Chapter 14

London, 1820…

"What are you doing?" Elizabeth asked, bracing herself against the doorway to her father's study as she watched Spinelli. He looked up from the drawers of patient files he was tossing into boxes, his gaze drifting over to the roaring fire. "What the hell are you doing?"

The young man remained stiff, his hands tightening over the box of files as she rushed over, following his gaze once again to the fire. "You're burning – you're burning everything!" she cried, shoving him away. "What are you thinking? This is – this is my father's livelihood – his records, his research – what the hell are you doing?"

"Fair Elizabeth, I was merely-"

"Making a mockery of everything my father ever worked for!" she interrupted, letting the box fall to the floor as she turned her attention to the fire, taking in the stack of crackling papers as they burned. "Who gave you the authority to do such a thing?"

"I did," came Jason's voice from the doorway. He shifted his eyes to Spinelli's, dismissing his assistant with a single gaze.

"Why would you do this?" she cried, dropping to her knees in front of the fire. Her hands sprung out without thinking, but she pulled them away the second she felt the heat. "This is everything he ever worked for."

"We can't leave things like this in the house," he replied, kneeling down beside her and placing a hand on her shoulder. "You know that the police confiscated some of his records already, and with us gone – well, what's to stop someone from breaking in?"

"So, you're just going to burn it all?" she asked, jerking away from his touch as she rushed to her feet, and hurried over to the desk. She pulled open several drawers, letting out a gasp when she saw they were empty. "How could you do something like this without telling me?"

"I didn't think of it until this morning, and you were upstairs packing. I didn't think-"

"Exactly, you didn't think," she hissed, tugging a drawer from the desk and flinging it at him. "You never think to tell me things. I suppose I should be honored that you actually asked me about moving and didn't pack up and toss me over your shoulder." She arched an eyebrow as she came around the desk. "After all, that was your original intention, right? To throw me over your shoulder and take me away against my will?"

"I haven't done anything against your will," he spat, his face darkening.

"You would have," she pointed out, her eyes roaming over the bookshelves to the other boxes around the room. "Where are his books? His notes – his – this was everything to him, Jason." She started behind the desk again and leaned over to open the bottom drawer, which was as bare as everything else. "My – my…" Tears stung her eyes as she slammed the drawer, lifting her eyes to his. "Did you bother to look at what you were burning, Jason? Or did you just tell your assistant that none of it matters anymore and to toss it aside?"

"Elizabeth, I packed the books and several of his notebooks-"

"Probably all the wrong things," she cut in, clenching her fists at her sides. "You should have asked me to help. What else are you throwing out? We're coming back – we're…" She lifted a hand to her mouth as she hurried from the study, turning into the first room she came too. "You've packed everything…"

"Elizabeth, we can't leave things lying around. You had enough problems with people trying to run you out of town before I came here. The very moment they know you're gone, they'll swarm this place – looking for evidence, clues, gossip, and I-"

"Are we coming back?" she asked, folding her arms over her chest and refusing to allow herself to cry. Her lower lip trembled as she tightened her jaw, her lashes fluttering closed. "We're not coming back, are we?"

"Honestly?" he asked, reaching out to touch her, but she jerked away.

"It would do you some good to give me a bit of honesty seeing as you're my damned husband!" she replied, cradling her face in heryour hands. "Did you think you could just take me away and I'd never want-"

"I was hoping you'd like it enough in the country to stay there," he interrupted, refusing to allow her to get started on a list of assumptions. "I was hoping the new home would be better for you – that you could let go of what happened here, and-"

"I will never let go of what happened here," she cut in, her eyes rimming with tears. She sniffled, blinking them back, having already allowed him to see her in one too many weak moments. "And as awful as that night was – it doesn't define my home for me. This is where I grew up, where I lived with my father, and those memories will never be touched by that awful night. I won't allow it."

Her eyes softened briefly. "What happened to you?" she asked, frowning heavily. "What happened that was so horrible that you feel like you have tocan run away from everything?"

"Elizabeth, this isn't about me," he answered, looking away. "I thought getting away would help you."

"Oh, yes, taking me away from everything I've ever known will surely save me," she murmured sarcastically, shoving her tender moment of worry for him aside. His lips parted, but she held her hand up, refusing to give him another chance to lie to her. "I don't understand you, Jason. Don't you have a place that is always safe? That's not filled with dreadful memories – and even if it is, there's always some good that exists?."

"This was my place," she shrugged, knowing that fighting him was completely hopeless. "The good that existed here was what kept me going." She hung her head and started for the stairs, stopping at the bottom to look at him. "Clearly, you want me to be some poor, submissive little wife that goes along with everything you do, so you win. I'm tired of fighting."

She was driving him damn crazy, and he knew that she knew she was doing this, which was the most frustrating part of all. When Spinelli went up to tell her their carriage was waiting, Jason couldn't believe the way she'd sauntered down the stairs and gave him a weary smile, muttering about how heavy her bags were and how her husband had left a feeble woman to fend for herself. This was conveniently after the help, who'd loaded the rest of their things, had already left, leaving Jason with the task of carrying her bags, which were unusually heavy.

He didn't bother to complain. Not even when he held her hand and helped his feeble wife into the carriage and she asked him if he'd treated her rock collection with great care, did he complain. He was too busy trying to figure out if her bags were filled with rocks and where in the hell she'd gotten so many on such short notice. Before he could even ask, she started complaining about the warmth inside the small space, suggesting that he breathe as little as possible.

Since then, she'd been completely quiet, the only sound was the wheels of the carriage as it rolled on and the occasional flutter of the fan she clutched in her hand. It wasn't that Jason didn't appreciate the silence – hell, he'd been waiting for her to stop talking since the first night they'd met -, but it was ear piecing, maddening, even.

"Sir?" came the driver's voice as the carriage rolled to a stop.

"Yes?" he gripped, not wanting the trip to take longer than necessaryit had to.

"I think there's a problem with a wheel. I'm going to take a look, so maybe you and your wife would like to stretch your legs."

"Just fix the damn wheel," he hissed, holding a hand over his eyes.

"Headache, darling?" Elizabeth asked sweetly, tipping her head in his direction as she fanned herself.

He grunted, pushing the door open and sliding out of the carriage. "I think some fresh air could do us both some good," he muttered, leaving the door open as he walked away.

"Well, how do you suppose I'll get out of here?" she called after him, pressing a hand to her chest.

"Fall," he smirked, kicking the dirt beneath his feet on the road as he started for the field next to it. He was half tempted to walk the next couple of miles to the house, leaving her to play the ideal wife all by her lonesome.

"Why thank you," he heard her cooing behind him, purring to the driver about how her husband wasn't feeling well.

He hung his head when he heard the tall grass rustling behind him as Elizabeth swore quietly to herself, flashing him a wide grin as she stepped up beside him. "Your head feel better?" she asked, placing a hand on his arm as she liftedleft the other to his forehead. "You do feel warm. I told you not to breathe so much and use up all the air, but that is just like a silly man."

"So much for being submissive," he clucked, jerking his head away from her and continuing to walk, still debating on whether or not he would get back in the carriage.

"So much for being the kind of husband my father dreamt of," she spat, gripping her dress in one hand, her fan in the other, as she followed after him. "Or is that what you do? You sell people on some idealistic image of you for some personal gain. Money? Fame? I do believe Jason Morgan has enough of that on his own, though, and something tells me he's too proud to take another man's-"

"What the hell is the matter with you?" he barked, turning around to face her, his hands on his hips.

"You know what is wrong!" she cried, looking over her shoulder to make sure the driver didn't hear them. "You don't know show up on a stranger's doorstep and all but demand entrance! You don't trick a girl into marrying you by using her father! You don't threaten to throw a woman over your shoulder to manipulate her into doing what you want! And you don't pack up her house without telling her first! Not to mention burning everything that's important to her!"

He narrowed his eyes, no longer caring about how angry he made her. He'd make her so mad she wouldn't let him back in the carriage. "Elizabeth, darling, I already did all of that."

Her face hardened instantly, and he turned away, starting across the field, leaving her behind him. "Oh, you!" she shrieked, breaking into a sprint as she drew her hand over her shoulder and flung the fan through the air, gasping when it collided with the back of his head.

"Son of a bitch!" he snarled, spinning around on his feet, not surprised that she had resorted to some kind of physical payback. Her eyes widened, and he reminded himself not to lose it – at least not completely. "I didn't burn everything."

"You did. The drawers were empty. Everything I ever-"

"You honestly think I'm completely heartless, don't you?" he asked, tearing past her as he headed for the carriage.

"Well, when was the last time you acted decently?" she asked, starting to go after her fan, but chasing ed after Jason instead. "You just do all these things without asking me, and it – what are you doing?" She stopped outside of the carriage, glancing briefly at the driver who was working on the wheel as Jason dug through the back of it, swearing loudly. "Jason, this is what I'm-"

"Here," he groaned, tugging a box from the back of it. "I didn't burn everything."

"What?" she asked, dropping to her knees beside him, paying no attention to the fact that she was on a dirt road. She gasped as she pulled out several of her father's notebooks, a bound book, and a box of letters that Jason had come across belonging to her mother and father. "You…"

"I didn't burn everything," he repeated, hoping this was what she'd been worrying about this whole damned time.

"Why didn't you tell me?" she asked, pulling the bound book into her lap and opening the cover.

"It's difficult when you never stop-"

"Did you do this?" she asked, holding the book of her sketches up, a tiny smile on her face. "Did you bind my sketches?"

"I found them," he shrugged, annoyed that one smile made his fury disappear in an instant. "I thought you'd like them all together."

"Why didn't you just-"

"I was going to give everything to you at the new house," he interrupted, glaring at the driver who seemed all too interested in their conversation. He nodded at Jason, turning briefly to the wheel before moving to his feet, silently letting him know that all was fixed. Now, if he could just fix things with Elizabeth. "It was a gift of sorts."

"I thought Spinelli burned them," she murmured, flipping through the pages and tracing various bones with her fingertips. "I thought everything was…" She stood up, dusting her knees off, her lips pulled into a tight frown. "This doesn't mean that you're not wrong, Jason. You still lied and tricked me, and you – you can't expect to pull things from boxes every time you upset me."

"If you didn't get ahead of yourself, I wouldn't have to put them in boxes in the first place," he pointed out, causing her to scowl. She turned away and climbed back into the carriage, slamming the door closed behind her. Shaking his head, he picked up the box, placing it back where he'd pulled it from, before jerking the door open and climbing back in beside her. "You're welcome."

"I didn't thank you," she hissed, slumpinged over the book as she flipped through the pages. She shifted uncomfortably, leaning back as she closed the book and slowly lifted her eyes to his. "You should have told me."

"You were so upset this morning. I didn't even think about it, but I had already packed-"

"Not about the book or the letters – about leaving," she sighed, her eyes softening as she cradled the book to her chest. "It was my home, and now it's not anymore. You didn't give me any time to even think about that." She sighed again, resting her forehead against the side of the carriage. "I doubt it's even you I'm mad at. I think I knew – I knew from the first night you came that somehow you'd get me to leave-"

"I wasn't trying to trick you," he argued gently, scooting over enough to close what little space there was between them. "I had no intentions of leaving the city after your father approved of us staying, but then you…I believe that getting you away will help. You can be as strong-willed and determined as you want, but what happened – you need to deal-"

"You should have told me," she interrupted, her eyes fluttering closed. "You're so good at talking to me, Jason, but when you talk at me – it's – it's infuriating."

"When you're upset, talking at you is the only way-"

"Don't try to be funny," she murmured, her plump lips giving a hint of a smile as the driver finally climbed back ointo the carriage.

"I don't think I've ever been called funny before," he commented, as she shifted beside him, sliding her arm through his.

"I can't say I'm surprised that your attempts have fallen flat in the past," she teased, resting her head against his arm as she tapped her other hand against the book. He was too caught up in how it felt havingto have her body next to his to actually give a damn that she'd just insulted him.

Beautiful women – they really could get away with anything.

"You should have told me," she repeated, tightening her hold on him.

"I apologize," he murmured sincerely, relieved when the carriage finally started to roll again.

"Me too," she whispered, pressing her face against his arm as she smiled. "For the fan…and the rocks."

"And your dreadful assumptions," he offered, and she clucked her tongue.

"Such assumptions wouldn't be necessary if – oh, forget it," she shrugged, wiggling beside him as she yawned. "You win again."

"Yes," he murmured, dropping his head so that his nose lingered over the top of her pinned curls. He closed his eyes as he breathed her in, enjoying the silence of them being together. "I win."

Elizabeth yawned, curling on her side, vaguely aware of the fact that she was being carried. She breathed in deeply, taking in the musky scent of a man, and worrying what would happen if she opened her eyes.

After all, it was a brief moment of vulnerability as the carriage came to a halt, Elizabeth half asleep against Jason's side. The ride couldn't have taken much longer after they'd stopped, but she'd managed to drift off to sleep anyway. Using Jason as a pillow was much easier than fighting with him, and just as she was about to sit up, he swept her into his arms and eased her out of the carriage.

She couldn't refrain from curling against him and burying her face in the crook of his neck as he started up what she assumed was stairs. She was too afraid to open her eyes, for him to know that she knew what he was doing, out of fear that he'd drop her to her feet and demand she walk.

"Elizabeth," he murmured, his cheek brushing against her forehead as he eased her from his arms and onto the bed. "Elizabeth?"

"Mmmm," she groaned, her eyes fluttering open as she smiled.

"We're here," he whispered, shoving a few stray curls from her face. "Finish your nap. I'll leave your bags in the hallway."

"You make it impossible to be angry with you," she sighed, rolling onto her side as he drew a blanket over her and tucked it in at her sides.

"Well, I'm sure you'll find a reason by dinner," he replied, swiping his fingertips over the side of her face. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

"Thank you," she said, her voice shaky as she tightened the blanket around herself. "For – for taking me away." She felt confused, hated that he made her feel this way, and wasn't sure how to explain what she felt. "I think I was afraid to leave because it was…"

"Your home, your safe place," he filled in, his fingers lingering on her chin. "I understand."

"It doesn't scare me," she confessed quietly, wanting him to understand how she felt, but not sure if she was ready for that – or if he was either. "It sneaks up on me, I think. And aside from a few nightmares, – it's not as haunting as you think." She shrugged, closing her eyes as she pressed her face into the pillow. "Or maybe I'm good at pretending. I lie to myself about a lot of things."

"You don't have to lie to me," he murmured softly, and she couldn't help but smile.

"Oh, Jason," she replied, yawning as she closed her eyes. "If only it were that simple."