Chapter 22

CHAPTER 22

“Just send for me if you need me,” Violet urged softly, grasping Celia’s hand, as behind her, Xander was taking their leave.

“Thank you,” Celia whispered back, still holding just as tightly onto her sister’s hand.

Now that the wedding breakfast was drawing to a close, it was dawning on Celia just how much her life had changed. Her parents had already taken their leave, as had her friends. Even the Duke of Hardbridge’s mother and cousin had left, saying they were going to stay in the dower house for a week or two to give the newlyweds some privacy.

The thought of being left alone with her new husband in this massive house was daunting. There would be nothing between her and her husband. They were free to do whatever they liked. The thought made her both nervous and thrilled.

“I’ll see you soon,” Violet promised and extricated her hand from Celia’s.

“Yes, please.” Celia let her go.

She stood in the doorway of the grand house, adjusting the lace of her gown repeatedly as she watched her new husband wave off the last carriage. Violet stuck her head out of the window and continued to wave until the carriage turned at the end of the driveway.

Celia let her hand drop as her eyes shifted to the Duke. He was walking toward her now. He was back to that intense and unblinking gaze.

“Are we alone?” she whispered.

“My staff are here.” He nodded toward something behind her.

She glanced at the staff now entering the dining room, where they had their breakfast.

“I need to speak to you. Alone.” She turned on her heel, grasping the long train of her lace gown as she went.

Unsure of where she was heading, she marched into the nearest room. It turned out to be a music room, so she halted quickly, for it was not what she had expected.

Distracted for a second, she looked at the myriad of musical instruments and the luxurious decorations. There didn’t seem to be a part of this house that wasn’t beautiful.

I cannot believe this is my home now.

Then the door closed, and she was snapped back into the moment. She turned to face the Duke as he stepped toward her.

He was all too handsome in his black suit, the waistcoat a rich copper. He had shed his tailcoat, as he so often did, and his cravat hung loose at his throat. He thrust his hands into his pockets, looking completely at ease in the room, whereas she felt extremely tense.

“I wish to lay some rules,” she said, doing her best to keep her voice level as she raised her chin.

He raised his eyebrows but said nothing.

“First off, forget the wedding night.”

“Forget it?” he spoke, at last.

“Yes. I do not think us consummating this marriage is a good idea, do you?”

“I think it is probably the best thing ye and I could do in this marriage. Ye cannot deny ye have been thinking about it, can ye?”

“I am not answering that question.”

“That gave me the only answer I needed to hear.” He smirked in a way that was infuriating and exciting at the same time.

“Your Grace, I⁠—”

“Keith. We have been over this. My name is Keith, and I will not have ye use my title now that we are married. My name is Keith, sweetheart. Use it.”

“Keith, then.” She tried out the name.

There was something so incredibly personal about it. Somehow, it had made the atmosphere in the music room even more intimate than before.

“Keith… we do not need a wedding night.”

“As it happens, I quite agree, lass.”

“Wait… you do?” she spluttered. Suddenly offended, even though it was what she was asking for, she folded her arms. “You do not want to consummate our marriage?”

“I was rather thinking what’s the point in waiting until the night?” He was already walking toward her.

“You mean—oh!” She had not been prepared for him to bend down. He abruptly pressed his shoulder against her hip and lifted her into the air. “What the hell do you think you are doing—Keith!”

“Ye’ll make the staff think all sorts of things if ye cry out like that, sweetheart.”

He laughed as she pounded her fists on the middle of his back, her head hanging down.

“Keith!” she snapped, pulling on the back of his waistcoat whilst he wrapped one arm around the back of her knees and marched out of the room with her. “Put me down.”

“It’s the easiest way to get ye somewhere more private without that long train getting in the way.”

She felt him throw it over his other arm.

When they reached the staircase, she looked around, wondering what the staff would think if they were seen like this, but there was no one to be seen. They must have already cleared away the tables and gone back below the stairs.

He carried her up the steps with remarkable ease as she continued to pull on the back of his waistcoat.

“Put me down.”

“Not yet, sweetheart.”

“Keith! Put me down!”

“Ye were the one who has just made a vow to obey me, lass. I do not remember doing the same to ye.”

“Argh! You are insufferable.”

“Yet, ye vowed to love me through all of that. Remember?”

“You are even more infuriating now that we are married,” she argued into his back as she kept on pulling at his waistcoat.

She had no idea where they were now. He had carried her off to some distant part of the house, and all she could make out were carpet runners and nice ornaments on tables.

“Where are we going?”

“Do ye need to ask?” he practically growled. “Maybe I can’t give ye much as a husband, but I can damn well give ye what ye want in this area.”

Something in her stomach fluttered excitedly. She stopped wriggling and just waited to see what would happen next.

He stopped walking. There was the sound of a door opening, and then they stepped into another room. Celia pressed her palms against his lower back, doing her best to look up and take in their surroundings.

It was a bedchamber, one that was richly decorated indeed. Every drape, every curtain, even the cloths hanging from the bed were russet red. It was an enticingly warm and dark room.

“Now, I’ll put ye down.”

She was suddenly flung off his shoulder. She yelped as she landed on the plush bed. Her head sank between the cushions, immediately blocking her view of Keith. She was busy pushing these cushions aside when she suddenly became aware of her shoes being pulled off.

“What are you…” she trailed off as she managed to sit up on the bed.

He was now reaching beneath her skirt. Quite tongue-tied, she just watched as he took hold of one of her stockings and pulled it down her leg. His fingers left a searing path in their wake.

He pulled the stocking off with a final flick of his wrist and then wound one end around his hand. The other, he wrapped around her wrist. She watched, not sure what happened to her insistence that they didn’t explore one another further. For some reason, now, such an insistence seemed rather ridiculous.

He shifted her, moving to tie her wrist to the bedpost with the stocking.

“Fearing I’m going to run away?” she asked, marveling at the soft material against her wrist, though it firmly kept her bound.

“Just making sure ye can’t,” he said in a deep voice, then he winked as his face appeared in front of hers. “Now, for the other one.”

He took off the other stocking even more slowly. His hand traced a path down the back of her calf, squeezing it before he removed the stocking and reached for her other wrist.

She gasped when he tied her wrist to another post. She was now laid out flat on her back on the bed. If she really wanted to escape, she could have pulled hard enough to tear the stockings and get away, but… but she wanted to know what more he wanted to do to her now that he had her in this position.

He stood before the bed and started to unbutton his waistcoat. Celia couldn’t look at anything else in the room but him. She watched, entranced, as he undid all the buttons and pulled the garment off. She wanted him to reach for his shirt next, but he didn’t. He instead kicked off his boots and then made his way back to the bed.

She arched up toward him, longing to feel his lips on her own, but he knew exactly what she wanted and defied her, teasing her. He held his lips just out of reach, then turned her head to the side and taunted her by trailing his lips down her neck. It wasn’t quite a kiss, but enough of one to promise what would come.

“Oh…” She moaned in frustration, wishing to pull him down to her, though her bound hands meant she couldn’t. She held tightly onto the stockings instead.

“Patience, sweetheart.”

“I have none of that!” she complained as he chuckled against her skin.

She fell flat back down on the bed again as he kissed his way down her cleavage. He nipped her ever so lightly, then softened the bite with a lick that had her panting, and then he kissed all the way down her stomach through the gown.

When he reached the apex of her thighs, he halted his kisses and pulled at the skirt of her dress. The train was so long that it took time, making her writhe on the bed in frustration. That familiar ache now was back between her legs, the ache that spoke so much of needing satisfaction, of needing to be touched.

As he exposed her legs, he bent down again. She held her breath, waiting to see if he would kiss her legs, but he didn’t. He gripped her thighs and opened them wide with breathtaking suddenness.

Then she felt his lips on her very center. The spark and excitement returned in the most thrilling way, each flick of his tongue against her wet core making her breaths quicken.

His lips moved to that most sensitive area above her entrance, and then he slid his finger into her without warning. The way he reached for that most sensitive spot inside her was scintillating. She bucked her hips against him, pulling even more on the stockings holding her in position, for she so badly wanted to reach down to him but couldn’t.

She was soon a dithering mess as he curled his finger at the right moment, finding a new spot inside of her that made her toes curl. She was sure she was climbing those heights, ready for her release when he stopped.

“Keith,” she complained.

“I’m making this last, sweetheart. I’m going to remember every second.”

He kissed her hip with those words before he knelt up between her legs. He reached down for his trousers and slowly unbuckled them. Transfixed, she watched with her lips a little parted, eying him as he released his length.

Teasing himself just a little, he pumped his length once. She pulled on the stockings again, frustrated not to be the one touching him.

He chuckled, clearly seeing what she was doing, then pushed his trousers down all the way. Then he went for her wrists and pulled one of the stockings off. She reached for him, but he took hold of her hand too quickly and turned it around. Holding her wrist to his lips, he nipped the back in a thrilling way.

“Not yet, lass.”

He turned her over so she was on her knees and fastened her wrist to the same post where her other wrist was attached. It was all done swiftly, leaving Celia on her knees, holding onto the post, as she desperately tried to look over her shoulder at what he was doing.

He positioned himself behind her rear, then grabbed hold of her calf. With firm fingers, he pulled her legs further apart so there was a perfect space for him to kneel.

She panted faster as she looked forward again, gripping the post hard.

He rubbed his hands across her rear, his fingers exploring her cheeks and even dipping into the space beneath. The firmness of his movements, the confidence with which he did everything, was as intoxicating to her as what they were doing.

He slid his fingers toward her entrance and started toying with her, not quite entering her but teasing her with the possibility that it would be soon. She rocked her hips back, wanting him to touch her again, but his other hand slapped her buttcheek.

“Oh!” she gasped at the excitement of that touch. Again, he hadn’t hurt her, but it was enough to make her want more.

“Patience,” he preached again in such a deep voice that she moaned his name. It escaped her lips without her being ready for it. “That’s it, sweetheart. Ye’ll be moaning my name louder in a minute.”

Then his fingers explored her entrance again. Feeling braver this time, she rocked her hips back again. Once more, he tapped her in reprimand, and she moaned in the most pleasurable way.

She was still moaning when she felt his fingers slide into her. He was rougher this time, pleasuring her boldly and without restraint. Far from being just one finger, she was sure it was two, though when she felt her walls being stretched further, she thought he may have even used three.

As she repeatedly rocked her hips back, he didn’t discipline her this time. Instead, he growled, his other hand loosely gripping her hip, as if all he wanted in the world was to watch her movement.

“Keith… I…”

She was so close to her release—she was ready for it. Her body started to tighten, and he must have sensed it, for his fingers curled inside her. Then he pulled his fingers out.

“Keith!”

“Not yet, sweetheart. No release for ye until I feel ye wrapped around me.”