Chapter 19

Being placed on the table, with everything else pushed aside, was the last thing Penelope expected. Plates and glasses clinked all around them as they fell to the ground. But that was the least of her concerns. All she could focus on were James' lips on hers, demanding everything of her.

Her heart gave a little thump as he pulled away, staring at her with those wild eyes, grinning at her. Slowly, without breaking his gaze, she noticed he was using his fingers to grab the hem of her gown, pulling it upward.

"James…" she whispered, her cheeks flaring up. Her insides were already throbbing from their kiss. Now, she was at his mercy, waiting to see what he would do.

"Shhh," she heard him say. "Let me pleasure you…"

Her gown pooled around her waist as his knowing touch moved it higher, revealing her thighs and even more embarrassingly, the place between her legs. With his eyes fixed intently on her, she felt a rush of wetness between her thighs, but instead of clamping her thighs together, she relaxed them, as if her own body knew what it needed to do.

His head dipped to hers, and his tongue licked her upper lip, sending thunder bolts of longing through her body. His other hand was caressing her inner thigh, parting her legs even more. She had never sat like this, with air kissing her most intimate flesh in such a carefree manner. Yet, nothing about it felt wrong. How could it when he was gazing at her as if she were the most beautiful thing in the world?

She couldn't resist moaning softly as his hand traversed higher and higher. The trail his fingers left on her skin felt like a trail of burning fire when suddenly, he lowered himself onto his knees before her. Her eyes widened in shock.

"James, you… you don't mean to…" But she didn't have the courage to end her question.

Instead of a response, he looked up at her and grinned. His gaze made her frantic. It made her yearn for his lips and touch more than ever. His head disappeared between her thighs, his tongue gently flicking over her flesh.

"Oh…" she moaned louder, not caring that they were in the dining hall, and anyone might enter at any moment. That fear vanished from her mind. Nothing existed in her thoughts apart from the pleasure that James was giving her.

He licked her softly, slowly, savoring her like a most delectable dessert. The pulses of his tongue were wickedly sinful, perfectly teasing her into more passion. She had no idea that such pleasure was even possible. Heat unfurled from somewhere deep inside of her as he continued licking that deliriously delicate place no one else had touched before him.

His tongue continued to flick faster and faster, his lips sucking her, drawing more pleasure out of her. She closed her eyes for a moment, and all she could hear were the wet sounds his tongue was making against her sensitive flesh. She gave herself up to him completely, grabbing a fistful of his hair, keeping him in place, almost as if he might move before he was allowed to. She surrendered to him and the wild bliss that overtook her, yearning for more.

Inside the confines of her closed eyes, she lost control. It was too much to handle. An explosion of heat raged through her entire body as a million tiny little stars peppered the inside of her mind. Her heart was beating faster and faster, her body tensing, her breath ragged. Nothing could have prepared her for what she was feeling at that moment. A tidal wave of ecstasy crashed against her, taking over every inch of her consciousness, and all she could do was give in to the sensation which came and went in more waves.

When she opened her eyes, James was still on his knees before her, gently kissing the inside of her thighs. She couldn't find the words to say anything. She was still trembling, her body and mind still burning as if she had a million fireflies inside her, lighting up the way.

"I think I would very much like that as my dessert every evening." He grinned at her in a way that made her laugh melodiously.

Gently, he got up and lowered her skirt. Apart from a slight blush that lingered on her cheeks, there was nothing that could have revealed the intimate moment they just shared. She looked around at the food and dishes on the floor.

"Goodness," she exclaimed, feeling a little bad. "What will the servants think?"

He shrugged. "What could they think? They all know we have a clumsy master."

He helped her sit back into her chair although sitting was difficult. Her entire body was still trembling from the aftermath of that deliriously intoxicating moment. She watched him walk over to a long rope in the corner and tug on it twice.

"I think I am in the mood for some ice cream," he said mischievously. "All that heat on my tongue needs some balance now."

"Oh," she blushed at his words, realizing that he meant it as a compliment.

"I love your heat, Penelope," he whispered, and at that moment, a knock on the door interrupted them.

The servants were given instructions to clean up and bring forth some ice cream. No questions were asked. Not that Penelope expected any questions. However, she knew that what they did was naughty, and it filled her with thrilling sensations beyond anything she had ever felt before.

He sat down at the table, staring at her with that same grin while the servants were setting up new plates. She knew what he meant about that heat. Not even a full bowl of chocolate flavored treat was enough to extinguish the fire that was still burning inside of her. In fact, she doubted anything had the power to do so.

* * *

The following morning, Penelope's eyes fluttered open to the soft rays of morning sunlight filtering through the delicate lace curtains of her bed chamber. As she stirred from sleep, her mind conjured up memories of the previous evening and their little adventure in the dining hall. Before she allowed herself to become overwhelmed with desire again, she opened her eyes, and her sleepy gaze was drawn to the sight of a beautiful bouquet of fresh flowers sitting on her bedside table, their vibrant colors illuminated by the gentle light.

With a smile of delight, Penelope rose from her bed and made her way over to the bouquet, her heart swelling with warmth at the sight of the fragrant blooms. She reached out to gently caress the petals, breathing in their sweet, intoxicating scent with a sense of pure contentment. They had to be from James. It was a simple gesture but one that awakened so much tenderness inside of her.

Then, suddenly, a knock on the door brought her back to the present moment. Charlotte's cheerful face peered from behind it the moment Penelope invited her in.

"Good morning, Your Grace," Charlotte greeted, her voice soft and soothing as she moved about the room, tending to her mistress' needs.

"Good morning, Lottie," Penelope replied with a smile, turning to face her trusted maid. "Did you put these lovely flowers here on behalf of my husband?"

"Oh, no, no," Charlotte shook her head. "I did no such thing."

Penelope's brow furrowed. "But then…"

"His Grace did it all on his own," Charlotte revealed, much to Penelope's delight. "I saw him from one of the hallway windows early this morning; he was picking flowers from the garden."

"James was picking flowers?" Penelope gasped.

"A thoughtful gift from His Grace," Charlotte observed as she approached the bouquet herself, her fingers brushing gently against the petals.

Penelope returned the smile. "What a lovely way to start my day."

"Indeed," Charlotte nodded, walking over to the large armoire and opening it. Her eyes searched through the assembly of gowns, one more beautiful than the next. "Madam, I believe today calls for something truly special."

Penelope's curiosity was immediately piqued. "Oh? And why is that, Lottie?" she inquired, amused by the hint of mystery in the air.

Charlotte smiled knowingly, her hands moving deftly as she selected a gown from the wardrobe. "His Grace mentioned a surprise for you, Your Grace," she explained, her voice laden with excitement. "I thought it only fitting that you should be dressed in something… well, a little more special than every-day clothes."

Charlotte proceeded to bring over the gown she had selected. It possessed a fitted bodice made of luxurious silk satin in a delicate shade of pale rose.

"It will gently accentuate your slim figure, Your Grace," Charlotte pointed out.

Penelope smiled as she took in the sight of the beautiful gown. The neckline was modest, yet elegant, adorned with intricate lace trim. The sleeves were sheer, crafted from fine chiffon and gathered at the shoulders with delicate, pink ribbons. They tapered down to the wrists where they were finished with small lace cuffs, adding a touch of femininity to the entire ensemble.

The waistline was cinched with a wide sash made of matching silk, tied in a lavish bow at the back. The skirt would easily cascade down in graceful folds, made of layers upon layers of soft tulle. Penelope looked down to where the hemline gracefully brushed the ground, trailing behind as one walked, adorned with intricate embroidery, depicting delicate floral motifs in shades of pink and green, reminiscent of the blooming gardens of spring.

"I… I have never seen such a beautiful gown," Penelope gasped. "That doesn't belong to me." She shook her head.

Charlotte laughed. "But madam, who else would it belong to?"

Penelope felt a surge of tenderness yet again, knowing whose doing it was. "Did James do this as well?"

"Of course," Charlotte nodded. "His Grace prepared everything for your arrival. He was overseeing every single detail of the preparation, and he handpicked the gowns himself."

"Goodness," Penelope gasped, pressing her hand to her chest.

She couldn't help but wonder why he would go through all that trouble. Not even her own family, who should love her more than anyone else in the entire world, had ever treated her in this manner. She wondered if this was what it felt like to be cherished, to be protected, and perhaps even, she dared to think, loved.

No, no, she quickly shook her head to herself. They barely knew each other. There was probably nothing deeper between them than mutual respect, and the duke was merely being gracious with his hosting. After all, he wanted her to give him an heir. Any man would do anything in their power to convince a woman to go to bed with him, especially if that certain man had such an important agenda.

Indeed, that made a whole lot of sense. However, Penelope still couldn't help but feel appreciated. After all, what was so wrong with that?

"Would that one be all right, then?" Charlotte inquired politely, bringing Penelope back to the present moment.

"Yes, yes, of course," Penelope nodded quickly. "That one would be perfect."

The two ladies proceeded to do their usual morning routine with Charlotte helping her out of her undergarments, carefully unfastening the buttons and ties with gentle hands. Then, she helped Penelope into the gown, assuring that every seam and fold fell just right. She adjusted Penelope's neckline, smoothing out any creases and tied the sash at the waist with a neat bow. With delicate movements, Charlotte helped Penelope into her sheer chiffon sleeves, making sure that they sat perfectly on her shoulders. She proceeded to fasten the tiny buttons at the cuffs, adding the finishing touches to the outfit.

"There," Charlotte said, taking a step back. "I do believe that His Grace will be mesmerized."

Penelope couldn't say anything. Not at that moment. All she could do was gaze at her reflection in the looking glass as a sense of awe washed over her. She saw herself transformed, not just into a woman of elegance but into a vision of royalty. The gown draped her figure with such grace and refinement that she felt as if she'd stepped out of a painting from a bygone era. Every detail was perfect. Every seam expertly crafted.

"I… I don't know what to say," she finally managed to murmur.

"You don't have to say anything," Charlotte chuckled. "Your charm speaks more than words ever could."

Penelope locked gazes with Charlotte. She couldn't believe that she had found such a good friend in such a short period of time and in the place where she expected to be not only alone but also lonely. The pathways of fate had a tendency to stray from the plan one made for themselves, but one thing was certain: fate always knew where one needed to end up.

"Well, I'd better go downstairs for breakfast." Penelope smiled, feeling like a fairy in her gown and wondering what other surprises the day would bring.