Chapter 16

CHAPTER 16

" Y ou flatter me, Lord Fealton." Frances scrunched her nose at the Viscount's compliment on her dancing.

"'Tis true. I was never comfortable dancing before, but you seem to make everything more enjoyable." Lord Fealton leaned in. "And please, call me Derek."

Frances' breath caught in her throat. "Oh, I couldn't do that. It wouldn't be proper."

"It will be." He sounded most confident, and Frances couldn't help but feel put off by his posturing.

"Possibly." She smiled and looked around the ballroom, hoping for an escape. Lightning lit the sky outside, so she wouldn't be able to request a break for air.

Frances chewed her bottom lip. The dance was going perfectly fine until he said that. It was just another reminder of what lay ahead of her. While she was enjoying the steps with the Viscount, it was just that, steps. This is what her life would be like, just going through the motions, nothing surprising, nothing exciting. No hallway closet trysts, no stolen moments in a library. No passion. The distressing thought caused her to misstep.

"Careful, Miss Ambrose." Lord Fealton's arms circled around her waist. "I say I am quite honored that the idea of a more formal relationship between us has caused you to swoon."

"My apologies, I usually do my partner justice on the dance floor."

Lord Fealton resumed the dance. "I have no doubt you would do your partner justice anywhere."

And just as quickly as her aversion for the Viscount came over her, it left. He really did seem like a genuine and caring man. She couldn't help but smile up at his compliment.

"Speaking of which, may I call on you and your father tomorrow?"

Frances never knew she could actually feel her color draining from her face. It felt as if all the blood pooled in her feet. Waves of nausea crashed in her stomach while dots danced in front of her eyes. This is it. He's going to ask me to marry him tomorrow.

Frances licked her lips, and her pulse raced. She willed her mouth to form a word, but which one? "Yes" would seal her fate to the man before her. "No" would put her family in further jeopardy. Images of her father hunched over ledgers danced along while dark oceanic eyes called to her.

Her loyalty won. With a quick affirmative shake of her head, she bid the Viscount farewell and made her to the refreshment table. Just within reach of the punch, someone grabbed her spun her around.

"Duke Pilton, what is the meaning of this?"

He brought her wrist up and grabbed at the dangling dance card. Using the pen from his coat, he wrote his name on the open spot and then proceeded to drag her to the dance floor.

He ignored her futile attempts to get his attention or stop him. He just marched them to the middle of the dance floor and turned to look at her. Curious eyes followed their movements with whispers and giggles.

"What are you doing?" she demanded.

" We're dancing. It's a shame for all those lessons to go to waste. Wouldn't you agree?" he asked with a tilt of his head, those dark blue eyes challenging her.

Frances' mouth dropped open. For the second time that night, Frances' heart began to race. But this time it was not out of shock or fear but from want and need.

He stood with his hand out, waiting for her to respond. She eyed him up and down and felt a thrill when he adjusted the belt at his waist and her eyes landed there. She took a step towards him, placing her hand into his. Within a breath, he pulled her in and swept her up into the dance.

This is what she wanted. She didn't want a nice and easy life; she wanted passion and all the chaos it brought. She felt as if she were swept up in a storm at sea, and she never wanted to touch dry land again.

As the Duke twirled her, he held her tightly. They didn't speak. For once they kept their mouths quiet and let their hearts dictate their dance. Lost to the music, Frances let herself imagine a life with Thomas. Quiet afternoons in the library, her reading while he worked. Passion-filled nights that would leave her feeling drunk and satiated. She envisioned the fights that would lead to more passion-filled nights. She even let herself picture little heads of dark hair and blonde children running through the grounds.

The dream began to fade with the music. As their movements slowed, Frances was overcome with emotion. Her heart wasn't able to withstand this torture. She was about to fall apart, and she couldn't do it here.

She straightened her arms and pushed the Duke away. Without a word, she turned and ran out of the ballroom, not caring about the murmurs in her wake.

Frances rushed past the steward at the front door and ran up the main staircase. From her many explorations of Lady Staunton's estate as a child, she knew there was a study on the second floor that would give her the privacy she needed. She ran up to the first door and found it locked, same with the next one.

"Cursed doors. Open up!" she yelled while jiggling the handles.

Tears streamed down her face. She rested her head against the door while sobs wracked her body. This cannot be how it is supposed to be.

A large hand turned her, and she found herself enveloped in a hug. The smell of sandalwood and brandy wafted over her, and she sank into Thomas.

His arms tightened around her, making her feel the safest she had ever felt which made the sobs come harder. He gently began to sway back and forth while his one hand cupped the back of her head and held it to his chest.

The movement helped calm her yet broke her all the same.

"What is it, Frances?"

She pulled away and took the offered handkerchief. Dabbing her eyes and sniffling, she couldn't bring herself to look up into his eyes.

"Our agreement is over. We're at the ball, your sister is fully accepted into society, and you…" A hiccup escaped her. If she wasn't already falling apart in front of him, she would've been embarrassed, but she couldn't find the pride to care.

"You… you're…"

His finger lifted her chin, forcing her to look into his eyes. "I'm here. With you." His finger traced her quivering lip. "There is nowhere else I'd rather be." His lips replaced his finger in an all-consuming kiss.

Frances rose on her toes to meet his demanding lips. She opened and let his tongue entangle with hers. Oh, how she missed the way brandy tasted on his tongue. She moaned into his mouth.

He backed her up against the door while his hands raced over her body. It was as if he wanted all of her and didn't know where to start. The idea of him being so overcome with want ignited something deep within Frances' belly.

Her one hand found purchase in his hair while the other snaked under his coat and wrapped around his waist to his muscular back where she pulled him in closer. She, too, wanted, needed more.

A slight creak of the floorboards had Thomas pulling away.

"Frances," he laid his forehead against hers. "Dammit, Frances. I can't stop myself around you. We must stop this. I'm not the one for you."

"Stop." Frances didn't recognize her own voice. It was one of determination, of resolve. For the first time since meeting Thomas, she was not a questioning, quivering, nervous girl. She was a woman who knew what she wanted, and it was time she got it. She held Thomas at arm's length and looked up into his eyes.

"I'm tired of playing by the rules. I was correct when I said our agreement is over. The ball is happening downstairs, and you and your sister are both on your way to becoming very respected in society. Now, it's time for you to fulfill your end of the bargain."

Thomas stared back down at her, his eyes questioning. "Frances. This is not the way."

"No, you're right. The correct way would be with a man whom I love on my wedding night. But that won't happen. Please, Thomas, I begged once before, do not make me do it again."

Thomas looked down the empty hallway. Their ragged breaths hung heavy between them.

"I don't want you to regret this." His hands raked through his hair. "It would kill me to know you would regret your choice." He shook his head no. "I cannot. You ask too much of me."

She pulled him in by his lapels. "The only regret I will have is never knowing what true passion tastes like, what it feels like. I feel those things with you , Thomas. And it is intoxicating. If I could, I would live off of those emotions alone for the rest of my life."

Thomas' eyes landed on her mouth "You speak of things you do not know."

"Then teach me. Let me know. Once and for all, Thomas, put me in my place."

Something flashed in his eyes that sent a bolt of electricity through her. He grabbed the back of her neck and pulled her in, devouring her mouth. "If you need to stop, you tell me. Understood?"

She barely shook her head yes when he grabbed her waist and threw her over his shoulder.

"Oh!" she squeaked. She couldn't contain the giggles that bubbled out of her. Whether out of nerves or just simple excitement, she couldn't decipher, but a warm sensation flushed through her system, leaving her lightheaded. Thomas turned and headed further down the hall, pushing open a door.

A few steps into the room, she was thrown down onto the softest bed she'd ever lain on. She brushed her hair that had fallen out of her coif and looked up at Thomas. The shadows from the storm outside danced around the man who was now standing over her.

In any other instance, she would be terrified, but with Thomas, she felt safe. Pure elation coursed through her blood. He looked dangerous, ravenous, and exactly like everything she wanted.

"I'm going to do my best not to hurt you, but it will hurt." Thomas' voice was strained. His body shook from the power that was simmering just under the surface

Frances shook her head. "I know. The girls have told me enough of what to expect from the actual act, but I trust you."

Thomas exhaled a deep breath. "I'll never know how someone as precious as you chose someone like me, but I'm not fool enough to question it." He ripped off the cravat as he lay on top of her. Once again, he claimed her mouth, pushing his tongue to dance with hers. His hands pulled at ribbons and buttons, anything that would free her from the confines of her dress.

Frances had a momentary lapse of courage. She didn't know what to do with her hands. Up? Down? Did she tear at him like he did to her? She understood the mechanics of what she was doing but not the details.

"Frances." Thomas' stern voice cut through her worries. "I can hear you thinking."

Embarrassed, she bit her bottom lip. Catching the movement, Thomas nipped at her lip causing her to giggle.

"I, all of a sudden, feel very inexperienced," she confessed.

Thomas smiled and ran his hand through her hair. "For someone so confident and outspoken in society, I find this side of you fascinating."

Frances narrowed her eyes. "I'm glad I'm amusing you."

Thomas eyes lit. "Ah. There she is. My prim and proper lady. The one who's not afraid to act on instinct."

"What has that got to do with anything?"

Thomas kissed her neck, tracing the column of her neck with his tongue, sending a ripple of pleasure straight to her core. "Everything." He traced the other side. "This is no different, Frances. Follow your instinct. Put me in my place. I know you know how to that," he said with a smirk as he moved his kisses onto her breast.

Frances' hands found purchase in his hair as she arched her back, giving him more access to her body. "There are many ways to do this, my love. It can be all consuming and demanding," he sucked in a nipple, causing her to gasp.

"It can be slow and gentle," he kissed around the hardened peak. "It can be a bit of both," he teased. His hand kneaded her breast as his lips moved further down her body. Frances' skin began to heat. Blood rushed to her brain. His words became muffled by the sound of her beating heart echoing in between her ears.

When his mouth landed on the apex between her thighs, she let out a surprised moan. She tried to scoot away, but his arms held her hips in place. She looked down at him curiously.

"Th-Thomas? Is this… no one has told me about this ."

Thomas placed another kiss. "No one else is here, Frances. It's just you and me. The only judgment here is your instinct. Does it feel good?" This time when his mouth returned, he sucked her nub into his mouth. Frances' eyes rolled shut, and her body instinctively pushed up against his mouth.

"Yes."

She could feel his grin against her. "Do you wish for me to continue?"

She opened her mouth, but no words came out. She closed her mouth and tried to speak once more. After failing to speak again, she vigorously shook her head up and down.

"Come now, Frances, what did we discuss about using our words?"

Frances swallowed. "Yes, please, continue." Her words were breathy and barely audible, but it was enough for him to fully engage his mouth onto her.

The initial shock and embarrassment disappeared and were replaced with a fiery longing for this man to be everywhere, all at once. She wanted to feel his weight on top of her again, but she wanted his tongue where it was.

She began to feel hot and frustrated. Little whimpers escaped her. She followed Thomas' advice and let her body react on instinct. She raked her hands through his hair, pulling him closer. Her hips began to roll as a pressure began to build. It was similar to the time in the closet, but this was different.

Her mind was lost to her body. She had no control, she was chasing something, something only Thomas could give her.

"That's right, my love. Let go." His kisses and sucking kept time with her hips. His own moans vibrating through her sent her closer to her goal.

Thomas flicked her nub one more time causing Frances to grab Thomas' head still as waves of ecstasy washed over her. She screamed out his name.

She lay there panting as Thomas kissed his way back up her body. He settled between her legs which now lay open; she wouldn't be able to close them if she wanted to. Which she didn't. The weight of him on her felt right. If she could bottle up this feeling, she would.

Thomas nibbled on her ear, causing little goosebumps to emerge on her arms. She squirmed from the sensation, and Thomas began to move away.

"No." She stopped him. "I wasn't lying, Thomas. I want more. I want you . Please."

"Frances. Once we do this, there's no going back. Your… husband will know you're not a virgin."

Frances shrugged. "I don't care." She pulled him down for a kiss. As she deepened the kiss, she could feel him reach between them to unbutton his shirt, his breeches. A giggle escaped her as he tried to keep kissing her through his ministrations.

Finally, he laid on top of her, his naked body resting on hers. She always thought laying with a man would feel different, unsavory even. But it was quite the opposite. Feeling his weight, his length, his everything on top of her, she felt complete. Happy. Content.

Her hands lightly ran up and down his back, tracing muscles. She felt goosebumps rise on his skin and felt like a queen. Thomas stared down in wonderment. "How do you do these things to me?"

Frances smiled. "I ask myself the same question about you."

Thomas took a deep breath. "This will hurt. If it is too much, let me know, and I'll try to stop."

Frances shook her head and felt intense pressure pushing into her. She gasped and shut her eyes.

"Look at me Frances." At Thomas' command, she opened her eyes and looked into his. "Focus on me. You're holding your breath. Let it out. That's it. Relax around me. That's a good girl."

The pressure turned into a slight burn. Lightning flashed, and she could see the strain on Thomas' face. She brought her hands up to cradle his face. "I'm all right, Thomas." She kissed him. "Please, just go."

Thomas' teeth clenched as he pushed further in, letting out a groan when he was fully sheathed in her. "My god, Frances. You feel like heaven on earth." He began to move, ever so slightly. With each thrust, the pain receded and was replaced with a feeling of fullness that had pressure building within her core again.

"Thomas, kiss me."

"With pleasure." Thomas leaned down and worked his tongue into her mouth as his thrusts became stronger and faster. Sweat glistened on their bodies as they moved in time with the storm outside, their moans matching the intensity of the rolling thunder.

Frances never knew it could be like this. For her, so much of her life was black and white, hot or cold. He ravished her body while handling her with great care. She got the best of both worlds in one man.

"Frances, I don't think I will last much longer."

Frances shook her head, not fully understanding what he was saying, but she trusted him. He moved faster while she held on to his slick shoulders, her own orgasm continuing to build. He growled into her neck when she raised her legs and wrapped them around his waist.

He reached up and took each of her hands in his and laid them above her head. Holding her there, he looked down into her eyes. "How did you manage do it?"

"Do what?" she asked in between sharp inhales.

"Completely tear down every wall I put up."

Frances searched his eyes. What she found broke the dam that was holding her feelings at bay. Immense emotion crashed over her as her orgasm broke free. His followed soon after.

Her scream was partly out of exhilaration but mostly heartbreak. Tears mixed with sweat ran down her cheeks. Thomas' thrusts slowed down until they stopped altogether. Once more, he rested his forehead against hers. Her eyes were closed, not wanting to open them to face reality. He kissed away each fallen tear which was then replaced by another tear.

"Shhh, Frances. Did I hurt you? I'm so sorry, my love."

A sob escaped. She knew he used the term "love" offhandedly, but she couldn't help but feel the longing for it to be true.

He rolled off her and tucked her naked body into his side, allowing her head to fall to his chest. "We can rest here a bit. We need to get back to the ball before someone notices, though. It would be naive of us to think we left unnoticed."

She sniffled against his chest, the hair there tickling her cheek. She stared out the bedroom window, watching as the rain slowed to a slight drip.

She knew what she had to do — for her father's sake, for her heart's sake. She took one more moment to soak in the afterglow of her first time. She knew it would never be like this again; how could it? There was no man like Thomas. No one who could command such actions from her body yet give her all the control to allow it to happen at the same time. She knew she loved him; it was no longer something she could deny.

But she was not one of the lucky ones who could marry out of love. Her duty was to her father, and Thomas' duty was to his title.

Frances sat up, wiping the tears from her face. "Will you help me dress? I fear I won't be able to rejoin the party with a disheveled appearance. If anyone asks, can you please tell them I took ill?"

Thomas just shook his head.

After they dressed, he escorted her down a back staircase that led to the kitchens. He left her there while he went and got her carriage pulled around for her. With a quick glance to make sure no one of note was present, he walked her outside and helped her into the carriage.

He closed the door behind her and stood at the window. "Frances?"

She leaned forward, "Yes?" She bit her tongue; she hated how hopeful she sounded.

Thomas' smile didn't reach his eyes. He shook his head and waved to the footman to go.

Frances sat back and allowed the tears to come. Tomorrow would be the first day of her new life, so she would take tonight and grieve the life she could not have.