Chapter Twenty
William watched Penelope hug her friends one last time before closing the carriage door and waving to them as the coach pulled away along the gravel, kicking up a few rocks as it continued down the drive.
She hugged her body, the features of her face tightening as the carriage turned on to the main road and disappeared behind a cluster of lush green foliage from the large oaks.
Her shoulders sagged and she rubbed her upper arms as if chilled, but didn’t turn to come back inside.
He stepped away from the window and went to her. He reached her side and slid a comforting arm around her back. She leaned into him without hesitation and rested her head along his shoulder.
‘Thank you for sending for them and preparing such a lovely visit for a few days. It was extraordinarily kind of you.’ She wrapped her arms around his waist.
He breathed in the sweet scent of her, pulling her to him. The familiar need and desire to hold her tighter and yet never be able to have her close enough budded in his gut, setting his body on fire. ‘For you,’ he said, pressing a chaste kiss to her head, ‘anything.’
She chuckled. ‘Then, perhaps a walk, Your Grace? I feel restless now that they have gone.’
He glanced up to the sky. ‘It looks like rain.’
‘All the more reason for it. I love the crackle of thunder and electricity in the air.’
‘You do? Yet another thing I do not remember about you.’ He sighed.
‘It is entertaining for you to learn me all over again, is it not?’ she teased with a winsome smile.
‘And what of me? Is it as enjoyable for you?’ He worried over her answer.
She turned her face towards him. ‘More than you will ever know.’ Her gaze flickered with love and longing and something else he couldn’t name. His body flared, matching her desire.
He cleared his throat, bent and nuzzled her neck. ‘If you do not cease looking at me so, I will be forced to show you how much I desire you and wish to relearn every part of you.’
She nipped his ear with her teeth. ‘I do hope you will.’
He nearly lost his footing. His body shuddered. ‘Let us walk before I forget what it means to be a gentleman and that we are in public out of doors,’ he replied, offering his arm to her. She threaded hers within his and chuckled.
‘I do hope to see that as well,’ she whispered so softly he almost believed he imagined it. But when he met her gaze, he saw her enlarged pupils and the want within them.
Lord above. If he wasn’t careful, he would honour her request right then and there on the front lawn. He prayed for rain to cool the base need that banked and burned within him.
They made their way around the front lawn to the side of the Manor and a rumble of thunder far in the distance reminded him of the dangerous internal storm he was on the brink of as well.
He did not wish to rush the delicate balance between them, and navigating his feelings for her was becoming more and more precarious.
They climbed up a series of stones marking the beginning of the garden that connected the front lawn to the lake in the back of the estate.
She jostled into him as his gait was longer than her own, her bosom sliding along his forearm, and he clenched his jaw.
He needed to distract himself with something—anything—other than the current images of her naked form pressed against him he was conjuring up in his mind.
‘Why do you love thunderstorms?’ he asked. The weather seemed a benign neutral topic.
‘Because of my mother,’ she replied.
His interest was piqued. She had told him little of her family.
He knew more about her dear friends than her parents, even though he knew she did not know her father.
‘Tell me more,’ he encouraged, pleased to be distracted as they made their way across the grass.
The wind whipped up, ruffling her chestnut hair and tugging strands free from the pins holding it in a knot at the base of her neck.
The weather suited her as did everything else. He suppressed a smile.
‘When she knew a storm was coming, she would light all the candles we had, build a fort of blankets, snuggle within it and read to me.’ Her features softened and her voice was whimsical and light.
‘What kinds of stories did she read to you?’
She smiled at him. ‘Nothing you would like, I’m afraid. They were stories of love, romance and adventure.’
He cocked his head. ‘And why would I not enjoy such tales?’
‘Because you are a duke. You are serious and intellectual, not fanciful.’
‘I guess I’ll have to take your word for that as I do not know what I used to read.’ A fat raindrop fell on his sleeve and another on his head. He ignored them and they continued.
‘What was your favourite story?’
‘All of them.’ She smirked. ‘Falling asleep to the sound of her voice, the rainstorm and stories of fancy was the best of memories. It is what I miss most about her.’
‘The stories?’
‘The sound of her voice, her smell and the warmth of her holding me.’
He pulled her close and swallowed back the emotion tightening his throat. ‘When did you lose her?’
‘I was only a few years older than when Millie lost her mother. Since I never knew my father and had no other family that I knew of, I ended up at the orphanage. But I was lucky as I met Ophelia and Trudy. Without them, I shudder to think what would have become of me. They became my family.’
‘Until now,’ he murmured, pulling her to a stop, ‘my beloved. Now, we are also your family, Millie and I.’
He bent down on one knee. ‘Since I do not remember proposing to you, I wanted…’ he paused and pulled a small necklace with a simple ruby heart shaped pendant from his trouser pocket ‘…to ask for your hand again. You are all I could ever wish for in a wife and mother. Will you marry me, Penelope?’
She gazed down at him, her eyes glistening with tears, as the rain started to fall in earnest. ‘Yes, William. I will marry you. I would choose you over and over again.’
‘As I would you, Lady Penelope.’ The lightning flashed across the sky and illuminated her features.
He stood, cupped her face and kissed her fiercely, his body flooded with relief and some other feeling—was this love that made him feel invincible and fragile all at once?
She gripped his shoulders and matched the urgency of his affections.
Rain soaked their clothes and the wind whipped around them as the sky darkened from the storm.
He pulled away briefly, grasped her hand and shouted to be heard above the rumble of thunder. ‘Come with me. We must get out of the storm.’
She glanced around him. They were far from the Manor, but there was a drying shed they could run to. He tugged her hand. ‘Follow me,’ he shouted and pointed off to the shed.
She nodded and followed him. They crashed into each other as they skidded along the wet grass, trying to make their way to the shed in the now blinding sheets of rain.
Finally, he thrust the door open and they stumbled inside, and he pushed the door closed.
The scent of drying herbs filled his senses and, at first, he saw only darkness until his eyes finally adjusted
A flash of lightning streamed through the wooden gaps of the walls of the shed, illuminating Penelope’s features for a moment, and his body reacted to the sight of her.
Water glistened from her skin, her hair was soaked and strands traced along her cheeks and neck, and her smile was vibrant and alive.
She chuckled and clutched his jacket. ‘You look soaked through, Your Grace.’
‘No more than you,’ he replied, grasping the hand that gripped his jacket and tugging her closer. ‘There must be a blanket or something about in this shed to dry off with. Let’s start along this wall and search.’
‘A fine idea,’ she replied through chattering teeth.
They stumbled along one wall finding only a work bench and more herbs waiting to be bound and hung. Turning along the second wall, his fingers skimmed a heavy scratchy material hanging from a hook. ‘Aha! A blanket, or coat, or something that can warm us. Anything?’ he asked.
‘Nothing except a great deal of drying herbs. Although they smell lovely,’ she announced. ‘What do they use all of these for?’
He sighed. ‘One of the many things I do not remember,’ he replied. He was tired of the not knowing.
‘That was thoughtless of me.’ She rubbed his arm.
‘It is not you, but my frustration. Not knowing what has and has not been…’ He hesitated and then continued.
‘I do not even know if I…if we ever…’ He paused flustered and impatient with his situation.
How long would his memories be locked away?
What had he done to deserve such a punishment?
He stepped away from her and raked a hand through his hair, muttering a curse as he turned away.
Silence followed and then a flash of lightning before a loud rumble of thunder.
Penelope slid her arms around his waist and hugged his back.
‘No, we have not made love, Your Grace,’ she purred in his ear, eliciting a surge of want in him.
His body shuddered against her. ‘But it is not for a lack of desire to.’
He closed his eyes, blood thrummed through his veins and the battle between his body and mind raged.
A better man would not be tempted or give in to such base desires until they were husband and wife.
Was he that man? Evidently he was to have waited this long.
But they were engaged, he had almost died, she had been there for him and he wanted her more than he had wanted anything in his life… that he could remember anyway.
He stilled. Life was short. What was tomorrow?
There was no promise, no certainty and no guarantees.
But there was her, them, now, and he would seize it.
He turned in her arms, cradled the side of her face, and kissed her with the urgency, need and want he had been holding back.
He let all his gratitude, lust and affection flow unbidden, unfiltered and unchecked in his kisses and caresses.
The more he kissed her, the more he wanted to kiss her, and all he could feel was the warmth, softness and safety of her body.
He never wanted to let her go.
His palm slid over her wet hair and traced the fine, petite lobe of her ear, and she shuddered against him, which sent a whirl of response through his body.
He cleared his throat to distract himself from the roar of want coursing through him.
Her demanding kisses matched his and he tugged her against him, her core resting against his arousal.
She moaned in pleasure and his body flared like dry tinder set upon a flame. He ended their kiss and let his mouth roam unbidden upon the soft supple skin of her neck, nipping slowly. With every gasp from her mouth, his body surged in need. There was no going back for either of them.
Or was there? He pulled back slowly, allowing himself a few moments to collect the words he needed to ask. ‘Are you sure you wish to…here? With me?’ he asked, feeling tentative and uncertain.
‘I know I do not want to stop kissing you,’ she replied, slightly out of breath.
He chuckled. ‘That is not quite the same as what I have in mind.’
Her silence betrayed her hesitation. ‘I do not know all there is to know about coupling, but I do know that I trust you…and that I want you, William.’
He was speechless. Had sweeter, more trusting words ever been spoken to him? Her honesty stilled him.
‘William?’ she asked timidly. ‘Have I said something wrong?’ She squeezed his hand, brought it to her lips and kissed the inside of his palm.
‘No,’ he stammered. ‘I am in awe of your honesty and trust in me.’
‘Then make love to me. We are betrothed, are we not?’
The hesitation and uncertainty in her voice signalled some far distant bell in his head, but he ignored it and gave in to the surge of need, desire and longing he felt for her.
‘We are, my lady, and I plan to make love to you for the rest of my days.’ His fingers trembled as he placed the ruby pendant necklace around her neck and secured the clasp.
He smiled and pulled her into an embrace, his hands caressing every part of her, and kissed her over and over again.
She responded in kind, eager to match his desire for her.
No more words were spoken as their bodies became the only tool they needed to communicate with one another.
And in the storm, another story was told. One they both would never forget.