Chapter Thirty-Three
His ribs had healed, at least insofar as Sebastian could feel, and he had been granted the sleigh rides that he had requested of his wife.
They even continued to sleep in the same bed after the night at Browning’s estate, albeit with the kind of tense energy that two strangers might have if forced to share a bed.
So here he was, with everything he’d asked of her. She was back in his life, back in his room. And still, greedy as he was, he wanted more. He wanted her to look at him the way she had when he’d first asked for her hand - without reservation, completely open.
Back in London, he had quite convinced himself that if he could only get Augusta up north, could only woo her in the place where he’d envisioned his future family, then things would fall into place precisely as he had imagined them.
Sitting in his study now, watching the sun dip below the horizon, he found himself unsure if that would ever happen.
He’d begun to wonder, in fact, if it was time to give up.
Not on his marriage, but on his expectations.
He and Augusta had gone all the way to prison together, and still he felt the shield that she held like a Roman soldier when they spoke, or when he entered the room.
Perhaps he’d need to accept that shield as the third member of their marriage.
A knock at the study door nearly made him jump. This surprised him - he had not realized how deeply he’d been woolgathering.
“Come in,” he called, then cleared his throat when he heard the disuse in his own voice.
The door crept open slowly, and he knew before he saw her that it was Augusta. She was the only person he knew who could make opening a door seem like an uncertain activity.
When she stepped through, something appeared different about her, though he could not immediately place his finger on what it was.
“Are you quite busy?” she asked, shutting the door behind her.
“No, not at all,” he said, not bothering to hide the fact that he, indeed, had very little work at all these days.
Upon hearing this, she stepped further into the room.
Much further, actually. Despite their ceasefire in recent weeks, it was still rare for Augusta to close the space between them of her own accord.
It was always Sebastian’s job to decide how close to get, how much to ask of her. Not today, apparently.
She came right up to his desk, allowing her delicate fingertips to brush against the oak.
“I spoke with Lord Harris this afternoon.”
Her words, at first, did not mean much to him. He had also spoken with Harris earlier today - the poor man needed advice on his marriage, and Sebastian knew that he was the last person in the world to give it.
He’d sent him along to Augusta, asking him to be discreet should she agree to help, at least until the scandal of their imprisonment had faded.
The man had been all too happy to keep the relationship quiet for now - surely he, too, was not so eager to advertise a connection to the Brightwaters at this moment.
The whole conversation had not meant much to him at the time, but he could see now that it meant a great deal to Augusta. It had, in some way, turned the tide for her.
So that’s what was different about her. The shield had been set aside.
“Yes,” he said, realizing that he hadn’t spoken in far too long. “I thought perhaps you might be able to spare some time for them. I believe his wife would be the better for it.”
“As simple as that, then? You are truly going to let me do it?”
“Well, you’ve already done it, haven’t you? I don’t know all the details of your previous work, but clearly it did something. Otherwise you would not have caused such a stir.”
“And you wouldn’t be ashamed of it?”
He ought to be. He knew that. And yet, his wife was standing in his office, close enough for him to smell the rosewater from her clothing. For that, he could muster up no shame.
“The cat’s already out of the bag. We should lie low when we can, of course, but…”
He did not know how to phrase the next part. He had not even fully thought it through on his own, and thinking right now was not coming so easily.
“But what?” Augusta asked slowly, and he knew that whatever he said next would determine whether or not she picked that shield up again.
“But…I think it would be a waste if you did not practice now.”
As he said it, he felt greatly that he actually believed it, despite how painful it was to admit. After all he’d fought it, here they were.
She gave a sharp inhale, followed quickly by a sniffle that she tried to hide by clearing her throat and fiddling with her hands. Specifically, by twiddling the wedding ring on her left hand.
Now was the moment to step in, if ever there was one. He moved around the desk, coming over to her side with cautious steps, not wanting to send her running. She stayed put, offering no resistance as he rested against the desk next to her and reached a hand up, tucking a stray hair behind her ear.
He could see the moment that she realized he was going to kiss her, and to his surprise, only anticipation filled her eyes.
That was all the permission he needed to press his lips to hers. Though tense at first, she quickly yielded, even bringing her hands up his chest and lightly wrapping her fingers around the lapels of his jacket, just barely tugging him closer.
And closer he got. Wrapping his arms around her, he pressed them flush together. Augusta gave a breathless little gasp and gripped him tighter.
His insipid work could wait. The whole damn world could wait. His hands only wanted to roam his wife’s curves, only wanted to rest upon her backside and squeeze with too much force, eliciting a slight jump from her that only served to press her breasts up against his chest.
He hated the very idea of clothes. As his tongue played against her lips, he pulled and pulled at her skirts, finally rewarded with the feeling of beautiful bare skin.
Her own hands roamed freely now, no longer restricted to his lapels.
In fact, she’d undone the buttons of his jacket whilst he was busy with her skirts.
He tossed the coat aside - let the damn thing burn for all he cared - and his shirt went shortly after it. Each time he was forced to stop kissing his wife, it felt like an eternity.
During the tossing aside of his shirt, Augusta attempted to pull at her dress ties. Sebastian would have none of it.
“Too long,” was all his lust-addled mind could muster. She must have understood what he meant, as she dropped her hands.
In one motion he gripped her neckline and pulled, hard. Augusta gasped, but did not move to stop him. Her dress tore, allowing just enough give for him to pull it down and bare her beautiful breasts to the world.
This could end at any moment. He needed more - and now.
He moved to lift her up onto the desk, but she anticipated his intentions and did the hard work for him. He pulled her close, kissing down her jaw, savoring every soft little moan from her, reveling in the way her thighs clasped around his waist, trying to pull him closer to her entrance.
He lifted his head to plant another firm kiss to her lips.
“I love you,” he breathed.
Hands wrapping in his hair. Her kissing him back.
“I love you,” she said, so softly that he felt it more than heard it.
Torturous as it was, he pulled away to look down at her. “Say it again.”
It was only then, despite being bared to him in every other way, that her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.
“I love you,” she said, just a little louder. Loud enough for him to know it was real.
He would not last long in this condition. Deftly, he pulled his trousers down until he, too, was bared, then he kissed her, hard, harder than he thought he ever had before. So hard, in fact, that the both of them crashed back onto his desk. His work went flying, and he could not find a care for it.
Very well. His desk was not as comfortable as a bed, but it would do.
Finding his balance with his knees upon the hard wood, he lined himself up with her, delighted by how ready he found her. Indeed, when he looked into her eyes, they were glazed over with lust. He suspected his own looked the same.
Those eyes widened only slightly as he slid inside. It was glorious to watch her lips part as she took him fully, but only half as glorious as actually feeling it himself.
Too shaky to hold himself up completely, he brought himself down to one elbow and closed the distance between their lips. His hips worked faster and faster, the pressure of his impending release building each time.
“Say it again,” he breathed against her.
“I love you,” she said, clear as day, though half of it was a gasp.
He wanted to kiss her, but he wanted her to say it again, but he wanted to kiss her…
She bit back a moan, but he would have none of this wordless nonsense.
“Again.”
“I love-”
Her words cut off as she squeezed her eyes shut, her mouth dropping open into a wordless O. She clamped around him, taking him over the edge of that proverbial cliff with her.
In that moment it was all so clear to him; their future. The sleigh rides and the dinners where their conversation was easy. The warmth of her pressed against him in bed at night. Every “I love you” she would say.
As he came back down to earth, he realized that Augusta was saying something. No, mumbling something, over and over again, her eyes still closed as she rode out the last bit of her high.
The mumbling faded and her breath slowly returned to normal. Her eyes fluttered open, and her gaze locked with his.
“What were you saying?”
Her brow knit together, as though it should have been obvious to him.
“I said I love you.”