Chapter 22

CHAPTER 22

" Y ou should not be here, Miss."

Lavinia knew that. Of course she did. Her presence here would mean certain ruin. But she had to have this conversation tonight. It was now or never.

"I know."

"Wait here," the butler said, his face full of apparent disapproval and then he disappeared into the house, leaving her alone in the foyer with only a single candle lighting up the massive space.

She had only ever seen the Wyld house from a distance, but tonight she was inside the impressive building. Uninvited and in the middle of the night. Or was it the early hours of the morning? She wasn't sure.

Brisk footsteps sounded ahead and a short while later, the butler appeared again and said without any expression, "Please, follow me, Miss."

Together, they navigated the endless hallways, spiral staircase and then more hallways till they finally stopped in front of a door. The older man rapped on it, once, twice and then pulled away. In the blink of an eye, he had disappeared like a phantom.

The door creaked open and she caught sight of the Duke.

"Lavinia, what are you doing here? Come on in," he held the door open for her and she slipped in. The room was far larger than hers with a massive four poster bed against one side of the wall. The only source of light in the room was the silver moon light seeping in through the open window.

She could see him clearly. He was in a dressing gown that was fastened loosely about him, revealing his golden skin from neck to chest. She swallowed uneasily, unable to tear her eyes away from that exposed flesh.

"Lavinia?" he asked again. "Why are you here? How did you get here? Does anyone else know you're here?"

"I was careful and nobody saw me if that is what you are asking."

"You should not take such risks," he grabbed her by the shoulder. "I do not enjoy the thought of you running around so late where any brute and bounder can get their hands on you. You must never take such a risk again."

She nodded and then he stepped closer and pushed the hood of her cloak off her head.

"I had to speak to you," she told him.

His eyebrows furrowed, "about what? Is it so important that you risked your life in such a way?"

She rolled her eyes, "I had one of the footmen accompany me."

Then she pulled away from his hold because with his hands on her even in a touch as innocent as his hands on her shoulder, she couldn't think.

"I think we should end our arrangement."

He blinked at her for a moment and then his eyebrows climbed up his forehead. "Our arrangement? What do you mean by that?"

"Our engagement," she blurted out, gathering all her courage, "I came to tell you that our engagement is over."

He stepped closer to her and growled, "no, it is not. I do not agree to this."

She stomped her foot in annoyance. "Stop being so infuriating. I-I cannot do this. I thought I could, but I cannot."

He stepped even closer and that bare chest was suddenly in her face, his leather and spice scent filling her lungs. She had never wanted to lose her sense of smell so badly.

"What is going on, Lavinia?" Victor's voice was intimately low and she began to wonder if coming there had been a good idea. Perhaps she could have waited till he called on her to have this conversation.

"I am not the right fit for this. There are a dozen other girls that would make better duchesses than me. I-"

"You would make a perfect duchess."

"No, I will not."

He cupped her jaw. "How could you ever think that you would be anything less than absolutely perfect as my duchess? If that is your problem, then I hate to tell you that you have wasted your time coming here."

"Have I?" Her voice was shaky.

"Yes," he chuckled, a rumbly sound that settled southward and brought her alive in more ways than one. She shivered.

"Please, Victor. You must understand. I cannot be what you want me to be."

"I have only ever wanted you to be yourself."

She wanted to roar at him that he was a liar. He didn't want her love, which meant that he wanted her to become a different person. The sort of person that could swallow her feelings and forget they ever existed. The sort of person who didn't believe in love.

"N-no."

"Yes," he murmured into her ear. She was pressed into him now and the layers of cloth between them became insignificant.

Lavinia had never thought she was so pathetic and so weak, but here she was. She was supposed to be telling him that she was in love with him and that she couldn't be with him because she couldn't possibly marry a man who didn't love her.

"I need to say something," she tried, "something important."

"What is stopping you?"

He knew exactly what he was doing and the smile curving his mouth confirmed it.

"I cannot think when you are so close to me," she confessed, "I cannot marry you, Victor."

The man made a feral sound against the skin of her neck and buried his face into the junction between her neck and shoulders, "Say my name again. Say it."

"Victor," she gasped.

"Tell me why you cannot marry me," he commanded, "tell me."

"You will not touch me."

His hand settled on her hip, "I am touching you now."

Oh God. But he sure was, "yes, but there are other reasons why."

"What other reasons?"

How was she expected to remember when he was so close? With his hands on her hips and his breath fanning her skin?

"Please," she whispered, and those words shattered the remaining restraint between them. Lavinia didn't know who moved first but the next thing she knew, his mouth was on hers and she was being robbed of all breath. While simultaneously giving her his.

His mouth was hot on hers and she gasped at the first contact of mouth on mouth.

His tongue pressed insistently against the tight seams of her mouth and she readily opened for him, mewling when he deepened the kiss.

She clutched at him, trembling with the need to be possessed, so desperate for him that she couldn't have told you her own name.

He licked into her mouth, chasing her taste, unable to get enough of her addictive taste. She wrapped her arms around his neck and went up on her tiptoes, feeling something hard and insistent pressing against her stomach.

When he pulled away, she let out a sound of dismay, lips swollen and wet, eyes glassy with desire.

"Why did you stop?"

"I want to undress you, and then I want to look at you, worship you with my eyes."

"Victor."

"Do you know how long I've dreamed of this? Of having you here in my bedroom, completely at my mercy?" Even as he said the words, his hand was already reaching for her pinned up hair.

With excruciating slowness, he pulled out the pins from her hair, one after the other. Neither of them seemed to be breathing as he dug out each pin, and then finally her luscious brown hair fell down to her back in endless waves.

The Duke dragged his hand through her hair and then wrapped the length around his fists and tugged lightly.

A moan slipped out of her mouth unbidden and her lips parted. The way he looked at her should have been outlawed. It was a look of urgent hunger, a look that promised nothing good and yet everything good at the same time.

"Turn around," he whispered and without a second thought, she gave him her back.

His hand deftly began to undo the endless line of buttons on her back and in no time at all, he slipped the cap sleeves down her arms and the dress pooled to the ground. The Duke pushed her heavy hair over one shoulder and then dropped an open mouthed kiss against the exposed side of her neck.

Lavinia felt her eyes roll to the back of her head at the feel of his tongue peeking out to lap against her skin.

He undid her corset and it joined her dress on the floor too and then he spun her around to face him and his mouth brushed against hers. She couldn't take the torture anymore. There was a roaring furnace inside of her and she felt like she would soon combust and set the rest of the world on fire along with herself.

This time she was the one who deepened the kiss, who turned their careful exploration into an explosion.

The growl he let out informed her that the Duke didn't mind. His hands became urgent against her body, everywhere at once, touching and groping and clutching and soon, it wasn't nearly enough for him. He undid the lace tying the collar of her shift together and when it slid down, the fabric brushed over her pebbled nipples, making her gasp.

And then she was completely nude before him except for her stockings and shoes.

He pulled away to watch her and she pulled her shoulders back and thrust out her chest, feeling desirable and wanton as his dark eyes took her in. Every part that that molten gaze touched made her burn.

And then she watched him reach for the rope of his dressing gown and slip the material off his large shoulders.

"Oh," she stared unabashedly at his broad, hairy chest and the row of muscles that led down into his trousers.

She wasn't nearly ready when he stepped out of the trousers. The moonlight allowed her to see every inch of him. From his slender hips, to his muscled thighs to the thick length in between his legs.

"I want you, Lavinia. I want you like I have never wanted anything else in my life and I must have been out of my mind to think I would be able to keep my hands off you."

Lavinia didn't let the bout of sadness that his words caused to destroy the moment. It was too wonderful a moment to allow reality to intrude.

Wanting her was good, but it was not enough for her. She wanted the entirety of his affection and love and nothing else would do.

He reached for her and his mouth landed on the corner of her mouth, and then it slid down to the edge of her jaw. His large hands cupped her bottom and before she could feel shy about his hands on such an intimate part of her, he had lifted her into his arms and was carrying her across the room and into his bed.

He dropped her down into it carefully and he sat back on his heels between her legs to watch her.

"Please," she cried.

The Duke reached for her feet and slid off her slippers then tossed them over his shoulders. She felt over stimulated, achy on the inside and out and she wanted his hands, his mouth everywhere. His hot, large body covered hers and his mouth covered one nipple while his other one spread her legs further.

Of their own volition, her legs wrapped around his hip and arched up for something...

Something she couldn't name.

He caressed her skin while he sucked her breast deep into his mouth. She trashed against the bed, fingers racking into his hair and mussing it up.

He released her breast with an audible plop and moved to the other, fingers plucking at the other wet nipple. She arched off the bed, offering more of her to his willing mouth.

"I want to taste you so badly."

She didn't know what he meant but, "yes." She trusted him with her body even if she didn't trust him with her heart.

His mouth continued down, swirling against her belly button and nipping at the skin of her stomach before he buried his face in between her legs.

She gasped when his tongue lapped across her most private place and then she tried to pull him away, embarrassment turning her face a distinct red.

"W-what are you doing?"

He groaned, "you taste so good, darling. Allow me to worship you."

His tongue was like a brand of fire against her wet heat and when he pushed that velvety muscle inside her, she let out a cry of pleasure, legs trembling.

Victor pushed her thighs further apart and thrust one thick finger inside of her. Her hips shot off the bed, and his hand on her hip pressed her back into the bed, back into his mouth and hand and the impossibly wonderful fullness.

"Oh God. Oh God," she chanted as his finger began to move within her.

Another finger joined the first and she screamed his name. Pleasure curling inside of her faster and faster. She stood at the brink but something was missing.

"Victor. Victor please!" Tears slipped down the sides of her eyes like jewels standing against her skin.

"Not yet."

"Now!"

"You're so tight," he gritted out, "I will hurt you."

"You could never hurt me. I trust you." I love you . The words remained unspoken between them. If she ever let those words out of her mouth, he would pull away. He would stare at her like she had betrayed him, like she had tricked him into something.

"Lavinia, what you do to me."

He rose up fully on his knees and leaned over her, eyes filled with something that she could pretend was love.

Lavinia felt something blunt against her entrance and she sucked in a breath, waiting.

"I am sorry."

"Do not be," she whispered. She was the one who should be sorry.

And then he pushed into her.

"Argh!" She cried at the size of him. She wanted to tell him to stop, she wanted to shut her legs and push him away, but he wasn't done. He moved his hips back and then drove into her fully.

The tears that filled her eyes were no longer ones of immense pleasure. They were tears of pain as she felt the barrier inside of her give way. Blinding pain filled her, and she wondered why people enjoyed this. It was horrible. Truly horrible.

"Shh," he kissed down her face and then her mouth, his fingers stroking her. Soon she began to feel pleasure unfurl inside her again, till she was trembling with it again.

Her hips began to undulate, seeking friction. Little sparks of light shot behind her eyes, but it still wasn't enough.

"I need," she gasped, "I need."

"I will always take care of you. Always." He began to move inside her, drawing his hips back and forth and rolling them, gaining speed with each thrust till they were both moving in a mindless rhythm. She felt so full to bursting and every thrust wound her up tighter and tighter.

He was so deep in her that she didn't know where she stopped and he began.

They groaned and moaned and grunted. She clawed at his skin with her nails, aching for a release only he could give her.

His fingers stroked down her center, just above where they were joined and he touched something there that made her scream even louder, till her throat was hoarse.

"I..." she panted, "I want you. I want you." I love you. I love you.

"Come for me, darling," his words were an order her body couldn't refuse and she let go, dropping into the crevice and shattering into a million pieces. The whole world went white around her and she could hear her own heartbeat.

Lavinia felt like she was floating and only the man above her was keeping her from floating away.

"So perfect, so beautiful," he was whispering, stroking her face, her hair, her body, mouth following every touch. She was in heaven and she wanted to remain there forever.

She clung to him as tight as she could and pressed her mouth to his shoulder to keep her useless feelings in where they belonged. There was no room for such feelings here.

They weren't welcome.

And so she held him tight because she knew that it was the last time she ever would.

Lavinia woke up slowly, body loose and relaxed. There was a warm body wrapped around hers and she had never felt so content in her life.

She sighed, wanting to remain like that forever.

She was happy, until she remembered where she was and what she had done. Raising her head from the pillow, she stared down at the man at her side. The first rays of sun were just beginning to fill the room, and he had never looked more attractive to her.

His brown hair was tousled carelessly over his head, the long locks falling into his shut eyes. His long lashes fanned over his cheeks. The bed cover was pulled to just over his hip and his entire upper body was on display, those strong arms curled over her.

Last night he had taken her over and over again till neither of them could even do so much as sigh.

In the light of a new day, her night of pleasure now stared at her like an accusation. And it suddenly occurred to her that there could be consequences of their actions.

Carefully, she slipped out from under his arms and out of the bed. Then carefully and without making a sound, she began to drag on her clothes, hastily doing up most of the buttons of her dress and shrugging on the heavy, dark green cloak she had used to sneak out the previous night.

Ransacking through his desk, she found some stationery and a pen and scribbled down a note that only made her feel more miserable. She placed it on her side of the bed and then dared to say the words that had been in her heart for a while now.

"I love you, Victor."

The words brought her no relief and finally, she slipped out the door and stole down the stairs like a thief. The butler was waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs like a menacing shadow and she gasped as she came upon him.

"What are you doing here?" she whispered.

"My lady," he nodded, "I have taken the liberty of calling you a hackney with a trusted and discreet driver."

A dark feeling curdled in her stomach as she wondered how many other times the man had had to make such arrangements for the Duke's other paramours.

She nodded in gratitude and then left the Wyld house just as silently as she had come hours ago. Nothing had changed and at the same time, everything had. For the rest of her life, she knew she had no hope of ever feeling anything close to this again.

Leaning her forehead against the glass door of the hackney, she closed her eyes and wept.

"Your Grace, shall I draw you a bath?"

The Duke of Wyld opened his eyes slowly and blinked, wincing at the light pouring into the room. He stretched his arms, yawning and the whole time there was a smile stretching his lips. He had had the best night sleep of his entire adult life and-

His thoughts came to a screeching halt when the events of the previous night came rushing back.

Lavinia had been there.

It hadn't been a dream.

He turned his head sharply and glanced at the empty space at his side. There was no hint of a brown haired minx at his side and his heart gave a painful clench at her absence.

"Where is she?" he roared at his valet and the man jerked with shock.

"Where is who, Your Grace?"

He jumped out of bed and reached for his trousers, kicking them on hurriedly. It was as he began to pull his shirt on that he saw the hint of white peeking out from under his bed.

Frowning, he picked up the paper and stared at it with confusion before opening it up. It was three lines of text and thirteen words, but they managed to nearly bring him to his knees. His eyes swept over her flowing script over and over again and then he brushed his fingers over the paper like he could feel her on the page.

I'm sorry.

I have fallen in love with you.

I cannot marry you.

"Your Grace, are you quite alright?"

He stared up at the man wordlessly. No, he wasn't. He felt like someone had taken everything he knew about life and turned it upside down.

She loved him.

It almost seemed impossible but it was true. He couldn't be hallucinating the words on the paper and neither could this be a dream. No dream had ever succeeded in causing such a sharp pain in the place where his heart was.

"She's gone," he whispered.

He watched the valet open and close his mouth, at a loss of words and then finally the man said, "I am sorry, Your Grace."

Victor tugged on his shirt and shoes and raced down the stairs, the letter clutched tight in his hand. He found his mother in the breakfast room sipping her cup of tea daintily, a book I her other hand.

"Victor, dear," she tutted. "What has possessed you to run around the house in that state. I do hope you are not planning on leaving the house looking like that."

Before he could respond, his sister walked in and took a seat at the table, "I would not be surprised. After all, he has lost his senses. What else could possibly make him turn Patrick away."

"Georgie!" his mother chastised, then, "she has a point dear. I heard about you refusing Patrick."

Victor wasn't in the mood to talk about his sister's crazy, whirlwind romance with his best friend. They could run off and shackle themselves together for eternity and see if he cared. He had more pressing problems than them as far as he was concerned, and a burning grudge against the world.

He waved the letter about, "Lavinia is in love with me."

It was Georgie that snorted, "poor girl. Does she know that you traded in your heart for a barrel of beer years and years ago?"

"Georgie!" the dowager duchess cried, " Do not be so insensitive."

The girl's expression turned mulish, "well forgive me if I am unable to scrape out any sympathy at all for him. I am afraid that I have exhausted all of mine on myself."

The older woman decided that ignoring the aggrieved girl was the best course of action. She turned to her son, "I do not understand. Why do you sound mournful about something as beautiful as love?"

"I really did think Miss Proctor had more common sense than to give her heart to a blackhearted man like you!" Georgie roared, jumped to her feet and dashed away, tears running down her cheeks.

"You have hurt your sister greatly," his mother said. "What do you plan to do about that?"

"I was only trying to protect her, the same way I've been trying to protect myself," then he smiled bitterly. "You, on the other hand, you must be relieved to see the last of her."

She stared at him silently, an unreadable expression on her face, "Believe it or not, Victor, but I have only wanted what was best for you and that is a life full of love and joy. But when I saw you were so closed off towards the possibility of love, I became intent on seeing you be at least content."

He dropped into the chair his sister had vacated and began to brush the back of his fingers over Lavinia's words. "What am I going to do?"

"About what?"

He lowered his gaze, "about Lavinia. I cannot lose her."

"Should you not be relieved that she has ended the engagement on her own? You never wanted to be in love and now she has been so thoughtful as to take herself away before she can contaminate you with that horrible feeling."

The glare he shot her could have made a lesser person tremble. Unfortunately for him, she was both his mother and a formidable duchess in her own right.

"I cannot bear the thought of going on without her," he admitted. "I do not see why her loving me should make her end the engagement. It makes no sense."

The woman sighed. She loved her son, but like every other man, he could be very obtuse when it came to such matters.

"I do not know Miss Proctor personally, but I believe that, like every other woman on the planet who has been unfortunate to fall for a man whose heart is unavailable, she does not want to spend the rest of her life in misery."

"I will treat her right. I will-"

"Not love her back."

That snapped his mouth shut, "but I cannot let her go."

"Then you must ask yourself if you love her or not."

He thought about it, or rather, he tried to. Every time his mind began to go close to that four lettered word, he mentally recoiled from it.

"It brought nothing but pain to you. Why would you want the same for me or anybody you care about? "

"Oh my goodness," she covered her mouth with one hand, tears filling her eyes. "Has this been about me from the start?"

His jaw clenched, "I saw what love did to you after Father passed. You were a wreck, and nobody could get through to you, not even Georgie. Did you know that you ignored her so much that she decided to run away? She got on a horse and planned her escape and if I hadn't acted fast, I don't know what would have happened to her."

The tears ran down the dowager duchess's face in rivulets. "I had no idea."

"It's not that I do not believe in love, Mother. Or that I do not think Georgie is capable of loving someone. It is that I do not wish it even on my worst enemy. I have protected her since Father died and I will continue to protect her forever."

His mother stared at him aghast, "I am sorry."

The Duke's face twisted with surprise, "whatever for?"

"I'm sorry that your father died too soon, and I am sorry that I neglected being your mother for so long. You should never have had to grow up so fast and become so responsible at such a young age."

"It was my duty."

"It shouldn't have been," the words were an echo of the ones Lavinia had said to him that day at the opera and it made his chest ache with loss and sorrow.

"I should have taken care of the both of you, but I admit that it was far easier to bury myself in my grief and shut the rest of the world out. I thought I was doing what was best for you children, taking the time to fix myself so I could be the best version for the both of you. What I should have done instead was grieve with you. We should have all shared the grief and grew with it together, but I allowed you to live with both the grief and the burden of everything and I was glad that you were so capable. You shouldn't have had to be capable."

The dowager duchess sniffled, "I loved your father, I still do. That love never destroyed me, Victor. It gave the both of you, my precious darlings, to me and the years we spent together were wonderful. Yes, there is a risk of losing the one you love, and it will hurt you. You will feel the ache like a physical pain crippling you, but what if they do not? I would not choose to have never met your father even with what I know now. The time I spent with him was more than worth it. Will you let yourself miss out on finding and experiencing something so beautiful because you are afraid to lose?"

"You do not understand," he shook his head. "The horror of what it did to you affected all of us. It-"

She stood up, the chair screeching against the floor and then walked to where he sat and put her hand on his shoulder, "listen to me Victor. I want you to listen and listen well."

He stared at her, "I am listening."

"How does forever without Lavinia sound?"

The Duke resisted the urge to rub his chest where a sharp pain had suddenly begun. He opened his mouth and then closed it stubbornly.

"If what I am thinking is correct, then it must sound like hell to you," she stared at him sympathetically. "If you let her walk away now because of your fear, you will lose her forever. She may choose to spend the rest of her life alone or she may find someone who will help her heal."

He shot up to his feet growling, "she is mine." The thought of someone else in his place made him want to commit murder. She would use that sharp wit on someone else and be charming and exasperating to him.

She would kiss him and he would run his hands over her satin smooth skin.

No!

"Then you admit that you feel for her?"

The words were like nails dragging up the inside of his throat, "I love her and I believe I have loved her for a long time, Mother. I cannot lose her."

She may be quickening with his child at the moment, and he was not going to let any child of his grow up as a bastard. Lavinia would be his wife, his duchess, and the mother of the future Duke of Wyld. No other person would do, because he loved her.

The words felt easier in his head now and a tentative smile curled his mouth. His mother smiled too.

"I love her, " he breathed.

"Do not just stand here and tell me. I am not the one who needs to hear the words," she huffed.

He made to head for the door and she cleared her throat sharply, halting him. Then her eyes swept down his body pointedly, "I know love makes one a little bit crazy, but I am afraid you will be hurled off to bedlam before you can tell your Miss Proctor how you feel."

"You do not understand, there is hardly any time," even as he grumbled the words, he knew his mother was right.

He also needed to speak to his sister. For the first time since he had received the news at school that his father had passed, he felt something like hope fill his chest. Accompanying that hope was trepidation though, but he loved Lavinia Proctor and that had to be good enough.

Love.

The word only made him pause a little now.

He burst into his room and stared his valet down. "Set out my best suit. I have somewhere very important to be."