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The hand on the small of her back traveled up her spine while the other arm banded around her and pulled her in. Elizabeth found her fingers in his hair, tangled between the black strands the way their tongues tangled with each other. Her throbbing nipples strained against the fabric of her nightdress and Elizabeth was no longer anxious thinking that he might see. Now, she wanted him to know just how her body was reacting to his touch. She wanted to see how his body was reacting to hers.
His hand slid over her shoulder just as his lips broke away from hers. With his other hand, he brushed her hair out of the way and kissed her gently underneath her ear. Though the kisses were gentle, it spurred on the longing, had her panting in his hold.
Until his lips began to descend. Until his hand brushed at the collar of her gown to reveal more of the skin there. Suddenly, Elizabeth remembered her terrible scars.
Elizabeth jerked out of his hold with such force that she was left breathless. She took a step away from him, panting.
“Beth?” His eyes were shadowed with confusion, and perhaps a twinge of worry. It would have made her happy to see him feeling tender emotions towards her, but she only felt like running.
“I’m sorry.” Her eyes filled with tears and she was certain he could hear it in her voice. She couldn’t think of a single explanation as to why she’d pulled away. She only turned and hurried back down the hallway, wanting to leave him behind before he saw the tears run down her face.
A small part of her wanted him to follow. The larger part was happy that he didn’t, happy that he hadn’t seen the nasty scar that laid on her collarbone. If he had, Elizabeth didn’t know what she would have done with herself.
She didn’t stop until she made it back to her bedchamber and flung herself onto the bed. She curled into the pillows and sobbed, hatred for herself coursing through her.
She hated her scars. She hated how insecure it made her feel. She hated how timid she’d become after letting that insecurity overtake nearly every aspect of her life. She hated the fact that her growth over the past few days no longer mattered.
She hated, above all, that William could not possibly love a lady that was as marred as she. All those thoughts consumed her as she cried herself to sleep.
Chapter 13
The next day, Elizabeth wasn’t sure how she was going to face William. She’d considered simply remaining in her bedchamber, feigning an illness if she had to, but she didn’t want to risk him coming all the way here to see her. She would feel a little better seeing him in a space that was less intimate than a bedroom.
Harold and a few maids had delivered the first of the finished gowns to her that morning and so Elizabeth was no longer dressed in William’s stepmother’s gowns but one made specifically for her. It was a rose-colored morning gown that paired well with a silvery-pink shawl and her white gloves. Elizabeth couldn’t stop herself from fidgeting with the ends of her glove as she made her way to the dining room.
Harold met her at the base of the grand staircase with a bow, holding out a white bonnet. “His Grace would like to see you the gardens, My Lady.”
“The gardens?” Elizabeth echoed with a frown. She took the bonnet from his hands in bemusement.
“Yes.” Harold straightened and gestured with his hand. “If you would follow me.”
Without waiting for a response, he turned and began to lead the way. Elizabeth followed, her curiosity overshadowing her reluctance and embarrassment for brief moments. The overhead sun bore down on everything underneath it with no remorse and Elizabeth was suddenly happy Harold had provided the bonnet. Though, she supposed it was probably William’s doing.
Harold led her down a graveled path, passing between rows of shrubbery lined with perennial flowers, lavender mixed in among them. The light flowery scent drifting in the air served to lift Elizabeth’s spirit somewhat and as they veered down a flagstone path leading up a gentle incline, she took to admiring the beauty of the flora around her.
Soon enough, she spotted him sitting under a gazebo with their breakfast stretched out before him. He looked up at their approach, his green eyes unreadable. Elizabeth’s heart began to race and she tried not to lick her lips again, knowing it was a bad habit.
Harold bowed and quietly slipped away. Elizabeth had no choice but to sit down, avoiding his gaze.
“Good morning, Beth,” William drawled.
“Good morning,” she murmured. She reached for her tea, not daring to look up at him even though she knew he was still watching her.
