Chapter 10

Chapter 10

It was all too perfect. All of the pieces were exactly aligned with one another. Even the mention of the handkerchief was enough to trigger a vivid recollection of it in her mind. She could still picture the pink stitching. Lydia had thought that she had lost it, but she had always wondered if she had left it there or not.

“A handkerchief?” Lydia echoed, her steps faltering as she moved toward the house.

The duke nodded absently, not looking at her as he spoke next. “Yes, just two little initials on the bo—”

“What were they?”

The duke laughed, not wholly grasping how shocked the woman beside him had become. “Try as I might, I never could seem to find another woman with the initials L.R but I -”

Lydia could not take another step. “That was mine.”

The duke turned, blinking at her incredulously.

“My maiden name is Russell; my surname was naturally changed when I got married.” Lydia’s voice was almost a whisper. She took a step forward boldly, her hands lifting as she rose herself up onto her toes as high as she possibly could and hovered her hands over the upper half of his face.

Her head tilted, attempting to match up the current image with the one that lived inside of her memory so vibrantly. Here, the same image that had been at the forefront of every dream that she had had since that year.

Softly, Weston’s hands closed around her wrists, lowering her hands from his face. His chest was so still that it did not appear that he was breathing. Could he feel it too? When she looked up into his eyes once more, she almost felt her eyes welling with tears. She had no hope that she would ever truly run into him again. She never thought that she would look into his eyes or be near enough for him to touch her.

His thumbs brushed over the insides of her wrists, studying her face as if he were seeing her for the first time.

“Come with me,” he said, pulling her toward the nearby gardens. It felt surreal to be repeating the same sorts of events that she could remember so vividly. Lydia’s hand twisted, pushing her fingers through the duke’s boldly, linking their hands more properly until they were well ensconced in the garden where they might have a moment of privacy.

As soon as he was certain they were alone, the duke hovered his hand over the side of her face as if needing to commit this new version of her to memory. It was satisfying to know that the spark that she had felt while arguing with him before was not unfounded.

“This does not feel real.” Lydia whispered with a soft smile. “I have thought about you nearly every night for the last nine years.”

“I knew that the connection that I felt could not be mistaken. It could not be from nowhere.” The duke spoke almost wistfully as if his mind would not still put together the pieces with enough speed. “After all those years of searching, you appear in the least likely of circumstances. It feels impossible.”

Lydia’s hands slipped from his, wrapping them around herself as she struggled with the abundance of emotions. What did this mean? Just because she now knew the identity of the only man who had ever made her feel quite that alive before, would things change for her? It did not change the will or the issues of the estate.

She was a widow now, with young children whom she was responsible for. Did she have the right to be here, hiding away in a garden with a man? Much less allowing him to stand so closely to her and touch her. Technically speaking, she was still in her mourning period. It would be wholly inappropriate for her to allow such feelings to resurface now.

Weston’s finger curled under her chin, gently urging her to turn back and look at him properly. “I have dreamt of this moment so many times.”

The smile that he offered her then was unlike anything that she could have imagined. Soft, gentle and almost hopeful. It was impossible not to feel the flutter of nerves and anticipation in her belly at the sight of how handsome it made his face.

“Of course, over the years there have been variations of how I might approach this moment, but almost all of them resulted in being able to finish that moment that we shared. I often wonder what might have happened if you had not been called away or if I had been swifter in convincing you to stay.

If the years had passed, would it have been just a fleeting moment in time, or something more?” Weston said softly, as if speaking too loudly would break the fragility of the moment that they found themselves in.

Everything that he said seemed to have been pulled from her own mind. She had wondered the same thing countless times. Weston’s thumb brushed over the tip of her chin softly as he shook his head. Lydia knew that she could not look away, she was helplessly transfixed on his every word.

“But, now that I am standing here in front of you there is only one thing that I desire more than anything, and that is to feel your lips against mine once more.” Weston’s gaze dropped to her mouth, lingering as he traced the fullness of her bottom lip with his thumb next. “May I?”

Lydia knew that she should not. If she allowed this to happen, she would only become addicted all over again. Her body drew closer to him, pining to be pulled into his strong arms despite her mind rebelling against her impulsivity. Logically, she should say no… but she wanted him more than anything.

Perhaps it would be terrible. If it were nothing but a tangle of teeth and gnash of lips, then she could dispense with her fantasy. Surely, she would have built the memory up in her mind to be far more satisfying than it was, right? It was purely for academic reasons that she needed to kiss him. That was what she was going to tell herself. Just one kiss, and she would learn that it was not so impressive, and she could finally have some semblance of closure.

Lydia lied to herself so wholly that she dipped her chin into a nod, pretending that his kiss was not purely out of desire for him.

There was no collision of their mouths, there was no awkwardness or fumbling in the way that Weston cupped her face and pulled her closer to him. His lips were soft, and talented in the way they sampled her very essence. Lydia’s hands found their way to his chest, pulling him closer to her by the lapels of his waistcoat.

A soft sigh of pure, unfiltered yearning left her lips, only to be swallowed by his. Their tongues met, dancing together as they once had waltzed before. Lydia could feel him everywhere . Wholly enveloped in the heat and scent of him she could not get enough. Her hands could not touch him efficiently as she wanted to memorize each and every bit of him lest she be suddenly rudely awoken from this dream.

Breathless, the moment did not shatter. She was almost afraid to open her eyes. Weston’s hands tightened around her waist, and his lips started to travel down the side of her neck. It was all happening so quickly that her mind would not stop reeling.

All of these years, and it was finally here. Her dreams manifested into reality. Her head fell back, safely held up by Weston as she savored each and every kiss against her heated skin. Then it shifted, one of his arms banding around her lower back to keep her upright and his other drifted toward her breast, massaging the skin softly.

The few times that she had ever lain with her late husband had been nothing like this. She hadn’t been gasping and wanton, she had known that she had little to no choice in the matter because it was her wifely duty to him. After they had had their daughter, their coupling was twice a year at best.

It had been enough for her, as the encounters (while perfectly pleasant) never left her wanting more. The fulfillment and boundless pleasure that Martha had always advised her of simply had not been there. Lydia had resigned herself to thinking that such things just were not meant for her.

Turns out, her body was simply only responsive to this one man. Something she would no longer complain of.

If she were to lay with him, what would happen? Given that this man was now going to be in her life whether this happened or not, could she handle it if she were just another name in his little black book? If their union were only once, would that satisfy her?

She knew that it would not. One kiss had not been enough, and even this was not going to be enough. There was something addictive about his touch and the hungry way he looked at her. She had never felt more seen, more desired.

If it were to fade away?

Better to never know the depths of those feelings than to be left heartbroken.

With that, Lydia pushed the duke away from her.

Though there was little strength in her arms to fuel the action. It was not often that her impulses overrode her brain but now her faculties were back in control of her body.

“We should not, Your Grace.” Lydia panted, struggling to control her breathing. Her chest heaved; her face felt flush as looked anywhere but his face. “Please forgive me, I do wish to… but…”

Slowly, the duke removed his hands from her and then tugged his clothing back into place. He pointedly cleared his throat and chuckled under his breath. “Nothing to apologize for, my lady.”

What was she saying? There might not be another opportunity like this! She ought to seize the moment! It was such a rare thing that she was allowed to do anything for purely selfish reasons. Allowing herself this pleasure was something nobody could take from her… but if there were consequences, they could very well affect those that she loved the most.

The duke grabbed her hand, formally kissing the back of her palm before straightening. He took a moment to subtly adjust himself. He does not press the issue. She somehow knew that he was not going to attempt to make her uncomfortable.

“I am just glad to know who you are, my lady.” Weston smiles. “You know where to find me.”

Lydia could not even summon words to say goodbye. She merely turned on her heel and walked straight back up to the house.

That night, Lydia could not sleep–torn by her guilt, her desire to be free, and her desire for the duke. What would the future hold for her and her daughters? Is it possible that the duke could be part of it all?