Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen

“This is utterly delightful,” Genevieve sighed contentedly, leaning back on her elbows above the soft blanket spread beneath a towering oak tree.

The sun warmed her skin, and a gentle breeze carried the sweet scent of wildflowers through the air.

Wilhelm, seated beside her, chuckled. “I am inclined to agree with you,” he replied, his gaze sweeping over the picturesque meadow. “Though I suspect it is the company that considerably enhances the scenery.”

Genevieve blushed, her heart fluttering at his words. She had never enjoyed flattery, but when it came from Wilhelm, it held a sincerity that made her feel genuinely cherished.

“I brought something for you,” Wilhelm announced, reaching into the picnic basket. He pulled out a slim volume bound in worn leather. “I believe you might appreciate this.”

Genevieve’s curiosity was piqued. “What is it?” she inquired, her eyes sparkling with anticipation.

Wilhelm smiled. “A collection of sonnets,” he replied, opening the book to a marked page. “By a rather talented playwright named William Shakespeare.”

Genevieve’s eyes sparkled. “Will you read some of it to me?”

Wilhelm chuckled, nodding as a playful smile tugged at his lips. He bit his lower lip briefly, then extended his left arm, motioning for her to lean against him.

She sat up and nestled into his chest, her head resting comfortably against his chest as he opened the book.

He cleared his throat and began to read, his voice a deep, resonant baritone that filled the air with the beauty of the words.

“Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?

Thou art more lovely and more temperate.

Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,

And summer’s lease hath all too short a date.”

Genevieve listened, mesmerized by his voice, the words, and the emotion that laced every syllable.

As he continued to read, a sigh escaped her lips.

Wilhelm paused, his gaze searching hers. “What is it?” he asked.

“It is nothing,” she assured him, her voice thick with emotion. “I am just… enjoying myself.”

Wilhelm’s eyes lit up. He reached out, his fingers gently stroking her cheek. “As am I, Genevieve,” he said.

He leaned in, his lips meeting hers in a tender kiss. The warmth of his embrace erased the world around her, leaving her feeling utterly free and peaceful.

As they broke apart, his intense, tender gaze bored into blue eyes. Genevieve’s trembling fingers rose, lightly tracing the sharp edge of his jaw and the curve of his cheek.

Wilhelm captured her hand and pressed a tender kiss to her palm.

“I believe it is high time that we visited the village together,” he announced.

He helped her up and led her towards a magnificent black stallion that a stable boy had tethered nearby, its sleek coat shimmering under the golden sunlight.

With a steady hand, Wilhelm helped her into the saddle, ensuring she was secure before swinging up behind her. His arms encircled her as he took the reins, and with a soft nudge, the stallion surged forward.

The wind rushed past them, carrying their laughter across the meadow that danced with rustling grasses and the distant song of birds.

As they walked through the quaint village of Ravenshire, a cluster of villagers gathered by the roadside, their faces etched with a mix of respect and admiration.

“Your Grace,” an elderly farmer greeted as he bowed his head. “We are most grateful for your assistance with the new irrigation system. Our crops have flourished this season, thanks to your generosity.”

Wilhelm inclined his head, his gaze sweeping over the assembled villagers. “No need for gratitude,” he replied, his voice a low rumble that resonated with sincerity. “A prosperous village is a testament to the qualities of its leader, and the well-being of my people is my sworn duty.”

A murmur of agreement rippled through the crowd, their faces bright with appreciation.

Genevieve felt joy spread through her heart as she listened to their exchange.

Amidst the assembly of humble villagers, she could see a different side of him emerge and blossom.

Upon reaching the gates of Ravenshire, Wilhelm dismounted, his movements fluid and graceful. He looked up at her, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

“Wait here,” he instructed, his voice a playful command. “I have one more surprise for you.”

He disappeared into the nearby woods, leaving her to wait with curiosity and anticipation.

A few minutes later, he appeared with a large bouquet of wildflowers clutched in his hand.

“For you, my Duchess,” he said, presenting her the flowers with a flourish.

Genevieve’s heart melted, her cheeks flushing with a warmth that rivaled the setting sun. She graciously accepted the bouquet, her fingers brushing against his, the touch sending a shiver down her spine.

“They are beautiful,” she said with great tenderness.

Wilhelm’s lips curled into a loving smile. “Not nearly as beautiful as you are,” he replied.

Genevieve rolled her eyes. “How original of you,” she teased.

Wilhelm chuckled at having been caught. “You wound me, Duchess. I handpicked these flowers and made a most heartfelt compliment, and this is the thanks I receive for my efforts?”

Genevieve smirked, twirling a fragile bloom between her fingers. “You are right, good sir. I should have swooned dramatically and cast the back of my hand over my brow with delight. Shall we try again?”

He stepped closer, the playfulness in his expression obvious. “Oh, I believe I prefer this version of you. It is far more challenging. Keeps me on my toes.”

Genevieve tilted her head, a spark of mischief dancing in her eyes. “Well, someone has to keep your ego in check.”

Wilhelm raised an eyebrow, his grin widening. “And here I thought I was the charming one. Yet, somehow, you are the one stealing the show.”

She feigned a dramatic sigh, holding the bouquet close to her chest. “It is a heavy burden, being both clever and charming. But someone must bear it.”

He laughed, the rich sound filling the quiet of the woods. “Well, if I cannot compete, perhaps it is time to admit defeat.”

Genevieve arched an eyebrow. “Defeat? From you? I never thought I would see the day.”

Wilhelm leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Only because I have another plan in mind. What do you say we head home? I have a feeling that the best is yet to come.”

Genevieve’s cheeks reddened, but she refused to let him win so easily. “Only if you promise not to make any more overly poetic compliments.”

He chuckled, offering her his arm with a mock-serious bow. “A promise I doubt that I will be able to keep, my dear Duchess. But I will try, for now, just to please you.”

“Now the corset, Your Grace,” Anna said kindly, guiding Genevieve into the structured garment with practiced hands.

Her nimble fingers began lacing the ties of her mistress’s corset with practiced ease.

They both turned around when a soft knock sounded at the bedroom door.

“May I enter, darling?” Wilhelm’s voice called.

“Mmm, you may,” Genevieve called back. Her heart fluttered, a smile gracing her lips as she granted him permission.

The door swung open to reveal Wilhelm’s tall frame. “You look breathtaking, Genevieve,” he said.

He approached her, admiring the curves of her form and the intricate details of her gown.

With a subtle gesture, he dismissed Anna, who curtsied respectfully before exiting the room, leaving them alone in the soft candlelight.

Wilhelm’s fingers gently traced the neckline of his wife’s dress, his light touch igniting a trail of heat that prickled her skin. A soft shiver coursed through her, her breath catching as his hand paused.

His voice, low and smooth, brushed against her like velvet. “May I?”

Genevieve nodded silently, her heart pounding in her chest.

Wilhelm’s fingers slipped beneath the laces, tugging them with steady care. The corset tightened, molding to her frame. Her breath hitched slightly as each deliberate pull seemed to draw her closer to him.

“I cannot wait to undo this later,” he murmured, his lips brushing against her neck, his warm breath tickling her exposed skin.

Genevieve’s cheeks flushed, her body responding to his touch, voluntarily leaning into him, the back of her head resting against his chest. She enjoyed feeling the steady beat of his heart as his sculpted arms encircled her from behind, his hands resting on her stomach.

“Wilhelm,” she breathed. “Should we⁠—”

He cut her off, pressing a long, searing kiss to the curve of her neck. A soft moan escaped her as her eyes fluttered shut.

Then, just as abruptly, he pulled away.

“Let us save it for afterward, shall we?” he said teasingly, amusement lacing his voice.

Genevieve shrugged as she tried to compose herself. “You are a wicked man, Your Grace,” she chided playfully.

Wilhelm chuckled. “Perhaps,” he conceded. “But you seem to enjoy my wickedness, darling.”

“Indeed, I do,” she admitted impishly.

Wilhelm’s smile widened, his eyes twinkling with delight as he replied in a silky voice, “I assure you, darling, the moment we return, I will show you exactly how wicked I can be.”

“You seem to be enjoying this,” Wilhelm mused, a smile playing at the corners of his lips.

The whispers of her ‘curse’ also seemed to have faded into the background, overshadowed by the undeniable aura of power and elegance that she and Wilhelm exuded.

“It is different now.” She fluttered her eyelashes at him.

“What makes it so?” He raised an eyebrow as his smile widened.

Genevieve giggled. “Well, you⁠—”

“Your Grace,” a voice purred, the words a silken caress, interrupting her. “It is a pleasure to see you at our humble gathering.”

A woman in a vibrant crimson gown approached Wilhelm, pausing before him. Her gaze lingered on his chest just a moment longer than necessary, a subtle smile playing at the corners of her lips.

Wilhelm offered a polite smile. “Lady Cavendish,” he greeted, his gaze flicking to Genevieve.

“I have missed you, Your Grace.” Lady Cavendish laughed, her words soft and velvety as she cast him a glance from beneath her lashes. “The Ton may have a different opinion about you, but I have always considered you worthy of respect and admiration.”

Her laughter rippled through the air, light and lilting, as she leaned in closer, the curve of her chest brushing against his arm.

Genevieve, her lips pursed, stepped closer, her hand resting possessively on Wilhelm’s arm.

Wilhelm, sensing the shift in the air, gave a curt nod to Lady Cavendish.

“Ah, yes. If you will excuse us.”

His voice was cool as he turned, his back stiffening as he walked past her. He placed his palm over Genevieve’s hand, his fingers stroking hers in a quiet gesture of solidarity.

Then, he moved his mouth closer to her ear, a playful glint in his eyes.

“Are you jealous, darling?” he whispered, raising an eyebrow.

Genevieve’s cheeks flushed, her gaze darting away. “Of course not,” she retorted, her voice a touch too high. “I merely wished to remind Lady Cavendish that I am present.”

Wilhelm chuckled, his amusement evident. “Indeed, Duchess,” he replied, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “And your presence was most certainly felt.”

With a nod, he steered her towards the dance floor.

Genevieve felt the world melt away as they glided across the dance floor. Wilhelm’s hand rested on her waist, and his gaze never left hers.

“You know I am yours, Genevieve,” he murmured against her ear, and she felt the weight of a thousand eyes vanish at his words. “Yours. Only.”

The intensity of his words washed over her, and memories of their intimate moments flashed through her mind.

God, I want him to take me right on this dance floor.

“Can I interest you in a drink, my sweet?” Wilhelm inquired.

Genevieve suddenly became aware of a dryness in her throat that she had not noticed until he made his offer.

She nodded gratefully. “I would love one, thank you,” she replied.

Wilhelm excused himself, disappearing into the crowd to fetch her drink. He returned moments later, holding a crystal glass filled with golden wine.

“Here you are, Duchess,” he said, offering her the glass with a gentle smile. “And now,” he continued, “I believe we have some unfinished business to address.”

Genevieve’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “Unfinished business?” she echoed, her curiosity piqued.

Wilhelm’s lips curled into a mischievous grin.

“Indeed,” he confirmed, his gaze twinkling with a playful light. “I will wait for you in the drawing room on the second floor. Please do not keep me waiting.”

With a wink and a gentle squeeze of her hand, he vanished into the crowd, leaving her giddy with anticipation.

She downed the glass in a single gulp, the room tilting slightly as the wine took effect, before lifting the hem of her skirt and ascending the grand staircase.

Genevieve paused, her heart pounding in her chest as she pushed open the door.

Wilhelm stood by the fireplace, his back to her, his tall frame silhouetted against the flickering flames. He turned as she entered, his gaze sweeping over her with a passion that made her stomach drop.

Without uttering a word, he pushed her against the wall, his right hand pressing the door shut.

“You follow orders very well, Duchess. I knew you would be a good girl for me,” he said.

Before Genevieve could respond, their lips met in a feverish kiss as their bodies pressed together. Her fingers tugged on his hair as she surrendered to him, the sound of mingled voices downstairs fading into nothingness.

Wilhelm’s hands roamed over her body, exploring with a zeal that left her breathless. One of his hands held her hair back while the other gripped her hip, synchronizing their movements with the rhythm of their tongues.

Genevieve moaned softly, her body arching into his touch, her chest pressing against his as though she could dissolve the layers that separated them through sheer willpower alone.

Without a warning, Wilhelm pulled away and exhaled.

“All right. I have had enough of this farce. We are going home,” he murmured huskily.