Chapter 12 #4
His wife was already there, her hand on a pillar, looking toward the bonfire on the opposite shore of the lake. He still couldn’t quite believe it—that she had arranged a rendezvous with a man she actively disliked, just to spite him.
“Beautiful, isn’t it, this house?” she said without glancing behind her. “I used to study a tiny picture of it, and imagine how it would look in person, lit up like this, impossibly majestic against the night.”
He had come to tell her that he had already dispatched Drummond—by letting it be known that a man to whom Drummond owed a large gaming debt would be among those coming to watch the fireworks at midnight.
Drummond had fled almost before Felix had stopped speaking, rather to Felix’s disappointment.
He would have preferred to enjoy the man’s panic for a bit longer.
Her head tilted up. “And such stars. Have I ever told you of my interest in astronomy? I have always been intrigued by the night sky, ever since I was a child. To think that there is a vast universe out there, full of deep, marvelous unknowns.”
She had never told him, directly, of her fascination with the stars. Never allowed him to share her sense of wonder.
“But you didn’t come to hear me prattle on. Please proceed with what we’ve agreed upon.”
He felt a burning in his throat. What we’ve agreed upon.
What had they agreed upon?
He meant to speak, to let her know that Drummond had vacated the premises. Instead, he found himself standing directly behind her, his hands on her cool, bare arms.
She trembled. With disgust—or desire? How could she feel anything for that dunce, whom Felix tolerated only because he was nephew to Felix’s former guardian?
He kissed her hair, the lobe of her ear, the side of her neck, his fingers spreading over her collarbone.
“Such a workmanlike approach, sir. No praise for my slender throat or my velvety skin?”
He bit her shoulder in response, not hard, just enough for her to emit a sob of arousal.
“Did you bring the blindfold?” she asked, her voice unsteady.
His hand tightened. That, too, was a fantasy that belonged to them. She couldn’t have displayed a little originality and found something different for Drummond to do?
He took off his scarf and used it to blindfold her.
She turned around. A little hesitantly, her hand lifted and felt its way to his jaw. Could she not tell that it was him?
“I used to dream of riding in a glass carriage, naked and blindfolded. There was a man in the carriage with me. It doesn’t matter who the man was. All that matters is that—”
He silenced her with a hard kiss. He could take no more of her cruel words; nor could he care anymore that he was giving in to his obsession.
She kissed him back almost as bruisingly, her hands gripping his hair. He pushed her against the pillar as she dragged his shirt up, her hands hungry for his skin.
He had no recollection of either shoving aside her skirts or freeing himself from the encumbrance of his trousers. The next thing he knew was a desperate upward plunge as he entered her—and the gasps that echoed between them.
The ferocity of her lips, the avarice of her hands, the sheer, agonizing scorch of her person. He didn’t know how he remembered to clamp a palm over her mouth—perhaps only when he heard someone calling, from no more than fifteen feet away, “Quick. The fireworks are about to start.”
Their own fireworks ignited first. He barely protested before surrendering to the demonic pleasures of her body clenching and shuddering about his.
She was heavenly. Her hair smelled of chamomile, her skin was paradise, her hips beneath his hands sweetly pliant.
But reality seeped back, winding a cord of dismay around his heart, softly, nearly imperceptibly. Then there came a sharp, cruel yank.
She’d let Drummond touch her. Invade her. Spill his seed inside her.
He stumbled back a step. Then another.
Her breaths were still erratic, but she calmly shook and rearranged her skirts. Just as calmly, she took off her blindfold.
The hour was late and the torches that lit the pavilion were guttering. But he could see her face clearly, and she must see his just as well. He waited for her shock and outrage. Neither came. She only cast him a look halfway between desire and loathing, turned, and walked away.
He reached out and grabbed her by the arm. “I was never going to sleep with Lady Tremaine.”
She pried his hand from her person. “And I told Drummond to stay away from the pavilion, because of the wasps.”
And then she was gone, marching to the explosion of fireworks overhead.
* * *
It was not long after Louisa lay down in bed that her husband joined her. He didn’t speak, but only kissed and caressed her in the darkness, until she could no longer remain still and silent.
He spread her arms to the sides, linked their fingers together, and drove into her, wreaking havoc with every thrust.
She lost count of the number of times he brought her to pleasure. Enough to make tears roll down her face, when she was once again alone, sometime in the small hours of the night.