Chapter 32

"What do you mean?" Lydia gasped, her heart thundering so hard in her chest that she wondered if Will could hear it too.

He smiled up at her, but there was a glimmer of something less confident in his gaze, as if he were afraid. "All I have ever known of women is what I witnessed—or thought I witnessed. I was not blessed with happy parents brought together in a union of love. Most of the time, it was as if they were shackled together and were blaming one another for losing the key.

"But what I thought I saw was not the truth. When I spoke of a mother doing anything to protect her child, I was also referring to my own. I now believe that she shielded Anthony and me, in a manner of speaking, from our father's behavior. She did not want us to hate him, I suppose, and she did not want to reveal her own vulnerability—that she loved a man who did not love her in return."

Lydia took a small step forward, offering her hands to help Will to his feet. He reached out to grasp them, but he did not rise. Instead, he brought one of her hands to his lips and kissed it softly.

"In trying to protect her own heart, my mother made a monster out of me," he said, lifting his gaze to Lydia's once more. "I thought all women were untrustworthy and disloyal and deceitful, so I vowed that when I married, I would set all the rules out clearly, so there could be no hurt on either side. I vowed to protect my heart by allowing no expectations. Perhaps I am more like my mother than I thought in that regard."

Lydia's heart hurt at his revelations, for his voice was thick with emotion, and there was such pain in his eyes that she longed to do nothing more than kiss his agony away. It was ridiculous, in a way, for not five minutes ago, she had been imagining her life without him, her anger so potent that she had wanted to slap him again for breaking her heart.

A misunderstanding. A terrible misunderstanding.

She dreaded to think what might have happened if she had not come to Bruxton Hall and had gone directly to her sister instead, putting more days and distance between them. And what if she had refused to come down to speak with him? What if he had given up and gone back to Stonebridge? The very notion brought tears to her eyes.

"I still do not understand what you are trying to say," she said with a strangled laugh. "For once, you are not being very plain with me."

He sighed, pulling her hand to his chest, where he let her palm rest above his thudding heart. "What I am saying, my darling wife, is that I have been a coward. I knew that I was beginning to feel something for you, so I shunned you. I was… afraid of you hurting me, scarring me in a way I would not recover from. I was afraid of having a marriage like that of my mother and father, but I now know that it would be impossible."

"And why is that?" Lydia whispered, her heart in her throat.

"Because I care for you. All I care for is you. When I thought I had lost you, that was a scar I would never recover from," he explained. "I have been a prized fool, kitten, but I plan to remedy that. I plan to love you so fiercely, so utterly, that you will not ever need to look for love elsewhere. You will never feel a lack of it as long as you are with me."

Her shaky knees gave way slightly, causing her to stumble at the shock of what he had just said—that one word she had never expected to hear from his lips—love. But he grabbed her before she could fall and sank back on his haunches, settling her on his thighs, holding her close.

"L-Love?" she breathed, dizzy with the power of that word.

He dipped his head, not quite kissing her, but his lips were so close that just a slight movement of her mouth or his would bring them together.

"Love," he confirmed, his breath caressing her lips, "if you will allow me."

She swallowed thickly and nodded, looping her arms around his neck. "I… give you permission to… love me and to… be loved by me," she gasped, surprised she could even muster the ability to speak when he was so close and had just confessed his feelings. After all, it was all she had ever wanted.

"What a relief," he whispered and kissed her.

His mouth was soft and warm against hers, grazing in a slow, sensual ebb and flow that made her tingle all over. She kissed him back with equal fervor, not caring that every press of their lips robbed the breath from her lungs. Indeed, who needed air when there was love? And not merely love, but the kind that people wrote longingly about?

He held her tightly, one arm sliding around her waist to pull her flush against him. She melted into his embrace, already alight with the electric excitement that he never failed to conjure within her. But as something shifted between them, and the air crackled with the promise of what they had enjoyed the previous night, she remembered with dismay that they were not at Stonebridge.

"It is a warm night," he whispered breathily, as if reading her mind. "I spotted a pagoda on the farthest reaches of the garden, where I doubt anyone shall disturb us."

Lydia pushed against his chest. "I could not do that." She hesitated. "Go to the stables and have the driver prepare the carriage for an immediate departure. I shall meet you at the front of the house in… ten minutes."

"You torment me," he groaned, flashing her a wicked smile. "And I cannot get enough."

In one powerful movement, he got to his feet, still holding Lydia in his arms. She felt every muscle flex and strain, a flush of heat rushing through her as she thought of the athletic physique beneath his clothes that allowed him to do such things.

"Does the anticipation not make it all the more exciting?" she teased. "That is what I have been told."

He narrowed his eyes playfully. "Yes, I had forgotten about the naughty company that you keep." He set her down on her feet. "Ten minutes. If you are not there, I shall have to come and find you, and when I do, there shall be no restraint. Even if I happen to find you on the staircase, I will make love to you right there. You have been warned."

She gaped at him, fully believing the delicious threat. "I shall keep my promise."

"See that you do, kitten." He flashed a wink and turned, running off along the terrace that wrapped around the manor.

Lydia watched him go, fanning herself with her hand as her body called out for her husband. But that would have to wait, for she would not throw Joanna and Edwin's hospitality back in their faces by slipping away in the night without so much as a farewell.

Once she was certain that she was no longer scarlet in the face, she ducked back into the manor and headed off in search of the Duke and Duchess of Bruxton while her heart screamed out, I love you. Wolfie, I love you!

The carriage turned the corner from the stable yard and rattled across the gravel, turning to the front of Bruxton Hall. William sat on the squabs, his blood still roaring in his veins, his loins ablaze, his hands itching to grab hold of his wife once more, his lips burning for a taste of her.

And there she was, waiting impatiently.

He threw open the door. "Get in."

"You are late," she replied, arching an eyebrow.

"The driver was asleep, and it took longer to prepare the carriage than I expected. Do not make the poor fellow feel guilty, for I doubt he was expecting to have to make a return journey tonight," William replied with a sly grin.

Lydia was about to step up into the carriage when she paused. "What of your horse?"

"You are worried about my horse at a moment like this?" He had to laugh. "The stablemaster has agreed to have one of his boys ride the gelding back tomorrow. Now, get in!"

He reached for her, pulling her into the carriage.

The moment the door was closed, his lips found hers in a frenzied rush, his arms wrapping tightly around her. And as the carriage pulled away, he held her that little bit tighter so the sway of the carriage would not knock her over.

She kissed him back with the ravenous desire that he had relished the night before, and as he sat back on the squabs, she straddled his thighs and pressed herself against him.

"Never leave me again," he growled, running his hand up the soft fabric of her stocking, sliding his palm underneath the skirts of her nightdress. He was grateful that she had not paused to change her attire.

"I will not if you do not," she replied, breathing hard as she kissed him harder.

He smiled against her lips, his other hand pushing the sleeve of her housecoat down her arm. Once he freed her of it, he threw it to the opposite side of the carriage and gathered up the skirts of her nightdress. Kissing her fervently, he pulled the garment up over her head and let it join the housecoat on the opposite squabs.

"What if someone sees?" she gasped, but he had lost all ability to care about such things.

He doubted that he would ever tire of the glorious sight of her, naked in front of him, knowing that she wanted him as much as he wanted her. Knowing that she felt the same way about him as he did for her, their hearts entirely in agreement, as unified as their bodies could be.

"I do not care if we are splashed across every scandal sheet, kitten," he purred. "I only care about making you feel as if you are in paradise every day of your life."

Meaning it, he slipped his hand between her thighs and touched her most sensitive spot. She bucked instinctively, and he grazed his teeth across his lower lip as he began to strum and circle that swollen bud, determined to have her reach her conclusion at least thrice before they made it back to Stonebridge.

She braced her hands against his shoulders, her fingernails digging into his flesh. And as he gasped, her eyes gleamed with delight, and her mouth sought his, pressing a fierce kiss to his lips. And when he eased his fingers inside her, he caught her moan of pleasure, feeling it vibrate against his mouth.

Before long, she was trembling and shivering in his embrace, crying out his name so loudly that anyone passing by would have raised an eyebrow. But it was the early hours of the morning, and the country roads were empty, and inside the carriage, they were in their own world of love and pleasure and everything that came with it.

"Yes, my love," she moaned as the wave of bliss began to ebb. "Oh… you are a talented man. Truly, you are."

"Only because I have such an inspiring muse," he told her, withdrawing his fingers.

She shook her head. "I have the inspiring muse."

As if to prove her point, she tugged at his shirt and lifted it over his head, dropping it to the ground. In the next moment, her fingertips were fumbling with the fastenings of his trousers, and in a somewhat awkward display of yanking and shimmying that made them both laugh, they managed to remove his trousers together.

"I meant it," he said huskily, panting as he felt the heat of her brush against his manhood. "I intend to love you so fiercely that even your favorite books will seem like chaste, drab tales."

She grinned. "Do not dare ruin my books for me, Wolfie."

"I cannot help it," he told her as he lifted his hips and pierced that maddening, glorious heat.

Her breath caught in her throat as she sank down and paused for a moment with her eyes closed. He let her grow accustomed to the sensation, admiring her beauty and the utter satisfaction that appeared on her face. And as her eyes opened again, gazing longingly at him, he grasped her around the waist and laid her down on the velvet squabs.

Kissing her slowly, he began to move his hips, grinding against that secret bud of hers. She gasped against his lips, and her hands skimmed down the muscles of his back, sliding over the rise of his buttocks, urging him deeper.

Sliding an arm underneath her to keep her from falling off if the carriage suddenly hit a rut in the road or a wheel became unsteady, he withdrew with teasing slowness, before easing back into her. It was a reasonably long journey back to Stonebridge; he had all the time in the world to grant her as much pleasure as she could take.

Entwined on the squabs, both of them baring everything to one another, he finally understood why so many people searched for a lifetime for that rare and precious thing called ‘love.' It made the act of joining together almost transcendent, as if they were truly one being, connected in every way, pursuing paradise together.

But it was the prospect of the ordinary that thrilled him just as much, as he imagined waking up beside her every morning and retiring to bed together every evening, enjoying breakfast together and sharing the morning news, taking walks, discussing improvements to the manor that both of them would like to see, and simply being together, just the two of them. That was as much a paradise to him as the physical, and he hoped that if they were blessed with children, those children would know what love looked like and demand nothing less for themselves.

"You have… changed everything," he murmured, sinking deep into the heat of her.

She arched her neck, and he kissed the column of her throat, savoring the sweetness and saltiness of her skin. "As have you. You have… changed, and it is… everything."

"Is that what… love does?" he whispered, trailing kisses down to her bosom, where he drew an erect nipple into his mouth and sucked gently.

She gasped, bucking against him. "I think so," she moaned. "No… I know so."

Before long, she was trembling in his arms once again, half screaming his name despite the fact that the poor driver could probably hear everything. But once again, William found that he did not care, for there was nothing to be ashamed of. Indeed, what could be more beautiful than having a wife he loved, who was unafraid of her desire and her pleasure?

"If this… is just the beginning of our love story," she panted, smiling, "then I cannot wait to turn the page."

He smiled back down at her, brushing the sweat-dampened hair out of her face. "Nor can I, my love," he told her in earnest. "Nor can I."

For every chapter of theirs, he was certain, was destined to have a happy ending. And though there might be arguments and disagreements along the way, he knew that with the love that bloomed in his heart for her, they would never, ever find themselves in a place where they felt shackled instead of divinely blessed.

This was love, and even if it meant putting his heart at risk, he was ready for it and everything that came their way. Indeed, he could think of no greater adventure.