Chapter 20

20

Drake heard an ungodly roar. He lunged for Millie as Reynard fell. Grasping her shoulders, he turned her to face him.

Her face was deathly pale, contrasting against the slash of crimson across her left temple, over her nose, and down her right cheek. It was a gruesome parody of his own scar.

Millie began to shake violently. She looked at Drake, her beautifully dark eyes huge and full of horror, before she doubled over, retching the contents of her stomach all over his shoes.

He rubbed her back, pulled her hair away from her face, and whispered nonsense words to her.

‘I killed him,’ Millie gasped as the sobs took over.

Drake picked her up in his arms, cradling her like a child. ‘Yes, my love. You had no choice.’

‘I need to get out of here. Please. Get me out of here.’ She buried her head into his chest, smearing blood over his white cravat. He didn’t give a damn. She was safe. Alive. In his arms.

Drake carefully carried Millie up the stairs. He took the servants’ corridor to the family wing and strode down the hall, shaking his head at a shocked Killian and Hannah as they emerged from their rooms.

‘Make our excuses. We won’t be attending dinner. And there is a mess in the cellar.’ Drake didn’t wait for Killian to acknowledge his words. He didn’t ask his friend to handle it. Because he knew Killian and Hannah would manage the task. The only thing he cared about was Millie.

He couldn’t wait for a bath to be prepared. Instead, Drake carefully placed Millie in a chair by the fire. He poured water into a bowl on his dresser, soaping a washcloth. When he approached her, Millie’s gaze came into focus. She grabbed the cloth and began scrubbing her face. Jolting to her feet, she staggered over to the bowl. She rinsed the cloth, water sloshing over the rim and onto the table. She scrubbed at her face again, rubbing her skin raw.

Drake walked over to her, resting one hand on her shoulder and the other gently gripping her wrist, pulling the cloth out of her fingers.

‘Let me.’ He rinsed the cloth and gently dabbed her already clean face. As tears rolled down her cheek, he wiped them away.

For a time, they didn’t speak.

‘I killed him,’ she whispered, her eyes red-rimmed and haunted.

‘Yes.’

‘It was horrible.’

‘Yes.’

‘Am I a monster?’ Her bottom lip trembled.

Drake leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to her mouth. ‘No. You stopped a monster. And it’s never easy, Millie.’

Dropping the cloth into the bowl, he took both her hands, walked her back to the chair, sat down, and pulled her into his lap. She curled into him like a small child seeking sanctuary.

He ran his hands down her hair in long, firm strokes, and they said nothing for a while.

‘Beau, will you come to bed with me?’ Her husky voice wrapped him in velvet fingers.

‘Yes.’

Millie clambered off his lap and he helped her undress. Pulling back the covers, she climbed into bed, watching as he removed his jacket, vest, shirt, and trousers. He crawled in next to her, and she burrowed into his arms. Silken, warm, naked, she pressed against him as she wrapped her arms around his ribs and tightened her embrace.

He breathed in her scent as she nuzzled closer. Despite his best intentions to comfort, his cock thickened as her warm breath puffed against his chest.

‘I don’t expect us to… That is, just because I desire you doesn’t mean we need do any more than this.’ He cleared his throat and pressed a kiss against her hair.

Millie loosened her hold around him. Tipping up her chin to face him, she kissed the side of his mouth, then the scar on his cheek, and finally his lips. He let her take her time, exploring his mouth with her tongue, sucking on his bottom lip.

She pulled back, and her gaze unravelled him. ‘I want more. I need it.’ She stroked her thumb over his lip. ‘I don’t want to think about any of it. I just want to forget everything except this.’

Drake’s body tightened like a cello string being tuned. He rolled her on her back, grabbed both of her wrists, and pinned them over her head. Her breasts thrust out, strawberry nipples budded and crying for attention. Drake sucked one into his mouth, scraping his teeth over the puckered skin until Millie writhed beneath him.

He understood her need. To forget everything in the raw, visceral act of fucking. But he didn’t want to fuck her. He wanted to comfort her. Love her. Reassure her that she was whole, and healthy, and capable of creating something beautiful even after experiencing such horror.

Willing his cock to contain itself, he slowed his movements. Stroking down her body, his hands delighted in every soft curve, every strong line, each bump of her ribs, the texture of hair covering her mons, the slick heat as he dipped a finger into her core and circled the bud of flesh holding her pleasure.

‘Beau,’ she moaned.

Instead of plunging another finger into her depths, he pulled back, kissing her with complete focus. He nibbled her bottom lip before sucking it into his mouth. Balancing the tightrope of pleasure and pain, he bit down then peppered soft kisses over her cheeks, along her jaw, nuzzling her neck, biting the fragrant skin, and sucking. He could drown in Millie. Spin this moment into eternity. Stay lost in her until they both ceased to exist.

Millie needed more. She wanted the wild abandon, the desperate plunge into madness, the all-consuming blaze of need. He was dismantling her with excruciating care, but she didn’t want to be treated like a delicate thing which might shatter. Because she was so close to doing just that.

‘Harder,’ she commanded, wrapping her legs around him, pulling him tight to her and rubbing against his arousal with blatant demand. She needed to be torn apart by their passion so she could emerge a new creature.

‘You want this rough?’ His brows drew down, his icy gaze searing her with intense focus.

‘I don’t want you to hold back. Give me all of you. Everything.’ The ache of grief, relief, joy, and despair coalesced into a wave of emotion, washing away any reservations. She only wanted him. Her mind to be consumed with their moments together. Her whole self to be saturated with what they created. No room left for thought or memory or regret.

Knocking her thighs wider apart with his own, he made space for his body and plunged. He gripped her wrists again, pulling her arms over her head. She was pinned beneath him with no ability to give. Only receive what he poured into her.

He feasted on her breasts, biting, nipping, sucking, while he thrust again with his pelvis. Filling her to the point of burning pleasure, Drake gave no quarter. Slamming harder, the slap of his skin against hers created an erotic rhythm. He bit hard on her nipple. Millie cried out, lost to sensation and needing to fly higher. She twisted her hips until he hit her. Just there. A bright burst of incandescent joy filled her body.

‘Again!’ she cried out, greedy in her quest for absolution.

He let go of her wrists, grabbing her hips and pulling her pelvis higher as he plunged deeper. Faster. Over and over until she was nothing but sensation, spilling over the edges of reality, spinning into the ether, a cataclysmic shower of sparks.

Dawn fought with the lingering darkness as the room shifted from shadows to light. Drake buried his nose in Millie’s wild tangle of curls and breathed deeply. He sought courage in her familiar scent.

‘Millie, are you awake?’

She stretched against him, her back pressing into his chest, her luscious bottom rubbing against his suddenly interested cock.

But this wasn’t the time for seduction. This was the time for honesty. For total truth. Fear tasted metallic on his tongue.

‘I’m not sure,’ she murmured, then laughed. She turned her head and pulled him close, kissing him, her tongue testing the seam of his mouth.

It would be so easy to slip back into her body. Forget the words he needed to say, stay in this moment, and push reality into the far distance.

But it would come back. It always did. And the longer he postponed, the harder this would become.

‘I need to speak with you.’ Drake did what he most loathed to do. He pulled away from Millie. Getting out of bed, he found his trousers and her chemise.

She sat up, eyes widening in alarm. When he handed her the delicate cotton, her hand shook. ‘What’s happening? What do you need to say that requires us to dress?’

Quickly shoving his legs into his pants, he pulled them up and buttoned the waist before climbing back onto the bed. Sitting at the foot, he faced Millie.

She struggled to pull the chemise over her head, tugging her hair from the loose neck in an effortlessly arousing movement and letting it fall around her shoulders.

Drake wanted to imprint this moment into his memory forever. Millie’s mouth swollen from his kisses. Her hair a wild and fiery halo from their lovemaking. Her eyes still heavy-lidded, even though now they also filled with alarm. This was their beginning. Or their end. Either way, it would define the rest of his days.

‘Beau, please say something. You’re scaring me.’

He wanted to touch her. Reassure her with his body. But he knew his control was far too tenuous.

‘I’m releasing you from our engagement.’

Millie leaned back against the headrest, her mouth hardening. ‘What? Why? Is this because of what happened last night?’

Shit. That was badly done.

‘No. Please don’t think that. I don’t mean I no longer wish to marry you.’ He rushed to explain. ‘All I want is to be with you. Now and forever.’

Millie’s eyes – the exact shade of freshly brewed coffee – narrowed. ‘You wish to be with me forever, so you are breaking our engagement? Remind me why men are considered more logical than women.’

Drake’s lips twitched, but this was no time for levity. ‘When we first spoke of this engagement, in your father’s study after that kiss, you told me you didn’t want to marry me. You released me from any obligation to marry you.’

‘I remember.’ If a woman’s tone could cut, Drake would be bleeding all over the sheets.

‘But no one ever gave you the same choice. Not me. Not your father. Certainly not your horror of a stepmother.’

Millie scrunched her nose. ‘I’d rather not talk about Patricia when we’re in bed together. Or any time, actually.’

‘Good point. But so is mine. You deserve the right to choose. Not because you’re trying to escape a dirty old man. Not because you are trapped with a scarred earl and seeking freedom. Not because society is forcing you to follow rules of decorum.’

Drake was momentarily distracted by the elegant column of Millie’s throat contracting as she swallowed.

‘You are releasing me from this engagement so I can make my own choice about marrying you?’

Drake’s courage almost abandoned him. What if she left? What if he lost everything?

If she is free and happy and does not want me, then I will accept a solitary life.

‘Yes. I release you from this. I will tell your parents you broke the engagement. That I was not worthy of you. If you don’t wish to marry, Philippa will offer her home to you as long as you need it. You deserve freedom. If I give you nothing else, I hope to give you that.’

Millie crossed her hands under her breasts. ‘Do you still wish to marry me? Not because of your honour. Not because of our obvious attraction for each other. Not because I tricked you into compromising me. But because you want to be my partner in this madness.’

Drake never knew hope could hurt, but tears stung his eyes as he clenched his hands into fists and willed himself to stay in control. ‘More than anything. Yes.’

‘I wish to continue working with Philippa. Even after yesterday, maybe because of it. What happened, what I did was awful and terrifying and the most difficult moment of my life, but stopping Renquist saved you. It saved me. It saved countless other innocents. Will you be my partner in that as well?’

Drake exhaled. ‘I believe we are two sides of one coin, Millie. Your work with Philippa is just that. Yours. I may not agree with all your views, but I also won’t stop you from pursuing your goals.’

‘What if our goals conflict?’

‘Then we’ll compromise.’

Millie twisted her hair into a knot that immediately unravelled. ‘Compromise requires trust, Beau. This whole endeavour demands total trust. That isn’t our strength.’

‘I’m trusting you right now. To make the choice that is best for you. And if you choose me, you’ll be trusting me. I know a woman loses all autonomy to her husband. If you marry me, you’ll be trusting me to give that control back to you.’

‘You, a man who values control above all other things.’

‘A man who used to value control because it gave me comfort. Now, I just want you. Because you bring me comfort. And sanity. And endless frustrations as well, I’m sure, but I wouldn’t want it any other way. I will never try to control you or your choices. I may offer my opinions, even when you don’t ask for them. I won’t shy away from disagreements, and I won’t back down from conflict. I expect the same of you. But if we join our lives together, we do so as equals. Always.’

‘Our wedding is tomorrow, Drake. You would just let me leave? Knowing how the beau monde would ridicule you? How Nora and Patricia and all those hideous gossips would tear us both apart?’

‘I don’t care about them. I care about you. I want you to be happy, Millie. With or without me. And I have enough pride left to desire a union where my wife actually wants me. Where she hasn’t been forced or coerced or trapped into a lifelong commitment.’

And if I can’t have you as my wife, I don’t want another.

Millie shook her head. Pressing her hands against her eyes, she exhaled a shaky breath. It was all too much. He was offering her everything she wanted if she could just trust him to be true to his word. It was the biggest risk of her life.

‘I love you, Beau. I didn’t want to love you, but it happened anyway. It was like an unexpected gift to fall in love with the man I had to marry. But now, you’re telling me I don’t have to marry you. I never expected to be able to choose.’

When she didn’t have a choice, it was easy to make peace with the situation. But now, he was changing everything. This wasn’t an event happening to her. It was something she could influence. She was being given the greatest gift of all. Freedom to choose. And with her choice came ownership of the consequences. What if she chose Beau and they both regretted it?

‘I love you too, Millie. It’s because I love you, I won’t force this upon you. Even if it means losing all control.’ He huffed out a dry laugh. ‘I never had control of you to begin with, and I don’t want it now, or ever.’ He picked up her hand, pressing a kiss to her palm. ‘But I would like to share this life with you forever.’

There were still so many unknowns. And there always would be surprises, compromises, give and take. With two people as stubborn as Drake and Millie, the course of true love was bound to have a fair number of bumps, twists, and turns. But she wanted to travel that road with him.

‘If the choice is mine, Major General Beaufort Drake, Earl of Tetly, then I choose you. Now and forever.’ She leaned forward, pressing a kiss to his delicious mouth. ‘And my only regret is knowing Patricia will get her Yuletide marriage after all.’

Millie stood in front of the looking glass, her riot of flaming curls piled into an artful cascade, drawing attention to her elegant neck and sharp cheekbones. Her wedding dress was a confection of creamy silk, nearly matching her skin and showing off her curves to devastating effect.

She pinched her cheeks and pressed her lips together.

‘I don’t think Drake will manage to wait long enough for you to walk down the aisle. I’d wager my favourite dagger on him sprinting past the pews, sweeping you into his arms, and dragging you right back here.’ Hannah came next to Millie, sliding an arm around her waist. A waist cinched so tight, Millie wasn’t sure she could take a full breath.

‘You look like an angel.’ Ivy came on the other side, tilting her head to the left as she watched Millie’s reflection.

Millie scrunched her nose. ‘Careful, I’m not sure the angels will stand for such blasphemy.’

‘Who wants an angel when devils are so much more fun?’ Hannah winked and nudged Millie with her hip.

Philippa strode into the room. Her silk and lace gown was a shade lighter than blackcurrant. ‘You look well, Millicent. Ready to sacrifice yourself on the altar of societal stupidity.’

Millie gave Hannah and Ivy a long look before turning. ‘Thank you, Philippa. You look ready to attend a funeral.’

‘Exactly.’ Philippa thwacked her jewel-encrusted fan against her leg. ‘I do wish you ladies would stop succumbing to Cupid and his ridiculous arrows.’ She turned to Ivy. ‘Perhaps I have some hope with you, Miss Cavendale.’

Ivy’s cheeks flushed pink, and she ducked her head. ‘I’m in no danger of falling in love, Lady Winterbourne. I can assure you of that. But while I appreciate you being willing to work with me, I could never accomplish the missions you, Hannah, and Millie complete. I just want to learn how to keep myself safe, Your Grace.’

Philippa’s sharp blue eyes lingered on Ivy. ‘And so you shall, Miss Cavendale.’

‘Miss Millicent, I have your veil.’ Penny came in, a gauzy length flowing behind her like a cape. There was a crown of white roses attached to the top.

‘Penny, it’s gorgeous!’

Philippa swung around to raise a brow at Penny. ‘Always ready with what’s needed. A wonderful trait to have in so many situations.’

Penny returned Philippa’s steady gaze. ‘Thank you, Your Grace.’ She turned to Millie. ‘Come and sit, miss.’

Millie sat at her vanity and Penny fitted the crown on her head, fluffing the veil.

The moment was perfect. Until Patricia arrived.

She sailed into the room in a turquoise gown with peacock feathers sewn into the skirt. A few of the gaudy feathers fluttered around her perfectly curled ringlets.

‘Dear God.’ Philippa thwacked her fan again. ‘How many poor birds were massacred for that monstrosity of a dress?’

Patricia narrowed her green gaze at Philippa. ‘I would like to speak with my daughter.’ She turned her glare on Ivy, then Hannah, then Penny. ‘Alone.’

Ivy walked over to Millie, her hand resting on Millie’s shoulder. Hannah put one hand on her hip, the other slipped into her pocket. Penny stayed perfectly still.

‘Fine. Stay if you like. But I imagine Your Grace will wish you’d left when I reveal her most horrifying secret.’ Patricia hissed Philippa’s title like it were a curse before pursing her lips in a sour pucker.

Millie stood and turned to face her stepmother. ‘Don’t, Patricia. I beg you. Stop this madness now.’

Patricia’s tinkling laughter cut through the air like a thousand pieces of shattered glass. ‘Don’t what? Share your secret with your closest friends? Surely such an intimate group of women already know your sins, Millicent.’

Philippa tapped a finger against her blood-red lips. ‘You seem a woman intimately acquainted with sin, madame. Hold us in suspense no longer. Share your secret. But I warn you, those who threaten me do so at great personal risk.’

Patricia blinked quickly and swallowed hard. A bead of sweat trickled down her perfectly powdered cheek. ‘Not even the Duchess of Dorsett can survive the scandal my words will unleash. The beau monde will tear you to shreds when the Star of Venus reveals you to be a sapphist! Don’t play innocent with me, Lady Winterbourne. I know your proclivities. Your sinful choice to fornicate with other women – including my stepdaughter – will ensure your destruction.’ Patricia’s wild gaze flew around the room. ‘What do you think now of your precious duchess?’

Hannah burst into laughter. ‘My opinion of Philippa hasn’t changed. However, I now believe you are stark raving mad, madame.’

‘I won’t be the one sentenced to an asylum. Trust me on that. The House of Lords won’t stand for such deviant behaviour from one of their own.’ Patricia pointed her bony finger at Philippa. ‘If you want my lips to remain sealed, you’ll pay. Large sums. To me.’ She turned to Millie. ‘As will you, dear daughter, unless you want your husband’s name to be dragged through the mud. Imagine what they’ll say about the Earl of Tetly being cuckolded by a woman. A duchess, no less. I doubt Queen Victoria will maintain a friendship with such a wicked wanton.’ Patricia wheeled back to Philippa. ‘You’ll lose everything. Everything!’ she screamed.

Philippa took three long strides toward Patricia. She slapped her hard. Patricia’s head snapped to the side. Before Patricia could react, Philippa grabbed the back of her hair, pulling Patricia’s face close enough for Philippa to whisper in her ear.

Millie watched in fascination as Patricia’s eyes widened, her mouth dropped open, and her pale face went almost completely white save for the red mark of Philippa’s hand. Tears filled Patricia’s green eyes as she gasped.

‘You wouldn’t.’

Philippa pulled away. She stretched her blood-red lips in a vicious smile. ‘Oh, my dear. I most certainly will. And I’ll savour every single moment.’

Patricia stumbled backward, tripping on her skirts. She would have landed on her skinny bottom had Penny not swooped in and caught her, righting the woman. ‘I think… I’ll just… I’m suddenly feeling very ill.’ She turned and ran out of the room, her peacock feathers fluttering around her in wild disarray.

‘What on earth did you say?’ Millie was almost too frightened to ask.

‘Did I ever mention my dear friend, Charlotte Barrows? She’s always had a way with words, dear Lottie. Probably what makes her so good at her job.’

‘What job is that?’ Hannah’s lips curled into a smile before she even heard the answer.

‘Oh, she’s the head writer for the Star of Venus .’ Philippa brushed a stray hair back into place.

Ivy burst into laughter. ‘Your Grace! A most shocking acquaintance for a duchess, wouldn’t you say?’

Philippa raised her brow. ‘I would say a duchess is allowed a great many shocking things. Remember, ladies, threatening a predator never ends well for the prey. A lesson we should all heed.’ Philippa walked over to Millie. She put her hands on either shoulder and pulled Millie close, pressing a quick kiss to her cheek. ‘I don’t think your stepmother will be attending the wedding, Millicent. Consider it my wedding gift to you.’

Major General Beaufort Drake had faced hordes of fierce warriors determined to cut him down. He’d endured years of torture. He had met Queen Victoria three times. Never had he felt more nervous in his life than he did standing in the small chapel in the centre square of Bedford’s township. The pews were full of faces he didn’t recognise, save for the first two rows. There was a good chance he would toss up his accounts all over his shiny shoes.

Killian leaned closer. ‘Steady on, man. Wouldn’t want you swooning at your own wedding. I left the smelling salts in my other jacket.’

‘Fuck off,’ Drake growled.

‘Millicent is a lucky woman to marry such a poet.’ Killian snickered.

Drake would have displayed the range of his poetic prowess if all the air hadn’t suddenly been sucked from the room.

Millie stood at the entrance of the church. Snow fell behind her in a wonderland of white.

Drake’s fluttering heart stopped completely.

She smiled at him, and it raced back to life, the jolt almost painful.

She glided down the aisle, a proud Valkyrie come to claim his soul. But it was too late. She already had it.

When she reached his side, he gripped her hands with cold fingers. ‘I had a sudden and terrible fear you changed your mind.’

Millie’s eyes warmed like melting chocolate. ‘Never. We’re in this together, Beau.’

‘Partners.’ He lifted her hand and pressed a kiss against her knuckles.

Reaching her hand to cup his face, she traced her thumb over his bottom lip. ‘For better or worse.’

‘For now, and forever.’ Drake pulled her close, pressing a kiss to her mouth despite the indignant huff of the vicar behind him.

Millie pulled back. ‘Scandalous, sir. Compromising me in front of all these people.’

‘Ah, but didn’t you say it’s just a kiss? Certainly not worth sacrificing your life over.’

‘That depends entirely on the kiss.’

‘God, I love you.’

‘Well, that seals it. Because I love you too. You’ll have to marry me now.’ Millie’s rich gaze caught the light, turning from chocolate to whiskey.

‘Your wish is my command.’ He took her right hand in his left, and they turned to face their future. Together.