Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
“Follow me,” he said as he took her hand and guided her down a set of concealed stairs on the right side of the balcony, twisting down to the verdant lawns.
The air in the moonlit garden seemed to thicken, the noise of the ballroom fading into a distant hum.
They approached a stone bench near a great oak tree, which he had her sit on. She looked up at him, seeing not the stiff, stuffy Duke or the scarred bachelor spoken of in only whispers, but the man who had held her while she crumbled.
For tonight, she would let him be her rock. The fear that usually guarded her heart like a fortress suddenly felt flimsy and far away.
“Kiss me,” she whispered, pulling him down next to her.
It wasn’t a request, but a soft, desperate command born of a hunger she could no longer deny herself or him.
William didn’t waste a second. He sat down beside her and closed the distance between them, his mouth finding hers with a ferocity that spoke of weeks of repressed longing.
It was a passionate collision, a tasting of salt and silk and shared heat.
Their tongues dueled, and the kiss became hungrier, messier.
Anne let out a low moan when his mouth found her earlobe, her fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him closer until there was no air left between them.
Sensing her surrender, William’s hands began to roam. He turned her gently in his arms until her back was pressed firmly against the solid breadth of his chest.
The contrast was staggering, the cool night air on her skin and the heat of him at her spine. He pulled down her bodice ever so slightly, letting the night air kiss her pink nipples. She whimpered at the sensation.
He palmed her breasts from behind, massaging them as he groaned, and then found the soft peaks that hungered for his touch. He gently pinched them before removing his hands to lick the tips of his fingers and then returning to them.
The combination of his wet touch and the cool night air was more than Anne could take. She began to rock her hips until her backside was pressed against his hardness. Like all parts of him, it felt so big.
He leaned down and kissed her neck, his lips trailing hot, searing kisses along the sensitive curve and down the slope of her shoulder.
“Anne,” he rasped, his breath tickling her skin.
His hands, calloused and large, slid from her breasts down her waist, gathering the emerald-green silk of her skirts.
Her breath hitched, her head falling back against his shoulder as his fingers found the sensitive skin of her thighs. She let him hold her, for fear she would crumble without him to steady her. He inched her skirts further up, baring her sex.
“I cannot!” she whimpered, the fear of what this would lead to seizing her.
“Listen to me. This is only about you, and nothing else. Relax and let go. You need this, Duchess,” he whispered as he began to stroke her with one finger. “You are exquisite. Much as this is for you, I will be thinking of this more than you will know.”
“William…” she moaned as he continued to slide his finger up and down her folds until he added a second one. “Ah!”
He slid his fingers up and down before finding her bud, applying the perfect amount of pressure until she felt the world would shatter around her.
Then, his other hand found her entrance, not pushing in with force.
He moved his fingers up and down her slick folds with expert motion, then slipped a finger right inside.
He began pushing his finger in and out, and she got used to the sensation, letting her body adjust to him.
“You are so wet, so ready for more. May I—”
“William—”
“Taste you,” he finished, and she sighed. She hadn’t expected that.
The world narrowed to the feel of his mouth on her throat and the rhythmic, expert pressure of his hand. It was an inexplicable pulse of pleasure, a mounting tension that made her knees weak.
She gripped the bench for support, her eyes fluttering shut as the stars above seemed to spin. Every stroke of his thumb, every graze of his teeth against her pulse, pushed her further away from her guarded, anxious self and deeper into a raw, visceral reality.
“Can I taste you, Anne? I am so hungry for you, my beautiful wife,” he sighed as he kissed her hard on the mouth.
“Haven’t you already kissed me—”
“Not your mouth,” he growled then, almost impatient as he stroked her harder. “I need to taste this. Now. Can you let me do that?”
“I cannot imagine… why would you want to—”
“I need to taste you, my sweet,” he barked. “You will give me what I need. Won’t you? I think you need it as much as I do,” he said as he thrust two fingers back inside of her, and she bucked her hips up to meet him.
“Yes, oh please,” she cried.
After he rose, William kneeled before her and placed his hands on either side of the bench. He lowered his head reverently between her thighs and lapped at her. His thumb returned to stroking her bud as he began to suck, lick, and thrust his fingers into her.
The stars in the sky seemed to be falling around them as she cried out for more.
“All for you, Anne,” he rasped against her sensitive flesh.
For a few shimmering minutes, there was no past, no duty, and no fear of the future. Anne could only focus on the heat of his touch, the sight of him kneeling before her.
Just as she felt she had experienced every sense of pleasure known to mankind, he thrust his tongue deep inside of her and swirled.
She bucked her hips up without knowing, needing more.
He moved his mouth back to her soft bud and sucked hard, taking two fingers once more and sliding them inside of her.
He thrust them in and out, harder than she thought she could enjoy, somehow needing more.
He continued sucking until her breath grew heavy and her lids saw stars as she closed her eyes tight.
“I feel like I am going to unravel,” she cried out.
“Then, do it for me,” he said as he looked up at her, then sucked once more until she truly fell apart.
“Oh, William,” she cried out as she brought her hands to her cheeks, wiping tears she didn’t know had come from all she had felt.
“Say it again,” he said as he looked up at her, a grin of satisfaction on his face.
“William,” she sighed.
When she came back down from her high, he was smoothing down her skirts and adjusting his breeches, clearly in need of release. Yet, he said nothing of the matter, which only made her ache for him more.
“I do not know if I can face the ton after that,” she laughed, her hands coming up to her cheeks once more, which felt so hot. “Do I look all right?”
“You look… exquisite,” William murmured, his blue eyes dark as a midnight sky.
“But perhaps it is best, just this once, that we make an unusual exit. From the looks of it, we can go around the estate and return to the main entrance. From there, we can have our carriage brought around, and none shall be the wiser.”
“I did not take you for such a schemer. Do you have much experience in such—”
“No.”
“Well, I appreciate the thought. Shall we?” Anne said as William helped her rise to her feet. And guided her across the lawn.
They walked in silence to the front of the townhouse, and as William predicted, it was easy enough with the comings and goings of other guests to exit unnoticed.
Within a few moments, they were safely tucked in their carriage, her head heavy against the velvet cushions as the London townhouses began to blur and her eyes drooped.
Anne thought she was dreaming. She felt a strong man carrying her up a set of stairs, as if she were a princess in an old fairytale. She blinked her eyes open and saw William looking down at her.
“This is most unexpected,” she croaked, holding on tighter.
“You fell asleep in two seconds. I did not have the heart to wake you. I’ll… I’ll put you down now.” He set her down before the front door.
“Thank you,” she said as she landed on her feet, a bit wobbly from sleep and everything she had experienced that night.
The butler opened the door, and Mrs. Alderton approached them.
“Good evening,” Mrs. Alderton greeted, a wry smile crossing her face. “I trust the event was successful?”
“Yes,” they said much too quickly and, to Mrs. Alderton’s clear shock, in unison.
“We will be retiring for the evening,” William added, his voice rising an octave that he covered with a rough cough.
“Very well, Your Graces.” Mrs. Alderton gave a nod. “Shall I send up a lady’s maid to help you prepare for bed, Your Grace?” she asked Anne.
“I will manage,” Anne whispered.
“Sleep well, Your Graces. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight…” Anne trailed off.
They walked up the stairs, her heart rate quickening with each step. She thought of the way William’s strong muscles felt against her, of his fingers inside her. Heat pooled low in her belly.
His shadow loomed over her as they reached the top.
“Thank you,” she said as they walked down the long hallway, unsure of where the night would go from there.
“Do not thank me,” he rasped.
Suddenly, he pinned her against the wall. He braced his hand beside her head and leaned in, pressing himself against her. He lowered his head to her heaving chest, a smoldering look in his eyes.
“I could hear you moan all night long, Duchess.”
“I… I…”
“What is it, Anne?”
“You can’t be serious.”
“Have you known me to be anything but?”
“Well, no, but—”
“I assure you, I enjoyed that as much as you did. Perhaps more.”
Anne’s throat tightened, a thick, suffocating lump forming as she tried to swallow.
The air in the hallway had suddenly thinned, leaving her lungs straining for a breath that wouldn’t come. She squeezed her eyes shut, the darkness behind her lids offering no respite from his gaze. She pressed her trembling hands to her eyes.
When she heard the soft scuff of his boots retreat, she dropped her hands. Then, when his bedroom door clicked shut, she opened her eyes again.
The sound echoed through the house, a final note on a conversation that felt dangerously unfinished.
She stood frozen for a heartbeat longer, then spun on her heel. Her movements felt frantic as she retreated into her quarters, the transition from the hallway to her room a blur of shadow. The heavy mahogany door swung shut with a groan of its hinges, and she leaned her full weight against it.
The wood was bitingly cold against her back, a welcome contrast to the heat still pulsing between her legs.
She pressed her spine into the grain, desperate for the chill to seep through her clothes and steady her.
It was useless. That spark had already caught; a slow-burning heat curled deep in her belly.
She shimmied out of her gown, the fabric sliding down her skin with a whisper that seemed far too loud in the quiet room.
She felt a sharp prickle of gratitude that Mrs. Alderton had seen fit to send the servants to bed early.
The housekeeper likely believed she was gifting the couple a night of soft-lit intimacy and much-needed privacy.
Naked and shivering despite the lingering heat in her blood, Anne pulled on a thin shift and climbed into the large bed. The linens were crisp and thick, yet they offered no comfort.
She lay on her side, her green eyes wide and fixed on the window.
The heavy velvet curtains were parted just enough to allow a sliver of the midnight breeze to slip through.
They swayed with a slow, ghostly rhythm.
She felt as though they were inhaling toward the glass, then exhaling back into the room. And so she mirrored them.
Back and forth. Rise and fall. Yes, that’s it.
She tried to match her breathing to their movement, hoping the rhythm would lull her to sleep. But every time the fabric fluttered, she imagined she heard the click of a door or the thud of a footstep in the hallway.
The moonlight caught the golden threads in the drapes, making them shimmer like liquid fire in the dark. They only teased the heat that had not dissipated.
William’s words had settled into her bones, while the rest of the house fell into a deep, oblivious sleep.
Perhaps more…