A/N: Welcome to my new story. Unlike my other fics this is not an Earl/OC fic. This is the story of the Earl with his wife, Elizabeth Malet. I simply love this pairing and since there are few stories about them, I decided to give it a shot. If you read, then please let me know. Feedback is my only payment.

So, here is the prologue to set the story. I hope you like it.

Suggestions, ideas and general comments are more than welcome! In fact, they are my bread and butter! ;o)

Disclaimer: I do not own the Libertine.

Desire Me Not

Chapter 1~Prelude

'I'm not saying that love always takes you to heaven. Your life can become a nightmare. But that said, it is worth taking the risk.'

~Paulo Coelho

Horses' hooves woke her up. Was it sleep? That long limbo of pain and nightmares…Could that be called sleep? She didn't know. What she did know was that she was glad she was awake. Her eyes did not feel heavy. Her limbs did not feel numb. Her skin did not ache. Her mouth was not dry. Her body was not dressed in bleak white nightgowns soiled by the evidence of her sickness. No. Her body was wrapped in heavy blue silk and waves of lace.

She ran her hands over her corseted waist, but she felt no pressure, not even an ounce of breathlessness. It was as if her body felt no pain, no irritation. The silk felt heavy and smooth against her legs and she was barefoot. She frowned at that. Why was she barefoot? It was inappropriate to be barefoot. She was no longer fifteen.

She breathed in deeply and her nostrils were immediately filled with the scent of humid soil and leaves. The smell was familiar. Curiously, she gazed outside of the carriage window. The coach was riding among the wildness of the country. The only colors that flashed right before of her eyes were the green and brown. She smiled and raised a hand to push at a curl that had fallen into her face.

"Don't."

The voice startled her and she turned to face the sound. She then noticed how long the carriage was. She could hardly see the other side. The seat was obscured by darkness and as hard as she tried she could not locate the source of the voice.

"Pardon?" She murmured and when no one answered she reached up to push the lock behind her ear.

"I said, don't."

The command was louder, firmer and she froze. She knew the timbre of that voice. She recognized that voice. It was a voice she hadn't heard in so long. She had mourned, she had cried over the loss of that voice. She had been hurt and praised, in equal measure, by that voice.

Her hand remained suspended next to her cheek as her eyes searched frantically for the face that belonged to that voice. She needed to see that face.

"Lower your hand." The voice murmured again and she felt her throat closing up. Obediently, she obliged and then there was a deep sigh that made her skin prickle.

"Good girl. Let it flirt with your skin. Your hair was always lovely when you were not forcing it back with countless pins."

Elizabeth swallowed thickly as a light veil of mist fluttered around the carriage cabin. She was speechless; she was certain she was dreaming.

"This is not a dream." He murmured again and the fog licked at the skin of her bare feet as he spoke. She shivered.

"Is it not?" She questioned.

He clicked his tongue, "You always had trouble believing my words." His voice was heavy with reproof, "The dreams are over; for good."

Elizabeth frowned, "Are you who I think you are?" She whispered and the mist laved at her feet again.

"It depends on who you want me to be. Would it ease your pain if I were to remain just a voice? A specter of your hell? Or maybe a ghost of your past? You are ruling me in this life too, Elizabeth. Are you satisfied?" He sounded angry.

"Satisfied?" She echoed as her eyes narrowed in a vain effort to see him.

"That you have dragged me here with you…" His tone was filled with reproach.

"You dragged me here…If I am not mistaken." She noticed that the carriage was barely rocking with the motion. She frowned.

"Where are we going?" She asked and for a moment the mist invaded her personal space, making it impossible for her to see, impossible for her to breathe. She shut her eyes as a cold gust of air slapped her face, freezing her skin.

"I do not know yet." He replied and he sounded much closer. The scent of wine and sandalwood filled her nostrils and despite her always cool reserve she felt her eyes stinging with unshed tears.

"You must know if you intend on haunting me even in my death." She hissed as she opened her eyes. There was a flash of movement and then there he was. Angering him always did the trick.

His pale face appeared through the mist and he slapped his hands on either side of her, his palms pressing hard against the cushion of the seat.

Elizabeth stood still as he loomed over her. Her green eyes widened as she stared at him. Long curls were framing his face, his lips were twisted in that familiar scowl that just compelled her to lean over and make it disappear with a kiss, and his eyes were glimmering and dark; so very dark that she shivered.

"This is not your death, my Lady." He told her through gritted teeth, "This is your rebirth. Your wrath can send me away as fast as your need brought me back. Name your desire. Speak the words and I shall be gone. I will let you travel alone to your destination. That way I won't have to wait for your decision." His unfathomable dark gaze scorched her skin and it was the first sign of discomfort she felt since she had opened her eyes.

"What decision am I to make at the end of this?" She asked him softly, barely keeping her hands by her sides.

He stared at her with that same snarl and then slowly tilted his head to the side.

"Your questions have always brought me to my knees." His hands slipped from the squab and travelled down, parallel to her sides, until he dropped to his knees in front of her, "I daresay you enjoy it." He breathed wickedly as his palms slid firmly over her knees. He parted them and slipped in between.

The lacy trimming of his baggy shirt tickled her skin as he pushed his hands underneath her silky skirts, and when he leaned forward and pressed his mouth to her corseted abdomen she sighed tremulously.

"I do believe you shall recognize the grounds…" His voice was distracted and she watched with fascination as he laid his head on her lap, his cheek resting atop the silk folds of her dress.

"They were your heaven…and my personal hell." His voice was scratchy, but his hair was soft as she brushed it with her hand.

She wasn't sure if she should touch him. She had always been hesitant to offer him affection. She had been rejected countless times for her attempts.

His hand shot up and clasped her hand, squeezing it tightly and she gasped as she looked at it. It was pale, ink stained, but scarred with the remnants of his illness. She eyed her own hands. They were spotless.

Her mouth parted when he dragged her hand to his cheek. Her arm seemed to pulsate with life as her fingers touched his skin. Unlike his hand, his cheek was smooth and soft; familiar. She smiled and his eyes spotted the smile. He didn't seem pleased, but at the same time he didn't seem angry. Elizabeth was confused, but as she gazed outside she noticed the gates of Adderbury manor. She stiffened.

"No." she shook her head, "No. You must take me back." Her voice was frantic, "John!"

He leaned back and eyed her coolly, his eyes narrowed, "Why?"

"I don't want to go in there."

"You won't. Just look." He looked outside the window and as the horses kept pulling the carriage forward the scenery changed. The gates of her home in Somerset greeted her and she blinked as a stray tear slid down her cheek.

"What…what is happening?" She whispered and he came to sit beside her on the seat.

"You are going to watch a play." He murmured into her ear as his hands reached for her. They traced her neck, her shoulders, her sides, her waist and then her hips. He turned her to face the window as the carriage came to an abrupt halt.

"Play? We are not at a theatre." She whispered and the presence behind her back, his presence, was burning her, scorching her with warmth that she hadn't felt since the first years of their marriage.

"Oh but we are…We are in the greatest production of our lives." His breath fell hot and moist on her neck and ear and she shivered as his hands came to rest just below her breasts, "Our own play." He murmured and his lips captured her bejeweled earlobe. His tongue laved at it and when the gates of her home got closer he released it with a small audible pop. His chin found her shoulder and suddenly the carriage door slammed open. The front door of the manor seemed closer than before and he reached out. In his hand he held the key. He unlocked the door and then they were both pulled in. Elizabeth's vision blurred, but the hands around her didn't let go.

As she got lost inside the darkness of her own home she heard him speaking to her in rushed, jagged sentences.

"Don't let go. Ever."

Before she had the time to answer the hands around her disappeared and everything went black. She was home.

Then Old Age, and experience, hand in hand,

Lead him to death, and make him understand,

After a search so painful, and so long,

That all his life he has been in the wrong…

…And 'tis this very reason I despise.

This supernatural gift, that makes a Myte-,

Think he's the image of the Infinite:

Comparing his short life, void of all rest,

To the Eternal, and the ever blest.

This busie, puzzling, stirrer up of doubt,

That frames deep mysteries, then finds them out…

~Earl Of Rochester, A Satire Against Mankind

End of chapter 1

Author's note: Thank you for reading. As you can see I played with the afterlife here a bit…We shall see how that turns out in the end…

So, liked it? Hated it? Please let me know and I will update soon! I am actually thrilled to write this story. It's been in my head for…years!

So, comments?

Xxx Lina ;o)