Chapter 17

Chapter Seventeen

“To Ravenshire!” Wilhelm’s voice rang out from the back of the carriage. His burning gaze locked onto Genevieve before he barked, “And make haste!”

The carriage lurched forward, its wheels rattling loudly against the uneven cobblestones as the driver snapped the reins, urging the horses into a swift gallop.

Inside the carriage, the air crackled like an impending storm, charged with the attraction between them.

He reached for her, his hand cupping her cheek as he drew her face so close to his that their breaths mingled.

“I cannot wait to have you all to myself, Genevieve,” he said in a low voice.

Genevieve’s heart pounded in her chest, her breath catching in her throat as she leaned into his touch.

“Nor I,” she confessed, her voice barely audible above the rhythmic clatter of the carriage wheels.

His lips claimed hers, urgent and unrelenting.

Genevieve was trembling with desire. Her fingers itched to tear his shirt off him, her body aching for his touch.

She craved the feel of his breath on her skin, his hands exploring every inch of her, and his throbbing member buried deep inside of her.

Wilhelm’s hands roamed over her gown, his touch delicate yet deliberate, while her fingers tugged at the collar of his white linen shirt, exposing more of his skin. She tilted her head back, offering her neck to him, and a tremor coursed through her as his tongue trailed slowly over her skin, tormenting her.

“More,” she moaned softly, her breath hitching as his hand brushed the dewy skin of her inner thigh.

“Patience, love,” he whispered in her ear. “Just a little longer. We are nearly there.”

The carriage thundered through the night, its wheels rattling over the cobblestones as the landscape rushed past.

As soon as the carriage reached the manor, Wilhelm scooped Genevieve up in his arms and rushed through the front door, up the staircase, and into his bedchamber.

Before she could fully get her bearings, she found herself lying on the plush mattress in his room, bathed in the silvery glow of the moonlight.

Her heart raced as Wilhelm shrugged off his coat and waistcoat, revealing the chiseled lines of his torso, each movement mesmerizing.

His eyes were smoldering with unquenched desire.

As he joined her on the bed, his fingers deftly loosened the laces of her corset.

“I told you I could not wait to untie this,” he grinned seductively.

Leaning down, he captured one breast in his mouth, his tongue tracing slow, deliberate circles around her nipple in a way that made her squeeze her thighs together.

Lost in the throes of lust, her senses heightened, and her body engulfed in flames, Genevieve quivered uncontrollably as his lips and tongue traced and tasted every inch of her skin.

Through half-closed lids, she realized that the moonlight had illuminated a series of long, faint lines that were etched across his back.

What is⁠—

That thought evaporated as he gripped her hips, lifted her, and thrust into her hard.

Her moans grew louder with each movement until her body erupted into a series of ecstatic fireworks.

As comfortable silence fell over them, Genevieve lay on his chest, inhaling the scent of his skin, her fingers drawing gentle circles on his torso.

A memory flashed through her satiated mind, causing her half-closed eyes to snap open.

“Wilhelm,” she whispered softly against his skin.

“Hmm?” he murmured, his eyes still closed.

“What are those?” She lifted her head slightly.

He blinked his eyes open as he looked at her. “What are what?”

She bit her lip, then sat up. “Those… marks. On your back.”

Wilhelm stiffened and rolled onto his back. “They are nothing,” he said tightly, his face shrouded by the darkness.

Genevieve’s heart ached. She rolled him to his side and gently traced his scars, which stood slightly above the rest of his smooth skin.

“They are not nothing, Wilhelm,” she insisted quietly. “These are proper scars. How did you get them?”

Wilhelm’s shoulders slumped, his defenses crumbling under the power of her gentle touch. He turned to face her, his emerald-green eyes filled with a vulnerability that she had never before witnessed.

“They are a reminder of my past, Genevieve,” he confessed, his voice thick with memory. “A past I would rather forget.”

Genevieve’s heart clenched with empathy, her fingers continuing their gentle exploration of his scars.

“Who did this to you?” she whispered, her lips barely moving.

Wilhelm’s gaze drifted towards the window, the moonlight casting his features in a somber light.

“My father,” he replied hollowly.

Genevieve’s eyes widened in shock, and her face grew pale. She had often heard her father speak of the late Duke’s cruel nature, his iron-fisted rule, and his ruthless ambition, but she had never imagined that his cruelty would mean abusing his own son.

“He was… an unforgiving man,” Wilhelm continued, his voice filled with a bitterness that chilled her. “He believed that power was the only currency that mattered and that emotions were a weakness to be exploited… or exterminated.”

He paused, his gaze fixed on the distant stars that twinkled through the window.

“After my mother’s death, it got worse. He was…” he scoffed. “He was molding me into the man he believed I should be.” Those final words were laced with thick sarcasm, his lips thinning as he spoke.

Genevieve’s heart grieved for young Wilhelm, trapped in a never-ending world of pain and violence.

She reached out, gently cupping his cheek, attempting to offer him a small measure of comfort with her touch.

Wilhelm turned his head and looked at her with gratitude in his eyes.

“Whenever I showed any sign of emotion—weakness—any hint of vulnerability, he would… punish me,” he confessed. “And that was… often.”

Genevieve slowly shook her head, speechless with shock and revulsion.

“He would whip me,” Wilhelm said sadly. “He would whip me until my back was raw and bleeding. Until he was certain I had learned from my mistakes.”

Genevieve gasped as her eyes filled with tears. She felt her heart shatter into tiny pieces at the pain he had endured.

She traced the lines of his scars, her touch a silent apology for the cruelty he had suffered.

“I learned to bury my emotions,” Wilhelm continued, his voice distant. “I learned to never rely on anyone but myself. I became the man my father wanted me to be. Not as if I had much of a choice in the matter.”

He paused, his eyes searching hers. “But you, Genevieve,” he murmured, his voice filled with a tenderness that made her heart soar. “You have shown me that there is more to life than power and control. You have shown me things I had never thought possible and have given me things I never believed I deserved.”

Genevieve shivered as though someone had walked over her grave. Her heart swelled with a deep love for him that began in her heart and filled her soul. She leaned in, her lips meeting his in a compassionate kiss as he wrapped his arms around her and sighed deeply.

She buried her face in his neck as she burst into tears.

“Please… do not cry for me,” Wilhelm begged, his own voice heavy with unshed tears as he hugged her close to his heart.

The silence in the room was only interrupted by the soft crackle of the fire and the gentle rhythm of Wilhelm’s breathing.

Her tears finally subsiding, Genevieve took a shaky breath and fixed her gaze on the dancing flames, then cleared her throat.

“It happened when I was eighteen,” she began, her voice barely above a whisper, the memories of that night swirling in her mind like a hurricane.

“My parents, twin sisters, and I were on our way to a ball. The storm that night was horrific. The force of the wind and rain blew the trees sideways, and the road was filled with water, mud, and debris. The carriage lurched… and then…”

Her voice cracked, the image of the overturned carriage and the shattered remains of her family flashing before her eyes.

Wilhelm’s hand tightened around her, his touch a silent reassurance.

“You don’t have to relive this, Genevieve,” he soothed.

“I need to,” she insisted, her voice gaining strength. “I need to tell you, as you have told me.”

Wilhelm squeezed her hand to give her the strength she needed to continue.

She took another deep breath, the warmth of the fire seeping into her chilled bones.

“My parents… my sisters… they were gone. And it was not just me. My best friends—Sophia and Rosaline—were in the carriages behind ours.” She swallowed hard, fighting back the tears. “They, too, were branded as cursed. In the eyes of the Ton, we were a coven of witches. The Ton forced them to leave London just to escape the rumors. I, however, had nowhere else to go.”

Her gaze met Wilhelm’s, her eyes filled with pain so sharp, it felt as if needles were puncturing her soul.

“They were taken away from me, Wilhelm,” she whispered, her voice quivering. “My cousin Rosaline, my friend Sophia… they were whisked away, hidden from the world, their lives shattered by the whispers and accusations of the Ton. Just like mine.”

Wilhelm’s heart ached for her, his experiences of loss and isolation resonating with her pain. He reached out, his fingers gently tracing the tear stains on her cheeks.

“And your father’s heir?” he prompted, his voice a soft encouragement.

Genevieve’s expression hardened, and she pursed her lips as the memories of her life with her uncle resurfaced.

“My uncle? Oh, he was a despicable man,” she said bitterly. “He saw me as nothing more than a pawn, a means to pay off the family’s debts.”

She shuddered, the phantom touch of her uncle’s hand sending a wave of revulsion through her. “He controlled my every move, dictated my every action, and sought to mold me into a perfect, obedient wife for his own gain.”

Her voice cracked, the tears threatening to spill once more.

“I felt so trapped, Wilhelm,” she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper. “Suffocated. And I had no way of escaping it. I had nowhere to go.”

Wilhelm’s heart ached for her. He pulled her close, his embrace a haven of warmth and safety.

Genevieve clung to him, her tears soaking his shirt, her body trembling with both relief and gratitude.

Wilhelm’s lips brushed against hers, gentle and unhurried, a kiss that whispered farewell to everything they had endured and left behind. His warmth grounded her in a present that, for the first time, finally allowed her to breathe.

As they parted, his earnest gaze searched hers, imparting a promise of love, honor, safety, and kindness that made her heart soar.

“You are safe now, Genevieve.” His words finally dispelled the storm that had been raging within her for years.

As he stroked her hair, the tension in her body slowly began to ease. She felt hollowed out but not empty, the pain in her soul exorcized by Wilhelm’s patient care.

“I will not let anyone hurt you ever again.”