Chapter 21
Evelyn couldn’t stop staring at Asher.
Her husband.
Who had chosen her. Time and again. Above scandal, above his reputation, above anyone else who might judge him or his family.
Her throat was tight as the world sharpened around him and she had to blink away tears.
She ignored all of the people now staring at her, at him, waiting for Lady Lancaster to do something, and focused only on Asher.
Why did he continue to sacrifice so much for her?
“Are you ready to leave?”
She whirled around. How had he gotten there, to her side, so quickly?
“Yes,” she said, her breath coming fast as a swirl of emotion rose inside of her.
She tried to find the words to thank him, but they wouldn’t come, and she realized it was because nothing seemed good enough for what he had just done for her.
“Yes, let’s go home,” she said instead, tucking her hand around his offered elbow and holding her head high as they strode out the door.
She realized she hadn’t said farewell to Verity, but her friend would understand the situation.
Evelyn tried to find the words in the carriage, but they remained stuck in her throat.
She tried to find them when Asher helped her with her cloak at the foyer, waving off the butler who came to help.
It wasn’t until they were climbing the stairs to the bedchamber that she knew she had to say something.
“Asher, I—”
He stopped, turned, and placed his hands on her waist, holding her still in front of her bedroom door.
“Don’t,” he said.
“Don’t what?”
“Thank me. There is no reason to. You are my wife, and we approach these things together now. If someone is spreading a rumor about you, they are spreading a rumor about me as well. I will not see you diminished — not by rumor, and certainly not by lies.”
His countenance softened a fraction, and it was like sunlight breaking through clouds, for Evelyn realized that whether he knew it or not, he had seen her for who she truly was, and not just as an obligation or a scandal.
“Be that as it may, your entire life has changed because of me,” she muttered. “I feel as though I have become a burden. In fact, Asher, I have been thinking…”
“Do not say anything foolish,” he warned with a look on his face that told her he wanted no argument, but she couldn’t help but continue anyway.
“Perhaps it would be better if I went to one of your country homes and make myself scarce.”
His face darkened, his entire countenance shifting in such a way that it was not the ducal air that returned but something else entirely — something darker, more possessive.
“Is that what you want?”
“I do not want to cause any further problems.”
“You do realize that you have done nothing wrong?” he said.
“Yes, but because of me—”
“Stop. Stop right now,” he said, the words coming out low and menacing. “I told you not to say anything foolish.”
“I hardly think that is foolish.”
“You being here does not make anything harder. Do not let the machinations of other people scare you away. You are stronger than that.”
“But—”
“Evelyn,” he said, stepping forward until they were but a breath apart. “You wear always this mask of calm, and I respect that. But sometimes, you need to get angry. Stand up for yourself. Don’t let others do what they please because you let them. Do you understand me?”
She nodded.
“I asked if you understood me.”
“Yes,” she breathed, looking up at him, her entire body tingling with awareness at this complete and total powerful show of masculinity.
Then he leaned down.
And he kissed her.
When his lips brushed against hers, she resisted for just a moment.
There was so much more she needed to say, more she needed to tell him, but right here, right now, she wanted to hold onto this moment with him, to sear this memory into her mind.
She could admit, to herself if to no one else, that she was falling for him, and she wanted nothing more than to lose herself in his arms and feel what it would be like to be held by him, loved by his body.
“I want to be with you,” she murmured. “To show you my thanks for all that you have done for me.”
He lifted his head to stare down at her, his brow furrowed.
“Do not do anything for me out of gratitude. Only out of desire for this. For me.”
“Oh, I want to,” she said, breathing a bit harder. “That, I can assure you.”
He nodded, those beautiful blue eyes seeming to stare right through her, assessing her. He seemed to come to some sort of acceptance, for then he lowered his head, kissing her again, tasting her, sighing into her, and she couldn’t help but melt against him.
Evelyn had completely forgotten that they were standing in the middle of the corridor where anyone could walk by and see them until he reached down, caught her thighs beneath the fabric of her gown, and lifted her off her feet up against him.
“What are you doing?” she gasped.
“Taking my bride to bed,” he growled as he kicked open the slightly ajar door to his bedroom and strode inside. “I can’t keep control around you much longer,” he said. “You’ve been testing my patience.”
“Have I, now?” she asked as she squeezed her legs around him, feeling warmth flood her body, pooling in the center where she was spread open against him.
She waited for him to lay her down on the bed, but instead, he turned around and sat back on it, lying all the way down until she was straddling him.
He wasn’t done, though, for he lifted his hands and palmed her breasts, flicking his thumb over her nipples, causing a moan to release from her throat.
With his skillful hands, he made her forget about all the rumors, all the hidden threats against them, all the reasons that she was trying to distance herself from him.
Instead of distance, she followed the need to be closer.
He must have known what she was thinking as he continued to rub slow circles around her nipples through her dress and chemise, before he lifted himself up to kiss her again.
“I’ve always thought you were the most beautiful woman,” he murmured against her lips as his hands began working the buttons on the back of her dress.
“Me?”
“Yes, you,” he said, seemingly indignant that she would think he was speaking of someone else.
“You didn’t even notice me at first!” she protested.
“I’m ashamed of that,” he admitted. “But once I saw you, I couldn’t look away.”
With some sort of magic, in a few moments, he had her dress off, and before she knew what was happening, she was now the one lying down on the bed before him, in nothing but her thin chemise.
She shivered, glad that she had worn one she particularly enjoyed, with beautiful lace edging around the sleeves and collar.
“Asher,” she whispered, hoping he understood what she didn’t know how to put into words — that she needed him.
His next actions told her that she had nothing to worry about.
His gaze roamed over her as he slowly slid the straps of the chemise over her shoulders, his eyes lighting up as they landed on her bare breasts. It was as if he were trying to take in every aspect of this coming together, to remember it for as long as he could.
“I tried to stay away, but I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” he said huskily. “I’ve been waiting for this for a long, long time.”
Evelyn was as desperate to see him as he was to see her, and she sat up, tugging on his cravat, throwing it to the floor beside them.
He watched her with dark, hungry eyes as she rose to her knees to unbutton his jacket, then his waistcoat, until she reached his shirt.
Her hands slid over his skin as she loosened it from his breeches and pulled it up, over his head.
His shoulders were broad, the ridges of his abdomen and the outline of his chest showing off muscles as strong as hers were soft, and she lost her breath for a moment that a man this powerful, one that half the women in England would have given anything for, was hers – at least, for tonight.
And now, with her, he was on the edge of his control, under her power as much as she was under his.
He leaned forward and kissed her neck, right above her collarbone, before working his way up, his stubble lightly scratching her skin, her every nerve on edge.
As she reached for the fall of his breeches, one of his hands found her breast again, and he pinched the tip, causing her to arch toward him, while she fought with his fall, unable to concentrate.
He smirked before inching back off the bed and fluidly pulling his breeches off, standing proudly before her as she could only stare.
Her mouth was likely wide open in shock, but he didn’t seem to mind.
His entire body was a hard lattice of ridges and grooves, some of his chest hair swirling over his muscles. And the way his erection was straining toward her — she tried to swallow but found she was barely capable at the sight before her.
“Lost your words?” he said, arching a brow. “Now you know how I feel.”
He reached out and, in one smooth motion, pulled her chemise off the rest of her body until she was as naked as he was, and suddenly she realized that this was more than just satisfying the need they felt for one another.
This coming together would be a true joining, a representation of their marriage, foretold as one of partnership, not of such passion.
The question dancing around her mind was whether it would be a passing moment or whether there could be a chance that they could hold onto this for longer.
She would worry about that later.
“Asher,” she whispered, almost in reverence, which only seemed to spur him on as he rejoined her on the bed, gently pushing her backward before hovering over her and brushing a kiss against her lips.
She wanted more and reached up, trying to find him, but he took her wrists between his hands, holding them over her head so that she was helpless before him.
And she loved it.
She ached for him in that place between her legs, and she shifted back and forth on the bed as she desperately waited for more.
He kissed her again, and then she felt him, hard and heavy, pressed up between her legs, and she sighed in satisfaction as she lifted her hips, seeking him.
He released her hands as he needed his own to play with her nipples again, and when he kissed her neck, she found herself winding up as she had the last time they were together.
Then his mouth found one breast, and she let out another cry that the entire household could likely hear.
But she didn’t care.
She was in bed with her husband. The duke and duchess could do as they pleased, especially behind closed doors.
So do as she pleased, she would.
“You are so beautiful. So responsive. Made for this. For me,” he murmured in her ear, his words causing her to come closer to the edge even more than his hands were — until he traced his fingers down her stomach, toying with her over the part of her that had been waiting for him, aching for him, all day.
All week. Since the moment she had met him, if she was being honest.
“Asher, I need more,” she managed, as she was both left relieved and craving from his touch.
“Just wait,” he said, and when he removed his hand and shifted backward, she nearly screamed at him.
That was, until he slid off the bed, pulled her to the edge, and settled his hands around her hips.
His fingers found her first, coming inside, stretching her, as she let out another moan while she found herself completely helpless to his touch, to his every decision. His other hand stroked her ankle as his eyes, hooded by his lids, moved from her face to where his fingers were working her.
“Does this feel good, Evelyn?”
“So good,” she moaned.
“Do you want me to stop?”
“Never.”
Then he leaned in, put his mouth on her, and she forgot everything, her focus only on him. On his touch. His fingers. His tongue. His lips.
Then he sucked on her, and she stopped thinking, only feeling. She gripped his hair and held on until his fingers curled inside of her while his mouth continued moving, and she fell over the edge.
Lost to him forever.