Chapter 20
L ydia opened her eyes with a start. An arm around her tightened, and she froze for a moment before realizing where she was.
She was lying in Art’s bed, pressed against his body, completely naked save for the sheet covering her hips. His heat and scent surrounded her, and the urge to stay wrapped up in his arms was overwhelming.
But she knew she couldn’t.
They’d made love countless times that night. She couldn’t count how many times he’d brought her to bliss, and every time he had, he’d begged her to stay with him.
“Promise you will stay with me, Lydia,” he’d begged. “Promise me.”
And she did. She cried yes at the top of her lungs and perhaps at that moment, she had meant it. But once reason penetrated her mind, she couldn’t deny it anymore. She couldn’t stay with him. Not now. Not ever.
The viscount and the thief just couldn’t live in the same world. They never could. Just like a maid and a viscount couldn’t. The way his father had broken them apart all those years ago might have been harsh and even brutal, but he was right. She knew it now.
If Art had married her back then, he would have been ostracized from society, and their children, if they had any, would be too. They would never be accepted; they would’ve been shunned, ignored, mocked.
As young, naive, and idealistic as they both had been, the reality would have broken them.
It was different now. They were both weathered by tragedies and heartbreak. They could withstand far more hardships… and yet, she doubted they could withstand this.
The situation she was in now was beyond scandal. If she were to show her face anywhere, she’d be arrested and most likely hanged. The only way they could stay together was if they both ran. But Lydia could not do that to Art. She couldn’t turn him into a fugitive and force him to abandon everyone and everything he’d ever known for her.
He had friends, family, responsibilities. He was a blasted viscount—soon to be a marquess. He could not just disappear.
No, she needed to run. And she needed to run alone.
She burrowed her nose into his chest and inhaled his scent. She would remember this scent—this feeling forever. She carefully disengaged herself from him and inched away until she was free from his grasp, cold air hitting her skin.
Lydia looked around for her clothing, only to remember it was rain-soaked and covered in mud. And she couldn’t exactly escape unnoticed wearing the gown she’d worn the night before. No, she needed to dress inconspicuously if she wanted to escape without notice. Perhaps, even disguised as a man.
She picked up his discarded shirt, and with a shrug, put it on. Wrapping herself in his shirt, she took a deep breath, surrounding herself with his dear scent, remembering the desperate passion with which they’d devoured each other last night. She wanted to cry at the memory. What kind of passion had they missed out on in their life?
Was there another world somewhere, where they did get to elope and live happily together?
A maid and a viscount.
She shook her head. That was not possible.
Silently, so as not to wake him, she sneaked into his dressing room and sifted through the clothing in his wardrobe. None of it truly fit. He was a large man, and she was tiny even compared to most women. But she managed to fasten the breeches with a belt and a few pins, tucking the shirt into them. She’d found a cloak and draped it over her arm for now. She would wrap herself in it just before she left.
The only true challenge would be the boots. But it wouldn’t be the first time she’d stuffed male boots with cloth to make them fit better.
She put on the stockings, collected the boots, pinned them under her armpit, and tiptoed back into the bedchamber to sneak one last peek at the man she loved.
She glanced at Art’s peacefully sleeping form—his chest rising and falling with measured breaths.
Blast! She couldn’t disappear like this. Not again.
She couldn’t leave him without a word.
She silently walked toward a writing desk by the window, lowering her boots to the floor and arranging the cloak over the back of the chair as she sat down behind the desk. A few documents lay by the inkwell, but there was no empty paper. Just a book.
The Scoundrel.
It was fitting somehow to leave a message in her favorite volume. She opened the book, picked up the quill, and stared at the empty page for a moment, thinking what she wanted to say.
I am sorry?
The words rang hollow in her mind. What does it even mean? I am sorry.
How could she explain to him the heartbreak with which she was leaving him? How could she make him understand that this hurt her too much to form words and that she was doing it for him, too? The ruby ring on her finger winked at her, catching the light from the window.
She took it off once again and placed it on the table. Then, she dipped the quill in the inkwell and slowly scrawled the words.
I love you.
“Then why are you leaving?” His hoarse voice behind her made her jump.
She dropped the quill and knocked the inkwell over in the process, spilling the ink onto the book. “Art!”
“Yes, Lydia ?” He stepped closer, crowding her, his naked body perilously close to her back, sending shivers down the back of her spine. He reached out slowly, his arm stretching over her shoulder, and closed the book. Then he turned, propping his hips against the table, facing her. Except in her seated position, she was now facing his groin. “Why are you leaving?”
Lydia blinked, staring at the hard, corded muscles of his thighs. Her gaze slid higher to his cock. It was in its resting form, flaccid and relaxed, but still enough to distract Lily from her thoughts.
“Lydia?” His voice was harsh.
His cock jumped, and Lydia raised her eyes to his. His brows were drawn ominously low over his eyes, his lips flat and his jaw tight. He had always been tall and broad enough to inspire fear. But now, with his thunderous expression as he towered over her, his advantage was undeniable.
Lydia stood, closing the gap between them, meeting his gaze head-on. “I told you last night. I am trouble. Anyone around me shall suffer.”
“Does it look like I care?” He spread his arms, his entire naked form bared to her eyes.
No . No, he did not look like he cared one whit. Lydia forced her gaze to stay focused.
“Someone has to. You have people who depend on you.”
“Yes. You .” He pointed his finger at her chest. “You are one of those people. The most important one of those people.”
Lydia shook her head. “I can take care of myself.”
He scoffed and looked away briefly before boring his gaze into hers again. “And what about me? In your twisted plan of leaving me behind, have you given a thought to what it would do to me? ”
Lydia swallowed, her eyes running around his form.
“Look into my eyes, Lydia!” he growled.
Lydia complied, and he narrowed his gaze.
“Do you know how much I suffered looking for you? I was ready to burn this whole country to the ground if I thought it’d help me get to you. I turned away from my family, responsibilities, and dreams—all so I could find you. And when I couldn’t, I drowned myself in drink. Yes . I am that pathetic. Absolutely pathetically in love with you.
“But that’s what you do for the people you love! You don’t abandon them in the middle of the night with a cryptic, bloody message!” He flung the book from the table as he roared the last words. Lydia shrunk and flinched away from the gesture.
Thorn turned away, placing his hands flat on the table, his breaths heavy. “I am sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
Lydia stood frozen in place, not quite realizing what had just happened. Her gentle, tender Art would never have done that. But then, she hadn’t seen him in over a decade. He had obviously changed. And so had she.
There was hurt within him that wasn’t there before.
He finally turned toward her. “I love you. And I am not letting you go.”
“Then what do you propose?” she cried.
“Propose! That’s a good start.” He took her hand and tugged her toward him, but she wrenched it away. “We are going to get married.”
Lydia stared at him in disbelief. “Are you out of your mind? How are—”
“We are going to elope.” He ran his fingers through his hair, his face twitching. “And I will go straight to the King if I have to in order to get your pardon.”
“King? Thorn, you’re starting to sound like a lunatic.”
He shrugged. “Perhaps I am. At least I am willing to act like a lunatic. I am willing to do anything to keep you in my life. Can you say the same?”
Lydia paused. Yes . The answer was, without question, always yes.
If she were totally selfish and didn’t think about how that would affect his life, she would say yes in a heartbeat. She would sacrifice everything for him.
There was just one thing she wasn’t willing to sacrifice. Him . “Anything, Art, but ruin your life.”
“I have no life without you.”
They stood for a long moment just breathing loudly, staring into each other’s eyes and not speaking. His gaze spoke of promises. Promises of everything they’d ever dreamed of. It was crazy to even contemplate a life with him. Especially now that Lydia was irrevocably ruined.
They’d lost ten years already. Was she willing to lose more without even trying, without even seeing it through? And would she be able to forgive herself for that cowardice if she did?
She grimaced, the decision made. “Very well. What is the plan?”
He grinned, his lips curling into a wicked tilt, then he snaked his arms around her waist and pulled her close. His warmth seeped through her clothing. “You promise you won’t leave?”
“I promise,” she cried with annoyance, although a chuckle erupted from her lips. And if she’d lied the night before, this time, she meant it with her whole being.
“Good. Here’s the plan,” he said in his low, seductive voice. “First…” He lowered his head and claimed her lips in a savage kiss. Lydia sagged against him as her knees gave out, forcing her to wrap her arms around his neck to stay upright. He pulled her closer, his hands roaming her waist, his mouth nipping at her lips before soothing them with his tongue.
Lydia wrapped her leg around his thigh, and he slid his hands around her legs, lifting her up. Her legs around his waist, she rubbed her center against his already hard and erect length. Liquid heat gathered low in her belly and spread even lower, making her squirm uncomfortably.
She writhed, wanting the clothes between them gone.
He placed his hands on her buttocks, then ran them down her thighs, covering her skin in gooseflesh beneath his touch. Then he turned and slowly lowered her onto the desk, still not taking his demanding mouth off her. He gently disengaged her hands from his neck and moved them over her head, one hand holding both of hers by her wrists. His other hand roamed her body. He cupped her breast, pressing his thumb over her nipple, and she arched against him with a cry.
Her wrists jerked against his fingers, but he didn’t let go. He lowered his head, biting on her chin, then placed his open mouth against her throat and licked. Lydia moaned, her hips rising to rub against him as he continued his sensual assault on her senses.
Lydia forgot what they were arguing about just a moment ago. She forgot the entire world because nothing existed in that moment except for her, him, his skillful hands, and his wicked mouth.
He tore his mouth off her and watched her with his searing gaze under hooded lids. Then he let go of her hands, grabbed her by the waist, and did something completely unexpected. He flipped her onto her stomach.
He plastered himself to her, kissing her neck. She could feel his cock rubbing against the slit between her buttocks through the coarse fabric of her breeches. She wished she could take them off, lead him where she wanted him, and have him fill her fully.
But her position didn’t allow for much movement. Lydia whimpered and turned her head, seeking his mouth.
He obliged her by kissing her on her lips in a gentle, almost soothing way. She whimpered.
She wanted more. So much more.
Thorn ran his hands down her arms, and Lydia relaxed against him. He nipped on her ear playfully… and then, still holding her hands behind her back, wrapped her wrists with a cloth.
Lydia frowned. “What are you doing?”
“I am tying you up,” he bit out, his tone suddenly cold.
“Are you out of your mind?” She flailed against the restraints, wiggling beneath him.
Her bottom caressed his engorged cock, making him groan. Thorn lightly smacked her bottom, leaving his hand on her butt cheek. “Do not move. Or you’ll fall off the table.”
Then he stepped away, leaving her on the desk, tied up and confused.
“Obviously, you cannot be trusted,” he said as he disappeared from view. When he reappeared, he was tying a sash over his banyan at his waist. He slid his arms beneath her stomach, then easily lifted her up, hauling her over his shoulder.
“Let me go, you brute!” she bit out, kicking air with her feet.
“Do you want me to tie up your legs, too?” he warned, as he readjusted her over his shoulder before unceremoniously depositing her onto the bed.
“I can’t believe I thought you were a decent man!” She blew her hair out of her face only for it to return.
He leaned over her and brushed her hair away, tucking the strands behind her ear. “Darling, you just promised me you won’t leave. I am just making certain that you keep your promise. Understand?”
“You are keeping me prisoner.”
“No.” He shook his head and pressed a kiss to her lips. “I love you darling, but I am starting to realize that I can’t trust you. I need to run an errand, and I am just making sure you won’t slip away in the meantime. When I get back, we shall head north.”
“North?”
He moved toward his dressing room. “Scotland. We shall marry.”
“If you think that I shall marry you after this, then you have truly gone mad,” she bit out angrily.
Lydia shifted in bed, unsuccessfully trying to free herself of the restraints.
He walked back into the room just as she plopped onto her side, her unruly hair covering most of her face.
“Listen, sweet,” he soothed, as he propped her into a sitting position. “If I don’t wed before my father dies, my mercenary stepmother will get my inheritance. And while that doesn’t matter as much to me as it mattered before I found you, I won’t be able to keep you safe without my riches. Understand? So, yes, I might have gone mad, but if acting mad will help me keep you safe, then so be it.”
“Your father is dying?” She always thought she’d be happy to hear the news when the old marquess left this world but hearing it from Thorn didn’t bring her pleasure.
“Yes.” Thorn’s face was emotionless.
He shifted to sit behind her and untied her wrists, but before she could rejoice, he tied them back up in front of her. “I want you to be able to scratch your nose if you have to,” he said calmly as if discussing dinner plans. “But don’t get any ideas.”
“Thorn, this is madness,” she pleaded. “Untie me. I’ve already promised I shall not run. But we need to talk this through. I am not going to Scotland while every man in England is looking for me. It isn’t safe.”
Thorn ignored her pleas. Instead, he rang the servants’ bell before propping pillows carefully behind her back, making her as comfortable as he could.
He leaned in, his face just a few inches from hers. “I am not letting you go again, Lydia. And as far as getting caught, let me worry about that, would you?”
She looked at her tied up hands, then spread her fingers in a vain attempt to free herself.
“Thorn—”
“Yes, my lord?” A young man with a slight accent appeared in the doorway.
“We have a guest, Vlad.” Thorn stood and approached the lad. He was dressed in gentlemen’s attire. A valet? “Look after her, would you? And by that, I mean do not hand her any sharp objects and make certain she doesn’t break free. She is a prisoner until I get back. If she escapes, it’s your head.”
“You are leaving me tied up with a strange man?” Lydia screeched.
“This is Vlad, my valet and I trust him with my life, which means I trust him with you. I value him dearly, which means that if you do try to escape, I trust you not to hurt him. In the meantime, if you want something to eat or drink, just ask. Vlad will make sure you are comfortable…” He paused. “Up to a point.” With that, he spun on his heel and stalked away.
“Thooorn!” Lydia cried after him as he disappeared.