Chapter 20
“Adrian, you must go see to Bridget immediately,” Elara stated.
Adrian’s head shot up as his sister forewent pleasantries and started off the conversation with such strong words as she strode into his study. The ledgers before him were completely forgotten; he shot to his feet and walked around his desk.
“What happened?” he demanded.
“It was Mama,” Elara answered with a worried expression. “The moment she saw Bridget, she started babbling all of this nonsense, and I fear that Bridget might take offence or worse…”
Adrian’s brow furrowed.
“What nonsense?”
“First, that Bridget was married to Evander. Then, that she was responsible for his death. Then, that Evander was not dead at all…”
Though her words made no sense to him, Adrian left Elara without another word and hurried to Bridget’s quarters.
He opened the door to find her packing, tears trickling down her cheeks.
His heartbeat stuttered at the sight, and he moved to take Bridget’s hands as she tried to place another dress in her luggage.
“Bridget, what do you think you are doing?” he asked, trying his best to keep his tone calm.
Bridget tried to pull her hands from his, but he would not let go.
“Adrian, you must let go,” she pleaded. “This was a mistake. You meant well. I genuinely believe you wanted to marry me to protect me, but this is all too much for your mother. My presence here confuses and hurts her, and I do not wish to be responsible for someone else’s pain.”
Panic rose in Adrian’s chest at the thought of Bridget leaving.
“No, Bridget, you must believe me; it is not you that has my mother so frayed,” he insisted, but Bridget shook her head.
“You did not see her, Adrian,” she replied. “You did not see the utter agony on her face when she looked at me.”
“The agony, I believe,” Adrian admitted, willing his nerves to calm so he could speak to her gently.
“But Bridget, it is not you who causes her such feelings. My mother has struggled with accepting Evander’s passing from the moment she found out.
Since the body was deformed, she never truly accepted that the man she buried was Evander. ”
He shifted in discomfort, letting the truth wash over him. He let go of Bridget’s hands, knowing he could not force her to stay, and to his relief, she did not move.
“I am very sorry for everything that has happened, but I do not feel comfortable with being the reason you become estranged from your family.”
“You have nothing to do with it. It is not just my mother who has struggled,” he rasped. “But my brother was everything to her.”
Bridget’s gaze softened, and she took a step toward him.
“You matter to her, too, Adrian,” she said softly.
Adrian shook his head.
“Not the way Evander did. She cannot let him go. It is why she became so confused. When Elara called you Duchess, she immediately presumed you were Evander’s wife because she would never accept that I now hold the title.”
He let out a mirthless laugh and bowed his head as sorrow consumed him.
“And if he were alive? If my mother were somehow right and he were not dead? I would hand that title back to him in a second. He was always meant to have it, not I. I have never been good enough for it.”
Adrian bit back a groan as he felt Bridget’s hands gently caress his face, and it took all he had not to nuzzle into her touch.
She has no idea. No idea the effect she has on me.
“Please do not say such things about yourself,” she said softly, and he let her lift his gaze to hers. He found her vivid green eyes pleading with him to believe her; a sight that made his body flood with need and affection.
“You are a good man, Adrian,” she urged, stroking his cheek with the back of her fingers. “Your dedication to finding your brother’s killer has been nothing short of extraordinary. Not to mention the way you have managed to keep things prosperous and in order.”
His brow furrowed as he watched pain flood over the pleading look in her eyes, and all the warmth from her touch fled from him as she let her hands drop away.
“Which is another reason I must leave,” she said quietly. “I have become a distraction for you. You must continue with your investigation. Even if Warren is dead, I am sure there are ways to find out if he murdered your brother or not. I am keeping you from that.”
“No,” Adrian said quickly, his panic renewed. “You are doing no such thing, Bridget. If anything, you are giving me a much-needed reprieve. I was starting to lose myself before I met you.”
“You are trying to be sweet,” Bridget sighed, shaking her head. “And that is kind of you, but it is not true.”
Adrian was moving before he could even think to stop himself.
He gripped Bridget by the waist, pinning her to the bed with his weight as he held her wrists above her head.
Pleasure scorched through him as he felt her pressed so tightly beneath him, and with the way Bridget’s breath quickened, he was positive she felt it too.
“What… what are you doing?”
He leaned down, kissing her intensely until he could no longer breathe.
“You think I am sweet?” he challenged as Bridget’s eyes brightened and her cheeks flushed.
“How could I not?” she whispered, her eyes searching his. “You have saved me at every turn. At the Blue Parrot. On the way to Alfriston. The night Victor attacked me. You were there for me when no one else was.”
Pleasure and satisfaction roiled through his veins at her answer. He was glad she saw him this way.
“And you are thankful for this?” he asked, parting her knees with his own as far as her skirts would allow.
“Yes,” Bridget moaned, her lashes fluttering in the way he lowered himself between her thighs. “Oh, yes.”
She undulated beneath him, brushing her mons against his cock and flooding Adrian’s body with more pleasure. He thought it wickedly wonderful for a moment, but then realized she had no idea she had done so. That somehow made it even better.
“Tell me then, sweet wife,” Adrian insisted, capturing her wrists in one hand so his other could freely roam down her body. “Why are you so intent on running away from me at the first opportunity?”
Bridget’s lashes fluttered, and she moaned softly as his free hand moved to cup her breast.
“Adrian,” she breathed, then leaned up to kiss him.
Though he wanted so very badly to let her, he pulled away, needing to gain the upper hand.
“Answer me,” he whispered when she gave him a pleading look. “You want my kiss? You need to answer me. Why do you keep trying to distance yourself from me?”
Her eyes searched his for another moment as he felt her begin to tremble beneath him, and he was not sure if it was out of need or from strong emotion. Perhaps, like him, she was experiencing both.
“It is not the right time for us, Adrian,” she finally said, then a look of guilt passed through her eyes.
“And my past… it is so painfully tied to yours. Even if I did not directly hurt your family, I am associated with that pain. Perhaps… perhaps if we had met at a different time, it may all be different, but right now… I am old enough not to believe in dreams anymore.”
“No,” he rasped, trailing the tip of his nose along hers. “Now is the perfect time. Before I had you, I was dreaming about having you. Of any way I could have you. And now that I do, I refuse to let you go.”
Bridget’s brow tensed.
“What do you mean by that?” she asked.
Adrian raised a mocking brow as he let out a raspy chuckle.
“You think I only started to want you once your husband was gone? Oh, no, my sweet Bridget. I have wanted you from the moment I saw you.”
He paused, taking a moment to kiss her forehead.
“I wanted you the moment I saw you come down those stairs in nothing but your nightshift, looking so beautiful and enraged,” he whispered, then kissed her left cheek.
Bridget’s breathing deepened as he felt her body relax, and he continued.
“I dreamt of you since that very first night,” he whispered, then kissed her right cheek. Then he drew back, smirking devilishly. “And I certainly dreamt of you the night I found you outside the Blue Parrot, wearing that scrap of a dress that was far too tight and revealing.”
This time, Bridget laughed breathily along with him, and their lips met for a sweet, long kiss.
“Then that night at the inn?” he asked, pulling back one last time. “The night I stopped you from assaulting your own poor jaw, and you curled into me and kissed my neck? Oh, my sweet, devious Bridget, you have no idea how hard it was for me to leave you that night.”
Bridget’s eyes widened as her blush deepened into crimson.
“That actually happened?” she whispered. “I thought that was a dream.”
“Oh, it certainly was a part of a dream I had,” Adrian agreed. “However, the reality was one thousand times better than anything I had imagined.”
Affection glittered in Bridget’s eyes, taking over worry. Then, when she moved to kiss him, Adrian did not stop her, but let her seal her lips to his. It sent a bolt of pleasure through the entirety of his body, and he knew he had convinced her to stay.
He just needed to hear her say so.
“Say you will stay,” he implored, breaking away from the kiss as gently as possible. “Say you will give me one more chance to prove to you how much I want you.”
“Adrian, I…” she breathed as his kisses trailed down her neck.
He loved the way her breath caught in her throat as his lips reached a particular spot between her neck and shoulder, and he kissed her there again. He was rewarded with a tremor that ran through her entire body, followed by a contented sigh.
“I will stay,” she breathed.
Triumph surged through him, making his hands tremble as he untied the stays of her gown and corset.
To his pleasure, Bridget helped him, her trembling fingers all too willing to pull back the fabric of her gown away from her shoulders for him.
His eyes roamed hungrily down her body when he pulled her corset away next.
“You are perfect for me, Bridget,” he whispered, staring in awe at her pert breasts, small waist, and flared hips. He reached down, unable to help himself, and traced his fingertips lovingly over the taut bud of her rosy nipple, down the swell of her breast, and to the dip of her navel.
“So perfect,” he rasped as she trembled under his touch.
Bridget’s eyes opened then, her shining green orbs bright and dilated in the way he loved. There was a look there that needed no words. A look that begged him to prove to her that she was exactly where she was supposed to be.
With a throaty groan, Adrian brought his lips to hers again.
This time, she kissed him back with a desperation that left his manhood hard and aching in his trousers.
He ignored it, knowing that in time he would be satisfied, and trailed nipping, possessive kisses down her throat.
He drew each nipple into his mouth, lavishing attention on first one, then the other, until Bridget’s words were breathy and incoherent and her hands were yanking at his hair.
He then showered her waist with attention, nuzzling his forehead against her ribcage as his large hand splayed over her abdomen and took in the buttery softness of her flesh.
He lazily drew symbols with his tongue and lips over her lower belly and pubic bone, as if he had all the time in the world to devour her.
“Please,” Bridget breathed, breaking him out of his obsession. “Please, please, please,” she chanted.
Adrian did not stop, just continued his torturously slow exploration over her hips and toward her mons as he rasped, “Please, what, wife? Tell me, and it’s yours.”
Bridget whimpered at his words, the sound pulling at his heartstrings as much as it pulled at his aching groin.
He swirled his tongue lower, just barely grazing that taut bud of nerves between her thighs. She gasped and shuddered as her legs locked onto his shoulders.
“Please do not stop,” she begged.
Adrian let out a dark chuckle as he settled himself between her thighs and braced his hands firmly on her backside.
“Do not worry, love,” he rasped, then blew soft air over her dewy mons. “I do not plan on stopping for a long time.”