CHAPTER FOURTEEN

 

 

 

Edmond paced the length of the garden, hands clenched tight behind his back. The hour had passed two o'clock in the morning ten minutes ago, and Penelope was late. She had responded to his message, sent by his valet—the only man he trusted with such a sensitive note. Soon after, her abigail had slipped an answer into his man's hand: her acceptance of his request that she come to him tonight at two of the clock. While he had wanted to come for her himself, he remained aware that it wouldn't be wise. Besides, he was not oblivious to her experience in discreet affairs. She knew how to go unseen in the dark of night, and he felt confident she would arrive unharmed.

The longer she kept him waiting, the more anxious he became, imagining some harsh fate befalling her with him powerless to stop it.

It would be your own fault, he told himself. Just as this entire debacle has been.

Yes, it was his fault, all of it. When Colin had asked him to speak with Penelope on his behalf, he should have refused. Or, when he'd danced with her that night, he should not have engaged her in flirting, a habit he found himself slipping into far too easily. He should never have kissed her that first time in the alley, or fucked her in his carriage. He should never have allowed himself to even think of her as anything other than Colin's future bride.

Now, he found himself waiting in a dark garden for a woman he wasn't supposed to desire, but could not stop thinking about, while a confused mixture of guilt and anticipation swirled low in his gut.

The sound of horse's hooves mingled with the clatter of carriage wheels disturbed his thoughts, bringing him to his feet. Walking to the garden gate, he peered over it into the darkness, waiting to determine if what he'd heard had been her arrival. A sigh of relief rushed between his lips when a slight figure shrouded in a dark, hooded cloak appeared from the alley, walking toward him at a brisk pace.

Not bothering to unlatch the gate, he vaulted over it, rushing forward to meet her at a jog. As he drew near, she lowered the hood of her cloak, allowing the moonlight to illuminate her face. She smiled when he reached for her, slipping one hand into the folds of her cloak to grasp her waist. The other cupped her face, tilting her head back for a kiss.

She melted against him as he took her mouth, his lips possessing her with a tenderness that surprised even him. Sinking against her body, he cradled her soft curves with his hard planes, reveling in the moment. They weren't in a carriage, hurrying to finish before arriving at her home. No one was coming who might see them kissing out in the open.

When he pulled away, her eyes had grown heavy-lidded, and her breath raced between parted lips turned red and swollen from his kisses.

"Well," she murmured, clearly stunned by his tender assault. "Good evening to you, too."

"I've missed you," he replied, taking her hand to lead her back toward the garden.

"I missed you, as well," she said, allowing him to open the gate before preceding him through it.

Taking her hand again, he pulled her through to one of the servants' entrances, which led them along a long, dark corridor. They traversed it in silence, then scaled several flights of rough, wooden stairs before Edmond found the correct door. They appeared in his dressing room, which he promptly led her through to his bedchamber.

Sweeping into the space as if she owned it, Penelope removed her cloak, draping it over the back of an armchair near the fire.

"What's all this?" she asked, gesturing toward the spread he had arranged on a blanket before the fire in order to pass the time.

Removing his own coat, he tossed it on top of her cloak and reached for her once more, taking her into his arms and holding her close.

"I did not only ask you here to fuck, Penelope. I truly did miss your company these last few days. I thought we could talk first. Have some wine. Spend time together."

Her eyes widened, and something akin to fear seemed to alight in her gaze.

Are you frightened, sweet Penny? I am, as well.

She smiled again, yet this time, it seemed forced. "You didn't have to go through so much trouble for me, Edmond. I've never required romance of my past lovers."

Lifting one of her hands, he lightly kissed the knuckles. "You shall have it with me. Now, sit, please. Let me pour you a glass of wine."

He released her, watching as she sank to her knees on the floor, arranging her skirts decorously about her legs. He joined her, plucking the bottle of champagne he had procured for them from its ice bucket, and filling two flutes. After handing her one, he raised his glass to her before taking a drink. She followed suit, draining about half the contents before reaching out to pluck a plump grape from the platter he had arranged them on.

"How was your day?" she asked, reaching for another grape.

Sighing, he stretched out until he lay on his side, staring up at her. "Hellish. I do not wish to speak of it, not while you're here. I asked you here because I knew you could help me forget."

Reaching out, she smoothed her soft fingers over his furrowed brow, soothing the lines. Stroking his hair back from his face, she frowned.

"My dear Edmond … I do not like seeing you this way. What can I do?"

"Your presence is enough," he replied, placing his glass aside and lying down to rest his head in her lap. "You have the strange ability to brighten a man's world, Penelope. When you are with me, I forget everything except you."

She stiffened, her fingers pausing on their journey through his hair. He closed his eyes, realizing now that he had gone too far. Penelope was a pragmatic woman, one who did not make room for attachments in her life. However, he had become far too captivated by her, far too quickly. How pitiful she must think him.

"Shall I tell you about my day, then?"

Grateful for a change of subject, he nodded, turning onto his back so he could look up at her. "Yes, please."

She finished her first glass of champagne, then reached out for the bottle, refilling her flute. "Well, after morning calls, I spent my afternoon inspecting townhouses for sale."

That caught his attention. He realized her twenty-fifth birthday loomed near, and with its coming, her inheritance and independence would both become hers.

"That sounds exciting," he said, for lack of anything better to say.

What else could he say?

Well, darling, that sounds marvelous, but you and I both know you'll never purchase a home on your own before Colin has swooped in to claim you.

The thought of them, perhaps purchasing a home together instead caused a heavy, cold weight to settle in his gut.

"Oh, it was," she said with a nod. "I believe I've found the one, too. A lovely home on Half Moon Street, with wrought iron railings on the stairs, and beautiful marble floors. Grecian columns in the front hall, four drawing rooms, a music room, and a sunroom, as well. It is perfect."

"What will you do in such a house by yourself?" he asked, genuinely interested to hear her answer.

She shrugged, then giggled. "Entertain, I suppose. Enjoy my solitude. Whatever I bloody want, that's for certain. Nothing will feel better than owning myself, as well as my own home, outright."

Falling silent, he thought over her words for a moment. If she held true to her word, the next year and the one after would see her firmly on the shelf. It was the life she claimed to want, but Edmond could not help but wonder … somewhere inside her, the girl who had loved Colin Worthing enough to risk scandal for a marriage that never happened must still reside.

"That sort of life may suit you for a time," he mused aloud. "But one year from now? Five years? Won't you become lonely in such an existence?"

She scoffed. "Only a man who believes a woman's sole option in this world is to marry a man and birth his children would ask such a question."

Edmond laughed. "That might be true, but that does not only apply to women, you know. A man like me has only one option, as well, and it isn't much different. For me, marriage is a must, as well as the siring of an heir. The difference is, I am also expected to inherit my father's title, lands, and reputation. I could not choose an alternate future, even if I wanted to."

She gazed own at him for a moment in silence, her expression pensive. "I never thought of it that way. Men of the upper class seem the most privileged in our world. I never stopped to think that first sons are as much slaves to society's expectations as we are."

Chuckling again, he reached up and tugged a loose lock of her hair. "Well, I am allowed to vote. That, and the benefits of other privileges you don't have isn't lost on me, darling. I did not mean to imply that my plight is so difficult as that of a woman. I just thought … well, I imagine a different sort of life for you."

She scoffed. "Pray, do tell, Edmond."

"Well," he began. "I imagine you being awakened every morning by a husband who is madly in love with you. As the sun rises through the window, casting its rays on your hair, just so … he finds himself overcome by your beauty. So much so that he must have you then and there. You begin most of your mornings that way, I think."

With a laugh, she shifted until she rested on her hip, legs folded beside her. His head remained in her lap.

"I like it already," she murmured.

"After breakfast, you adjourn to the schoolroom to look in on your two children. As you watch them at their lessons with the governess, your heart swells with pride, and you press a hand to your round, swollen belly, thinking of the one soon to join his elder brother and sister."

Snorting, she nearly choked on the grape she nibbled. "Three children in five years?"

Edmond shrugged. "You are fertile, and your husband is virile. However, being a wife and mother aren't the only things you excel at. After meeting with your housekeeper to go over the decadent menu for your dinner party later that evening, you depart for an afternoon of work with your charitable ladies' society … a new group of upper class wives you assembled yourself for the impact of maximum influence through their husbands. Everyone thinks all you do is sew stockings and pass packets of medicine out to the poor. Ah, but your true aim is to exert influence upon your husbands, swaying their positions and votes in the House of Lords. As a group, you get them to do your bidding by withholding intercourse and their favorite brandy, you wily minxes!"

Fits of laughter shook her, until she collapsed almost on top of him. "What a ridiculous notion, that men can be so easily manipulated by their wives!"

Edmond arched an eyebrow at her. "You know appallingly little about men if you find that notion ridiculous. Besides, I've heard of such tactics being quite successful. Nonetheless … back to your life. It would be a full one, Penelope … a busy existence, but one filled with people and love."

"And my husband allows me freedom of movement?" she asked, a hint of sarcasm in her voice. "I think not."

Rising to a seated position, he reached up and cupped her face. "Darling, your husband is so batty for you, he'd move a mountain if you asked it. He allows your every whim and fulfills your every desire, because his existence is reduced to nothing if you aren't happy."

Despite the desire flaming in her gaze, she frowned, the expression at odds with what he found in her eyes, and he suspected, what she found in her own heart.

"You are referring to Colin, aren't you?" she murmured.

Clenching his jaw, he realized she was right. He had thought of her with Colin, because he hadn't allowed himself to imagine things any other way. Yet now, with her lying in his arms, capturing him with her wide-eyed stare, he allowed himself to believe otherwise—that, perhaps, there might be a chance she could be his.

"No," he replied, his voice low and raspy to his own ears. "I am not referring to Colin."

He slid his hand back to grasp the nape of her neck, commanding her without words to come to him. Her hesitation didn't last long. His flexing fingers massaging her neck stole her resistance, and she met his lips with a breathy sigh.

His kiss became urgent his time, lacking his earlier warmth and finesse. He hungered for her, lapping at her with his tongue, yearning for her taste. They moaned in unison, desire crackling in the air between them like lightning.

"Shall I show you how the Penelope of my dreams spends her nights?" he whispered.

Before she could answer, he was standing, taking her up into his arms. Cradled against his chest, she held on to his neck, resting her head against his shoulder. Once they reached the massive bed taking up an entire corner of the chamber, he laid her down upon her stomach. He removed his cravat, waistcoat, and shirt before climbing onto the bed, straddling her hips and leaning down to press his naked chest against her back.

Pushing a lock of hair aside, he kissed her jaw, then moved down to the sensual curve of her neck. She sighed when he kissed her there, tracing a path to her shoulder. As he continued on his way, Edmond brought his fingers to the fastenings of her gown, swiftly opening them. His mouth followed his hands, the satin ribbons of her corset tickling his lips. When he reached the ribbon at her tailbone, he caught it between his teeth and tugged, loosening the neat bow her abigail had accomplished. He loosened the confining garment, then pulled it, along with her gown and chemise, away from her body at once, lifting her to gingerly peel the layers away. Standing, he tossed the clothing into a heap on the floor before removing her dainty slippers, throwing them aside, as well.

"Christ, I wish you could see what a pretty picture you make," he murmured, reaching down to apply pressure to his aching cock. "Your long legs in those silk stockings, the rest of your body bare just for me. Your lovely back, the perfect curve of your luscious arse. Part your legs for me, darling."

Arching her back and bending her knees, she lifted her hips from the bed and exposed the tender pink flesh of her quim. He approached the bed, reaching out to palm one of the soft cheeks of her derrière. He smoothed his hand over it, tracing the curve up to her back, then down, skimming her spine with his fingers. Following the same path, he moved back down, smoothing the pad of his index finger along each bump of her spine, then delving between her cheeks. Pressing his thumb against the tight opening of her rear passage, he smiled when she shuddered.

"Do you like that, love? It's all right for you to talk this time … I haven't produced the gag … yet."

She shivered again, as if the prospect of him gagging her again excited her. "Yes," she whispered. "Yes, I liked it."

He nodded, circling the bed until he stood before her. "Good."

Reaching out for the tassel holding the bed curtains tethered to the post, he untied it, then grasped one of her hands. She fell forward onto her stomach when he grasped the other, throwing her off balance. He executed a quick, efficient knot, trapping her wrists together before lifting them and securing them both to the post. Testing his handiwork, he determined that he hadn't tied her too tight.

Grasping the ropes with both hands, she used the leverage of the post to rise to her knees, facing him.

Reaching out to pinch one of her nipples, he smiled when she whimpered. He palmed one heavy breast, watching as the tip went hard against his hand. He took the other in hand, as well, kneading them both before caressing the nipples lightly with his thumbs. Bending his head, he dragged his tongue over first one, then the other.

Grasping the ropes, she held on tight, moaning as he took one deep into his mouth and suckled with powerful tugs while steadily teasing the nipple with his tongue.

Releasing her, he circled the bed again, climbing up behind her. While unfastening his breeches with one hand, he slid the other between her open legs, encountering the slick, wet folds of her cunt. She moaned, wiggling her hips and angling herself closer to him. He slid two fingers inside of her, trembling as he found her dripping wet for him.

Stroking her velvety channel, he placed his thumb against her anus once more, pressing with gentle insistence. She drew a sharp breath, raised her hips, and invited him in. Encouraged by her response, he withdrew his fingers from her cunt, using them to smear her in her own wetness. When she was ready, he replaced his fingers inside her, then returned his thumb to her now readied rear opening. It slid inside her with ease, and the tight ring of flesh gripped him.

"Ah, Edmond, yes!" she cried, her breath coming in harsh gasps as he slowly plunged and withdrew all three digits, invading both spaces simultaneously, stroking her to greater heights of pleasure.

He licked his lips, his fascinated gaze locked on the sight of his thumb disappearing into that secret part of her … a part he longed to explore further.

"You're such a naughty girl, Penelope," he groaned, removing his fingers from her sheath, but keeping his thumb buried deep. "I should punish you for being so wicked."

A throaty laugh escaped her lips, followed by a moan as he pressed the swollen head of his sex against her opening.

"Yes, punish me, Edmond," she gasped as he teased her dewy folds and the button of her clit, rubbing his cock back and forth against her.

Grasping a handful of her hair, he gave it a tug, pulling her head back until his mouth could reach her ear. He bit her earlobe, then soothed it with his tongue. Withdrawing his thumb from her, he swiftly slapped her bottom while thrusting into her cunt in one smooth stroke. She screamed, arching her back as her channel began to spasm around him in climax. Holding her hair in one hand, he began to fuck her, pounding against her without restraint. She grasped the bedpost as he pressed her against it, his wild thrusts causing the bed to tremble and shake. Her untamed cries echoed from his high ceilings.

"God damn it, you feel so bloody good. Christ, Penelope!"

She whimpered at the sound of her name shouted in passion, undulating her hips to meet his movements. Turning her head, she met his searching lips, accepting the invasion of his tongue and meeting it with her own.

A moment later, she shuddered again, falling back against him with a weakly muttered, "Edmond".

When she collapsed in his arms, he reached out to untie her, freeing her wrists with a few swift tugs. Turning to lay her against the pillows, he came down between her legs, entering her once more.

Grasping her hands, he pressed them to the bed, intertwining her fingers with his. He slowed his thrusts, closing his eyes as the urge to savor every second suddenly overcame him. His heart pounded in his chest, his every sense heightened as if attuned to hers. Never had he felt so consumed by a woman while taking her to bed. He did not want it to end … not when she held on to his hands as if for dear life, raising her head to capture his mouth in a sweet kiss.

"My darling Penelope," he murmured against her lips. "What have you done to me? I am ruined."

Her wide eyes met his, and he saw and felt her fear as surely as he experienced his own. Yet, he couldn't stop, not when it seemed as if the euphoria of baring his soul while being inside of her might kill him.

"I love you," he groaned as climax began to bear down on him. "I know I shouldn't, but I can't stop … I love you."

He slowed his strokes, hoping to draw it out a moment longer, but when she cried out one last time, her sheath tightening around him in yet another sweet ending, he could stand it no longer. Withdrawing, he spilled on the sheets with a hoarse shout, trembling as the force of his completion stole his breath. All of his anger, sadness, and need trickled from him in a hot rush, until he felt purged … sated.

For a moment, he simply remained where he was, knelt between Penelope's spread knees, head lowered. He feared what he might see if he looked at her, yet knew he could not avoid the inevitable any longer. When he lifted his gaze, his gut roiled at what he found.

Breath coming in short, ragged gasps, she glared at him, tears spilling over the rims of her eyes. While he had not expected her to respond with a similar declaration of her own, he certainly hadn't expected this.

"Get up," she growled from between clenched teeth. "Remove yourself from my person this instant."

Bewildered, he obeyed, standing to reach for his breeches. Fumbling with shaking hands, she tore her chemise free from the clothing he'd left in a heap on the floor. Frowning, he watched as she snatched it on, all while avoiding his gaze.

"Penelope, please talk to me. What did I do? Was I too rough? I didn't hurt you, did I?"

The notion horrified him, so he quickly closed the distance between them, reaching out to clutch her shoulders.

"Look at me … please."

When she did, her gaze might have killed him if it were capable. She glared at him as if he were the vilest snake to be crushed beneath her boot. Before he could register her intent, her palm made contact with his cheek with a surprising amount of strength. The sting of it spread from his cheek to his jaw and up toward his eye, causing it to water.

"You son of a bitch," she murmured. "You lecher."

Grasping his face, he stared at her with wide eyes. "What the bloody hell was that all about?"

"How dare you speak to me of love when you've been lying to me this entire time?"

The niggling sensation of dread prickled along the surface of his skin. "What are you talking about?"

"Don't play stupid, Edmond," she spat. "Did you, or did you not, agree to help Colin manipulate me into marriage with him?"

Her question slammed into him, knocking the air from his lungs. "I … well, I … it isn't so simple as all that."

She slapped him again, harder this time.

"Ah, bloody hell!" he muttered, left with no choice but to accept what was happening.

After all, she was right. He had agreed, then he had allowed himself to cross the line with her, in more ways than one.

"All right," he relented. "I did … he asked for my help and I agreed."

"How could you?" she demanded, another tear racing down one cheek. "After all he did to me, you—you conspired with him … and for what? Did it amuse you both to toy with me? Or does he not know that you made sport of me, pursuing me even after agreeing to help steer me in his direction? I'm certain it was so much fun for you, Edmond, helping yourself to Colin's leavings."

"Now wait just one moment," he protested, a sudden thought occurred to him. "I might have agreed to help Colin, but you practically threw yourself at me in that carriage!"

She laughed, the sound harsh. "Yes, because I knew what you wanted. Men are so predictable, and you took the bait just as I knew you would."

His mouth fell open until he felt as if his jaw might scrape the floor. "You knew about Colin before you offered yourself to me. Why? Why would you do something like that?"

A sneer marred her beautiful mouth and she crossed her arms over her chest. "Would you ask that question if I were a man? Of course not! Because you do as you please, the lot of you. Well, I'll tell you why. I wanted you both to know how it feels to be toyed with, for once, to lose the upper hand to someone who is keen to your game. Oh, I don't blame you entirely. Colin is just as guilty … but you … I cannot believe you think I can be so easily manipulated with words of love and stories about dreams of the future."

And that's when Edmond understood. Her anger with him did not lie in his pact with Colin. He had dared to bring softer feelings into an affair that was supposed to have been about the physical act, and perhaps revenge, as well. He'd ruined everything by daring to love her.

"You're right," he said. "I am a liar and a cad. Not only am I the worst friend in all of Christendom, I am also a fool. I'm a fool because I thought having your body would be enough, that no one ever had to know, and that once I had purged myself of my desires, we could both be on our way … you wed to Colin, me married to whichever rich chit decides to accept my offer. But I'm such a fool, Penelope, because I let myself fall in love with you."

Shaking her head, she tore her gaze from him and fixed it on some point over his shoulder.

"Stop," she whispered as if pained. "Stop lying to me. I'm sick to death of you men and your lies."

"Say what you will, but I am not lying. The problem is, you know I am not, and if you were willing to be honest with yourself for one moment, I believe you would realize it's the truth and that is why you're angry. Because this was about vengeance for you, but it became about something else. I love you, and you can pretend you don't care about me until the end of time, but I know the truth. You feel something for me; I know you do. Why else would you be crying at the thought that I might care about you, too?"

For a long while, she said nothing. Edmond stood, staring at her profile, watching as the dam holding her emotions in check began to crumble. Never had he wanted to hold her more, to kiss her and lavish her with affection. Damn Colin—the bastard really had ruined her … but not in the way he thought. Penelope had become bitter and jaded, and Edmond could not blame her.

Eventually, she moved, reaching for her corset. Turning away from him, she slipped it on and began tightening the ribbons herself.

"Get me a hansom cab," she said, her voice hoarse from crying. "I am going home. You are never to speak to me again."

Left with no other recourse, Edmond could do nothing but obey. Reaching for his shirt, he pulled it on before leaving the room. A rough laugh blossomed in his chest as he realized Penelope's anger over his confession had helped him. At least now, he did not have to worry about making a clean break with her in order to continue pursuing marriage to someone else. He would likely go on to wed Cassandra Lane, and she … well, he had no notion what Penelope would do. She had made it quite clear that as of now, that was none of his concern.

He tried to ignore the ache in his chest as he descended the stairs to the first floor.

It proved impossible.