Chapter 23
Alight gust of wind blew through the open windows of the carriage as they rolled along at a leisurely pace. Royce had remained silent, staring at the houses as they passed, leaving Della wondering if she should speak first or if the silence was keeping his surly temper in check.
“I am sorry,” Royce mumbled, turning to look at her.
“Whatever for?” Della asked, feigning ignorance.
“I am sorry for how I behaved tonight. It is just…” He sighed, dragging his hands down his face. “I was not prepared for how I would feel seeing you dance with other men.”
“It never seemed to bother you before.”
“You were not my wife before,” he replied. “I am not proud of how I acted.”
“You mean like a fool? Perhaps even a bit jealous?”
Della could have continued, but there was no need. Royce was probably berating himself just fine without any help from her.
He said nothing but gently placed a hand on her knee, drawing idle circles with his thumb in silent acknowledgement. Even through the layers of her dress, his touch sent shivers racing to all parts of her body.
“Follow me,” Della whispered, her voice filled with excitement as they arrived home. She grabbed Royce’s hand and guided him upstairs to their room.
At some point during their short marriage, they had silently decided that Royce’s room would be where they spent most of their nights. Though occasionally they used her room for a change of scenery or because it just happened to be the closest bed.
“Wait here,” Della instructed Royce. “I want to make sure everything is in place for your surprise.”
“My surprise?” he asked.
“Yes. It is my turn to finally do something for you.”
“I know something else I would like to do,” Royce said with a sly smile, as he grabbed the front of Della’s dress and pulled her toward him.
“None of that.” Della playfully swatted his hands away. “Now, wait here, and do not come in until I tell you to.”
“But—”
Della did not give Royce a chance to finish what he was saying before she shut the door in his face to keep him from following. Quickly running to the dressing room, Della spotted the translucent nightgown and robe she had requested Abigail to set out for her and undressed. She had chosen her outfit for the ball with tonight in mind so she could do everything herself.
Finally divesting herself of her clothing, Della slipped on the nightgown and robe and made her way back into their bedroom, where champagne and strawberries were waiting. The warmth from the fireplace did little to ease Della’s nerves as she sat on the settee. She truly hoped Royce would enjoy what she had planned.
“You can come in now,” Della called out.
The door opened, and there stood Royce, handsome as always and looking far more comfortable than he had at the ball. He had removed his coat and undone his cravat, which hung loosely around his neck, his sleeves rolled up, exposing his forearms.
“Come sit by me.” Della patted the spot next to her, and as Royce closed the door with a sharp kick, she could feel the excitement building in her chest. His eyes seemed to brighten at the sight of the champagne she offered to him…or maybe the nightgown she was wearing. She was not sure which. “To our marriage and our life together,” Della said, smiling at Royce as he sat next to her.
Royce clinked his glass against hers and continued to stare at her, making Della feel like thousands of tiny butterflies were flitting about in her stomach.
“Would you care for a strawberry?” Della set her drink down and reached for a small bowl of sugar that had been crushed into a fine, almost powdery texture. “My mother used to eat strawberries this way. You simply hold the strawberry by the stem and roll it around in the sugar, like so,” she said, holding it up in front of Royce.
Royce remained silent as he firmly gripped her wrist and led her hand, with the strawberry, toward his mouth. Della’s throat went dry, and her pulse quickened as she watched his lips lock around the sugar-coated fruit. She was trying her hardest to seduce him, but it seemed like he was the one doing the seducing, as flames from the fire danced in his eyes.
Unable to resist, she set the bowl of sugar down, tossed the strawberry stem on the table, and leaned forward to lick the sugar crystals from his lips. With a low growl, Royce leaned Della back and braced himself over her. Their lips met, and her body grew excited as his hand moved toward where she craved him the most.
“No,” Della said with a gasp as Royce nipped at her neck. “Tonight is for you.” Della’s lips met Royce’s for a final kiss before she pushed him away, running her hands over his body as she sank to her knees before him.
“Della,” Royce whispered hoarsely.
Della’s fingers brushed against the fall of his breeches, and she looked up to see the hazy look of desire in Royce’s eyes. With each button she unfastened, Della could feel her own desire building, and wondered if he would be receptive to some of the same things he had done to her. With a flick of her fingers, she undid the last button, and his cock sprang free, seeming eager for attention.
Tentatively wrapping her hand around the base of his cock, Della lightly skimmed the tip of her tongue along the sensitive underside, watching Royce’s face contort in pleasure. He reached down and placed his hand over hers, demonstrating with his own movements how he wanted to be touched.
Following his lead, Della searched for a pace he enjoyed. When she found it, he released his grip, and she continued alone, determined to give him as much pleasure as she could. Her hand continued to move up and down as she slipped her lips over the tip and took him into her mouth.
Della knew tonight would not make up even a fraction of what Royce had given her, but…it was a start. She closed her eyes, letting the taste of him fill her senses as her mouth moved in tandem with her hand. Then, with unexpected swiftness, Royce took hold of her arms and lifted her up to sit beside him.
“Did I do something wrong?” Della asked, unsure if she should be upset that Royce stopped her so abruptly.
“Wrong?” Royce laughed. “By gods, Della, if you had done anything more right, it would have been over before we even got started. I need you,”—he said darkly, pulling her over to straddle him—“now.”
Royce stood up, and Della felt a rush of excitement as she wrapped her legs around him, enjoying the sensation of being held so close. His powerful arms circled around her body as he placed a searing kiss on her lips and walked them over to the bed.
“This has to go,” Royce said, tossing Della onto the bed.
Instead of gently pulling the nightgown off over her head, he grabbed at the neckline and ripped the gown down the middle, splitting the front in two.
“I will have you know I liked that gown,” Della said, looking down at the now destroyed garment.
“I will buy you a hundred more if it means we will have more nights like this.” Royce stepped back and divested himself of his clothing. “Are you willing to try something new?”
Della nodded, her skin tingling with the thrill of anticipation. Royce motioned for her to flip onto her stomach, then pulled her up on all fours so that her backside was even with his hips. Looking over her shoulder, she saw Royce place himself at her entrance before slowly pushing forward.
She felt herself sinking deeper into ecstasy with every push and pull of Royce’s hips. Each movement he made feeling like a revelation as he stretched her, filled her; solidifying the love she had already had for him.
Royce’s hand skimmed up her back before he gently pushed her front down to the bed, causing her hips to raise, and the sensitive tips of her breasts to drag across the fabric, creating a sensation that only sped up the climb.
Della gripped the sheets tightly as Royce picked up speed, causing her to climb higher and higher until she felt as though she were standing on the brink of something truly extraordinary. With one last thrust, she shattered, and yelled three words that brought everything to an abrupt halt.
“What?” Royce asked, not moving a muscle.
“I said, I love you,” Della repeated.
“No.” Royce shook his head. “You cannot, you do not.”
His words had a sharpness and precision that only a skilled archer could match, piercing her heart and splintering it into a million tiny pieces. The silence in the room thick with tension as Royce withdrew from her and reached for his breeches on the floor. Della scrambled for a sheet to cover herself and stared at Royce in utter disbelief.
“But I can, and I do. I have been in love with you for many years. And even if you do not feel the same, I know you care for me, or at least I thought you did.”
Royce stood in the center of the room with his breeches hanging loosely on his hips, not saying a word as he looked at anything but her. “Falling in love with me was a stupid thing to do.”
Della scoffed, “Yes, stupid me. Stupid, silly girl who always hoped that a certain man might notice her as more than just a friend. Now that man is standing here, married to that stupid, silly girl as she hands him her heart.” Tears welled up in her eyes as she took a deep breath and swiped them away.
“What else do you want me to say?”
“You do not need to say anything, Your Grace,” Della said with a calmness she did not feel as she rose from the bed, keeping the sheet wrapped around her. “You have already said enough.”
Padding across the floor, Della placed her hand on the doorknob and let a quiet sob escape as she looked over her shoulder.
“We do not choose who we love—love chooses us. And whether or not you want my love, you have it just the same.”
She had shut the door softly, but the sound seemed to ricochet around the room like a gunshot as he absentmindedly rubbed at the dull pain in his chest. Royce had convinced himself in that moment that Della needed time to let her anger subside. But in truth, he had needed that time to gain the courage to apologize.
Eventually, he went to her room, only to find the sheet that had been wrapped around her naked body lying across the bed. He searched their home and garden, then finally went to the stables to see if Demeter was still there, but the stall was empty.
Quickly placing a saddle on Titan, Royce raced toward one of the two places Della might have gone.
He only hoped he had chosen the right one.
A short while later, Royce charged up to the Rowntree residence, practically throwing himself from the saddle as he brought Titan to a stop.
Stalking down the path leading to the garden, he found himself barred by a gate with a large lock. He knew it was of no use, but he grabbed the iron bars and shook them vigorously, anyway.
“Della!” Royce yelled, hoping she might hear him. But even if she could, he would not blame her for ignoring him. The wounded look in her eyes when he had rejected her words had made him want to carve out his heart and give it to her, but he had been a coward. He had let her leave, thinking he did not want her.
The household was probably awake by now, but he did not care as he stalked to the front door.
Bang, Bang, Bang
“Della!” Royce yelled again, beating on the front door.
Still, no answer came.
Under the mistaken belief that she had to repay him for everything he had done for her, Della had gone to great lengths to arrange a surprise for him. And though she never needed to repay any kindness he showed her, to know she cared enough to return the favor meant the world to him.
But he had ruined it. Had carelessly dismissed her words and tossed them aside as if they had meant nothing, possibly destroying the love she said she had for him forever.
Leaning against the door, Royce slid to the ground, and let his head fall back with a dull thud, wondering how long he was going to be made to sit out here looking like the fool he was. Suddenly, the door was pulled open, and Royce found himself unceremoniously sprawled on his back across the threshold.
Mr. Rowntree’s kind countenance stared down at him. “Mucked it up, did you?”
Royce simply nodded.
“I was thinking you some sort of god among men that you had not messed it all up sooner than this.”
“We have been married less than a fortnight,” Royce said, still lying on the ground.
“That is true, but I only made it three days.” Mr. Rowntree laughed, holding out his hand to help Royce to his feet. “Let us go to the study and talk, shall we?”
“Brandy?” Mr. Rowntree asked, pouring two glasses.
Royce shook his head.
“No? Well, more for me then.” Mr. Rowntree poured Royce’s portion into his own. He took a sip and wandered over to a chair, motioning for Royce to sit down.
“I must apologize for the lateness of the hour. Della—”
“Della has informed me of what happened.”
“I see,” Royce said, hoping Della had not told her father everything. “Did she tell you what an arse I was?”
“She did, among a few other things, but that about sums it up.” Mr. Rowntree smiled, taking another sip.
“Della told me she loves me—has loved for many years. But how could she possibly know something like that?”
“You are not the first man to ask such a question, nor will you be the last. Love is something man has struggled with since time began. Women, on the other hand—“he shrugged his shoulder—”never seem to question it. Though exceptions exist, loving unconditionally seems to come more naturally to them.”
“I care for her more than I can say. But I let her—”Royce shook his head—“I let her leave, thinking she meant nothing to me.”
“What you fail to realize, Your Grace, is that we do not choose who we love—love chooses us.” Mr. Rowntree stood and went to the sideboard.
Royce let out an exasperated laugh. “Della said those exact words to me before she left.”
“Della is a smart woman…takes after her father.” Mr. Rowntree winked. “I loved my wife very much, and still do. She always lit up a room with her presence. But when she passed, I became so consumed by my grief, I ignored everything else. Then, late one night, when I was about to go to bed, I saw Della sneak into the study. I watched her through the open door as she sat next to her mother’s chair and cried. In that moment, I realized how selfish I had been. I was not the only one who had lost someone.”
“Your mother may have lost her husband, but she still had you and your brothers and sisters. You are all a part of her most cherished memories with your father. And I know without doubt it was their love of each other and their children that made, and continues to make, her life worth living.” He swirled his glass around. “My suggestion to you: do not fight it. Instead, fight for it.”
Royce did not know if he could ever say those three words to Della. But as he looked at her father, he saw a man not made weaker by love, but stronger because of it.
“Well, it is time for this old man to get some sleep,” Mr. Rowntree said, tossing back the rest of his drink. “Just so you know…she may be your wife, but she will always be my daughter. No matter the circumstance, my door will always remain open to her.”
Royce nodded his understanding and read the meaning in words left unsaid, ‘whenever you muck something up.’
“She really does love you; you know. Do not do anything to lose it, hmm?”
With that, Mr. Rowntree left the study, leaving Royce to think over his parting words.
Royce walked over to the fireplace as the clock on the mantle chimed the hour; it was late. He was uncertain how this night would end, but standing here was not getting him any closer to obtaining Della’s forgiveness.