Chapter 23
The gardens were drenched in silver.
After the dance, Aurelia and Percival stepped outside for some fresh air.
The moonlight was perfection. Roses were in full bloom, and fountains babbled. The air was cool, scented with jasmine and damp earth, and it made her feel like the world belonged only to them.
Aurelia walked slowly, her slippers crunching the gravel. Beside her, Percival walked in silence, his tall form cutting through the silver light like shadow itself.
He is my husband. Yet he feels like more than that. More dangerous. More consuming.
At times, Percival seemed a force rather than a man—immovable, a mountain that could crush her with a glance. But tonight… tonight there was something else. Something softer beneath the steel.
Protectiveness. Assurance.
And that made her lips twitch into a faint smile.
God help me, I like this. I like being here with him.
Silence lingered between them as they walked. She was the one who had suggested a stroll through the garden. And now there was nothing but quiet. She longed to shatter it, to laugh, to say something funny, but her tongue felt heavy, her mind full of words too small.
Before she could try, his voice broke the stillness. “Are you cold?”
The concern in his voice startled her.
She glanced up at him, her heart thumping hard. His blue eyes were fixed on her, sharper than moonlight, studying her as if she were the only thing in the garden.
Her lips curved. “No,” she whispered.
Yet his gaze lingered. It narrowed slightly, catching the way her fingers rubbed nervously against her palm.
She turned away too quickly, pretending to admire a fountain that glittered magically in the moonlight. Her skin warmed at his perusal.
He notices too much. He always notices.
They continued walking. He did not press her with more questions, which only thickened the silence. Desperate for sound, Aurelia forced one out.
“The duchess I met earlier,” she said softly, “the one in the pale green gown. She seemed so charming. She told me that black looked so daring on me. She was so beautiful.”
Percival made a low sound in the back of his throat, as if the matter required no thought at all. “If you say so.”
“You did not notice?” Her brows rose at his dismissive tone.
Surely, the duchess she was talking about had been the talk of the evening for such a daring color.
His expression hardened, as though uninterested in the topic. “I was more occupied with something else.” His blue gaze dropped to her. “With making sure the night was pleasant for you.”
Her lashes fluttered at his words. Words that made her cheeks flame. She bit the inside of her cheek, fighting back a smile.
“You have a way with words, Duke.” She cleared her throat delicately, butterflies fluttering violently in her stomach.
She tried to keep her gaze ahead, but her defiance was threatened by the strong breeze. The night air kissed her bare shoulders, making her shiver.
She rubbed her shoulders and then her fingers again. She was not even aware of her own movements until a heavy, warm coat was draped around her shoulders.
Aurelia froze, enveloped by his scent. His warmth. Him.
Then, she looked up to see him adjusting his coat around her, his shirt clinging to his muscular torso. Her lungs seized.
He looked at her once he was done, though his hands lingered, pressing lightly against her shoulders.
Oh God.
Every nerve sparked to life beneath his touch.
At that moment, the garden disappeared. The fountains, the roses, the stars themselves—none of them mattered except for his eyes, which were locked on hers. Blue, unreadable, burning with something that made her knees weaken.
Does he see the way my body is begging him to touch me lower?
And she knew, with a shiver that warmed her from within, that he could hear the faintest tremor as she breathed.
Her gaze dipped lower, to his mouth. Firm. Perfect. Cruelly restrained.
Those lips devoured me once. They could do worse. They could ruin me.
Her own lips parted helplessly at the mere thought of the things his mouth could do to her.
The silence grew heavy between them, too heavy. It thickened with things unsaid. And the more it thickened, the more her body betrayed her. She didn’t even realize she was leaning closer, her knees trembling with shame and greed.
Kiss me.
At that moment, that was all she wanted.
Press me against the marble and make me yours.
She moved closer until she could feel the ghost of his breath. But before she could do anything further, Percival broke the moment.
His hands slipped from her shoulder, slow and reluctant. As if every inch he drew back was an act of violence against himself.
Aurelia felt the loss like a blow. Heat lingered where his touch had been. Then, she dropped her gaze, and her fingers curled into the edge of his coat. Not for warmth, but to keep from trembling.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
The words trembled out of her lips. Even she was startled by the childlike tremor in her voice.
Percival simply nodded, his expression giving away nothing. It made her confused all over again.
How can he look so cold when I’m burning for him?
They walked on. This time, she spoke, wanting to break the silence as her mind went back to Lottie.
“I was thinking.” Her voice grew steadier. “That perhaps we might… spend more time together. Not just you and me.” She tore her gaze away from him and fixed it on the roses, her breath shaky. “I mean all of us. You, Lottie, and me.”
No reply.
Her stomach twisted, but she pressed on nonetheless.
“Perhaps one day could be set aside. Only for us. No duties, no expectations. Just… family.” She swallowed, the word catching in her throat.
“Perhaps in the gardens. Lottie loves the outdoors. She can play, run as she pleases, laugh as she deserves to laugh. We might spread a blanket and share bread, fruit, jam…” Her lips curved faintly.
“I could even attempt baking. Though I warn you, I am more likely to poison than impress.”
Something flickered across his face, his lips curving.
His reaction didn’t escape her notice. It seized her heart, allowing her to slow her steps.
For the first time, she saw it. The wide curve of a smile. Not cruel, not restrained, but a genuine one, with dimples she had never noticed before.
It was so slight, so precious.
“What is it?” she asked, her voice hushed.
His eyes flicked to her. “What is what?”
“That smile.” Her heart thudded. “I’ve never seen it before. Not like that.” She tilted her head, searching his face as though it might reveal his secrets. “Tell me what thought brought it out, so I might share it.”
His gaze locked onto hers. For a heartbeat, she thought he would indulge her. Instead, he said, “We will do it.”
Her breath caught. “We will?”
He nodded once firmly. “The picnic. The games. Whatever you wish.”
Warmth bloomed in her chest. “Really?”
“Really.”
Without thinking twice, she leaned toward him.
“Thank you,” she breathed, with gratitude, relief, awe, and hunger.
Her eyes trailed over his face, unable to look away.
Without giving it much thought, she rose on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his.
The kiss was soft, clumsy, desperate. A kiss stolen from the edge of madness.
Percival went still. Very still. His body stiffened against her, his heart pounding beneath her palms. But his lips did not move, and his silence caused cold dread to coil in her stomach.
Her smile faltered. Her cheeks burned with shame, and she dropped her hands.
Her lashes lowered. She had made a mistake.
“I—I shouldn’t have—” she whispered, pulling back.
But she went no further. She couldn’t because he didn’t allow it.
His hands grabbed her waist so suddenly, before yanking her against him. She gasped as his mouth crashed onto hers in a devastating kiss.
There was no tenderness. Only fire and hunger. He devoured her, his lips crushing hers, his tongue claiming her mouth as though it belonged to him. And she melted into him, clutching his shoulders as if he might escape.
He kissed her harder, deeper, dragging every ounce of restraint from his soul and throwing it into the flames.
When his mouth left hers, she gasped again, her head falling back. “Percival…”
She moaned when his lips found her throat, shamefully wanton. He answered with a growl, his hand sliding down her spine and gripping her hip, grinding her against him. He sucked hard on the hollow at the base of her throat, his teeth grazing, and his tongue soothing.
Her body shook. Her hips betrayed her. She ground against him, feeling his hard length against her belly. The sensation tore a sharp cry from her lips.
I make him hard. I make him lose control. He wants me. He needs me.
His hands roamed again and squeezed her waist, before one slid up and cupped her breast through her gown.
She gasped, her lips parting on a desperate moan as this thumb brushed her nipple. “Percival…”
It was not a protest. It was a plea.
He growled again, tearing his mouth from her neck only to trail hot kisses to the swell of her breasts. His teeth caught the fabric of her bodice, his tongue pressing against it, and then—God help her—his mouth closed over her nipple and sucked.
Aurelia cried out, her voice broken. Her hips bucked against him, needing friction.
Percival groaned against her breast, the vibration making her slick with need. For one terrifying, glorious instant, she thought he would strip her bare in the garden, and take her against the roses, against the fountain, against the very stone beneath their feet.
But then she heard laughter. Footsteps. Voices approaching along the path.
Percival froze. His teeth released her slowly, his breath ragged against the damp fabric of her bodice, his hardness still prodding her belly.
With effort so violent that it nearly tore him apart, he pulled back.
Aurelia staggered, her lungs burning. Her lips were wet and swollen. Her thighs pressed together helplessly, seeking relief. She wanted more.
But somehow, a laugh escaped her lips. Breathless, dazed, delirious. The fact that they had almost caused a scandal right there in the garden was quite amusing.
But Percival did not laugh. His jaw was tight, his eyes churning with a storm that looked like it might swallow him whole.
Inside, he was battling against his instincts. His cock throbbed painfully, straining against his trousers. His body was screaming for her. His hands itched to knead her breasts. His lips tingled with the taste of her skin.
The realization that dawned on him was long overdue.
He wanted her too much. He would break for her. And that would be his doom.