Page 85 of Unbound Duchess

Madalene’s slap across his face rang throughout the bare space of the country road, echoing beyond it and into the trees.

“For my sister,” she seethed.

A red handprint was starting to form on Benedict’s face as he slowly turned his head back to her; the fight in his spirit had suddenly gone. He was led into the carriage without further incident, and it was Solomon who wrapped an arm around Madalene and whispered soft words of comfort to her. She did not fight him as he led her to the horse that Solomon had freed from Benedict’s carriage.

“I will take her back to the stables and bring your carriage,” Solomon said as he helped Madalene mount the horse.

Laurence only gave a curt nod as Solomon then mounted the horse himself, sitting behind Madalene.

“You knew?” Ellen asked when the world grew quiet again.

Laurence waited, watching as Madalene and Solomon rode off, and the constable’s barred carriage made its way toward London.

“It was just a few days ago,” he finally answered, turning to her. “I swear, Ellen, I was going to tell you.”

The hurt lingered in her eyes a little longer, then she bowed her head and closed her eyes.

“Always trying to protect me,” she whispered.

Relief poured through him, and he gently drew her into another embrace.

“Let us get you home,” he gently urged as he held her close. “You deserve a bath and a long rest. Then, I think we should talk.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

“The water is perfect,” Laurence said. He lifted his fingers from the bath and flicked them, sending little droplets sprinkling over the steaming surface of the water.

Ellen said nothing as she stood near the doorway, her hands clutched tightly around her upper arms. She had thought once Benedict was arrested she would feel some sort of relief, but now that she knew what had happened to her father, such an emotion seemed out of reach.

She wanted to rush into Laurence’s arms again. Wanted to bury her head in his chest and cry and take comfort in him. She couldn’t, though. Not if he was going to send her away.

“How badly do you hurt?” Laurence asked gently when she did not move.

Ellen took a moment, letting herself sink fully into her body for the first time since she’d fought Benedict under the bushes. She’d managed to block some of the soreness out, but as she lowered that mental barrier, it all came flooding back to every part of her body. Her lips parted as she let out a sudden, sharp inhale of agony, and in the span of a second, Laurence had gone from standing by the tub to right before her.

“Your head?” he asked, using that same gentle tone as his fingers hovered above the light bruise on her temple.

She nodded, too exhausted to pretend.

“Where else?” he asked, his worry-filled eyes searching her face, then her body.

“My arms,” she confessed, still clutching them tightly. “He grabbed them quite a bit. And my neck. He…he shook me rather violently in the carriage.”

Anger flickered in Laurence’s gaze as the muscle in his jaw feathered, but when he spoke again, his voice still held that same gentle tone.

“Let me see. Let me…let me help you,” he implored, carefully closing his fingers around hers.

Ellen remained tense for another moment, but as she felt his fingers softly trying to pry her own away from her arms, she loosened them and allowed him to lower her arms to her sides.

He reached for the ties of her dress next, pulling them and her corset away with such gentleness that it almost made her cry. Laurence’s gaze dropped to her full, bare figure for just a moment, hunger blazing anew in his eyes—but only for a moment. When his eyes found the bruises on her upper arms, they went flat with rage, and again, that muscle in his jaw feathered as he gritted his teeth in frustration.

Ellen was vaguely aware that she should feel shame for being so exposed to a man who did not intend to stay married to her, but it wasn’t shame that slithered into her veins and made her womb grow hot and tight.

He raised his hands to her arms, skimming his fingertips lightly over the ring of bruises on each, but froze when she flinched.

“Sore?” he asked, the ache making his voice grow husky and deep.

Ellen could only nod as a blush of desire bloomed in her cheeks.