Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
Blowing out the lamp on his desk, Cedric gave up on working and turned out of his study, bypassing his grandfather’s grandfather clock that chimed eight.
It was the earliest he could ever recall going to bed in years, as he was wont to stay awake to midnight most nights, sorting out the never-ending requests from parishioners and demands from the Crown.
A soft whine from Athena had him looking up and laughing, “I know, I know. Stopping work before midnight seems egregious. You must be asking who this strange man is standing in your master’s study.”
He called for a bath and changed into a robe while shooting a look at the door separating his room from Ariadne’s. Was she inside or back in the library, tempting fate with that damned ladder?
Sitting on the edge of his bed, he rubbed his dog’s ears. “The little miss surprised me today. She did not panic when I got the flare. It tells me she is not one to get flustered easily.”
Athena cocked her head, making him laugh, “You don’t think so? I suppose she did panic upon knowing she ended up in my brother’s bed.”
“Your Grace,” a footman bowed from the doorway to the bathing chamber. “The tub is ready for you.”
He spared a glance at the young man. “Thank you.”
With a last rub, he headed to the substantial chamber, noted the lit sconces on the wall while he shucked his robe and sank into the warm water. His body was so tired of whimpering, but she couldn’t seem to stop. The water, doused with sage and lavender oil, began to loosen his tense muscles.
The large copper tub at the center of the room had a flickering hearth behind it. Resting his head against the back lip of the tub, he stretched one sinewy arm draped along its edge as he let the heat do its work.
He wondered what to do about her; how to distract her day by day so she had no time to meddle in his business. “The orphanage and the girl schools will have her busy, but… I suppose if I pack her sisters in here, she’ll be more distracted with them.”
Resting his head on the tightly rolled towel behind him, his thoughts turned to earlier that day.
His spasms were something he had not wanted anyone to ever see; it still peeved him that one of his darkest secrets was out there.
Earlier, was she looking for a kiss?
Kissing Ariadne was something he had not planned to do at all, not even once during their marriage. It had been years since he had such an urge to kiss a woman, and while he doubted that he would ever do it, he did enjoy the feeling that was awakened.
“Cedric?”
For a moment, he thought he’d imagined it, but when it came stronger, and the door pushed in, Ariadne stood, blanketed in mist, her fresh, beautiful face pink with the heat and her eyes—for the second time—as wide as dinner plates.
She was gorgeous, but the nightgown she wore—lord almighty, what tent did she steal that from?
The thing was hideous, with extra ruffles, flounces, and trimmings to decorate ten ballgowns.
There was a battalion of pearl buttons standing guard along the front of her voluminous, ill-fitting nightgown.
Ariadne locked the door with him, and a sound of a scared mouse left her before she spun around and slammed the door behind her. He sighed and, with a heave, stepped out of the water, languidly reached for his towel, dried off, tousled his hair, and donned his silk robe.
As his habit was to sleep in the buff, he wore nothing beneath his silk robe. He pushed the door in, expecting to see her there—but only found a curtain fluttering in the empty. Instantly, his eyes latched onto the almost closed door that led to his room and grunting irritably, he strode to it.
What on earth had she come for?
Oh God, oh God, oh God, what have I done?
Frantic, Ariadne began to pace the space at the end of her bed while wringing her hands.
The moonlight bathed her room in a silvery sheen, highlighting the subtle hues of the faded wallpaper adorned with floral motifs.
A gentle breeze whispered through the open window, carrying with it the faint fragrance of blooming roses from the nearby gardens.
Foolish, so foolish.
Pausing to suck in a breath, she did not see any of the rich furniture around her; instead, she saw him. The torchlight had burnished his inky hair, kissed the divinely handsome contours of the unmarred side of his face.
She saw the web of tightly knit skin, the ridges of his scar whitening against taut skin, his every muscle drawn with the injury. Below the taut skin of half his torso, sleek muscles had rippled with unmistakable power.
The unmarred side chest had resembled cut slabs of granite, no hint of softness or an ounce of fat on him, while a sprinkling of bronze hair drew her gaze downward like a magnet toward the lean ridges of his abdomen, down past the prominent vee of muscle girdling his hips, to his…
“I need to apologize,” she said as her face flushed red. She had seen him, all of him, without his permission.
She swallowed, her mouth dry. She’d seen anatomically correct models of the nude male form, but evidently, that drawing did not accurately depict that part of a man’s anatomy—at least not this man's.
A wave of dizziness washed over her. “He must be a satyr instead.”
She jumped a foot in the air when the door was mercilessly yanked open, and Cedric walked in, his eyes narrowed, his dark hair dripping on his silk robe.
“Do you care to tell me what that was about?” he demanded.
He is not happy.
“I—I—” her words failed her while the pit of her stomach knotted in a delicious melody of attraction and fear. She swallowed and dredged up the courage. Nudging her chin up, she said, “Well, it is our wedding night.”
His brow ticked up. “You want to consummate this marriage?”
“Isn’t that what is needed of us?” she asked bravely.
Cocking his head to his left, he gave her a long stare, and soon enough, the emotion that darkened his eyes was nothing less than devilish. “Very well,” he went to the tie of his robe. “We can start now.”
“Now?” she squeaked.
“Now,” he repeated, as he lowered his robe and watched as her eyes ran over his skin. His cocky smirk changed to a knowing twist as she stayed immobile.
“You’re having second thoughts, I assume?”
Her throat bobbed, trying to moisturize the arid scrape inside. She looked up bravely. “No. I am not reneging on my decisions.”
His breath puffed out like an incensed bull’s. “Stop the pretense, Ariadne, you find me vile. Children shrink from me in terror, ladies whisper behind their fans, and gentlemen avert their eyes. You are no better.”
Anger spiked up her spine. “That is not it! Do not dare put words in my mouth.”
His eyes ran over her. “Then what is it?”
“Have you never considered that someone who had never been with a man could be nervous about such a thing?” The words tumbled out of her mouth with no barrier.
She took a step closer, her red-cheeked, apple-scented outrage inflaming his senses. A vein throbbed at his temple, irritated more at himself than at her.
“Then why try?” He demanded.
Ariadne straightened her spine and flexed her fist on her side. “It’s a wife’s duty.”
His eyes narrowed, “You want to consummate the marriage when you have not even been kissed before? Don’t make me laugh, pet.”
She flushed. “How do you know I haven’t been kissed before?”
Holding back another derisive snort, he said. “It’s written all over you. You display all the naiveté and hopeless ideals of a virginal girl with ideals gained from those damned books. If you were ever kissed, I will eat my boots.”
Her lips fell open in shock before she shook her head in disbelief. Crossing her arms, she glared, “And you’re scared!”
Brows flying to his hairline, he demanded, “Scared? Of what?”
“Of people judging you, so you make sure to shut yourself off first,” Ariadne said. “You throw up walls to keep people away in the preemptive chance they will hurt you.” She had the audacity to jab a finger at him. “What you are, Your Grace, is terrified.”
His fingers curled as invisible threads of energy spun tautly around them. “You’re dreaming, sweetling, because it’s past your bedtime,” he bit out.
Her eyes flashed. “Do not treat me like I’m a child, you bounder!”
“You wish to be treated as a woman? I’ll give you what you want then.” In a reflex, swift and fierce, Cedric’s hand shot out, grasping her wrist firmly. Before he could stop himself, he yanked her into his arms and slammed his mouth over hers.
Startled at being kissed, she brought her arms up and pushed him away, but not too far. “Is this how you respond to me not being kissed before? To kiss me that way? With no preamble or warning?”
“You didn’t like it.”
Ariadne pinked. “Well…no…”
“Let’s try that again.”
He lowered his mouth to hers again. Much to her astonishment, the touch of his lips was the most remarkable thing she’d ever experienced in the entirety of her life.
Their lips crashed together with a passion only hindered by his restraint, overwhelmed by the taste of her, the urge to deepen the kiss consuming him.
Cedric’s lips roamed over hers with masterful intensity, and her heart thumped recklessly and uncontrollably. She could not think, she could barely breathe; her lips clung to his desperately as his kiss grew more potent.
His kiss weakened her knees, and he caught her against the wall; Ariadne shivered when his tongue swept across her bottom lip. Amid their intense embrace, Ariadne’s hand drifted up to his face again, and again, her slender fingers sank into his hair.
His body angled her back, seemingly overpowering her, but she did not feel overwhelmed. The breadth of his hard chest pressed against her breasts, and she let out a little shiver of delight at the sensation.
One of his hands cupped the nape of her neck, angling her head so that he could kiss her deeper. Her entire body felt off balance, utterly alert to the room, to the world, to him.
His mouth opened wider, and he seemed to be stealing the breath from her very lungs, but it was not an unpleasant thing. In fact, every moment tossed her from cloud to cloud, making her feel completely alive.
Was such a thing possible? It certainly seemed so.
She’d never been touched like this before, and pressed up against the wall, her breathing was ragged as something thick was digging into her lower belly.
She pulled her head away, blinking with the certain realization that… for her first kiss, that was not what she had expected.
Did he have something in his pocket?
Expecting his face to reflect the same riotous feeling inside her heart, Ariadne was taken aback—another time—when she saw his eyes were lowered and his expression closed off.
Did he feel nothing? How was that possible?
The darkness around him mingled with his hair as he took another step away. “You should go, Ariadne. You’re not ready for what you think you want.”
He was right.
“I apologize, Your Gr— Cedric” she managed to correct herself. “I never should have come. It was a mistake.”
Turning on her heel, she tempered her steps, trying not to run like a mouse under the gaze of a hungry tiger, got to her door and slipped inside. Her heart was pounding a primal beat under her breastbone and all she could do was to sink onto the waiting bed before she collapsed.
What has she been thinking?
How did I think the night would have gone?
Utterly mortified, she reached for a pillow and sunk her face into it. Would Cedric hold this over her head forever? How would she get over this shame?
It was best that she get some sleep and forget this whole night had happened. Reaching for her pillow, she punched it into shape and resting her head on it, tried to fall into sleep.
Two hours and despite the serene ambiance, Ariadne found sleep still did not come. Her mind filled with scattered thoughts and restless yearnings as she slipped from the bed and opened her window to gaze at the full moon.
The day had been laden with too many emotions, and now they all swirled through her brain in a frenzy.
Grief, worry, anxiety, passion, shame.
And now, his kiss.
As if a veil had been peeled off, she realized what kissing truly was and how such contact with a man’s lips affected her inside. Her lips still tingled with the memory of his lips on hers.
For a crazy moment during that earth-shattering kiss, the idea of allowing him to consummate the marriage had not appalled her; that in fact, it had briefly thrilled her, it sent her mind into turmoil.
No, she couldn’t be feeling this way. She had suppressed and conquered these urges. She was not a lightskirt or a harlot. No true lady had these feelings. Attraction and dare she say… desire, were the emotions of a lady of the night.
A proper lady managed her house and bore her husband his heir; at least that was what her parent’s relationship had shown her.
Back to bed, she flopped on her back, she sighed. “What if I am wrong? Who can I talk to someone about this without it being… strange?”