Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
“It is improper of you to let another man touch you that way.” Cedric’s voice rumbled from the middle of his chest.
Lord Stromwell huffed as he plunked a mounting block at Cedric’s feet. “There you go, you taskmaster.”
“Step up,” Cedric replied.
Wordlessly, she obeyed, and he grasped her waist with a firm grip and unceremoniously placed her on the saddle. He gave her instructions on where to put her feet so she could sit sidesaddle.
“This feels… odd,” she said.
“You’ll grow into it,” he said. “I’ll have a trainer teach you from here on. Tomorrow, you’ll find a modiste and order riding habits.”
“I suppose I can ask Clara,” Ariadne said, then shot him a look. “Lady Hamden.”
“I know who she is,” he took the lead and began to walk the horse around the paddock.
Gasping, Ariadne began to rock with the horse’s gait, but she did not grasp the reins in fear. After walking around the paddock once, Cedric looked over at Ariadne. “Do you think you can walk on your own?”
She nodded, “Just tell me what to do.”
He gave her simple instructions on how to use her feet, the reins, and the crop to spur the horse into walking, and he stepped aside as she took the first few steps.
She still swayed, and his body was poised to dart forward in case she did tumble over—but she never did. A quiet pride was born in his chest when he realized she was holding her own.
“Do you feel like a heel yet?” Silas asked from beside him.
He grunted.
“Use your words, barbarian.”
Slanting his friend a look, Cedric said, “I apologize for attacking you.”
Snorting, Silas braced a boot on the rung of the fence while crossing his arms on the top of a post. “I’m simply flabbergasted because you were never this possessive over Helena, and to see it with a lady you never planned on marrying....”
“I am not possessive over her,” he grunted as Ariadne managed to spur her horse into a trot.
“Of course you’re not,” Silas replied sarcastically. “You nearly took my head off for nothing.”
“You know how this marriage came about,” Cedric said, while scrubbing a hand over his face. “I did it to save her face, but I—I haven’t been kind to her.”
“Why?” Silas asked, his brows furrowing.
“I—I suppose, in the back of my mind, I kept reflecting on how I felt being betrayed by Helena, and I wanted to protect myself. You know, that to this day, we have never found out the man she wanted to run away with.”
Silas’ face fell, “I know. But you have to let that stay in the past. You are self-sabotaging your chances of finding happiness again if you keep judging everyone by the pain she left you with.”
It’s not only me she left, but she left Emily, as well. I truly think if she had not died in the fire, she would have grown even more resentful of me. Emily would never have had a mother.
Cedric knew his friend was speaking the truth, but he had to actively believe it before he could ever move on. He felt when Silas elbowed his arm and nodded to Ariadne. “It looks like she is ready to come down.”
Ariadne was, in fact, looking down at the mounting block, unsure if jumping three feet from the back of a horse was the smart thing to do. Pushing off the fence, he strode to her and rested a hand on the horse’s neck.
“Maneuver your leg out from under the pommel,” he said. “And rest your hands on my shoulder.”
He did not take his gaze off Ariadne; she was so, so close, and he watched as her eyes, alive and bright, piercing in their regard, flitted from him to the mounting block.
He was intrigued by the shape of her lips, how wide and full they were, how the top one was slightly larger than her lower lip.
They were not pink but red and were wet now, still, soft and plump and beckoning. She still did not blush, even when she found him staring at her mouth.
To his shame, all else faded from his awareness. It would be so easy to lean forward, easy to feel her lips again… He felt a long-forgotten heat and now an ache for more.
She blinked twice, boldly staring at him, and Cedric wondered if she was trying to make sense of what just happened as well.
Silas cleared his throat behind them, and it jarred him to reality; he stepped back and lifted her to the ground. “We need to go and speak to the orphanage manager.”
. Ariadne knew herself to be a good judge of character, and everything about Stephen Maximilian exuded goodness and care. The headmaster of the orphanage was a gentle man in a plain suit and spectacles that framed blue eyes.
The man beside him—not so much. Clad in a tailored suit with a brocade waistcoat, this man was lean, his eyes were hard onyx, his brows black slashes, his cheekbones blade-sharp beneath his pale skin. When he inclined his head, not a single strand of ebony hair fell out of place.
“Mr. Maxmilian, and Mr. Draven, may I introduce my wife, Ariadne. Ariadne, Maxmilian is the curator of the orphanage, and Draven is my steward.”
Oh, that explains the sharpness in his eyes. Cedric has the same look.
Both men bowed and greeted her, but Ariadne felt herself being drawn to Stephen.
“Thank you, Your Grace, for this outing,” he said, fixing his round spectacles. “The children really needed a reprieve from the schoolwork and the work the older ones do around town.”
“Work?” Ariadne echoed, her brows knotting. “What kind of work do you mean?”
“The older girls work at the local seamstress and wash for the lady in our village,” Stephen said.
“The boys do farm work and sell at the market. The younger ones keep gardens in the land around the house, and it’s not much, but the children do contribute to the house with their goods.
The ones who earn money do keep what they earn. ”
That sounds reasonable.
“I keep suggesting that those who earn should give their money to you to help with their keep, but you won’t hear a word of it,” Draven chuckled, but Ariadne did not find the humor in it.
“Pardon me, Your Grace, and my lords,” an adolescent boy said as he held the two-year-old lad in his arms. “Sir, Tobey is hungry.”
“The sandwiches are in the coach,” Stephen said.
“Sandwiches?” Cedric frowned. “I instructed that you could have luncheon at the town’s assembly room.”
Stephen shook his head, “I am sorry, Your Grace, but I had not received that message.”
Turning to Draven, he asked, “You did send that message off, did you not?”
“I did,” the steward said. “I have the postage record if you need to see it. The only explanation is that it was lost in transit.”
As the two spoke, Stephen’s eyes flickered between them, apprehensively; the lad beside him did the same.
“Nevertheless,” Cedric said, “You may eat whatever you brought, but you will have the luncheon in the assembly room.” He called a footman to his side and sent him off to the town’s assembly room to have them prepare meals for the thirty children and their headmaster.
Something flickered over Draven’s face, but Ariadne could not place it.
“Thank you, Your Grace,” Stephen bowed before he pawned the boy of the young lad, “Please, excuse us.”
As the man went off, Draven said, “I understand your generosity, Your Grace, but the cost—”
“Fifteen pounds will not create a crater in my pocket,” Cedric waved his steward off. “Now, I need to speak with Stromwell, and my wife and I will be heading home.”
Ariadne gave Draven a small smile before turning and striding away with Cedric to find Silas.
The hairs on the back of her head lifted high with a strange feeling.
It was not quite apprehension, nor was it fear.
She did not know what to make of it, so Ariadne shelved it in the back of her mind to analyze later.
They found Silas in the stable, undressing Eliza and brushing her down. Shocked that he was doing the manual work himself, when she was sure he had a legion of grooms at his beck and call.
He looked up at them and shook his head. Before Cedric could open his mouth, he said, “You’re leaving, aren’t you?”
“We are,” Cedric said. “Do you have everything under control here?”
“Absolutely,” Silas rested a blanket on the horse’s back and gave them a small smile. “As I offered before, Your Grace, if you need riding lessons, my men are available.”
“Thank you,” Ariadne replied. “But Cedric is going to find me a private tutor.”
He inclined his head. “All the best to you.”
After shaking hands with him, Cedric dropped a hand to the small of her back and ushered her out of the stables and to their carriage.
“Home,” he told the driver before closing the door.
Instantly, he leaned forward and removed his jacket before he stuck a finger into the knot of the cravat and tugged it loose, “Sometimes, I feel like these things are decapitating me.”
She snorted, “Try putting on a corset.”
He rolled his eyes, “Did you enjoy today?”
“I did,” Ariadne replied. “But I don’t understand you.”
“What do you mean?” he pressed.
“Days ago, you said I should stick to the schedule, and now you offer me my own garden. Then, I felt as if you were going to stick to your vow to have this marriage in name only, and then you kiss me. That was my first kiss and I—”
“You came to me to consummate the marriage,” he said, “I thought it was a simple compromise.”
She pressed her lips tight, “I enjoy games, my lord,” she said.
“What games?”
“The mixed messages, the uncertainty with you.” Her voice trembled. “How you flash hot and cold, it leaves me lukewarm, like earlier today when we were on the paddock. It looked like you were about to kiss me again.”
“Do you want me to kiss you again?” he asked.
Ariadne felt backed into a corner by her own words.
Did she want him to kiss her again?
The way he was staring at her felt like a solid, warm point of contact, as if his hands were skimming over her bare skin.
Goose pimples erupted over her skin, the tips of her breasts stiffening, rising beneath her stays.
Warmth liquefied and pooled in her belly.
Her heart thumping, she forced herself to meet his gaze.
“It’s not—” she licked her lips. “It’s not what I thought my first kiss would be like.”
“I can remedy that,” he said and reached out. Grasping her arm, his fingers were strong, callused against the sensitive underside of her wrist. He pulled her from her seat and right against him.
Her body landed on his, a shocking collision of softness against hardness. Before she could gather her wits, his mouth sealed over hers, his kiss stealing her breath.
Everything about him felt right; familiar yet new and exciting. The texture of his lips, hard yet silky, made her feel swoony. She had a hint of his taste: darkly male and tantalizing.
His tongue flickered over her lips, asking for entrance, and when she opened for him, his tongue swept through her mouth in a powerful sweep. Squished against his hard chest, her breasts felt full and sensitive, the stiff tips chafing against her corset.
Her thoughts turned hazy as his kiss consumed her senses. She tasted faint coffee and whisky; his lips were firm, warm, and roaming over hers.
There wasn’t anything to do but to surrender to him, to the need now bubbling inside her. She melted into his hold, at the demanding plunge of his tongue dissolving her resistance.
She tried to pull him closer, but he cupped her face and controlled the kiss. The rasp of his stubble against her cheeks sent a wave of heat over her skin.
Held steady by him, she felt both overwhelmed yet safe. When she pulled away to suck in a breath, he pulled away to tongue the rim of her ear, and she quivered. He sucked the lobe into his mouth, and the warm tug seemed to pull at her very core, releasing a damp gush.
She was panting and perspiring now, tingling in unmentionable places. She was aware of a gnawing sensation in her belly, a craving that had nothing to do with wanting food.
This must be desire.
Dimly, she realized that the carriage was still moving, the dull sound of the horses clip-clopping along just outside the window.
This was the same Cedric, and she was the same Ariadne… yet everything felt different…changed.
She peeled her eyes open and gazed at him in wonder. “I never knew.”
“Knew what?” She tried to explain.
“What all the…the fuss about kissing was.”
His lips curved. “And now you do?”
“I’d say so,” her chest heaved as she sat back into her abandoned seat. Swallowing, she asked, “Does this… does this change anything?”
“I do not know how substantial it will be,” he said while rolling his neck. “But yes, it does change something.”
Ariadne did not push him to explain more; all she could do was reel with the reality that she had had her first real kiss, one she did want and felt a bit fearful that this might have birthed something she would never get again.
“I want to invite one of my sisters to come and see me,” she said. “Would that be all right?”
“Yes,” he replied, “Again, Ariadne, you do not need to ask me permission to do things you want. All I ask is that you wait for a while before this blows off from the scandal sheets and the breakfast buffets of the ton. After that, as long as it is safe and necessary, you can do whatever you want.”
She smiled, “I’ll remember that.”
The next morning, she had made it to her meeting room to find a schedule on her desk right next to a stack of mail.
It clearly highlighted the priorities of her day. Cedric had revised her schedule with written-in periods for her to speak with the land manager and garden, times to interact with Emily, and of course, periods were also designated for rest and leisure activities.
So the man is not as inflexible as he seems.
She was beginning to realize that Cedric did not show his affection with words, but his actions conveyed his affection louder than words ever could.
Ariadne was also realizing that Cedric was very, very hesitant on making a connection— any connection, not for the fear of being judged, but because of being hurt.
What on earth did his late wife do to him?
He might call it control, but what he truly needed was someone to trust. She was sensing his loneliness, and it drew her, because she felt that way at times, withdrawn and bleak about finding anyone to love and care for.
I’ll have to gain his trust first.
Cedric was staring out into the window; his now solitary pose made her heart twist a little. He looked so... alone, as if he was Atlas carrying the weight of the world on his broad shoulders.
Pressing her fingertips to her lips, she smiled behind her hand. I know what to do now.