14. Caroline

14

Caroline

T he glittering tower of sparkling fruit juice seemed to shake with every beat of the drums. The feathered table centrepieces closest to the lively jazz band were in almost constant movement. Sian had gone all out on the decorations for David’s goodbye party, until the celebration took on a life of its own.

String lights twinkled above their heads, draped over one another until the individual strings ceased to exist, turning into a hive of shimmering stars. Their light was caught by the pale pink fringe curtains, interlaced with strings of metallic emerald.

Caroline opened her folding fan—its feathers dyed a light, creamy pink to match her dress. She’d assumed that her pool of potential New York dance partners would be as limited as its London counterpart; in other words, limited to the male family members and husbands of the women she knew. While it was true she had danced with Roscoe this evening, to her surprise, she’d had a bevy of other partners alongside him.

Perhaps it was due to her novelty. Regardless of the reason, eyes had been on her all night, prickling her skin and quickening her heartbeat. Knowing she was being watched wasn’t something she was used to—or comfortable with, but all of her dance partners had been kind.

A tempestuous sea of feather headbands filled the dance floor, and Caroline spied Sian’s blue-and-black arrangement among them. She was dancing with a laughing Roscoe at present—before pulling him in for an impassioned kiss.

A pang of envy hit her as she watched. How liberating it must be to be hit with the urge to kiss the man you loved and be able to simply take it .

Fanning herself, her eyes shifted over to where David stood, the only man she hadn’t danced with tonight. Two young women animatedly chatted with him, and Caroline was close enough to hear them dropping hints about wanting to dance with him.

She couldn’t blame them. The suit he wore outlined every inch of his muscular form, and though she’d danced with a host of other men this evening, only one caught her eye—and kept it.

Especially after her dream from last night. The dream that seized her in the early hours of the morning and brought her back to consciousness, just as ecstasy was about to explode within her. The dream that had left her needy and aching and desperate for a release she could never achieve.

Not without a man.

Biting her lip, Caroline pulled the image of David touching himself to the front of her mind. Sometimes she was so envious of men she wanted to scream. How was it fair that they could give themselves pleasure but women could not?

Her silent revenge had been to wear the lingerie set that David had been most focused on that day in the lingerie shop.

He wouldn’t see it, but she’d know it was there .

And in her desperate, unfulfilled mind, somehow that made her feel better.

“I would love to visit England and see your castle,” one of the women talking to David declared—Birdie, if Caroline remembered her name correctly from the introductions. Birdie’s headband was more demure than her friend’s enormous peacock feather. Instead of a garishly large feather, a beaded rose sat just above her temple.

“I agree.” Her peacock-feathered friend nodded. “You’re so lucky to live in a place with so much history.”

To David’s credit, he didn’t wince at Birdie’s faux pas . “I am. Wales is a country with a rich history, and I feel very blessed to be part of it.”

Before Caroline could eavesdrop in on the women’s replies, someone plopped into the chair opposite her and blocked her view. Blinking to refocus her gaze, it took her a second to recognise her new companion.

Della, the endlessly confident woman from the Berengaria , whose departing words echoed in Caroline’s mind.

“I think if you gave him a chance to crawl beneath your skirts, he’d never leave.”

“Well, fancy seeing you here!” Della’s voluptuous figure filled the seat as she lounged backwards, her sequinned midnight black dress catching the light of the thousands of string lights above them.

“Della!” Caroline’s voice was a splutter. “What are you doing here?”

On Della’s head rested not a typical feather headband, but a cap made entirely out of a black beaded arrangement that rattled with every movement. The beads across the back of her head draped down to her shoulders, but the front was mercifully cut into a beaded fringe sitting above her eyes. “I was invited,” she scoffed, resting a hand above her ample bosom. “I don’t make a habit of gatecrashing.”

Was that an American term? “What does gatecrashing mean?”

“To sneak into an event without an invitation.” Della’s lips quirked, her lipstick turning them into a glossy burgundy. “Has that not made its way across the Atlantic yet? ”

“Yes to the practice, no to the terminology.” She shifted, side-eyeing her way past her new companion. Dammit. Those women were still talking to David.

Apparently she wasn’t subtle enough. Della gracefully mimicked her movements before giving Caroline a pitying glance. “You didn’t take my advice then?”

“It’s not mine to take,” she said simply, pushing up her headband, feeling the pink-and-green feathers moving atop her head. The reminder of her situation soured the party’s jovial atmosphere. Married to a husband who wouldn’t divorce her. A husband that would lie about their consummation to keep her matrimonial shackles tight.

Caroline couldn’t believe she had ever found Harry attractive.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Perhaps sensing her mood change, Della changed subjects with a gentle smile. “Well, either way, I’m surprised to still see you in this neck of the woods. How have you found New York?”

“It’s actually our final night. Tomorrow we’re back on the Berengaria. ” Caroline was rather dreading the journey, courtesy of the close quarters her and David would be staying in. “But New York has been wonderful.” A never-ending metropolitan sprawl that she could spend her life exploring.

Truth be told, though, she would be rather glad of some peace and quiet at the end of it.

New York was wonderful—in short bursts. She longed to sit in Castell Du'r Arddu’s music room with David, listening to the gulls flying overhead and the waves crashing against the cliffs. Sorrow weighed down the heavy longing in her heart as she thought of the time she and David had spent together in the castle.

The depth of her feelings was never more clear than in that moment.

She loved him .

She may have loved the idea of Harry, but she loved the reality of David. The time they had spent together, the memories they had made, the laughter they had shared, the bond they had developed.

And with that love came the kind of longing of which she had been ignorant before she met him.

The same feminine longing that she had concealed all day, even as it clawed at her insides. Emmeline had told her much about marital relations, but she’d failed to mention just how consuming the urges could be.

But Della was happy to distract her with chatter of all the places in New York Caroline simply had to visit on her next trip. Not that she was sure there was going to be a next trip. She’d been thinking more and more about Emmeline and her family these days. How was little Vincent doing? And the twins, Dougie and William. They would be turning four in a couple of weeks. How was Effie getting on in her first year at Oxford? Annabelle and Kit’s son Ramsay would be celebrating his first birthday next month. Would they throw him a party?

Homesickness squeezed her chest. A month in New York was enough to make her long for the sight of English shores, but it had been almost five months since she’d seen hide nor hair of her family.

She missed them desperately.

Della and Caroline were allowed but an hour of conversation before being pulled back onto the dance floor—the former by her husband Amos and the latter by one of Roscoe’s many nephews. One of the identical twins. Caroline had danced with one of the twins earlier in the evening, but she felt it would be rude to ask him which one he was.

After Roscoe’s nephew lured her back onto the dance floor, her dance partners blitzed by faster than she could name them—until, at last, the band played their last song, and the partygoers began to disperse into the night.

At which point she finally gave up any hope of David asking her to dance and accepted defeat.

At last, Caroline slowly made her way upstairs to bed, wincing at the soreness in her feet. She’d made the foolish decision to wear one of her newer pairs of heels for the party, opting for style over comfort. With a sigh of relief, she finally turned off the wide wooden staircase and headed for her bedroom—the Glynd?r.

Thank goodness David had taught her how to pronounce that. Glin-door. Or doer , if one was to shove the two syllables into one.

By contrast, David’s bedroom door was closed. Had he already gone to bed then? The last time she’d seen him during the party had been when she was talking to Della.

When he was talking to those two women.

What if he took one of them to bed? her mother’s voice whispered.

An ugly grimace twisted her expression as a hive of jealousy erupted in her gut. Before she could do something stupid, Caroline strode into the Glynd?r and closed the door behind her.

Her shoes were the first thing to come off, revealing twin bloodstains on both of her heels. Wetting a flannel in the en suite, she dabbed at them, hissing in pain all the while. Her coiffure was the next thing to come down. The absence of its weight on her crown came as a relief, and suddenly she was desperate to change into her nightgown and slip between the covers.

It was only then that the flaw in her plan arose.

Stepping in front of the mirror, she angled her body to see the rear of her dress, still bathing in the relief of her hair being pulled down into its natural state by gravity. The smooth, pastel pink satin caught the light as she turned. The hemline of the front of the dress ended mid-thigh, but the back descended past it in a wide, ruffled tail that exaggerated her curves.

She loved the outline it gave her figure—particularly as the dress was strapless, courtesy of its corset.

Twisting her hands to attempt to undo the corset herself, she could do little more than scrabble at the green ribbons before admitting defeat.

Earlier in the evening, Sian’s maid—Helena—had helped her to get into the dress. Caroline had simply overlooked the fact that she’d need help to get out of it too.

Would Helena even be awake at this time in the morning?

The Glynd?r, like all of the rooms in Sian’s home, had a button to press if they were ever in need of assistance, but Caroline didn’t like to press it at three o’clock in the morning. At Scarlett Castle, the only person on duty at that hour would be a hall boy.

Caroline wasn’t going to ask a hall boy to come in and help undo her corset.

Sian had still been awake, hadn’t she?

Hoping to catch her before she went to bed, Caroline padded barefoot across the oak floorboards of her bedroom and out onto the landing. Halfway to the stairs, a voice stopped her in her tracks.

“Starling?”

With a long, painful exhale, she turned. Through the open bedroom door, she locked eyes with David. He stood next to the open window in the far corner of the room, in front of a pair of bergère armchairs wrapped in damask. He held a small glass of a pale amber drink, the ice cubes tinkling within as he set it down on the windowsill.

“Is something wrong?” he continued, coming closer. His first three buttons were undone, revealing hints of the chest hair she never thought she’d see again .

The bed, she noticed, was still made, with nothing on its smooth surface but the tie he’d been wearing that evening haphazardly thrown across it.

Relief loosened her chest to the point it almost sagged. “You’re alone.” He hadn’t brought a woman up here.

David’s brow prickled at that, pulling into a frown. “Why wouldn’t I be alone?”

“It doesn’t matter,” she assured him, continuing towards the staircase. Ignore her jealous, sleep-deprived ramblings. “I just need Sian’s assistance, that’s all.”

His footsteps echoed hers. “What’s wrong? Can I help?”

A better woman would have said no. But she had been awake for nigh on twenty-four hours; for half of them she’d been needy and touch-starved, and the other she’d been melancholy and jealous. Caroline stopped, gesturing to her dress. “There’s a corset at the back of this gown. I can’t undo it myself.”

Was that desire that flared in his eyes, or just her wishful thinking? Residual music still flowed from downstairs—from a gramophone, she presumed, seeing as the band had left. He nodded; his voice soft. “I’ll do it for you.”

“Not here. In the bedroom.” Caroline led him into the Glynd?r, closing the door behind them and coming to stand in front of the mirror. “Ignore the bow at the bottom. It’s made out of the same ribbon, but it’s not part of the corset. It’s just for show. The actual ties to the corset are tucked underneath it.”

In the mirror, she could see him take up residence behind her, his eyes darting across the dress before he began to work on the corset. “It’s been some time since I’ve…” He cut himself off.

The ghost of his touch was detectable through the fabric, unlacing the ribbon eyelet by eyelet. “Since you’ve undressed a woman. ”

David huffed out a noise of acknowledgement, prickling the hairs on the back of her neck.

“So it’s safe to say you don’t have a revolving door of women in and out of Castell Du'r Arddu?”

“You know I don’t.”

She threw a playful smile into the mirror. “You could have been smuggling them in and out whilst I was asleep.”

His eyebrow quirked humorously. “Do you think me so beastly that I would cast a woman out into the night once I was done with her?”

Affection warmed her chest, travelling through her body like smoke and infusing her every pore until she was sure it would burst from her. “No,” she assured him quietly. “You would be the perfect gentleman, as you always are.”

When his face filled with guilt, she could almost hear his answering thought. Not always .

It wasn’t hard to guess precisely what he was feeling guilty about.

Us.

She turned on her heel, preferring to face him head-on rather than his reflection. The bottom three-quarters of the corset had been loosened, but what was left allowed it to remain around her breasts. “Neither of us expected this, David.” Greatly daring, she raised her hand to his face, feeling the comforting rasp of his stubble against her palm. “We’re not at fault for feelings beyond our control.”

He closed his eyes, even as his jaw clenched. “I should leave.”

And yet his only movement was the tension that bristled in his shoulders.

David’s eyes opened to reveal a furnace glowing from within, dripping with hunger. “I should have the decency to leave you well enough alone. ”

“Leaving me alone would be naught but the basest of cruelties,” she whispered.

Caroline didn’t know who moved first—her or him. The only thing she knew was that they bridged the gap, their lips colliding in a frenzy of lust and need. His skin was blazing hot beneath her fingers, but his tongue burned even hotter, until it was all she could do not to ignite alongside him.

Wrapping his arm around her waist, David pulled her against him. Caroline gasped at the exquisite rightness of how this felt, of having his broad, muscular body against hers. She breathed in his deliciously masculine scent and tasted the barest hint of whisky on his tongue.

She couldn’t stop moving, letting her hands roam over his body, indulging all of the desires she’d denied for far too long. Instincts had her scrambling at the rest of his shirt buttons, fully unveiling the broad chest beneath.

Panting with exertion and desire both, she felt him wrenching the ribbons of the corset through the eyelets. Each one had her dress getting looser and looser, until it was loose enough for her to shove down, leaving her dressed in the black silk-and-lace lingerie set she’d worn as revenge.

“Fuck.” The growl ripped from his chest as he stepped back. “You’re wearing the— fuck. ”

Caroline bit her lip, her confidence teetering on a knife’s edge. The set comprised a scandalous brassiere and an even more scandalous pair of French knickers so short they left little to the imagination. Had it not been for David’s reaction to it in the shop that day, she wouldn’t have even considered purchasing something like this. She preferred chemises, enjoying the concealment they offered her. This lingerie set was for fearless women who luxuriated in their sexuality. “Do you like it? ”

He rested his forehead against hers, closing his eyes with a heavy sigh. “I liked it in the shop, but on you…it’s a revelation.”

She tried not to preen beneath his praise.

“Unfortunately for you, I’m not wearing anything so splendid.”

Her mouth tugged into a smirk. “Did you decide against wearing your best lingerie set this evening?”

The laugh that escaped his lips warmed her even further. “I’m afraid I did. It looked terribly uncomfortable, and Sian’s cocktail parties always run into the early hours.”

“You could have warned me,” she scolded him, realising he was guiding her backwards—towards the bed. Her heart began to beat with the ferocity of war drums, thrumming through her with every pulse. Cocktail parties were few and far between at Scarlett Castle, and not a thing at all in her childhood home of Holyhead. The few she’d attended had all had specified end times, but Sian’s revelries hadn’t yet finished, even as morning crept towards them. “I wore new shoes. My feet were ready to throw in the towel after my eighth dance.”

A hint of possessiveness rippled through him as her calves hit the side of the bed. “You danced with so many men tonight.”

“I did,” she said defiantly, gasping when his lips brushed her neck. Her eyes closed at the pleasure, the simultaneous rasp of his stubble and hot slide of his kiss against her skin. And kissing was just the start of it, according to Emmeline. If kissing was this enjoyable, she could scarcely imagine the rest of it. “Yet the only man I was waiting for didn’t ask me.”

Waited and waited, until she’d finally accepted defeat and retreated to the Glynd?r.

Caroline allowed herself to be lowered to the bed, marvelling at the easy strength he possessed—and the way he felt as he settled over her body, pushing her further into the mattress’s embrace. “I’m asking you now,” he murmured, his lips never far from her skin. “Is this what you really want?”

The only reason she was still married was because Harry wouldn’t divorce her. Their marriage was not a consensual union. If it was up to her, she’d have divorced him the morning after they wed.

If this was as close to happiness as she would ever get, then she’d take it.

She lifted her lips up to his. It was a caress at first, but the first brush of his tongue sent a blaze of arousal beneath her navel. Her arms came up around his head until she could weave her fingers into his hair, revelling in finally being able to give in to her desires.

The heat of his kiss left her lips as he trailed it down her neck, the wet evidence of his tongue outlining his path. A sigh hissed from her as she basked in the sensation, but her eyes flew open when she felt him unhooking the strap of her brassiere.

In the time it took for her to glance down, David had closed his lips over her bared nipple and sucked.

The sudden pleasure slammed her eyes shut, even as her fingers tightened in his hair. And when his free hand played with her other nipple, plucking and tugging in response to her moans?

Emmeline’s explanations hadn’t done the pleasure justice, damn her .

“David!” she moaned, wondering how she had been this ignorant of her own body. She shuddered and shivered and panted, her entire existence being reduced to his touch. Need thrummed through her like electricity, building higher and higher until she was sure the air around them crackled.

Just when she thought it would break, David receded. His grin was a picture of roguish, masculine pride as he kissed a path down her stomach .

A thread of self-consciousness invaded at that, and she was so worried about what he’d think of her tummy, she almost didn’t realise where he was headed.

Caroline tried to snap her legs closed, but all she succeeded in doing was wrapping them around his torso. “David.”

Emmeline had spoken of this particular act . Caroline had been embarrassed then, and she was embarrassed now. Embarrassed…but endlessly, endlessly curious.

His fingers hooked into her dainty underwear, but he paused before pulling them down entirely. When she didn’t voice any opposition, he resumed, eking out the movement into a full-on unveiling, where she had to bite back her mother’s nagging abuse and listen to the man in front of her.

Something halfway between a snarl and a growl escaped David’s lips when he beheld her, stretching out a hand on each of her inner thighs and pushing them even wider, giving her no shadows to hide behind.

Her breaths became frantic, waiting for his reaction, waiting for what he was going to say . Was she normal down there ? Was there something wrong with he—?

David lay his tongue against her core in a leisurely, savouring lick, groaning his approval.

All of the tension holding her up disintegrated. Caroline’s head fell back against the bed, but she barely had a moment to absorb the sensation of his tongue before it moved, swirling around her clitoris in prolonged, lingering circles.

“ David ,” Caroline choked out. This was a dream. This had to be a dream. Mustering her courage, she raised up on her elbows to watch him, unprepared for the unrestrained lust in his gaze as he worked .

He dived down to her entrance, penetrating her with his tongue as though he couldn’t get enough of her taste. “Is this all for me, Starling?” he asked.

She nodded, crying out when he fastened his lips around her clitoris and began to suck. “All yours. All yours. All yours.” Her words were a trembling vow as bliss flowed through her, building and building until Caroline was sure its waves would roll her out flat.

Her hips began to twitch, little tremors of disquiet that she couldn’t stop. Her dream from last night seemed so close she could reach out and touch it. Caroline had always been in charge of her emotions, but this was something else. This was an unknown.

Little moans escaped her. Her fingers clawed into his hair, holding on for dear life as David let loose his desires—as she learnt what it was like to be the recipient of them. Filthy and sordid and wonderful .

“ Oh god.” With quickening breaths, Caroline knew what was happening. Moans and cries and whimpers gushed from her as the release she’d coveted all day bore down on her mercilessly. It was too strong, but David wasn’t stopping. She panted his name, her hips moving in earnest, trying to reason with her arousal, to persuade it to go easy on her.

It didn’t.

A desperate moan tore through her as the wave of release flattened her. It seized control of her body, arching her spine and snapping her thighs closed around David’s head. In any other situation, Caroline would have been mortified at the undignified, uncontrollable moans it squeezed from her, but there was no room in her head for self-consciousness or reticence.

Through it all, David kept up with her, amplifying her pleasure with his wicked tongue, as merciless as the release itself.

Just when she accepted that it would go on forever, the feeling faded. Caroline collapsed against the bed, panting with exhaustion and boneless with satisfaction. With the last of her strength, she opened her eyes to see David crawling up her body, his cheeks and lips wet with something that definitely wasn’t his own saliva.

He captured her lips, stroking a hand through her hair as she registered the subtle flavour on his tongue. Her release. Something she’d never expected to taste .

The wake of her orgasm had left her feeling vulnerable, as though she could be knocked off her feet with the slightest wind. But David held her steady, cupping her cheeks as he soothed her doubts. “You’re divorcing him,” he murmured.

She chuffed out a wistful noise. If only it was that easy.

“I’m serious, Caroline.” His thumb delicately skimmed across her cheekbone, despite the steel beneath his words. “You’re divorcing him.”

Her eyelids fluttered. “Believe me, I want nothing more. But women can’t ask for a divorce.”

“Of course they can.” David’s voice gentled, his touch still trailing over her. “There was a law that came in recently—I remember voting on it in the House of Lords.”

Energy shot through her like lightning. A divorce would mean freedom. A divorce would mean she had a future again. “How?”

“His infidelity.”

The memory of her disastrous wedding night came to the forefront of her mind, usually bringing with it a dull, resigned reminder of her utter naivety—but tonight it filled her with hope. “You’ll help me?”

A bark of laughter sounded across the Glynd?r. “Can you doubt that after this evening?”

Her smile was bright enough to power New York. She would be free. “You ignored me all evening, David. Technically, it’s morning now. ”

He nipped her jawline. “I watched you all evening like a starving hound, holding back because I knew if I got too close…”

This would happen , she silently finished for him, a small smile ghosting her face as she let her fingers play in her hair. Harry’s words rang out in her mind like the tolling of a bell. Do whatever you want; I didn’t marry you because I wanted you.

Caroline didn’t voice the fact that it had been Harry who told her women couldn’t ask for a divorce. Presumably banking on her naivety, assuming she would just accept his words as true.

She’d fallen right into his trap— again .

“I’m divorcing him,” she vowed, lifting her lips to David’s. She refused to feel guilty for her actions. Not after everything Harry had done. She wanted a future again. Wrapping her arms around David’s neck, she pulled him down until their bodies lay flush against each other. She widened her thighs, inviting him to sink between them. “I need you.”

“You have me,” David promised her, rolling his hips against hers and letting her feel his hardness for the first time.

She gasped, his length pressing against her sensitised clitoris. Was that entire thing supposed to go inside her? “Will it hurt?” she managed to whisper, her eyes closing at the delicious friction.

He lifted his lips from her neck. “Why would it hurt? I’m not a barbarian.”

“Isn’t the first time always supposed to hurt?”

A muscle twitched in his brow. His eyes darted between hers, as though searching for something. “The first ti—?”

The sound of footsteps drifted through her bedroom door. The thin, rhythmic clicking of someone wearing high heels.

Someone was coming upstairs—and turning off onto the landing outside their bedrooms.

David lifted himself off her, holding a single finger in front of his lips .

She nodded, snatching her new silk negligee from the end of her bed just as a sharp knock sounded on her door. “ Go into the bathroom, ” she mouthed to David, ensuring he was properly concealed before opening the door.

Sian stood there, the makeup at the corner of her eyes slightly smudged after the night of partying. “Oh.” She blinked, giving Caroline’s negligee a double take. “I came to help you with your dress…” she trailed off.

Caroline tried not to blush. “I managed to get it off myself.” She let out a laugh that was so hideously fake her blush only deepened. “The party was wonderful.”

“One for the books. Make sure you get some sleep though,” Sian reminded her, stepping away and heading for the stairs. “You’ll need to be up early to catch the ship.”

Nodding, she closed the door as soon as Sian reached the staircase, descending back down to her bedroom on the floor below.

“She’s right,” David’s murmur was far closer than she expected it to be. His large hands settled around her waist as he kissed her temple. “You need to sleep.”

“I would rather be with you.”

“We’ll have eight days of nothing but each other’s company—and plenty to discuss.” His lips lowered to catch hers, soft and slow and comforting. A door closed on the floor below. Presumably Sian going into her and Roscoe’s bedroom.

That sounded ominous, but she merely nodded. If she didn’t ask the question, he wouldn’t give her the answer she feared.

Biting her lip, Caroline watched him silently open the door—summoning her courage and choosing to voice her thoughts at the last minute. “Do you regret it? ”

The early morning light pouring in from the landing windows outlined his features. He shook his head. “I could never regret you, Starling. Get some sleep.”