your absence, I have grown quite accustomed to sleeping by myself.”

“Really?” At his four-poster, he led her to sit. After pulling back the covers, he patted the mattress. She nodded and bit her bottom lip. Then shook her head, and he laughed. “Neither have I, now take off that ridiculous nightgown, because you know I prefer you naked.”

“In my defense, I am cold when we do not share a bed.” Without hesitation, she stripped from the fine lawn garment and flung it on the floor. Pouting, she climbed between the sheets. After doffing his robe, which exposed his healthy erection, he joined her, and she nestled at his side. “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too. And tell me, my dear, whatever gave you the impression I no longer want you?” Inching closer, she eased her head to his shoulder, and he speared his fingers in her long brown hair, to massage her scalp. “Why would you ever think such a thing, when my body provides ample evidence to the contrary, even now?”

“Because you close yourself off from me,” she replied, in a small voice, and he exhaled in disgust with himself. “And I am not welcome in your meetings with Dr. Handley, when there was a time when you would not venture to the doctor without me. And you stopped talking to me, when conversation once manifested the sum of our relationship.” He could have kicked himself in the arse, because he hurt his wife. “Indeed, we share nothing but this house since you returned. Yet I cannot be angry with you, given I failed you. Now I must accept what has become of us. It is only right that you are cross with me, when I broke my promise, and I’m sorry, but I tried everything to find you and bring you home.”

“Wait—what?” In shock, he shoved her onto her back and propped on his elbow, so he could look directly into her eyes. What he spied in her tormented gaze ravaged his conscience. “What do you mean? Just how did you fail me, when I am here, as you see, owing to your efforts?”

“My lord, I am confused.” She blinked. “If you are not at odds with me, why do you deny me, when I need you as you once needed me?”

“Oh, my darling, I have neglected you, and that shame is mine to own, but it ends, here and now.” He bent his head and offered an olive branch in a kiss. At once, she opened to him, displaying the characteristic raw hunger for which he adored her. She yanked his hair and mingled her tongue with his. She dug her fingernails into his shoulders. Then she broke. “Shh, sweetheart. This is my fault, and I will make amends, until first light and beyond, if that is what it takes to prove you are still my most desired lady.”

With his knee, he spread her legs, which she immediately wrapped about his hips, and in a flex of his spine, he merged their bodies. To his unutterable delight, she exhaled a shivery breath and wrapped her arms about him, supporting him as he commenced the delicate dance.

It was a deed as old as humanity, yet for him it represented a rebirth.

In the gentle slip and slide, he found unshakeable validation, and Arabella declared her love, twofold. The incomparable connection, irrefutable in its meaning, carried him to new heights of pleasure and reassurance, when she gripped his arse and hastened his rhythm. Thus, he whispered fervent declarations, for her ears only, proclaiming what she did for him and how she brought him alive, when so many conspired to destroy him.

Given their time apart, he gritted his teeth, and completion beckoned. In silence, he vowed to delay until she found release. Just as he thought he could withstand no more, she gave vent to a heartrendingly sweet cry, and he let fly his seed, deep within her.

Some moments later, he floated back to the mortal plane. As usual,