If he lost control, he doubted he’d ever get it back. He’d not have the wherewithal to discover Dervin, to continue to prove Darton’s innocence. To continue his search for her.
Now he returned to his window and looked over the gardens. Despite the restraint he struggled to maintain, he could hear Elizabeth’s soft laugh, how it turned to gasps of pleasures when they made love. The feel of her skin beneath his fingertips when he touched her, the press of her body against his.
And try as he might, Callum could not block out her cries of release when she climaxed.
Callum didn’t lash out against the window panes but struggled to not drown in the sea of emotion threatening to overwhelm him.
He’d met Elizabeth in Bath and had never enjoyed another’s company as he had hers. Before she left to return to her father’s house in London, Callum had vowed to marry her. He hadn’t much cared what his father thought of the match, but Elizabeth was from a prosperous family, well connected and respected. That had been enough.
Yes, it had been enough, for both his father and Elizabeth’s. The families had aligned well, and the excitement over the impending nuptials had been the talk of the ton. Until that one damnable day. That day lived in his memory as clearly as anything had.
Callum had just finished redressing Elizabeth, and he remembered how they’d laughed over his newfound proficiency with women’s clothing. They’d shared an afternoon of pleasure before Callum had needed to leave to meet with several business interests and review the estate books. The maid had rushed into the room, not even bothering to knock.