Chapter Fourteen #2
“Then take me to bed,” she challenged, her eyes bright with desire and something else—mischief, perhaps, or the same reckless pleasure in breaking rules that had characterized her these past few days.
“Show me what you’ve been thinking about all day.
I want to forget about scandals and investigations.
I want to forget everything except how you make me feel. ”
It was the permission he needed. Raven surged to his feet, lifting Ashley with him in a cascade of water and lavender-scented steam. She wrapped her legs around his waist, not caring that they were both dripping wet, that water pooled on the floor beneath them.
He carried her through the connecting door into his bedchamber, leaving a trail of wet footprints on the carpet that Simpson would undoubtedly notice later.
Neither of them cared. Raven laid Ashley down on his bed—their bed, he corrected mentally—and followed her down, covering her body with his own.
“I’m getting your sheets all wet,” Ashley protested weakly, even as her hands slid up his back, pulling him closer.
“I don’t give a damn about the sheets.” Raven captured her mouth in a kiss that was all hunger and possession, all the frustration and fury from his afternoon channeled into this—claiming his wife, showing her without words how much she’d come to mean to him.
When they finally broke apart, both breathing hard, Ashley smiled up at him with such trust, such complete faith, that something in his chest tightened almost painfully.
“Make love to me,” she whispered. “No silk scarves tonight. No games or power exchanges. Just us. Just this.”
And though part of him wanted to bind her again, wanted to exert that same control he’d claimed last night, Raven understood what she was asking for. Intimacy without barriers. Connection without the protective distance his darker desires sometimes created.
“Just us,” he agreed, threading their fingers together and pinning her hands gently above her head. Not bondage, exactly, but a position that satisfied his need to control while still giving her what she’d asked for. “I can do that.”
Their lovemaking was slower this time, less frantic than their coupling the night before.
Raven took his time exploring her body with hands and mouth, discovering which touches made her arch and which made her melt.
He learned the taste of her skin, still faintly sweet from her bath oils.
The exact rhythm that made her whimper his name like a prayer.
When he finally entered her, Ashley’s legs wrapped around his waist, holding him close as they moved together. No barriers between them now—just skin and heat and the building pleasure that made the world narrow to this bed, this moment, this woman in his arms.
“Raven,” Ashley gasped as he changed angles, hitting some place deep inside that made her eyes go wide. “Oh God, right there—”
He gave her exactly what she needed, driving into her with controlled force until she shattered beneath him, crying out his name as pleasure overtook her. Only then did Raven let himself follow, spilling inside her with a groan that came from somewhere deep in his chest.
They lay tangled together afterward, hearts racing, bodies still joined.
The afternoon had faded into early evening, painting the room in shades of amber and gold.
Somewhere in the house, dinner would be waiting.
Servants would be wondering about their master and mistress.
Society would continue its endless gossip and speculation.
But in this moment, in this room, none of that mattered. There was only Ashley, warm and sated in his arms, her fingers tracing idle patterns on his chest, her breath evening out as contentment replaced passion.
“We’re going to miss dinner,” she murmured against his skin.
“I don’t care.” Raven pressed a kiss to her temple. “Let them wait. Let the whole of London wait. Right now, you’re the only thing that matters.”
She tilted her head up to look at him, and in her eyes, he saw understanding. She knew what he’d been doing today, knew he’d been investigating her past despite her wishes. And yet here she was, choosing this moment with him over recriminations or arguments.
“We should talk,” Ashley said softly. “About your investigation. About what you learned from my brothers.”
“Later.” He tightened his arms around her. “Right now, I just want to hold you.”
She nodded against his chest, apparently content with that answer for the moment. They dozed fitfully as evening deepened into night, waking occasionally to touch and kiss before drifting off again. It wasn’t until Raven’s stomach growled loudly that Ashley laughed and pushed at his chest.
“You need to eat something.”
“So do you. Especially with what I have planned for later.” He caught her hand and brought it to his lips. “Though I confess, the thought of getting dressed and going down to face the household seems monumentally unappealing right now.”
“Then don’t.” Ashley sat up, the sheet pooling around her waist in a way that made his mouth go dry. “Sneak down to the kitchen and bring something back. We can have our own private dinner up here.”
The suggestion was so delightfully scandalous—the Duke of Blackstone, creeping through his own house like a thief to raid the larder—that Raven couldn’t help but grin.
“You’re a terrible influence,” he told her.
“I know. I’m the lady who never behaves.” She leaned down to kiss him, slow and sweet. “It’s part of my charm.”
Ten minutes later, Raven found himself doing exactly as she’d suggested.
He’d pulled on breeches and a shirt, forgoing stockings and shoes, and made his way down the servants’ stairs to the kitchen.
The household was in the in-between time—dinner over but not yet fully cleared away, the staff relaxing before the evening’s final tasks.
Cook looked up in shock as he entered her domain and nearly dropped the pot she was holding. “Your Grace! I didn’t expect—Is something wrong? I thought you’d postponed dinner. I apologize if that’s not correct—”
“Nothing’s wrong, Mrs. Patterson.” Raven held up a placating hand. “The duchess and I simply… Well, we’ve decided to dine in my chambers this evening. Privately. I thought I might bring up a tray myself rather than trouble anyone.”
The knowing look that passed over Cook’s face made his ears heat.
Of course, the entire household would guess exactly what had kept him and Ashley occupied all evening.
The wet footprints leading from the bathing chamber to his bedroom would have been clue enough, even without their extended absence.
“Of course, Your Grace.” Mrs. Patterson’s smile was indulgent as she began assembling a tray. “There’s cold chicken from dinner, and some of that venison pie you’re fond of. Fresh bread, cheese, fruit. And I believe there’s still some of that chocolate torte the duchess favors.”
“Perfect.” Raven watched as she worked, adding items to the tray with practiced efficiency. “Mrs. Patterson, might we also have a bottle of wine? Something light?”
“Already planned on it, Your Grace.” She added a bottle and two glasses, then covered everything with a cloth. “There you are. Will you be wanting breakfast in your chambers as well?”
The question was asked innocently enough, but Raven caught the underlying message. The household was adjusting to this new development—their duke and duchess finally behaving like a married couple. Accommodations would need to be made.
“Very possibly,” he admitted. “I’ll have Simpson inform you in the morning.”
He carried the laden tray back up the servants’ stairs, careful not to trip in his haste.
When he pushed open his bedchamber door, he found Ashley had made herself comfortable.
She’d borrowed one of his dressing gowns—the deep green silk that hung nearly to her knees—and was sitting cross-legged in the middle of his bed, looking adorably rumpled.
“Success?” she asked hopefully.
“Mrs. Patterson has outdone herself.” Raven set the tray on the bed between them and removed the cloth with a flourish. “We have chicken, venison pie, bread, cheese, fruit, wine, and chocolate torte.”
Ashley’s eyes lit up at the mention of the torte. “I love Mrs. Patterson.”
They ate with their fingers more often than not, feeding each other bites and sharing sips of wine from the same glass. It was intimate in a way their formal dinners in the dining room had never been—playful and warm, with none of the careful distance they’d maintained over the past three months.
“Tell me something,” Ashley said as she selected a grape from the tray. “Before our scandalous kiss in the garden, had you planned to stay unwed?”
The question caught him off guard. They’d talked about many things over the past few days—desires and boundaries, fears and hopes—but never this.
“I’d always assumed I’d marry eventually,” Raven admitted.
“I needed an heir, and the title demanded it. But the idea was daunting and you know why…” He paused, choosing his words carefully.
“I thought perhaps I’d proven myself unsuited for marriage.
I wasn’t ready to face having to pretend for the rest of my life.
I would have kept a mistress most likely. ”
“And now?” The question was soft, but he heard the vulnerability beneath it.
“Now,” he said, setting aside his wine glass to take her hand, “I’m beginning to think I was wrong. That perhaps happiness isn’t something you get only one chance at.”
Ashley squeezed his fingers. “I’m glad.”
They finished eating as night fully claimed the city outside. When the tray was empty and they were both pleasantly full, Raven set it aside on his desk and returned to the bed.
Before he could speak, Ashley rose and walked over to his chest. She pulled out one of his silk whips, ropes and a blind fold.
Then she turned to face him and shed his dressing gown.
“I’m interested in learning what these are for,” she said with a sensual smile as she crawled naked back onto the bed.
“How did I get so lucky?” he replied as he quickly shed his clothes.
He smiled as he didn’t even have to instruct her.
She lay on the bed and tied the blind fold and positioned her hands above her head.
But this time, he tied one hand to the right and one to the left of the bedhead.
And he also tied her feet to each bedhead as well.
It delighted him to see her shiver in the cool night air and her nipples pebbled in expectation. As he ran the tails of the silk whip down her gorgeous body, his blood heated and he hoped he could last long enough to show her the pleasure she deserved.
Later, when they’d both exhausted themselves, his heart thumped deep in his chest at the realization that Ashley was probably the perfect wife for him.
“Stay with me tonight,” he said, sliding in beside her.
“I planned on it. I’d like to spend every night in your arms.” She turned into his arms, her head finding that perfect spot against his chest. “Though we should probably discuss boundaries at some point. Like when we’re actually hosting guests, or if there are mornings when you need to work—”
“Ashley.”
“Mmm?”
“Stop planning and just sleep. We’ll figure out the details as we go.”
She yawned, her breath warm against his skin. “That’s remarkably sensible of you.”
“I have my moments.”
Within minutes, her breathing had evened out into sleep.
Raven lay awake longer, one hand stroking her hair, his mind churning with everything that had happened over the past two days.
He’d discovered his wife’s innocence, shared his deepest darkest secret, made love to her twice, and started an investigation that could have far-reaching consequences.
And despite the complicated tangle of it all, he felt more at peace than he had in years.
Tomorrow he would continue his investigation. Would find a way to approach Lady Featherington or another source who might know the truth about Ashley’s scandal. Would begin laying the groundwork for consequences for whoever had destroyed his wife’s reputation.
But tonight? Tonight, he would simply hold her. Would let himself have this—the warmth of her body against his, the trust she’d placed in him, the possibility of a future that held more than duty and obligation.
It was enough. For now, it was more than enough.