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He ached to ease her pain by urging that they return to reclaim her son, but at the moment, he had no reasonable answers to the objections she’d raised to simply stealing him away. By dint of skilful gaming and even more skilful investing, he was no longer the penniless orphan who, at Eton, had taunted the boys into gaming with him to earn a few pence to buy meat pies. But the property and modest wealth he’d thus far accumulated was no match for the resources of a comtesse, even if he could persuade Elodie to accept some.
As for influence, his only elevated connection was his uncle. Not only was the earl highly unlikely to embrace any cause supported by his black-sheep illegitimate nephew, he might well forfeit even the loyalty of his Ransleigh Rogue cousins if, after pledging to restore Max’s reputation, he appeared instead to champion the woman who’d ruined it.
He wouldn’t suggest they do anything, raise her hopes to no purpose, until he could consider the matter more carefully and come up with a better plan.
An inn north of Paris it must be, Will decided.
After a quick exchange of cart and contents for horses, Will had got a listless Elodie mounted. For the rest of the day, they had ridden north at a pace he thought easy enough for her to tolerate. Just before dark, they stopped at a village along the coaching road, where Will located a suitable establishment and engaged a room.
For the whole of their journey there, Elodie had neither looked directly at him nor spoken, seemingly lost in an abyss of despair and fatigue too profound for anything to penetrate.
Gently he led her to the room and helped her to the bed. ‘Sleep. I’m going to arrange our horses for tomorrow and get some food. I’ll be back with your dinner very soon. Men’s clothing, too, perhaps, for this last leg of our journey?’
But even that mild jest produced no response. Sighing, Will stripped her down to her chemise and guided her back against the pillows. She was still staring blankly into space when he closed the door.
Darkness had fallen by the time he returned. As he quietly lit a candle, he noted Elodie dozing in the same position in which he’d left her, head thrown back against the pillows like a broken doll, her face pale and her hands limp beside her.
Will considered setting out food and wine and leaving her in solitude with her grief. The last thing he wanted was to witness her pain and be dragged into remembering the anguish of his own youth. Yet, aching for her, he realised he couldn’t leave her so alone and vulnerable, even if it meant fending off memories he had no wish to revisit.
Dragging a chair beside the bed, Will settled himself to watch over her.
Suddenly, she shuddered and cried out. ‘Hush, sweeting,’ he soothed, gathering her in his arms.
Her every muscle tensing, she jerked away before her eyes opened and her hazy gaze fixed on his face. ‘Will,’ she murmured. Going limp again in his arms, she slumped back.
He plumped up the pillows and eased her up to a sitting position. ‘I’ve brought food and drink,’ he said, going over to fetch the supplies from his saddlebag. ‘You must eat. It’s after dark and you’ve had nothing but a little wine since before dawn.’
She didn’t reply, but when he put the cup to her lips she sipped. After asking how she felt and what she wanted—and receiving no answers—he lapsed into silently feeding her bits of cheese and bread, which she ate mechanically, without seeming aware of him or the nourishment she was consuming.
When she would take no more, Will finished the wine and bread. As he was returning the remaining meat and cheese to the saddlebags, Elodie wrapped her arms around her torso and began rocking back and forth.
Tears welled up in her eyes and, a few moments later, she was weeping in earnest. Tossing down the saddlebags, Will climbed into the bed, gathered her into his arms and held her as deep, racking sobs shuddered through her body.
He cradled her against his chest as she wept out her grief, wishing there was some way he could ease that terrible burden. Finally the sobs grew shallower, slowed, stopped, then she fell asleep in his arms.
He must have dozed, too, for when he woke some time later, the candle had burned out. Too weary himself to light another, he slid far enough away from Elodie to divest himself of his clothing, then rolled back into the bed’s inviting warmth.
Gathering her against him, he found her lips in the darkness and kissed her tenderly. ‘Sleep, my darling. We’ve a long journey tomorrow.’
To his surprise, she reached up, pulled his head down and kissed him back.
This was no gentle caress, but a demanding capture of lips, followed by a sweep of her tongue into his mouth that banished grogginess and instantly turned simmering desire into boiling need.
While her tongue probed and demanded, her hands moved up and down his hardness. Still caressing him with one hand, she urged him on to his back and, breaking the kiss, in one swift motion raised her chemise and straddled him, guiding his swollen member to her soft inviting heat.
‘Love me, Will,’ her urgent voice pleaded in the darkness.
This was anguish seeking the oblivion of pleasure, he knew. But if pleasuring her would keep the pain at bay, he was happy to assist. Grasping her bottom, he thrust hard, sheathing himself in tight, seductive heat.
He would have stilled then, slowed, made it last, but Elodie was having none of it.
Pulling his thumbs to her nipples, she angled her hips and moved to take him deeper still. With him buried within her, she thrust again and again, riding him faster, harder, deeper, her nails scoring his shoulders, her teeth nipping his skin, until she cried out as her pleasure crested.
An instant later, he reached his own release. Wrapping her in his arms, still joined, Will rolled with her to his side and snuggled her there as together, sated, they fell into the boneless sleep of exhaustion.
Chapter Sixteen
Will woke just after dawn the following morning. At the feel of Elodie beside him, her head nestled on his shoulder, a glow of joy and well-being suffused him. The warmth lingered even after his groggy brain, lagging behind his senses, grew alert enough to remember how despondent and grief-stricken she’d been the previous night.
She’d also come alive in his arms, allowing him to sweep her away for a time from the anguish and sorrow. That had to count for something.
As long as her son was alive and well, there was hope. If whoever had been watching Elodie wanted to harm the boy, they could have done so long since, so there was every reason to expect he would continue to be healthy and content, living with the comtesse. Eventually, Will would figure out a way to reclaim him that would place no hardship on the boy. For now, he must get Elodie, who might still be in danger, safely back to England.
She stirred and he kissed her lips, his joy multiplying when she murmured and wrapped her arms around his neck to kiss him back. Desire surged as she fit herself against him and, for a time, the problems awaiting them outside their bedchamber receded as he made love to her, long and sweet and slow.
Eventually, they could avoid them no longer. ‘You wanted to leave early for the coast?’ Elodie said, sitting up. ‘It’s long past dawn now. I’d better dress.’
‘You’re sure you don’t want to return to Paris and try again to take your son?’
Her jaw clenched and she closed her eyes briefly, as if reeling from a blow. ‘He doesn’t even recognise me, Will,’ she said softly when she reopened them. ‘Even if he did—what was I thinking? I have a few paltry jewels I could sell, enough, perhaps, to buy a small cottage somewhere in the country. But beyond that, I have no money, no family, no resources. Nothing to fall back on, nothing put away to pay for schooling or to assure his future. If Maurice were still alive … but he’s not, and there’s no one else. Besides, who’s to say what will happen after we get to England? How could I drag him into that? No, we should just leave today, as you wished.’
Much as it pained him to see the bleak look back in her eyes, empty platitudes wouldn’t comfort her. Until he formulated some intelligent plan that offered real hope, it was better to say nothing.
Apparently taking silence for agreement, she slipped from the bed and picked up her scattered garments. ‘So I travel as a woman this time? Or have you yet another disguise in that bag?’
Trying not to be distracted by the arousing vista of Elodie, naked but for the bundle of clothing she held, he forced himself to concentrate on the imperative of getting them quickly to the Channel and on to England, before Talleyrand or whoever else had been following them discovered their current location. Realising now what her objective in Paris had been, any French agent worth his pay must know her story and would have kept the comtesse’s house under surveillance. So their pursuers must know they’d made it back to Paris.
‘I’m afraid the bag of tricks is rather empty and the funds are running low. We’ll travel as we are for now and, as you suggest, go at once.’
Giving him a wan smile—so pale an imitation of the brilliant ones that had warmed his heart during their journey that his chest ached—she dressed quickly. He did the same, then assembled their bags and walked down to pay the landlord. After retrieving their newly hired horses from the stables, with Elodie waiting listlessly beside him, Will fastened their bags on to the saddles.
