Chapter 8
CHAPTER 8
Cold Chamomile Tea
D iana had brushed her hair too many times. She slipped into her shifts, lay on the soft mattress, and blew out the candles. All in all, she had performed her nighttime routine, which had never failed to lull her into sleep. And yet she was still wide awake.
She had asked for a warm chamomile tea and then took her favorite book with her to bed. The warm blend tasted bitter, and her favorite words twirled around, making no sense. And she knew exactly why.
Him.
She couldn’t sleep because she was used to sleeping alone and she was no longer alone in the darkness. He was there with her—although not in body—in her bedroom, in her bed. It didn’t matter.
She could hear his voice, that dangerous purr. She could feel his breath on her face. And worst of all, she could still hear and feel his words.
“I could show you pleasure, My Lady. Real pleasure.”
She jumped out of bed faster than she would if it was on fire. The bed wasn’t. She was.
Days had passed. Days since she was backed up against that tree, its bark digging into her back. And somehow, she never left. Every time she was left alone, her mind would wander, and she would find herself back there. With him so close, his hand trapping her in place, his other hand touching her.
Almost touching her.
That was the thing, wasn’t it? He still hadn’t touched her. Not skin on skin, not without the gloves and the layers. Diana used to find the fact that they couldn’t be out without all those restrictions on their appearances stifling. But perhaps there was some merit to them. Because if his gloved touch nearly unraveled her, an actual touch would ruin her.
Get a hold of yourself!
She could not. It was as if there was a quiet lake inside her. A lake filled to the brim with want and desire, and she had done an amazing job of building a dam around it. A brilliant dam made of indifference and distance, of books and threads, of measured control and perfect composure.
And then he came along with his expressive blue eyes and his witty remarks, his massive body and his devilish smirk, and with one flick of his fingers, the dam burst out, pouring unknown feelings into her, making her ache .
This is his fault .
Diana picked an emotion out of the dangerous soup that was boiling in her heart and mind. And she chose anger. Yes, she was angry that she allowed him to manipulate her like that. She was not—would be not—one of the foolish ladies who let themselves be carried away by his polished charm.
Was she not?
“Argh!” Diana allowed herself one moment of wild emotion.
Then, she sighed and sat back on the bed. Whatever had happened, it mattered not. Whether he was manipulating her or truly interested in her was not important. The thing she needed to focus on was that whatever it was, whatever it did, it unveiled something within her. It unleashed a deep desire and begged a question she couldn’t ignore.
Why should she forsake pleasure because she rejected the notion of marriage? It wasn’t fair just because she was a woman, she was to remain untouched simply because she didn’t want to get married. Men like Lord Crawford could give into their desires and flaunt their rakish ways, but she had to eternally remain the picture of piety.
Never before did she question that cruel, unjust rule of Society. She simply accepted it. But now the seed was planted. The thing she chose to ignore was demanding attention.
Diana let her hand travel up her arm. Light, like a teasing feather touch. Nothing more. But there was a fleeting moment when her eyes fluttered shut and it was him touching her. The effect was so devastating that she moaned softly into the darkness. The sound woke her up, and she grabbed her head with both hands, shaking it as if she could empty it of such thoughts.
Once more, she climbed out of bed and went to the window, trying to distract herself from a path she didn’t dare tread. Did she?
Society dictated that her only purpose in life was to marry and bear children, and there she was, defying that notion already. What were a few more rules to be bend? If she were to remain unmarried, that didn’t mean she needed to remain untouched, did it? And who better to do that with than him ?
Before madness overtook her, she took a deep breath and rationalized as calmly as her shaking body allowed. A list. She could create a sensible list and mull over this with a level head.
Yes, that is the best idea.
Lord Crawford was perfect for the job. He had the experience, the audacity to propose it himself, and the emotional incapacity to demand anything more. He would perform admirably, deliver what he advertised, and then move on to the next conquest, with no attachments and no rash ideas of marriage. He would be discreet and efficient.
Oh, so efficient.
He was already worming his way into her head and he hadn’t even touched her. Yet.
If she were to make that reckless, wild decision, if she were to take a step down that irrevocable path, she somehow knew that he would take her to the edge and bring her back safely. She could allow him to show her pleasure, and then they would go on their way, having shared a fun memory.
A perfectly laid out plan!
Diana was finally able to sleep.
The Hexters’ ball was one of the most extravagant events of the Season, and no one was missing that. Diana was no exception. She was to be escorted by Herbert, since Stephen and Elizabeth had stayed behind.
“Does this mean you forgive me?” Herbert asked and patted the hand she had on his arm.
“It means there was no one else available.” Diana glared at him.
“How about your precious Elizabeth?”
“Are you seriously jealous of your sister-in-law?”
“You seem to like her more than me.”
“An affection she has won by—I don’t know—by her constant care not to humiliate me in public.”
Herbert smiled and kissed her cheek. He could be quite charming if he so wished.
Diana smiled back. She could not stay mad at him for too long. Plus, she had more pressing matters at hand.
She seemed determined and composed, that same posture she had perfected after years of training and observation. On the outside, she was the same Lady Diana everyone knew. An impenetrable castle of indifference to all the whispers and murmurs around her.
Especially now that she found herself out of the shadows where she usually hid.
She mingled with her hand wrapped around Herbert’s arm. But she was a fraud. Inside, she was anything but indifferent. She wasn’t there to enjoy the full orchestra Lady Hexter had brought from France solely for the ball. She wasn’t there to admire the acrobats that were dancing and swinging over the guests’ heads. Not even the mountain of chocolate truffles in the banquet hall.
No. She was a woman on a mission. She had a plan to set in motion. She had made a decision, and she was ready to act on it. But to do that, she needed to find him . He was an integral part of the said plan. By Jove, he was the one who initiated the whole thing.
But where was he?
Diana almost swore between clenched teeth.
It figured. The man was an insufferable flirt, trying her, testing the limits again and again, and now that she was finally crossing them, he was nowhere to be seen.
A rotten suspicion crept up her spine under her lilac dress. What if this was just a trick? He could have led her exactly where he wanted her to be, with his charm and his promises, his dark looks, and that devious smirk. All the perfect making of a trap that she willingly walked into. Only to mock her in the end.
Was this all a lie?
She had the gnawing feeling that she was the butt of a joke. That this was all nothing but an exercise in manipulation in which he excelled and she failed.
“Good evening, Lady Diana.”
Her back went rigid. He was there. With that annoyingly perfect timing that was most likely meant to throw her off.
“It sure was.” She turned around slowly.
He was looking at her with fascination.
“ Was ? I do not dare think I am the reason for that. No, it can’t be.” He seemed unfazed by her clipped answer. “Luckily, I am here to improve your mood.”
The look on his face was all fake politeness, and Diana was ready to unmask him in front of the swooning ladies.
“Lord Crawford!” Herbert was annoyingly giddy. He initiated a discussion with gusto. Diana guessed that it was trivial, judging by the way Lord Crawford’s attention was solely focused on her. He was still playing that game, that same game.
“Lady Diana.” Lord Hexter, their host’s eldest son, materialized before her. “May I ask for your first dance?”
He had been one of her visitors and the only one she did not find completely atrocious. She was ready to turn him down with a smile when she found her hand swallowed in a big, hot palm.
“I am afraid, Lord Hexter”—Lord Crawford was already pulling her to the dance floor—“Lady Diana has promised her first dance to me.”
Despite the loud music, his words carried far and wide, and everyone was now looking at them as he guided her through the other couples.
“Why did you do that?” she hissed.
“To spare you the effort of turning him down, of course.”
“And how, pray tell, did you surmise that I had no intention of dancing with him?”
He smirked and pulled her closer. He was a good, elegant dancer. That caught her unawares, seeing as his body was… big. But he seemed to be in control of it as well.
“How did I know you wouldn’t be caught dead with a bore like Hexter? It is simple. I was right there.”
“You are insufferable,” she said, but her words lacked that bite.
He said nothing, just led her through the dance elegantly and gracefully. His grip on her was firm but gentle, and while it had been years since she last danced, she let go in his arms.
“So, tell me, My Lady.”
He didn’t have to finish that sentence. She knew exactly what he was going to say. It was in the sensual way his word coiled around her, the way the word ‘ my’ rolled off his tongue.
Diana stumbled, but he caught her graciously and kept her steady.
“I see you have been thinking about my proposal.”
She was tempted to deny it and not give him the satisfaction. But she also knew it was fruitless. She could protest all night, whip him with all her wit, and spit some poison for good measure. But he would still know. So, she did the next best thing.
“Yes, I have reached a decision.”
“Oh, I knew you would.” His voice was so smooth.
“You seem overconfident, My Lord.”
“It is simply a matter of how things will unfold.” His eyes never left hers. “I always get what I want.”
Diana’s jaw clenched at his taunting smugness. But judging from the way he pressed closer, so dark and intense, the way his eyes traced her lips, he knew she was never going to deny him. She knew it too.
“It seems that you are very satisfied with yourself,” she said, unconvincingly annoyed.
“Speaking of satisfaction, My Lady…”
His hand slid around her waist, pulling her one fraction closer. Diana gasped.
“Oh, there it is. The answer I was waiting for,” he murmured, his voice rough.
There were no edges anymore. They had blurred long ago, and she wasn’t going to agonize over what-ifs. All that mattered was that she had a plan she wanted to put in motion. She had a need, a hunger that wouldn’t be sated by gloved touches and near kisses.
“Meet me at the library balcony,” she said as she bowed when the dance ended.
Diana walked away briskly, praying that she didn’t faint as she did. The match was thrown, and she wouldn’t be surprised if she looked back and found the ballroom in flames.
Diana prided herself on being a brave woman. She was a fierce equestrian, and she didn’t scream at the sight of a bug. She wasn’t afraid of heights or tight spaces. But on this small balcony, she was both dizzy and breathless. And she couldn’t tell if it was because of the anticipation of him coming or the dread of him not.
She looked at the small, enameled glass door for the millionth time, willing it to open and begging it to stay closed at the same time. The fear that they might get caught didn’t even get the chance to enter her wide roster of emotions.
Diana decided to focus on the dark gardens below. She knew this balcony well. As a young girl, she used to get lost in the estate and end up out here. It used to take everyone hours to find her. The Hexters had completely forgotten that they even had a library.
She chuckled at the thought and was grateful that her mind offered some relief at that moment, because she was going crazy. She could finally breathe and?—
The glass door creaked. She heard booted steps. Felt his body behind her.
“I am here, My Lady,” he whispered.
“You came.” She turned around slowly, thankful that he had kept some distance between them.
“There was no stopping me.”
It was true. As he stood a few inches away from her, he looked like an unstoppable force of nature. Even in the civilized restrictions they were meant to dwell, he emerged as an apex predator. Though this time, she didn’t feel like a poor prey. He was looking at her as if she were his sustenance.
He wasn’t just hungry for her. He was aching for her.
“So, My Lady, tell me, what do you need ?”
Her breath hitched. He had asked her to utter her desires. To speak them out loud. To shamelessly admit what she craved.
“If you do not tell me what you want, what you need, I can’t give it to you,” he said as he drew closer.
You , she wanted to scream. But she wasn’t ready to relent this easily.
She gathered the remnants of her self-control and lifted her chin. “There has to be terms. Rules.”
“Of course,” he taunted.
When he pushed her like that, she sparked. It was as if they were powder and fire.
“I want to know pleasure.” She looked him right in the eye.
His jaw twitched. He took one last step and closed the distance between them.
“But,” she continued, making him stop. “Our… lessons are to last for the five promenades.”
“Five promenades? You’d put a time limit on passion?”
“I am sure a skilled teacher such as yourself will manage.”
His eyes flicked to her lips before meeting hers again. The challenge was accepted. Her fate was sealed. He was upon her now, latched on, and he wasn’t going to let go.
He leaned, his hands resting on the rail, trapping her. He was not touching her, not yet, and somehow that absence made everything more intense.
He tilted his head as he inhaled her scent.
“I will agree to your terms, My Lady.” His breath was hot against her cheeks. “But…” Now, he was blowing on her neck. “I need to you ask properly.”
Diana almost didn’t hear his demand, caught in the steamy cocoon he had encased her in. Her mind rushed to keep up, and she was proud she managed to talk.
“I… I thought I just did.”
“Ah, My Lady,” he said as he studied her face. “You said you want to know pleasure.”
“I do.”
“Say what you really want,” he ordered.
That tone made her heart skip a beat. It was unrefined, raw, primal. It made her skin crawl with fear and something deeper, something darker, something rooted in the core of her being.
She knew the answer he was seeking.
“I want…” she muttered.
“Come on, say it,” he coaxed, his breath tickling her ear.
“I want…” She licked her lips.
“Say it, Diana.”
Her name on his lips undid her.
“I want you.”
His mouth was on hers the moment that last, fateful word left her lips. She broke, and now he was broken too. She could tell from the way he consumed her. It was hard and relentless, a kiss meant to shatter and ruin.
His whole body was vibrating with need. One hand found her waist, and the other cradled her face both reverently and firmly. He pressed her body to his, forcing her to feel exactly what she was doing to him. She was his now. She gave him permission to own her, and he was claiming her.
She gasped, but he wasn’t going to give her time to breathe. He deepened the kiss, tasting her, exploring her. It was a kiss meant to kill her softly, slowly, irrevocably. She was sure she would never recover from the softness of his lips, the tenderness of his tongue, the warmth of his arms, the firmness of his body.
If she was going to die, she was going to do so gloriously. She was going to enjoy this—deeply, truly. She let go. She got lost in the moment and leaned in to give him more access, her hands curling in the fabric of his coat. Heat coiled in the pit of her stomach and rushed through her veins as she kissed him back.
Dear Lord, she kissed him back.
A sound feral and savage rumbled in his chest as he pulled back and broke the kiss. His chest was heaving, his jaw was tense, and his hands were unsteady. His eyes met hers, and she knew that she had made a delicious, forbidden, dangerous mistake.
Oh God. What did I do?