by Eva Devon
He swallowed as an image of her on her knees flashed in his head.
Did he dare ask her? One did not usually ask young ladies of the ton to do such a thing.
But Augusta was not a common young lady of the ton. Augusta was singular.
So, he slipped his hand into her hair. “I’d like you to kiss me.”
“Happily,” she said, beginning to rise up onto her toes.
“No,” he breathed. “Not on the lips.”
She stared up at him, confused, but then understanding dawned in her intelligent eyes and her lips parted with astonishment.
For one moment, he was certain he’d gone too far.
But then she smiled slowly.
Silently, she bent over, tugged his breeches down his thighs, eyed his cock, and then, as if taking on some delightful challenge, she placed a soft kiss on the head of his cock.
His cock jerked towards her, clearly overjoyed to be the focus of her attention.
She gazed at him, stunned.
“Again?” he whispered.
“Again,” she agreed before she kissed his cock, this time her lips slightly parted.
Much to his amazement, he did not need to urge her. She contemplated him as if she were assessing some interesting and new endeavor. And oh so gently, she let her tongue trace the slit at the tip of his cock.
He shuddered, grabbed her and yanked her up, terrified he was about to spend from the merest of kisses.
“Did I do something wrong?” she asked, eyes wide.
“You damn well did it too well.”
“Can one do something too well?” she sallied as he picked her up and then tossed her on the bed. She bounced and he was after her, his hands sliding up her thighs.
“Most definitely, Augusta. For I find I need you now.”
A look of triumph softened her face and, in that moment, she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.
He did not allow another thought to cross his head as he yanked up her chemise, baring her lower body.
He parted her legs, slid his fingers into her wet heat, then circled his fingers over the sweet folds the way he knew she adored.
She hooked one leg behind him, pulling him closer. He needed no further convincing and he guided his cock into her welcoming body.
A hiss of pleasure slipped past his throat and he took his time, finding a rhythm that sent her breathing wild.
Her muscles tightened around him and he could not hold back. The entire world spun around and all he could think of was her. Just Augusta. How much she made him want her. How much she drove him mad.
His whole body tensed, every muscle straining, as his pleasure overtook him and her fingers dug into his back as she tightened around him in long, perfect waves.
He collapsed against her, unable to even hold himself up, such was the power of his body after making love to her.
With a sigh of happiness, she folded her arms about him.
The world came back into focus slowly and he rested his head atop hers. He was in danger. Very serious danger, indeed. That thought thundered again and again through his brain.
And it would not cease. There was only one way to stop it. . . So, he took her mouth with his, ready to make love to her again and again until dawn.
Chapter 24
The gentle light of dawn slid in through the window.
It pooled on the floor and touched the furniture about the room. It worked its way over the bed and up the counterpane.
Adam stared out of the window feeling that amber glow whisper over him, wishing that he could feel completely at ease in this moment.
He should have felt perfection.
She was molded against him, her body pressed warm and soft into the curves of his, and she felt as if she belonged there.
That? That was what gave him so much unease. He held her carefully, savoring the soft rose scent of her washed hair against his face, even as he felt lost.
The soft touch of her body against his was drawing him away from the promises he had made so long ago.
Could Augusta do that to him?
Could she take him away from a vow he had made so long ago?
Just days ago, he would have declared it impossible. She was not the sort of young woman he ever would've thought could do such a thing, but here he was slipping away from that choice he'd made to never give his heart again.
Day by day, with Augusta, he somehow found himself admiring and liking her more and more.
The way she had taken control of the evening last night had been breathtaking. Augusta was coming into her power and it was a beautiful sight to behold.
She too had not had an easy time of it and he wished that he could make her see that there was so much that life offered, and perhaps that's what he would do.
Perhaps that was the only thing he could do in this circumstance, because he could not dare to risk his heart.
Quietly, he slipped from the bed, easing his arm out from underneath her neck. He took his clothes into one hand and silently walked out the room and into his own chamber.
There he stood in the slowly encroaching dawn, alone. He could barely draw breath. He hated the idea that he would have to shut her out somehow, but if he was to keep his promise, that's exactly what he had to do, wasn't it? He had to keep her on the fringes of his life. He could not make her its center, even if he was being pulled to do so.
If he could not give her love, he could at least give her a happy life. Surely that was something that he could do, even if he could not ever give her his heart.
***
Day after day went by and she scarcely saw Adam. But the nights? Their nights were spent in wild abandon, each hour of the darkness complete in each other’s arms. But then dawn would come, tearing them apart. When those first golden rays danced over the window sill, her husband slipped out of her bed and out of her life.
Augusta convinced herself she was accustomed to it.
After all, he was simply keeping the promise he had made that their marriage would not be one based in love or a true relationship.
When they met during the day, it was with the shortest exchange of words possible.
Augusta was a bit disconcerted because she found, more and more, that she liked the hours they spent together at night, and she wished they had more of them in the day. But often he was simply never at home and when he was, he was engaged in business.
Instead of lingering at home, contemplating her present difficulties, she made it a point to take the air. Walking was essential to any positive outlook she might have on her confusing circumstances.
So she, Felicity, and Philippa, as well as Charlotte, took to Hyde Park.
They crossed the long, wide green area near Speaker’s Corner and headed towards Rotten Row.
The Serpentine was just in the distance.
It's slight, lapping waves were gentle today. There was a host of people riding up and down the Row in their perfect habits on their beautiful horses. She'd never learned to ride particularly well, because her father had never invested in horses, but she did not mind. She quite liked being upon her feet. She and Philippa and Felicity and Charlotte made their way across immaculately kept grass, laughing happily as they went.
It was a beautiful day.
The sun was out. The green leaves upon the towering trees shimmered a beautiful effervescent green. She smiled at Charlotte, who looked quite happy in her new frock, a beautiful yellow gown which matched her hair and complexion perfectly.
Charlotte hooked her arm in hers. "So how does married life treat you?”
"Married life is most odd,” she replied honestly.
"In what way?"
She scowled, annoyed with herself. “Well, I almost never see my husband."
"That doesn't sound so terribly odd," Charlotte said. "From what I understand, most married couples barely spend two minutes together a day. My mama and papa barely speak to each other at all. Mama spends most of her time in the country
and well Papa. . . He's abroad so often that really only my aunt Gertrude makes certain that I do not fall into any trouble."
“Trouble?” Augusta teased, even as she considered the painful truth of her friend’s family life. "Charlotte, the very idea of you in trouble is absolutely absurd. I cannot imagine such a thing." Charlotte's lips curled into a grin. "You never know,” she said. "I might surprise you."
“Well," Augusta granted, tilting her face to allow the sun to fall more fully upon it. “I suppose life is full of surprises. Look at my own life."
"Yes, but what is it like to be married to the greatest rake of all? Is he terribly romantic or absolutely awful?"
Augusta gave this serious thought. "Neither actually. He's really rather serious with a good sense of humor."
"Serious with a good sense of humor?" echoed Charlotte. “I expected far more drama than that. That's so, well, uninspiring."
“Not at all," Augusta protested as they walked arm in arm, following her happily chattering younger sisters. "I couldn't agree less. Strange though it may be, he is the most interesting fellow who is devoted to several causes. I am beginning to think the news sheets have drastically misrepresented him.”
"Augusta, you have been thoroughly converted by him,” Charlotte announced. “How has he done it? He has seduced you mind, body, and soul."
"He has not,” Augusta chastised. "I disagree with him on many points."
"Such as?" Charlotte prompted.
"Well, I don't think that it's necessary to go out late in the evening as he is wont to do."
"Does he stay out very late, then?"
She considered this. Since their marriage, he hadn't, not that she was aware of. Every night he'd spent at home with her, which was shocking really, because she didn't think that was common for most married couples in the aristocracy.
Not only that, he spent his nights in bed with her. She wondered why it was when the first rays of light hit the room that he slipped away, but he did it every single time. There was no allowance.
Oh, he would hold her in the darkness of the room, naught but the glow of the fire illuminating him. He would whisper into her ear and tell her stories of his travels in France and Italy. And he would speak poetry, the volumes that he absolutely loved. And she had been seduced by it in those secret hours.
She hated to admit it, but she loved the sound of his rumbling voice in her ear as he made love to her.
It was as if Adam was two different people. The man he was at nighttime and the man he was in the day.
And the man who he was in the day remained distant. Except he clearly wished her to be happy. For he had given her great freedom and great funds.
"I don't think it would be such a terrible thing to be seduced by one's husband," Charlotte pointed out.
“No," Augusta begrudged, though she was loath to admit it was happening to her. "I suppose that wouldn't be so very awful, but I mustn’t allow myself to give way to excess.”
Charlotte’s brow furrowed. “I don't think anybody could ever fear that for you."
Augusta worried her lower lip. "I do worry that sometimes he might make me forget it."
"Oh look!” A voice trilled from a carriage taking its time down the Row. "There's the Duchess of Blacktower."
Augusta froze. She knew that voice.
It was the society gossip, Lady Amanda Quigley.
Augusta squared her shoulders.
She would not give that Lady Quigley credence.
Charlotte squeezed her arm. "Let's keep walking."
Augusta nodded, happy to ignore the iciness in the gossip’s tone.
But Philippa had heard it and her youngest sister turned. "Why yes, it is the Duchess of Blacktower, and doesn't she look marvelous?"
Lady Quigley sniffed. “She looks as marvelous as a spinster ever could."
She and her friend tittered at each other in their open carriage. The two dark-haired young women in insipid pink gowns appeared desperately happy at their own apparent cleverness.
"A man as handsome as that could only ever marry someone like her because well. . .” Lady Quigley trailed off with a roll of her eyes. And her companion smirked. "We all know the duchess was on the shelf for years. It's remarkable that he married her."
Augusta could hardly believe they were saying such a thing. Now that she was the duchess, surely they understood that if she truly wished, she could ruin them in some way, couldn't she?
She did have that power now, although she would never do it.
Perhaps that's what they were counting on, that she wouldn't retaliate.
Augusta lifted her chin. "I have other skills that His Grace admires."
"Other skills?" Lady Quigley mocked. “And what are they? Scheming and artistry.”
“Accounting,” Augusta said dryly.
The two young women looked at each other as if she was absolutely mad.
Suddenly a deep voice voiced called from behind Augusta. "Yes, my wife has excellent bookkeeping skills. I could not deny my need for them the moment I realized she was so very accomplished."
Augusta's heart pounded in her chest. It was him. My God, where had he come from? But there he was. As she turned, she spotted her husband just behind her. His eyes were as dark as thunder.
“Darling wife,” he said, taking her hand in his. “It is so good to see you. I have missed you all day while at Parliament."
"Thank you, Blacktower," she said, studying the way his gloved palm swallowed her hand up. "I too have missed you."
His gaze narrowed. “These young ladies, is their brainless chatter distressing you?"
Both young ladies went absolutely white as sheets.
"I don't think so,” she said tightly. “We were just having a simple conversation. Were we not, ladies?"
The two young women nodded quickly.
Their driver snapped the reigns and they raced quickly across the park.
Augusta laughed at their flight.
Adam, on the other hand, looked down at her with concern. "You're amused?”
"What else could I be?" she asked with a shrug. "They are clearly jealous, and that is the only reason they behaved as they did. They all wish that they were your wife, you know.” She winked up at him. “And they're very upset with the fact that I got you by ill means.”
"So you did,” he said with a slow smile, obviously relieved that she was not too hurt. "Still, I don't like to hear them saying such things.”
“We cannot control what other people say, Blacktower,” she said gently. "But it was very kind of you to come to my rescue."
"You didn't need it, did you?" he observed.
“No," she agreed. “I am made of sterner stuff, but it was nice to know that you would defend me if my honor needed."
“Augusta," he said, lifting his hand to her cheek. "I will always come to defend your honor if it is needed."
She could have sworn she heard a sigh from all three young ladies watching.
Her sisters all but swooned with romanticism and Charlotte looked quite pleased.
"Your Grace, you're embarrassing me,” she whispered.
“Everyone," he said firmly, “should know that you are a remarkable creature worthy of any man."
Her heart skipped a beat.
Could he mean it? Did he perhaps not regret having to marry her? Because with each passing day she found she did not regret having to marry him. Because as it turned out, marriage to Adam seemed to mean the very freedom she had always longed for.
Chapter 25
Adam sat in his study happily writing a new speech for Parliament. He was positively going to skewer the other side of the aisle. Ah, it would be a great delight, and Augusta had inspired a great deal of it.
They'd had a marvelous discussion over dinner, and she'd given him many fine points. It was quite a revelation to realize that he'd married someone with a politically astute mind. Her love of reading made it possible for her to offer up many good observations.
<
br /> And she was like a whetstone for him to sharpen his conversation upon. She happily pointed out the weakness in his arguments with a wee bit too much glee.
So, as he continued to write, he thought of her in mind, calling out his arguments if he got them wrong.
"It is very good to see you happy, darling boy."
He tensed.
The voice of his aunt echoed through the study. He paused in his writing. He wasn't sure that he wished to have this conversation. Instinctively, he knew she was not here for pleasantries. There was little doubt in his mind that he was about to be cornered.
His aunt bustled into the room.
Her bright eyes were unyielding. "Now, now," she said, "I've only come to congratulate you on your happiness."
He sighed, leaned back in his chair, and put his quill down.
Arching a brow, he returned, “I feel that I'm about to be given the rack."
"The rack," she echoed with a tsk. "I should never use something so brutish. Oh no, I would come up with a far more clever form of torture."
"Of course you would," he quipped, adoring her but not the possibility of difficult discourse. "Thank you for your felicitations. I shall take them and now I must return to my work."
His veiled dismissal did not achieve the desired effect. Quite the contrary, she strode further into his study, her beautiful purple gown glistening in the firelight. She moved with grace, for she had been a woman that was the toast of the town for years.
Men had wanted her.
Husbands had hoped that she would have affairs with them. She'd also been beloved by the women because she was not a cruel sort of person and had almost entirely avoided said husbands.
She poured two doses of brandy into matching Waterford Crystal snifters and brought one to him.
Thrusting it toward him, she instructed, "Drink this.”
He took it, eyeing her carefully.
She palmed her own snifter as she sat in the chair opposite him on the other side of his desk. She did not sit with the sort of delicacy of many ladies. She sat as if taking possession of the chair, much like a lauded and mysterious cat.
"Aunt Honoria," he warned. "You're making me nervous."
"Good," she said. "That's what I'd hoped to do."