Page 24 of The Forbidden Love of an Officer (The Marlow Family #7)

Ellen looked up as Paul entered their little parlour. Jennifer stood and bobbed a curtsy. His hand lifted, holding up two gilt-edged slips of paper. ‘We are invited to the Richmond ball.’

They had laughed about the lavish event and the battle to obtain invitations a week ago. Those who had remained in the city had not stopped their parties; if anything they entertained themselves even more determinedly and the Duchess of Richmond’s was the ball everyone wanted to attend.

The Duke of Richmond had rented a house in the Rue des Cendres and the ball was to be there.

Ellen set down her sewing. ‘How? Why? I thought you did not want to go – and stand among the gawping falls.’ She mimicked his voice.

‘I did not. I do not. But the lieutenant colonel desires our presence. He insists all his officers attend. At least the Duke and Duchess are holding it for the right reasons, the most annoying tourists will not be invited.’ Paul had told Ellen previously that Lady Richmond was entertaining solely to hearten the soldiers and keep their minds off war for a few hours.

The Duke of Richmond commanded the troops who were to remain in the city and defend Brussels, should Napoleon reach this far.

The ball was to be held in four days, on the 15th of June.

‘So Captain Montgomery will be there too?’

‘And the others. We are to make it appear as though nothing is afoot beyond us enjoying ourselves. Apparently, even the Duke of Wellington wishes it so.’ He dropped the invitations on a side table. ‘You may leave us, Jennifer,’ he said with a smile.

The maid dropped a swift curtsy in both their directions, then left the room, closing the door behind her.

‘And for now, Ellen, I want to enjoy myself…’ Paul said as he walked across the room to her. He leaned down and captured her chin between his finger and thumb, ‘by feeling the flesh of my wife against my flesh.’

‘Do you not want dinner first?’ Ellen smiled as his eyes shone with love and longing for her.

He shook his head, smiling too. ‘I suppose you would rather I was civilised though and let you dine first.’

She held the sides of his scarlet coat. ‘I can wait.’ She would let him do anything he wished for as many days as she had him still – she hoped that would be forever.

The tears which had been threatening to fall all day finally flooded her eyes.

She blinked them away, pushed him back and rose from the chair.

‘I will go and find Jennifer, and ask her to buy supper and bring it here, then we can eat afterwards without rising from the bed.’

Jennifer had gone up to her attic room. Ellen tapped on the door. ‘Jennifer…’

The door opened. ‘Yes, ma’am.’

‘Will you bring us something hot from a local inn for dinner, a pie, perhaps? Oh, and purchase wine too, and of course, something for your own meal.’

‘Yes, ma’am.’

‘Thank you. When you return, please bring it to our bedchamber.’

When she entered the bedchamber, Paul was seated on the bed undressing. Ellen shut the door, leaned back against it, watching him sitting in his pantaloons, bare-chested, as he worked to pull off his boots.

He looked up at her. ‘All I have thought of all day is you, and being back in bed.’

She smiled. It was good to know he thought of her, and now she could help him escape.

She watched the muscles move beneath the skin of his torso.

The hard contours were more defined since he had lost weight from working so hard, but it only made him more beautiful.

Yet he looked so young today. He was young.

Young and too full of life to face death.

‘Take your dress off, Ellen.’

She shook her head, not to say no but to chide him for asking such a thing, yet, smiling, she began unbuttoning it. He watched, leaning back and resting his hands on the bed.

She undressed slowly, then turned her back to him so he might unlace her short corset. The moment it fell away there was a knock on the door.

‘Your dinner, ma’am, Captain,’ Jennifer called, scarcely more than a quarter of an hour after she had left.

‘Thank you, Jennifer. Would you leave it outside the door!’ Ellen turned away from Paul. She wore only her chemise. She listened as Jennifer walked away before opening the door to collect their food. The smell of hot, cooked mutton filled the room as she carried it in.

‘Well, now my stomach is rumbling,’ Paul said, standing up.

They ate at the small table in their bedchamber, facing one another, she only dressed in her chemise, he in his pantaloons.

She had shared many moments with him in the past six months, but none had felt as intimate as this, as he sat shirtless before her, eating hungrily and speaking of his day.

At the end of the meal his hand swept his hair back from his brow and his gaze settled on her.

She got up. ‘Let me rub your shoulders, you look tense.’

‘That would be nice.’

She stood behind him and her fingertips and thumbs pressed into the tightly bunched muscles across his shoulders and lower neck. ‘Relax.’

He leaned his head back against her bosom, his breathing slowing as he shut his eyes. She kneaded his flesh as he had done for her on days when they had travelled for relentless hours, during their journey to Brussels. It took a few minutes, but the muscles beneath her fingers softened.

‘I love you,’ she said to the air above his head.

‘And I you,’ he answered, his eyes opening and looking up at her. She smiled. She had never been in doubt of his affection. It was constant, solid, and assuring.

‘May we go to bed now?’ he said. ‘I know it is early, but I ache for you.’

‘And how can I deny such a request…’

His smile widened, and then he stood suddenly, turning to kiss her, his fingers combing into her hair and bringing her mouth to his.

He made love slowly, just touching and kissing her for a long time, before moving over her.

She opened her legs so he could come between them, and held his gaze, offering comfort with her eyes as well as her body.

His gaze clung to hers as he moved, pushing in, and pulling out, over and over, in the pattern which drove her senses towards delirium.

Her fingers lifted and stroked through his hair.

It was precious, what he did to her – precious and beautiful. She would hold on to this moment for the rest of her life.

His movements stayed slow and deliberate as her fingers clung to his shoulders and she looked into his blue eyes.

He was hiding from reality. But she wished to hide with him and keep it at bay for as long as they could.

She pressed back against his movement as he continued. An animalistic sound left his lungs, before her name… ‘Ellen.’

She moved more forcefully against him. Wishing to help him escape and escape too.

‘You are a wonderful wife.’

She laughed, clasping his shoulders. ‘You are the perfect husband.’

His gaze became matt for a moment. ‘I will try to continue to be, Ellen.’

Damn it , she had let reality into the room. She did not want to think of the approaching battle, or Napoleon, or anything beyond their bed…

‘You will continue to be.’ She filled her voice with strength, as her hand braced the back of his head and pulled his mouth to hers. She slipped her tongue across his lips.

His movement became more urgent in reply, his hips working swiftly. Her hands dropped to hold his waist, where the muscles worked beneath his skin.

Oh, he made her feel so… so…

He broke within her in a flood of warm sensations, and his weight came down on top of her, pinning her onto the mattress. She did not mind. She liked the feel of him lying over her, and his presence between her thighs. But then, after a moment, he rose and rolled on to his back.

She rolled to her side, pillowed her head on his shoulder, her hand resting on his chest.

His arm came about her shoulders and held her close.

She fell asleep thus.

* * *

It was warm the night of the Duchess of Richmond’s ball, so they walked rather than try to hire a carriage with no payment.

Paul had purchased a new dress for her, though, on goodwill and an I-owe-you payment.

It was in the style of the new fashion, a very finely woven white muslin, so fine, the fabric was virtually translucent, and light and fluid.

It was cut close to her body, and clung to the curve of her bosom, falling to lay flat over her petticoats.

She felt beautiful in this dress, walking beside him, holding his arm.

Nearly every hour he had spent at home, since they had the conversation about the possibility of his death in the park, had been spent in bed together. He wanted to love her constantly, and they lay in bed, kissing, talking and laughing, and acted as though fate could never throw them a fatal hand.

And here they were, attending a grand ball, as if it were something normal in their lives. Of course, for both of them, it could have been, if he had not become a soldier and she had not chosen to marry him and follow the drum.

She and Penny had once crept downstairs and watched a ball at her father’s house, peering about the door which opened onto the musicians’ gallery. The images spun through Ellen’s head.

Her parents’ world, her childhood, seemed as if it had been a fairy tale now.

Her fingers held Paul’s arm as they climbed the steps to the door of the Duke of Richmond’s house, amongst others who had arrived on foot, or in carriages.

‘This way, sir, madam.’ A man in livery bowed to them, and then held out his arm, pointing towards the back of the entrance hall. ‘The ball is being held outside.’

‘Outside…’ Paul whispered, his eyebrows rising, as they followed the trail of guests walking across the hall.

Ellen smiled, wondering where on earth the ball was to be held. It was warm but the weather had been temperamental for weeks. What if it rained?

‘This way, please.’ Another footman held out a hand, directing the guests towards a narrow door.