Page 41 of The Earl's Scarred Bride

"No." She held his gaze, willing him to believe her. "Your father's death was not your fault. Your mother's choices were not your fault. You were just a boy who loved his family too much to break their hearts."

Something broke in Cecil's expression then—some wall he'd built around his pain crumbling at her words. Before she could react, his mouth was on hers, desperate and demanding.

The kiss was different from their previous encounters—rawer, more desperate. Cecil kissed her like a drowning man seeking air, his hands tangling in her hair as pins scattered to the floor. Elizabeth melted into him, offering the comfort he seemed to desperately need.

"I should stop," he breathed against her mouth, even as his hands tightened on her waist. "I've already said too much, revealed too much?—"

"No." Elizabeth pulled back just enough to meet his gaze. In the flickering candlelight, she could see the vulnerability beneath his usual mask of control. "No more hiding, Cecil. No more pushing me away."

His thumb traced the line of her scar with exquisite gentleness. "You deserve better than a man haunted by ghosts."

"I deserve the truth," she whispered, turning her face to press a kiss to his palm. "And you've given me that tonight."

A shudder went through his powerful frame. "Elizabeth." Her name was both warning and plea. "If you stay, I won't be able to?—"

"Then don't." She reached up to trace his jaw, feeling the tension there. "Let me in, Cecil. Let me help you forget, just for tonight."

His control snapped. The next kiss was searing, stealing her breath as he backed her toward his massive bed. Her hands found his shoulders, feeling the coiled strength beneath his evening coat. When her legs hit the mattress, she pulled him down with her, needing to feel his weight, his solidity.

"You trust me too much," he muttered against her throat, his hands working at the fastenings of her gown. "After everything I just told you about betrayal?—"

"I trust you," she cut him off, arching as his lips found a sensitive spot behind her ear, "because you've proven worthy of that trust.Because you sacrificed your own happiness to protect those you loved."

He stilled above her, his eyes searching her face in the dim light. What he saw there must have convinced him, because his next kiss was achingly tender. His hands, when they returned to her gown, moved with reverent care.

Elizabeth's own fingers weren't idle, working at his cravat, his waistcoat, needing to feel his skin against hers. Each newly revealed inch of him made her breath catch—the strong column of his throat, the broad plane of his chest, the ridges of muscle that spoke of hours spent in physical pursuits.

"My beautiful wife," he breathed, finally freeing her from her gown. His eyes darkened as he took in the sight of her in nothing but her thin shift. "So perfect. So—" He broke off as her hands found the buttons of his trousers. "Elizabeth, wait. You should know—I won't risk getting you with child. Not when you've made your feelings clear on the matter."

Elizabeth's heart swelled at his consideration, even in this moment of passion. "I trust you," she whispered again, the words carrying more weight than before.

Cecil groaned, capturing her mouth in another searing kiss as his hands skimmed down her sides. The thin fabric of her shift did nothing to dull the heat of his touch. When his fingers found the sensitive spot behind her knee that he'd discovered during their dance lessons, she gasped against his lips.

"You're so responsive," he murmured, his voice rough with desire. "Every touch, every kiss...do you know what it does to me, seeing you like this?"

Elizabeth could only whimper in response as his mouth traced the line of her scar—that mark she'd spent years hiding, which he seemed to worship. His tongue flicked against her pulse point, making her arch beneath him.

"Cecil, please..." She wasn't even sure what she was begging for, only that she needed more.

"Shh," he soothed, though his own breathing was uneven. "Let me take care of you, love."

Elizabeth's breath caught as Cecil drew closer, his dark blue eyes searching her face with an intensity that made her heart race. In that moment, she saw not the earl, not the rake, but a man haunted by a burden too heavy for any child to carry alone."Elizabeth," he breathed her name like a prayer, his fingers ghosting along her cheek. "Tell me to stop. Tell me this isn't what you want."

But Elizabeth found herself leaning into his touch, drawn by some magnetic force she couldn't resist. "I want..." she whispered, her voice trembling slightly. "I want you to let me in. To trust me."

Something shifted in Cecil's expression—a crack in his carefully constructed walls. His thumb traced the line of her scar with exquisite gentleness before sliding into her hair. "You don'tknow what you're asking for," he murmured, even as he drew her closer.

"Then show me," Elizabeth challenged softly, tilting her face up to his.

The first brush of his lips against hers was achingly tender—so different from the passionate kisses they'd shared before. This felt like surrender, like trust. Elizabeth's hands came up to grip his shoulders, steadying herself as waves of sensation washed over her.

Cecil kissed her as if memorizing every detail—the soft gasp she made when his teeth grazed her lower lip, the way she melted against him when his tongue traced the seam of her mouth. His other hand settled at her waist, pulling her flush against his body until she could feel the thundering of his heart matching her own frantic pulse.

When he finally drew back, his breathing ragged, Elizabeth saw raw need warring with restraint in his darkened gaze. She knew he was giving her one last chance to retreat, to maintain the careful distance between them.

Instead, she reached up to trace his jaw, feeling the tension there. "No more hiding, Cecil," she whispered. "No more pushing me away."

A shudder went through Cecil's powerful frame at her words. His control snapped, and his next kiss was searing—stealing her breath as he backed her toward his massive bed. Elizabeth'shands found his shoulders, feeling the coiled strength beneath his evening coat. When her legs hit the mattress, she pulled him down with her, needing to feel his weight, his solidity.

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