Chapter 13

13

Ten torturous minutes later, Lucien squinted through the sheets of rain, relief flooding him as he finally saw the outlines of the rough stone cottage peeking through the violently swaying trees and bushes. It was an old groundkeeper’s cottage, long abandoned since Pryde’s father had built a warmer and a more modern one on the other side of the estate.

The wind howled, whipping branches into a frenzy and pelting them with debris. Each flash of lightning illuminated Chastity’s figure so comfortably nestled between his thighs and arms on his mount. Chastity’s scared horse was tethered to his own steed and walked behind them.

“Almost there!” he yelled through a deafening crack of thunder. “Hold on!”

She nodded, shaking from cold. Her bonnet clung to her head, rivulets of water running down the creases. His own clothes were plastered to his skin, heavy and wet.

The cottage stood forgotten, its stone walls covered in ivy, its roof sagging but mostly intact. A small lean-to stable was built on the right side, still looking sturdy enough for the horses. When they arrived, he helped Chastity dismount and ensured she reached the door before he led the horses to the lean-to, relieved to find a pile of old hay inside. He removed their tack as quickly as he could with his stiff and wet fingers, then gave them a rubdown with handfuls of hay.

With a deep breath, he stepped back into the rain and trotted towards the house. As his hand grasped the door handle, a strange mix of anticipation and apprehension washed over him.

Him and Chastity stuck in the middle of a storm in a house…all alone.

Lord help him.

He entered the single cozy room. A sturdy dark wood table stood in the center with three simple wooden chairs around it. Against the far wall was a double bed with a faded patchwork quilt. By the small window, a worn armchair sat beside a side table with a candle, perhaps where it would get the best light.

Chastity knelt next to the fireplace that dominated one rough stone wall. The hearth was still lined with well-worn cooking implements. Chastity remained in her wet dress, her hands outstretched towards the fire she’d managed to light. Lucien shivered at the anticipation of some warmth on his skin, the wet clothes drawing all heat out of his body. The air was musty but not unpleasant, smelling of wood smoke and dried herbs. Despite the layer of dust and cobwebs, Lucien felt a sense of warmth and comfort.

She turned back to him in the shadows, her face illuminated by the flames. She’d removed her bonnet. Her eyes were big and dark, and her hair was all misted and clinging to her. Good heavens…he could see the outline of her figure—every detail. Her nipples were two hard points visible through the layers of her corset, her chemise, and her dress.

Don’t look at her nipples.

The memory of Chastity’s terrified face during the storm sent another shiver through Lucien’s body. He proceeded into the house and dragged a wooden chair towards the fireplace. As he settled into the seat and stretched his hands towards the flames, he struggled to chase away the chill of imagining Chastity with a broken neck had he not intervened.

“Are you all right?” he asked. “That must have been quite a scare.”

“I’m fine. I… Thank you for saving me.”

He gave her a nod and shivered yet again. He just couldn’t get warm in his wet clothes. As he removed his coat and his waistcoat, he noted with satisfaction she turned her face away quickly. He hung the garments over another chair and placed it closer to the fireplace.

“I’d like to remove everything,” he said, “but that would probably offend you.”

She threw him a glare. “Do not dare. If anyone finds us here alone, I’m ruined. And you’d either have to fight Dorian in a duel or marry me.”

Lucien froze, a sense of terror washing over him like a wave of ice.

He heard Dorian’s voice saying, Anyone but you….

Good Lord, it was one thing to know he was completely worthless. It was another when his best friend, who was like his true brother, told him this. He’d never be good enough for his sister, literally anyone but him.

“I don’t think anyone will find us here. It’s an old groundkeeper’s cottage only Pryde knows about. I saw most guests heading towards the manor anyway.” He let out a dry, humorless laugh. “Besides, Dorian would never allow me to marry you.”

“Please do not pretend Dorian is your main concern. You’d be the first to run for the hills at the mention of a wedding.”

His eye twitched. “Darling, if I married anyone, I’d be so lucky to call you my wife.”

She stared at him then, her mouth open in silent surprise. “Am I hearing this right? Me—your wife?”

“I’m not proposing. To anyone. I don’t want a wife at all. You know that.”

“Indeed. And here I thought abstinence was changing you for the better.”

Nothing could change him for the better. Save, perhaps, her. But he said nothing, just stared at her.

Chastity sighed, and her expression grew distant. “You know, sometimes I envy you men.”

He raised an eyebrow, amusement tugging at his lips. “Do you now?”

“You have so much freedom. Full control over your lives. Men hold the power in society, in marriage. You can choose your path in life, while we often have to rely on a good match to secure our futures.”

“That sounds suffocating, darling,” Lucien said. “But any marriage is.”

“Exactly. Many women are forced to marry to have any financial security at all.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Is that what you’re hoping marriage to Lord Wardbury would give you?”

“I know Dorian will take care of me, but even he can’t give me everything. If I had my own means, I could fund independent research…support other female scientists…”

Lucien’s stomach ached for her. He wished he could give her everything her heart desired, but how could he if he was never anything more to her than a family friend?

There was a moment of silence between them, both lost in thought. Then Chastity spoke again. “How did you find me, anyway?”

He sighed. “I should have never lost sight of you in the first place. Should have known Lord Wardrobe would be a worthless companion. I suppose he’s better at science than knowing how to protect a lady.”

Not a wife. Not a child.

A terrifying notion…

Just as well that Lucien was doing this abstinence thing right now, though it was proving to be one of the most difficult things he’d ever done in his life. This beautiful creature in front of him made it even more so.

She frowned. “You lost sight of me, why could he not?”

Lucien sighed. “I endeavored to find you and Lord Wardbury did not. I heard someone screaming, and then I had this feeling… I just had this presentiment you were in trouble.”

She chuckled and smiled sadly, shifting closer to the fire. “Thank you, Lucien. I always had this sense about you, too, as we were growing up. Did you read that in the poem?”

He frowned. “What poem?”

She raised her eyebrows. “Wait, you never read it, did you?”

“Er…I don’t know. I don’t read poetry, you know that.”

“It was in the star I gave you. You remember? That day when your papa and mama came to fetch you? I could just feel you would need something strong to support you. I wanted to be that strength for you.”

He couldn’t speak. Of course he remembered the star she had made for him.

“Lucien, this is for you,” whispered six-year-old Chastity as she put a paper star in his hand. “To keep your spirits up until the next time you arrive.”

Ten-year-old Lucien took it, wind blowing hard into his face, bringing the scents of horses and mud down the driveway towards Rath Hall. A carriage, bearing the Luhst coat of arms and pulled by six horses, drove at full speed, bringing his torment to him like a harbinger of doom.

His papa and mama were coming to fetch him.

He clutched at the little paper star, staring at the approaching carriage. To his right, stood Dorian, pale and bandaged, with dark circles under his eyes. It had been only one sennight since his friend had recovered from the fever that had struck him after he’d broken through the glasshouse. They’d all thought Dorian would die.

Next to Dorian, stood his papa, the Duke of Rath, a forty-year-old man with a hard jaw, narrowly set eyes, and dark hair that was already graying. To his left, stood little Chastity, staring at Lucien with her big, blue, too-wise-for-her-age eyes.

“I measured the angles precisely,” she whispered. “The star is absolutely perfect. To achieve the five perfect points, the external angles are exactly 144 degrees and the internal angles 36 degrees. It’s the perfect star for you, Lucien.”

He smiled as he studied her serious face, trying to memorize every detail for the months he’d need to spend with his mama and papa. He spent winters, springs, and almost all summers in Rath Hall. Now his parents were coming to fetch him on their way from London to their country estate, to spend the autumn at house parties, hunting, and no doubt trying to kill each other with venomous words and murderous stares.

“Only you would measure the angles precisely in a simple paper star,” he murmured and turned it around in his hand.

It was clearly made from a page torn out of a book, though the only words he could distinguish were “light,” “stumbles,” and “home.”

As he looked at the carriage again, he couldn’t help but feel like he was being torn away from something important and warm and lovely, the paper star still clutched in his hand. He was crumpling it, making Chastity’s perfect angles all wrong.

But it gave him the strength to meet the man and the woman who descended from the carriage to take him away from the two people who felt like his true family.

And yet, he had never opened the star, even though he knew exactly where it was in his London house.

“I—er?—”

“It’s all right,” she said and shifted closer to the fire. “It’s for the best, anyway.”

She shivered and sneezed.

“Heavens, Chastity,” he said as he moved to sit on the bear hide before the fireplace. “You’re going to catch a cold. You need to warm up.”

Closer up, she seemed so fragile. He could see every outline of her body—the slender shoulders, the small and round breasts, the thin waist.

“You should remove your clothes,” he said.

A laugh burst from her. “Is that all it takes for you to get a lady into your bed? You must be good if you don’t need to use more charm than this.”

“I’m not trying to get you into bed,” he said through gritted teeth. “I’m only thinking of your well-being. Besides, it’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”

She chuckled. “Clearly.”

He sighed in vexation, then removed his wet shirt, remaining only in the hunting breeches. To his strange satisfaction, her eyes lingered on his naked body, her pupils growing bigger, her mouth opening.

“If you think that will help me undress, you couldn’t be more wrong.”

He gave a low, amused hum. “Go on, Chastity. You cannot believe in earnest I’ll touch you, especially when you clearly do not desire it.”

The wind kept howling, branches of trees snapping, hitting against the roof. He sighed. She was still shivering, and he needed to do something. He stood up and picked up the quilt from the bed.

Only one bed…

He offered her the blanket. Granted, it smelled a little musty, but that was better than her wet clothes.

“You’re shivering,” he said softly. “We just need to dry your clothes.”

She sighed. “All right. But you may not look.”

“Of course not.”

He turned around. He heard her moving, the sound of wet clothes being peeled off, then hung over the back of another chair, her sharp intake of breath as the air hit her wet skin. He was in agony. He closed his eyes, but he could still see her in his mind. He could just imagine her smooth skin, the curve of her hips leading into her waist. Her round breasts. Her nipples.

He must be a torture seeker. He became aroused just inhaling the scent of her wet clothes and hair, just hearing the whisper of clothes against her skin as she undressed. Good Lord help him, he could not turn around, not until his manly condition calmed down.

“I’m decent,” she said. “You may turn around.”

He exhaled very, very slowly. “I…er…I can’t.”

“Whyever not? I’m all wrapped in the blanket.”

He took a slow, deep breath. What did he have to lose if she saw him aroused? She couldn’t think any less of him.

He turned around, and as her gaze dropped to his bulge, her eyebrows crawled all the way up to her hairline.

“What…is that… Are you…”

The blanket was wrapped around her, and above it he could see a wet strip of linen still clinging to her shoulders. Her hair was undone and hung in wet triangles that clung to each other. He felt himself swelling even more.

“What this is, is an erection,” he said. “And yes, I’m very much aroused…” By you , he didn’t add.

She reached to her dress hanging over the chair. “This was a bad idea.”

“No. No. You should be dry. You should remove that chemise, too.”

Her eyes widened. “You’re…in such a state…and yet you’re telling me to remove the last piece of clothing I have on?”

He gave out a growl. “I’m not going to throw myself on you.”

She scoffed. “Clearly.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Well, let’s see, shall we? You’ve never thought me attractive. If you’re aroused now, it’s not because of me, it’s because of our bet and your abstinence. And, finally, you are intending to win the bet!”

He picked up the pillow from the bed, sat on the chair, and put it over his crotch. “Pay no attention to it. It’ll go away.”

“I don’t understand how you became this way, Lucien. As a boy, you were sweet. Considerate. The way you laughed… Do you remember that night we got out of the house and lay in the garden watching the stars? It was a particularly starry night. The moon was new and as thin as a thread, so there was almost no light. A great river of diamond dust flowed across the night.”

She may have watched the great river of diamond dust over their heads. All he could remember were her eyes with the glistening stars reflected in them. No celestial object could ever compare to her.

“Do you remember what we talked about?” she asked.

That was when he was still himself. Before that terrible day when everything had changed. “I remember it, Star. I started to call you that after that night. Because it was one of the happiest moments of my entire life.”

Their eyes locked. He could stand, go to her, and kiss her…and just dissolve into her. His friend, one of the two souls in this world who knew him best.

“It was one of the happiest moments of my life, too,” she said. “You told me about your dreams. Your deepest desires. That you wanted to be an exemplary duke for your papa and mama, but you didn’t know how because it seemed no matter what you did, your parents never approved. That if you could do anything, you would paint all day and design houses. That if you could reach out into the sky and grasp one of the stars you would.”

His throat clenched. He could remember that night like it was yesterday. The warm air, the blanket under him and Chastity, the gentle hum of night insects, and the soft rustling of the wind in the trees around them.

And her.

“Do you know why I called you Star?”

“No.”

“Because you are as bright as one. And when I looked into the sky, all I saw was you. In every one of them.”

She shifted closer to him. “What happened to you? I gave you the paper star, they took you away, and when they returned you later that autumn, you were distant. Different.”

He looked into the fire. It was rare these days to have a real fire due to the price of coal being so much cheaper than wood.

“When we arrived home,” he said, “Mama said something terrible—that she should have aborted me.”

Chastity went to sit on the chair next to his, reached out, and caressed his cheek.

This was more than he could handle, and he felt his self-restraint snap like an overstretched thread. He caught her hand, pulled her into an embrace, and she fell into his lap. The weight of her was light and very satisfying on his thighs. She gasped, and he was sure she’d jump to her feet and scold him.

But to his astonishment, she hesitated, then wrapped them both in the blanket, her arms around his neck. He could feel her warm body under the wet linen, clinging to him.

He was afraid to look into her eyes and see the same sort of disappointment he was used seeing from his parents.Steeling himself, he finally looked up. They were that sky-blue color, and full of tears.

For him?

“Do you remember my uncle?”he asked.

“Of course. Lord Cedric Wrenn. The famous rake.”

He nodded. “It was he who helped me learn how to protect myself. He told me that I could connect to people with my body while leaving my heart intact. That was what he did. And that was what I started doing. When I returned to Rath Hall after that, I knew I should have never existed in the first place. That everyone, including you and Dorian, knew how rotten and bad I was deep down. I thought, why bother to love and invest in friendship when I would only be let down severely anyway?”

Chastity sighed and, to his surprise, gently stroked his wet hair.

“I believed that to guard my heart from pain,” he said as he looked at her, “I couldn’t let others get close. Or they’d see me for who I really am. Nothing.”

It took everything to tell her that. To expose his greatest fear. The very worst truth he believed about himself. Not even Dorian knew, not really.

“Oh, Lucien. You might think you’re nothing, but you’re everything to some people.”

He frowned. “Which people?”

“Dorian. Your five other dukes.” She blushed severely and then knocked him completely off his feet when she said, “Me.”