Chapter Sixteen #2
“You didn’t know the truth because I couldn’t tell it. I still can’t, not all of it.” She squeezed his arm gently. “But I’ve made my peace with what happened.”
They’d reached a small bench tucked into an alcove formed by overgrown hedges, and Raven guided her to sit. He settled beside her, his expression troubled.
“So, now that you are my duchess, what are your dreams?” he asked instead of responding to her plea. “What do you want out of your life?”
The question cracked something open in Ashley’s chest. No one had asked her about her dreams in three years. Everyone had been too busy discussing her fall from grace, her ruined reputation, her scandalous behavior and how to help mitigate the damage.
“I want to be a mother,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.
“More than anything else in the world, I want to be happy. A house full of laughter and chaos and sticky fingers would make me happy. I want to read our children stories and teach them to be kind and watch them grow into good people.”
“I like that dream.” Raven reached for her hand, threading their fingers together. “We can have that.”
“Can we?” Ashley turned to look at him directly. “You married me out of obligation, Raven. To protect me from a second scandal. I’m grateful for that—truly, I am. And I won’t lie and say I don’t enjoy what we do together in private. But children…children deserve to be born from love, not duty.”
“What if it’s becoming more than duty?” The words came out rough, almost defensive. “What if I’m starting to care about you in ways that have nothing to do with obligation?”
Her heart stuttered. “Raven—”
“I’m terrified,” he continued, the admission seeming to cost him something.
“Terrified of caring about you the way I cared about Kitty. Terrified of losing you the way I lost her. Terrified that what I want from you—the way I need to touch you, control you—makes me the monster my father said I was.”
And there it was. The heart of his fear laid bare between them.
Ashley turned on the bench to face him fully, taking both his hands in hers. “Your father was wrong.”
“Was he?” Raven’s laugh was harsh. “He caught me at seventeen with a riding crop in my hand and a married woman tied to the bed. He called me an abomination. Said my proclivities were unnatural, that I’d corrupted her with my twisted desires.
And then he died just a few months later, thinking I was a deviant who’d brought shame on the family name. ”
The pain in his voice made Ashley’s chest ache. He’d told her about Lady Featherington, about the scandal Raven had endured as a boy. But she hadn’t fully understood the weight of his father’s condemnation, the way those words had shaped everything Raven believed about himself.
“He was wrong,” she repeated firmly. “Listen to me, Raven. That woman—Lady Featherington—she was five years older than you. She seduced a fifteen-year-old boy and taught him to cater to her desires. Then she let you take all the blame when you were caught. That’s not your shame to carry. It’s hers.”
“My father didn’t see it that way.”
“He was probably afraid of what he didn’t understand.
Afraid for his son. You know that better than anyone.
” Ashley squeezed his hands. “But I’ve been in your bed, Raven.
I’ve experienced what you call your ‘twisted desires.’ And I’m telling you—there’s nothing wrong with you.
Nothing abominable or deviant about wanting to give your wife pleasure in unconventional ways. ”
“Ashley—”
“No, let me finish.” She took a steadying breath.
“Yes, you like control. Yes, you enjoy restraining me and using that riding crop or paddle and pushing me to the edge of what I can handle. But you’re also careful.
Attentive. You check with me constantly to make sure I’m comfortable, that I’m enjoying myself.
You stop the instant I show any sign of real distress.
That’s not corruption, Raven. That’s care. ”
He looked at her with something like wonder in his eyes, as if he couldn’t quite believe she was real.
“What we do together brings us both pleasure,” Ashley continued softly. “It makes us both feel good. How can that be wrong? How can mutual desire and trust and—” she hesitated over the word, then pushed forward, “—and growing affection be anything but right?”
“My father—”
“Your father was grieving the loss of your mother and was terrified for your reputation. He lashed out in anger and fear, and you’ve been carrying his words with you ever since.
” Ashley reached up to cup his face, forcing him to meet her eyes.
“But Raven, you’re not seventeen anymore.
You’re a grown man with a wife who understands and accepts every part of you.
Including the parts you’re afraid to show the world. ”
A shudder ran through him, and for a moment Ashley thought he might pull away. Instead, he surged forward, capturing her mouth in a kiss that tasted of desperation and hope in equal measure.
When they finally broke apart, both breathing hard, Raven rested his forehead against hers.
“Thank you,” he whispered. “For seeing me. For not recoiling from what I am.”
“You’re my husband,” Ashley said simply. “And you’re a good man, Raven. Honorable and kind and—yes—sometimes a bit controlling, not only in the bedroom. But that doesn’t make you an abomination. It makes you human.”
They sat in silence for a while, hands clasped, the late afternoon sun painting golden patterns through the hedge leaves. Ashley felt something shift between them—a deepening of trust, perhaps, or the foundation of something that might someday be love.
“I want those things too,” Raven said eventually. “The children. The house full of laughter. A real partnership, not just a marriage of convenience.”
“Then we’ll build that together.” Ashley managed a smile, despite the worry still gnawing at her. “One day at a time.”
“Speaking of building things together—” Raven seemed to deliberately lighten the mood, “What would you think about attending the theater tomorrow evening? There’s a new production of Much Ado About Nothing that’s supposed to be quite good.
We could invite Farah and Rockwell, and your sister Ivy. Make it a proper family outing.”
The offer surprised and pleased her. Three months of marriage, and this would be their first public appearance together as a genuinely united couple rather than two people fulfilling social obligations.
“I’d love that,” Ashley said warmly. “Though I should warn you, your sister will undoubtedly interrogate us about our sudden change in circumstances.”
“Let her.” Raven grinned, and the expression transformed his face. “I have nothing to hide anymore. Not from Farah, anyway.”
They walked back toward the house slowly, neither quite ready to end this moment of understanding. But as they approached the entrance, Henderson appeared with a silver salver.
“Your Grace, this just arrived.” The butler offered the tray to Raven. “The messenger said it was urgent.”
Raven took the letter, and Ashley watched his expression shutter as he broke the seal and scanned the contents. She didn’t need to ask who it was from—the sudden tension in his shoulders told her everything.
“Prinny again?” she asked quietly.
“Yes.” He refolded the letter with deliberate care. “I have to attend him before the theatre.”
“He’s calling on you a lot of recent. Any reason?”
“I suspect he’s having financial issues, as per usual. He is a big spender. He does do a lot for the arts. I advised him on the Indies venture I mentioned, and I suspect he’s wanting to know the result. We have done exceedingly well.”
Damn. She should have mentioned it to the Sisterhood. “How successful?”
He bent and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Very. Come, let’s go and get warm. I might have to leave soon.”
They went inside together, her arm through his like an old married couple and her heart sang. This was the type of marriage she wanted—sharing their lives. And while she hated how Raven seemed to be a Prinny’s beck and call, she was proud of her husband.
After dinner, as they prepared for bed, the sexual awareness crackled in the air, thick and electric. She wanted this wonderfully intimate day to continue.
Ashley reached for him, pulling him close, and Raven came willingly. They made love slowly, tenderly, without silk scarves or blindfolds or riding crops. Just skin and breath and the building understanding that they were creating something real together.
Something worth protecting.
As Ashley drifted to sleep in her husband’s arms, she dreamed of the life they could have now that he seemed to have given up on exposing the man who’d caused the scandal that had seen her ruined.
She loved how Raven respected her wishes and thought that they might just have a wonderful life together.