Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
The Dowager’s stories kept Agnes in high spirits for the rest of the afternoon and still made her laugh as she recalled them on her way to the stables.
She really would never have thought that as a child, Silas would be a walking disaster, given how put together he was now.
But it felt good to know that he had once been endearing and potentially still could be.
She still had no clue how their future would pan out – particularly given how things had been between them.
But she had begun to toy with the idea of having hope, wanting more from their arrangement.
Her sisters were her top priority, but if she had to get a husband before she could be able to reach them, would it not be better to make the most of who it was she would be attaining?
It felt as though she had heard that she needed to get married without fully understanding what that meant, without caring.
And that oversight had made it easy for walls to grow between them because she had never been interested in anything else.
Now, she was curious about Silas. She had put a face to his name and, after that, added his touch and taste into the collection of things she knew about him.
He went from being a… concept to someone she had spoken to, someone who had tended to her when she had been injured, someone who had distracted her from her sorrows.
Silas was an enigma she wanted to unravel. She only hoped that he would let her.
Simon was in the stable brushing a horse – which she recognized moments later as Outlaw, the horse she had ridden alongside Silas and Scar a few days ago – and his face lit up at the sight of her. He bowed quickly, rising with a smile that made her want to pat his cheek.
“Good evening, my lady,” he greeted in the gentle way he always did.
“Good evening, Simon. How are you?” she smiled at him, reaching out to stroke the stallion’s mane.
“I am well, thank you.” he paused, then added with a grin. “I’m getting excited for the competition. It is nearly here, and Scar has been doing really well! He is going to stun everyone in attendance.”
She shared his enthusiasm easily, grinning as she replied, “Absolutely. I believe so, as well. He was born to be a star, and that is precisely what he will be on the day of the competition. I really can’t wait to watch him show just what he is made of.”
He beamed at her and moved, likely to saddle Scar for her, but stopped when she placed her hand on his shoulder.
“I’ll handle that,” she told him, holding out a napkin, in the middle of which sat a blueberry muffin. “Here. I brought you a treat as a little thank you. You have helped me so much, and I do not think I’ve ever expressed how grateful I am.”
His eyes widened at the sight of the muffin, and it seemed as though it took every ounce of strength he possessed to look away from it and up at her.
“My lady, you thank me every day. All the time when you return Scar to the stable and even when you retrieve him for a training session. I am glad to be of help to you, really. But…” he glanced at the pastry in her hand and swallowed. “I should not eat when I am working. It would not be proper.”
Agnes did not relent, keeping her hand extended out to him as she spoke.
“I know you have probably not had anything besides breakfast today, Simon. You should eat more. Everyone in the house – myself and the grumpy Duke included – all care for you. We would be devastated if you were to fall ill due to malnutrition.” She raised her hand a little higher so the pastry could be at his eye level.
“It’s nice and warm – straight out of the oven. You should eat it before it gets cold.”
Wordlessly, he collected it, and she smiled, giving into the urge to pat his head gently as she moved to saddle Scar.
The horse seemed eager to leave the stables that evening, practically walking ahead of Agnes as she led him out.
The warm-up movements between trots and canters went by quickly, and soon, they were practicing their jumps.
Scar had really learned a lot faster than she had expected him to once he had gotten comfortable with the early stages of the training.
Now, he could easily clear a height of two bales of hay, one stacked on top of the other.
Not to mention his incredible speed when it came to racing.
Simon had told her he was the fastest among the other horses, and it showed in how quickly he made his way across the expanse of land on which the mansion sat.
Undoubtedly, Scar was a force to be reckoned with, and Agnes had no doubt that he would make them proud on the day of the competition.
For a bit, she put Scar through the basics of a new trick – the last of which he would be learning for the competition.
It would also help strengthen his balance after his jumps, and she thought it would be a nice way to round things up.
They took breaks in between, leaving Scar to drink some water and nibble on some grass while she went over some of his progress with Simon.
The stable boy had a keen eye for details at his age, and with his love for horses, he was attuned to their strengths and weaknesses and was able to make suggestions on how to make certain tasks easier for Scar to grasp.
When the sun began to set, Agnes felt they had accomplished enough for the day and turned Scar around to head back to the stables.
She had almost arrived at it when she felt an overwhelming urge to look up.
Slowly – mostly out of curiosity – Agnes raised her head and felt her heart skip a beat at what she saw.
Silas was standing by the window of his study, staring intently at her.
She wanted to believe otherwise because there was no reason to call it as it was. He had barely spoken to her since their afternoon out, and while he did not seem as cold as before, there were no further shared moments to fuel her delusions of his interest in her.
So… why was he looking at her like that?
He raised his hand and pointed to her, then beckoned her with the same finger. She frowned, thinking of his actions.
He wants me to come to him? Why?
Her eyes widened in panic. Had she done something wrong? Was he really upset and likely to call off the wedding?
“Do not spend the whole evening there. If you make me wait too long, I will be angry!” he shouted at her.
Quickly, she dismounted and handed the reins to Simon before gathering her skirts in her hands and making her way inside. When she arrived at Silas’ study, she was breathless and uneasy, practically shaking.
In a bid to calm herself, she inhaled deeply and exhaled.
Then, she reached out and knocked on the door.
Silas cleared his throat and called her into his study, a little taken aback by how demure she seemed as she came in. Agnes walked in, eyes to the floor as she curtsied, and he gestured for her to stand before his desk, impressed when she did as he asked without a fuss.
Oh, he realized momentarily after noticing her trembling fingers sitting in her lap. She thinks I am upset with her.
That was far from the truth, but Silas had never been one to let go of the opportunity to catch someone off guard, and so, he schooled his expression to feed into her fears.
“How are the wedding preparations going?” he questioned, his tone cold.
“Very well, Your Grace. Nearly everything is in place, and it should go quite seamlessly,” she told him quickly.
He nodded. “And Scar’s training? Has he been doing well?”
At the mention of his horse, she seemed to relax a bit, clearly excited to talk about her favorite pastime.
“He has been doing remarkably well! He is an excellent horse – brilliant, not to mention a fast learner. He has picked up everything I’ve made an effort to teach him really quickly, and I believe he can easily win the competition,” she explained.
Silas nodded wordlessly, staring at her intently. Perhaps it was his lack of vocal response. Perhaps it was his gaze. Silas was not sure which, but something was making her squirm, painting her cheeks so red, he wondered if his fingers would pick up the stain if he ran them over her skin.
Slowly, he stood and walked over to where she was, stopping a mere breath away before he softly asked,
“How can I repay you?”
She shook her head, flustered.
“That is not necessary, Your Grace –”
“I insist,” Simon pressed gently. “Tell me what you want.”
Her blush seemed to darken even more, and her lips parted as she attempted and failed to get a request across, a sight that made her seem ridiculously pretty at that moment. Eventually, she huffed in frustration and started,
“M-My sisters. I want –”
But the itch had returned, stronger than ever, and this time, he was willing to give into it.
He closed the distance between them, brushing his lips over hers gently at first to test the waters, and when her hands immediately curled into his shirt, he deepened the kiss.
She trembled in his arms, kissing him back with a fervor that spurred him on, urging him to relinquish every doubt he might have had in his mind.
Agnes smelled divine, somehow embodying the scent of his favorite things – hay and berries – and he wanted to bury himself in it, nibbling her lower lip hungrily and sliding his tongue into her mouth.
She moaned into his as he devoured her will to resist, knees buckling as warmth pooled between her legs.
This was much different from last time. Now, they were both ready to toss themselves into the fire, uncaring of the damage it could incur, chasing the desire that had already been burning them long before this moment.
Silas held onto her as his mouth moved down her slender throat, lapping at the soft skin as he kissed and marked it, unable to part himself from the salty-sweet taste she embodied.
“Si – Your G-Grace…” she mumbled, gasping when he lifted her off her feet, carrying her to sit atop his desk.
He kissed her again, setting off a wild, sharp need in her, swallowing every sound she made, gradually reducing her to ruins and consuming her.
His hands roamed over her body, keeping her pressed close to him before kneading her supple flesh beneath her garments, aching to be rid of the fabric that kept his touch from burning her skin.
He reached behind her habit and undid a few buttons, just enough to allow him to slip the top of the dress down her shoulders and reveal the alluring swell of her breasts.
Silas trailed kisses down to the delicious-looking mounds, one hand cupping at one of the round and full mounds, and the other moved to grip her bottom, groaning at the feel of her perfect, soft curves.
Agnes felt breathless, still desperately desiring more, needing him to mark and taint her – wanting all that he could give her.
She clutched at his shoulders, falling apart as his lips left a searing kiss on her skin while his hands squeezed and caressed her.
She could not think, knew nothing outside of this moment, and she did not mind, prepared to give all of her if he wished it.
Silas gripped at the skirts of her habit and pulled them up to her waist, exposing her legs, momentarily taking the time to marvel at the smooth expanse of skin.
She shivered as he ran his hands over them, and he smirked, wondering if a time would come when he would be able to claim as much of her as he desired.
He kissed her again, slow and coaxing, drawing a whine out of her as his hand moved between her legs, beneath the folds of fabric, and into her wet heat.
She gasped, shaking as her hand came up to grab at his wrist, eyes wide. Silas leaned in to claim her lips, softly and slowly nudging her to trust him.
“Let me take care of you,” he whispered to her lips between kisses, humming in approval when she let go of his hand, returning the grip to his shoulder.
Silas dipped a finger in casually, smirking when she instantly began to shake, overcome with the sudden urge to destroy her completely but forcing himself to remain true to his goal.
This was mostly for her benefit than his, after all.
He reached further, fingers stroking and petting her, sending Agnes into shivers of ecstasy beneath him.
His touch explored as much as he pleased, working into her in a slippery, aching manner that ignited something in the depths of her stomach.
She pressed a hand to her mouth to keep her moans at bay, shivering as he nibbled at the underside of her jaw.
Agnes nearly screamed when he found her nub and began to work it, the perfect pressure unraveling her senses and urging her toward the darkness.
“Y-Your Grace –”
“My name,” he said softly, too soft compared to how insistently his fingers worked and teased her folds. “Call me by my name.”
“Silas,” she gasped, arching into him as she got closer and closer to the point of no return, desperate for the release it promised to provide.
Silas guided her there, curving his fingers to stroke her deep and slow, applying pressure that overwhelmed her senses and set her body ablaze with pleasure.
Agnes stiffened when it hit, holding onto him as the tremors set it, gasping as her body caved to the sensation that washed over her repeatedly.
He held her through it, stroking her hair and whispering that she had done well until she melted against him, sated and satisfied.
When she calmed down, he fixed her clothes and pressed a small kiss to her lips, chuckling at the dazed expression on her face.
“There. This will be your reward – payment, if you will – for all that you are doing.”
Agnes frowned in worry, reaching out to grab his hand and keep him from walking away.
“But – my sisters. You promised –”
“That was an initial clause in our deal. I am adding another; every time Scar finishes a training session excellently, I will reward you afterward,” he reached out to caress her cheek, his heart-tugging as she leaned into his touch while he murmured. “Like this.”
She looked as though she heard him but was having a hard time understanding, and he had no reservations about allowing her to take as much time as she needed, winking at her before leaving the study.