Chapter 22
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
At Lydia’s behest, Alexander sat against the pillows beside her, almost touching but not quite as he gathered his thoughts and attempted to school them into some sort of sense.
“As you already know, I grew up here, at Halston Manor—err, York,” he began thoughtfully. “As did another girl, a year or so my junior. Her father was a country gentleman—a baron, perhaps? No one of note, certainly not to my father. But we fell in love.”
Lydia clasped her hands together. “You were young?”
“Yes. I suppose some would say it was an infatuation, and perhaps it was.” Time had rendered that part of himself a mystery; he could hardly have said if it would have died as he grew older, because their love never had a chance to.
“But at the time, we believed it to be real, and for us, it was. I said I would marry her, and all we needed to do was either gain my father’s permission or wait for my majority, at which point I would be at liberty to marry without his blessing.
Her father, you understand, was amenable to the match. ”
Her father had always hoped his daughter would marry above her station, and Helena had been sweet enough and beautiful enough that the prospect was an altogether likely one, even without having met him. But Alexander knew that he, as the son of a duke, was more than the ideal candidate.
“But… your father refused the match?” Lydia guessed, bringing him out of his thoughts.
“Yes. Of course he did. My father thought little of me except as his heir, and everything I did needed to act in support of that, as far as he was concerned.
A duke would not marry a nobody; he would have an arranged marriage with a lady befitting his station.
By defying him, I was revoking my right to be his son, in his eyes.
“He blamed Helena for my disobedience and believed that once I reached my majority, I would no longer wish to marry her. I was nineteen at the time.”
“Do you think you would have changed your mind?” Lydia asked softly.
“No,” Alexander answered honestly. “I think I loved her too much for that. And even if I stopped loving her as much, I had given her my word, and that mattered more than a passing fancy. I think if we had married, we would have contrived to be happy together.”
Lydia’s face tightened, and he wondered how she felt, hearing about his former love and the expectations he had for her.
“I suppose I cannot compete with her,” she breathed after a moment. “Because she is memory and I am flesh and blood.”
“The living can never compete with the dead.” Alexander took her hand again, holding it in both of his.
So small and delicate. “She died not a year later, and I vowed I would never marry another lady. In part from grief and guilt, and in part to spite my father, who considered her death to be a blessing in disguise. I never forgave him for that.”
“And you became Duke…”
“I did. I ended up with the power to make my own choices, but the only choice I wanted to make was taken from me.” He took a deep breath.
“And so I turned to… laudanum. A physician prescribed it to help me sleep, and after taking it daily for some time, it became a crutch. A… necessity. I lived for years in a daze. I-I don’t have memories.
When I met you, I was in the midst of my addiction.
I could not have been a husband to you then, even if I had wanted to. ”
“But you didn’t,” she murmured, sounding more curious than hurt. “Because of how you felt about marriage.”
“Your father asked me on his deathbed to provide for you by marriage. How could I refuse?” Especially knowing, as he did, that he had been the reason behind her father’s death.
There had been no means for him to escape that request, and so he had done his duty as far as he was able.
“I quit laudanum shortly before arriving here,” Alexander continued when she said nothing. “I suppose it was more than time. I told myself that I would annul the marriage and work on repairing my life as best I could. Be the duke my people needed me to be.”
“Sans wife.” Her lips curved in a small, humorless smile, but she slid her hand in his. “Are you ashamed?”
He knew she referred to his laudanum addiction. “Yes. What sort of man indulges in such weakness? Brandy eases it somewhat, but not enough.” Nothing was enough. “I suspect I will never stop wanting it. That is my burden to carry, Lydia.”
“It can be our burden,” she pressed softly. “All you have to do is trust me to be there.”
He looked down at the top of her head, tortured all over again.
She said that now, knowing some of it. She knew he had been dazed and half out of his mind when he’d met her for the first time, but she didn’t know it had been on the anniversary of Helena’s death, and that he was wandering the streets lost and alone when he accidentally stepped in the way of the viscount’s carriage.
She didn’t know that he had been the single reason behind her father’s death. That, yes, he had asked Alexander to take care of his daughter, but Alexander wouldn’t have listened if it weren’t for the fact that he was the sole person responsible for her plight.
She saw him as some kind of savior… but he had been the one to condemn her.
Would she be there if she knew everything?
“Trust me,” she breathed, and then she was over him, sliding one knee over his thighs and cupping his face in her hands. “I want to be here. I want to make this work. I want you…”
He gripped her hips. He ought to let her go, for her sake more than his. If he stayed, he needed to tell her the truth, but he couldn’t bear to tell her that truth, so he ought to leave.
It was the only conclusion that made sense.
The guilt bore down on him, even as his body responded to her proximity. His body had always been the first thing to betray him, reminding him how good it felt to have a woman, flesh and blood, in his arms.
And not just any woman. Lydia. He could love her if given the chance, he knew it.
He released a long breath.
“Lydia,” he sighed.
“Alexander.”
“What are you thinking?”
“What am I thinking?” She chuckled gently.
“I am thinking we are here, in a bed, and I know of nothing else I would like to do today.” Her eyes drifted half shut, heavy-lidded, and he hardened underneath her at the implication.
“I am… thinking, we should take advantage of the time we have and see if we can distract your mind from your cravings.”
She had begun to be his new craving. Still, he had to ask. “Are you certain that’s what you want?”
“Do you not?” Her gaze flashed to his, the lust in them fading as she frowned. “Because of Helena, do you not—”
He kissed her, not able to bear her finishing the sentence, unable to bear the thought of her insecurity when he wanted her the way he had never wanted Helena. Finally, he could admit it—as much as he had loved Helena, he had been a boy, and now he was a man.
Helena had been a girl, young and na?ve… but Lydia was a woman.
The two could not be compared.
Knowing he should have pulled away, he tugged her closer, opening her mouth with his. Immediately, Lydia’s body softened, and her mouth molded to his. At the first brush of his tongue, she shuddered, and when she shifted, she felt the press of his manhood.
“I cannot help wanting you…” He growled. “Even when I shouldn’t.”
It was only a hint of the tender feelings he had for her, but he couldn’t give her everything. He would let her see his desire—after everything, that was safe.
“Then take me,” she whispered against his mouth. “Make me yours in every way. I want to know how it is to be married to you.”
If he did this, there was no turning back. But she had started something in motion he could not undo; the force of his desire overrode every other temptation, and he kissed her again, more roughly this time, more needily.
He could have this one day with her, locked in her bedchamber. They could have this, at least.
He didn’t think he could leave without being inside her at least once…
No laudanum in the world would be enough to quell his cravings for her.
She only wore a simple nightgown, and he cupped her breast over it, feeling the way her nipple pearled into his palm.
She whimpered. Already, she was needy, her hips moving against his as though seeking friction.
He gripped her hip with one hand, guiding her over his cock so she rolled her core against that instead.
The less refined part of him—all man, all lust—desired to rip the nightgown from her, but he resolved to try and do better.
For her sake, if nothing else. He ought to make this good.
And so he teased her over the top of her nightgown, circling her nipples, squeezing her breasts in time with every gyration of her hips.
He kissed her jaw, her neck, and even bent his head so he could suck at her breasts, turning the material damp.
The dusky pink of her nipples showed through, and she could have been an erotic work of art.
If only he could capture this moment in his memory forever; the way her breath grew heavy as she moved, the way her nightgown clung to her, the delicious curves of her breasts, revealing just enough to keep him fascinated.
She was a goddess. And just for now, she was his…
“Enough,” she panted, scrabbling for purchase at her hem. “Enough of this.”
“Impatient, my sweet?” His amusement curled around the words.
“Yes!” She tugged the hem still higher, over her thighs, then higher still.
And even though he’d had the privilege of seeing her fully bare before, the sight still struck him a little dim.
The thick, dimpled flesh of her upper thighs, the curve of her hips, the softness of her lower stomach.
So many places for his hands to rediscover.
“Please, Alexander…” she pleaded breathily.
“I’ve been waiting for so long. Don’t make me wait any longer… ”
He could not have resisted her then if he’d tried.
With a groan, he rolled them so she was under him, now, her legs spread to accommodate him, her nightgown caught on the underside of her breasts.
Her eyes were wide, her skin flushed, and she watched him with anticipation as he finally removed the nightgown himself, tangling her hair around her head.
“You are perfect,” he told her.
“And you,” she breathed, gathering herself enough to smile, “are still wearing all your clothes.”
“Would you like to rectify that?” He took her hand, bringing it to the buttons of his waistcoat. “Have you ever undressed a man before?”
“You know I haven’t.”
“Then undress me.” He sat back, his blood heating still further at the idea of her small hands all over him, learning him, revealing him to her one item of clothing at a time.
Biting her lip, Lydia sat up, her attention fully fixed on his body.
She came to her knees and unbuttoned his waistcoat with infuriating slowness.
Even so, he held himself still, letting her remove it from his arms and put it to one side.
Then she addressed herself to his cravat, ruined after sleeping in it, and tossed that aside too.
After some consideration, she pulled his shirt free and over his head, pausing to examine his torso with the same hunger she had shown in the bath. He stayed as still as he could, though he ached for her. This was new for her, and he wanted everything to happen at the speed she needed it to.
Everything had to be just right for her. That was the least he could do.
Finally, she raised her gaze to his, her face wondering in the dawn light. “You are so… beautiful,” she whispered.
The words were unexpected. And hit him in a way he could never have anticipated. His chest tightened. “As are you.”
She looked down at her body as though seeing it for the first time. “Do you think so?”
“Yes.” His voice was hoarse. He took her wrist, and after a glance at her face to ensure she felt comfortable with this, he brought her dainty hand to his arousal, placing her so she palmed him.
“Here,” he gritted, forcing the words out, and forcing himself, equally, to remain still so she might feel him fully.
The last time—
But he would not think about the last time. This time, they were coming together anew.
“It is because of you,” he explained, in case she truly didn’t comprehend the magnitude of her attraction to him. “I’m this aroused because of you, Lydia. And I would very much like to experience everything with you.”
Her eyes lit up at that, and she explored with more confidence, running her hands up and down his shaft, reaching below to cup his balls, all through the material of his breeches.
She would drive him mad! And he would embrace his insanity, because he knew of no greater torture, or bliss, than this.
Her gaze flicked back to his face. “You like this,” she observed.
“I do.”
Slowly, still with her gaze on his, she tugged at the buttons of his falls, opening them, then slowly removing them from him.
He helped her tug them free, and then they were both naked together, kneeling on the bed, chest to chest. Her sweet pink nipples grazed his skin, and he felt the action right to his cock.
He was painfully hard; it would take shockingly little to bring him to the brink.
And so he decided he would first devote himself to her. More than anything, he wanted to see her come, squirming and writhing as he brought about her pleasure…
“I want you,” he whispered to her, and pushed at her shoulders until she lay on her back, legs instinctively spreading. But instead of fitting his hips between them, he lowered his shoulders there instead. “And I’m going to taste every inch of you until you beg me to stop…”
“What if… what if I never want you to stop?”