Chapter 26
William could not hold back any longer. He did not know what time it was, nor how long he had spent indulging his wife, with her indulging him in return, but he was swiftly unraveling with every measured stroke. And as she had reached her conclusion at least thrice, he figured she would not mind if he enjoyed his own.
Sweeping her legs up onto his shoulders, gazing deeply into her eyes, he finally relinquished his restraint. He thrust with glorious abandon, spurred on by her cries of encouragement, and as he bent forward to kiss her, he stilled inside her. He moaned against her mouth, thrusting once more before he shuffled off her legs and collapsed on top of her.
He smiled into her neck as she wrapped herself around him, kissing his shoulder softly.
“That definitely was not in my book,” she said quietly, sighing with complete satisfaction.
“At least I now know where you learned how to be a minx,” he replied, nuzzling her throat. “If I have a spare moment, you shall have to tell me which books you prefer so that I may make a thorough study of them. For your benefit, of course.”
She laughed, running her hand up the back of his neck. “I am mortified.”
“Whatever for?” He pulled back to look at her. “Why, I have half a mind to write to these unseemly authors and thank them for the inspiration.”
She blushed furiously, refusing to meet his eyes. “You are going to tease me for this, are you not?”
“I have nothing to tease you for,” he told her, quite serious. “You are a revelation, kitten. A continuous surprise that I cannot resist.”
She finally met his gaze. “As are you.”
“So, there is to be no punishment for my exhaustive dismantling of your rule?” He grinned, but she did not smile back immediately.
Instead, her brow creased a little, as if she were in pain or deep contemplation. Her mouth opened as if she were about to say something, but she closed it again and shook her head.
“There is to be no punishment,” she said, at last. “I gave you permission, so you cannot be blamed.”
“And did you enjoy yourself?”
That smile he craved finally broke across her face. “Perhaps too much. I am worried we might have awakened the entire household.”
“Nonsense. Even if we did, they would pretend they have heard nothing,” William told her, flashing a wink. “You will find out soon enough, I suppose, depending on whether or not they can look you in the eye tomorrow.”
“Stop!” Lydia cringed, chuckling as she did so. “I shall never leave this room if you say that.”
William grinned. “I would not mind that.” He paused, caressing her cheek. “Although, you might be more comfortable in your chambers. Or mine. Whichever you prefer.”
“We could leave the door open,” she said. “That way, neither of us has to decide.”
He kissed her brow. “I like the sound of that.”
To his surprise, he found that he meant it, just as he liked the feeling of holding her in his arms and knowing that she was his. After what they had just enjoyed together, he realized that nothing else would ever compare.
He would never want anything or anyone as much as he wanted her. Even now, he knew he would have been perfectly content to curl up with her on the settee and sleep, which was something he had never done before. To sleep side by side with someone felt awfully intimate, yet he longed for it.
“Shall we retire, kitten?” he whispered.
She nodded shyly. “As long as we avoid any of the servants who might still be awake.”
“Oh, I am certain they will make themselves scarce.” He got up and grabbed her petticoat from where he had tossed it.
With a mischievous grin, he wrapped the fabric around his waist and then pulled her up onto her feet, draping her in a blanket. She seemed confused at first, yelping as he scooped her up into his arms and carried her out of the library.
“Someone will see!” she whispered desperately, kicking her legs.
“This is your home, kitten. Our home. We may do as we please, and they will see more if you keep kicking like that,” he teased, carrying her down the barely lit hallways to the stairs.
He carried her all the way up to their adjoining bedchambers, choosing to use her doorway. But as he set her down on the edge of the bed, he made a point of going to the adjoining door to open it wide in a symbolic gesture before he joined her in her bed.
“Come to me,” he said as he shuffled down beneath the coverlets and held his arm out to her.
She frowned before rolling her eyes and snuggling beside him. He wrapped his arm around her, smiling as she rested her head on his chest and draped her leg over his.
She was asleep within minutes, her breathing soft and steady, holding onto him as if he were of great comfort to her. He admired her peaceful expression, but as he closed his eyes and tried to sleep, his mind saw fit to begin racing, bombarding him with thoughts that were only now creeping in.
The woman in his arms, the wife curled up next to him, was becoming precious. He should have left her in her chamber and gone to his own, putting that barrier between them, but he had been driven by a compulsion akin to madness to ensure that he slept beside her. Now, he regretted it, for the longer he held her, the longer he became accustomed to that feeling, the more he would wish for it.
This is perilous, indeed. I should have abided by her rule. I should not have allowed myself to break it.
But the damage was done in that department, and making love to her had left an imprint on him that he could not erase. It had shadowed the edges of his vision, making it impossible to see anything but her—a vignette of his heart’s desire, not merely his body’s desire.
He had thought—mistakenly—that making love to her would quell his desire altogether, for the chase had always been what spurred him on. Yet, it had done the opposite.
Making love to her made him want to make love to her again and again for the rest of his life, forsaking all others as his vows had suggested. Making love to her made him want to be a proper husband to her, beyond convenience.
His eyes flew wide, a bristling sort of panic ricocheting across his chest.
It will pass… It has to pass. It is just… the novelty.
But even as he thought it, it echoed falsely in his mind. If it was going to pass, it would have done so already. It certainly would not have urged him to hold his wife closer, kissing her brow, worried that when he awoke, he would discover that it was all a dream, and he was still on his way to Stonebridge from London.
Lydia stretched out, smiling to herself as she stirred to the bright caress of morning sunlight across her face. She had woken up plenty of times after glorious dreams and smiled to herself that way, but there was something different about that morning because the dream had not been a dream. It had been real. She had finally had her wedding night, and goodness, it had been worth the wait.
“Will?” she murmured, patting the pillow beside her.
She cracked an eye open when her hand did not find him.
Frowning, she sat up and drew her legs to her chest, frowning at the spot where he had been. There was a slight impression on the pillow, and the coverlets had been disturbed, but there was no way of knowing what time he had abandoned her bed, or if he would be back. Perhaps he had gone to request breakfast or had gone to tend to something, deciding to be kind and let her sleep.
The adjoining door was still open, and it drew her from the warmth of the bed. She tiptoed toward it and peered through, calling out his name again. There was no reply, though his bed did not look like it had been slept in, which soothed her somewhat.
That was when she saw it—a card resting against the water basin, the word ‘kitten’ elegantly etched on the front of it.
She picked it up and turned it over, all of her worries dissipating as she read the words he had left for her.
You looked too peaceful to disturb. Rest well, wife of mine. Meet me at the lake when you rise. I am preparing a picnic breakfast for us.
Yours,
Wolfie.
She did not know how a single word could hit her heart as hard as any punch, but those five letters that formed ‘yours’ were so powerful that her breath hitched. She had not had much time to think before she fell asleep in her husband’s arms, but she had hoped that their evening together had changed things. And that word confirmed it.
He was hers. He had decided to be hers. No overwrought, overlong confession could have compared.
“Thank goodness I did not ask for an annulment,” she whispered, grinning from ear to ear as she pressed the card to her chest.
“Did you say something, Your Grace?”
Lydia jumped in fright, whirling around to find Beth standing in the doorway. The maid smiled and stepped further into the room, making a show of setting down a small pile of garments.
“Oh… goodness, you did not have to do that. I was on my way to… um… to…”
Words failed Lydia as she stared at the incriminating clothes, trying her best not to remember every detail of how Will had disrobed her, for she would surely turn beetroot red.
Beth stifled a chuckle. “My ma found them and took them straight to the laundry. She was making sure you didn’t fall asleep in the library again, I reckon, but it seems you found your way back to your chambers.”
“I did, yes,” Lydia said hurriedly, feeling the heat creep into her face.
Beth stood there for a moment with her hands on her hips, wearing the proudest smile. It was not quite what Lydia had expected, for she had anticipated awkward encounters and servants who were unable to meet her gaze, yet Beth looked overjoyed.
“You’re so good for him, Your Grace,” Beth sighed. “He was whistling this morning when he came to ask for a picnic breakfast. Whistling! He’s not a sullen creature by any means, but none of us have seen him so happy in a long time. Truth be told, I don’t know that I’ve ever seen him so happy at all.”
Lydia’s cheeks flooded with warmth but for a different reason. Beth’s joy and pride were somewhat contagious, and as Lydia thought back to the words on the note and the promise of a morning spent together with no threat of him running off again, she could not help but feel overjoyed too.
“I hope it stays that way,” she managed to mumble, drinking in the bright sunlight and the scent of woodsmoke that lingered in the bedchamber. The scent of him. The scent of her Captain Kildare.
Beth nodded. “I know it will. I can feel it in my bones.” She straightened up, her smile unwavering. “Now, we’d best get you ready for this breakfast His Grace has arranged. Something light, I think, in case you decide to go swimming. It’s a fine day for it, and His Grace loves to swim.”
“He does?” Lydia’s eyes widened.
There are so many things I still do not know about him, but… perhaps now I will have the chance to discover them all.
Her heart swelled at the prospect, and she held that precious card closer, wondering how all of her efforts to sever the marriage had somehow come to this. How her hopes for an annulment had transformed into hope for a happy future with him instead of apart. There was an irony to it, in truth, that she did not mind at all.
“Yes,” she said, her heart full. “Something light. I am tired of all those elaborate gowns.”
Beth laughed. “I don’t blame you, Your Grace.”
Twenty minutes later, Lydia was running along the landing, hitching up her skirts so that she would not trip. She had not stopped smiling, daydreaming about the life she might have now that her husband had decided that he might like being around her, after all. Indeed, the fact that he had arranged a picnic breakfast for them was a promising sign of happier days ahead.
She tore down the stairs and across the entrance hall, skidding to a halt to open the main door. She was about to run out onto the porch and down to the driveway when a sight brought her to a sharp standstill. A curricle was pulling up to the front of the house.
Shielding her eyes from the sun’s glare with her hand, Lydia looked at the two passengers—a driver and a young woman holding something in her arms. She put on a smile and headed down the steps, hoping to divert the visitors as quickly as possible so she could run on to meet her husband by the lake.
“Good morning to you,” she said with a polite wave.
The woman glanced at her, a look of relief flashing across her face. “Good morning to you,” she replied as the curricle came to a halt. “Apologies for the intrusion, but I was hoping I might speak with the Duke.”
She spoke well, her tone clipped in the manner of high society, but Lydia did not recognize her. Nevertheless, the woman had the demeanor of a high-born lady—the wife of a business associate, perhaps?
Lydia hesitated. “Is there anything that I might help you with? The Duke is otherwise engaged, at the moment.”
“Oh…” The young woman shifted the large bundle in her arms, revealing a baby girl. The child must have been asleep, but the movement stirred her, and her big eyes slowly blinked open.
“No, thank you,” the woman continued. “It is just that… I have brought his daughter, so it is really rather urgent that I see him.”
Lydia stared at the woman, and all of her soaring hopes plummeted to the ground, smashing to pieces along with her heart.