Chapter 19

Chapter Nineteen

" Y our Grace, you didn't have to defend me like that," Adeline said softly, breaking the tense silence that had settled over the carriage. "It will only serve to fuel the gossip."

Edmund's gray eyes met hers in the dim light, his expression unreadable. "I don't care about gossip, Duchess. No one should dare to speak to you in such a manner."

Adeline felt a flutter in her chest at his words, but she quickly tamped it down. She couldn't allow herself to read too much into his actions. This was, after all, a marriage of convenience.

"You only care because I'm your wife," she replied, unable to keep a hint of bitterness from her voice. "It reflects poorly on you if I'm insulted."

Edmund's jaw tightened, a hint of something dangerous flickering in his eyes. "Is that what you think?" he asked, his voice low and intense.

Adeline lifted her chin defiantly, even as her heart raced. "It's the truth, isn't it? We both know this marriage is merely an arrangement. You needn't pretend otherwise."

In the blink of an eye, Edmund was beside her on the bench, so close that she could feel the heat radiating from his body.

Adeline found herself pressed back against the carriage wall, her breath catching in her throat.

"You are mine," Edmund growled, his face mere inches from hers. "And no one should insult what is mine."

Before Adeline could process his words, his lips crashed down on hers. This kiss was nothing like the one in Lady Alderton's stables. While that had been tentative and exploratory, this one was fierce and demanding.

Adeline gasped, giving Edmund the opportunity to deepen the kiss. His hand tangled in her hair, tilting her head back as he plundered her mouth.

All thoughts of propriety fled her mind as she melted into his embrace, her hands clutching at the lapels of his coat.

Edmund's other hand skimmed down her side, coming to rest on her hip. He pulled her closer, practically lifting her onto his lap. Adeline could feel the hard planes of his chest against her, the heat of him seeping through the layers of their clothing.

"Edmund," she breathed as he trailed hot kisses along her jaw and down her neck.

She felt rather than heard his growl of approval at the use of his given name.

"Say my name again," he demanded with that same growl, sending shivers down her spine.

"Edmund," she breathed, unable to control herself when he spoke to her that way.

"Good girl," he responded as his hand slid up her side, brushing against the side of her breast.

Even through her gown and corset, his touch sent shivers of pleasure coursing through her. Adeline arched into him, a soft moan escaping her lips.

Edmund's kisses grew more insistent, his hands more exploratory. Adeline felt as though she were drowning in sensation, every touch, every caress igniting a fire within her she'd never known existed.

She grew bolder and grasped his bottom lip between her teeth. Her tongue tangled with his, causing a wave of heat to course through her. She twined her fingers in the small hairs at the nape of his neck and arched against him.

His lips traced a path along her scarred cheek, but she didn't pull away. Then he nibbled on her earlobe, his breath hot against her skin.

His hand pulled down the top of her dress, exposing a breast. Before she could utter a protest, his mouth captured her nipple, his tongue swirling around it. Pleasure cascaded through her. She closed her eyes and gripped his shoulders, surrendering to his touch.

With a groan, he shifted, and his hands slid down her hips to the hem of her gown. In one swift move, he lifted it, exposing her thighs to his hungry gaze.

"Mmm. So wet for me," he said, licking his lips.

"What are you—oh!" she gasped as he slid down between her legs, his tongue parting her folds. Until it landed on the hard nub nestled between them.

She let out a small cry as he flicked his tongue against the center of her pleasure.

"What…" she breathed, shocked by the intensity of the sensation.

His tongue, skilled and eager, explored her folds, gliding over her sensitive skin. The sound of her soft moans, mingled with the rhythmic movement of his tongue, created a symphony of pleasure.

"Yes, moan for me, darling," Edmund said between licks. "I want to hear how utterly lost you are in pleasure."

Her eyes rolled to the back of her head upon hearing his words. How did he know exactly what to say?

Her legs began to shake, her whole body tensing up thanks to the passionate rhythm of his touch. He was pushing her higher and higher to a peak she had never climbed before. A peak from which she was about to plummet.

"Edmund, I-I… It's too much," she whimpered.

"Just let go, darling. I've got you," he whispered and swiftly continued his ministrations.

And the moment he spoke those words, her body came undone, as if completely under his command. She cried out as a surge of cataclysmic pleasure coursed through her, making her toes curl in her slippers.

Her eyes fluttered open—she hadn't even realized that she'd closed them—and she faced Edmund, who was kissing the inside of her thighs with a dark satisfaction glimmering in his eyes.

"That's my good girl," he told her and sat up to claim her lips again, giving her a taste of herself, of the otherworldly bliss she'd just experienced.

When he pulled away, he began fumbling with the fastenings of his breeches.

Adeline glanced down and saw something long and hard pressing against the fabric. In her years of spinsterhood, she'd read about men's intimate parts, and this… this was evidence of his arousal.

She wondered if she could pleasure him as he had her by touching him. Or even taking him in her mouth…

As he unfastened the button, the carriage jolted to a stop. It groaned at the sudden motion, its wooden frame creaking in protest. Dust particles danced in the moonlight that streamed through the window.

Edmund sat back in his seat, breathing heavily. Adeline's heart pounded in her chest, the adrenaline rushing through her veins as she quickly smoothed her skirts and straightened her bodice.

Reality came crashing back as she realized that they had arrived at Holbrook Manor. She stared at Edmund, taking in his disheveled appearance—his cravat askew, his hair mussed where she had run her fingers through it. She could only imagine how she must look.

Edmund seemed to come back to himself all at once. His eyes widened slightly, as if he were shocked by his actions. Without a word, he straightened his clothing and opened the carriage door.

He helped Adeline down, his touch cold once more. "Goodnight, Duchess," he said stiffly, before turning on his heel and striding towards the manor.

Adeline watched him go, her lips still tingling from his kisses, her body humming with unfulfilled desire. She touched her fingers to her mouth, scarcely able to believe what had just transpired.

As she made her way to her chambers, her mind whirled.

What had just happened? And more importantly, what did it mean for their marriage?

One thing was certain—whatever game they were playing, the rules had just changed dramatically.

And Adeline was no longer sure she knew how to play.

Edmund strode into his study, his body still thrumming with the heat from Adeline's touch. He ran a hand through his disheveled hair, cursing under his breath.

"Thornley," he called, and within moments his ever-present butler appeared at the door. "Bring me a bottle of brandy and a glass."

As Thornley silently complied, Edmund paced the length of the room, his mind a maelstrom of conflicting emotions. What had he been thinking, kissing Adeline like that? Touching her with such unbridled passion? It was madness, pure and simple.

The brandy arrived, and Edmund poured himself a generous splash. He downed half of it in one swallow, welcoming the burn as it coursed down his throat. He moved to the window, staring out at the moonlit grounds of Holbrook without really seeing them.

It had been a mistake, he told himself firmly. A moment of weakness, nothing more. He couldn't allow himself to be drawn in by Adeline's warmth, her quiet strength, the alluring softness of her lips…

He shook his head, banishing the traitorous thoughts. He knew all too well the dangers of allowing himself to feel, to hope.

The memory of Joanna's betrayal flashed through his mind, and with it came a familiar ache of disillusionment.

He had been so young then, barely twenty and flush with the arrogance of youth. Joanna had been a dazzling figure in Society, beautiful and charming, with a wit that could cut as sharply as it could delight. When she had turned her attention to him, he had been utterly captivated.

How foolish he had been, how na?ve. Even now, thirteen years later, the memory of walking into his father's study and finding Joanna in his arms made his stomach churn.

Edmund drained the rest of his brandy, welcoming the numbing effect of alcohol. He had fled then, unable to bear the sight of either of them. The army had offered an escape, a chance to prove himself as something more than just the son of a dissolute duke.

The war had changed him, hardened him in ways he was still discovering. He had seen friends die, had taken lives himself, had witnessed horrors that still haunted his dreams. But it had also taught him valuable lessons about trust, about the importance of keeping one's heart guarded.

And yet, tonight in the carriage with Adeline…

Edmund growled in frustration, pouring himself another brandy. He couldn't allow himself to be weak again. Adeline might not be Joanna, but that didn't mean she couldn't hurt him just as deeply if he let her in.

His mind drifted to the dinner party, to the sight of Joanna in her crimson gown. She was still beautiful, still capable of turning heads and breaking hearts. But now he could see the calculation behind her charm, the desperation lurking in her eyes.

He had heard the rumors, of course. How she had married old Lord Strathmore after her dalliance with his father, how she was now a widow struggling to maintain her standing in Society. A part of him, the part that still smarted from her betrayal, felt grim satisfaction at her reduced circumstances.

Edmund moved to his desk, opening a drawer and retrieving a small, ornate box. Inside lay a collection of letters, their paper yellowed with age, the ink faded but still legible. They were Joanna's letters, full of passionate declarations and promises of eternal love.

He had kept them all these years, not out of sentimentality, but as a reminder of his folly. Now, looking at them, he felt nothing but a dull ache, an echo of past pain.

With a sudden, decisive movement, he gathered the letters and tossed them into the fireplace. He watched as the flames consumed them, turning Joanna's flowery words to ash.

It was time to let go of the past, he realized. Time to stop allowing Joanna's betrayal to dictate his actions, to shape his future.

But what did that mean for his relationship with Adeline?

Edmund closed his eyes, remembering the softness of her skin, the warmth of her breath, the way she had melted into his embrace. She wasn't Joanna—she was something altogether different, something both terrifying and exhilarating.

Could he trust her? Could he allow himself to feel for her, to hope for something more than just a marriage of convenience?

The thought sent a shiver of fear through him, but also a spark of something else. Something that felt dangerously like hope.

Edmund shook his head, downing the last of his brandy. He was in no state to make such momentous decisions tonight. Tomorrow, he would go hunting. The physical exertion, the focus required to track and bring down his quarry, would help clear his mind.

Because, heavens , he needed some clarity.