Chapter Twenty
“Adrian, dear boy!” Aunt Flora beamed as Adrian entered the morning room and crossed to her. “We must speak whilst I still have my wits about me.”
“Aunt Flora, you should be resting—”
“Nonsense.” She waved away his concern, settling into the chair opposite his desk with regal authority. “There are things you need to hear. Before the fog takes me again.”
Adrian waited, every instinct alert.
“Do not trust the smiling one, Adrian.”
The words landed like stones into still water. Adrian’s pulse kicked. “What do you mean?”
“The one who smiles too easily. Who offers comfort with honeyed words whilst plotting in shadows.” Her grip on his wrist was surprisingly strong. “Your father never trusted him either, you know. Said there was rot beneath all that charm.”
Henry. She meant Henry—she must. Though whether she spoke from lucidity or confused memory, Adrian couldn’t be certain.
“Aunt Flora, I need you to be specific—”
But Aunt Flora’s eyes had already grown distant again, the clarity fading like mist beneath morning sun. “Who, dear? Oh, is it time for breakfast already?”
Adrian fought the urge to shake her, to demand more specificity, more details. Instead, he pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. “Thank you, Aunt Flora. You’ve helped more than you know.”
“Have I?” She smiled vaguely. “How lovely. I do try to be useful.”
But as he left her chambers, his aunt’s warning echoed in his skull.
He needed to speak with Cecilia. Needed to tell her about the letters, the suspicions, the threat coiling tighter by the hour.
“What a strange sight—the Duke of Devonshire at home!” Cecilia called out as he passed the library, her tone sharp enough to draw blood.
“Cecilia.” Adrian stopped in the doorway. “I need to speak with you. About the letters.”
Something shuttered in her expression. “You’ve been ignoring me like the plague, and all of a sudden—”
“I was trying to protect you.”
She turned at his entrance, and the exhaustion in her face made his throat tighten.
“We need to talk.”
The words came out harsher than intended. Cecilia’s spine straightened, her expression closing off in that familiar way that made him want to shake her and hold her simultaneously.
“Do we?” Her Scottish lilt carried an edge he’d rarely heard. “Or will you simply issue orders and disappear again, as you’ve done for weeks?”
“That’s unfair—”
“Is it?” She turned fully to face him, late afternoon light catching the copper in her hair, turning it to flame.
Her green eyes were red-rimmed, shadows beneath them testament to sleepless nights he’d been too blind to notice.
“You married me, brought me to your home, and then abandoned me to face hostile servants and threatening notes whilst you—what? Hid in your study? Disappeared for days?”
Adrian’s hands flexed at his sides. “I was trying to protect you—”
“By keeping me ignorant? By treating me like some foolish child who cannae be trusted with the truth?” Her accent thickened, always a sign of strong emotion.
“I’ve been receiving those vile notes for weeks, Adrian.
Weeks. Someone’s been in my chamber, moving my things, making me feel hunted in my own home.
And you—you knew something was wrong and said nothing. ”
“Because I didn’t want to frighten you!”
“Well, congratulations.” Tears glittered in her eyes, furious and hurt.
“I’m bloody terrified. But worse than that?
I’m alone. I thought—” Her voice cracked.
“When I married you, I hoped I’d have a partner.
Someone who trusted me enough to share his burdens.
Instead, I have a ghost who sleeps down the hall and looks at me like I’m a problem to be solved. ”
The words struck like physical blows. Adrian crossed the distance between them before conscious thought, his iron control fracturing.
“You think I don’t trust you?” He stopped close enough to see the rapid pulse at her throat. “You think this distance is because I don’t—”
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t care.” The admission tore free, raw and honest. “I do. So much that it terrifies me.”
Her breath caught.
The space between them thrummed with tension—weeks of denial and wanting and fear all coiling tight. Adrian could feel the heat radiating from her skin, smell the faint jasmine scent that haunted his nights.
“I found evidence today.” His voice dropped, rough. “In Henry’s study. Suspicious ledgers. Financial discrepancies. And this—” He withdrew the threatening note from his pocket, unfolding it between them. “A copy of one of the notes you’ve been receiving. In his study, Cecilia. His study.”
Her face paled. “Henry?”
“Henry smiles.” The bitterness in Adrian’s voice surprised even himself.
“He’s always smiled. Whilst plotting behind my back, stealing from estate funds, terrorising my wife.
Velma brought me the rest of your notes.
I know about the threats, about the fires.
” His jaw clenched. “I know you’ve been terrified whilst I’ve been too bloody blind to see past my own hurt pride. ”
“Adrian—”
“He’s dangerous, Cecilia. And he’s escalating. Which means you’re in danger, which means—” He stopped, breathing hard.
“Which means you’re trying to protect me by pushing me away?” Her hand came up, fingers trembling as they touched his jaw. “That’s the most foolish thing I’ve ever heard, Your Grace.”
The formal address was mocking, tender. Adrian’s control snapped.
“Don’t.” His hand caught hers, holding it against his face. “Don’t call me that. Not now. Not when I’m trying to—”
“Trying to what? Keep me at arm’s length?
Suffer alone?” Her other hand rose to frame his face, forcing him to meet her gaze.
“I dinnae marry you to be protected like some porcelain doll, Adrian. I married you to be your partner. If we’re in danger, we face it together.
If you’re frightened, then join the club, because so am I.
But I refuse—I refuse—to live like strangers under the same roof. ”
“I don’t know how.” The words felt dragged from somewhere deep, a confession he’d never made to anyone. “How to let someone in without destroying them. Everyone I’ve cared for, they’ve—”
“I’m not everyone.” Her thumb traced his cheekbone with devastating tenderness. “I’m your wife. And I’m not some fragile thing that’ll shatter at the first storm. I’m Scottish, for God’s sake—we’re made of sterner stuff.”
A sound escaped him—half laugh, half something more desperate.
And then he kissed her.
Not carefully. Not controlled. This was weeks of denial pouring into the press of his mouth against hers, his hands finding her waist and pulling her flush against him until he could feel her heart hammering against his ribs.
“Ach!” Cecilia made a sound—half gasp, half surrender—and opened to him, her fingers sliding into his hair.
The library tilted. Or perhaps it was just Adrian’s carefully constructed world, finally righting itself after months of being askew.
He broke the kiss only to drag his lips along her jaw, tasting salt and jasmine and something uniquely hers. “I’m sorry.” The words came rough against her throat. “God, Cecilia, I’m so bloody sorry for how I’ve treated you.”
“Then show me.” Her voice was wrecked, shaking. “Show me you mean it.”
Adrian pulled back just enough to meet her eyes, searching for hesitation and finding only heat and trust and want that mirrored his own. The fireplace crackled behind them, casting dancing shadows across her face, turning her hair to copper flame.
“Here?” His thumb traced her lower lip, watching it part beneath his touch. “Now?”
“Unless you’d rather continue our argument?”
“This is—we’re in the library. Anyone could—”
“Lock the door” Cecilia’s smile was pure feminine satisfaction.
His eyes darkened. “You planned this.”
“I’d hoped for it.” Her fingers found the buttons of his waistcoat. “There’s a difference.”
Adrian caught her hands. “Cecilia… if we do this, everything changes. I won’t be able to pretend at indifference—”
“Good.” She freed her hands and resumed unbuttoning. “I’m tired of you pretending.”
He helped her then, shrugging out of his waistcoat and shirt with fumbling urgency that made her heart squeeze. His hands were sure and steady as they found the laces of her gown, tugging them loose. The garment whispered to the floor, leaving her in nothing before him.
Adrian pulled back to look at her, his gaze raking over her body with raw hunger. His hand came up to cup her breast, and Cecilia’s head fell back with a moan she couldn’t suppress. He lowered his mouth to her nipple, hot and wet, while his teeth gently scraped against the sensitive flesh.
“You’re trembling,” he murmured.
“And you’re still dressed.”
Adrian grinned devilishly. “Allow me to remedy that.”
His breeches followed, discarded with shaking hands. When he settled between her thighs, the weight and heat of him skin-to-skin made them both gasp.
“I’ll go slowly,” he promised, his forehead pressed to hers. “If it hurts, tell me. If you want me to stop—”
“I won’t want you to stop.” Her hands found his face, holding his gaze. “I want this. Want you.”
He kissed her then—deep and slow and achingly tender—as he positioned himself. The first press made her tense, and he stilled immediately.
“Breathe, darling,” Adrian murmured against her lips. “Just breathe with me.”
She did, and he eased forward—slowly, carefully, watching her face with fierce attention. The stretch must have stung, because she gasped.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, and she heard genuine anguish in his voice. “I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be.” Cecilia wrapped her legs around his hips, holding him to her. “Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”
“Ach,” Adrian breathed, his voice ragged as he pressed forward, slowly, stretching her. They lay joined, breathing hard, foreheads pressed together.
“God, Cecilia.” His voice shook. “You feel... I can’t...”
He began to move—achingly slow, each thrust measured and controlled, giving her time to adjust. One hand cradled her face while the other gripped her hip, anchoring them together.
“Better?” he asked, searching her eyes.
“Yes.” And as if to prove it, she arched her back and closed her eyes. “Oh, yes...”
His pace increased slightly, and when he angled differently, her eyes widened in shock.
“There?” he asked, and did it again. “Is that—”
“Adrian!” Her nails dug into his shoulders. “Oh God, what—”
“I’ve got you,” he promised, his rhythm steady now, hitting that spot with devastating precision. “Just let go, darling. Just feel me.”
Their mouths crashed together with renewed hunger, all pretence of restraint abandoned. Adrian lowered himself over her, increasing his pace slightly, his hand sliding up to cradle her breast. Her body went rigid, panic flickering through the pleasure. Her words dissolved into incoherent gasps.
Her climax struck with devastating force. Cecilia’s eyes flew wide with shock as her body convulsed around him.
“Oh God… oh, God… Adrian, what…ooh!” She couldn’t finish, lost, he assumed, to the pulsing pleasure deep within her core.
“That’s it,” Adrian groaned, his control fracturing as she pulsed around him. “God, Cecilia, you’re—” His words dissolved into a groan as he thrust deeply, one final time, spilling himself inside her with a deep, low groan.
They collapsed together, breathing raggedly, hearts pounding in synchronised rhythm. Adrian rolled to his side, pulling Cecilia against his chest and reaching for his discarded coat to drape over them both.
“Well.” Cecilia’s voice was wrecked, satisfied. “That was...”
“Overdue?” Adrian lifted his head, watching firelight play across her flushed features.
“I was going to say ‘spectacular,’ but overdue works too.” She smiled, radiant despite everything—the threats, the fear, the weeks of isolation. “Though I think there’s a book digging into my shoulder blade.”
Adrian huffed a laugh against her hair, the sound rusty from disuse. They lay tangled together as darkness claimed the sky beyond the windows, their breathing gradually steadying. Adrian traced idle patterns on her skin, mapping freckles, committing her to memory through touch alone.
“I love you.” The words escaped rough, unpractised. “I should have said it sooner. Should have trusted you sooner. Should have—”
“Hush.” Her fingers pressed against his lips, gentle. “You’re saying it now. That’s what matters.”
Adrian caught her hand, pressing a kiss to her palm. “I love you,” he repeated, clearer this time. “And I swear on everything I hold dear—you’ll never face danger alone again.”
Outside the library, floorboards creaked with someone’s passage. A door closed somewhere in the servants’ quarters. The normal sounds of a household settling for the night.
But Adrian’s instincts prickled with warning even as he held Cecilia closer. Because somewhere in these halls, Henry was planning his next move. And Adrian would be ready for him.
Had to be ready.
Because he finally had something—someone—worth protecting with every breath in his body.