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She sighed soundly as she bent her head, touching her forehead to his chest in an exasperated gesture. “Goodness Gracious!” She exclaimed, lifting her head again. “All you have to do is keep away from me!”
He looked at her, brows pleated. “As if it was only you in that gallery!” He relaxed a little. “People will remember me too!”
“Sod Charles!” Her head fell back on his hair sprinkled chest.
“I went after him. He’s nowhere to be found.”
She eyed him quizzically. “You did?”
“Yes, the week you left London.”
“Oh!”
“He seems to have vanished in thin air!”
“He must be in some gambling den. I wouldn’t be too worried.”
“Possibly.” He said pensively.
Soon they fell in a fitting sleep until the first lights of dawn filtered through the curtains.
They spent the next days riding in the meadows, going for long walks along the seashore and in scorching nights. Selene didn’t want this to end. For the first time in her life, she envisioned what she’d really missed on. Companionship, daily contentment, desire. If she didn’t count the scandal and the fact that Philip would never love her, she could say she felt happy. This would not last though. She knew it and, this time, she was prepared for it. Their…story had been much more than she’d expected. She solely hoped that, when they parted for good, she’d be able to cope with his absence.
“Come stay in the manor with me.” She heard Philip say, as they watched the restless sea break against the rocks.
She shook her head, eyes on the sea. “London would hear of us living together there.”
“The hypocrites may talk as much as they want.” The rush of the waves almost swallowed his voice.
“You know it doesn’t work this way.” The wind played with her hair, sending strands across her face.
“Yes, it does!” He put a strand of her fluttering hair behind her ear. “As a duke I can afford some privileges.”
“You have Parliament to attend, you know.” Some drops of cold rain fell on her cheeks. Negotiating this…separation diplomatically proved fruitless. She’d need a more blunt approach.
“I can ride to Brighton for the weekends.” He placed a hand on her cheek, his thumb caressing her lower lip, moistened with raindrops. She melted to his touch, which made it difficult to think clearly.
The drops fell fatter and faster. The conversation had to halt as they ran to the cottage. The cool rain cleared her head. Arriving at the siting room she breathed deeply and took courage in her determination. The sitting room deserted as the driver and her lady’s maid performed their duties.
“I’ll remain here and I want you to leave!” Her heart ached tremendously with her own words. It was an impossible situation. The unique solution, stay apart.
His brows pleated anger explicit on his countenance. “You’re not serious!”
She eyes him stonily. “I am dead serious.” Her vivid green eyes confronted the clove ones of his. “Please, depart in the morning, Your Grace.”
He stared at her, realising she meant it. “I may go, but I’ll be back!”
She crossed her arms, defiant. “If you show up here, I’ll travel to the continent and you’ll never find me!” Either she hardened, or this crazy circumstance would go on indefinitely. She needed to give some direction to her life. She needed to permanently keep away from him, from society. A self-preservation strategy filled with sorrow.
He seemed a little startled with the change of her tone. It didn’t matter, he’d get used to the separation.
“Very well.” An icy tone to him. “I will be gone by dawn.” He turned and walked towards the stable.
As soon as he left, she crumbled on a settee, an Arctic cold seeping into her.
That’d be it then. Philip thought. They’d just walk away from each other. After what they’d been through. Pride prevented him from begging, but he felt like his heart turned to a rock. One of those rocks which the sea flogged incessantly. A bleak future waited for him, certainly. So what? He had a title, he had to live by its standards. She had been right. He had to fulfil his duties. He owed this to his uncle, to his lineage.
Late that night, pacing the garden like a chained beast and wanting her like a demented wreck, he gave way to his impulses. He climbed up the stairs and opened the door to her bedroom. She lay in bed. Motionless. Too motionless. Awake. Good! He undressed, removed the coverlet and lay beside her. Delicately, he brought her loose hair away from her neck and kissed it open mouth. Her skin prickled.
