Chapter 8
CHAPTER 8
W ithin an hour and a half, Lydia and Keith were dressed in their finest clothing. Father Adams stood before them in Forde Abbey’s drawing room, with Will, Sarla, and a handful of village friends in attendance. They exchanged their vows as though no one else existed. They spoke each word from their heart. As they kissed, a murmur passed through the spectators. The couple pulled apart but found no one watched them.
A kaleidoscope of butterflies fluttered by the window, with a bluebird sitting on the ledge. Lydia approached slowly and peered through the glass. The bird chirped before flying away, but the butterflies remained. She looked at Keith, who’d stepped behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist.
“She’s at peace, Keith. She knows Oliver will pay for what he did.”
“Are you certain?”
“Bluebirds were her favorite. We used to watch the butterflies each spring and make up stories about where they would travel to. Those were among our happiest memories. She’s telling me she’s no longer restless. She’s going where she belongs.”
Keith kissed her behind the ear before they joined everyone for the wedding breakfast. The meal passed merrily, but it felt like an eternity to the newlyweds.
There’d been time for Lydia’s sister and her family to arrive before the ceremony. She wished her brothers could have attended, but one departed for his Grand Tour just before Lydia and Keith’s romance began, and the other brother was away at school. She also wished her cousins and their families could have attended, but it would have taken days for them to arrive. Charlie was due any day, so it wouldn’t have been possible for her to make the journey.
“We shall have a party soon to properly celebrate with everyone we love most, sweetling.” Keith lifted her hand and brought it to his lips.
“How did you know what I was thinking? Your servants laid the table, so there are no empty chairs.”
“Because I miss them too. It was Raj who warned me both times that I needed to return here with haste. It was Jemma who brought you into the abbey and to me. I hardly think anyone would appreciate me thanking them for kidnapping Jemma, but I don’t know how else we would have come together.”
“We would have found a way. Kelsey would have done it.” Lydia gazed out the window and remembered the happiest times she and her best friend spent in the garden together, from chasing each other as children to tittering over the books they sneaked to wondering who they’d marry one day. When she shifted her focus to Keith, she saw her love for him mirrored in his eyes as he watched her.
She’d never been one to believe in superstitions or ghosts, but she would vow to her last breath that her friend remained there until that day. She prayed Kelsey’s spirit would find peace in heaven or be one step closer to nirvana. While she’d been raised Anglican, her mother’s Hindu faith was never at odds for Lydia. She saw the overlap and gladly accepted either could be the right path. All she wanted was for Kelsey to know her life had meaning and that even after death, she was still Lydia’s best friend.
“I believe you’re right.” Keith recalled the fire and the unexpected visit from Marauder, the cat. He couldn’t explain either beyond believing it was his sister who guided him to Lydia. He would be eternally grateful. “There has been great loss here, but you and I will create the happy family that should have always lived here.”
Lydia’s mind filled with lurid images of what she and Keith might do that night. Her gaze darted to the doorway, picturing the stairs on the other side. She pressed her legs together, embarrassed that her thoughts should jump to something so intimate after thinking about her friend, who was also Keith’s sister. But she was certain her friend wouldn’t have faulted her, rather likely encouraging her.
“I can guess what you’re thinking,” Keith whispered as he brought his lips near her ear. “You shall make me so eager that every guest here will know what I want the moment I stand.”
“Perhaps that would make them leave sooner.” Lydia turned to look at Keith, and it brought their lips together. They exchanged a kiss that barely met the bounds of propriety, remembering at the last moment they were not yet alone. Their gazes promised more later.
Sarla watched the young couple throughout the meal, so she was the one who finally ushered everyone out of the front door, leaving the couple alone. Keith swung Lydia into his arms, taking the stairs two at a time until he reached the lord’s chamber.
“I haven’t had time to switch the bed to something smaller,” Keith jested as he put Lydia on her feet.
“You shall just have to chase me across that massive thing.” Lydia canted her head toward the bed as she began to unfasten the buttons on Keith’s waistcoat. It wasn’t long before she’d shed her more ornately stitched kurta and ghagra , and Keith stood bare, too.
“Lydia, you take my breath away.” Keith skimmed the back of his fingers down her shoulder and arm. She stepped forward and placed her hands on his chest. She grazed her nails over his abdomen, making the muscles twitch. Every ridge and groove fascinated her.
“I shall say the same about you, Keith. I never imagined a man could so resemble the ancient statues the Romans and Greeks chiseled.”
Keith chuckled. “Are you saying I’m made like a god?”
“Neptune, perhaps.” She stepped around him, observing all that she could see as she trailed her hand over his back and buttocks. When she came to stand before him again, Keith twirled her around and drew her back against him, his arousal resting between her buttocks.
“I shall endeavor not to disappoint, little one.” Keith kissed her neck before leading her to the bed. While he knew she was a maiden, he didn’t fear sharing any intimacy with her since she knew what to expect. His only worry was hurting her, since he was so much larger than her. While she wasn’t slender, her stature was significantly smaller than his. He was a sizable man everywhere. “If there’s anything you don’t enjoy, we stop.”
Lydia reclined against the pillows, opening her legs, and reaching for him. She wrapped her arms around his neck, her wrists crossing against his nape. Wicked promises filled their kisses, but when Keith attempted to slide down her body, she shook her head. “Next time. I want what we haven’t had yet.”
Keith thought he might expire. His rod pressed against her entrance as they kissed, and it proved almost too much temptation to thrust into Lydia and claim her as his wife. He’d thought about prolonging their foreplay to give his eagerness time to subside. He feared his anticipation would cause him to finish before Lydia got started. But he couldn’t resist when she tilted her hips in invitation. He nudged her entrance with the tip of his cock, drawing it through the gathered dew and between her petals. He pressed into her, accustoming her to the feel.
He suckled her breast as he rocked against her with shallow thrusts. His thumb worked her pearl until she writhed beneath him, begging for them to join. Resting on his forearms, he captured her hands, entwining their fingers above her head. They shared a searing kiss before Keith thrust into her. She froze, her nails digging into the back of his hand, but she soon relaxed. She realized it wasn’t pain so much as shock that caused her response. The feeling of Keith buried to the hilt inside her was pleasurable, but foreign. As she adjusted to the sensation, she moved beneath him.
“Lyddie, I don’t want to hurt you, but holy hell, I need to move.”
“You aren’t hurting me. I want what comes next.”
Keith released her hands and scooped his under her shoulder blades and then onto her shoulders as her hands slid to his backside. They moved together, synchronicity born of intuition and shared by soulmates. Each surge of Keith’s cock felt as though it might touch her womb. She’d never imagined the feeling of being so full or having something so deep within. She flexed her core’s muscles, eliciting groans from her husband. Each one made her more brazen. They were soon glistening as perspiration made their bodies slick.
“Keith,” Lydia moaned. “So close.”
“Me too. Come with me, sweetling.” Keith pistoned his hips as she pulled his head down for a kiss. They reached the edge together and tumbled over it into coital bliss. They laid panting and cuddling until neither could keep their eyes open. They knew they were both where they belonged.
* * *
One week later
“You’ve been my guest for seven days, Cousin. I no longer wish to house or feed you.” Keith stood before Oliver, who cowered in the cell. His clothes and body were filthy, and he’d clearly lost weight since Keith granted him only enough sustenance to keep him alive. He’d intended on dealing with his cousin the day after his wedding, but it took three days for the newlyweds to emerge from their chamber. Once they returned to the outside world, he read Kelsey’s diary. Lydia believed it was finally time. It took him four days to finish it. He had to set it aside frequently. He spoke little during those days, except to ask Lydia to ride with him or walk along the beach. He talked only when they were alone at night.
When he finished reading his sister’s recitations of her misery and what befell her, he’d needed the morning to convince himself not to torture Oliver. He decided that while his cousin didn’t deserve a quick death, he wouldn’t prolong it, since it agitated Lydia that he was in his makeshift dungeon. He didn’t want to upset her or make her fear something would go awry.
“I know what you did to my sister. I know every detail because I read about it. I know how you hurt her, how you ignored her pleas to stop, how you laughed as you kicked her while you buttoned the fall of your pants. I know it was your idea, not Windsor-Clive’s. I know you’re a sick bastard to assault your own cousin. She might as well have been your sister for how close we are on the family tree.”
Keith drew back his booted foot and slammed it into Oliver’s ribs, just as the man had done to Kelsey that night in the garden. He plowed his fist into his prisoner’s face and gut, pulling him onto his feet for the blow, then allowing him to crumple to the floor. He did it five times before he withdrew his knife.
“You hurt my sister, and you thought to hurt the woman you knew I would marry. Now I shall hurt you.” Keith whipped the knife across Oliver’s groin. He waited only long enough for his cousin to howl once. Then he slashed the man’s throat. He stepped back, looking at the dead body. He felt not a moment of remorse.
Keith had already contacted the necessary parties in government to ensure no one investigated his role in Oliver’s demise. The repugnant man would soon be forgotten, no one caring he was no longer among the living since his parents were dead. Keith signaled his waiting men to dispose of Oliver, and he went abovestairs but to a guest chamber where he’d requested a bath. He didn’t want Lydia to see him with the inevitable blood splatter. But he should have known better than to think she would hide. She awaited him, naked. He stripped and soon joined her in the tub. He was truthful about what happened, knowing his wife could handle the gruesome tale. After all, he’d seen her shoot two men.
It wasn’t long before Keith’s storytelling ended, and they found more pleasurable ways to spend their time. As they moved together, Keith recalled seeing Lydia at Kelsey’s funeral. He’d been intrigued with the mystery woman. She still intrigued him, but she was no longer the enigma she’d once been. Instead, he called her wife.
“I love you,” they panted together as they embraced. Pleasure, love, and promise filled the air as the duke and his bluestocking bride enjoyed the peace-filled moment.