Chapter 14
Verity was naked and sated, head resting on King’s bare chest just above his steadily thudding heart.
It was her favorite way to fall asleep, pressed against him, the heat and strength of her husband a reassuring comfort that soothed her in a way nothing else could.
Recently, her nights had grown restless.
Consumed by memories of the fire, or what she presumed were memories.
Haunted by the feeling that she had lost someone close to her.
She often woke, drenched in sweat, crying out into the darkness of the night.
But always, King was there to soothe her.
He held her in his arms, stroked her back, and calmed her until the unwanted feelings abated.
The last nightmare she suffered had been particularly terrifying, and although her body was tingling with the pleasant aftereffects of making love, she was hesitant to surrender to the uncertainty of slumber and the dreams it would bring her.
“Are you tired?” she asked him softly.
“Never too tired for you, my love.”
His deep voice rumbled over her, softer than velvet and laden with affection.
She kissed his chest. “Do you think we might talk, just for a bit? I know the hour is late, but I find myself reluctant to sleep. I don’t want to have another nightmare.”
He stroked her hair. “If I could slip into your dreams for you and slay all your dragons, I would. Just like the story you’ve been telling Emma.”
Verity smiled, surprised. “You’ve been listening?”
She visited the nursery early each evening to continue the tale she had created for Emma. King often joined them after he had finished attending to his correspondence unless he was otherwise engaged.
“I’ve begun to suspect that you are the dragon in the story, rescuing the little girl and spiriting her away to a magical world.”
She tilted her head back to look at him through the silvery moonlight. “Is it too fanciful and silly, do you think? I have been trying to find a way of easing her fears. The poor darling has borne such a burden at so tender an age.”
King swept his hand along her spine, gliding beneath the curtain of her unbound hair. “The story is nothing short of wonderful, angel. Just like you are. If only all children had a dragon like you to swoop into their lives and save them. The world would be a much better place.”
“I do what I can with the Children’s Foundling Hospital, though I frequently fear that it is woefully insufficient, especially given that it is taking so long to rebuild.”
She and Sybil had begun planning the ball to raise funds for the orphanage, with Maman’s help, of course. It gave Verity’s days a renewed sense of purpose, along with the time she spent with King and Emma. But still, it felt as if everything was unfolding with a torpidity that frustrated her.
“You do more than anyone I have ever met, my love,” he reassured her. “You never cease to astound me with your selflessness. And the kindness and compassion you show to all the children, Emma included, is humbling.”
“Who could not be kind and compassionate to a child?”
The hand traveling up and down her spine momentarily stilled, and she felt his muscles tense beneath her. “Many people would not be.”
Not for the first time, Verity sensed more was boiling beneath the surface of their conversation. She wanted to know what it was. To know everything there was to learn about him.
“What were you like when you were a lad?” she asked.
“No different from any others, I suspect,” he said. “Although I didn’t have a sister to torment with arachnids, given that I was the only one of all my siblings to survive infancy.”
Her heart ached for him, at what he had missed. Although she and Everett were not currently in agreement on her choice of husband, they remained close. She couldn’t fathom having grown up without him as her champion.
“I am sorry your siblings didn’t live.”
“They were better off.”
His harsh words gave her pause. “What do you mean by that?”
“Precisely that. I mean that my childhood was not one I would wish upon anyone else.”
She shifted, moving so that she lay on her side, propping herself up with an elbow to see him better. “What happened to make you say so?”
He shuddered. “I do my utmost to keep that memory in the past where it belongs.”
She should let the subject rest, she knew, but she couldn’t. Her husband was a complex man, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that if she were to understand his past better, she might understand the man he had become.
“Will you tell me?” she asked softly. “Please? I want to know all there is to know about you, my love.”
He exhaled and was silent for so long that she feared she had pushed him too far. But then, he spoke into the hush of the night.
“My father delighted in beating me. For as long as I can recall, there wasn’t a time, from the moment I was old enough to walk, to the time I finally grew taller than him as a young man, that he didn’t hit me when he saw me.”
She pressed a hand to her mouth. “Oh, King.”
“I was a disappointment to him,” he continued.
“I was too stupid, too curious, too energetic, too insolent. He had wanted a son to make him proud, and instead, he had received me, and he wasn’t happy.
I think that in some ways, he hated me. So, you see, my love?
I warned you that memory can sometimes be a curse. ”
“I am so very sorry, darling. My own father was often absent and uncaring, but he never raised his hand to me, and at least Everett and I had each other. Did your mother not intervene on your behalf?”
“She resented me. I was the embodiment of the man she had grown to loathe. She was far more concerned with the social whirl than she was with me. I saw even less of her than I did of him, and she was no less inclined to raise her hand to me.”
Dear God. Little wonder he preferred not to speak of his past or his parents. To think of him as a young boy, so very alone, suffering the wrath of his father and mother… Verity simply couldn’t bear it. How she wished she had been there for him then, a dragon to breathe fire and keep him safe.
She embraced King tightly. “I think you are the one truly in need of a dragon to slay the nightmares.”
“Perhaps we’re all in need of a dragon now and then,” he said softly, his voice tender.
“I’ll be yours from now on,” she vowed. “Yours and Emma’s.”
“Just as long as you promise not to eat arackness.”
She smiled at his use of Emma’s mispronunciation, but she also knew what he was doing. Whenever conversations between them grew too heavy, King had a habit of either making jokes or making love to her. Anything to distract from the weighty emotions he didn’t want to feel.
It was her most fervent hope that one day, he would be open and unfettered with her, no more avoidance. But she knew she couldn’t press him. He would do so in his own time and at the pace his heart chose.
“I promise not to eat any arachnids,” she said with mock solemnity. “I would sooner eat fish.”
“And we know how much you dislike that particular dish.” He cupped her nape gently. “Come closer.”
She shifted in the bed, drawing nearer to him, settling her hand back on his chest.
“Closer.”
Verity laughed. “Any closer and I shall be atop you.”
“Exactly.”
Well, then. It was apparent that her charming husband was employing both tactics of distraction this evening.
And she had no doubt he would succeed. All she had to do was think about him, to long for his touch, and here they were, skin to skin.
Their proximity didn’t bode well for her ability to resist him.
But since when had she ever been able to resist Peregrine Septimus Castelyn, the tenth Duke of Kingham?
Never, she was sure.
“Thank you for telling me about your past,” she said seriously, not ready yet to allow him to brush everything they had discussed aside. “I hope to one day know everything there is to know about you.”
“I’m not certain such a feat is possible.” He urged her forward. “Now kiss me, angel, and make me forget.”
She gave in, finding his lips with hers and kissing him.
He cupped her bottom and pulled her so that she was astride him, a position that left the hard ridge of his cock pressed deliciously against her where she longed for him most. It felt wicked, being on top of him like this, but it also felt good, as if she held all the control.
His tongue dueled with hers, his hands caressing her hips, her waist. His touch on her was electric.
She rocked, the head of him glancing over her already swollen clitoris and making her moan.
She was ready for him, her body potently aware, her cunny wet and aching, her nipples hard buds that longed for his mouth next.
As they kissed, he guided her so that she was on her knees, the new placement allowing him to reach between them and slick himself along her folds, then over her pearl again and again.
It felt so good, too good, chasing all the lingering pain from his revelations.
He wanted her to make him forget, but he was the one driving thought from her mind, making her want him even though they had made love earlier.
No one could make her feel the way King did.
And she knew no one ever would.
Seconds turned into minutes, and they were still writhing together, kissing until they were breathless and then kissing some more. King was first to move his lips from hers, dragging them down her throat to her shoulder where he gently sank his teeth into her flesh.
Verity moaned. “I need you inside me, King.”
He made a low sound of approval. “Then take what you want, sweetness.”
She was about to ask him what he meant when a particularly lewd passage from one of the books she’d read returned to her, and she understood. Verity rose on her knees, reaching for him. He sucked one of her nipples deep into his mouth, the hot, wet pull almost more than she could bear.