“It makes a difference that you are a rake.”
Damon held her gaze. “I told you, I will be faithful to our marriage vows, even if I cannot love you.”
Pain stabbed her anew at his assertion, yet Eleanor was determined to conceal it. “You also said you would remain celibate until I agreed to wed you, but you broke your vow in less than three days.”
Damon's lips curved. “I don't believe that counts since I broke it with you.”
“The point is,” she said hurriedly, ignoring the temptation of his smile, “that I don't trust you, Damon.”
His expression sobered at once while his dark eyes seemed to soften. “I know, Elle. But I promise you, I have renounced my wicked ways. And I will do my utmost never to hurt you.”
She couldn't believe him, yet she knew she was fighting a losing battle. She swallowed hard, trying to quell her panic as she repeated her objections. “There must be another way, Damon. I don't want to be forced to wed you simply because my reputation is in shreds.”
“You want to spare your aunt a scandal, though, don't you?”
That consideration trumped all of Eleanor's pro tests. “Yes, of course.” She owed her aunt immensely for opening her home to an orphaned girl. She couldn't repay Beatrix's kindness by miring her in scandal.
“Then there should be no question as to your decision,” he pointed out.
While she stood there debating with herself, Damon closed the final distance between them. Without warning, he drew Eleanor into his arms, yet there was no passion in his embrace. He was offering her comfort instead.
“I know this is not what you wanted, Eleanor,” he said softly, “but we have no choice.”
She squeezed her eyes shut. His caressing voice had the power to daze and enchant her, but his tenderness made her want to cry. It wasn't fair that Damon made her heart melt with his tender concern.
Pressing her face into the warm curve of his shoulder, Eleanor gave a sigh of despair. “I suppose not.”
He drew back slightly to regard her, although he kept his arms wrapped around her in a loose embrace. “Cheer up, sweetheart.” His deep gaze became a dare. “If you had the courage to face the possibility of death in a balloon without flinching, you can face the prospect of marrying me.”
Watching the uncertain emotion flickering in her vivid blue eyes, Damon knew the moment that she accepted the inevitable. He let out the breath he hadn't known he was holding.
“Will you tell your aunt, or shall I?” he asked.
“I will do it,” Eleanor said with another heavy sigh.
He held her lithe body against him for a moment longer, then released her and stepped back. “I will get word to you as soon as I can secure a special license. And I will send Lady Beldon in to you on my way out. I suspect she is waiting anxiously to hear your verdict.”
Lady Beldon was indeed hovering anxiously in the corridor when Damon exited the parlor.
“Your niece would like to speak with you, my lady,” he informed her before bowing and making for the front door.
Upon leaving Portman Place, Damon hailed the first hack he saw. Intent on procuring a special license, he ordered the jarvey to convey him to the ecclesiastical courts at Doctor's Commons, then settled against the squabs, satisfied that he was taking the right course.
He'd known from the moment he made love to Eleanor that their carnal union would lead to marriage, even if she had not. He was honor-bound to wed her.
Yet he had no regrets, Damon realized. He had wanted Eleanor back in his life for good, and he had staked his claim on her today in the most permanent way possible.
Not that taking her body had been an entirely conscious decision. His wild physical response had been a reaction to the peril of the moment. He'd feared he might lose her, Damon admitted. His relief upon knowing that she was safe after their dangerous flight had left him weak-as had the passion they shared afterward. Eleanor's ardent, innocent sensuality had matched every fantasy he'd ever had of her. That, combined with her courage and her vibrant spirit, had awed and aroused and touched him.
He was extremely glad that their tender interlude had been interrupted, for it had allowed him to bring his emotions firmly back under control.
The incident should be a clear warning to him, Damon knew. He needed to keep his distance emotionally from Eleanor once they were wed. Yet he was quite expert at that by now. He'd spent most of his life cultivating dispassion in his relationships.
There would be no question of love between them, Damon promised himself. He knew the kind of devastating pain he risked if he let Eleanor into his heart. A pain that could be even worse than any he'd endured before.
He would not allow her to fall in love with him, either, because she would only be hurt when he couldn't reciprocate, and he was determined not to hurt her again.
He had to earn her trust, however. He had vowed fidelity, but he would have to show her by deeds, not mere words.
No, Damon thought silently, he couldn't fulfill Eleanor's desire for love, but on his life, he would make every other possible effort to see that she was happy.
If Eleanor was stunned and dismayed by the necessity of marrying Damon, so was her aunt, judging from the elder lady's grim expression when she entered the parlor.
But when Beatrix heard of their plan to wed in the morning, she nodded in concurrence. “I agree, it is best to act quickly.”
“I suppose so,” Eleanor said quietly. “Although that means Marcus will miss my wedding. He and Arabella are not expected to return to England until early next week. And Drew and Heath won't be there, either.”
“It cannot be helped, my dear. We need to stanch the brewing scandal as soon as possible. Indeed, I think we would be wise to leave for Brighton tomorrow afternoon, even though the house party is not scheduled to begin until Friday. Our guests can join us then as originally planned. The aspersions will die down sooner if we are away from town.”
Since the prospect of leaving town to avoid facing the ton held great appeal, Eleanor made no objection.
Seeing her so dispirited, though, Beatrix tried to cheer her. “I regret that it has come to this, my dear, but the marriage need be in name only. And of course I will do my best to shield you from Wrexham whenever possible. I will ensure you have separate bedchambers at Rosemont at least… although as a newly wedded couple, it will not do for you to go your separate ways so soon after the ceremony. We don't want your union to look like a forced marriage, even if it is. We will put out word that you and Wrex-ham realized your affections are still engaged, so the gossipmongers will think it a love match. That should mitigate the scandal in some measure.”
But it is not a love match, Eleanor's heart wanted to protest.
At her silence, Beatrix patted her hand briskly. “Now that our plan is settled, you should go upstairs and freshen up. Ring for Jenny to help you change and I will order our staff to begin packing at once. I will also ask Cook to prepare a large luncheon. Now that you are safe at home, I find that I am famished. I could not eat a single bite when your fate was so uncertain.”
Eleanor smiled faintly at her aunt's surprising admission. Beatrix rarely allowed anything to interfere with her comfort. Nor did she often confess to caring about anyone else. Perhaps her budding romance with Signor Vecchi was softening her outlook on life to a small degree.
Eleanor dutifully went upstairs to her bedchamber, but she didn't ring for her abigail. Not only would she rather be alone with her thoughts, she wanted privacy in case the change in her virginal state was evident.
When she shed her pelisse and gown and undergarments, then surveyed her body in the cheval glass, Eleanor could see telltale signs of lovemaking-traces of Damon's dried seed on her thighs along with a pink tinge of blood. Her lips were redder than usual, as well, her breasts more sensitive. And she felt a distinct tenderness between her thighs when she washed herself at the basin.
What was more, the slightest touch made her vividly recall what had happened between them this morning-Damon kissing her and stroking her and moving inside her.
Eleanor shut her eyes, dismay filling her once again. At this time tomorrow she would likely be married to Damon, a fate that would have made her wildly happy two years ago. She had longed to become his wife then, but now…
He claimed he didn't want to hurt her, that he would be faithful to their marriage vows, yet she couldn't bring herself to believe him. And if he betrayed her again? This time the devastation would be overwhelming.
Still, what future would she have if she refused to wed Damon? She couldn't hurt her aunt by bringing scandal down upon their heads. And even if she had cared nothing for Aunt Beatrix, a nunnery was out of the question. Nor could she flee to some quiet place in the country and secrete herself away in shame. She didn't want that kind of life, didn't want to be shunned by genteel society. She wanted to marry, to have children, a family. She wanted a husband who loved her.
That was the rub, Eleanor knew. Damon couldn't or wouldn't love her. She was beginning to understand why-because of the terrible hurt he'd experienced at losing his family. The knowledge made her incredibly sad, yet it also showed her what a powerful force she was up against.
A shiver racked Eleanor's body. She felt so terribly vulnerable, loving Damon when he didn't love her in return.
He could break her heart so easily. His power over her already was indisputable. When she was with him, he enchanted and vexed her and made all her senses come vividly alive. When she argued with him, he simply kissed the breath out of her. And when she made love to him, she felt on fire, wildly out of control.