Thalia was certain she had died and gone to heaven. Sometime after arriving at Vauxhall, she must have stumbled off the path and bashed her head on a stone or some such. Her body lay in the dark, tangled in foliage and brambles, but her soul was in paradise. Surely that must be how she had wound up here, in the arms of the man who inhabited her deepest, most private fantasies.
She was being kissed by a duke. The Duke of Westerfield was kissing her. Stephen was devouring her mouth like a starving man, making her dizzy and weak in the knees.
No matter how she rephrased the words in her mind, they all narrowed down to the same wondrous thing. Her dream was coming true, though only for a short time.
It had to be enough. Thalia had realized hours ago that she was already lost. Her prediction had proven true and as the night went on, she fell deeper and deeper in love with the man who brightened her world by simply walking through a door every Saturday afternoon.
The noise of the festivities beyond the screen faded away, though Thalia could imagine that the lighting cast their shadows for any passersby to see. As if he’d had the same thought, Stephen backed her toward darkness—into the circle of crumbled pillars arranged to look like ancient Greek ruins. He pushed her against one of the smooth stones without breaking their kiss, his hands tight at her waist. Thalia melted into the kiss—not the first she had experienced, but certainly the most significant. Despite her lack of knowledge over what would happen next, she felt emboldened to experience all the things she had daydreamed about.
She ran her hands over the bulge of his chest and up his neck. She stroked his jaw, his cheeks, his brow. Stephen snatched his turban way with a rough grunt, and allowed Thalia to untie the ribbons of his mask. Once his entire face was revealed, Thalia leaned back to study him, finding him as magnetic as ever. She traced her fingertips over his thick, inky black eyebrows, then pushed a heavy lock of hair back from his brow. Once she had touched the silken strands, Thalia had to go back for more. She slipped her fingers through his locks, pulling him back to her for another kiss.
Her own mask had fallen to the ground minutes before, forgotten. There were no untruths between them now—no smoke and mirrors tricking them into thinking this was a mere dream or fantasy.
No, Thalia wasn’t dead. She was very much alive with both feet planted on the ground, and this was the truest thing she’d ever experienced.
“Thalia,” Stephen murmured against her mouth, his hands running up her back, fingers stroking the sensitive nape of her neck. “Thalia.”
She had never hoped to hear him utter her name at all, let alone in such a husky voice, heavy with desire. It was more than she’d dreamed, realizing that he wanted her. Was this what it felt like to be the sort of lady he could make a life with? It was an odd feeling, but one she could quickly become drunk on. Thalia felt beautiful and powerful and worthy in a way she hadn’t her entire life.
Stephen bent his knees so he was more level with her, and the firm, masculine planes of his body fit perfectly against her soft swells. Thalia had never given much thought to the parts of a man, but every inch of Stephen felt wondrous and warm. And tonight, he was wholly hers.
Not wanting to waste another moment when she could enjoy the full range of such freedom, Thalia began searching for the fastenings of his coat. Stephen helped her, showing her that the buttons were hidden beneath a flap of fabric. He shrugged out of the coat while Thalia made quick work of his shirt buttons. Together, they eased the garment off over his head.
Thalia was momentarily frozen to the spot as she took in the breadth and sheer might of him. It was easy to see that he was built like a Corinthian when he was fully dressed, but the splendor of his naked torso was enrapturing. His chest heaved with rapid breaths as he took gentle hold of her wrists, guiding her hands to his naked skin. Her fingertips encountered whorls of dark, sleek hair. The skin beneath was hot to the touch and soft over the steely slabs of muscle.
“Touch me, Thalia,” he urged, guiding her hands downward. “I’ve wanted your hands on me all night.”
Thalia obeyed, grateful for his direction. Her uncertainty hampered the urges burning through her, filling her with sensations she’d never before experienced. Her pulse thundered against the thin skin of her throat as she explored him, tracing the light grooves between the muscles of his abdomen, skimming over flat nipples that tightened in reaction, trailing through the thicker line of hair arrowing into his breeches.
He murmured unintelligibly but the sound was encouraging, making it easier for Thalia to continue in her quest. Stephen’s hands came to her upper arms, slowly smoothing upward and leaving tremors in his wake. One hand moved to her back, releasing the first fastening of her gown. The bodice sagged, and his other hand dragged the cap sleeve down her arm. Thalia gasped when he dipped his head to kiss her bared shoulder toward the strap of her stays. No one had ever touched her there, but as he made his way back toward the curve of her neck, she realized that she’d never really been touched at all. Nerve endings she hadn’t realized she possessed sparked to life as he nibbled at her neck and the lobe of her ear, his hand steadily working to loosen her gown.
Thalia clung to Stephen as the frock pooled at her feet, his tongue finding the most delicious spot behind her ear—one that sent a swift lightning strike into her belly and heat suffusing through her core. Their hands met against her bosom, two sets of fingers tearing at the strings of her stays. Thalia finally let her hands fall and allowed Stephen to take over, too overcome to manage it herself. He never took his lips off her, kissing along her collarbone, then dipping his tongue into the hollow between her breasts as he loosened her stays.
Once she wore only her chemise, stockings, and slippers, Stephen gripped her waist and hoisted her up. With a gasp, she grasped his shoulders and let him wrap one leg around his waist. Her other leg followed, ankles crossed at his tailbone as he sought her mouth again. This time, the silky whisper of his tongue pressed to her lower lip, then pressed into her mouth. Thalia nearly swooned from the sensation of his tongue sliding against her own, allowing hers to push against his. They tangled and dueled, swift, heated breaths traded beneath them as Stephen went to his knees on the ground.
He gingerly laid her over his discarded coat, sprawling atop her with his elbows supporting some of his weight. The rest of him pressed Thalia into the ground, the feel of him solid and comforting. Despite a niggle of fear at what was to come, Thalia felt safe. She felt treasured.
Tears stung her eyes, though they did not fall as she gazed into his eyes, finding them darkened and heavy-lidded. Thalia had supposed she might marry someday, and of course knew the basics of what went into siring children. However, she had never imagined that intimacy could be so liberating—so pleasant. She hadn’t thought that a man would ever touch her with such reverence or kiss her with such passion. This night would be a gift, despite the years of bereft emptiness stretching beyond it. That wasn’t Stephen’s problem, though; it was her own. Tomorrow, she would allow herself to mourn what could never be. Tonight, she would take all she could from this one encounter and pray it would be enough.
Stephen kissed his way from her chin to the edge of her chemise, slowly easing the fabric off her shoulders and over the mounds of her breasts. His heavy exhale brushed over the bared peaks, making her nipples furl tight in anticipation.
“Perfect,” he whispered as he gently cupped one and gave it a little squeeze. “You are so beautiful, Thalia. I’ve always thought so.”
She wanted to argue that that couldn’t be. Surely Stephen had never looked at her and seen anything other than a frumpy bookseller in spectacles. But as he used his other hand to gingerly lift the frames off the bridge of her nose, Thalia believed him. He could have told her that the sky had opened up and begun raining chocolate drops upon them, and Thalia would have taken it as truth.
Stephen kept his gaze on her face as he took her nipple between his first finger and thumb, giving it a light pinch. Thalia whimpered, her hips raising of their own volition to press her tighter against him. His thighs were brawny and thick against hers, and the hard swell of his arousal had found its target—pressed against her mons through the fabric of her chemise. Stephen pinched her again, a bit harder this time, then bowed his head over her and resumed the ministrations of his mouth.
Thalia floated on clouds of ecstasy as he kissed and nibbled at first one nipple then the other, his tongue warm and slick as it circled each peak. Her fingers tangled in Stephen’s hair, holding him close and urging him on. Her insides were a maelstrom, churning and heating and preparing her for something she couldn’t yet fathom.
She let her hands follow the sinewy paths of his body, reveling in the strength and control pulling the cords of his arms and shoulders taut. He trembled atop her, and she sensed him holding back. He might have gotten her agreement for the night, then proceeded to throw her down and take what he wanted. Instead, he was taking his time, allowing her to grow used to one intimacy before he moved on to another.
He groaned against her breastbone when her fingers encountered the fastening of his trousers, surging his hips against hers. The press of him against her most secret places sent flutters of delight through her, her gut clenching with the need for more.
She slowly slipped buttons from their holes as he raised one of her knees and then slid her chemise toward her hip. His hand tightened on her thigh as he worked his way steadily upward, pushing the limb open.
Tremors wracked Thalia from head to toe as the heavy organ between his legs fell free of the fabric. He was larger than she had imagined, but then she had no one to compare him to. She caught her lip between her teeth as he silently encouraged her to go on, nudging the weight of his erection into her palm. Thalia skimmed the bulbous head with her fingertips, then traced the length of him, finding a vein that pulsed with his heartbeat.
Her chemise was now hiked to her waist, but Thalia forgot about modesty when Stephen’s hand slid down the inside of one thigh. The pulsing and throbbing within her had centered in the place he now touched with gentle control. She threw her head back and choked down moans of delight as he rubbed and stroked, his touch producing a moisture Thalia would have found embarrassing if not for his reaction to it. He moaned against her ear, kissing her cheek and then her lips as he found the tiny nub of her pleasure and began to rhythmically circle his thumb over it. Thalia was lost, her fingernails digging into his biceps, her legs splayed wide and her back arching as he drove her closer to a coveted precipice. Tension coiled tight in her middle, and with every pass of his thumb over that bundle of nerves her urgency increased. A single finger probed into her opening, easing deeper as she raised her hips.
Thalia gasped as that finger stretched her, sending an ache through her core but doing nothing to diminish her pleasure. “Stephen,” she gasped out between throaty sounds of pleasure. “Oh God … Stephen!”
He clamped his mouth over hers just as he gave her a second finger, his thumb pressing down on her nub with startling precision. It was as if he lived inside her head and knew what she needed when Thalia herself hadn’t even known. She fell apart beneath him, thrashing and bucking and kissing him with a force born of the need for an outlet of some kind. The perfection of it was almost too much, sending her spiraling upward in a dizzying maelstrom.
Stephen chased her through her climax until she came crashing down, limp and shaking and panting beneath him. Easing his fingers from inside her, he inched closer, the thick tip of his cock pressed to her opening. He lifted his head to look at her, appearing almost drunk on the force of what was happening between them. Thalia didn’t feel quite herself either.
“This may hurt at first,” he said solemnly, his mouth set in a grim line.
She ran a hand up and down his back. “I don’t care.”
He nodded but still looked remorseful about pain he hadn’t yet inflicted. The tension in his face increased as he began pressing into her, sweat glistening along his brow. Thalia tensed as he worked his slow way through her channel, stretching her, invading her. The sharp burn of it took her breath away, while the fullness of it kept her in the moment. Stephen kissed her brow, the bridge of her nose, her lips, his deep groans muffled as he withdrew and plunged, easing farther in. He toyed with a nipple, combating the pain with pleasure. She melted beneath him, forcing her legs wider and clinging to him, accepting all he had to give. Above her, slivers of moonlight cut through the leaves of the treetops, and the stray pinpoint of a star glowed. Her every sense was heightened, overwhelming her with the scent of him, the warmth and solidity of him, the pressure of him taking up space inside her.
Face buried in her shoulder, Stephen began to move, his hips rolling in a rhythm that sent pulses of sensation through her. He was steady and sure, making it easier for her to relax as he found his way as far as he could reach, touching every hidden depth. The burning pain dulled to a throb as another sensation began to emerge, making her raise her hips to match his rhythm.
Overhead, fireworks began to light up the night, the pop and flare of various hues dancing over bare skin. The gasps and cries of delight from the crowd muffled the sounds of their loving, Stephen groaning and Thalia sighing and whimpering as he drove her back toward that daring precipice.
Slipping his hands beneath her, Stephen cupped her buttocks and held her flush to him, each roll of his hips stimulating her hidden pleasure spot. Thalia’s thighs clenched around his hips, back bowing as the final cresting swell washed over her, tipping her off the edge. She muffled a shocked cry against the side of his neck as the torrent of ecstasy unfurled from within her, culminating in breathtaking spasms that gripped him tight and rippled with stunning force. Stephen wasn’t far behind her, panting and murmuring against her temple as his movements grew sharper, deeper. He kept up his slow rhythm until the finish, only making haste once he jerked free and rolled off her to spill his seed.
Thalia lay back and stared up at the sky, exploding with light and color. Her limbs were like water and the light twinge of soreness lingered between her legs. Stephen turned back to her, fitting his body against her side and draping her in his leg and one arm.
They said nothing, simply breathing as one and holding tight to one another as the finality of what the end of the night would bring. The tears Thalia had been fighting began to spill in a euphoric rush. She closed her eyes and savored their final moments.
Soon, the time would come to say good-bye.
“Stephen.”
Prying open his tired eyes, Stephen glanced down at Thalia, who rested between his spread legs, her head rested on his chest tipped back to look at him. They had lingered in the ruins for another hour. Once they helped one another get dressed, they had assumed this position against one of the pillars, surrounded by the fading sounds of the masquerade coming to an end.
They had talked for a while, Stephen soaking in every tidbit about her life and history she would offer. He told her of his parents and how they’d come to meet while his father had been in Delhi on behalf of the Crown. His planned stay of a few months had been extended into two years once he had met and fallen in love with the woman who would become his duchess. Stephen had followed less than a year after the wedding.
He had been amused by tales of Thalia’s younger sister, a twinge of envy rolling through him. He had always wanted siblings, but his mother had barely survived birthing him. More Dryden children were out of the question.
Stephen had stopped himself short of asking Thalia if she wanted children. They were not yet ready for such talk. First, he had to convince her not to walk away from him now that their one night was coming to an end.
The look on her face was far too serious for his peace of mind.
He forced a smile and kissed the tip of her nose. “Ready for more, my dear?” he teased.
She frowned and pushed away from his chest. “That isn’t funny, Stephen.”
He took hold of her arm and gave her a tug, so she fell back into him. “I wasn’t joking,” he murmured, nuzzling the most fascinating patch of skin he’d discovered behind her ear. It made her wriggle in his lap. “Stay.”
“I can’t. The hour is late, and my family will surely be worried. I’ve tarried too long already.”
Stephen twined her spiral curl around his finger. “Let me see you home. I will walk you to your door.”
She knit her brow and goggled at him as if he had suddenly grown a second head. “Are you mad?”
“Yes,” he confessed. “And you are to blame. I am not yet ready to lose you, Thalia. I know we agreed to one night, but I cannot fathom we shall never share this again. It was never going to be enough. If I could have this with you every night, I’d die a happy man. Just think of it. I could give you so much, Thalia … and you could give me so much in return. Let me take care of you.”
Thalia didn’t respond for a long moment. Her face went completely blank, and she tore her gaze from his, staring off into the dark. Stephen was just about to ask her what was wrong when she sprang to her feet, hands on her hips as she glared down at him.
“How dare you? Do you think that because I agreed to a single night, you can now coax more out of me? And how many illicit encounters would be good enough, Your Grace? I am certain it will only be just enough of them for you to grow bored before you discard me.”
Stephen stood, but with far less grace than Thalia had. He was so shocked he could barely manage the feat without falling flat on his face. “Thalia, I think you’ve misunderstood—”
“No, it is you who has misunderstood, and perhaps that is my fault. After all, I was foolish enough to let you raise my skirts and rut on me in the dirt like some common tart!”
Holding his hands defensively before him, Stephen slowly advanced. “That isn’t how it happened, and we both know that. What we did … Thalia, it was beautiful. I have never been so free and comfortable with a person in my life. You cannot tell me you didn’t feel the same.”
Pulling her shawl tighter around her body, she folded her arms over her chest. “It doesn’t matter what I felt. I have far more respect for myself than to be coaxed into becoming some man’s mistress—even if he is a bloody duke!”
Stephen flinched as if she’d slapped him across the face. His ears rang as the accusatory word penetrated his confused mind. Mistress? He almost laughed aloud. He’d never kept a mistress in his life and didn’t intend to start now. “Thalia, listen to me—”
“No, you listen!” she exclaimed, giving him a look that would take the steel out of any man’s spine. “I might not be one of your high society ladies, and I may not have much to offer a man who owns any and everything money can buy. But I am worth so much more than what you just tried to offer me. I don’t care if becoming your kept pet comes with chests of diamonds and gowns spun from gold—I am not an object for you to buy!”
“Thalia, that isn’t the way of it,” he protested, chasing her as she began backing away from him. She looked like a skittish doe about to bolt, and Stephen couldn’t allow her to get away. “If you would just hear me out—”
“I’ve heard enough,” she interjected. “If you come any closer, I will scream, and everyone in London will know you for the licentious rake you are. I thought you were different. I thought I would be able to look back on this night with fond memories. But you have tainted it, and I never want to see you again.”
Stephen’s mouth opened and closed several times, but the right words weren’t forthcoming. He realized now that he’d been too hasty and hadn’t collected his thoughts properly before speaking. Now, Thalia had tears racing down her cheeks and he felt like the lowest creature on earth.
“There is an adequate bookshop on Bond Street,” she added just before turning away. “The proprietor is an elderly man with porcelain teeth. I doubt you would be able to seduce him so easily.”
Before Stephen could say another word, she was gone, dashing between the pillars and disappearing from sight. He tried to follow, but was slowed down by the need to retrieve his mask and turban. By the time he reached the path, she was gone altogether, swallowed up by the crowd moving en masse toward the exits.
Glancing down, he found that he had stepped on the lorgnette of her mask. She had forgotten it entirely. Bending to pick it up, he studied the silver filigree and inwardly berated himself. This wasn’t how he’d thought the evening would pan out, but then he hadn’t planned an adequate strategy. He had foolishly put his foot in his mouth and said all the wrong things, giving Thalia the wrong impression.
Thinking over what he’d said, Stephen could understand how she had drawn the wrong conclusion.
If I could have this every night … Let me take care of you.
For a woman outside his class, the offer would not have sounded like one of marriage. Of course she had reacted to his overture with anger. She could derive no other meaning from what Stephen had said but that he wanted her for a mistress.
Cradling the lorgnette along with his own mask, as well as the turban, he took himself off in the other direction, seeking the Coach Gate off Kennington Lane. He had entered that way earlier in the night, wanting a moment to enjoy the gardens before being overwhelmed by people. His mother and uncle were likely waiting for him there, and he dare not keep them waiting much longer.
As he made his way, Stephen realized he had never arranged the balloon ascent. He had so badly wanted the experience for Thalia.
Stephen squared his shoulders and told himself this wasn’t over yet. He had to ensure she knew his heart … and that he fulfilled every last one of her dreams. He knew where to find her, and this time she would hear him out. This time, he would tell her what he’d really wanted to say, and ensure she understood just what he was asking for.
Her heart. Her soul. Her hand in marriage.